The Fetish

A few days ago, I went to the funeral home to take care of some business, and as it was the weekend, I thought I was there alone. While standing in the rear hallway tending to a text message, I was startled briefly as the door to the Funeral Director's Office suddenly opened and to my delight out walked Samantha. Not seeing me, she proceeded up the hallway to the front of the building softly humming the tune to a song whose identity I could not discern. She was wearing a black skirt whose hem rested just above her knees, no stocking and black shoes. I stood there so excited to see her as she had been on my mind heavily, and we had even been engaging in a little flirting recently, consisting mostly of her ensuring her gorgeous bare feet were subtly exposed to me from time to time.. I said nothing and simply adored her beauty. After she walked out of sight around the corner, I entered the Funeral Director's Office and began typing a business letter. Nonetheless, she remained on my mind, and I took a strange delight in knowing that we occupied the same building alone.

A few minutes passed before office door opened again, and smiling, Samantha said, " Oh, hey, Glenn! I didn't realize you were here. How are you?"

I smiled in return.

Well. It's going well. I was just stopping by to type a letter real quickly."

I swiveled in the chair to face her as she took a seat in the chair closest to me.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

She was seated with one leg folded beneath her and the other dangling in front of her. The taut skin of her knee took on a shine as she began rocking her foot and leg to and fro while adjusting her skirt to a place of modesty.

"Oh, I had to make 9:00 am funeral arrangements, and I'm just finishing up," she replied, intertwining her slender fingers and resting the palms of her hands on her knee. I was flush with attraction, and we smiled nervously at one another while continuing to talk. Samantha knows very well what she does to me, and she, I believe takes pleasure in doing it. I crossed my legs European-style, and in doing so, our feet nearly touched. We both looked down and back up a little bit from one another.

"Sorry," she said, grinning.

"Don't be sorry," I replied, smiling back at her.

A dramatic pause and silence ensued, but our eyes stayed focused on one another. Then we smiled at one another again, giggling together as if to acknowledge the palpable attraction to one another. She looked down toward her dangling foot, still rocking, and pushed her hair behind her ear. I leaned forward slightly and looked at the spot where she'd been looking with attempting to hide my gaze. She ceased rocking her foot, and it came to a stop as if she were allowing me a better look. Her toes, still sheltered by her shoe, wee pointing toward the floor, but still suspended. The curved, veiny top of her foot was visible and bare, and beautiful baby blue veins of her foot were swollen with distension. I could literally nearly see her warm blood coursing through them. My gaze lingered as she began to gently rock her foot to and fro again. I was about to look back up at her when the back of shoe wrested itself free from her heel with her foot's movement, and before she could bring her foot to a full stop, the shoe, clinging now only to the very tips of her toes, launched a few inches forward onto my own shoe, leaving her slender foot completely exposed and bare.

She gasped since this was unintended, and we immediately looked up at one another -- both of us a little startled. She quickly bent down to retrieve the shoe, but before she could reach it, I seized it with my own hand, and soaking I the sight of the gorgeous veiny top of her foot, the perfect shape of her slender toes, the subtle wrinkle and texture of her arch, I gently slid her shoe back over her exposed foot, and cupping the warm bottom of her foot with my other hand, secured it over her heel.

I leaned back in my chair and looked at her without smiling. Samantha's face was flush with blood -- with lust or embarrassment I could not tell.

"Thank you," she said, nervously biting her lip, in subtle seductive way.

I like that shade of pink," I said to her. "It looks like bubble gum."