A Company of Women

Chelsea leaped down from the desk and adjusted her dress, her knees and solid calves filling out her boots.

"I'll keep 'em sweaty for you," she said.

"Not today," he answered.

"I see. Four days of foot funk isn't enough. You're bold. I like that." Chelsea stepped close. "Well, they're getting riper by the day. You come by when they're ripe enough for you."

She surprised him by giving his crotch a squeeze before turning on her heels and walking from the room. She wasn't beautiful yet she was assuredly sexy. He just had no interest in her feet.

"Oh," she said, peering back into the room. "Jen does want to see you. Right now if you're not in the middle of something."

He was in the middle of something; then again, he didn't want to get on Jen's bad side, just in case she had a bad side.

He waited for Chelsea to walk away before leaving his office and heading to Jen's office suite. Chelsea was there, her boots up on her desk.

She beckoned him close and whispered. "Whatever you do to her feet, you do for mine."

"I'm not doing anything with her feet," he tried to explain. He'd have to explain the same thing to Jen. A line had to be drawn.

"Well, you still owe me at least an hour of foot worship, though you can enjoy my feet as long as you want."

She winked at him as he walked to Jen's door and knocked.

"Come in," she told Eric, and he did as he was asked.

"Close the door," she told him, as she stood before him, leaning against his desk. She grinned. "I hope we didn't get off to the wrong foot, so to speak."

She approached, standing before him, her hand to his shoulder as if she were thinking of kissing him. "I really enjoyed what you did the other day. Believe me. Foot worship is one my favorites. They know I like it and don't get enough of it; but they wanted to have a little fun with it, so they offered to send you over if I was willing to get my feet extra smelly, which I did happily. I just never had a guy do my feet when they were so filthy and rank. And I didn't realize how much I'd love it. I really enjoyed working them in your face like that. Maybe you didn't enjoy it as much but it was the best hour I had all week. Maybe all month."

"I don't want to do this," he said, stepping away.

"Alright then, let me put in terms you understand," she said as she turned back to her desk. "You smelled my feet because you thought I could help you keep your job. Well, frankly I can. I can also be instrumental in getting you booted out of here."

Jen turned and smiled. Eric couldn't return the smile, not when he was being blackmailed.

"I think we can have a great relationship. You come here once maybe twice a week, worship my feet and then go on your way. We don't have to talk. You just get under my desk and do what you did to my feet two days ago."

"And if we don't?"

"I want you to stay, Eric. I really do. But what's in it for me? What's my incentive?"

Eric didn't have an answer.

"You want to thrive here. That's fine. But I get to have some fun with it."

She walked around her desk and took a seat.

"Do we have an understanding?"

Eric nodded, unable to think of a diplomatic way out.

"Well, what are you waiting for," she said gesturing him over. "When you enter, you'll come straight over here and lay down with your face there so I have easy access. When I'm done, you can get up and leave. But I'll tell you when you're done. By the way, your foot smelling was a little half-assed last time so we'll work on that today. And no, my feet aren't going to smell any better today. Same shoes. Same unwashed feet. Two days of extra sweat."

Eric laid himself down at her feet, his face her Klogs. She promptly lifting her legs until her shoes were resting on his chest.

"Now I don't want dainty, reluctant sniffs, I want big greedy sniffs like you can't get enough of smelling my foot funk."

Within seconds, she'd pried off her first shoe, her hot, greasy foot planted firmly on his face, her toes clamped over his nose. The putrid smell was even more nauseating than before as she wiggled her thick grubby toes. He could see flecks of dirt between her toes and under her toenails which gave off a sharp cheesy odor.

"Now smell my feet, boy," she ordered as he breathed deep.

"Better," she observed, sliding her sweaty toes up and over his nose, the ball of her foot pressed against his nostrils as she had him inhale again and again.

Her feet smelled worse than before and yet it was somehow more tolerable, as if he'd almost come to accept it. He gave her all the enthusiasm he could muster. And then there was still the other foot to sniff.

The second rush of foot stink knocked him flat, as she began sliding two damp, sweaty feet all over his face, her cheesy toes up against his nostrils as she demanded that he do a better job.

Somehow her feet were almost as filthy as before, although the callouses weren't as rough. The task was nowhere near as arduous as it was before, though he was still feeding on particles from her soles and from between her toes.

He must have made a face because she smacked his face hard with her foot. "Remember the rules, boy," she yelled.

For twenty minutes, he licked and sucked, at one point each foot shoved into his mouth as she had him work his tongue her toes. She moaned and smiled, taking pleasure in everything.

As he cleaned one foot, she slipped the other one under his shirt, her cleaned toes gliding over his chest and stomach; and when he turned his attentions to give her a foot rub, she continued letting her other foot play over his face and chest.

Just when he thought he was done, she chuckled to herself as she retrieve a shoe from the floor and placed it over his face so he could breathe inside it. The sharp, putrid aroma was eye-watering, but she hid him breathe it in for what felt like forever. And then she switched shoes, his mouth and nose completely covered by the shoe opening so it was all he could breathe in: the heavy, rotten stench of her well-worn Klogs.

"And when you're done, you'll get on your knees before me, kiss both of my feet and thank me for letting you worship them."

It was ridiculous, but words were nothing compared to clean her filthy feet with his mouth. He kissed her feet and thanked her for letting him worship her feet.

"When I want you back here, I'll have Chelsea arrange it. And, by the way, she thinks that anything I get, she should get. So she's gonna have you answer to her for two hours of foot worship. And if you thought my feet smelled awful, she's a pro when it comes to foot funk."

"Do you expect me to do her feet too?"

"Like I said, that's between you and her. But she is pretty insistent. Alright, I've got work to do. No more distractions."

With Jen turning her back to him, Eric walked to the door and stepped outside.

Chelsea was waiting for him, her legs crossed up on the desk. Next to her was Val, pleased to see Eric emerge from Jen's office.

"Is everyone getting foot rubs here but me?" said Val.

"Not me," said Chelsea. "Not yet anyway."

"Well we should have a policy that's fair, so everyone gets a chance," insisted Val. "I'll talk to Jen about it."

Was there no end to this madness? thought Eric as he walked from the suite. Val grabbed him by the arm. "Wait a minute you."

Eric turned.

"I have a pretty hard working team in accounts and I'd like to take care of them so why don't we fit in a time when you can come by and give some nice foot rubs for our team. You being our resident foot massage expert. Today's Friday, which would be a nice treat if you can come by. Why wait until next week? Why don't we say four o'clock? They won't be expecting foot rubs this afternoon and they've been working so hard."

"I don't know if I can," he said, longing for the safety of his office.

"I'll bring it up with Jen. We can arrange someone else to help with whatever you're working on. Do you have a deadline today?"

"Not today," he answered, though he still had his work cut out to make a better impression on Amanda.

"Oh, well, then you can make. We'll see you at 4:00."

Eric shook his head but he was at a loss for words.

"And don't tell my team," Val told Chelsea. "It's gonna be a surprise."

"My lips are sealed," answered Chelsea as Eric slipped outside. He had no intention of rubbing the feet of the girls in accounting. He'd leave early if need be.

Returning to his office, he realized it wasn't worth the risk of staying longer than necessary. Knowing his luck, someone would be pestering him for something he should never have been expected to give, so he packed his things up and slipped out a rear staircase.

The weekend gave Eric plenty of time to reflect on his situation. He'd secured his footing at the firm, though that may have been contingent on smelling Jen's feet from time to time. Could he live with that? He could, though it was his hope she'd lose interest.

He was in control of his fate, not the women at the pr firm. He could leave anytime.

MONDAY

Monday morning began auspiciously. He heard good reports form the weekend event for his client, and a meeting of the account executives revealed he was keeping up nicely.

As usual, Amanda was less enthused about his performance. He'd been expecting her congratulations when she called him into her office later that Monday morning. Instead, she raked him over the coals.

"Well, there were enough mix ups on Friday evening and you were the source. You were supposed to keep everyone in sync so I can't blame anyone but you for the confusion."

"I thought it went well," he said.

"Because I fixed everything after your complete incompetence. Can't you do anything right?"

"I thought I double checked everything," he answered weakly, his mojo all but vanished.

"Well, we'll have to triple check. Are you smart enough to do this job or are you just another dumb jerk who could never keep up with us?"

"I ..." he began, trying to think of an excuse, though he wasn't sure what went wrong.

"Drop your pants," she barked.

"What?"

"Do you have a hearing problem too?" she roared. "I said drop your pants."

"Why?" he asked.

"Do you really have to ask why? I give you clear instructions and you ask why even though you're this close to getting escorted out of here."

Eric hesitated. He couldn't believe she was serious.

She sprang to her feet and approached, adjusting her glasses before grabbing his belt. "Drop ... your ... pants ... down to the ankles."

Eric couldn't do it. But it was Amanda who grabbed him by the belt and tugged.

"Do I have to do everything for you?" she demanded as she undid his belt and, unbuttoned his fly and unzipped his pants before giving them a slight tug. They fell down, Eric blushing with shame."

"Viola," said Amanda with a dismissive shake of the head. "Was that so difficult?"

Resuming her seat, she scrutinized him over her glasses. "Now how does that feel?"

"Humiliating," he told her. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"Exactly," she replied with a grin. "Now shuffle over here and drop to your knees."

He shuffled like a penguin, his pants still at his ankles, before dropping to his knees near her chair. She swiveled and with one of her patent leather heels, slammed it against his chest before raising the sole of the other shoe to his face. She began wiping it all over his face.

"This is about how much respect I have for you right now," she informed him with a half-smile.

"Now stick out your tongue," she barked. He did as she asked.

As she began sliding the sole of her shoe over his tongue, she chuckled. "No, not much respect at all, you shoe licking dumbass. You were supposed to stand tall and proud and here you are without your pants licking the soles of my filthy shoes."

She then switched shoes and wiped the sole of the other shoe over his tongue. "I don't know how much lower you can get, but there's still room to drop. I'd suggest you shape up soon."

Kicking off a shoe, she pressed her nylon foot over his face, toes clutching his nose. "So what's all this foot smelling I'm hearing about. You like smelling stinky feet?"

He tried turning her head, but her warm nylon toes were clamped securely over his nose. The pungent stench was more powerful than before, a hint of milky sourness coupled with worn leather.

When he inhaled her foot odor, she chuckled again.

"Now I see why they like it," she mused. "It's kind of fun. You like that smell?"

He inhaled again. It was better than being yelled at.

She began rubbing her nylon sole over his face before pushing his face back and dropping her foot to the ground. "You're probably enjoying that too much."

"Well, pull up your pants and get back to work," she barked as she eyed him with a scowl.

Eric quickly leapt to his feet, pulled up his pants and ran to the door.

"Robyn will be back tomorrow and I want to make sure we're all making a good impression."

Eric stepped outside, relieved to be out of earshot. As usual, Steph, grinning as if she'd overheard everything. He turned away and walked back to his office.

He had a good chunk of the afternoon to work on his accounts: making calls and filling out reports. By 4:00, he got an email marked urgent. It was from Jen asking him to hurry to her office suite. He was in no mood for her horrid, cheesy feet, but he didn't have much choice.

Upon entering, the door slammed. Chelsea was nowhere to be found but there were three women, moderately attractive and medium build, standing around with arms crossed.

"You come when Jen calls, is that it?" asked Val, stepping from behind him.

Eric figured these were the women from accounting, the ones he'd stood up when he left early for the weekend.

"I'm sorry about Friday. Something urgent came up."

"A promise was a promise," said Val, standing before him, hands at her hips. She was seething.

"Where's Jen?" he asked, turning to her door. The hostility of the room was unnerving.

"Out today, and Chelsea is on an errand. It seems she's been getting her feet hot and sweaty for you all week and you've been blowing her off. You've been blowing a lot of people off."

"Who do you think you are?" demanded Leslie, mid-twenties and amply built, her feet stuffed into a tight pair of low heel pumps.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Do you want those foot rubs?" he asked.

"Foot rubs?" asked Val. "That all you're willing to give us when you're licking dirty feet, smelling stinking feet, nose to toes. And all you offer us are some foot rubs. Why don't we get our feet worshipped too? You like smelly feet but you think we put in long hours here and our feet don't stink? You think we wouldn't have fun having you smell them? We can get our feet just as ripe, maybe more so; so if anyone's feet should be in your face it should be ours. We work hard and we deserve some fun too."

"They didn't give me a choice. I never wanted to smell their feet."

"But you did," said one of the assistants, Stacey, standing tall in her flats. The girls weren't overweight but they were sporty and solidly built. "You're smelling their feet. Why not ours? Are we not good enough?"

"Just Jen and Amanda," he explained, but there was no convincing them.

"Liar," shouted Kelly, the mousy one, barefoot in high heel loafers. He was beginning to notice their footwear, the more they spoke of him smelling their feet. He couldn't believe it was happening.

A fifth woman in Converse sneakers was standing in front of the door, arms crossed. She was a tall girl, her arms crossed. There was no escaping. Diplomacy was required.

Val, in a shirt, leggings and booties, grabbed Eric by the arm. "Give us one good reason why we should wait to get our feet serviced and everyone else gets theirfeet worked on?"

Eric was at a loss.

"Get him, girls," she said, stepping aside as the other four converged on him, grabbing and pulling him as they kicked at his knees, yanking him to the floor and holding him down.

"Stop this. I can rub everyone's feet and ..."

Val produced a roll of duct tape and pulled a piece off before applying it to his mouth.

Pulling off a long piece, she wound it around his wrist, tying him to the foot of Chelsea's desk. She did the same for the other one.

Eric was furious, squirming all he could; but it was no use. The girls were strong and they were determined to punish him for something.

Once Val duct taped his ankles together and tied them to a chair, she sat on the chair and gazed down at him. The women looked pleased as they gazed down at him.

He tried to squirm free but it was no use.

"We don't just want foot rubs, boy," she said, resting her feet on his chest. "We want it all, full hot, sweaty feet in your face worship and we're going to get it all. You're going to do the right thing and smell the feet of these hard working women and you're going to clean them spotless, just like you've been doing for the others."

The other women clapped and cheered. "Right on," chirped Vanessa, the tall girl with the big feet.

"We want what's fair. You worship smelly, dirty feet. Today you worship our smelly, dirty feet. Right ladies?"

The women cheered.

"We planned this Friday, so we've had plenty of time to get our feet nice and ripe, right?"

More cheering.

"But first, you take care of Chelsea. She told us how you've been ignoring her and how she's been asking you time and time again. Well, she won't be waiting any longer. You're gonna smell her feet and when you're done, you'll do our feet too. Got it?"

Eric hated them, even before they began stepping on him and pressing their dirty soles over his face. It was contempt, and he did nothing to deserve it.

"She's coming," someone remarked and the room ran, en masse, from the room.

They left him alone, but he couldn't manage to extricate himself from the tape. He could barely move, his arms spread eagle and his legs under the chair.

A door opened and someone gasped. It was Chelsea.

He could see her booted feet step close, as she reached for something on her desk. They'd left her a note.

"Sorry I played so hard to get," she read. "But I was only waiting for the right time. Your feet have been getting sweaty through the week. I could have waited longer, but it wasn't fair to you. The women in accounting have helped me out so I could smell your feet as much as you like. Though I promised to worship their feet too, so hopefully you can share me."

"That's so sweet," she said, slumping onto the chair, crossing her booted feet on his chest. "I thought you were ignoring me."

Eric tried to speak through the duct tape, hoping she'd let him go, but she seemed uninterested in his moaning as she began unfastening the clasps on her boots.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," she mused with a grin. "I knew you were a true stinky foot connoisseur."

Eric grunted through the tape, but there was no communicating with Chelsea, who continued the laborious process of unfastening and loosening her boots.

And then he smelled it. The stale, aroma of ratty sneakers and crusty gym socks, something redolent of an old locker room with a hint of aged French cheese. She proudly unsheathed a bare foot, creased from being wedged inside the boot for so long, flecked with dirt from the rotting leather, her soles blackened and her toenails probably filthy too, though her black nailpolish would have concealed it.

Chelsea gleefully slammed her slender and wrinkled size 10 foot down on his face, her toes long and squirmy as they cupped his nose and squeezed.

"Mmmn. Smell that."

The stench up close was beyond foul: old sweat and vinegar, enough to make his eyes water. With his mouth gagged, he had no choice but to inhale deep and long. He coughed and in the struggle to catch his breath, inhaled again and again.