A Footrub Sweet Girl

A FOOTRUB

"Our generation don't have anything to look forward to."

Kim sighed, her shoulders slumped forward, blonde head tilted, gazing at the floor.

We'd drunk how many beers that night. She'd bought Kilkenneys and I'd exclaimed 'You wonderful woman' and gave her a kiss on the cheek and she had laughed. Now the mood was sombre, the night long, the TV a soporific bore.

My heart was aching with loneliness and insecurity. I desperately wanted to kiss her, to fuck her, to be accepted by her, for her very essence to testify in thunderous waves my worthiness, my lovableness, my desirability. I needed her tonight, that was all that mattered, and her sadness bounced off me as if I was in a diving bell, impregnable.

At that moment in time, that chance for love, like a silver sword upon vibrant sparks a future self came slicing through my aroused introspection.

Forget your worries,

it said to me,

show some love to this beautiful soul.

My bleary heart could barely stand to see myself standing there, beaming a great smile of stars.

You want to be loved? Then share some love my dear friend. Don't worry, you can do it.

I looked to her, drunk and dejected on the sofa beside me. When I looked back to my future self he had gone, but a little star had remained in my chest, unseen.

"Kim?" I said, my voice breaking. She didn't turn to look.

"It's okay. We're all going to be okay."

She sighed again.

"How do you know that?"

I opened my mouth but faltered. How

did

I know it was going to be okay? I was silent.

She looked at me now, saw something in my face.

"I'm sorry. I'm in a shit mood."

"It's okay. Really it is. I feel like shit too." Something made me not look away.

Things unknown were breaking in my chest and my eyes began to sting. I didn't know what was happening but I knew this: I cared for Kim and I wanted her to be happy.

"Yeah why? You've got everything to live for." She smiled wryly.

"Me? Are you kidding? I'm a fuckin mess Kim." She smiled and looked down.

No! I don't want this to be about me. Cheer her up mate – say something!

"What pisses you off the most?"

"Everything. I hate everything. My job. My bullshit life. I'm a fucking nobody."

"You have friends Kim. I like you. Your mum loves you. You have a great sense of humour. You're kind."

She laughs at me, it's a sudden and sharp burst of ridicule. She stops it as quickly as she started and again she looks down.

She knows that hurt me. She's probably feeling worse now.

I know that I'm speaking shit, it's not working. How can I show her I care? It's like I'm trying to play the piano with a club. Fuck!

"Do you like footrubs?" I say.

"What?"

"C'mon, sit back and give me your feet. It will relax you."

She grins, eyes downcast, typical Kim. Like she's laughing at something I'll never know.

"Okay, if you want."

And she moves to the edge of the sofa, up against a cushion, turning around and putting her legs up, her feet on my lap. My god she has such wonderful legs, sleeved in those black pants. My heart is pounding as I feel the weight of her delicate feet. My hands are sweaty and I wipe them on my jeans.

I start by giving them a gentle rub, moving my hands lighting over her skin. She laughs.

"That tickles!"

I smile.

Shit try something else – and not too hard!

I hold the foot closest to me, fingers underneath, thumbs on top, just below her toes. I start to move the thumbs in slow circles over her skin, silky and cool beneath my hands.

"Mmmm, that's nice."

It's amazing how something you never see can be so incredibly beautiful, hidden in shoes all day, pushed and squished about, hot and sweaty. I marvel at her lovely feet, marble skin, toenails painted pale pink.

In silence I continue, working in strokes up from her toes to the top where it meets the ankle. I look at her as I massage, her eyes are closed. She looks at peace. My excitement begins to calm.

I stop at her ankles and feel the bony knobs, moving around them, rubbing over them, kneading the flesh either side of her achilles. I listen for her breathing, watch as her breasts rise and fall, while my own breath feels non-existent, as if I am in a crystal bubble, unmoved by time, I could be watching from the stars above, peering down at an angel below. And the tiny star within me flickers and grows. I can't but help it as a smile opens my lips.

"Would you like the other foot done?"

"Mmm hmm, yes please."

"I told you this would be relaxing." I'm grinning ear to ear.

"It's great, keep going."

I gently pat her foot and reach for the other, trying to remember how I had started. Yes, beneath the toes first. I get lost in the circles, the feeling of skin on skin, the incredible joy of touching another human being, a living, sentient, intelligent, curious, wonderful being like me. How many steps had she taken in these feet, where had they taken her? How many times had they carried her in a playful sprint, spun her about in a joyful dance? How many steps had they taken as she plodded to work, depressed, and how did they flop down as she sobbed her tears. Did they twist when she concentrated, stamp when she raged? These beautiful feet are part of her life, closer to her than I ever can be. If I can love just this part of her, the flesh she tramples on every day, my god how much more is hidden beneath those downcast eyes and smirking grin?

For a long time I keep massaging, once or twice I almost nod off. Then I come to my senses and move to the next part of the foot. I yawn. Those beers are working their magic!

I look over at her again. She is asleep, her face relaxed, uncaring, free of the pain she had carried earlier.

For a while I just sit there, my hands at rest upon her feet. She is so beautiful. My god she is so beautiful. I look at her legs and for a moment I dream of burying my face between them, breathing in her warm feminine scent. A faint prickle teases my groin.

I smile again.

Time to be off my dear friend.

I slowly get up, careful not to wake her. I enter her darkened bedroom, find a blanket, bring it back and gently lay it on her. She looks comfortable sleeping on the sofa's cushion. I give her a kiss on the top of her head, my lips ever so gently touching her blonde tresses. She smells of alcohol.

Good night sweet girl.

I turn off the lounge room light, leave on the corridor one in case she needs to get up for a pee later on – we have drunk a LOT of beer tonight. Come to think of it I need to go too. After I finish pissing in the toilet, shaking my cock clean, I close the lid and flush. It's quieter that way.

I lock the front door and pull it close behind me, test it to make sure it's locked. Outside the night air is brisk and I am immediately alert. It's a long walk home and what more wonders may play upon my heart tonight?

Above me the stars shine bright.