For as long as he could remember Max had wanted to be near female feet. There wasn't a particular reason for it. He wasn't abused by his mother or anything. In fact, if he even tried to touch her feet he was forbidden. The same thing happened with any of her friends or his other female family members. Most boys would take the hint, but not Max. Each rejection only made his desire for feet grow stronger.
As time went on and he entered high school and his looks improved. He could grow hair on his face. His long side burns drew the attention of plenty young women. Max found himself having the pick of the litter when it came to dating. All these women yet not one appreciated his passion for feet. Many of them knew each other and before long Max was known as the HS foot pervert. So much for the dating thing. No one wanted to be seen with him anymore.
Snickers and sneers and haunted laughter followed him until he graduated. Then at 18 he decided to join the military. He learned of hookers and the likes. To think that women would actually have sex with him for only some money? How interesting he thought. Max was single and lived on base in the barracks. He ate in the chow hall, and they bought his clothes. He got paid every two weeks with nothing much to spend it on. So he decided to investigate this hooker option.
A buddy told him of a hot line where hookers put add on line. Max used his computer to find them in the local paper. He bought a paper and searched for a lady he thought might be able to feed his foot passion. It was ugly at first. He'd selected and called a woman who said they could meet. When he got to the restaurant and bought her an expensive meal she got around to asking him what he was into. Max whispered "feet and stuff," to which the woman laughed and sneered at him. Max was brought back to high school again. He got embarrassed and stood to leave. He could still hear her laughter as she shouted, "A foot freak, what a looser," behind him.
That was it for Max. Not only could he not find a woman who understood his foot fetish, he couldn't even buy one. He was crushed. Alone in his room he'd dream of such woman and masturbate. At least that way, he would be satisfied and not laughed at. It was frustrating. Once he went to a strip club with some buddies. They were all hooting and hollering over the half-naked women on the stage. One girl came out bare footed. Max whispered to his buddy that she had cute feet. The guy turned to stare at Max like he just broke wind. Then he yelled to the other guys, "Hey Max likes her feet, what a freak." The men laughed long enough to fluster Max, and then continued tossing dollar bills toward the girl. That was the last time Max mentioned his foot fetish in public, to anyone!
About a year later, Max took a part time job driving cabs. He'd just about learned all the roads in town. It's not that he needed the money. Max was bored. After work he had no friends. He was not happy drinking in the base bar. His last roommate got shipped out. He heard the money was easy to make. He only worked from 9pm until 3am the bar shuffle so why not? It occupied his time and put easy cash in his pockets. Besides, with all the army guys spending cash in the local bars, there were plenty trips back to the base, or to some gold digging girl's house. Either way, he got good tips.
One night he got sent to an alley downtown. A door in a dark wall opened and out stepped a woman dressed to the nines. She had long blonde hair. Her face was made up. She had ample breasts and a knock out figure. Black silk stockings with red spiked heels that sparkled when she walked climbed in the back door. She gave an address which Max noted and the car drove forward.
Silence was the order of the day. Every once in a while Max peered in the rearview mirror only to see the side of her face as she stared out the window. He thought she must own the place he'd gotten her from. She had jewels and gold on her neck and arms. She wasn't the ordinary west pacific widow he was used to. As he drove up to her address, his mouth dropped open. It was a large two story home. The fare was nearly 23 bucks. She threw a fifty over the seat and got out not saying anything. Max shoved the bill in his pocket and backed down the driveway. He never expected the large tip, yet he offered her no change.
Two nights later the dispatcher blared on the radio.
"You got a special Max, be on time."
The address was the same alley he'd picked up the classy blonde before. He was there the same time as last. Then that same dark unmarked door opened and she stepped out. She was still dressed up only this time in total black leather. Her long leather boots were knee high and as shiny as a new coin. She was dripping in pearls and gold around her neck. Even both wrists could fetch thousands. As she got in the back, again, not a word was spoken. Max remembered where she lived and drove in that direction. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. An angel fallen from above, he thought as the car rolled on. As he pulled to her front door, she tossed another crisp fifty over the seat to him. He started to tell her the actual price, but only heard the door slam in his face. She was mysterious and sexy at the same time. Without even admitting it to himself, Max knew, at her word, he'd surrender to her. If only she'd ever speak to him.
During the next two months Max was at the same pick up point collecting the tall blonde. It had become nearly a two or three time a week affair. Always the same destination, always in silence they drove. Oh Max had so many thoughts in his head about her. She seemed not to know he was even alive. In all the times he drove her, he'd never seen her wear the same clothes twice. She must really be loaded, he thought. She was always beautiful. She never had a hair out of place. Sometimes it was worn up on her head. Max loved it better when she'd wear her hair down over her shoulders. It was to him, her crowning glory. When the street lights shone through the back window, her lovely blonde hair would appear to take on a special glow. Max would just about give anything to touch it.
Once as he'd snuck a peek at her in his mirror he caught her eyes. The moment he knew she too was looking at him he began to sweat. His hands jerked the wheel and the car swerved to the left. He gained control quickly enough. After the car was safe, he almost crashed it again when he heard her say,
"Careful Maxwell, I used to think you quite the good cabbie."
Her voice, even in warning, was like that of an angel. Soft, sweet yet a tone full of intention. Max felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of it. He broke out in a sweat and gasped for breath.
"Are you alright Maxwell? Do you need medical assistance or something?" she asked softly.
"Oh no Ma'am," he stuttered, "I'm fine Ma'am. I was just, I mean, you never, well I mean Ma'am, ah, hmm..." He could not put a sentence together to save his life.
Smiling softly now, the lady said, "Its ok Maxwell. I think I understand. Without wishing to sound uppity, you are a man, and I'm beautiful. I astounded you by speaking to you so abruptly, I know."
Max began to settle down. She spoke so softly and spoke the truth. It was more than what she said, but how it sounded to him. And the way she said his name, Maxwell. It felt like she was his equal instead of his boss or something.
He cleared his throat and agreed saying, "Yes Ma'am you truly are."
