Johanna X Sharon F F Pt 04

When I woke up that morning, the first thing I thought about was how much I had changed in the last 24 hours. I was still conflicted about what I had done the days before. You know how they say that the night brings advice? Evidently the night was looking the other way. That morning I didn't find Sharon knocking on the door to serve me breakfast. This only increased my paranoia.

Hadn't she brought it to me because she believed she was in an advantageous position over me and had therefore abandoned her overly diligent attitude at work, no longer fearful of being fired? Perhaps she thought of this act of kindness as an advantage, while I thought of it as a simple act of courtesy and friendship. "Well, if she feels that way then I'll play it forward. I'll make up an excuse and get her fired so she can't use this card against me," I thought.

As these rants rumbled through my mind, I noticed two little cards on the nightstand next to the bed. One was from my mother and read: Good morning Honey, I left early to avoid traffic on the way to the airport. Be a good girl and behave responsibly during my absence. Kisses, Mom.

The second note was from Sharon and read: Good morning Johanna, please excuse me if I didn't get home before you woke up. I went for a run in the grove around the house. You'll find your breakfast on the kitchen table. I made you the usual toast with strawberry jam and tea, which is kept in the teapot. Have a nice breakfast, Sharon.

This momentary absence of hers was in my favor and I decided not to bet on the fact that she had gone to do her own thing during working hours. I needed for the moment to not run into her too often. I felt uncomfortable and wanted to avoid possible clarifications about yesterday's situation or questions about what happened before I entered her room. However, the most likely reason for why I didn't want to meet with her was that I felt strangely uncomfortable. I masked this discomfort under these excuses dictated by paranoia.

My stomach was communicating to me that it was time to stop working my brain unnecessarily and put something under my teeth. So I put on my slippers and headed for the kitchen, where I started eating breakfast. While I was eating I heard the door open and immediately saw her appear in the living room. She was pretty sweaty, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she was wearing a black jumpsuit with sports shoes on her feet. "Good morning Johanna, welcome back and enjoy your meal," she said.

"Good morning to you too. What's with the news today?"

"I needed to get some air, I wasn't feeling very well."

"But didn't your foot hurt last night? Did you still manage to run?"

I said this in a questioning and slightly accusatory tone, not to the point of putting her on the defensive.

"What? Ahhh, that one does. No it doesn't hurt anymore, thanks for asking. Your message was super." She said it in a fairly flirtatious tone, but I couldn't help but say thank you for the "compliment."

Since I didn't open my mouth, intent on pretending to be mortally interested in a rather mundane cookie slice, I forced her to take her leave and head for the bathroom, where she would take a shower. We also had a bathtub at our house, but she couldn't use it. It was just for my mother and me. This little spite made me feel a little better. Was I being mean and childish? I don't know.

Sharon had gone into the bathroom and was washing up. She had left her sneakers in the living room by the door. Wait a minute. My brain was kicking into gear: she had left the shoes she had worn on her run by the front door of the house. A light bulb went on in my head. I approached the door and the shoes. I looked down at them. He had also left his sweaty socks in his shoes. Those socks and shoes had been in contact with her feet. I thought this was a chance to chase away the mischievous little voice that accused me of wanting to give her a massage.

"Let's consider this a test," I thought. If that neighbor was wrong, as she surely was, then I would have found the congealed smell of the socks repulsive and I would have immediately turned my nose away from that dirty object. So I bent down and picked up my left sock, lifted it to the tip of my nose and took my first whiff. Then I gave a second one. Then I pressed it against my nose and then stuck my tongue out and rested it on the sock for a moment. No dice. As much as I tried, the taste didn't disgust me. The sweat on the sock had almost dried and it had become cold. Both the smell and the taste were not bad for a sock that had been in contact with a sweaty foot during a run.

It tasted slightly salty, but salt is also put on food so it didn't bother me. It didn't bother me. This conclusion was certainly not good for my mental state. I was even more confused than the night before. So it's not unlikely that I wanted to give her a foot massage? Am I attracted to her extremities? Or am I attracted to her and this is a consequence? Or is it both? "I don't know, I don't get it anymore," I thought. I needed to freshen up and let the water reboot me.

I felt dirty inside though, so I opted for something more "long range"., stronger: a nice hot bath, with colorful foam and lots of perfume. So I went to my room, where I took everything I needed for the bath: my oils, my perfumes and a change of underwear. I headed for the bathroom, the door was half closed.

"Sharon I'm coming in! I'm going to run a bath."

"Yeah yeah, make yourself at home."

We laughed. We needed that joke. It relieved the tension for a moment. I turned on the tub faucet and put the colored soap in. Immediately the water began to change color, turning a pink very similar to what you see in Tokyo during the cherry blossoms. I lit the scented candles and waited for the scents to fill the bathroom. I was already more relaxed. I loved this kind of thing, it made me feel like a real lady. Suddenly Sharon came out of the shower. "You don't mind if I let you see me naked? We're both girls and we're friends."

I was taken aback for a moment. I was more reserved and I wouldn't have shown my shame so casually to another person. All in all, though, I didn't mind that she did. The foam showed off her features even more, flowing around her breasts, and further down to her shaved pubes. She still had some lather along her legs and going down I noticed with some disappointment that the polish on her toenails had faded slightly.

She really was a stunner. I felt slightly intimidated by her now, perhaps because compared to the first time we met I had knelt in front of her massaging her feet. I think I lingered a second longer than necessary my gaze on her and especially on her feet, while I was admiring the faded nail polish, because she arched her foot like a dancer and began to turn it left and right, as if to show it to me better. I followed the movement with my head. I would have been lost if she hadn't snapped her fingers in front of me.

"Hey are you there?" "Huh, what? "You like what you owe? Do I look hot?"

Saying this she turned her back and arched her butt to show it off. I didn't know what to say, I wasn't a lesbian, but that body was undoubtedly a knockout. So I replied, red in the face and as firm a voice as I could muster, "Yes Sharon you are very sexy, but you already know that."

"Thanks, so are you. Why don't you show me so I can confirm it?"

"No thanks, I'm embarrassed."

"Oh, okay. Whatever. " She looked slightly disappointed, but that was my body and showing it was just my decision. Before she left she said, " Hey, I keep not feeling very well today, can I take the afternoon off? As if that wasn't enough, that run tired me out more than it should have."

" Alright, no problem. I don't think this house is going to fall apart if it's not cleaned for an afternoon."

"Okay, then I'll see you later."

She slipped on her slippers, put a towel around her hair and one around her body and walked out of the bathroom closing the door. What was supposed to be a nice restorative bath for me had become a pink water trap. By now I was almost certain of it. I liked her feet and I liked her too. Maybe things were connected. What could I do with it though? With the sight of her naked body her extremities took on an even more beautiful appearance. I tried to relax in the tub, but it was no use.

My thoughts turned to Sharon's feet. Who knows what they tasted like. And if the smell wasn't unpleasant after a jog, as I had witnessed during my secret act with her sock, who knows what it must have been like when it was clean and scented. I found my right hand submerged in the water, frighteningly close to my sex. Was I taking so much pleasure in thinking about them that I was masturbating with those thoughts? I moved my hand away and since further lingering in those thoughts who knows where they would take me, I decided to get out of the tub after washing.

I took two towels, one for my hair and one for my body, and after drying myself off I left the bathroom with my underwear on. I didn't realize how empty my mother's presence made this house feel. I was lonely. I decided to go to my room and watch some TV or read a book. Before I went up the stairs to the upper floor, I decided to go see what Sharon was doing. The door to her room was half-open and out of politeness I knocked anyway and asked permission to enter. She was on the bed, on her stomach, with her legs up swaying back and forth. She was listening to music on her headphones.

When I entered the room she took them off and looked at me with a questioning expression.

"What's up? Do you need something?"

"No no, it's fine. I just wanted to know what you were doing. I see you were listening to music, so I'm leaving I don't want to disturb you during your afternoon off."

"No Johanna, please stay. I was getting bored. Why don't we watch an episode of the animal show? We can look up the episodes on the internet if you'd like."

"That sounds like a great idea, I'll turn on the smart TV in the living room right now."

"No wait, we might as well watch it here" She motioned me to sit sideways on his bed, so I took the plunge."

It was the first time I had ever stopped to look at Sharon's room. It wasn't all that different from the way Agnes had decorated it. Her uniform was on a hanger hanging on the door, the dancers she wore with the uniform in a corner by the door. Otherwise the room was quite bare. There were a few personal effects here and there, like a comb or nail clippers, but nothing particularly flashy. She put her right leg underneath her left so that I could see almost all of her right plant, slightly squashed by her thigh.

Her left leg, on the other hand, she kept it bent, resting her foot on the edge of the bed. I could thus see all parts of her foot in detail. I noticed some light lint attached to the sole of her right foot, probably taken from her slippers. I could also see the toes of her left foot, which with rhythmic movements, almost as if they were dancing, were clinging to the edge of the bed and arching immediately afterwards. The program was talking in the background, the episode was about platypuses and their evolutionary oddities.

More than that, however, I cannot tell you. My brain by lateral inhibition had suppressed the sound of the program and had given space to sight and smell. Guess what to watch? My brain, however, must have given too much space to these two senses because I heard myself slamming the question: "Look, the television is in front of you. What are you watching?"

With such a bronze face that Agamemnon's death mask was nothing in comparison, I said, "I was noticing the color of the nail polish on your toenails. Isn't it a little faded black?"

"Yes indeed it is. I should take it off and put the fresh one back on. I was thinking of doing it at the first free moment, but now I don't feel so good. Consequently I think I'll leave it like that. No one cares about my feet anyway ahahahaha."

I had two choices at that moment. I could let it go and respond to that comment with a giggle and an affirmation of condescension, or I could launch myself into the void and indulge my desire. I wanted to touch his feet again. So I replied, "Yeah, imagine anyone looking at feet, though...you know...they're ugly to look at like that. They would be much more...well...beautiful...if the color of the nail polish was as vivid as if you had just put it on. So," as I spoke I nervously touched my sweaty hands, and the blood flowed in abundance down my cheeks, by now I couldn't turn back..." how about I take care of removing and putting back the nail polish?

Since you're tired and can't do it, you know..." She looked me straight in the eye, but I couldn't stand the comparison and lowered my gaze. Since the silence after my proposal was getting too long, I assumed she didn't want to... "Alright, go and get a finger separator, the nail polish remover pen and the nail polish bottle. You're going to put it here for me, sitting on the floor. That way I stay on the bed and i am more comfortable. Okay?"

"Okay, whatever. I'll be right back."

She had answered me in an authoritative tone that almost didn't allow for a reply. Was he getting ahead of himself? I came to the conclusion that this was a totally nonsensical question, since I was the one who had suggested it. However, I didn't like the fact that I had to put the polish on her, sitting on the floor, like some sort of being inferior to her, like some sort of servant. I got everything I needed, went back to her room and prepared the nail polish remover pen. I found her facing the doorway, as if waiting for me. She had a smile on her face.

I couldn't blame her for what I was about to do. I knelt down in front of her, with my face as close as possible to the first foot on which I had to apply the treatment, the right one. I could now see every detail of that foot. Because of the light complexion I could see a few blond hairs on the toes. I could also see better the shape of the nails, very well cared for. With one hand I grasped the nail polish remover pen, since I couldn't stand the pungent smell of acetone and I didn't use it, and with the other hand I took the foot to have a better grip and to do my job better.

I tried to embrace with my hand the largest portion of the foot that I was allowed, to have a contact with its soft sole. I passed the nail polish pen over each nail with a precise and decisive touch, worthy of a Swiss watchmaker. I was absolutely concentrated and therefore could not see the expression on Sharon's face. A smile with 32 teeth. Once I had finished de-salting the first foot, I waited for a moment. I didn't know if she preferred that I de-polish this one or if I should remove the polish from the other foot first.

She didn't seem to pay any attention to me though. She was fiddling with her phone, as if it was perfectly normal to have your hostess kneeling in front of you and intent on painting your toenails. The program was running on the TV, ignored by both of us. So I gave a cough to make myself noticed so that she would give me her next instruction. I didn't want to say the other word. The O-word. The other word sanctioned a marked change in our relationship.

"You can move on to taking the polish off the other foot. I don't like to leave things half done. Finish one task first and then start another."

"Yes, princess of my boots. Look I'm not your servant, I'm doing you a kindness," I thought.

But I knew it was a tease, because I wanted to be there at that moment, so I answered her only a shy:" Ok."

I finished removing the nail polish on the other foot as well. After that I slipped the toe separator into her right foot without saying anything. It was clear that he was ignoring me. Maybe he wanted to check something out. Or maybe she didn't want to tell me something that she knew I would have done on my own. There was more taste that way I guess, I don't know. No one ever painted my nails or gave me a foot massage. When I put on the finger separator with my index finger I purposely went a little deeper into the space between the first and second fingers, with the excuse of widening the space to put the tool. I felt like a thief, robbing Sharon of that fragrance without her permission.

After that I stuck my finger in my mouth hoping not to be seen, simulating removing a peel. I began to apply nail polish to my foot. Methodically, I passed the brush over all the nails, taking maximum 2 passes for each nail. After that I did the same with the other foot, but this time I didn't taste the flavor of his foot. I didn't want to sin in Ηυβρις. "I'm done," he announced. I was very pleased with my work, and awaited his response. She finally pulled away from the phone and twirled her feet to examine my work.

"Johanna you are so good! You truly have a gift. You should do this more often.

" And in saying this he gave me a gentle push back with the sole of my right foot. I was petrified by that gesture. I had nothing to say. She had placed her foot on my face. She was my maid, yet she had dared to do such a thing. What was I feeling inside? Before I examined it I decided to grab the nail polish remover and leave on my way out of her room.

I took my leave and told her it was no big deal, with a trembling voice, like that of a child before crying. I went to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I was hot, but it wasn't because of the potential anger Sharon's gesture had aroused. No. I was excited. I was aroused because she had placed her foot on my face. I wanted confirmation, but that didn't take long to come on its own. I felt wet...

From Sharon's Diary:

Dear Diary, I feel like a fool. There is a small chance that I screwed up, caught up in the heat and joy of the moment. Let's go in order though. On this day I had the confirmation of Johanna's Incarnation by my feet. I have no more doubts. It was a day full of tests and all of them gave a positive result, if we don't count the last one.

I amused myself by being snarky to see if he finally got up the courage to yell at me, but nothing. She didn't say anything to me for neglecting my morning maid duties by going out for a run in the morning. And not even when I took a half day because I didn't feel like doing anything did Johanna have any reason. I think she feels pretty inferior to me now. It was great to see her admiring my body with that fishy look on her face in the bathroom. I wanted to burst out laughing as she stared at my feet, I bet if I had asked her to kneel down and worship me, naked as I was, she certainly wouldn't have refused.

That still wasn't enough. We needed a situation where she would voluntarily choose to have contact with my extremities again. I wanted to see how far she would go and she did not disappoint at all. She applied my nail polish divinely. I shouldn't have put my foot in her face. Maybe this is still too much for her. Now there is a risk that I will lose my servant girl in training. I hope she doesn't start to adopt a passive-aggressive attitude towards me.

I don't want to lose this opportunity. I like the way she looks at me too much and how she's starting to hang on my every word. But maybe she needs one last push. Maybe she doesn't feel like confessing to me yet, she's more comfortable in secret. That's why I'm going to do one last test. This will be the showdown. It can end one of two ways: my dismissal or...