My door opened without being knocked.
I looked up from my desk to see Connor walking in. He closed the door behind him.
Since last time he'd only been in with his father, two visits, maybe three. Check-ins, quick walkarounds. He hadn't looked at me once.
"Connor. Is your dad coming?"
He just stood there. Hands in his pockets, eyes on me. Not aggressive. Just still.
I gathered what I needed and moved aside, leaving him the desk.
"Would you like anything? Water, something to eat? You look tired."
He rotated the chair to face me.
I still don't know how he knew. I'd done this before, with partners, people I'd chosen, situations I'd had some say in. Connor was nineteen, maybe twenty. He'd walked in and somehow already knew what I was.
I dropped to my knees right between his legs.
I could feel him looking down at me. I reached for his trainer to untie the lace.
He leaned forward and untied both himself, slowly, watching me the whole time. Pulled the tongue back. Dropped one shoe, then the other.
"Tell me how they smell."
I hadn't expected that. I reached for the nearest one and he shook his head.
I set it on the floor and bent forward, nose at the opening. The smell hit me immediately. Warm, worn, moist.
"Warm. A bit moist. Good."
He lifted one foot and held it above my face, sock still on. Just held it there.
I pressed my nose up into the sole and inhaled.
He peeled both socks off and rested his foot on my face and waited.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his sole. Then my tongue. I ran it slowly from the heel up, the skin was warm, slightly rough at the heel, smoother toward the arch. I could taste the salt. I went back to the heel and did it again, slower.
I worked up the arch. Pressed my tongue flat against it and held it there. I kept going, up toward the ball of his foot, the base of his toes. I took my time there, ran my tongue along each one, between them.
I moved to his toes properly. Took the big one into my mouth, then the others one at a time.
He switched feet without a word. Just pulled one back and set the other in front of me.
I started at the heel again.
This sole was softer. Same smell, same salt. I ran my tongue up slowly, took my time at the arch.
"My dad would find this funny, faggot."
I didn't say anything. I kept going. Toes again, between each one, slow. I could feel his eyes on the top of my head.
I don't know how long I was down there.
At some point I put my hands around his soles to rub them.
He pulled his foot back and kicked me, knocking me onto my back.
He put his socks and shoes on. Stood up. Picked his phone off the desk. Didn't look at me.
The door opened and closed.
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