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Carrie briefly cast Chris a concerned glance before looking back at the road. “You okay, hon?” She asked softly.
Chris stared at the rearview mirror, but the police barricade was already out of sight. Her mind spun while adrenaline surged through her. Why did she smell so much blood? Why did something in the air make her feel so uneasy? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt that things were changing in a very general sense. As if her life, or the world itself, was entering a disturbing new paradigm detached and wholly unrelated to her having to adjust to life as a woman. “O-- oh,” she blinked and looked at Carrie, realizing the woman had asked a question. “Sorry. I just had a weird feeling about the police barricade. I think it’s because my nose is so sensitive now; I could smell all the blood and what not,” she admitted.
Carrie nodded. “I get it; I’m sure it’s not easy adjusting to all that foxiness on top of the whole sex change thing.”
“That’s an understatement,” Chris snorted and shook her head. “It’s fine, though. I’m going to try to relax and enjoy the rest of the day; I don’t want to keep dwelling on things since I’ve already done enough of that.”
“Fair enough,” Carrie nodded. “I’ll try to help you get your mind off of all the things, then,” she insisted with a slight smile.
“Sounds great,” Chris smiled weakly in response. She was desperate to get her mind to shut up and calm down for a little while.
Before long, Carrie pulled into a strip mall parking lot and found a spot in front of the ‘Wayfarer Salon,’ which had a few other cars parked in front.
Upon stepping out of the car, Chris glanced at the sign, which was lit up with neon, light blue italic letters. She hesitantly followed behind Carrie, and upon stepping inside, was shocked by how cozy the business appeared. The floors were hardwood, with soft brown paint coating the walls. Various pieces of art here hung up, along with a variety of tasteful plants, bookshelves, and a motif of various avian creatures around. The outline of eagles, hawks, and other birds were painted on the walls in various spots, with wooden furnishings that were similarly etched feathery flair.
“This-- is kinda nice,” Chris admitted as she looked around.
“Isn’t it?” Carrie smiled. “Sit tight, I’ll check your place in line; I scheduled you online,” she said innocently before trotting to the front desk.
Chris blushed and merely nodded before taking a seat upon one of the dark oak wooden chairs with a crimson-red cushion. ‘Do I really want to go through with this?’ She mused, sliding her fingers through her sandy-blond hair. Admittedly, her hair was starting to reach her shoulders and had become somewhat unruly. Despite gradually embracing many aspects of womanhood, she had no intention of growing her hair out. “I guess there’s no avoiding it forever,” she mused and shook her head. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want her hair to at least look halfway decent.
“You must be Chris,” a feminine voice warmly stated, causing Chris to look up. The woman standing before her had long, soft brown hair that was immaculately cared for. Her bangs were cut to just above her eyes before elongating at the sides and framing her face perfectly. The rest of her hair trailed down her back and shined with a glossy sheen.
“Y-- Yes, that’s me,” the fox girl said softly as she stood to her feet.
“Savannah,” the woman curtly replied as she touched her chin and eyed Chris from top to bottom.
Chris turned redder and shrunk away slightly under the gaze of Savannah’s deep, chestnut brown eyes. Close inspections were a surefire way to make her bashful.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Carrie cleared her throat. “Ahem-- do you think you can help?”
“Hmmm… What was that?” Savannah asked, briefly glancing at Carrie while appearing dazed. “Oh, yes,” she said a second later, locking into Chris once more. “I can absolutely help you, dear,” she promised with a slight smile. “Come right this way,” she insisted, turning to walk off while gesturing for Chris to follow.
“R-- Right,” Chris nodded, following close behind.
When Carrie started to follow, Savannah turned and shook her head. “No, dear. You know the policy; wait up front and I’ll take care of this precious being,” she insisted.
Carrie sighed and scratched her head. “Okay, fair enough.” She looked at Chris and flashed the ‘okay’ sign to her. “You’re in good hands; Savannah is a bit of an oddball, but she knows what she’s doing.”
“There’s simply nothing odd about me,” Savannah gently huffed before continuing her way back.
Carrie sat in the waiting area and laughed. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”
When offered a seat, Chris sat in the salon chair and sank into it nervously, glancing around at all of the salon fixtures. As a man, she would go to the barber once in a while for a basic haircut, or just shave all her hair off and let it grow back if she didn’t feel like dealing with it. Now, however, she felt an intrinsic and frustrating desire to put more effort into her hair; it seemed more an extension of herself than it had previously. “Apologies in advance; I’m new to all of this and have no idea what I’m doing.”
“New?” Savannah asked wryly, tilting her head. “Mmmm…” She appeared lost in thought as she gently curled her hair around her finger.
After another five seconds, Chris squirmed uncomfortably and added, “Err-- I just mean that I’m not used to getting my hair styled or whatever,” she admitted.
“Oh? Such a cute creature isn’t used to getting pampered?” Savannah asked incredulously while raising an eyebrow. “What a shame; it makes absolutely no sense to me.”
Chris was thankful that Carrie hadn’t spilled her secret; she didn’t need confidants telling others that she used to be male. However, in this instance, maybe that information would be helpful. “I went through transience recently; I-- well… I used to be male, and hadn’t really cared much about my hair in any meaningful way. This is my first time doing anything like this since becoming like this,” she admitted, her heart rate picking up as she told the truth.
“Ahhhh…” Savannah pursed her lips and gave Chris another look over, slowly circling her as she sat in the salon chair. “Being male is no excuse not to be pampered and lavished,” she said simply. “No matter; we will rectify this,” she stated matter-of-factly, entirely unphased by learning her client’s secret.
“I guess you have a point,” Chris conceded, her cheeks burning red. Seeing someone so unbothered by the nature of her transience was relieving in a sense. The people who knew had, so far, been more or less supportive.
“You’ve given me plenty to work with, young Miss,” Savannah stated whimsically, adjusting the chair so Chris faced the mirror. “Your eyes are a gorgeous shade of red-- a perfect, slightly almond shape. Soft, feminine, and symmetrical facial features and full, strong hair. The question is, where do we go from here?”
Chris stared at her reflection and squirmed slightly. Savannah was definitely a unique individual. “Something not too long? No longer than halfway past my chin, I suppose. I don’t want hair on my shoulders. Something low maintenance-- maybe a style where I won’t have to worry about my hair falling in my face constantly without hair clips or whatever,” she shrugged, unsure of what she wanted.
Savannah nodded. “Something youthful and cute for you-- a cut that frames your face doesn’t hide your eyes,” she suggested with a slight smile. “Something slightly mischievous perhaps, as would befit a fox.”
Chris wouldn’t have picked those words necessarily, but she didn’t hate the concept. It was impossible to deny that the face reflected back at her was adorable; wouldn’t it be nice to have a haircut that exemplified her cute facial qualities? She blushed a little deeper and averted her eyes. Her sense of vanity had changed quite a lot already; despite having only changed recently, she found herself envisioning ways in which she could accentuate her more feminine qualities and look nice. Then again, it wasn’t like she had any masculine qualities left to expand upon. “Do you have something specific in mind?” She finally asked, noticing that Savannah once again appeared lost in thought.
“Mmmhmm,” the brown-haired woman nodded. “One moment.” She disappeared briefly, appearing in front of Chris moments later with a large binder that she promptly opened and turned through. “Mmm… Yes, yes… Almost,” she muttered as the page turning slowed down. The edges of her mouth curled upward as she held the opened binder up to Chris. “Something along these lines. A medium-length bob cut-- a little past the chin. A relaxed style that will look perfect with the natural wave of your hair and a little bit of flare at the bottom.”
Chris stared at the hairstyle on the page, which was displayed at various angles. As described, the bangs were cut above the model’s eyes, with the maximum length only a little past the jaw. With the full, wavy quality of her hair and a slight flare-out at the bottom, the look was as described-- playful, cute, and feminine. She also liked the slight sweeping quality of the bangs and how said bangs seemed to naturally merge into the longer hair that framed the face. Could she really pull something like that off? Something so girlish and youthful? She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “Do you think a cut like that would suit me?”
“Yes,” Savannah replied plainly. “I performed the very cut in these pictures and I refuse to give anyone a haircut I deem remotely imperfect for their face and personality. The better question is, do you want a haircut like this?”
A strange fuzziness washed over Chris as she stared hard at the images. ‘Do I want this?’ She found the girl in the pictures supremely cute; was this what she wanted? The very thought of getting a nice haircut made her equal parts confused and giddy. If this was what she wanted, why fight it? Why put up such a fuss? “Y-- yes,” she conceded with a nod. “Let’s give it a shot; this is what I want,” Chris insisted, her words gaining confidence near the end.
Savannah chuckled softly. “As you wish. Please put your faith in me and listen when I need you to close your eyes or turn your head.”
Chris could hardly believe she was actually going through with this. She took a slow breath and put her fate in Savannah’s hands. She felt Savannah gently touch and inspect her hair, looking closely at points while occasionally nodding her head and assumedly making mental notes.
Eventually, Savannah rotated the chair around and pulled on gloves. “Head back into the sink gently; there’s a groove right there.”
Chris glanced at the sink and nodded, resting her head back while taking a slow and steady breath to calm herself. Before long, the water temperature was perfect and the shampooing process began. As Savannah’s fingers massaged her scalp, she shivered as a pleasant tingling sensation washed through her scalp and body. “Mmmm…” Any anxiety she had melted away, disappearing into the current of warm water. The gentle scalp rubbing-- the water, the lathering. All of it felt incredible and she started to understand why women often enjoyed such luxuries.
“Part of my job is to ensure you’re fully relaxed and feeling good about your decision,” Savannah insisted. “If I make you uncomfortable in any way, please let me know,” she added before continuing her work, being extra careful not to agitate the sensitive set of fox ears atop her client’s head.
“Yeah…” Chris mumbled, keeping her eyes closed as she let her body and limbs fully relax, breathing rhythmically as Savannah worked her magic. She found herself hanging on that thought. Working her magic? In her calm state, she recognized something strange. It wasn’t negative in any way, but she could have sworn she felt something permeate her scalp, emanating from the stylist’s fingertips. A faint, mostly inaudible whispering momentarily entered her ears, but it was different from the whispers that guided her toward spell usage. These felt far more external, as if she was merely catching glimpses of whispering meant for another. There was no way for her to make out a single word, but she felt fairly confident Savannah was using magic of some kind.
Sensing no malice or ill intention from the hair stylist, Chris was unbothered. Conversely, she was impressed; how lucky could she be to find a hair stylist who can use magic? She was obviously a kind person and a master of her craft, so whatever magic was in use would inevitably only serve to enhance her prowess. “That feels quite nice,” Chris muttered, her tail gently swishing from where it stuck out from behind the chair.
CHAPTER END
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