You've been watching me.
I can see you from the cornet of my eye in class, when I wear my brown leather flip-flops in Summer. You can't tear your eyes off of my half bare feet, with their nice olive tan and big, square toes. Thick, manly toes that you'd die to set your lips on, I know it.
Every time I stretch out my legs in the aisle between our desks, or dangle my flip-flop by my toes while the professor talks, I can see you salivating over there, hanging on my every action just like you were. Dangling from my big toe.
Today, I've decided to put your torture to an end. You show up to my apartment in the afternoon, clearly showered and all anxious to see me. I'm wearing the same board shorts and sandals I had on in class today, my shirt a little musky under the arms. But I can tell you like the way I smell by the hungry look in your eyes.
I ask you in, offer you a drink and show you to the living room. I sit back and get to know you for a while, taking the conversation slow. I wait until I've caught you eyeing my feet a couple of times and steer the conversation towards what an obedient slave you're going to be for me. This takes you by surprise, so much so that you almost choke on your beer. But you keep up as best you can, meekly agreeing.