The Chime was like a Tibetan singing bowl. I opened my eyes and looked around the still darkened room. Eastern light was just beginning to filter through the gauzy curtains of the suite. The coffee maker gurgled a final spit of heated water through Découverte and the rich smell filled my nose, blending perfectly with the light scented Caribbean breeze wafting in from the veranda. Rolling off the edge of the bed, I pulled on a linen robe and walked over to the kitchen area. O'k, I know there is no-one here, but even on vacation, I still feel a little awkward walking about naked.
"Hello, what is this?" I said to myself. A small folded card had been left by the coffee maker.
'Good Morning, Mr. Strand,' it said. 'We hope you slept well on your arrival night here at the Isla Truqué Resort.'
The card continued, "Your bath has been drawn and fresh clothes placed in the closet. Your date will be meeting you for breakfast in a private dining room at the La Bonne Nourriture at exactly 8 AM. You and your guest have the complete use of the island and all of it's facilities. Enjoy your morning and the rest of the day.
'Well, that's considerate,' I thought as I recalled the enormous fee for this vacation. This resort was one of a kind, considered one of the most luxurious in the world and it had very unique feature. Everyone here is an automaton. The 'date' the card referred to was a woman engineered to meet my very exacting specifications, and I was very specific. I knew my date would be five foot, seven inches tall, with pale skin, shoulder-length auburn hair and a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and across her shoulders. She would appear to be about my age, very healthy with exceptional muscle tone. Of course, her breasts would be ample, but not too much and not with that fake, poked-out look. No, my artificial woman was not going to look fake.
And, I knew her name was Helen.
I took my mug to the bath and settled into 105 degree scented water to plan my day. I was told anything, literally anything I desired could be done with my new woman, Helen.
---
"The Oleanders here are lovely, don't you think?" I asked.
Helen started and turned from the window toward me.
"Hello, Helen. I am Hank Strand," I said, holding out my hand. "It is wonderful to meet you."
"It is nice to meet you too, Hank Strand, " she smiled, a little shyly, as she extended her hand.
I took her hand kissed it as I watched her eyes. Her irises fluttered in and out and her cheeks blushed just a bit. There was even a little red in the skin on her chest just above her sun dress. Very human. Very realistic. Man, those automation guys are good.
"We're going to have a great day, I think, so why don't we enjoy some food and get to know each other," I said as I held her chair out for her.
The table had been set for us with a board of smoked salmon, creamed cheese, capers and red onions for us to nosh on with toasted bagels while the chef cooked avocado omelets and baby red potatoes with rosemary for us at a side table. Our waiter served Ataúlfo Mango Champagne in fluted glasses. We finished breakfast with dark Colombian coffee infused with butter and coconut oil.
I was very curious about Helen's programmed back story, so I quizzed her about where she came from, about her family, what she did for work, what she did for fun. I learned she lived in St. Louis, had been married to a banker, worked in the broadcast media and enjoyed outdoor activities. Try as I might, I could not find a flaw in her narrative. The way she spoke, the emotions she exhibited, and the depth of her knowledge was excellent. What really surprised me was that Helen was very curious about me. Very curious.
"So, Hank, tell me about what you do," she asked.
"Oh, this and that. I have some investment businesses in the States that keep me busy- and reasonably well-heeled," I responded. I've never been very comfortable telling people I inherited a bunch of money and really don't have to work.
"Really?" she said narrowing her eyes a bit. "Your arms are pretty muscular, so I would have guessed you do something physical, like construction... but your hands are smooth, like and accountant."
"Oh, really?" I responded looking at my palm and then the back of my hand. "You think so?"
"Actually, the combination may be perfect," She offered and looked at me a little salaciously "I bet you give great massages."
Whoa! There it was. I was wondering how my automaton was going to steer the conversation, and she did so very subtly and quick.
I grinned at Helen and said, "Maybe we should find out. Do you think we can find a bottle of massage oil around here?"
"Oh I would guess so." She replied and smiled as she stood and took my hand.
---
Through the garden of the resort, past the pool, the management has thoughtfully provided a massage table under an open-air cabana by the beach in a grove of coconut palms. Helen and I found our way there and helped ourselves to ice cold bottles of Dos Equis' from a stainless cooler by the table.
Helen leaned against the massage table with her arms crossed as she sipped her beer watching the waves roll in to the shore. Her hair was lifted by the breeze and her pale blue eyes sparkled from the sun glinting off the water. She turned and looked me over, down to my sandalled feet and said, almost casually, "Take your shirt off, Hank."
After a quick glance around, I set my beer down and pulled the Hawaiian shirt over my head, not taking the time to unbutton it. Helen giggled at the awkward move, but she paused a moment and lightly traced her finger tips down my chest, my stomach, stopping just short of my belt. "Nice," she remarked.
"Now, undress me," she said.
I took my time with the buttons down the front of her sun dress and, when I had them all, I slowly peeled the dress off her shoulders and let it slip to the ground. She was watching me, I think sensing me with her little mechanical mind, feeling me get aroused as her freckled breast was exposed. My face was inches away from her skin as I sank to one knee and was eye level with her bikini bottom. I angled my head and looked up as if to ask for permission. She cocked her head to the side and made a smirking face at me that said, 'Well, duh. Take that off too.' So, I grabbed the bikini edges that rode high on her hips and pulled them down to her ankles.
Facing her neatly trimmed, bare crotch, I felt compelled to lean in and nuzzle her a little, but she grabbed my ears and tugged me away.
"Ow! Ow, Ow, OW!" I exclaimed. "That hurt!"
Helen was smiling. "It's time for that massage you promised, Hank."
"O'k," I answered morosely while rubbing my ears. I guess the automaton programmers had built in some sort of 'tease' protocol, but I was hoping we where going to get to the hardcore fucking I had planned. Sooner, rather than later.
Helen arranged rolled towels on the massage table, deftly climbed up and laid face down. I picked up the glass bowl of clear oil from stand next to the table and dribbled small drops across her back. Satisfied I had enough to work with, I set the bowl down and began massaging her muscles, starting with her shoulders. I know something about body mechanics, and everything seemed to be exactly in the right place. As I pressed my fingers into and across her upper back, her skin rolled and I could feel her musculature move under my thumbs. It was remarkable how much she felt like a real woman. Her skin was perfectly imperfect, with the color variation you would expect in a fair woman on vacation in a tropical resort. I stooped for a closer look at her pores and tiny, fine hairs. Beautiful. Helen moaned with contentment.
I worked my way down her lower back and felt her arch a little as my thumbs dug in deeper, touching some internal sensory trigger. Her ass was heart shaped and creamy white. I could feel my heartbeat rise and my face flush as I dipped my thumbs deep into each cheek, almost touching her hip bones through her feminine fat pads and toned muscle. If her head had not been turned away, Helen could not have missed the growing tent in my white pants. My fingers slipped between her shiny cheeks and I felt the thickened skin of her asshole. I pressed my finger in just a bit.
Helen jerked her head around and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't do that."
