Ashley worked in a bar on the high street. I guess you could have called the place a shithole, but there was something endearing about the place. Maybe it was because the drinks were so cheap, or maybe it was because Ashley and her friends were there to serve you almost every night. It certainly wasn't because of the decor or the clientele, who consisted mainly of cokeheads and football fanatics.
I'd known Ashley for years. Why tonight though, of all nights, had we finally decided to have more than a conversation that consisted of small talk, I couldn't tell you. I can't say I'd ever paid her that much attention myself. I'd always found her attractive, but had never felt any indication that she was at all interested in me.
I'm doing Ashley a disservice, however. She'd been working at this shithole bar for as long as I could remember. She was pretty quiet, but could hold her own against the tide of customers, often deflecting their clumsy passes or inappropriate comments with ease. She always had a cheeky expression, or a glint in her eye, that gave off the impression that she was in on a joke that everyone else was not privy to. She always seemed amused by her surroundings, but almost because she possessed some sort of higher understand of them, or maybe she just had thicker skin than I gave her credit for.
I don't know why I did it, but tonight, as our eyes locked during my drinks order, I ordered two, one for me and one for her. It was a double Jack and Coke, not something I was particularly fussed on but it seemed like the right choice to make at the time.
I told her it looked like she had been having a tough night, which brought a smile, and a small response from her that I failed to catch over the thumping music. I thought no more about it and I said my goodbyes, although when I returned to my group of friends, I was pleased to see that she had popped a small straw into the drink and was giving it a little sip during the lull in serving customers.
By around 1am, most of the punters had faded away into the night, including most of my friends. The bar officially closed at midnight, but regulars were allowed to stay after hours as long as the drinks kept getting bought. The guy who ran the bar often showed up at the end of the night, and stayed well into the early hours talking to his customers, and pouring the drinks. The girls behind the bar clocked off one by one as the tide stemmed, and most would stay behind for a few drinks themselves.
At was at this point that Ashley took a spare seat beside me and thanked me for the earlier drink. "I needed that", she laughed.
Handing me another Jack and Coke - which she had obtained gratis, of course - we caught up.
I guess you're busting to read what Ashley looks like. I've been a bit sparse on these details so far, admittedly. She was a short, slim brunette, with dead straight black hair that fell down her back. She had sparkling eyes that always betrayed some glint of mischief, with narrow cheek bones and a large thin nose, which if anything suited her well. She must have been in her mid to late twenties, but she was one of those girls that never looked a day over 21.
She wore an off-white body-hugging t-shirt and low waisted skinny jeans of a washed out blue, which showed off the subtle shape of her hips, a nice feature on a girl as slim as her. She kept things simple, though, with a little makeup and a plain silver bracelet clasped around her right wrist. Along with the simple black pumps on her feet, which she wore without socks, this was Ashley from head to toe.
Anyway, one drink led to another and then to another, as we chatted endlessly about all sorts of shit. I'll spare you the boring details, but once she'd bummed a ciggie off one of her mates and disappeared outside for five minutes, I began to think to myself - is this going where I think it's going? I figured I'd best go easy on any more whiskies just in case.
She came back inside, finished her drink and asked me what my plans were in regards to getting home, as it was 3am after all. It was difficult to contain a smile when I replied - possibly with absolutely zero conviction whatsoever - asking if she knew which taxi firms were still running at this hour.
"You can crash on my couch, if you like," she offered, "I only live 5 minutes away."
I made the usual gesticulations: "no, don't be daft!", or "nah, don't worry, I don't want be a pain.", but she waved them away.
As if it were our cue to leave, a fat bloke in a Manchester United top dropped a whole tray of jäger bombs onto the floor, sending the sickly liquid everywhere and the tray clattering madly on the tiles, to much raucous applause.
She grabbed my arm. "Come on," she said, "let's go, before my boss makes me clean all that up."
Like that we were out in the street. Ashley had another cigarette. She told me that she didn't usually smoke, but would have one or two with a drink now and then.
Her flat was less than the five minutes away that was promised, which was great because it was fucking freezing outside. She lived above a Turkish barbers, on the second floor, in a simple apartment that she shared with one of her friends. I asked whether her friend was home as she fumbled with the key in the lock, but she told me that her flatmate worked nights as a nurse in the local hospital, so wouldn't be home until after 6am.
For two single people who constantly worked until late (or is that early?), the flat was in decent shape. Ashley turned the heating on using a dial on the wall and threw her keys and phone down onto an Ikea coffee table.
"Have a seat," she said, pointing to a beaten up dark brown leather sofa. She smiled softly and offered me a drink, but I opted for a water.
I almost lost myself in the leather sofa. It had seen years of use, and the seat almost hoovered me up. I kicked off my shoes and shouldered out of my jacket, when Ashley returned with a glass of water for me and a cup of tea for herself. Neither of us touched the drinks.
She sighed heavily and laid down on the sofa.
"I'll chill by here for a bit, then I'll leave you to it," she informed me.
"You crack on, its your house," I replied, and before I knew it, she'd slung herself fully onto the sofa, and had propped her feet up on my lap. I noticed the little black bows on the slim ballet pumps.
"Don't mind me, I'm just being lazy," she said, using her right foot to peel off the other shoe at the heel. It fell to the floor with a clatter. "Half the time, I lie down here and I don't even make it to my bed."
I bet you don't, I though darkly, wondering how many guys had been on this sofa before me.
"Would you?" She asked, rotating her right foot around at the ankle.
My breath caught in my throat, and I reached out for her remaining shoe as casually as possible. I took a hold of her tiny ankle with one hand, and gripped the shoe at the heel with the other, pulling it away and tossing it on the floor with the other.
Both of her tiny feet lay comfortably in my lap. They couldn't have been much bigger than a size 4 - a 5 at a push. She had tiny little arches, and her toenails were unpainted, trimmed neatly and uniform.
Then it hit me. The smell. Not an unpleasant odour, but a faint whiff from where the poor dainty things had been stuffed inside those pumps all day. There was a primal sweetness to it that sent my heart racing; a delicate, yet earthy, feminine smell.
I thought about how many miles she covered, just wandering around behind that bar. I thought about her tiny toes, all bunched up inside her pumps, and how good it must have felt to throw her feet up and slide them off.
I took her nearest foot in my hands and squeezed. My left hand had the ball of her heel, and the fingers on my right worked into the fleshy sole beneath her toes. Ashley exhaled deeply, and saying nothing, she closed her eyes. That was as much approval as I needed to keep going.
I worked the flesh between my fingers, massaging her clammy skin, marvelling at her arches. I pulled at her tiny toes softly, one by one, wondering how they would taste after a whole day in those shoes.
I switched to the other foot, and she exhaled again as I squeezed down.
"I didn't realise how much I need this," she explained, "it feels amazing. I'm sorry if my feet smell."
