The Mother Tracie Deserves

AFTER A LONG DAY IN HEELS

The next Monday morning, I faced the bathroom mirror, nervously working on my makeup, frustrated with the results.

My stepdaughter stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and stood next to me with a smile. I muttered a curse as I wiped off too much blush.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

I scoffed. "It's just not working for me today. It's been so long since I've tried to look professional. The lighting in here is terrible, I can't even see what I'm doing. This foundation is the wrong color. Aghh, I just can't!"

"Mom, relax." Tracie stepped behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. "You're just nervous. It's totally normal."

I met my daughter's kind eyes in the mirror. She started giving me a shoulder massage, and immediately half the tension dropped from my body.

She said, "That's better."

"I haven't worked an actual job for a dozen years," I said. "I can't go in there looking like a clown."

Tracie laughed and continued to rub my shoulders, melting my anxiety away. She said, "Mom, first of all, you're beautiful. You don't need to do anything special. Your outfit looks great, you look great in it. Your hair looks great. Just do your regular makeup like you've been doing. Pretend like you're just going to one of my volleyball matches."

My daughter's compliments and calm encouragement brought me to my senses. I said, "You mean I don't have to make myself up like we did for the restaurant?"

Tracie put her cheek to mine. "Nothing that gorgeous," she said. "They wouldn't be able to handle it."

I breathed out my nervousness, and breathed in her love. "Thank you, honey. You're my angel, you know that?"

"Of course I do." She kissed my ear.

I turned to look at her over my shoulder.

She gave me a sweet kiss on the lips. "You're going to do awesome, Mom. Remember: they're lucky to have you - not the other way around."

I said, "Isn't that what I used to tell you?"

"Every team, every season."

There's a special feeling when your child echoes your own advice back to you. Maybe I hadn't always been such a bad mother after all.

I said, "Well, the luckiest one is me, to have you."

~ * ~

The first day at work flew by as I was introduced to many people, and tried to process the whirlwind of information about policies, procedures, and goals.

I wanted to succeed at my new job as much for my stepdaughter as for myself. I wanted to do better than good, I wanted to be excellent. For the first few days, between all the meetings and new-employee paperwork, I researched the company's products, services, and clients. To get up to speed all the faster, I also brought home research to do between dinner and my evening exercise with Tracie.

When we finished our meal, I set myself up at the dining room table with my company-issued laptop and a stack of printed product brochures. I rubbed my foot under the table as Tracie sat next to me. She had her own laptop and papers.

I said, "Oh, are you going to join me, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I saved some studying so we could work together."

"Oh, how fun!"

She said, "What's going on with your foot?"

"Ah, it's been quite a while since I wore heels all day. It was never my favorite thing to do."

"Aw, I'm sorry. They hurt?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get used to it. I'll gladly wear heels if it means I can have a decent job. I want you to be able to look up to me."

"I do look up to you, Mom."

"Thank you, baby. That means a lot."

It was delightful to sit next to my stepdaughter, doing our homework together. Every once in a while, we'd look up at each other, and Tracie's warm smile brightened my heart. If you had asked me what kind of life I wished my daughter and I could have, this was it.

A while later, I noticed Tracie was no longer paying attention to her laptop or papers. She was tapping her pencil, looking at me, like she was lost in thought.

I asked, "Are you all done with your studying?"

She nodded. "For tonight."

"Well, honey, you don't need to sit here with me if you're done. I'm going to quit soon anyway, so we can get our workout in."

"It's okay, I'm just thinking."

After a couple more minutes of looking thoughtful, Tracie turned to her laptop and started typing rapidly. Whatever she was doing, she seemed very happy with it. After an extended burst of writing, she read it over, giggling and making little changes.

Finally, I closed my laptop. "Well, I've had enough for the day. Should we get ready for our workout?"

"Wow, Mom, look at you! I didn't even have to nag you tonight."

Down in the basement, we got into a good, challenging exercise routine - designed and directed as always by my beautiful, brilliant stepdaughter. Halfway through, we paused to catch our breath and hydrate.

Tracie took a sip from a liter-sized water bottle and handed it to me. While I drank, she said, "I have a special idea for tonight." She had a mischievous look in her eye.

"What kind of idea?"

Giggling, she said, "You'll see."

After we finished our sweaty workout, I was first to jump into the shower for a quick rinse-off. When I got out, Tracie was standing naked in the bathroom, waiting for her turn. As I finished toweling off, she put her hand on my wrist and said, "I set your script and wardrobe on your bed."

I laughed, tucking my towel around me. "Script and wardrobe? Am I in Hollywood right now?" And then it hit me. "Oh, this idea - is this something for... the file?"

The file

had become our code for Tracie's blackmail materials on me.

"Don't freak out, but yes."

"We're still doing that?"

"Don't worry, Mom, this one will be fun. I think you'll like it."

"Like it, huh?" I didn't see how she expected me to enjoy being forced to create more blackmail on myself. But as I watched Tracie step her lovely, nude body into the shower, she gave me a smile that made me wonder.

She said, "Before you go, could you wash my back off for me?" She handed me a bottle of body wash and a washcloth.

I squeezed some body wash onto the cloth and lightly scrubbed my stepdaughter's long, smooth back. She hummed, "Mmm, that feels good." I circled the washcloth on her skin, and watched the soapy suds flow down her shining torso.

I always loved Tracie's dimples of Venus, the two beautiful indentations on her lower back, just above her pelvis. I snuck a feel of them with my fingertips as I washed her back. I had the weird thought of dropping the towel around my body and stepping back into the shower with my daughter.

"Thanks, Mom. So, look at the script while I finish rinsing off."

"Oh, yeah. Okay." I handed her the bottle and washcloth. "Am I going to have to memorize a bunch of lines or something?"

Tracie faced me and started washing her breasts and belly, making no effort to hide her private parts from me. "Well, you don't need to memorize anything word-for-word. We can improvise. But look it over to get an idea of how I want it to go."

I swallowed, partly because I was nervous to see what she had written for me, and partly because Tracie continued to openly caress her shiny-wet body, as if she wanted me to watch - and I did watch. I stood there like I was mesmerized by the sight of her. As her hands circled her young breasts, she smiled slyly at me, presenting herself to me, her hands now sliding down her sleek torso toward her groin. My trance broke on the inappropriateness of it. I cleared my throat and whirled around away from her.

I went to my bed where my stepdaughter had neatly laid a couple of printed pages. Next to the script was my "wardrobe," which was an outfit I'd wear to work. I didn't love the idea of getting re-dressed for work before bed, but I had my instructions.

I picked up the papers. As far as I could tell, the formatting looked like a real movie script. Tracie did take a media class in high school. I wondered if she was thinking about a film school for college. Did that mean she'd fly off to New York or California? I'd be sad if she moved so far away.

I heard the shower knobs squeak when Tracie turned off the water. She called out, "I'll get into my outfit and meet you in the family room, okay?"

"Uh, okay." I read the script. It was weird, but also kind of funny. I was thankful there wasn't anything rough in it, but my lines made me seem like an evil stepmother. I guess that was the point.

~ * ~

As Tracie's pages had directed, I sat in my work clothes on the family room couch. I continued going through the script, trying to memorize as much as I could, shaking my head at what we were about to do.

Tracie came in wearing an normal outfit like she'd wear to school, with her hair in a simple braid. She set up her camera to capture the scene.

"I'm nervous," I told her.

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, your little script there calls for nudity."

"Just me," she said.

"Yeah, but that's enough, honey."

"It's only for us, Mom. We're just play-acting. As long as you keep doing well with staying sober and your job and stuff, no one else will ever, ever see it."

"Yeah, but why do we need more naked stuff?"

Tracie cocked her eyebrows. "Mom, we talked about this. Not to be mean about it, but this is still blackmail. It doesn't work if it's mild and innocent. This is your motivation to stay clean, remember?"

I sighed and nodded. "I get it... But I'm also nervous because I don't want to mess up my lines."

"Honestly, the script is just a general idea. You can improvise. I will too."

I said, "So, basically, you just want me to act like a crazy stepmom who treats you like dirt?"

"Pretty much," Tracie chuckled. "Think you can handle it?"

"I guess I'll try. Never expected to be an actress."

"I know you're creative, Mom. Just pretend you're an evil stepmother and do what that character would do. Make it up as we go. Let's have fun with it."

"Okay," I said with an anxious exhale. "Let me know when to start."

Tracie had a big, excited smile as she double-checked the framing of her phone's camera. She set a vase partially in front of it.

"What's the vase for?" I asked.

"To make it look like I hid my phone behind it."

"Ah, smart." I couldn't believe I was complimenting my daughter on her blackmailing skills.

She said, "So, I'll leave the room. You count to ten, and then start by calling me. Ready?"

"I guess." I looked for somewhere to put the script pages, and ended up slipping them under the couch.

Tracie bent over to her phone and said, "We're rolling in five, four, three..."

My nervousness jumped when Tracie tapped her phone then walked "off-stage." I tried to think how this mean mother character would act. I suddenly realized a natural inspiration: I could imitate my own drunken mother. I knew that character very well. I slouched in my seat on the couch, just like my mom used to after she'd had a few drinks. I tried to calm my breathing as I counted to ten.

I yelled out, "Girl! What do you think you're doing?"

My stepdaughter called back from down the hall, "I'm doing my homework."

"Do your homework later. Get out here."

I heard her padding up the hallway. She entered the family room looking timid and worried. "Yes, Mother?"

Going roughly from the script, I said, "I've been working all day and my feet hurt. I want the whole foot treatment - the warm water, Epsom salts, and everything. You think you can do that without screwing it up?"

"Yes, Mommy." She hurried back down the hall.

Tracie never called me Mother or Mommy in real life, so that helped with the play-acting.

I heard her in the bathroom, gathering things and running water. After a couple minutes went by, I started muttering angrily, like I used to hear my own mother do, about how lazy my daughter was. I yelled out, "What's taking so dang long, girl?"

"Sorry, Mommy, it's almost ready."

"Well

I'm

ready

now

. Let's go already."

She walked slowly into the room, carefully carrying a wide plastic bin sloshing with water.

"About time," I said. "You got my Epsom salts in there?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Did you use enough? Last time you didn't use enough."

"I used more this time." She set the bin on the floor at my feet. Over her forearm was draped a clean hand towel and smaller washcloth. The washcloth looked like the same one I'd used on her back when she was in the shower.

Tracie knelt down at my feet. I was wearing the heels she had laid out as part of my wardrobe. She lifted my foot and started unbuckling the shoe.

As scripted, I said, "Um, what are you doing?"

"Your foot treatment." I was impressed with how genuinely scared Tracie seemed.

Here came the weird stuff, but I had to try and play it straight. I said my lines. "Really? I said the

whole

foot treatment. What are you wearing?"

"Oh, sorry."

She sadly removed her clothes, neatly folding and stacking each item, until she was in nothing but her bra and panties. She said, "Can I leave these on this time?"

I sighed in disappointment. "Girl, why are you acting so stupid? Do it right. I'm in no mood to have to punish you."

Tracie swallowed and nodded meekly. I could see tears welling up in her eyes as she removed her bra, and then her panties. I thought she really could be an actress if she wanted to.

My daughter set her underwear neatly on her little stack of clothes and knelt down naked at my feet.

I improvised, sighing more loudly in angrier disappointment. Tracie looked up at me, frightened.

I said, "Since when do I let you leave your dirty clothes laying around? I don't want to look at them sitting there. Put them away!"

"Sorry," Tracie whimpered. She grabbed her clothes and ran them to her room.

"And hurry up!" I called after her. "I've waited long enough already. This water's going to get cold."

Tracie came running back, holding her arm across her boobs, her body magnificent in the nude. She acted painfully nervous, kneeling once more at my feet. I let her remove my heels. She carefully set them to the side.

"Pants," I said, sliding down a bit on the couch.

She stood up and bent over to start unfastening my pants.

Inspiration struck me - it was nowhere in the script, but felt right: I gave her a nice big whack on her bare butt.

"Oh!" she whimpered.

"What's the matter?" I said without sympathy. "Did that hurt?"

"It... it's okay," she said.

"I know it's okay." I spanked her again in the same spot. Improvising felt easier by the second! As long as I could keep from laughing...

The camera couldn't see it, but I had left a distinct, blushing hand-print on my stepdaughter's perfect skin. I caressed her booty, hiding the fact that I felt kind of bad for smacking her so hard. The firmness of her smooth, athletic butt was impressive.

Tracie pulled down my zipper and I lifted my pelvis for her to take my pants off.

I said, "Careful! Don't let them get in the water. Keep them dry and fold them real nice."

"Yes, Mommy." She did as I told her. "Do you want me to put them in your room?"

I scoffed at her question. "No I don't want you to put them in my room. Quit wasting time already. My feet aren't going to feel better by themselves."

"I'm sorry," she said again, kneeling back on the floor. She slid the bin in place and gently lifted each of my feet into the warm water.

The foot bath actually did feel really nice! I sighed in pleasure. Then I said, "Don't get any water on the floor, either."

"Yes, Mommy."

Beyond this point, I didn't know much of what "the whole foot treatment" was - the script wasn't very specific. I'd just go with whatever Tracie did.

She began to stroke my feet in the water with her hands.

I said, "That's my girl." It was hard to act mean when it felt so wonderful. But I came up with another line. I said, "Quit hunching over like that. Straighten your back."

She did, the improved posture making her nude body even more beautiful.

For several minutes, I let her bathe and massage my feet in the warm water. I swear it's really true that Epsom salts help relax the muscles and joints. I settled comfortably into the couch and listened to the gentle water noises.

Tracie soaked the washcloth and caressed every inch of my feet with it, starting with the tops, then my ankles, arches, heels, toenails, and between every toe. If this was my daughter's new idea of a blackmail video, I was all for it.

I couldn't remember anything else in the script. I was so relaxed, I nearly fell asleep.

Tracie lifted both my feet from the water and onto her kneeling lap. Her bare thighs felt nice under my dripping, freshly-scrubbed soles.

She quietly wrapped the dry hand towel around each foot, then took her time tucking the towel into all the crevices between my toes. I'd never had such a lovely foot treatment!

She said, "Was that okay, Mommy?"

I nearly said,

That was amazing, honey.

But I remembered I was still supposed to be in character for Tracie's video. I cleared my throat and said flatly, "Good enough, I guess."

She said, "Do you want to do the next part?"

I had no idea what the next part was. Either it was in the script and I had forgotten it, or my stepdaughter was improvising. Either way, I went along.

I said, "What are you waiting for?"

She nodded unhappily. I tried to hide my surprise when she lifted one of my feet until it was level with her face. I had to try even harder when she stuck out her tongue and licked up the bottom of my foot. I had to scratch my forehead to hide my reaction to her warm, wet tongue on my freshly-scrubbed skin.

She said, "This is how you want it, right, Mommy?"

"Y-yes."

For the next several quiet minutes, I watched my sad-looking girl bathe my feet with her tongue. It took me a minute to get used to the craziness of it. And then, it was unsettling how good it felt.

I decided I needed to say something, in character, something mean. I said, "Look at me when you do that."

I wasn't prepared for how intense it was when Tracie's tearful eyes focused on mine. She kept eye contact with me as she wrapped her lips around my big toe and sucked.

I knew she was acting. As weird as it was, it was not difficult for me to act as though I loved it. To be honest, I became hypnotized by my daughter slowly sucking every one of my toes, pushing her tongue in every crevice between them, and licking up my arches.

My belly tingled at the stimulation of Tracie's tongue and lips on my feet. I wished she didn't look so sad.

In fact, she started to cry.

What would a mean stepmother say? I said coldly, "What are you crying about?"

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I-I forgot to bring the lotion."

I sighed like I could hardly stand her incompetence. "Well, don't just sit there. Go get it!"

"I'm so sorry!" She hurriedly laid the hand towel on the floor, rested my feet on it, and rushed down the hall. Her strong, naked butt looked incredible.

Within seconds she was running back with a bottle of lotion. I didn't remember anything about lotion in the script. Tracie must have made it up on the spot.

She quickly knelt back in place at my feet, even closer to me. She said, "Do you want me to put it on the special way?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. But I played along, saying, "Why do you even ask me that, Tracie? Of course I do. Is that so hard to remember?"

She said nervously, "No, okay, yes, sorry." She squeezed the lotion into her palm, then set the bottle down and rubbed her hands together. The lotion had a strong, invigorating peppermint scent. I lifted my first foot for her.

But she didn't touch it. Instead, I watched my stepdaughter spread the lotion all over her bare chest.

Then she took hold of my ankles and lined up my feet with her breasts. Leaning forward, she massaged her lubricated boobs into the sensitive arches of my feet.