A Tired Dad Needs His Daughter's Massage
My daughter was still a minor, and she had always been rather unfussy about her looks. She never wore makeup, and she favored clothes that hid her figure. On top of that, she wore a pair of oversized horn-rimmed glasses whenever she went to school.
It wasn't as though her eyesight was so poor it interfered with daily life. She only needed them because the writing on the blackboard looked a little blurry from the back of the classroom.
Of course, the lack of makeup did nothing to hide her beauty.
Her eyes were single-lidded, but the upper lash line ran dark and defined, and they were large enough that nearly eighty percent of the iris showed. Her lashes were just long enough, with a slight natural lift. There was no need to glue on false ones.
The feature of my own face I've always been proudest of is my eyebrows. They aren't the wild, caterpillar kind that sprout in every direction, nor are they pale and sparse. They grow in a single, even sweep — neat and dark, as if they'd been combed into place with pomade. My daughter's eyebrows were exactly the same. She had no need to pencil them in.
That was why I put off the paternity test until the very end. Our eyebrows were simply too identical.
One of the most important features of a face is the nose. Too big is no good; too small is no good either. A bridge that's too crooked is unappealing, and one that's too ramrod-straight isn't much better. My daughter's nose was just right — neither too high nor too low, and without a hint of a bend.
Ah, right. And then there's something even more important. The lower face, and the mouth.
During the COVID years, the word mask-scammer caught on. People who looked like beauties and handsome men with a mask on, only to turn into homely disappointments the moment they took it off. One of the reasons for that is the jaw and the mouth. A mask covers both. Ugly eyes are rare, and the mask line itself cinches the jaw into a cleaner shape. That's how so many "mask beauties" and "mask hunks" came into being. But the instant the mask comes off, the original jaw and chin are laid bare. Disappointment is inevitable — the contrast with the mask-corrected face is simply too stark.
My daughter's mouth is small. That doesn't mean her lips are thin, though. They're glossy, with a plump fullness to them.
Most people never manage a truly beautiful lower face. If your jawline is even decent, people tell you you ought to be a celebrity. That's how much it matters in judging a face. Why else would anyone undergo double-jaw surgery — a procedure you could die from? Even if the eyes, nose, and mouth are all fine, a crooked jawline renders everything else pointless.
My daughter's chin is practically celebrity-grade. A plastic-surgeon friend of mine could barely tell the difference. A sharp, elegant jawline. Looking at the lower half of her face alone, you could almost mistake her for one of those A-list actresses currently dominating the industry.
The moment my daughter starts wearing makeup and dressing properly, people are going to swarm her like mad.
People are sordid creatures. They envy anyone more impressive than themselves, yet they still try to get close. Do you know why? Because standing next to someone outstanding means you can extract some benefit of your own. And the moment a gap appears, you can strike and send them tumbling into the abyss.
Men, in particular, have another trait on top of that. Lust. Animals are hardwired with a reproductive instinct to mate with those who carry superior genes. That's why men try to make a beautiful woman their girlfriend... their wife. The driving force is sexual desire, and for a woman, that is the most dangerous thing of all.
It's because of lust that men throw out promises they have no intention of keeping. I'll take care of you for the rest of my life. You're the only one. I'll never let you lift a finger. And so on. I've seen plenty of people fall for that and ruin their lives.
If you know how to use people like that, you can profit from them. But more often than not, the losses outweigh the gains. Spend enough time among rotten people and you end up getting burned. Just look at celebrities. They seem to be thriving, but plenty of them meet the wrong crowd, get scammed, and end up broke. Or they become rotten people themselves.
My ex-wife was exactly that case. I didn't know her from childhood, so I can't say for certain, but I believe she was still innocent when she was young. The unfortunate result of watching and learning from the bad people around her.
Some would say the person who fell for the temptation is the one at fault. I don't think so. Environment matters. If the environment isn't right, a person's choices won't be right either. People are weak to temptation.
I thought about this a great deal while raising my daughter. Because she was so outstanding, the odds of her being exposed to those temptations seemed high. I hoped she would make wise choices. But I didn't want to stand in the way of what she wanted. I didn't want to force her down the "right" path. I wanted her to experience everything and judge for herself. Even if she walked the wrong road, I figured a father — a proper guide — could always course-correct her.
But my daughter was smarter than I gave her credit for. I never said a word, and she still knew exactly what I was thinking.
The teenage years. Such a beautiful time. A girl who should have wanted to flaunt her beauty instead suppressed her own desires. All to satisfy me, her father.
When she entered her second year of high school, she hid herself even more. She cut her hair short and put on those oversized horn-rimmed glasses that covered nearly half her face. She always wore clothes one or two sizes too big. Under her school skirt, she practically lived in gym shorts.
Was that why? Throughout all of high school, there was never a single fuss involving friends. Especially not involving boys. The only exception was once, in her first year, when I saw her slap a boy who came on too strong.
I'd thought that was just her nature... that she was simply the unfussy type. But that wasn't the truth. She had sacrificed her own desires to satisfy me.
I understood that heart. That's why I told her she didn't have to match herself to me anymore.
"Dad... how do I look? Am I pretty?"
But... this... how was I supposed to take this?
My daughter was wearing a slip.
A black silk one-piece slip, with white lace trimming both hems, making it look all the more lavish. It was a spaghetti-strap design, leaving her shoulders and upper back completely exposed, and the neckline plunged deep enough that her cleavage was on full display. Judging by the hem — sitting maybe an inch above the knee — this wasn't the kind of sexy slip a couple would wear to bed. But on my daughter, it was different. It was far too sexy.
I couldn't get angry here. If I did, she would be disappointed. This girl had spent her entire school life suppressing the desire to dress up, all for my sake. Now it was my turn. I had to crush the instinctive desire surging through my body.
I quietly pinched the back of my thigh. Pain dulls instinct.
My ex-wife. No — this was beyond my ex-wife. I really shouldn't be thinking this... but she was too perfect.
Honestly, I don't have that much of a sex drive. I'm not like most men, who throw themselves at anything pretty. After I split from my wife, there were plenty of places I could have gone if I'd wanted a woman in my arms. I never did. The women in those places sell their smiles and their bodies for money. There's no substance. A smile with no substance. Touch with no substance. Sex with no substance. All of it was useless to me. I couldn't even get it up.
I learned that for certain at a hostess bar my friends dragged me to after the divorce, claiming they wanted to comfort me. No matter how pretty the girls who came over were, if there was no emotional connection, my body simply didn't respond.
So... why? Why was my body reacting to my daughter's?
She's my daughter. The masterpiece I've poured everything into raising from the day she was born until now. And all she's done is put on a piece of clothing that isn't even that revealing — and my body has started to respond.
This shouldn't be happening... so why?
Haha. I must be losing my mind. A father lusting after his own daughter. I don't deserve to be called a dad.
A crushing wave of self-loathing washed over me as I pinched my own thigh.
"Dad.... why aren't you saying anything? Does it not suit me? You don't like it? Should I go change into something else?"
Part of me wanted to tell her to go change right this second. But that face. Her face was growing darker by the second — because she was looking at me, standing there sweating buckets, unable to get a single word out.
I'd made a decision after seeing her tears earlier. I would never make my daughter cry again. And to keep that promise... I had to accept this too.
"No, no! It suits you perfectly! I didn't even know my daughter was this beautiful. That's why I couldn't speak."
At my praise, she smiled with a purity that was almost girlish.
"Hearing you say that, Dad... I'm happy."
"Sorry, but could you bring me a cup of herbal tea? If I drink it before bed, I sleep well."
"Okay, Dad. Just wait a second."
Click. The door closed behind her as she left. And I let out a long sigh and started pinching my thigh again, harder than before.
I drank the herbal tea Min-ah brought me. By the time she returned with it, the utterly panicked version of myself from earlier had calmed down considerably. That was the result of pinching my thigh like a madman.
Unaware of the effort I'd put in, my daughter handed her father the herbal tea with an innocent smile. We made small talk about this and that, and before long I started to get sleepy.
"I'm getting... a little drowsy."
"You must be exhausted, Dad. Hospital work, then the amusement park on top of that... you really went through a lot."
"Don't call it hardship. Thanks to you, I had a great time. And... I also figured out what I'd been doing wrong."
"Don't say that. If anything, I'm the one who's more grateful."
Min-ah slipped her arm through mine.
"Dad, lie down on the bed."
"Huh... why?"
"Don't you remember the bet we made while eating slushies? You won."
Ah, that's right. The bet. I had won. What was the prize again?
"Since you won, I'll give you that massage I promised. This is exactly the moment you need one!!"
......
Another crisis was approaching.