As it appears to go with Internet dating, I met up with a couple of ladies over the last month but there wasn't really any spark and so, after an awkward hour or so of small talk and eating, we went our separate ways. Then I found Christina's profile, she got my attention and we arranged a date. It went very well indeed.
We ate at an Indian and the conversation was easy and fast-flowing. We had a lot of things in common, we laughed at a few of the same things and - as it turned out - we even had a couple of mutual friends. Better, she was very straight talking and that was a real relief - on a lot of dates, you tend to skirt around subjects in case you offend the other person, but Christina wasn't like that at all - she said it how she saw it and she was quite open about sex (which is always nice). As the evening wore on, I found myself liking Christina even more and it wasn't hard too. She was a great looking lady, medium height and slim, with small-ish boobs and dark hair. More than all of that, she was bloody gorgeous - genuinely bloody gorgeous. Beautiful, even. For the date, she was wearing a simple, knee length dress and heels and I kept telling her how great she looked, though I don't think she believed me all that much.
The meal ate, conversations pursued, I took her home at around eleven. We pulled up outside her house, a neat two-bedroom new build near Duston and I expected perhaps a little goodnight kiss and I'd be on my way.
"Did you want to come in for coffee?" she asked, as I switched off the engine.
"That'd be lovely."
"Just to make it clear though, I meant what I said before - I never shag on a first date." Her honesty made me smile. "What's up, did I say something funny?"
"No," I said, "it's just nice that it's all cleared up now, so things don't get awkward later."
"Absolutely, Jack," she said and patted my thigh, "that's exactly why I do it!"
I followed her into the house, admiring the way her bum moved, admiring her legs, just watching her really. She was really sexy and I was hoping that tonight would be good enough that we'd see each other again.
Her house was minimalistic but comfortable - "my own place, finally", she'd said in the restaurant, "the best thing I got out of the divorce" - and she showed me into the lounge. There were two sofa's, a big TV, a stereo and a coffee table. Several pictures dotted the walls but she didn't tell me who they were of and I didn't ask.
"Sit down, put some music on, make yourself at home. I'll go and put the kettle on if you want, or would you prefer something else? I might have some wine."
"A beer would be good," I said, "if you have one."
She left me to it and I checked out her CD collection. There was a good mix, from early 70s soul and funk right up to Ellie Goulding. I chose an 80s soul compilation, figured out how to work the stereo and put it on. By the time I'd finished, Christina came back into the room, my bottle in her left hand, a large glass of wine in her right. She smiled, handed me the beer and sat on the sofa.
"Sit next to me," she said and patted the cushion, "I won't bite."
I sat down, leaned back and took a swig of my beer.
"Good choice of music," she said.
"Can't go wrong with it, can you?"
"No." She looked at me, as if trying to decide about saying something.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just... It's stupid, but could I ask you a question, that's a bit weird?"
"Of course you can."
She smiled. "Nothing ventured," she said and turned to face me, "I just wondered how you felt about feet."
I smiled - this date couldn't get any better, I loved feet! "I don't have a problem with them," I said, "why?" Please want a massage, I thought, please want a massage.
"Well, it's stupid, but I've been on my feet all day and they're killing me. I wore my heels tonight, so I'd look nice, but all they've done is make them ache more. I showered before the date, so they're clean, but if you'd be willing to give them a quick massage, I'd be really grateful."
"I'd love to," I said, leaping at the chance.
"Ah, thanks." Christina moved around in the seat, kicked off her shoes and put her legs up on the sofa so that her toes were against my left thigh. She settled herself against the arm, her wine glass resting on her chest and smiled at me. "How did you want me?"
My cock twitched lightly. I knew she'd said there'd be no shagging, but I liked the way this was going, I liked her smile.
"Stay there," I said, "and lift up whichever foot you want doing first."
Christina lifted her right foot up and I held it by the back of her heel, lowering it onto my leg. I looked at her and she smiled again, then looked at her foot. It was delicate and perfectly sized, with petite toes that it seemed would be a shame not to stroke and hold and kiss. I cupped both hands around her foot and started to rub them up and down, running my fingers along her sole.
"Oh, that's nice," she said and my cock reacted again. Her foot could only have been an inch away from my groin, I could feel the pull of my chinos as I moved it.
"I'm not an expert at this," I said, "tell me if you don't like something."
"Jack, for doing this, I'll let you off a lot."
With my thumbs, I massaged the top of her foot, running my fingers along her soles. I alternated, between fingertips and nails. The nails got the slightest reaction, a gentle murmur and so I kept at it. My cock was getting harder by the second and I looked over to see if she'd either noticed or was offended. Neither - her eyes were closed and, as I watched, she licked her lips.