Mindy's New Boss

Amy was a gorgeous, who knows how old, mixed Asian beauty. Even my wife could not take her eyes off our guest. Pip, our daughter, appeared completely unaffected by Amy's beauty. They actually seemed more like best friends than what the boss/employee relationship would normally call for.

Pip, short for Pipsqueak, had decided she wanted to work in a massage parlour to pay her way through college. We reluctantly agreed and, after much pressure, I'd become her guinea pig or more specifically, the one she practiced "happy endings" on. It had been a month since she'd been certified by the state and it was now time for her to begin taking on clients. To date, she'd been working as a receptionist at the establishment where she was going to practice her craft. Amy owned the massage parlour.

Pip, or Mindy to everyone but my wife and I, had asked if she could bring Amy to dinner so we could meet her. Pip thought most of our apprehension would vanish if we met this new friend/employer and we agreed. I think we still had hope that Pip would change her mind and that we might be able to show her, through our conversation with Amy, that the "life" was not really as glamorous as Pip thought it was going to be. But such was not going to be the case, and I realized it as soon as this stunningly beautiful woman entered our house. Glamorous does not even come close to describing the smoldering beauty of the woman. And she was smart to boot.

Amy was very open about her work, her life and what our daughter had in store for her own career if she kept a level head.

My wife asked her if we could talk openly. Amy smiled and nodded her head in assent.

My wife asked her about what she allowed her employees to do with customers. Amy answered in a very frank and descriptive way.

"I don't let my customers do anything kinky. No rough stuff, no water-sports and no drugs of any kind are allowed in my establishment. The girls can use their hands, their mouths, or their privates, I even let some do anal if I know in advance that is what the client wants. But it is solely at the discretion of the masseuse."

"Pip," I said, "I mean Mindy, told us she only wants to use her hands."

"She's practiced on you right?"

I thought of not answering, but looked at Pip who nodded yes, so I confirmed the answer to Amy's question.

"Well she's a beautiful girl and if that's what she wants to set as her working limits, I'm happy with that. I'll make sure all of her clients understand the limits too. But I don't usually worry too much about it because I know every client will want oral relief sooner or later. Then, Mindy either provides it, or she'll begin to lose customers."

"I know that," Pip acknowledged. "But since this is a part time job, and not a career, I think I can get by with less income. But there are other ways to keep clients without having to give in to demands or requests I'm uncomfortable with and Amy knows my feelings"

"That's fine with me. In fact," Amy continued, "if you ever have a problem with any of your clients, I'll speak to them. If they persist, I'll invite them not to come back."

"How did you get into the business," my wife asked?

"Oh my mother and her mother and probably a few generations before that were in the business."

"Don't you wish you could do something else," I asked?

"Dad. That's almost rude," Pip scolded. "For one thing, you don't even know if Amy likes her work or not."

"You're right." Turning to Amy, I apologized and told her I knew that somewhere in my curiosity was a question I could not articulate, but it was there none-the-less.

"It's okay and thanks for your courtesy and Mindy, thank you for sticking up for me. However, I would like to guess at the question you really want to ask."

"Okay," I said.

"I think, he wanted to know if you've become jaded," my wife offered.

"If I can be a bit more blunt, I think your husband," Amy said, turning to look me square in the eye, "wanted to know if I still enjoy sex. Well let me answer by first asking the question of you in a different way."

"Okay, shoot," I said.

"Do you enjoy sex?"

"Of course."

"Did you enjoy it more when you were first experimenting with it, or do you enjoy it more now?"

"Hmmm," I thought, "it is much different now than it was then? Now, I, we are very comfortable with each other. In fact, lately, the sex has been really first rate, at least for me it has been."

"Me too," my wife added.

"Okay, did you love woodworking when you took your first shop class?"

"Oh, absolutely. I knew immediately it was what I wanted to do the first time I finished a project and put a coat of lacquer on it."

"And how many projects have you completed since then?"

"Oh gosh, I don't know. Let's see an average of two, no make that three a week for the last twenty-five years. What's that, a couple thousand or so."

"Closer to four thousand," Pip said.

"Really," I asked?

"And do you enjoy each project as much now as you did in the beginning?"

"Well it's different of course," I said. "This is my work now and I take pride in my work...oh, I get it. After repeating the same thing for so long, you enjoy it in a different way."

"Pretty much," Amy agreed.

"Geez Dad. If you've done that many projects in twenty-five years, think how many bouquets and arrangements Mom has done." Turning to her mother she continued, "Mom, do you ever get tired of your job?"

"No sweetie I don't. I love my work and I can't imagine doing anything else. But the way society looks at what your father and I do, is way different from what Amy does and what you want to do."

"Yes it is," Amy interjected. "But it is what I do, and I enjoy almost all aspects of it, albeit in a different way now than when I was a young girl, but I still enjoy it."

"Do you have a pimp," I blurted out?

"DAD! God that was uncalled for."

I immediately felt ashamed.

Amy looked at me for a few seconds before she answered. Not to let me stew, but to gather her thoughts before she spoke.

"No. I do not, have not ever, and will never, let a man tell me what to do. I do not hate men nor resent their penis (Pip giggled) and actually love some of the men I give my body to. But know this; no man can use me for his own gain. Oh, and one more thing," she said, "I really think pimps are borderline homo-sexual and get their jollies through their girls activities in a vicarious manner."

"Goodness," my wife said. "You are very articulate and seem to be educated. This is not what I expected at all."

Amy named the Ivy League college and the year she graduated. Now I felt really outclassed.

"One more thing I'd like to explain. Maybe it will help you understand me and why I really like your daughter so much."

"Go ahead," my wife said.

"When I get up in the morning, I don't think 'Oh, today I'm going to have a man's penis in my mouth' or 'hmmm, I hope no fat men come in today'. No, I think about my daughter in school, the bills I have to pay, the lawyer's latest bill and so on. I get up to go to work, just like you do. Oh, I may put on a bit more make-up then the average carpenter (we laughed), but that's just part of my uniform. It's a profession, a job. But after awhile, it becomes a way of life."

"In a way," my wife interrupted, "it is a shame we, I mean our society, our heritage, frowns on your work. I, no, I mean we, have had a tough time coming to grips with Pip's, I mean Mindy's choice, but I think I have a more clear understanding of why she wants to do it, besides the money aspect. I think, to some extent, she looks up to you as a role model, in an odd sort of way."

"Oh, I do Mom. I think Amy is a really cool chick." We all laughed before Pip continued. "But, even though I respect Amy, this is not something I want for the rest of my life. Not even if I knew I could be as financially secure as you are," she said turning to Amy, "would I think about this as an end unto itself. For me, it is a means to an end, and that is why I seem to feel no trepidation whatsoever."

We were silent for a few minutes.

"So Amy," I finally said. "Why else did you come here this evening?"

"Your Dad is more perceptive than I first thought."

Pip grinned, got up from the table and walked around behind her mother. She put her hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. The gesture was a bit puzzling until...

"I came to teach Mindy how to please a woman."

"Come again," I said.

"I'm going to give your wife a massage and then I'm going to give her a happy ending. From what Mindy tells me, your wife has been very patient and understanding while you were the recipient of many happy endings. She thinks it's time your wife got a little something as well. By the way, I agree."

Just when I thought it could not get any stranger...

"Also," my daughter added, "I'm not going to limit myself to male customers."

"Oh, thank goodness," my wife exclaimed.

And stranger still...

"Oh, and we'd like you to watch. Who knows, you might pick up some pointers."

My wife looked like she'd been struck by lightning. Though her body was dead still, her eyes darted back and forth between Amy and me. She was probably looking at Amy with a mixture of lust and fear, and looking at me for approval. I was absolutely thrilled by the idea.

When our daughter first touched my penis, I didn't get hard. But, after awhile, especially once she started baring her breasts, I was hard just thinking about our new relationship. To top it off, my wife was always in the room both as an observer and to offer insights to Pip on what I enjoyed and what she'd learned about the male anatomy over the years from being with me. Somehow, the thought of Amy teaching Pip the way to pleasure a woman and then giving my wife a happy ending, washed away my last vestiges of guilt. With this latest thoughtful gift from our daughter, my wife too would be complicit in this whole, strange and, to be quite honest, totally exciting affair.

While Pip and her mother went to get ready, Amy and I cleaned the table and put everything in the dishwasher. I got four goblets out of our hutch, chose a bottle of port, and led Amy to our master bedroom.

Now if, at that very moment, you were driving by our house, you might have noticed the lights on and not given the occupants or the activities that were taking place inside a second thought. But, if you knew what was about to take place, you would slam on the brakes, jump out of your car, run to the door, and ask to pay any amount for an admission to the show about to unfold. Believe me, whatever price the ticket commanded would be worth it. I know, and I've got the only ticket in town.

When we got inside, I was surprised at the transformation of our room. Earlier in the day, my daughter had sent my wife and me out to buy special foods for our dinner. Now I realized it was a ruse to get us out of the house.

Apparently, while we'd been out, Pip had brought in a wash tub, a massage pad, and two of our most comfortable chairs. She'd moved the bed to a different part of the room so there was ample space for her and me to watch while Amy worked her magic on my wife.

After a moment, Pip came into the room carrying buckets of warm water which she poured into the wash tub. Steam rose up from the tub and I knew the water was too hot for anyone at that very moment. But soon, the temperature of the room reduced the heat to a manageable degree.

My wife came in from the hall. She had been in Pip's room, getting ready for her ritualistic bath. She wore her favorite bathrobe and had her hair wrapped up in a white cotton towel. She looked just a tad apprehensive.

I immediately stood up and walked to the doorway to escort her into this most interesting of situations. I had the experience. I had been the guinea pig. I had been the recipient of several "happy endings" over the past month. Now, it was her turn and I wanted to be the one that delivered her to our daughter.

She took my arm, looked up at me and smiled, and then nodded for us to proceed.

When my wife was in the tub, Amy looked first at me and then at Pip.

"Mindy," she said. "I think you should give your mother a bath."

Pip/Mindy beamed. "Okay," she answered. "I know what to do."

She walked to the side of her mother, reached up and removed the towel from around her head, ran her fingers through my wife's hair like a rake and then removed the bathrobe that was covering my wife's body.

My wife started to cover herself, but thought better of it and dropped her hands to her sides.

Pip, poured water over her mother's head and stepped back to watch as it flowed down her body.

I had never been more enthralled with any sight in my life. My wife, I should explain, is a very beautiful woman. Not like Amy or our daughter, but in her own way, every bit as beautiful as anyone her age. The water washing down over her, added a sheen to her skin that created a surrealistic, almost artistic touch to that beauty and it had all of us staring.

"Now," Amy said to Pip, "wash her. Wash each and every part of her body and hair. Don't just think of getting her clean, but instead think beyond that, think of taking every ounce of tension from her as you proceed with the bath."

My wife shuddered.

Pip lathered a shampoo into her mother's hair. When her head was completely covered in the white froth, Pip began to massage her scalp and after a few minutes began a rubbing up and down on the back of her mother's neck.

My wife slumped visibly, prompting Pip to reach out and grab her. When she did, my wife took an awkward step splashing water out on to Pip's jeans.

"Take off your clothes Pip," Amy commanded in the softest yet firmest voice I could imagine.

Without hesitation, Pip began taking off her clothes, removing her jeans, her panties, her top and bra. When she was undressed, she stepped into the tub without being told.

When her mother felt her enter the tub, she reached behind herself and, using her hands to find Pip's abdominal area, scooted back just a bit and then pulled Pip up against her back. Pip reached both arms around her mother and then kissed her on the shoulder.

My wife, whose eyes were still closed because of the shampoo, smiled and then sighed, the deepest, most soul-satisfying sigh I'd ever heard emanate from another human being. To compound the assault of her senses, Pip raised her own hands up to the side of her mother's head and began working her hands and fingers in and around her mother's ears, first to the backside and then, following the crevice as it wound its way from the top of her ear all the way inside, turning her finger forward and backward, massaging the inside of her mother's ear as far as was safe. The look of absolute bliss on my wife's face said everything.

It was odd, this gift of a child to her mother. It was so beautiful, it never dawned on me that this was the first time I had seen our daughter totally naked since she was a little girl. However, something I found even more puzzling; was the fact I did not leer. Instead, I felt I was witness to a healing, a ritualistic bonding of two human souls. It is still in my memory playing out in similar fashion to the way a favorite song does when it pops into your head from time to time. I cherish it and would not trade it for the world.

"Mindy," Amy said, startling me out of my reverie. "It is time."

Here were those three words again. I remember how I felt when my daughter uttered them just a short few weeks ago. I knew my wife would co-operate, but I also knew the mixed emotions she would feel throughout the process.

Pip began to wash her mother in earnest. She first lathered her backside, all the way down to the heels of her feet. She then used a scrub cloth to gently massage body soap onto her mother's entire backside.

Pip used the cloth in a circular fashion to gently exfoliate the dead skin cells and then rinsed the soap from her mother's back. My wife's skin was beautifully pink in color and I knew my daughter was just beginning the process of the bath. It was that realization that made me, in a good way; both envious of my wife and glad for her at the same time.

Turning my wife to face her, Pip then repeated the process on the front of her mother's body. When she lifted her breast to wash the ribcage underneath, my wife let out a tiny gasp. Pip looked at Amy who just nodded indicating Pip should continue.

I could see my wife's nostrils flare as her breathing became laboured. I realized, having known my wife since we were in Junior High School, that this was only the second time and second person in her life to touch her breast, well, with the exception of her periodic physical, but I mean in a way meant to bring pleasure. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. I sensed from her occasional whimper, she was experiencing ecstasy. Pip then did the strangest thing; she kissed her mother. Immediately, they embraced.

I turned to see what Amy's reaction was to the unfolding events, but was surprised when I saw her eyes closed. I tapped her on the knee.

She turned, smiled and whispered, "So beautiful," then looked back in the direction of Pip and her mother.

Pip bent to finish washing her mother, from the thighs down to the feet. I don't know where or how she became so graceful, but both her posture and her movements reminded me of those ballet dances my wife likes to watch on television. To this point in her life, Pip was neither athletic nor musical, but the way she worked her mother's body was exquisite to watch. Then it dawned on me; Pip was a woman and of course, would know what felt good to another woman. I knew, as a spectator, I too was learning. Maybe that's why Amy and Pip wanted me to observe.

"Now, finish," Amy said.

"Like you showed me?" Pip asked.

"Just like I showed you," Amy answered.

She took a fresh cloth and poured water on it, then spread my wife's legs and washed her groin. Pip, using the cloth, wiped her mother's vaginal lips with a bit of pressure; first lengthwise and then, pulling the lips apart, running the cloth along the cleft. My wife grabbed Pip's hand to stop her, pulled her legs tightly together and shuddered.

"Did you come?" Amy asked.

My wife just smiled and nodded.

"That's good. Now Mindy," Amy continued, "her backside."

Pip poured more water on the cloth, turned her mother around and used the cloth to clean, first her butt crack and then her anus. Her mother tried not to resist as Pip inserted her finger, but I could tell it was a struggle.

When she was finished, she poured water over her mother to rinse the soap off. Stepping out of the tub onto towels she'd laid on the floor, she held her mother's hand and steadied her as she too, stepped out of the tub.

After drying her mother, Pip helped her lay face-down on the mat.

"I thought massage was done on a table," I said.

"We do massage" Amy responded, "in the Thai fashion. You'll see the need to be grounded as I begin to manipulate your wife's body."

With that, Amy asked Pip to cover her mother in a sheet, handed Pip her mother's robe, and, while watching my wife, took off her own dress. I stared open-mouthed. Her body was perfect for her frame. It was difficult to tell her age when looking at her face. It was just as hard to determine her age from the perfect condition of her body.

Her panties and chemise were the most beautiful shade of white I've ever seen, especially up against her copper skin. I'm sure the set must have cost in the hundreds of dollars, but she seemed to wear both like I wear jeans and t-shirts, with absolute disregard for anything other than comfort.

"In Bangkok, we learn about the human body the way a chiropractor does in the West. Though," Amy continued, "we don't call it medicine or any other such name, we approach the art and practice of massage the same as a physician would when it comes to helping a patient."