The Mirror Ch. 06

Then Stacey, all emotional-voiced, and her lips all quivery, said entreatingly, "Really, Miss Carson, you can't sack James. Really, you can't. It would be such an awful waste. Such a tragedy."

"Stacey's right, Miss Carson," agreed Gail wholeheartedly. "We've all got James wrapped around our little finger ... it's as good as having a slave."

"Yes," agreed Jane vehemently. "We've never had it so good, Miss Carson, since James started work here."

Dripping sarcasm, Miss Julia Carson replied, "Oh, James has actually started work, here, has he? Well, you could have fooled me, Jane."

Jane responded, with spirit, "But, that's only because you don't see, what we all see, Miss Carson! Every day."

Gail said, supportive of Jane's argument, "It's true, actually, Miss Carson. Because of the ... way, he is, James is like an always available, ever-ready, eager-to-please genie who we can all summon from his bottle whenever we want ... To do, whatever we want. Nothing, is ever too much trouble – is ever any, trouble."

"Actually, Miss Carson," Maxine piped up, "I can't help but feel we are all missing a trick. We could all be making even more use, of James. I mean, why shouldn't we all take maximum advantage, of his little ... weakness? In between the jobs we give him to do, and the errands we send him to run, we could have him going from desk to desk, massaging our feet, for us. That would be nice, wouldn't it? I love having my feet massaged!"

James could hardly believe his ears. Could hardly believe, just what Maxine – Maxine the "minx" – was actually proposing.

Miss Julia Carson replied, uncertainly, "Um, Maxine ... I'm not so sure, that that would be—"

"That would be great, Miss Carson – and you know it!" asserted the rather forthright Maxine.

Under her five Associates' relentlessly increasing pressure – especially, from the rather imperious Maxine – the usually dauntingly authoritative Miss Julia Carson said, diffidently, "Maxine, as an employer, there are certain ... um, standards, that I must adhere to. Certain ... um—"

"Don't tell me, Miss Carson, that you wouldn't enjoy summoning James into your office, every day, and have him massage your feet, for you," argued Maxine forcibly. "I mean, we all know he'd like to do it – for you, Miss Carson, and for all the rest of us, too. So ... why not let him?"

Backing Maxine up, Lisa contributed persuasively, "And, when you really think about it, Miss Carson, it does actually make a lot of sense, from the productivity output aspect. I mean, James will knuckle down to his work even more, then, won't he? So as to earn himself more time, for massaging our feet. And ... and it would be ever so nice. Don't you think, Miss Carson?"

Miss Julia Carson blustered, "Well ... yes, I do. Of course, I do. I enjoy having my feet massaged, just as much as any of you. But ... I – I don't know, Lisa ... I really don't know. I mean, it's really not the sort of thing, is it, to ... to subject a member of staff, to such—"

"But, that's just it! No one would be subjecting James, to anything! Would they, Miss Carson? Not when we all know that he actually wants, to do it," countered Maxine, reasonably.

"Maxine ... Um ... as an employer, I have to be—"

"Oh, come on, Miss Carson!" Maxine interrupted, in exasperation. "What's the matter with you? Give it the go-ahead! Give it the green light! We all know that you want to! And there's no real reason not to! Come on, Miss Carson – it's not like you, to look a gift-horse in the mouth!"

Gail said, in support of the exuberant Maxine's proposal, "I agree with Max, and the other girls. James would make an excellent ... well, we may as well call a spade, a spade ... foot servant. And I think I understand what your issue is, Miss Carson. But, as I'm sure we will all agree: whatever went on, in this office, would stay, in this office ... and I'm sure James would agree to that."

James could hardly believe it.

Could hardly believe it, as he saw all of the office girls' emphatic nods, and heard their sentiments of wholehearted agreement, that, yes: James most certainly would, agree to that.

Yes, they were her five Associates ... And so they were perfectly entitled, to voice their thoughts, and perfectly entitled, to offer their input – perfectly entitled, to a certain say, in matters.

But, sometimes, Miss Julia Carson wondered who was really, the boss in this office ... "Oh! All right! All right! I'll – I'll give it some thought, then ... okay?" she capitulated, at last.

Now, James's five female office colleagues, having successfully secured their boss's submission to their proposal – because they all knew that she had, submitted – went back to studying their computer monitors, and studiously poring over the items on their work desks ... and absentmindedly shoe-playing.

James had been going nuts.

Going nuts, watching Miss Julia Carson and her five office girls, showing off, and comparing their shoe-playing skills – competing, with their pump-dangling daring-dos!

Going crazy, at listening to what they were all saying – saying, about him!

Going bananas, at discovering that they all called him 'the foot boy'!

Going off his rocker, that Miss Julia Carson had as good as given the "go-ahead"!

That she had as good as given her five office girls the "green light"!

That they were all – Miss Julia Carson included – actually going to use him, as their going-from-desk-to-desk "foot servant".

That they were all – Miss Julia Carson, Lisa, Maxine, Stacey, Gail and Jane – actually going to let him massage their—

The front door to the office opened ...

"Er ... I thought I'd just pop round ... You know, like you told me to. Is ... is this a good time?" said Mr Steve Conroy, owner of the newly opened Krystal's nightclub. "I mean, I just looked through the window, and you all seemed very ... animated. Were you having one of those ... clear-the-air, meetings?"

Miss Carson got up from the edge of Lisa's desk and, with a big welcoming smile, she said, "Oh, it was nothing. Just ... girl talk. Um, come this way, Steve. We can discuss your nightclub's insurance requirements, in the privacy of my office."

With a soft click, Miss Julia Carson's office door closed behind herself and Steve Conroy, and the horizontal blinds dropped down over the door's clear-glass panel ... And the five office girls exchanged knowing looks.

Looks, that said: 'So ... It's "Steve" now, is it?'

* * *

Monday. 11:45 a.m.

What now? James was wondering excitedly as, once again, the mirror's eerie white light was pulsing.

Pulsing.

Signifying, as James well knew, that ... something, was about to happen.

Expectantly, James watched the eerie white light ... And, once again, the 'picture' resolved: The 'picture', as depicted on the mirror's two-foot high, four-foot wide ultra high-definition 'screen'.

And, at what he was seeing, James was instantly on high alert.

Pictured on the mirror's amazingly realistic, true-to-life, ultra high-resolution 'screen', was the interior of Tootsies Pedicure Salon.

The salon's proprietresses, Jennifer and Sharon, were seated opposite an attractive, dark-haired and rather full-figured girl. She was nineteen or twenty, James guessed.

It must be the staff interviews! thought James.

From the mirror's 'broadcasts', he knew that, as part of their business expansion plan Jennifer and Sharon were hoping to take on two new employees today: One of them, to work alongside Jennifer and Sharon in the salon. While their other new employee would be mobile – going from assignment to assignment, in the salon's logo'd and fully kitted-out van.

"So, Melanie. Tell us why we should take you on," invited Sharon pleasantly, addressing the pleasant-featured and full-figured young woman. "Why should we employ you, instead of one of your rival job candidates?"

Upon Sharon's receiving only a careless shrug, and a blank, unresponsive look from Melanie, in friendly tones Jennifer prompted, "What would you, bring to the job, Melanie? What are the qualities, would you say, that separate you from all of the other job-hunters?"

Melanie kept up her unresponsive, blank-look facade of sullen indifference for a few moments longer ...

And then, with the frankly appraising, earnest regard of Jennifer and Sharon filling the ensuing silence ... she finally folded. And as the mask fell away, the effect was startling as the real, and actually very personable Melanie was revealed.

"Oh, I may as well tell you – just to get this ridiculous farce over with," said Melanie. "I mean, you both seem very nice, to me, and I wouldn't like to waste your time – you don't deserve that ... I'm only here because the Job Centre sent me. They told me I'd be sanctioned if I didn't attend the interview – that I'd forfeit two weeks' dole money. And no way can I afford that. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I don't want to work. I do, want a job. But, with all due respect – and you two do seem like very nice ladies; in fact, the sort of people I'd like to work for – I don't think that massaging girls' and women's feet and painting their finger and toenails all day, is for me. It would just be ... well, too boring. I mean, I'd rather do something that had a bit more ... well, job satisfaction, to it. You know?"

James saw Sharon and Jennifer exchange meaningful looks.

Sharon said, "Thank you for your honesty and candour, Melanie. But let's not be too hasty. Based upon what you have just said, I don't think you have a full appreciation of what our work here at Tootsies is really all about. I think you would think rather differently, if you did."

Jennifer chimed in, "Sharon is right, Melanie. Sure, our clients come to Tootsies to top up their tans on our sunbeds, have their finger and toenails painted, and enjoy a nice foot-massage. Reflexology is an art, though, that requires training, knowledge and skill. And it's not just a foot-massage, either – it's much more than that. You'd be amazed, Melanie, at just how many nerves there are in the soles of your feet. And proficiently manipulating them – performing reflexology – does the whole body a power of good. In fact, it is actually an alternative form of medicine; you know, like acupuncture, for example. And nail craft – although of course that has more to do with appearance – has become a quite sophisticated and technical skill these days, too."

Melanie said doubtfully, "Well ... maybe. But—"

Jennifer continued, "I think me and Sharon are agreed that, despite your best attempts to disqualify yourself from consideration, you are a genuine person, with a pleasant and engaging personality – just the sort of young trainee girl we are looking for. Our clients will love you, Melanie – I just know they will."

Sharon said, "Yes, that's right. We think we are fairly good judges of character, Melanie. And we think that, in you we've found the young trainee girl we're looking for to work alongside us in our salon."

"It's very nice of you to say that, but—"

Sharon quickly went on, "So ... we'd like to offer you a month's trial, Melanie. If you wished to, though, you'd be free to leave at any time – with no hard feelings on our side. And you wouldn't have a problem with the Job Centre about it, either. We'd tell them that you just weren't cut out for this particular type of work. Not your fault at all."

"That's – that's really very good of you both. Really, it is. But ... I honestly don't think, that I—"

Sharon interrupted again, "Tell me, Melanie ... have you ever had reflexology performed on you?"

"No, I haven't. But, I really don't imagine, that I—"

"Right then, Melanie, we're not letting you escape from our grasp, this easily!" said Jennifer, pleasantly but firmly. "Just come and lie on one of our comfortably padded treatment tables, for five minutes, and give Sharon and me a chance to convince you of the magic of reflexology."

"Oh, no! Really! Really, I couldn't possibly. You see, I've ... I've got such stinky feet. You don't want to get your hands, all—"

Sharon said, "Handling girls' and women's stinky feet is all part of the job, Melanie. But it's not nearly as bad as you might imagine. You'll soon get used to it ... you'll see. Actually, it was only very soon after we started our business, that Jennifer and me realised that we didn't mind the smells of girls' and women's feet, at all. In fact, to us, far from unpleasant, our clients' foot aromas have become rather like exotic perfumes, that we actually find quite ... intoxicating. Each and every one of our clients, we'd soon realised, have their own, individual and unique foot scent. And, believe it or not, Melanie, I'm sure I could recognise most – if not all – of our clients blindfold, just from the aroma of their foot scent."

Jennifer agreed. "Me too, Shaz. To us, the individual foot scents of our clients are their distinctive signatures: once sniffed, never forgotten."

"To listen to you two," replied Melanie in incredulous amazement, "anyone would think you actually like the smells of girls' and women's stinky feet!"

Sharon replied, "Well, Melanie, I'm sure you'll find this very hard to believe, now, but I suppose you could say that the heady aromas of girls' and women's feet have gradually, well ... grown, on Jen and me."

"So come on, Melanie," said Jennifer persuasively. "Now that you know me and Shaz find the smell of girls' stinky feet far from objectionable – on the contrary; that we are actually something akin to ... connoisseurs – just lie on this nice and comfy bench, on your front. Just relax – we'll take your flats off for you."

"And in just five minutes, if me and Jen haven't convinced you that reflexology is one of the most wonderful and enjoyable things ever, and to come and work for us at Tootsies, well ... I'll be a monkey's uncle," predicted Sharon with certainty.

"And after all, sweetie," said Jennifer brightly, "you've got nothing to lose, have you? – but a free foot-massage to gain!"

"Well, if you put it like that ... All right, then ... I suppose." said Melanie diffidently. "If you insist. But – but don't forget: I did warn you ... about my stinky feet."

James was going crazy.

Such talk, he'd been listening to! He could listen to Sharon and Jennifer and Melanie's foot-talk, all day long. Talk, that was just so incredibly exciting – amazingly arousing – to listen to ... And inevitably, James was at it again ... Rub, rub, rub ...

Raptly, James watched the unfolding scene, as depicted on the mirror's amazing two-foot high, four-foot wide high-resolution 'screen'; the true-to-life 'picture', awesomely realistic ... and his fevered anticipation built and burgeoned.

Built and burgeoned, as the attractive, dark-haired and full-figured sanction-fearing job applicant finally managed to overcome her reluctance, and did as invited.

Lying on her front, upon the firm but comfortable black-leather faced treatment table, Melanie finally gave herself up to the proposed five-minute massage ministrations of her prospective employers, Jennifer and Sharon.

James was going nuts ... Rub, rub, rub ... Pull, pull, pull ...

Jennifer and Sharon – who James still sometimes thought of as the Barstool Blondes – were going to massage the self-confessed stinky feet of their reluctant prospective employee, Melanie ... And James had a 'ringside' seat!

Jennifer and Sharon positioned themselves at the prone Melanie's feet; Jennifer taking Melanie's left foot, and Sharon taking Melanie's right foot. Together, the two reflexologists removed Melanie's well-worn black leather flats – being very flexible, they came off easily – and placed them on the floor.

The mirror now zoomed in, for a close-up view ...

And James now saw that Melanie's soles were nicely shaped and lightly suntanned. And that her slightly rough-skinned toe pads, heels, and the balls of her feet were a pinkish-red colour. Her low-to-medium arched, slightly fleshy feet, thought James, were maybe a little smaller than he might have imagined for a girl of her height and build. Melanie, thought James, had typical girl-next-door feet ... and he was totally wowed by them.

Sharon announced, giggle-voiced, "Tickle test, Melanie ..."

From the bottom of her heel, straight down to her middle toe, simultaneously Jennifer and Sharon slowly ran the pad of a forefinger down Melanie's bare soles ... And James watched Melanie tightly scrunch the toes of both feet, in an acute response. The undersides of her toes disappeared from sight, as her toe pads urgently curled towards the balls of her feet, and James now saw that Melanie's toenails were painted a glossy black.

Rub, rub, rub ... Pull, pull, pull ... Tug, tug, tug ...

"Ticklish, sweetie?" asked Jennifer with a smile in her voice.

"Um ... no. I mean, at least I didn't think I was. I ... I just liked the feel of your fingers. It's a nice sensation, very ... I don't know. A bit ticklish, yes. But, sort of ... nice, too."

"I know, sweetie," said Sharon. "It does feel nice, doesn't it? You've got sensitive feet – which is good. The nerves in your soles are very responsive. That's a good sign. You are likely to respond well to treatment – and enjoy it, too!"

"That's right," agreed Jennifer. "In fact, let's do our other little sensitivity test, Shaz."

Jennifer and Sharon moved to their side of the treatment bench (Jennifer to the left, Sharon to the right), level with Melanie's knees. Taking hold of Melanie's lower legs, Jennifer and Sharon raised them so that Melanie's lower legs were pointing up vertically, and her feet were about level with their chests.

James watched, enthralled, as Jennifer and Sharon then rapidly worked their well-practiced and expert fingers; their dancing fingertips a blur of lightning-speed movement upon Melanie's bare soles as they gently but firmly pressed and probed knowingly.

"Aaah! Aaaaahh! Stop!" squealed Melanie almost immediately. "Aaaah! Ha ha ha! Stop! Aaaaaahh!! Ha ha ha! Stop! Stop!!" she pleaded, almost in hysterics, though the sensitivity test had barely lasted ten seconds.

"Yep, Jen," said Sharon. "I think I can safely say that, in my considered opinion, having gently manipulated a few of Melanie's primary receptors, her feet are maybe just a mite sensitive."

"Yes, Shaz. That is my professional opinion, as well. After conducting my own experiment, I wholly concur with the findings of your test results. Ha ha ha!"

Melanie moaned softly, "My god, that was just ... horrible."

But she wasn't fooling anyone: Not Jennifer, not Sharon – and not James.

Rub, rub, rub ... Pull, pull, pull ... Tug, tug, tug ... Yank, yank, yank ...

"And, now that you've both had hold of my stinky feet," said Melanie, "you know what you'll have to do now, don't you? Wash your hands in disinfectant. I did warn you, how stinky they are."

Upon which, Sharon said, "We'll soon see."

In disbelief, James watched as Jennifer and Sharon both grabbed a tight hold of 'their' foot, buried their nose deep into the undersides of Melanie's now helplessly wiggling and splaying and scrunching toes, and took several long, deep inhalations.

"Aaahh! Aaaaahhhh!!" squealed Melanie, upon feeling her prospective employers' nostrils sniffing deeply between each of her pried-apart toes.

Sharon then said, "Hmm ... What are you getting, Jen?"

"Shaz, it's quite incredible ... So complex, so characterful – so sophisticated ... I'm getting the most delicious, and wonderfully aromatic blue-veined cheese ... with just a vague hint of wine vinegar. What about you, Shaz?"

"Mmmm ... Yes, Jen. I'm getting that, too. Such ripeness! It's just like the rich, flavoursome, thick ripe rind, that you only get on a good and well-matured Stilton ... and with just that subtle suggestion of a vinegary tang ... The fumes of the bouquet are so strong, and rich and creamy, that I can actually taste them, and they are lining my throat with a silky, lovely full-flavoured coating."