I didn't get breakfast after all. Excitement coursed through me, the feeling so urgent that all thoughts of food escaped. I hungered, yes, but not for mere provender. I craved nutrition of a different sort. I needed food for my soul.
Walking around that mall with Andrew buoyed my flagging spirits. I pointed, and he translated. Slowly but surely, my minuscule Spanish vocabulary grew. Learning Spanish didn't interest me. But learning some rudimentary Spanish gave me the perfect excuse to interact with him. He seemed genuinely pleased at my attempts to learn something. That pleasure changed to amusement when he noticed that most of my vocabulary questions ran to clothing, shoes and accessories. I obviously had certain things on my mind.
He happily indulged me.
Eight o'clock found us outside Beautiful You, a trendy looking little beauty parlor and spa. The five attendants wore uniforms of emerald and amber, rich, elegant colors for beautiful women. They weren't related, but they strongly resembled one another. Each had long, blonde streaked black hair tied into a braid, black eyes and beautifully hued tanned skin. Andrew had been right. I now desired sun like never before. Seeing these Venezuelan Goddesses made me loathe my fishbelly-pallid skin tone.
"What was that?" I said, only now aware that one of the ladies had spoken to me. The attendant smiled, her perfect white teeth illuminating her face. I felt the first stirring of envy.
"She needs a total make over, ladies," Andrew said, hustling me into the nearest chair. The third woman, Sondra according to her name tag, beamed as if she'd just won the lottery. No need to guess whose station I'd been pushed into. "I want her totally redone. Start with her head," he said, brushing gentle fingers against my cheek, "and work your way down. See her oily skin and clogged pores? Fix them." His face left no room for doubt. He meant business.
He slid his fingers down my neck then over my breasts, playing with my stiffening nipples through my top. My breathing grew rapid in response. The attendants, if they thought anything amiss, kept it to themselves.
"New makeup. New nails. A full manicure and pedicure. Total body exfoliation. I want Barbara Ann totally fixed up before she leaves this place." His hands moved to match his words, gliding over my arms, my breasts, down my legs to my calves. Soon they came to rest on my slim ankles. There they remained. "Pay special attention to those feet," he commanded. "They're particularly unattractive, and need a lot of work to make them right." Andrew plucked at my laces then pulled off my runners. He passed them to the nearest attendant. She held onto them by the laces, the runners dangling far away from her body as if they dripped poison. "Look here. See what I mean?" Andrew said, prodding my foot with the tip of the plastic stylus he'd used earlier.
I shriveled in my skin as he pointed out all of the unsightly calluses on the balls of my feet and the scaly flecks of skin on my heels. The tough, rough patches on the outer edges of my feet weren't spared either. He seemed hell-bent to highlight all of my imperfections to these strangers. He ran the stylus tip over the insides of my high arched feet, tickling me. I didn't dare pull my feet away from him, though. I somehow knew that this would anger him.
"Her toes are nice and straight, and have no flaky skin between them. The cuticles have been kept clean, too. She's done fairly well for herself. I want you three ladies to perfect what you find. Do you understand?"
"We understand," Sondra said, assuming the role of spokesperson for the group. "We shall see to it." Sondra scraped a long fingernail against the dry arch of my foot. "We will not spare the moisturizer."
"A greaseless formulation, mind. Got it?" He rubbed his hand over my breasts. My nipples poked against his palm as it passed over them. Why did he do this to me? Why didn't they say anything? Then again, why didn't I say anything, either? I suffered his inappropriate touches in silence. "Remember her pores," he said. “No heavy oils.” Sondra nodded again. "How much time do you ladies need?" Andrew asked.
"Three, perhaps four hours."
"That long? Then I suggest you ladies get started," he said. He slid his hand over me, down into my shorts and dove straight into my pussy, basting his fingers with my juices. Believe me, I had moisture a-plenty down there for him to find. Him talking about me as if I wasn't even in the room excited me terribly. I don't know why. Being his pet project, his thing to sculpt and improve made my pussy drip. When he extricated his hand, rubbed the moisture between his fingers and then licked his fingers clean I almost exploded. "I'll see you all at noon, then," he said. Then he left. All of the women joined me in staring at his retreating back.
"He's very forceful," Sondra whispered to me as she gazed after him. "Your lover, yes?"
"My husband," I lied, flashing Dave's wedding ring at her.
Sondra smiled at me. "I no believe," she said. "Women no look at husbands that way."
"What way?"
"Looking like she takes him any way she gets him. A wife possesses. A mistress desires. True, or no true?" Sondra's smirk softened. She almost looked pitying. The look burned my ass. "Enough talk. Time to make you beautiful." Sondra said something to the other women. They immediately descended, barracuda-style, upon me. I only paid them half a mind as they went about their business.
It still amazed me that a man in Andrew's position would take so much time examining something as trifling as a woman's feet. Moreover, it amazed me he took so much pleasure in doing so. I've never thought of that part of my body as being sexy, but I'd certainly do so now! Whatever part of me tantalized him would definitely be a part of me I'd treasure from this point onwards. Even if he hadn't said so, I would've insisted on a soak and pedicure after his actions in the mall. If he loved to see my feet so much, I'd learn to love them as well. An angler needed a baited hook to catch the big fish. I could think of none bigger than Andrew Grissolm.
§§§
Time has always been my great enemy. Either I had too much of it, or not enough. Today, for once, it didn't concern me. Nothing concerned me outside of the swirling water currents that tickled my supersensitive skin. I sat in a marble whirlpool tub enjoying how the tiny bubbles made my recently scrubbed, pink skin effervesce. My body had never felt this sensitive before, this alive. If felt like my skin could feel a glance.
These people really knew how to work someone over. My exfoliation had done more than remove dead, flaky skin. It had scoured away years of worry, neglect and angst. Not only did I have an all over body blush from the intense scrubbing, but my entire mood had been lifted. The removal of the dead skin had eradicated a ton of leaden grief from my spirit. My face, though sweltering and relaxed, maintained its frozen, perpetual smile.
I sank down lower into the water, enjoying the way the jets tickled the crevice between my legs. They wrapped my body in a tangle of liquid tendrils that felt very much like the insinuating fingers of my boyfriend. I giggled at that. Andrew Grissolm: Boyfriend. No, not quite. I wondered what to consider him. How did I define our relationship?
And why had I thought of his touch first and not my husband's?
Quiet footfalls alerted me to the presence of another. Sondra approached, telling me that she would be back for me when it was time to dry off and get dressed. I sighed. Nothing good lasted forever. I remained in the bubbly water for ten more minutes before finally deciding to get up and leave. Delaying would only make things harder. I stood up in the pool of water, preparing to exit.
Andrew stood before me, face looking very amused. "Hello," he said.
I died, was cremated, then sprang forth from the steaming ashes in one embarrassing, terrifying moment. I had dreamed of the day when I'd stand before Andrew, naked and ready for him to take me. It had been a nighttime fantasy, just a dream, but had been a very romantic seduction on his part. Pleading and cajoling, he'd finally convinced me to slip out of my clothing and to present myself to him for his pleasure. In my dreams he'd begged for the honor of finally taking me, of making me his woman. Instead, I now stood on display for him like a piece of meat at the market. Standing there, freshly cleansed, I now felt soiled.
I wanted to die.
My brain had seized up, but my body knew what to do. An arm snaked over my breasts, concealing my hardening nipples while the other one hid my pussy from him. Then I sank into the bubbling whirlpool to hide. I had considered my skin red earlier. I hadn't known how crimson flesh could turn. My entire body looked as scarlet as a vine ripened tomato.
"How did your treatments go?" Andrew folded a thick, fluffy towel into a pad and laid it upon the edge of the tub. He then sat down upon it, balancing upon the narrow edge of the tub. His warm, expressive eyes bored into me. My mouth worked soundlessly.
"Barbara Ann?"
"Oh! Very well. The women took great care of me," I said, still in shock.
"Is that so? What did they do?"
Andrew interrogated me for a good quarter of an hour, making me stay submerged to the breasts the entire time. My body felt lobster-steamed, my skin redder than a parboiled carapace. The water had once felt dreamily, pleasantly warm. Now it felt nightmarishly hot, a hellish stew pot of torturous temperature. Andrew sat, totally oblivious to my plight. He engaged me in a light bout of trivial conversation while I felt near to passing out. Eventually, he simply stopped talking and sat there, staring at the tops of my tits as if his gaze could make the film of water on them evaporate into a puff of superheated steam.
