Sex Mage Son-in-law

Chapter 8

“Good morning and welcome to Lux Beauty Salon,” The receptionist said upon his arrival.

“Thank you.” He scanned through the extensive ultra-modern spa. Larger than what he saw online. 

“Who knows? They might have syphoned money from Luxville to build here.” He scoffed within, before turning to the lady in white long sleeve shirt and black trousers. 

“We offer facials, body scrubs, steam baths, hydrotherapy, aromatherapy, manicure and pedicure services. Which would you like, sir?” She paused and tried to catch her breath before finishing her sentence.

Seeing this, Tristan slightly scrunched his nose in an awkward way and gave a small smile. “I'm here to apply as a Sexual Therapist and Female Massager.” He said, tendering his CV. 

A brief lift of lips came from the lady's face before she inhaled and took his CV from him. She went through it, nodding repeatedly before handing it over to him and demanded for his details which she scribbled into the system. 

Then she handed him a number tag. 

“I was hoping you could direct me to the boss’s office,” Tristan snapped.

“The office is at the far end of the corridor,” she replied.

“Any queue?” 

The receptionist shook her head. “Actually you're late.” He gulped but the tamper of her hands soothed his sudden shock. He waited to hear what she had to say next. 

“You're still in time but presumably the last person.” 

“Ooh. Thank you,” Tristan pressed his chest in relief. Turning around, he headed for the pointed location. His steps were steady and coordinated but his mind ran with zillions of thoughts. 

“I've got to fuck her. I really need to.” He kept on saying as he approached his destination.

When he entered, he saw only an empty desk.

“Ding!”

The soft sound caught Tristan’s attention, and he looked toward the left corner of the office. A beautiful woman in her late-forties walked in through the door, wearing a beige wrap-style spa uniform.

“Sorry I came at this time,” he said. “I saw the vacancy late.”

She said nothing. Tristan remained calm and casually watched her movements. His eyes were all over her, making his own careful assessments. 

Kayla Clarkson. A sexy demon. The results of his assessment read.

She pushed her dark blonde hair back and briefly glanced at him before sitting behind the desk and switching on the computer beside her.

She nodded, and Tristan understood it was his cue to sit.

“So, you’re Tristan right?” she asked. The interview had begun.

“Yes. Tristan Kennedy.” He gave his fake name. 

“You’re nineteen and currently a college student?” she asked, reading through her desktop.

“Yes,” Tristan replied, as he continued to look at her with the same calm attitude.

“Tell me about yourself.” She relaxed on her seat with her hands clutched together, locking eyes with him. 

“What makes you think you can use my company to satisfy one of your perverted fantasies?” Kayla asked. “I'm pretty sure you don't have a girlfriend?” 

His brows went low. “Why? Is it visible enough?” He whispered, amused. 

“Why the sudden question? Part of my interview?” He wondered. 

She leaned back in her comfortable chair, but her expression stayed sharp and watchful like a hawk.

Seeing this…

“Well, I’m Tristan. I grew up in a family of six women, my mother and five sisters. I’m the only son,” he started.

As expected, her expression softened after hearing him.

To many people, a nerd-looking college guy applying for a part-time masseur job would automatically seem suspicious, like a virgin with no experience around girls, looking for the wrong kind of attention.

But Tristan’s calm claim that he grew up with six women changed that impression. It immediately removed him from that category.

Living in a house full of women meant he must have experienced plenty of awkward situations and was used to talking to girls. As a masseur, that suggested he could handle clients well.

“Although his face isn’t bad, his body doesn’t match what a masseur should look like. He looks more like a nerd,” she thought.

In truth, his body was thin and plain, no sexy abs, no built muscles. How's he going to attract female clients? Kayla knew quite well most of them came for the masseurs. 

Tristan guessed through her thoughts, so he decided to take the lead.

“My lineage is linked with a long line of masseurs who served the English royal family for two centuries,” he said. “It's been my dream right from childhood.” 

Kayla looked at him skeptically, clearly trying not to laugh. But seeing how serious he looked, she paused and considered it again.

“Historical lineage, you say? Then why are you here instead of a five-star spa centre?” she asked.

Tristan finally felt relieved and gave a small smile. It seemed like he might actually get the job.

“Exactly. I’m here to refine my skills, not just to be employed. If you allow me to partner with you, my service today will be free, and I’ll take 10% from every client I handle,” he said.

Tristan spoke with so much confidence that  Kayla was left speechless. Her eyes turned doubtful as she looked at him again.

“Is this a joke or some kind of prank?” she thought.

Seeing her doubt, Tristan quickly used the moment.

“I know you’re not sure, so I suggest you try my service first and decide after. And if I turn out to be a fraud, you can do whatever you want with me. My family doesn’t even know I’m here,” he said.

Tristan spoke firmly and said he would leave immediately if she wasn’t willing to take the risk of trusting him.

“Goshhh. I thought he's a nerd. How is he so confident?” Kayla bit her lips, staring at him with seductive eyes. 

A moment of few seconds extended before them, then her voice turned up, sweet and seductive. 

“You can call me Kayla.” Tristan cocked his head, his eyes spreading wider like what he never expected. Kayla chuckled, quickly pulling her palm over her lips. 

A minute later, she pulled up with the same serious face she had from before. 

“Follow me,” she said. She stood up from her chair. Tristan followed, heart thumping.

“What's up?” His curiosity went high but Kayla said nothing. 

She led Tristan toward the corner door.