I love walking in the park. It was a normal day in August, which is to say, it was warm and the sky was clear. There were a few children playing, far enough their voices were delightful rather than annoying. The breeze rustled the tree leaves, birds soared and sang, and a few flowers bloomed, showing beautiful colours and filling the air with pleasant scents. I admit it was also a good chance to look at pretty people having fun. It rarely came to anything more than an innocent pleasure for me, and for those who like to be admired. So as I passed by a beautiful young woman, sitting on a bench, reading, and idly swinging her feet back and forth, I spared her a glance. the last thing I expected was to hear a firm voice calling me out.
«What are you staring at?»
I was so surprised, I stopped walking, looking down with my mouth open. I wanted to justify myself. I hadn't meant any harm. Maybe I had made her feel uncomfortable though. Slowly, I raised my eyes, my mouth going dry, and just then, she turned a page of her book, seeming completely enthralled, as if she hadn't even noticed I was there.
«So, are you going to answer?»
Her lips didn't move! I turned my head from side to side, trying to find the speaker. Now I was paying attention, I realised I didn't get a sense of direction from it. The voice sounded female and lacked any obvious accent. There wasn't anything else I could say about it.
«It's us, her feet.» Now the tone was a little playful, delighted with my discomfort.
"What?" I muttered.
«You don't need to talk outloud. We can hear your thoughts, just as you can hear our words in your mind.»
This was too weird for me. I turned away, and gave her one last quizzical glance. she must have heard me, because she looked back, and closed her book.
"Hi! I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" she asked. Her voice was very different. Unlike the disembodied words from before, she had a slight Northern accent, and she sounded cheerful.
"Oh, never mind. I was just talking to myself."
«Smooth. No wonder you're lonely enough to look at random women in the park.»
Could it be true? Were her feet talking to me, and if so, why? They were certainly very rude, whoever they were. Getting berated like that made me blush, and she noticed.
"Would you like to sit with me?" She patted the bench by her side.
«Do you need a map?»
«Shut up!» I thought as loudly as I could, nodded, and took a sit.
The bench was warm, and I was all too aware of her nearness. The feet--I was starting to believe it really was her feet--had been rude, but accurate. These excursions through the park were the closest I got to having a social life. I was too shy to initiate contact, and too invisible for others to do so.
I wouldn't have given her feet a second look, but the situation was unusual. They rhythmically swayed, clad in open sandals that showed them off to good advantage. the constant movement and her shiny red toenails drew my eyes, and by the time I realised...
"Are you staring at my toes?"
... it was too late.
My cheeks felt like they were on fire. Even my ears were hot. My heart was about to burst.
She giggled.
"That's cute." She turned towards me, and raised one foot closer to my face. She was amazingly flexible.
"You can look, I don't mind. Do you like the colour?"
«Come on, boy. You may as well make the best of it. This is the closest to a woman you've been in years. Don't bother lying to us. We know.»
"I..." I gulped, trying to look for words that didn't make me sound like a complete idiot. "Um... yeah, it's a pretty colour."
Her foot came even closer to my face, and she leaned in towards me.
"Yes, I think they're the precise colour you get when you blush!"
I groaned, and she moved her foot away.
"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't tease you like this." She patted my hand. "You're too easy. Really though, do you think my feet are beautiful?"
"Of course." that came out a little too fast.
«You better do.»
"It's just..." She sighed. "No, never mind."
"What is it?"
«She's reeling you in like a fish.»
"Oh, just me being silly. I was thinking, after a long walk, it would be so pleasant to get my feet rubbed. I know, I know. It's too much to ask."
«Say yes.»
«What? No!» I didn't want her to think I was a complete doormat, even if I was. Especially if I was.
«Come on. It's the only way you get to be with her. Listen to us. She loves foot massages, and we do too. Say yes, do a good job, and maybe she'll keep you.»
I dithered, overthinking things, as usual.
"I guess that's a no," she said, stretching her hand towards her book.
