Father & Daughter's Couple Massage
T. Ropex
"How is your vacation living up to your expectations?"
the AI asked me.
"One being terribly and 10 being amazing."
"Ten," I said, thoroughly enjoying my first witnessing of a life recording in person. "I just hope the nanites won't have to make humans act like they're supposed to. I mean, they're obsessed with sex. The life recordings show them having sex at the drop of a hat."
"Indeed, the life recording genre known as porn does display that,"
the AI said.
"I have found a place to witness one of your requested scenarios. A father and daughter being massaged together. They shall arrive in fifteen minutes. Shall I take you to the spa?"
"Sure," I said, standing on the street corner and watching the humans passing. Well, they didn't just have sex anywhere. Never with so many people around. I had been hoping to see someone sneaking off to fuck in and out of the way place.
I was in love with this vacation package. The AI transported me to a room where a woman was flipping through a magazine. A massage parlor. A place where women would massage their clients and slowly seduce them into sex.
Or be seduced into sex by their clients. I was so ready to watch the fun as I stood in the corner, unnoticed by the receptionist or the waiting woman. I was so nondescript. Pale skin. Khaki pants. I dressed like a software engineer, the most boring human imagine.
I trembled, waiting for the father and daughter to show up.
* * *
Curtis Thompson
I pulled up to the spa, not sure I wanted to do this, but my daughter, Tiffany, insisted. She was nineteen and the only light left in my world. I parked the car and stared at it, sighing. She smiled at me, patting my hand, her brown hair spilling around her face. She smiled at me, her braces flashing. She was a slender thing, like her mother. A gymnast build.
Her mother, Juliana, had loved being a gymnast.
"Don't be frightened, Dad," said Tiffany. "It's just a spa. You'll still be a red-meat-eating man if you go in there."
I nodded, but it hurt. I was supposed to be here with my wife, but she had passed away from cancer two months ago. A sudden and shocking event. By the time we realized why she was feeling so run down, it was too late. Aggressive. She went fast, leaving this hole in my life. We were just about to start enjoying our life now that Tiffany was an adult, but...
I had bought the couple's package for our anniversary to spoil Juliana. A promise that she would be recover and be more than healty enough to go. A mistake, but Juliana had insisted that I enjoy myself. She wanted me to live after her passing and asked Tiffany to go with me.
I had to move on, but... It was hard. Twenty-three years of marriage. I had spent more of my life with Juliana than without her.
"Come on, Dad," Juliana said, opening her door. She slid out in her sundress. White with blue polka dots. She smiled at me as she stood in the doorway. "Mom didn't want you to mope about the house. You know that."
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "And I don't mope."
"Sure, Dad, whatever you say." She closed the door.
I sighed and climbed out of the car. I rose, looking about. This was going to be a long day, but Juliana wanted me to live again. Even date again. That was a terrifying prospect. They had apps now. Apps. People didn't meet at college mixers or anything. My daughter didn't go to parties. She just hung out with her friends.
I closed the door and locked the car with the fob. My daughter smiled at me as she waited by the entrance. I sighed and moved to her. She looked quite a bit like her mother. She needed to find a guy to make her happy. Or a girl. No judgment these days.
"Maybe you'll have a cute masseuse and you'll hit it off," said Tiffany, a bright smile on her lips.
"I doubt the masseuse wants to be hit on by her customers," I said. "I'm sure she gets enough of that without me adding to it."
My daughter rolled her eyes. "You miss every shot you don't take. Profound, right?"
Maybe to a nineteen-year-old. I smiled anyways and put my arm around her. "You're right. Come on."
I opened the door and headed inside. The receptionist looked up at her desk, a Black woman working on her nails with an emery board. She smiled at me. A nondescript man watched in the corner, but I ignored him. He was just so boring.
"Uh, hi," I said. "Here with my daughter for the, uh... I'm Curtis Thompson."
"Your daughter?" asked the receptionist. "That's so sweet. Yes, yes, I have you here for a, er, a double massage. I'll let them now you're here. Asuka and Beverly will be your masseuses."
"Kay," I said and sat down with my daughter.
This was supposed to be something romantic. The receptionist was curious why I had brought my daughter. I didn't want to talk about Juliana. It hurt. I had this hole in my heart she left. When I woke up in the morning, I was confused as to why my wife wasn't lying beside me.
Was that going to be my life? Waking up confused and wondering where Juliana had gone until...
I sighed and pushed down that grief. I had my daughter. The world wasn't over. She cared about me. That was a wonderful feeling knowing that someone loved me in this world. That I hadn't messed up my relationship with the only bit of Juliana remaining. So I waited for the masseuses.
"If they're cute," my daughter whispered, "you have to hit on one of them."
"It's been two months," I said. "It's too soon."
"Maybe," Tiffany said. "Don't make use that as an excuse, Dad. Let's--"
The door to the reception area opened and two women in pink nurses scrubs appeared. One was a skinny Japanese woman with a sort of frumpy look to her while the other was a stout Black woman, tough and imposing.
"Oh, well," my daughter said, "I guess masseuses aren't automatically cute."
"Curtis Thompson?" the Japanese woman asked as she moved to us. She has a brisk, business-like tone. Her face was rather plain. Even severe.
"Yep," I said. "This is my daughter, Tiffany. Shall we."
"Daughter?" the Black woman asked. "Okay, sir. I'm Beverly, this is Asuka."
They led us back into the spa area, down hallways with closed doors. They brought us to what appeared to be locker rooms, divided between men and women. They each handed us a key that was attached to a stretchy, vinyl coil to stay on our wrists so we wouldn't lose them.
"There are robes inside," said the woman. "Please strip down to at least your underwear. You can be naked if you're comfortable with that."
My daughter's cheeks flushed. "But I can keep my bra on?"