The balcony was small, barely enough room for two chairs and a low table. After a long day of painting and decorating the apartment, my boss and I had decided to call it quits for the night. We’d been sleeping on site for the past few days to keep the project moving, and exhaustion was weighing on both of us.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the evening air cool us down. Then my boss spoke, his voice low and casual.
“I know you’re wiped out,” he said, “but I’ve still got one last thing I need from you tonight.”
With a sly grin, he lifted his large, bare feet and dropped them heavily into my lap. He crossed his ankles and pushed forward, pressing his warm soles firmly against my belly. His toes ended up just a couple of centimeters under my nose. The rich, musky aroma grew stronger in the confined space.
He leaned back, clearly savoring the moment of control.
“Come on,” he added, slowly wiggling his toes, “you can still find the energy to rub my feet, right?”
I glanced up at his face, then back down at his heavy feet resting in my lap. I tried to fake a look of disgust, wrinkling my nose.
He chuckled softly, not buying it for a second.
“I know you like my feet,” he said, his voice calm and confident. “I’ve seen the way you look at them the whole time we’ve been working. So spare me the fake surprise—you’re not the first one.” He paused, eyes locked on mine. “I just wanna know… how much you really like them.”
Without waiting for an answer, he slowly raised one foot in front of my face. He slid his thick toes deliberately under my nose, the warm, slightly damp pads brushing against my lips.
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