The morning rush had already been hectic, and squeezing through a throng of people equally hell bent on making the same train, to the same station, at the same time; Amy Lynn Steele felt glad to just have a seat as she plunked herself down on the hard plastic and watched the outskirts of Boston zip past. She had done it now for the past sixty five days, and while she was beginning to get used to the routine, she was also getting used to seeing the same people aboard the crowded train.
The woman beside her was one of the people she often commuted with, but unlike the previous days where the woman scowled, or talked business too loudly on her cellular phone, today she smiled. Amy was not sure if that came about because of the bright summer weather Boston was experiencing, or if it was her change of attire. Shedding the typical neutral colors of her knee-length skirt, blouse, nylon stockings and high heels, Amy noted that instead she wore a pink and white sundress that looked airy and light. She was about to push herself forward a bit to see what the lady had on for shoes when the woman helped her investigation by crossing her legs. It was done nonchalantly, but Amy was shocked at what she saw. The woman was barefoot.
For Bostonians, the local news media had been abuzz with Barefoot Day for the past several weeks. Some television stations claimed the day originated because of some boycott surrounding a major shoe manufacturer overpaying an athlete, while other stations claimed it was a nudist camp in Florida pushing their acceptance agenda. Whoever it was that first proclaimed the first day of summer to be Barefoot Day never expected so much controversy.
Immediately the television stations were overrun with Emergency Room Physicians, Nurses and Podiatrists calling for a ban on the day. Safety was their primary concern, but as with most issues in Boston, the more negative publicity the idea generated, the more popular the idea became. Fearing the worst, many hospitals added extra staff to their emergency rooms fearing a rash of foot injuries from having so many go without shoes. It was a hard point to argue against; Amy reasoned this as she looked down at the soles of her fellow commuter and noticed they were blackened from the grime of the city streets.
Yesterday the argument by the shoe defenders seemed so logical, but now Amy was not so sure. Looking around the train car she noticed two other bare foot commuters. Their demeanors were much like the woman sitting next to her, happy almost and certainly chipper. Amy had expected the barefoot people toiling about the city to be the college kids, or from more liberal backgrounds, never in her mind did she expect everyday working people to embrace the day so whole heartily.
As Amy contemplated the reasoning for their more inspiring demeanor, she thought it was perhaps because the day offered a fun change to a boring routine, or perhaps it was because the day offered freedom from society's unwritten dress code. Either way Amy's own high heeled pumps suddenly seemed cumbersome. Deep down inside Amy knew her high heels were not bothering her any more than normal, but as she got off the train and walked the two blocks to her office building, kicking off her shoes and going barefoot for the day began to sound appealing.
Stepping into the main lobby, Amy departed from her usual routine of heading straight for the elevators and whisking herself straight towards her office. Instead, she side-stepped in the lobby and approached a small alcove filled with several plush loveseats where clients could be met in a comfortable atmosphere.
Finding a seat on one of the leather couches, Amy set her briefcase beside her as if she was preparing to meet a client. Instead she crossed her legs, placed her hand firmly on her elevated high heel shoe, and slipped the uncomfortable shoe from off her foot. As she did so, the heel of the shoe ran across her beige nylons, making a zipping sound as leather ran across nylon. She looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed the sound or what she was doing. Upon only seeing people steadily work their way towards the elevator, Amy was encouraged to slip off the second shoe.
It was the exact same procedure as the first shoe except that it required Amy to set her now all-but-bare foot on the floor. She was still wearing her nylons so the cool slate floor was tempered slightly. She was too preoccupied with slipping off her other shoe to pay much attention to the floor however. Even with both shoes off, Amy paid little attention to the floor underneath her meagerly dressed feet. That was because she was contemplating her next move.
After looking around the lobby one more time, Amy felt secure enough to slip her hand up under her skirt, find the hemline of her pantyhose and pulled them quickly down her legs. She was sure she had put more than one run in her stockings from her hurried removal, but scoffed at that small cost as she tugged them off her feet, the stretchy fabric making a slight snapping sound as she hurried to stuff her shoes and pantyhose into her briefcase.
It was only then that Amy felt the full effects of her actions. The slate floor of the lobby had been no doubt buffed to a bright polish by the night time janitor, but with nightfall also came the cool chilly air of early spring. Completely barefoot, Amy felt every ripple in the natural rock flooring, and felt the coolness well up into her feet. She also saw the contrast of her bare feet and the natural flooring, her pale white feet, complete with bright red toenail polish contrasting greatly against the dark blue, almost midnight black, slate flooring.
Taking a deep breath, and knowing everyone in the office building would soon realize she was barefoot; and would be going barefoot for the whole day; Amy stood up and strolled across the lobby with determination.
No one seemed to notice until she found the elevator and rode it to her floor with her colleagues. Stuffed inside the square hoisting box Amy had to be wary of people stepping on her feet with stilettos heels and polished up penny loafers. True to tradition, no one spoke, but looked humbly at the floor as the floors whisked by with the audible beep that indicated each floor. Only one man seemed to notice her lack of footwear, and it did not escape Amy that this man strategically placed himself beside her no matter how many people got on or off the elevator. When she looked up to see if she could catch the man smiling, she was shocked to learn that it was her own boss.
Now that a few hours had passed by, Amy was not surprised when he paged her asking for her to meet him in his office. Amy took a deep breath, then turned the knob of her boss's door and slowly swung it open. She knew what he wanted to talk to her about, but decided to pretend like she did not know, and thus padded barefoot across the plush rug towards a chair on the other side of his desk. Amy feigned a smile then sat down, sitting up straight and tried to look professional even as she crossed her legs nonchalantly. As she did, she watched her boss's eyes follow her movements, his eyes never moving from the arch her bare foot made as her leg crossed over the other and then hovered her foot in mid-air.
"Thanks for coming in Ms Steele," he said handing her a single sheet of paper that obviously had been copied from another document. "Please read that if you would."
For a moment, Amy scanned the document seeing that it was a paragraph taken from the company rule book about dress codes. The yellow high-lighted passages were regarding the use of appropriate foot wear. After reading it, Amy still held the paper, but looked at her boss as he started to speak again.
"It's pretty clear isn't it; appropriate shoes must be worn while at work? Obviously you are not wearing any, and haven't been all morning. Do you mind me asking you why?"
"I thought since its barefoot day, it would be alright?"
"Really? Well I forgot about today being barefoot day, but to tell you the truth Amy, I kind of expected a different answer from you. One of the reasons I hired you was because you don't mind going against the grain, and saying how you really feel and not just repeating what you think I want to hear. I kind of thought you would say the dress code was restricting or you just liked being carefree...."
"Well if you want me to be truthful," she asked looking at him with a slight grin?
"Well personally I do like being a little care free, and the dress code is a bit strict about making us wear such uncomfortable shoes, but I don't think this has anything to do with the dress code. I think you like me going barefoot. In fact I think you like me going barefoot maybe a little too much. I realized that in the elevator this morning."
"I mean its okay. A lot of guys like woman going barefoot. Hell my ex-husband liked it, so I went barefoot around him all the time. I didn't mind, but I think that is the real reason why you called me in here. It has nothing to do with the dress code. I have seen others in this place violate the dress code in far worse ways and nothing was said."
"Well if it's only for this day," he said then watched as Amy took her legs and placed them on his desk. It was such a simple act and yet she grinned as her boss began to shake since her feet were outstretched mere inches from his hands. He reached out to touch her feet, but as soon as he fingers got within an inch of them, he quickly withdrew them as if her bare feet were a trap waiting to spring on him.
"Amy if you're going to do that, then yes, you will have to wear shoes."
"I'll put my shoes on, afterwards," she said and with a grin got up out of her chair and slowly walked to the door. Locking it, she gave her boss a wink and then disappeared into his bathroom for a moment. He was not sure what she was doing until she returned, her hand overturned and cupped, a dollop of hand washing soap pooled in her palm. Using her free hand, Amy pushed aside the papers on his desk and quickly jumped up on the desk.
"Amy," he said, but while he meant it almost as a rebuttal, as Amy placed her bare feet into his crotch and toyed with him, he began to squirm from delight. He was also getting hard, his erection making a slight bulge in his pants that made Amy realize she was reading her boss perfectly.
"Pull down you pants and I'll give you a footjob. It will have to be quick, but I don't mind. I gave my ex-husband plenty of these. He called them Amyjobs," she said with a laugh.
Amy's boss was too engrossed in his good fortune to disobey. With a feverish pace, he undid the snap of his pants and pulled at his zipper all before gripping the waistband of his pants and underwear and pulling them down in one fell swoop. As the clothing cleared his knees, his erection sprang free, a jumble of wiry hair, droopy balls and a cock that sprang out in an arch, pulsating from the pleasure of having his one fetish be realized so openly.
He tried to look up at Amy and look her in the eyes, but Amy was already using the liquid soap to lather up the soles of her feet. She knew there were better choices but in his office their lubricating methods were reduced to using what they had on hand. Still, when she was sure her feet were coated enough with the liquid soap to defile friction, Amy granted her boss the look in the eyes that he was after. Her slight smile said it all, and that was she understood his need, his desire, his fetish...and that despite the office being the less than ideal location to grant him that pleasure, she had no qualms about letting him enjoy her feet.
With a lift of her feet, Amy heard her boss let out a low moan as her feet touched his cock for the very first time. It was a sound that was uttered from the pit of his stomach, his diaphragm emitting the sound of a man who was immensely pleasured, and that pleasure only grew as Amy lipped her feet tightly around his shaft, first lubricating his entire length with the instep of her feet, then maneuvering them slightly back so that she captured him between the bottom of her toes and the balls of her feet. In this way she could apply more pressure, stroke longer and flex her toes so that the feeling did not become stagnant and repetitive.
Instinctually, her boss reached out to hold her feet, rubbing some of the liquid soap on the topside of her feet, but also controlling the movement somewhat. Amy was convinced she was maintaining the right pace and pressure, but had no reservations about letting him speed up and slow the pace according to the deep guttural pleasures that were undoubting welling up inside him.
Amy could see this on the mans glazed eyes. Just the way he held an erotic expression, and from the way his eyes glazed over, Amy knew she was doing her job exceedingly well. Knowing full well her timed strokes and heavy toe flexing would inevitably get him to erupt upon her feet, Amy also knew men's emotions, and knew them well. With one more trick up her sleeve, and nothing really to do with her hands, Amy placed them on the hemline of her dress and pulled the hemline upward. Momentarily, she lost contact with her boss's engorged shaft, but this was rewarded by glorious peeks at his secretary's s well manicured sex. He smiled at the sight of her slit, coming in and out of view in time with her long feet strokes upon his shaft. Amy furthered his pleasure by wiggling her arms out of the bodice of her dress, slowly unbuttoning the front, then pulling down her top so that her breasts were exposed. A quick tug at her bra gave her the nudity she was after. Amy knew she did not have the ideal feminine form but hoped her eagerness to undress, and the added visual stimulation; coupled with the ministrations upon his cock, would get her boss off quickly. Already the time seemed to be lagging as both of them were in a very uncompromising situation.
"Amy," he began to say quietly as lust began to overwhelm him...
"Shhhh Hon, just enjoy it," she said with a grin and meant every word, for she too was enjoying the sex.
Despite her nudity, her sexual act with a married man, and knowing full well every moment of this was wrong, Amy swooned with delight. Never in her life had she seen such a powerful man become felled by lust. The very man before her, who controlled so many careers, now squirmed under the pleasure pressure of her bare, soap soiled toes.
Knowing he was close to ejaculation, Amy fanned the flames by splaying her legs just a bit, letting the man get an open look at her exposed sex. As soon as she saw his eyelids roll back and his eye lids shut, Amy quickly repositioned her feet. Placing them over the head of his cock, she had just enough time to capture the head of his penis between the ends of her toes and the ball of her foot. He tried to pry her feet off to a better position, but Amy held them firmly and then felt the powerful eruption as six blasts jettisoned into the cracks around her toes. Quickly she brought her other foot up and used the tops of her toes. In this way she contained the eruption and kept the mess to merely an ooze as his powerful blasts slowed and finally just dribbled out of his prick.
Amy watched with delight as a broad smile began to creep across her boss's face. Even though she had not achieved any sexual fulfillment for herself, she had long understood the importance of satisfying a man with a fetish fantasy and knew it was something her boss would always remember.
Amy swooned with delight at that thought, even as she grabbed her pair of pumps out of her briefcase and slid them on her feet. Walking around with heels soiled by her boss was not exactly what Amy wanted to do for the rest of the day, but she knew the act would impress him nonetheless. Slowly she pulled her bra and dress up over her chest and then pushed her hemline down to a more lady-like level, only then did Amy speak, and when she did so, she did it softly.
"Wait a second and I'll get you cleaned up."
Silently she chided herself for not grabbing some tissues earlier from the bathroom, but it was a quick retrieval in any case as she came back and began to rub the combination sperm and soap from off her boss's steadily decreasing erection. She was as through as she was dutiful, and after it was entirely clean, she leaned over and gave the head of it just a small kiss.
"Thank you for letting me do that. It's been a long time since I gave a man a footjob."
"I think I should be thanking you," he said. As he said it, Amy took a piece of note paper and started scribbling on it with a pen he had lying on the desk. Handing it to him, he could not help but inquire. "Six thirty seven Garland road, what's that?"
"It's my home address. Barefoot day doesn't get over until midnight you know," she said with a big grin.