RELUCTANT PRESS

humiliation to continue for what seemed forever. I was really mad at my mother!

That was an awful thing to say, I thought, but like so many other times in the past and in the future, I said nothing. And then a really perverse thought entered my mind what would it be like to have a period?

When that group of women had left my mother checked the clock and the appointment book.

"Good! Ahead of schedule. Mrs. Lindsey isn't due for another ten minutes and she's always late so that gives us just enough time. Quickly! Go shampoo your hair."

"What for?" I asked.

"You heard Mrs. Wales. We'll need to get your hair done for tonight. I'll set yours and when we get a break you can do mine. Now hurry!"

"Mom! I can't be seen with my hair in curlers! That will convince everybody I'm queer! I'll never live it down. No! I won't!" I said, without the force that this statement needed to be effective. I made it sound almost like a question.

"How dare you! You're still not too old for a spanking, young man. Now do as you're told or you won't be able to sit the rest of the day."

Well, I tried! And I lost.

As I bent over the sink, I remembered the last time she had spanked me, just a few months ago. Mom had certainly not been one to spank a lot but did not hesitate when the occasion demanded it. It had been a very busy day in the shop and it seemed that everything had gone wrong. My mother complained that I had taken a customer out from under the dryer too soon and her hair was still wet. She told me to be more attentive to my work and as I turned to escort the woman back to the dryer I muttered "Bitch" under my breath but my mother heard it. After I had seated the customer my mother took my arm and led me to her chair and bent me over the arm rest and spanked me with a hairbrush in full view of all the customers. It hurt like hell and I was embarrassed as hell but not nearly as much as if she had pulled down my pants and everyone saw my panties. At least she was considerate about that, I thought thankfully as I endured the pain of the whacks. When she was done, all the

RUFFLES & CURLES

By Kammi Morton

women applauded and commented about how the "younger generation" was getting so out of hand.

I slumped in the chair and pouted while my mother quickly wound my hair on rollers. She was just finishing when Mrs. Lindsey walked in the door.

"Taking my appointment, are you?" she asked good naturedly as she watched my mother put a pink hair net over the set.

"Now, you get any breaks, even for five or ten minutes, sit under a dryer. Hear me?" my mother asked sternly.

I just nodded in assent, feeling absolutely terrible about been seen with my hair in curlers.

"Big date tonight?" Mrs. Lindsey asked as I led her to the sink for her shampoo.

"Yeah, kinda," I muttered.

"Well, I'm sure that you'll look very nice."

It was probably indicative of how the customers had come to accept me as one of the "regulars" in the salon that almost nobody said anything about the fact that my hair was set. Certainly it was not so shocking for a boy that they always saw in a pink smock and for all purposes working as an apprentice hairdresser.

One or two people repeated the question "Big date?" and one said she'd love to see how my hair came out. My real embarrassment came when a new customer arrived to get her hair done. She was accompanying her husband to a convention and so this was a one and only visit. Mrs. Winston had a kind, grand motherly look.

She studied me as I bent over to wash her hair and I felt very uneasy. She was no doubt wondering what kind of weirdo I was, looking the way I did. I brought her to Mom's chair and stood by to hand the rollers.

Mrs. Raiche, Mom's longest and best customer (she got her hair done twice a week) was sitting in the next chair waiting for her color to process.

me.

"I'll bet all the boys are after you!" Mrs. Winston noted to

My first though was of me running down the street in my smock, white slacks, and curlers being chased by a bunch of guys shouting "sissy" and "faggot" and "queer".

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