A Most Rewarding Boss Ch. 02

It had been a regular day at the office, until Jack picked up the phone to answer an internal call.

It was Karla.

"Jack, I need you in my office. I need to discuss something that's come up in a performance review." She smiled to herself.

A few moments later, Jack arrived. He was trying his best not to show the confusion he was feeling. He was confident - as close to certain as he could be - that there were no issues with his performance. Indeed, Karla had thanked him several times for the work he'd been putting in.

She made him wait a second, fixing her eyes on his, then with a slight touch of cruelty, quietly told him, "There's no review. I just want one of your foot massages."

A relieved Jack smiled; a sort of half smile, half snigger. He had known something was up.

"Alright then," he said. "You want one here, now?"

"Would I have called you in otherwise?" Karla snapped playfully.

"I guess not," Jack replied as he strode purposefully towards her. As he did so, Karla whipped her feet out of her shoes, and placed them on top of her desk, leaning back into her chair and wiggling her toes.

Jack drew up a chair so he was sitting opposite her, cupped his hand round her left heel and begin kneading away at her soles, gliding his fingers and thumbs up and down. Up and down. Round and round. Up and down. Round and round.

The softness of her soles were so inviting, almost impeccably smooth, and his fingers were more than willing to feel every inch of them. His touch was so precise, yet at the same time so firm and dreamy that on the other side of the desk, Karla had to fight to stop herself from drifting off.

He moved to her other foot, repeating the same strokes as Karla gently and quietly moaned her approval. He squeezed each of her toes in turn, gently, before guiding his fingers between her toes, pressing gently on the gaps between them, delicately treading the line between sensual massage and tickling.

This was one performance Karla would not have to review. She couldn't get enough of it, but now was not the time to let herself go. She dragged her feet away from his hands, pointing her toes and running them down his legs, back into her shoes.

In a heartbeat, she was back into work mode. "Thank you, Jack. That will be all."

Jack averted her gaze and scowled for a split-second before leaving the room. He had enjoyed every second of touching her feet, and he knew she knew it, and she was denying him more.

What he didn't know was she was denying herself just as much.

She let out a sigh, partly from relief, and partly from pleasure. Her feet had always been highly erogenous and when Jack was massaging them, licking them and sucking her toes, it was all she could do to stop herself reaching into her knickers and touching herself.

I wonder if this whole thing turns Jack on as much as it does me, she thought, without really considering how far she would go to endeavour to find out.

As for Jack, he took himself off to the rest room, thought briefly about nursing what remained of a semi-erection, before thinking better of it.

Jack's foot fetish had long been something he'd indulged. The girlfriends that he'd got intimate with had all felt the same sensations of having their feet massaged, their toes sucked, and their soles licked that Karla was getting. He'd enjoyed his fair share of feet - some younger women, some older women.

Plenty got him going about Karla's feet. Her advancing years meant that there were a few wrinkles here and there, but she had taken great care of herself, and Jack had been surprised to find just how smooth her soles were and how much give there was when he pressed her toes. She had shapely ankles, well-defined arches, and kept her nails trimmed and polished. If he were looking for a mature foot model, he would be hard-pressed to find anybody with better-looking feet.

She had a staggering array of shoes to show them off as well. Jack had perhaps not seen them all, but over the years they'd worked together he'd seen her in all sorts of pairs - from pumps to stilettos and knee-high boots. He'd often fantasised about licking her toes through the gaps in her open-toed shoes or jamming his tongue under her heel as she wore slingbacks.

Now he had an idea about what it felt like, were they fantasies anymore? For him, they were delightful, erotic premonitions.

He ran his hands down his face, sniffing what remained of the smell of Karla's feet before heading to the bathroom, washing them and getting back to work.