Closeted

Author's Note: this story was written for the gay shoe fetishist.

***

Cameron hated that he was spending his summer in his old high school. But even with financial aid, college bills were stacking up and his parents had made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't be able to rely on them for a financial buffer of any kind. If he was going to have a functioning car to drive himself to class next semester, he needed every employment opportunity he could get, and joining the summer custodian staff at Wheatland High was as good a place to grab a paycheck as any. That coupled with his late night movie theater gig was enough to accumulate some cash.

Cameron somewhat miserably brought the mop down with wet thwock. Artlessly, he proceeded to thrust it back and forth, watching the soggy gray head dragging across the tiles like a drowned shitzu. These halls weren't exactly saturated with good memories for him. He wasn't particularly athletic, didn't fit in with the computer science geeks, and he wasn't a drama or band nerd. He had spent four years here just...surviving.

"You're just pushing the dirt around doing it that way," a voice sliced through the cluster of misery bunching up in his mind. Cameron turned to see Jesse leaning against a locker, hands in his pockets and watching him with an expression that was a blend of bemusement and mild disgust. Cameron felt minor irritation, but he was still new on the job and Jesse technically oversaw him, even though he was only a handful of years older and had never attended a day of college.

"Oh," he mumbled. "How am I supposed to do it?"

Jesse pushed himself away from the lockers and extended a hand for the mop. Cameron relinquished the handle and watched as Jesse deftly dunked the head in the bucket, squeezed it through the wringer, and then began to arc it back and forth in a series or quick, swirly switchbacks. "You have to mop towards you and without lifting. That way, any dust that was left behind by the dry mop will get picked up. Floors'll look like shit if we wax crap into them."

"Okay." Cameron was partially annoyed at how perfect Jesse was at everything, and partially in awe. He was attractive in a way Cameron knew he probably never would be. The rakish way his uncombed hair clumped up in attractive wavy locks, the cropped t-shirts that showed his curvy biceps as he drew the mop handle back and forth. And of course, there were the shoes.

Jesse had a seemingly endless supply of sneakers that looked like they had never been worn, in spite of the fact that he mopped and waxed floors all day. Today blue and white Air Jordan's with black swooshes and laces stepped backwards toward him as Jesse showed Cameron that he could even mop better than he could. Yesterday, it had been a handsome pair of all white Under Armour running shoes. The day before, retro-looking suede Reeboks. All of them flawless, all of them punctuating Jesse's muscular legs with very little help of no-show socks.

Cameron took the mop back from Jesse and nodded his head. "Thanks. I'll do it like that." Jesse clicked his tongue and made a little gun with his finger in acknowledgment before he stalked off. Cameron watched him leave. He was so fucking arrogant. Yet that made him even hotter. Cameron hated himself for being attracted to him and even more for wanting to be him. Being gay was a mess. Being a closeted gay was almost unbearable.

He plunged the mop into the bucket, wrung it out, and then did his best to emulate Jesse's moves, knowing that his arms didn't bulge like his, and his own beat-to-hell Adidas didn't look remotely sexy as he backed his way down the hall.

That evening, Cameron lay on his bed and feverishly pumped his fist up and down on his cock as he thought about Jesse. He saw the powder blue soles of the Air Jordan's on the hall tile as he stepped back. Watched Jesse in his mind's eye as he entered an entire room lined with racks of immaculate shoes and selected that particular pair for the day, carefully sliding them on his feet, his no-shows disappearing behind the tall padded collars and that little crease that ran along his calf muscle rippling as he bent to draw up the laces. In his mind, Jesse turned and looked at him in a bored kind of way, as though looking into the lens of a movie camera, and he glared at him until Cameron drew in his breath with a hiss and creamy semen jumped over his hand and stomach.

The following day did not start much differently. Another long stretch of stripped hallway tile stretched before him like a dull highway ushering him toward a dismal future. Jesse had stopped by briefly to supervise and stood in quiet satisfaction as he observed that Cameron had successfully adopted the signature arc-and-swirl technique with the mop. He announced he would be applying a second coat of wax to yesterday's hall if he needed anything, and left. Cameron watched him go, today's shoes--a pair of cream Puma running shoes with orange and navy accents--softly clomping around the corner.

Twenty monotonous minutes later, Cameron had reached the end of the hall. Leaning the handle of the mop against a trash can, he went in search of Jesse for his next menial task of the day. When he approached the hall he had mopped yesterday, he found it barricaded off with a few chairs strung with masking tape and a paper proclaiming "wet wax" scrawled in fading marker. Jesse was not in view, but the tang of the floor sealer in the air--a little like burnt sugar--told Cameron he could not have gone far. That's when Cameron spotted his Pumas parked along the wall near the barricade. His heart skipped a beat.

Shoes were never worn during the applications of wax because the previous layers--while dry--were not yet fully cured. While Cameron had seen Jesse in his socks performing the task before, he had never been alone with his abandoned shoes. He glanced around to confirm that no one was nearby, and then bent down and seized a shoe. Honestly, it was hot just holding it. Cameron savored the feeling of the meshy upper under his fingers, picturing how they shimmered under the day-bright hall lights when they bent as Jesse walked. It was a slip-on design, the opening yawning wide at the heel like an opening crocus. Cameron put it to his face and breathed in the scent of Jesse's sweat mingled with the rubbery smell of the soles.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jesse demanded from behind.

Cameron whipped around, wide-eyed and horrorstruck to see him standing in his no-shows with a screwed up look of disgust on his face.

"Nothing. I, uh, finished the hall, and--." As Cameron spluttered, Jesse ripped the Puma from his grasp.

"What are you? Some sort of perv?" he demanded.

Cameron opened his mouth, willing some sort of response to materialize on his lips, but his retreating hard-on gave away his secret before he had a chance to speak. Jesse glanced at his shorts and slowly raked his eyes up toward Cameron's. To Cameron's surprise, his face relaxed. But a sneer curled on his lips.

"Oh, I see. That's exactly what you are." He shook his head slightly as though in extreme disappointment. "Start wiping down lockers in the science wing hall before I'm convinced you need to work somewhere else."

Cameron shuffled away, heat scorching his cheeks. But just before he rounded the corner, he turned back and watch as Jesse jammed his black ankle-socked foot into the Puma, mashing his heel against the lip of the shoe until it finally popped up over his Achilles like a fat lip. Cameron's erection throbbed on as he headed for the science hall in disgrace.

To his relief, he hadn't seen Jesse for the rest of the afternoon while he tirelessly ran a damp rag over 85 salmon-colored louvered doors. His arm ached and his fingertips were puckered and pale with damp as he clocked out in the mechanical room that doubled as the custodial staff lounge. When he turned to leave, Jesse's frame filled the doorway.

"Supply closet, perv," he commanded, indicating the dark little room behind him that they used for storing rolls of paper towels and clean mop heads.

Cameron trained his eyes on the narrow door over Jesse's shoulder before daring to look him in the eye for the first time that afternoon. "Can it wait until tomorrow? I gotta go since--"

Jesse cut him off, placing a cream Puma on a chair next to him and further barring his path to the hall. "Do you want to even come back tomorrow?" The was shockingly little malice in his voice, which compelled Cameron to answer.

"Well, yeah--"

Jesse moved aside and gestured grandly to the supply closet. "Then after you."

Cameron reluctantly stepped into the cramped room. It smelled like the musty fibers of the mop yarn and the room was washed in the cold blue light of a flickering compact fluorescent that tinkled like it contained an angry wasp. The orange pull loops on Jesse's sneakers were the brightest color in the room as he pulled the door shut and turned to face him. The room felt like it had no oxygen. Even the sounds were completely soaked up by the contents of the room, making Jesse's voice seem edgy and dead when he spoke.

"So you like my shoes, mop boy?"

Cameron's heart hammered in his chest, a dull thud that pulsed in his ears and shook his very eyes, causing the room to look like it was breathing. What did Jesse want from him?

"Look man, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

Jesse took a step closer, the soles of his shoes creaking faintly on the cement floor. "Oh yeah you do, perv." He voice was sotto voce, but Cameron could hear daggers. "So I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm here to make all your dreams come true."

Cameron shrank against the steel shelving behind him, his one hand splaying across the scratchy surface of the recycled paper towels.

"What do you mean?"

Jesse quirked a grin and bent down, removing one of the Puma's from his feet. It made a hollow whisper as it slid from his sock. He extended it out to him, waving the opening tantalizing close to his face. "Don't you want to finish what you started?"

Cameron tried to push past him. "Jesse, knock it off. Let me go." But Jesse sidestepped and intercepted him, thrusting the Puma into his face. Before Cameron could react, before he could try to claw at the shoe before him, his nose was plunged into the warmth of Jesse sneaker. The soft lining on the heel cupped his chin and Cameron had inhaled the fragrance of Jesse's foot. It was yeasty, and mixed with the pungent bite of the synthetic materials. Cameron's cock instantly groaned for more even as his lungs screamed that he needed clean air.

Even as he snapped his head back in retreat, Jesse taunted him by smashing the shoe further against his nose. "Aw, come on mop boy. Have some more. You like it. I know you like it. Your cock doesn't lie."

Cameron finally brought his hand down on the shoe and smacked it away.

"What the fuck, Jesse?"

Jesse cocked his head and squinted. "You should be thanking me. Aren't I giving you exactly what you wanted?"

Cameron struggled to respond. "What I want is to go home."

Jesse leaned against the door. "Sure thing, mop boy. Right after we take care of your little problem."

"I don't have a problem!" Cameron cried, frustrated at how he sounded like an indignant child.

"Sure you do," Jesse started purring, as though appeasing a stubborn toddler. "You've got your little prick there all excited." He brought the Puma up and probed at Cameron's bulge with the toe. "We can't let you go without seeing to that."

Cameron looked at Jesse in disbelief as the sneaker nudged his throbbing cock, letting a small release of precum into his underwear.

"What do you want from me?" He practically whispered.

Jesse was relaxed. "To see you cum, dude." He brought the shoe back up and offered it to Cameron, holding it out with the opening toward Cameron. It was more than an invitation. "Breathe," he commanded.

Cameron's fight/flight response was smashing against other animal urges, which seemed to be winning out. Besides--what were the chances he could fight his way out of the closet? Jesse was much bigger than he was. Maybe the way out was to give in. And maybe, just maybe, the way to saving face was to play along unabashedly. He looked at Jesse squarely.

"Fine. But on your foot."

Jesse's eyebrows shot up. "Pushy little fucker," he murmured. But a smile played at his lips as he bent down to replace the shoe.

"No," Cameron interrupted. "I'll do it." He squatted before Jesse's foot.

"Yeah," Jesse agreed, his grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, I bet you will." Cameron pried the shoe open with his fingers as if they were slender shoe horns, feeling the damp warmth of the insoles on his fingertips as Jesse slid his foot into the shoe. Cameron's cock started to smolder with a growing heat. He peeled back the tongue of Jesse's Puma and bowed his face into it, allowing the sweaty cotton of the ankle sock to brush the tip of his nose as he inhaled Jesse's fragrance deeply. "Oh, you love that, don't you?" Jesse needled as he looked down in mild fascination.

Cameron wanted to run his tongue over Jesse's salty ankles, but he leaned back and feigned nonchalance.

"It's not bad. I've enjoyed better." He shrugged, but his valiant erection protested otherwise.

Jesse didn't buy it. "Bullshit, mop boy. Your dick is jumping out of your fucking pants."

Cameron looked up at him defiantly. "And what about that interests you, Jesse? You seem awfully concerned about my dick. Is there something you want to sha--?" His sarcastic jab was interrupted by the Puma that Jesse slammed into his crotch. While the shoe's tip smashed his balls, his straining shaft came to rest on the upper. Pain and pleasure mixed like the violent thumps that accompany the glitter of fireworks. Cameron doubled over, his forehead coming against Jesse's leg.

Jesse leaned down, pulling Cameron's head back by twining his fingers in his hair. "Shut up and cum for me, perv. It's what we both want, so get on with it already."

"This is sexual assault," Cameron hissed as the echoes of pain reverberated through his body.

Jesse seemed to flinch slightly. He stepped back, pulling his foot from between Cameron's legs. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Go ahead and leave. If that's what you really want. I won't stop you. But I better never find you even looking at my shoes again, mop boy."

Cameron struggled to his feet, then stopped halfway in a wobbly crouch. The thing was...Jesse was dead right. This is what he wanted. It was the stuff of countless fantasies born in his bed and in the shower. Would it be so bad to let it play out? It wasn't like Jesse was going to tell anyone.

The hesitation hadn't escaped Jesse's notice. "What is it, perv? You see something you like, don't you?" A grin oozed slowly across his face. "Holy fuck. You're choosing to stay, aren't you?"

Cameron sat down on the concrete and extended his legs in front of him, one on either side of Jesse's feet. He looked up and shot Jesse a deliberately bland look. "Want to shut the hell up and make this happen or what?"

Jesse narrowed his eyes as he considered Cameron. He placed his foot on Cameron's cock and pressed as he leaned in and bent down even with him. "Let's get one thing straight, mop boy." Cameron inhaled sharply as ecstasy laced with torment ripped through his center. "I'm still the boss." Jesse twisted the shoe over the crotch of Cameron's shorts.

Cameron screwed up his face. "Oh, Jesus," he hissed. Jesse was practically gleeful as he watched his subject squirm.

"Aw, yeah...that's what you like, it's it?" he practically crooned as he patronized.

Cameron slid his fingers under his waistband and slid his pants and underwear down past the sole of Jesse's shoe. Jesse stepped back and surveyed the proudly swollen cock as it pointed daringly in his direction.

"Fuck. That is what you like. You're a piece of work, p--"

"Don't call me that again," Cameron snapped. He grabbed Jesse's foot and clapped it to his groin so forcefully that it nearly brought him to the floor. Wrapping his hands around the Puma, he pressed it to his thrumming erection as if daring Jesse to torment him further.

Jesse tugged back at his foot, but Cameron held on.

"What the fuck? Let go!" He strained against Cameron's hands, which held on for dear life. His fingers laced around his ankles, constricting the sneaker such that he couldn't even pull his foot out of the shoe if he wanted. "You little fucker," he hissed.

With each struggled movement, the sole of the shoe jostled against Cameron's cock, slowly growing slick with his juices. Cameron locked eyes with Jesse as he clamped down on the foot, feeling a tide slowly rising up with him. He clenched his jaw as it began to well up and take over his body. "You said you wanted me to cum," he forced out. "And I always do what my boss says."

"If you even think about getting your jizz on my shoe...." Jesse threatened, repeatedly jerking back on his foot and unwittingly plunging Cameron deeper toward the inevitable. The sneaker squealed in protest as Jesse's sweaty ankle sock pulled against the lining in Cameron's vise-like grip. The Puma bent and contorted in the struggle, mirroring Jesse's face as on one foot he tried to break free.

Cameron felt himself slipping beneath the waves. The shudders began to run through his body, and he could maintain his hold on the shoe no longer.

Jesse pulled free. Cameron's straining red cock sprang forward just as he cried out in release. Semen shot forward like creamy streamers, vaulting through the air and landing with soft plops over Jesse's shin and the top of his immaculate shoe, practically disappearing as it hit the cream-colored uppers.

"You son of a bitch!" Jesse practically screamed as he stared at the pearls of pleasure shimmering on his foot. Cameron cracked a smile as he went limp on the floor.

"You were right," he said weakly as Jesse wrenched a roll of paper towels from the shelf. "That was exactly what I wanted." Jesse scrubbed furiously at his leg and sneaker before tossing the sticky paper towel wad a Cameron and stalking out the door. By the time Cameron was ready to stand and leave the closet, Jesse was long gone.

Cameron smiled to himself as he crossed the parking lot. There was still so much summer left.