It was a gorgeous, sunny day in late July just about a week before my birthday. I had just signed off on an incredible deal that was going to make my company millions and net me a signing bonus big enough to keep me in very expensive shoes for a very long time to come. As I settled into my high back leather chair behind the great mahogany desk that is the centerpiece of my office, I gave a little stretch and yawn and kicked off my four and half inch patent leather pumps.
I curled my toes, clenching my feet muscles and, feeling that satisfactory tightening, I released them, relishing the feeling of the blood flowing to the tips of my toes and through the balls of my feet. I sighed, crossed my legs and leaned forward to open the bottom drawer of my desk when I noticed that the baby toe of my left foot had a chip in the polish. I frowned and bent down further to investigate. This wouldn't do at all. I had a date set for later that evening and I couldn't possibly show up with chipped polish.
Grabbing the phone, I punched in the number to my favorite salon-spa and enquired about an afternoon appointment. My regular pedicurist was completely booked much to my chagrin, but there was an opening with someone who had just been hired two days before. I grimaced, but decided I didn't have much choice and made the appointment.
Hanging up, I leaned over and slipped my toes back into the patent leather pumps loving the way they felt as they wrapped securely around my feet. Passing through my office door, I gave word to my assistant, Paul, that I would be leaving early that afternoon for an appointment and left strict instructions to patch all calls through to my voice mail. My cell was not to be called except for any emergencies. A pedicure is not something to be disturbed.
I was met at the salon by the usual receptionist who apologized for not being able to slide me into an appointment with my regular pedicurist and was escorted straight away to one of the pedicure rooms where candles were already lit, soft relaxing music was playing and a plush robe was waiting for me.
I stripped, taking my time and delighting in the liberating feeling that always overcomes me as each piece of clothing melts away. As always, I left my stockings and underwear until last because I quite enjoy the image that those articles of clothing create. I stared at myself in the antique full length mirror set in the corner of the room. Black lace thong and self stay black thigh highs with lace edging. Classic, I smiled, turning to the side and checking out the view. I ran my hand down my hip and cupped the cheek of my ass. My date had no idea what he was in for.
Just as I was losing myself in thoughts of what I would do to the poor man as I drove him absolutely wild with want, I heard a click and looked towards the door where a very surprised girl in her early twenties stood.
"I'm sorry....Oh my God, I'm so sorry...I just thought...." She shook her head and turned to leave.
I shrugged, calm and nonplussed. "It's fine. It's not as though you caught me stark naked." I joked and winked. I gathered that this was the new girl and didn't want to get her in trouble when she'd only been there a few days. Besides, the fault was mine. If I had wanted complete privacy, then I ought to have locked the door.
She looked relieved that I wasn't going to chew her out and rather than make a big deal out of something so ridiculous, she simply picked up the robe, walked over and, coming up behind me, she helped slip me into it.
"Great shoes." She commented and, as I tied the robe and slipped off my shoes and stockings, she busied herself getting everything she needed set out on a towel.
I sat myself in the chair, slipped my feet into the warm bubbling foot bath and rubbed the arch of one foot with the toes of the other.
We made small talk as she knelt before me and began the ritual of cleansing, sluffing away any dry skin, rinsing and then drying with my left foot. I closed my eyes, thoroughly lost in the incredible sensations of this girl's soft hands. Soft, and yet when she started to massage the arch, my heel, ankle and began moving up my calf, I couldn't help but notice the strength in her fingers.
My eyes flew open as her hands moved higher than my regular pedicurist usually went, and as she touched the back of my knee, I gasped lightly. I was feeling slightly indignant at the audacity of this new girl and yet also oddly intrigued and, to be perfectly honest, slightly turned on.
She looked up at me with these huge blue eyes as if to ask if something was wrong. Instead of saying anything, I closed my eyes and laid my head back. Her hands moved no further than my knee, and she started working her way back down to the tips of my toes. I tried to relax, lose myself in the feeling of her fingers massaging the toes of my other foot, but the image of her hands that far up my leg almost, one could say, between my knees, haunted me. I didn't know whether to be disturbed or to give in to the feeling of warmth that was threatening to take over between my legs.
Again, her hands moved from my toes to the arch of my foot, then to my heel, up my calf and as her fingers skimmed higher, that light touch on the back of my knee just about undid me. I was shocked at myself.
"Do you know what color you'd like?" She asked softly and handed me a swatch of nail polish colors from which to choose. I sorted through each of them and mused that someone got paid an awful lot of money to come up with the silly little names for this rainbow of hues. I settled on Cherry Crush, a vibrant red.
She set to work painting each toe with laser precision and I marveled at how quickly the task was finished with no messes or mistakes. I've often tried to paint my own toes and, though I am flexible enough to reach them without effort, the paint application process never goes smoothly or without error. She grabbed a can of "Quick Dry" and sprayed each toe with a mist of drying agent before rising from her knees and beginning the task of cleaning up while I relaxed, waiting for my toes to dry.
A few minutes later, she knelt back down to inspect her handiwork and a look of sheer satisfaction came over her face. "They're perfect." She mused and her finger traced a path down my big toe.
