"Honey?" Gina Clark shouted up the stairs to her husband.
"Yeah?" Greg responded from his comfortable position lying on their bed half-watching the Thursday night football season opener. They had just gotten the kids down a little while ago and he was looking forward to a slow NFL Network-induced slide towards sleep.
She waited to respond until she was standing in the doorway of their dim bedroom.
"Oh...you look so relaxed already...I feel bad," she started hesitantly.
He propped his head up with his hand to make eye contact and assured her, "No, no. it's fine. What's up?"
"Mal just called. She and her roommate are having a hard time setting up their TV and stuff. She was wondering if you could help them out. But I'll just call her back and let her know you are ready to quit for the night.
"That's okay," he countered, sitting up, "I can go. I'm pretty sure she could demand a lot more money from us than she does so it's the least we can do?"
"Are you sure? I bet it can wait."
"Nah, I'll just get it out of the way."
"Ok...well, do you mind if I go to bed without you? I'm pretty tired."
"Go for it," he said, granting her request.
He gave her a quick peck as he skittered past her and through the door into the hall. "There's no telling how long these things can take anyway. I could be home in less than an hour if I'm lucky...hours from now if I am not."
"Good luck. Don't stay too long. You need your sleep too."
"I promise if it looks too complicated, I'll tell her it'll have to wait."
Fifteen minutes later, Greg was knocking on the door to Apartment 4W. Mallory answered moments later.
"Hey, Doc," she said, her voice all sweetness and light. She stood in the doorway looked rosy cheek and scrubbed clean, like she had just gotten out of the shower. Her hair was bound up by an elastic in a loose, simple ponytail. His eyes trailed down her body, taking her in. She wore an old concert t-shirt, clearly washed within an inch of its natural life. If he had to guess it probably fit her when she was 12, before her growth spurt kicked in. Now, it terminated just above her navel when she stood naturally and clung to every inch of her upper body. Her nipples poked out slightly, but noticeably and left him imagining that she had foregone a bra.
"Come on in," she bid, turning to lead him down the foyer hallway into the apartment proper. As she walked he took note of her ass and legs in the skinny jeans she wore. The denim hugged and showcased her in a way that was undeniably appealing.
She spun back to him when they reached the living room and his eyes completed their journey with her bare feet and her toenails freshly painted a deep red color.
"Chick Flick Cherry," she said.
"Sorry," he replied, eyes confusingly returning to hers.
"It's the name of my toenail polish. I just saw you admiring it."
"Ah. Right. Yes...it's...well, I like it quite a bit."
"Mmm...I know how you do."
"So, my wife said you needed help?"
"That I do," she agreed, a sexy, teasing tone creeping into her voice.
"Ok, well, what do you want me to start with?"
She stepped into his personal space and rose up on the tips of her toes, laying her arms on his shoulders. "This is always good," she said and kissed him deeply. He happily returned the embrace.
"Mmm," he groaned appreciatively as she pulled away, "That is quite nice. I should get started on your TV stuff though, if I'm ever going to finish it."
She giggled, her blues sparkling with amused delight, "You're cute."
She grabbed his hand and pirouetted her back to him, guiding him to the couch.
"There is no TV problem, silly," she continued, "I was just...feeling needy."
"Oh? Oh!" the doctor caught on, "Well, jeez...this isn't something we should make a habit of...too dangerous."
"More dangerous than the two of sixty-nining each other a literal foot from your sleeping wife?"
"Perhaps not. Anyway, what I was going to say was that we shouldn't make a habit of this but since I am already here, I don't seem the harm in me...helping you out."
She smirked, "So kind of you to make such a generous sacrifice."
Greg leaned over her, lifting her chin with two fingers on his left hand, and kissed her deeply. Realizing this was the first time he had kissed her without hesitation or seduction, she felt herself go lightheaded. She pressed deeper into him to steady herself, letting herself be folded into his arms.
Greg felt the heat of her against him, the way it spread from the points where their bodies met throughout his whole person. Her fingernails danced lightly over the back of his neck, just where it met his head and an uncontrollable shiver of arousal pulsated through, bringing goosebumps in its wake.
Losing track of where they were, the duo stumbled and fell over the arm of the sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Greg bounced and fell onto his back on the floor below, exhaling in a great puff of air. Mallory, still safely lying on the couch, could not help but chortle.
"Oh you think that's funny," he mock demanded.
She only laughed harder in response.
"Come here, let's see how you like being on the floor!" he shouted, reaching for her.
She swatted his hand away and attempted to escape. Greg proved too quick, however, catching a belt loop on her pants in his hand. That was enough, in her state of poor balance, to send her tumbling to the floor as well. He immediately set upon her, poking and needling her ticklish spots until all she could manage were strangled laugh gasps.
"Stop, stop," she begged while gulping air. Greg let up for a moment, smiling broadly at her state. She grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him to her, kissing him roughly, snorting with shortness of breath.
They made out then. Simple, unhurried, but aggressive. They rolled this way and that, neither seeks dominance, only to inspire the other to step up their game. When, at one point Mallory ended up straddling Greg's waist, he liberated her from her shirt and appreciatively ran his hands over her small, newly exposed breasts. Minutes later, the tide turned and the doctor found himself watching his shirt sail off somewhere behind the cedar chest that doubled as a home for mail not yet opened and read.
Soon, Mallory was on her back again and Greg was slowly drifting down her body, seemingly driving to cover any inch of her skin with his touch. He tasted her, licking, nibbling, biting, sucking and that which his mouth could not reach at that moment was caressed, rubbed, press, scratched, tickled, teased by his fingers and hands.
She lay there thrilling at his touch. "Ahh, ooooo, yes, oh, oh, so good," she cooed before imploring, "Can—can I ask you for something?"
"Mmmhmm," he responded without being distracted from his mission.
"S—s—soooo," she stuttered, riding small crests of pleasure as he rolled her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger and darted his tongue in and around her belly button, "you know how we talk—how you said this should be about me realizing some desires too, not just you?"
"Of course," he managed through teeth clenched around her jeans zipper as he slowly dragged it downward, letting her hear each tooth separate, letting her feel the subtle change in temperature as more of her panties were exposed to the air.
"Wellllllllllllllllllllllll, I have a request..." she began, looking hesitant and shy. She felt vulnerable, asking for the focus to be on here. Sure, being with Greg was a culmination of several of her own fantasies, but she never asked for them to be fulfilled, just took them herself. The stated focus was on the Doctor's fantasy, even if they did get her off too.
"Go on," he whispered encouragingly, peeling her skinny jeans down and off her.
"Do you like my cotton panties?" she asked him as he separated her legs and lowered his mouth to the area where her left inner thigh met her pelvis. Her panties were simple, bikini cut, with the words "Do You Love Me?" written in bright blue across a sea foam green background.
"Uh-huh," he assured her, dragging his tongue up that space, careful to avoid even the smallest of contact with her cotton covered sex. She shuddered at the provocation.
"Even though they are just cotton?" she further implored.
"Yup," he confirmed, repeating the process for union between her right inner thigh and pelvis. Again she could not help but register a slight full body shake.
"Don't you think cotton is something...a little girl would wear?" she teased and watched as a flash of lustful anger (or was it angry lust?) flashed across his eyes. He could not help himself when she played the "But I'm so young, am I being naughty?" card with him.
Instead of rising to the bait this time though, he recognized she was retreating to safe territory. He lifted her right leg straight in the air and began to kiss, lick, and nibble it from the back of her thigh moving upward to the back of her knee. She marveled at how good it felt and let her head swim with the odd stimulation until he called her back to Earth with a blunt, "So I believe you had a request?"
"Yes. Ok. Don't laugh," she paused and he just moved to her left leg without breaking eye contact, "Well, ok. So...you remember the first time..."
Sensing her trailing off, he prodded, "In the shower?"
"I mean, the first time we fucked."
"Of course I remember. You were wearing that tiny pair of white underwear and the strapless bra. You called me depraved."
She smirked and clicked her tongue against her cheek. "Yeah. And you loved it."
"I'll allow the premise. So about the first time?"
"At one point, you...like, you sucked my toes, licked my feet...that sort of thing."
"I recall."
"That's the first time I'd ever had that. And...I don't know...I really want to try it again. I'm not like...I don't know a fetishist about my feet or anything, I just...it just, well, I guess I—" she muddled around before Greg cut her off with a deep kiss.
Separating for air, he looked her deep in the eyes, and spoke, "Of course I will. You don't need to make excuses. Just lie back, watch if you want, and enjoy."
He then proceeded to kiss his way back down her body, this time continuing right on to Mallory's feet. She felt...anxious. Like first day of school anxious. Butterfly in the stomach, practically vibrating from anticipation. She did not know until she finally asked for just how much she had wanted this.
