I wasn't looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner at my mother-in-law's. Her husband had died two years prior, and she was clearly still grieving his loss; and bouts of sadness often made her extremely lonely. So she was really chatty with visitors, sometimes exhaustingly so. So I dreaded being caught alone with her inside her house. On the other hand, she was a very attractive woman. She had mid-length gray hair with a smoky quality to it. She also had deep blue eyes which were framed by cute wrinkled skin. From the outside, she appeared like the kind of woman who knew how to live life and have fun along the way.
While we were sitting on the couch inside our apartment, Josephine had her legs curled to the side of her, away from me, and she was wearing ugly cat socks. I would've liked for her to rest her feet on my lap instead. But she'd never let me touch her feet let alone rub them. And it wounded me inside since my foot fetish was such a deeply ingrained part of who I was. My mistake was falling in love with someone and never finding the courage to just be myself with her. I'd hinted about wanting to play with her feet so many times over the years. She just was never having it. Feet might as well have been deadly poisonous to her. So she never went barefoot around the house. Nor did she wear flip-flops or revealing high heels.
Her mother, Catherine (although I always called her "Mrs. Lever" in my head), on the other hand, was very much into fancy footwear and getting her toes painted. She even sometimes wore a pair of leather sandals with deep toeprints that I desperately wanted to clean with my tongue.
***
Mrs. Lever lived in a house that was deceptively large on the inside. She also had a huge backyard with a gym shed and a garden with a gazebo and pine trees lining the boundary to her property. One thing I loved about her walkway back there were the footprint stepping stones she had placed around the yard. I even took a picture of them once the first time I saw them, and I think she might've caught me, but didn't say anything.
Hanging on many of the walls inside her abode she had drawings and paintings of women's shoes like Warhol prints which I really appreciated.
For dinner, it was just the three of us. Even so, Mrs. Lever still cooked a glorious turkey and prepared plenty of side dishes (with Josephine's help).
At the time, Mrs. Lever was wearing a black blouse with a checkered skirt and black leather boots like something a dominatrix would wear.
"I'm thinking of hosting murder parties again," Mrs. Lever said as we ate together.
"Murder parties?" I asked.
"Like murder mystery parties. You're a writer," she said with a wink.
"I think that's a great idea," Josephine said.
"My friend's husband would be perfect because he works as a waiter at a 1920s-themed restaurant. So he has the perfect uniform he could wear, only he's not into role-playing."
"What a shame," I said, under my breath.
When she spoke, Mrs. Lever had a raspy yet soft voice which made her fun to listen to and gave her words an interesting texture. She just had too many of them to share, at times.
"The man could probably work as a model, he's that good-looking."
"I've been telling Greg that he should try to find an agent for hand modeling," Josephine said.
"Oh, you do have lovely hands, dear," Mrs. Lever said as she studied my hands as I straightened my fingers. "You know, I once thought about trying foot modeling when I was younger."
"Mom!"
"I used to receive so many compliments while out in public. Still do, honestly."
"Seriously, can we not talk about your feet at the dinner table."
"So, you'll let me talk about them in the living room?"
"You know what I mean."
"What's the big deal? Hands are just like feet."
"Most people's hands don't stink."
"I'm sure some do," Mrs. Lever said with a laugh. "We're simply having a discussion. It's not like I'm literally putting my bare feet on the table." At that moment, I tried picturing her mature soles on a plate with stuffing before us as they were covered in gravy. Dig in! I imagined her saying.
"Thank you for that vivid image, Mom."
"You're welcome, dear," Mrs. Lever said with a grin. "OK, we'll move on from toes, arches, and soles, just for your sake."
"Thank you."
"What about socks? Are we allowed to talk about those?"
"Mom!"
"What about shoes? You know, there's this really sexy pair of leopard print heels that I'd like to order online."
"You're impossible," Josephine said and I could tell that she wanted to flee the table in that moment.
After a half an hour or so, my meal started to catch up with me. Josephine had gone outside to get some fresh air or so I thought. When I walked over to the guest bathroom, the light was on and the door was locked. So Josephine had to be in there. Man, I really need to pee. At that moment, Mrs. Lever walked by and it was like she could read my mind.
"You can use my bedroom bathroom, dear."
"Oh, I can wait."
"She'll be in there for a while."
"OK," I said as I followed her to her bedroom which was somewhat clean, just a little cluttered with shopping bags. I was just glad that it wasn't a pigsty. "Thank you so much."
"Anytime. You're family now," she said with a warm smile. I stepped into her bathroom and scanned my eyes around. Lots of beauty products, a lone Coke can in the waste basket. I immediately noticed her pair of worn, black leather flip-flops; the same ones I'd been dreaming about for so long. I quickly shut the door and locked it. Then I picked up one flip-flop and sniffed it. It didn't stink too much, but the hint of her feet definitely aroused me. I couldn't help licking her toeprints and tasting the dirt, leather, and stale sweat. I knew Mrs. Lever would come check on me if I took too long. So I set her flip-flop down on the floor next to her other one, which I also sniffed and sampled. Then I took a piss and washed my hands. As I dried them off, I waited a bit for my crotch tent to go down.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, I noticed Mrs. Lever's collection of mostly black and red shoes and boots. Damn, she has nice taste.
I made way back to the dining room and took my seat. Conversation flowed the same as before. But now, I was buzzing a little from tasting Mrs. Lever's flip-flops, which was almost like tasting her feet but not quite.
"Why are you smiling?" Joesphine asked me with a puzzled look on her face.
"I don't know."
Later, while Josephine was taking her time in the bathroom again, I was left alone with Mrs. Lever, which wasn't so bad after all her innocent feet talk.
"I'm really sorry about my bathroom," she said, sounding a little embarrassed.
"You don't have to apologize for anything."
"I didn't mean to leave my stinky flip-flops in there," she said as she playfully covered her face and laughed.
"Oh, that's not a big deal."
"Maybe I should try a little baking soda. Maybe that'll do the trick," she said as Josephine returned to the table.