What’s that Movement Underneath the Hairstylist’s Cape

Hairstylists’ are unique individuals, and we all share bizarre stories that we have witnessed or experienced as we beautify our clients (some however seek inappropriate services, as with the cape). Behind the Chair is a series of short stories with fictional characters, although based upon a hairstylist’s examination of salon life over 25 years.

Behind the Chair: What’s that Movement Underneath the Hairstylist’s Cape

There were certain advantages to working at the “coupon clipper” hair salon. It was close to home and the hours afforded me time to finish college. The proximity also provided me the opportunity to breastfeed my first-born son. I had to sacrifice Sunday football and work late nights, but these were minimal within the grand scheme of life. However, with late evenings, also came crazy individuals that were characterized by bad breath laced with too much garlic, alcohol and tobacco, or perverts who masturbated underneath the hairstylist’s cape. Yes, that did happen, but I am sure, I am not the only hairstylist who has had an easily excited client.

The “coupon clipper” hair salon was not an “appointment only” establishment; therefore, we had to take walk-in clients up until closing at 9 p.m. The perv walked in around 8 and after a long day at school, I honestly was not in the mood, but my wallet needed the tip. Little did I know, it was more than the tip he wanted to give me.

He was around 5’ 8”, short in stature, at least compared to my 6’2” husband, which was important to me if I needed to defend myself, thoughts that haunted my mind when I had to work late with only one other girl. Jeanine was with me the night the masturbating monkey performed, and although she was the sweetest of girls, she was also a tad flighty and didn’t know how to handle an uncomfortable situation.

The pervert wore loose, dark, dirty clothing, and the clichéd black trench coat. His greasy hair begged for a shampoo and the hairs on my neck stood on end when he sat in the chair as he waited to be washed. At once I knew something was amiss, however, I was friendly as I cleansed his filthy head, but I had to be swift as every massage of the scalp made him moan and me squirm.

I politely sat the swine in my chair and went through the formalities of how much off, etc., and then I caped him. I wanted nothing more than to finish his haircut and moved with more precision than ever before, however, as I finished the top and right side and was moving to the left, I noticed erratic movement under the cape.

NO! He couldn’t be!

I was now towards the end of the haircut and his hand was moving faster and with more determination. I ignored him, because my mind floated to a time when I was 13. Wendy and I were in TSS picking up shaving cream for Halloween. An old man in a khaki trench followed us, and when I looked down, his penis was out and he was ejaculating onto a display. I screamed and he laughed. Of course security came running, but I fed into his perversion with my reaction. From that early episode, I knew not to draw any attention to the pig in my chair, as this is what he wanted. I also did not want to rip the hairstylist’s cape from his body to unveil his privates, which would have aroused him further. The more I ignored him, the less he touched himself.

I gave him the worst haircut of my life, did not dry his hair, pulled off the cape and threw it in the laundry (thankfully, nothing was on it). When I rang him up, he seemed completely dissatisfied…good, glad he didn’t enjoy the time with me, however, he did leave a small gratuity, surely based upon his teeny weenie.

He left, I screamed and Jeanine had no clue as to what was happening underneath the hairstylist’s cape.

The photo of the cape attached to the article is from my friends at BeautyStopOnline.

The characters in these stories are fictional, although based upon a hairstylist’s perspective of true salon life compiled from over 25 years of experience.