Januaries are always cold in the upper Midwest. This year, though, has been the coldest we've seen in a long time. But, despite high natural gas prices and low temperatures, our house had been comfortably warm throughout the cold spell until the day my husband, Michael, an airline pilot, left for his monthly four day trip to Europe. Suddenly our almost new, high efficiency, just out of warranty gas furnace, Michael's proudest home improvement, stopped - you'll excuse the expression - cold. Frantic calls to the company with our service contract brought only vague promises of help "by sometime tomorrow." Even more frantic calls to the "round the clock repair service guys" brought either more vague promises or outright refusals to hazard a guess as to when a repairman might make it to our house. Grrrrr!! Men! Silently abusing my husband for not being home to handle this problem, I started considering my options as the temperature in the house fell past the 60 degree mark. We have two girls, one six and the other eight who would soon be home from school. I needed a place for the three of us to sleep tonight because once the sun went down, the temperature in here was going to fall a lot farther.
Just as I started running possibilities through my mind, the phone rang. It was Carol from a couple of doors down calling to see if I could work at the school tomorrow. She knew it wasn't my normal day, but one of the mothers had canceled out on her. Now, Carol Meyers is one of those people who are involved in every neighborhood activity, do everything well, will walk through fire for a friend and don't have an enemy in the world. My older daughter is in the same class as Carol's son and I'd known her since we moved here five years before. We saw each other at school, at the pool, at church, at the neighborhood social club; we went out together with our husbands for dinner and dancing. Carol, I thought, will help us out.
I was right. When I told her that I couldn't help at school because I had to be home for the repairman, she asked what was going on. And when I explained our predicament, there wasn't even any discussion. Carol's husband was down in Virginia someplace for two weeks of navy reserve stuff and he'd left one of her two guest rooms unusable. (It seems that putting in the new hardwood floor had turned out to be a little harder than the guy at the Home Depot promised.) But, if my girls doubled up in the other guest room and I didn't mind sharing her room, Carol said we were welcome to stay with her until the heat was fixed.
That was all the invitation I needed. I told Carol - who hates cooking - that I had a pan of lasagna in the oven and a chocolate cake that I'd bring for supper. She'd said she'd supply the heat, beds and wine and would expect us right after school. See, I told my absent husband, who needs a man around all the time!
The girls got home about 4:00pm and by 4:15 we were on our way to Carol's with school books, overnight bags, favorite stuffed animals, lasagna and chocolate cake in hand. Carol, who's in her early thirties, with a cute pixie face, short hair and nice figure met us at the door, dressed in old sweats and athletic socks. Typically, she insisted on hugs all around. Soon the overnight bags were in the proper bedrooms and dinner was on the table. The kids were in high spirits because of the unexpected "adventure". I was glad to be under a warm roof and Carol seemed genuinely pleased to have us there. After seconds on chocolate cake, the children were put to work on their studies, while we moms cleaned up. By eight o'clock, the kids were washed, brushed, tucked in and, if not quite asleep, certainly well on the way. Carol and I were sitting next to each other on the couch in the family room, warming our toes in front of a nice fire, sipping merlot, talking and laughing. I felt a nice, pleasant buzz from the wine and Carol did, too, I think. Anyhow, after a hectic day I finally began to wind down. It felt nice and I reminded myself that life can be pretty good. Though I didn't know it, it was about to get a lot better.
We chatted and sipped our wine. At some point, I said that on nights like this at home, in front of the fire, Michael would rub sometimes my feet, which I absolutely loved. Carol said she'd rub them for me, if I wanted. And to my surprise, I found myself swinging my legs up on the couch and into her lap, as I laid back against the arm of the couch. Carol rubbed my feet gently, running her thumbs along the bottoms, then slowly pushing her fingers back up along the tops, towards my ankles. It really felt lovely. After a couple of minutes, she said sometimes her husband liked to suck on her toes and asked me if anyone had ever done that for me. I shook my head no and Carol smiled, lowered her head a little and raising my left foot with both hands, starting to lick and suck my toes. It would have been funny, if it hadn't been so pleasant, almost erotic. I suppose if it hadn't been for the wine (we'd finished the whole bottle) alarm bells would have been ringing in my head. Instead, I just kind of purred as she licked my toes and rubbed my foot.
My other foot was lying in her lap and Carol had opened her legs slightly so it fell between them, resting against her crotch. As she continued to lick the toes on my right foot, I could feel her pushing her crotch against my left. Without really thinking about it, I started pushing back and turned my foot so that the toes dug into her crotch. I realized with a little start that Carol wasn't wearing much under her sweats, and found myself getting a little aroused. Our eyes met as I continued to push and she wriggled her hips a little. After a minute or so, she dropped my foot back into her lap and shifted position so my toes were no longer pushing at her crotch. Giving me a little smile she said she hoped I'd enjoyed the foot rub as much as she had. We both laughed!
Suddenly, I was kind of sleepy; looking at my watch I told Carol that it was already nine o'clock. She looked at the fire, which had burned down considerably and said that she didn't feel like getting any more wood and asked if I was ready for bed. I was tired and said yes. Carol got up from the couch first, and as she did I noticed a little wet spot in the crotch of her sweats. She wasn't the only one, my panties were a little moist, too. My mind may have been a bit fuzzy, but not so fuzzy that I didn't know we'd been a little "naughty." And had enjoyed it.