"Uh...no, I think not." He mumbled. Glancing quickly over the number promising just about anything one could muster up in his or her wildest fantasies concerning feet. No 1-900-FOOTLUV was not going to be his sexual venture. Hair was his whole sexual universe and hair it was going to be. After repeated rejections and half-assed attempts in the past, he was determined to get a serious haircut phone fantasy. Scanning and scanning he became discouraged.
"1-900-7WHIPPS?! Nnnooooo...I don't think so...Oh wait.." he mumbled. Looking at the second to the last number, the last being some weird hotline dealing with men's fetish about women in military uniforms. This was it. He was going to call this number was 1-900-HAIRCUT.
He dialed.1-900-424-7288, the phone rang twice before being picked up by a mechanical but rather sexy disclaimer warning him of the 2.99/ minute charges which would begin (she said with a seductive sigh,) after the tone which was followed by a quick low pitch sounding like an electric chime.
"1-900-HAIRCUT, how may we assist you?"
Sounds like a receptionist, this can't be the one, he thought
"Hello?"
"Uh yeah, I'd love it if a lady took me on a serious clipper ride."
"Seduction or domination?" the "receptionist" as he decided it was, asked apathetically.
"Domination"
"Ok we got Tina, she's wearing a full black body suit and is six feet tall, with medium sized breasts. Is this your first time with us?"
"Yeah."
"Call again if we can be of service, Tina will be right with you."
He was then put on hold for what seemed like several minutes before Tina finally answered.
"Hi Wh-"
"Shut-up!! You pathetic little cur," Tina hissed, "looks like you need a lesson in obedience, well my soft weakling, have a seat NOW!!" she shouted in a provocative tone that immediately got him hard. 
"First thing's first, I'm gonna tie you up...there...comfy?" she asked, with a sardonic sneer. He could hear a click, then the buzzing of hair clippers.
"You guessed it sweetie, ha ha ha!! I plan to shear you bald right here in this chair, maybe then you won't cross me again, ha ha ha!! Here I go, right down the middle," this was all he heard then it was a steady buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz mixed with sadistic laughs from Tina.
 He lay in bed, envisioning her with her black leather body suit, and stiletto heels, but instead of a crop and whip she brandished a set of red Wahl clippers. He stiffened even more as she told him how she was beginning to clip all around his ears and was now standing right in front of him and about to clip off the rest of his hair. He returned to his fantasy, her voluptuous breasts staring at him through a mask of leather, he finally climaxed when he pictured her smile, both sinister and piercing as she sheared the last of his hair and laughed unmercifully, picking up his hair and raining it down in front of his face.
"There my slave, remember I'm always here if you need to be punished again, just feel your head, all your beautiful hair is gone and you are now my obedient servant ha ha ha!"
"Wow, Tina or whoever you are, that was great," he remarked to a now down to earth voice that has jumped out of character.
"Thanks, you're my first," she giggled," I'm a Communications Major, this helps with the bills."
"Well you were great take care.":
"Bye," she said sweetly, "call again." 
Guess that was about 35-40 bucks down the drain but hey you only come this way once, he thought to himself before going to bed. Another cheap thrill for George Q Stigman.

 Ginny's Salon looked quiet, he sat reading the newspaper he picked up at the newsstand while waiting for the bus.
Police Suspect Cult Slaying
Another victim to what police are
now calling a cult related murder
has been identified as Christopher
Shappiro. "Not only was the body
mutilated and beheaded, a pig's head
was placed on the man's shoulders."
Police Chief Mark Brand told reporters,
"this is the sort of bizarre clues we look for
plus the fact that nothing was taken, therefore
robbery has been ruled out."  Police are still
trying to decipher what the acronym D.O.C.
stands for....
"Hey there, I'm ready." Kim, told George who had come for his 5 o'clock haircut. Folding the paper George looked and smiled. 
"Sorry, waiting long? I was really getting into this article, the so-called "D.O.C." murders, quite bizarre if you ask me, I mean get this, DOC is written in Greek letters according to something I read last month, Delta Omicron Kappa or something like that, weird isn't it?"
"A little yeah, I try not to read that stuff it gives me the creeps." She said, leading him to a sink, snapping on a cape, and wetting his head with a tepid but stimulating shower.
Kim was the best of them, at least that is what George thought. She had been his hairstylist for about two years now, petite and dressed plainly she was a still very radiant woman, wearing her blonde hair in a neat above the shoulder bob. She began cutting, around the ears, the snip of steel sounded like chimes as they intricately carved out a new image in the mirror in front of him. One thing that aroused him the most was the fact that she cleaned his neck not with clippers but with a straight razor. Something about the scraping sound was more sensuous than the Osters or Wahls other stylists have used. The wetness of the blade was what felt good too, sort of an erotic cleansing maybe, as water ran down his shorn neck. George has asked Kim out on dates a few times but was turned down, deciding not to jeopardize their relationship as stylist and client, after the second or third rejection, he gave up. He paid for the haircut, left Kim a modest tip and left. After several weeks, and seeing the bill for the previous call wasn't bad, he decided to give 1-900-HAIRCUT another whirl.

He called, and got the same receptionist but was told Tina had left. Probably got a much better offer for a real job, he thought. 
"We got Michelle for the dom-sub cuts."
"Sure"
"Ok, hold on."
The wait seemed a little longer but once Michelle answered he knew he'd hang up quickly. She totally sucks, and is probably a fat cow sitting on a recliner watching a test pattern, he sat, thinking to himself, soon after deciding she was either drunk or drugged.
"I'm jus shnippin my scissors, schnippin away," she slurred while lazily snapping a pair of scissors into the receiver. Just then the phone went dead. Soon, out of nowhere the sedated voice of Michelle was replaced by some sort of chanting that sounded to him, very similar to a scene in a movie he'd seen, an intriguing two and a half hour movie dealing with different Greek myths rolled into one. Mythology was an interest as was ancient cultures where George was concerned.
"We don our clay masks, while smiting the infidels..." Then the phone went silent before Michelle returned, who was, he decided too drunk so he just hung up.  Shrugging the whole thing off he went to bed. 

 Several weeks later he went to see Kim. He sat and waited, "Reunited" by Peaches and Herb was playing, and Kim had to shout to get his attention once again. This time his nose was  buried in a women's hair fashion magazine, admiring the hot new Summer pixies that the magazine promised would "be a Summer sizzler." Kim was just a joyful as ever. While cutting his hair she asked about his knowledge of ancient cities and its folklore. Suddenly both the lights and a song by Air Supply faded to darkness.
"Kim?, Hello?"
Silence...followed by a sharp jab in his right shoulder. A quick fear gripped him before slipping into a sleep, the fear coming in the form of a voice.
"As we unmask one by one, you'll see our true selves before seeing your tomb."
Drugged, he slept, waking hours later to candles, hundreds of candles. Their flames looked like glowing eyes blinking at him. Kim's station metamorphasised into a sort of sacrificial altar, before him stood a figure wearing a clay mask. This was what George recognized as the masks used during the plays of the classical age of Ancient Greece. They were used to project emotion, their terra-cotta faces frozen in states of happiness, sadness, anger and others. This one was a sinister vulpine with a fixed and evil smile. She began the incantation
"Daughters Of Circe, unmask and strike our true enemy." 
Faces soon appeared from behind the glowing candles, still faces, smiling faces, sad faces and drunkard faces molded in decaying but well preserved clay. The familiar chanting struck a familiar chord in George's mind.
The chanting on the phone, that's where I heard it...and...Daughters Of  Circe...thoughts in his mind began piecing together a very dark and terrifying puzzle. Circe, the sorceress who changed all sans Odysseus into pigs...his mind scanned again to the headlines he read in the past. Daughters Of Circe, Daughters Of Circe, Daugh-
"Oh God Noooooooo!!!", he shouted for the grim realization sunk in, even more so when the priestess scribbled letters onto the mirror in what he thought was lipstick, he knew them all too well and now he knew his fate. Delta Omicron Kappa, Daughters Of Circe, D.O.C. "Unmask!!!" the priestess commanded. 
He managed to find his voice and ask one question.
"How did you find me, can you at least answer that?"
"That fetish number you called, the haircut one? We traced your name that way."
"Then Tina, she is one of you?"
"No, she just worked for us unbeknownst to her, she's off in some titty bar dancing to put herself through school probably I have no clue. Call it entrapment if you will but our cult is in honor of the great sorceress Circe..."
"I know I know I studied Greek mythology, now it adds up, the pig's head everything."
"Oh but you're wrong we don't kill a pig, we get those from the butcher. Men however, we...sacrifice. We get our "clients" through the fetish line."
They all unmasked revealing the prettiest faces, some with long flowing hair and glowing red lips that glinted in the candlelight. The priestess was striking, her blonde pixie accented her sacred and jeweled robe, red in color it sparkled, the others wore simple purple robes lined with black, "the colors of mourning" the priestess explained. 
A cold and familiar sensation of cold, wet steel brought George to the realization of his fate.
"Good-bye," the familiar voice crooned in his ear before draining him of blood and life. The chair was then encircled in a ring of fire,George and the salon were soon engulfed in flames.

The next morning-
Local Hair Salon Burns Down
Arson detectives are investigating
a recent fire that burned down Ginny's
Salon. So far they are speculating that 
chemicals caused the fire. Further investigation 
may rule out arson....
That evening-

In another part of town, Mike, college student and weekend partier was scanning the personals.
when he spotted the ad:
Fantasy Hotline:
Talk live, 1o1 to our girls 24/7
fulfill your utmost fantasies
and secret fetishes. You must be 21 or over,
and the cost is $2.99/min. Select from the list below
We cater to every sexual whim!!

While in another part of the city-
"I'm glad you weren't hurt in that fire." the male client was saying while getting shampooed.
"It sure is a miracle," the pretty but plain stylist with the above the shoulder bob answered with a smile, "it sure is."
 

The End.