“The Barbershop”

15 MIN READ

Man speaks.

Man is loud.

Men laugh at the familiar.

Bravado, banter, barbershop, 

Be, boisterous, crescendo.

School of the old head.

Podium and stage.

Triumphant for the commonplace.

Proselytize, debate.

Exaggerate a tale and see

A frenzy detonate.

Barbershop baptismal,

Place to cut, rejuvenate.

Womxn-watcher,

Listening.

Notes for later, when

Womxn-watcher’s tongue will please

The womxn better than

The men who say their needs are small

A prize to win and shed.

Womxn-watcher 

Hears it all because she looks like men.

Please believe

The womxn-watcher seated in the chair

Will make her alter where they won’t 

In laps of ladies fair.

An incoming text buzzes in Max’s pocket as she sits in TJ’s chair.  She casually laughs as he and the barber next to him exchange friendly banter about their ladies while she reaches under the cape and into her pants pocket. Frank brags, “Oh, I eat in the car before I get home! I don’t want my wife asking me for shit. I got napkins, condiments in there, everything!” 

TJ confirms, “This fool eats crab cakes and steak in the car.”

Frank boasts, “Yeah, I come in and pass her eating cereal, saying something like, ‘Mannnnn, TJ said some shit today.’ so she leaves me alone. I go right upstairs and burp.” Both congratulatory and astonished laughter ensue. Frank clarifies, “You know how much two orders of crab cakes cost? Thirty dollars. You know how much one order costs? Fifteen!” As the room bellows Max quietly shows TJ the name on the message. From: Cree. 

“This is shorty I was telling you about.”

TJ raises his eyebrow, a silent, barbershop-grade affirmation. 

“She and her friend around the corner. They been at happy hour drinking.” 

“Her friend gay?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, aight.”

The other men do not hear or acknowledge the side conversation and TJ carries on with Max’s shape up. The clippers buzz against her temple as Frank removes the cape from his client, sweeps up and begins to pack his things. 

As Frank walks out the door the bell above it rings. He holds the door open for the two women who enter and looks them over behind their backs. Cree and Alex exchange a knowing glance. They are used to being studied when men think they aren’t looking. Cree walks in first and Alex relishes the opportunity to perform. She glances back before prancing into the barbershop, switching her hips. 

Her flowing pants drape over her curves. The flowers printed on them sway as though her movement stirs a breeze.  The knocking of each performative step sends a quake up her thighs, settling at her breasts. They bop and tremble like waves swelling beneath her shirt every time her heel touches the floor. TJ and Max acknowledge the display and silently applaud with their eyes. Cree directs Max’s gaze into her own as she approaches. Without words, she leans over Max, still seated and restrained beneath the cape, for a soft, slightly lingering kiss. 

Tugging at a tuft of Max’s hair and twirling it between her fingers, Cree looks into her eyes and asks, “When are you going to let me loc you up?” 

“Tomorrow, if you stay the night.” She responds confidently. 

TJ locks the door and turns up the music. No more customers tonight. 

Instinctively, the others shout, “Ayeeeeeeeeee!”

Alex drops down and shapes her legs into butterfly wings, taking flight with one hand to the sky and the other on her knee. Cree matches her clapping ass, following closely with her own clapping hands. When Alex hops her knees into the seat of the folding chair in the center of the room, cheers turn to silent musings. The metal frame taps against the concrete floor as her ass becomes a seesaw. 

(((Max))

Bend over just a little more.

Print please peek.

Maybe if I tilt my head

My gaze can slip between and underneath.

Time be the last drop of honey At the bottom of my cup,

Pouring languid and lazily into another.

Slow it down

And make her flesh molasses. 

Eyes may settle on her round and rustling ass.

Part and come together 

In your own sweet time. 

My eyes nestle at the fault line.

Watching as fabric gathers and lays.

Smooth down the center,

A confluence of waterways.

I want to run my tongue from top to bottom until it disappears.

I want to pause her pulsing flesh, 

A hand on either side.

Parting grand peaks.

Rousing waterfalls.

Bounty for bounty,

A tide of gratitude.

This ass deserves a master’s touch

To confirm an unfamiliar rumor.

Another woman gratified,

Boasting openly of pleasure.

At my hand, respectively.

There are two, in fact.

One for women who know,

One for women who don’t.

Max says nothing. 

She contemplatively cups her chin, trails her bottom lip with her thumb and looks to Cree, who’s eyes lay waiting. Cree was watching Max, savoring her amusement. 

“Come here.” Max mouths and beacons with a smooth cutting of her eyes.

Cree walks over to Max, still seated, and freeing her hands from the drape. Cree straddles Max’s knee as Max latches onto her hips and draws her close. 

TJ uncovers Max entirely and yells, “I’ve got dark liquor in the back!” as he stutters-steps out of view.

((Cree))

What rhymes with Cree?

Conductor, orchestrator?

Moderator, mastermind?

Ringmaster, ringleader?

No.

What rhymes with Cree?

Tease?

Mostly.

Wanting is my specialty.

Desire happens in the waiting.

Now everyone,

Off to your fantasies.

Whatever they dream,

I hope it drips down their legs and pools at their feet

So someone slips.

Let it be dangerous.

I hope it breaks you open

And shatters you for days.

Flashes of fantasy

Seeping through your tomorrow.

Because I say so, silently.

I can make you imagine.

The curious and Cree.

Cree says nothing.

She peers into Max. Pulling her in with her gaze. Aware that Alex is now their only audience, Max grabs the back of Cree’s neck, cups her ass and kisses her as if they are alone. 

((Alex))

There was a woman I used to work with.

5’4” but tall.

I’d make a little more lunch than I can eat,

Spend a bit more time searing and seasoning.

“There’s enough for two,” I’d say.

I want her to wonder about me.

I saw her out

In the city

With a woman, holding hands

She kissed her out of view, but I saw.

Later,

I wander 

Into the shower,

Alone with my imagination 

And the memory of her pressing the woman against the wall with her body.

I wonder if they fuck in the bathroom.

I saw it in a movie scene.

The one with the dress had one foot up on the toilet seat. 

The one in the pants braced herself against the sink 

And buried her hand between her open legs. 

I imagine this woman doing that to me.

Pulsing.

Shower-heads pulse, on massage.

My back against the tile,

Legs slightly parted,

Like the woman on the wall. 

I pretend to feel her reality.

And Cree...

She moans when they kiss.

I want to feel her tongue in my mouth

Cast a shadow of that pleasure onto me. 

In fact,

Please

Ask me to join you in the light. 

I hope Max watched me.

Wonders if my pussy is wet 

Like Cree’s mouth.

I wish I was her craving.

Hunger and thirst. 

I refuse to be the only one coveting. 

Watch me so we can wonder together 

And wander into a night-dream

Let’s blame it on intemperance 

Ephemeral desires

Isolated and unseen. 

The only reel 

Is flashbacks 

Pesky evanescent things

I want to know it for myself 

For future shower scenes. 

Alex says nothing.

TJ hollers, “Shots!” Cup in-hand, he adds, “What should we toast to?” 

Alex chimes in, “Life! We’re still here! To a good ass life!”

“To a good ass life!”

“Give me another one.” Alex demands.

TJ complies and watches as she throws it back. “Damn, you didn’t flinch.” 

“I never do.”

Alex flops into the chair beside Max and announces, “I’m ready to go.”

Cree looks her over and responds, “Are you good? I don’t think I want you driving.”

Max interjects, “My place is around the corner. It’s walking distance.”

TJ chimes in, “Your car will be fine at the shop.”

Cree confirms, “It’ll be fine. Just come and take a little nap.”

Alex agrees.

Cool spring air chills beads of perspiration left on their faces from dancing, drinking, and imagining. Cree and Alex walk ahead, talking over each other, laughing, and remembering. They congratulate themselves for fucking TJ’s head up. “He’ll never forget that!” 

Max trails behind, blunt in hand, a guard and a watcher. Porch lights and living room televisions illuminate their path, protecting them from yapping house pets and bothersome blue lights. The distance between them makes room for silhouettes and long shadows. Alex’s shoe clips the uneven sidewalk and she starts to stumble. Max and Cree react. “Let’s get her inside.”  

Alex says, “This is a terrible impression of me.” 

Max gently states the obvious, “You’re allowed to be a person.”

Misjudging the space between themselves and the furniture, the two women flop clumsily onto the couch. Alex drops into Cree’s lap. Cree fumbles and uses her own body to roll Alex onto her back. The two women almost look like they are wrestling.

Max leaves them to their giggling and tussling to retrieve a pillow and blanket.

“I shouldn’t have had that last shot.” 

“You had two? How’d I miss that? I would’ve tried to talk you out of it.” 

“I’m grown! I do what I want!” 

“Okay, ‘I’m grown,’ let me help you take these shoes off.” 

“Cree, help me. I don’t want the pants.” 

“Oh, my goodness. Come on. Lift yourself up a little. Help me, babe! You’re doing great.” 

“Cree, my bra.”

“We can’t have the bra. I need you to help me get the straps.” 

“Okay, I’m trying.” 

Max comes back in as Cree unhooks Alex’s bra and helps her pull it from her sleeve. Not fully aware of her own state, Alex tries to get up and help make the couch into a bed. She stumbles and falls into Max’s arms. Max holds her steady and makes note of her bare legs but says nothing. Alex closes her eyes, yields to Max’s grip and blurts out, “You smell really good.” 

Cree whispers, “She does.” 

Restrained and focused, Max responds, “Let me get you some water.” 

Cree eases her friend out of Max’s hold and into bed.

Stairs sigh beneath the couple’s feet as they tip toe into the bedroom. Floorboards groan with each step until they stop directly above Alex’s head. 

Silence.

And then suddenly, a thump as the backboard bangs against the wall and the weight of someone’s body rattles the mattress. A series of thuds are immediately followed by glee. That is Cree’s voice laughing and Max’s saying something, inaudibly. 

A brief moment of quiet lulls Alex to sleep.

And then, Cree’s distinctly raspy voice drops a single pitch lower and an octave deeper; A dumbfounded wail from the pit of her belly. Max tries to hush her cries. Begging, “Shhhhhhhh!” but carrying on with their cause. They grow loud and then muffled. An indistinct version of orgasm, choking on stuffing and air, gnarling at her release. 

Obscured howling makes its way between Alex’s legs. She scoots and twists, pleading for silence. Rocking, squirming left to right, begging her thumping clit to quiet down and go to sleep. 

Max’s voice rises, “Who’s fucking you?”

((Alex))

Uncurl my calves.

Unfurl my knees.

Her voice,

A sharpened pin 

Piercing through

A silken sheath

Dear panties, let her in.

Max repeats, “Who’s fucking you?” and Alex instinctively opens wide. Her hand slides down between her legs and over her sheer panties. Her thighs collapse and wrestle, rendering her own hand powerless. Still, taut fingers, trapped between her pinching thighs contend with her pulsing clit. They squeeze and heave like the pillow against Cree’s face. Mildly muffling the inevitable. 

Her knees widen with each measured movement. Round and round, two steady fingers up and down, over silk and lace. 

Cree’s raw, raucous screams burst through without apology. “Max. Max. Max. Uhhhhh, Max.”

Her climax casts Alex over the edge. She opens her legs wide, wider still, and furiously spirals her clit with her fingers. Her tempo bearing no regard for sensitivity. Round and round, faster and faster, meeting Cree at the top. 

“Fuuuuuuck, Maaaaaaax!”

((Alex))

I

Am

Desperate 

To

Cum

Feel

And 

If 

Her

Pussy

Cascaded

Into

Me

We

Would 

Slide

Alex relinquishes completely.

tip me