Feet in the Mind

I love walking in the park. It was a normal day in August, which is to say, it was warm and the sky was clear. There were a few children playing, far enough their voices were delightful rather than annoying. The breeze rustled the tree leaves, birds soared and sang, and a few flowers bloomed, showing beautiful colours and filling the air with pleasant scents. I admit it was also a good chance to look at pretty people having fun. It rarely came to anything more than an innocent pleasure for me, and for those who like to be admired. So as I passed by a beautiful young woman, sitting on a bench, reading, and idly swinging her feet back and forth, I spared her a glance. the last thing I expected was to hear a firm voice calling me out.

«What are you staring at?»

I was so surprised, I stopped walking, looking down with my mouth open. I wanted to justify myself. I hadn't meant any harm. Maybe I had made her feel uncomfortable though. Slowly, I raised my eyes, my mouth going dry, and just then, she turned a page of her book, seeming completely enthralled, as if she hadn't even noticed I was there.

«So, are you going to answer?»

Her lips didn't move! I turned my head from side to side, trying to find the speaker. Now I was paying attention, I realised I didn't get a sense of direction from it. The voice sounded female and lacked any obvious accent. There wasn't anything else I could say about it.

«It's us, her feet.» Now the tone was a little playful, delighted with my discomfort.

"What?" I muttered.

«You don't need to talk outloud. We can hear your thoughts, just as you can hear our words in your mind.»

This was too weird for me. I turned away, and gave her one last quizzical glance. she must have heard me, because she looked back, and closed her book.

"Hi! I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" she asked. Her voice was very different. Unlike the disembodied words from before, she had a slight Northern accent, and she sounded cheerful.

"Oh, never mind. I was just talking to myself."

«Smooth. No wonder you're lonely enough to look at random women in the park.»

Could it be true? Were her feet talking to me, and if so, why? They were certainly very rude, whoever they were. Getting berated like that made me blush, and she noticed.

"Would you like to sit with me?" She patted the bench by her side.

«Do you need a map?»

«Shut up!» I thought as loudly as I could, nodded, and took a sit.

The bench was warm, and I was all too aware of her nearness. The feet--I was starting to believe it really was her feet--had been rude, but accurate. These excursions through the park were the closest I got to having a social life. I was too shy to initiate contact, and too invisible for others to do so.

I wouldn't have given her feet a second look, but the situation was unusual. They rhythmically swayed, clad in open sandals that showed them off to good advantage. the constant movement and her shiny red toenails drew my eyes, and by the time I realised...

"Are you staring at my toes?"

... it was too late.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. Even my ears were hot. My heart was about to burst.

She giggled.

"That's cute." She turned towards me, and raised one foot closer to my face. She was amazingly flexible.

"You can look, I don't mind. Do you like the colour?"

«Come on, boy. You may as well make the best of it. This is the closest to a woman you've been in years. Don't bother lying to us. We know.»

"I..." I gulped, trying to look for words that didn't make me sound like a complete idiot. "Um... yeah, it's a pretty colour."

Her foot came even closer to my face, and she leaned in towards me.

"Yes, I think they're the precise colour you get when you blush!"

I groaned, and she moved her foot away.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't tease you like this." She patted my hand. "You're too easy. Really though, do you think my feet are beautiful?"

"Of course." that came out a little too fast.

«You better do.»

"It's just..." She sighed. "No, never mind."

"What is it?"

«She's reeling you in like a fish.»

"Oh, just me being silly. I was thinking, after a long walk, it would be so pleasant to get my feet rubbed. I know, I know. It's too much to ask."

«Say yes.»

«What? No!» I didn't want her to think I was a complete doormat, even if I was. Especially if I was.

«Come on. It's the only way you get to be with her. Listen to us. She loves foot massages, and we do too. Say yes, do a good job, and maybe she'll keep you.»

I dithered, overthinking things, as usual.

"I guess that's a no," she said, stretching her hand towards her book.

«Last chance!»

"Well, uh... I just... It's not something I've done before, so I don't know if I'd be any good at it."

"But you wouldn't mind trying? For me?" She pouted, and I knew already I would have a hard time refusing her anything she really wanted.

"I could, I guess?"

"Great!" She clapped, and her smile was contagious. "Don't worry. I take really good care of them. They're very smooth, and they don't smell, at all."

I heard giggles in my mind. Could disembodied voices laugh? It seemed they could.

«That's not exactly truthful. We are very smooth and soft, but we do smell. You mustn't show it bothers you. She doesn't like that.»

«Are you giving me dating advice? Am I taking dating advice from a pair of feet?»

«Hey, it's not our fault you're this hopeless. You get to be with her, and we get our massage. Only fair, right?»

"So? Are you going to start?" she asked.

"Um, sure? How do we do this? Can you turn towards me and put them on my lap?"

She frowned. "I don't know. I need a backrest. The bench is just not that comfortable to lie on. Why don't you just get down on the ground, at my feet, and do it from there?"

"Uh, ok..."

If it wasn't embarrassing enough to massage someone's feet in public, I was about to do it from a rather lowly place.

She smiled. "It won't be too long."

"What if people see?"

She squeezed my shoulder. "Who cares? It's none of their business, is it? Going around trying to please everyone is exhausting. Much better to try to please just one person, like me." She lowered her head and whispered in my ear. "Boys will wish they were you, and girls will wish they were me."

Her touch made me shudder. It convinced me, as I'm sure it was intended to.

"Alright."

I got up, and awkwardly got down in front of her, trying to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable. In the end, I had to go down on my knees.

"Just like that. Will you take off my sandals?"

«Yes! Get to it, boy!»

«You could be more polite.» I found out one could mutter in one's thoughts.

I held her feet up, one by one, and slipped off her sandals, noticing the obvious discoloured sweat print in the insole. It released a strong, pungent smell, and I wanted to draw away and breathe through my mouth.

«Smile, don't show any distaste, and don't complain.»

At least she was right they were well cared for. Her soles felt creamy in my hands, perfectly soft and smooth, if a little sticky with sweat. There were a few red marks from the sandal straps, but otherwise her skin was flawless, and her toes were beautifully proportioned. If only they didn't smell so much.

"See? They're nice, aren't they?" She raised her foot and brushed her sole on my cheek.

I bit my lip, unsure how to react, looking up in confusion.

«Thank her.»

«What!»

«Thank her, boy! Now!»

"I've never seen feet as pretty as yours," I admitted. It was true. "Thanks for the opportunity."

She laughed brightly. "Of course, I'm a princess. Now, rub, boy."

I realised I didn't know her name, and she seemed to have no interest in mine, either.

«Princess will do.» How could they sound so smug.

My fingers dug into her sole, moving in circles. I had no idea what I was doing. Fortunately, she did.

"A little harder, sweetie. I won't break."

Was she being condescending, or was I being oversensitive? I nodded and obeyed, too uncertain to question her attitude.

«Good boy.» her feet were purring inside my head. It was... distracting, and strangely exciting. I hadn't had an interest in feet before, but kneeling down and handling these was making me squirm.

She picked up her book, and continued reading while I rubbed. Every now and then she gave me an order, not bothering to move her eyes off the page.

"Squeeze the toes, gently."

I did, and as my hands complied with her instructions, exploring and learning her textures and shapes, I couldn't understand why I had ignored feet for my entire life. Such a pretty pair was impossible not to be attracted to.

«Yes, we are perfect, boy. You will learn to serve us and you will love it.»

She set her book aside and stared down at me. I blushed again, and once more she stretched her free foot towards my face.

"Yes, it's that precise shade," she said, tapping my cheek with her sweaty toes.

"They should call that colour 'Blushing Boy Red'."

She clapped. "That's so clever! I bet it would increase sales." She patted my face with her sole, cupping it in her arch. Her toes ran over my hair and barely brushed my ear, making me shiver. It was so intense I had to close my eyes for a moment.

"Massage?" she said, wiggling her toes against my hand.

"Um, sorry. I just..."

"You got distracted. It's alright, sweetie."

I went back to rubbing her foot, and she casually rested the other on my shoulder. I heard her toes rub against each other, right by my ear, wafting what seemed to be an endless cloud of intoxicating scent on me. It was making me dizzy.

«You're doing a good job. Most boys are too weak to handle her and would have run away by now.»

«I feel so strange...»

"Mind if I take a picture?" she asked. "It's the first time we meet and it will make quite a story."

I wasn't sure, but if it made her happy, and helped her remember me, maybe it would be worth it. We might even meet again. We might... No, don't even think about it. No point in hoping for the impossible.

«And why should it be impossible?»

«Oh, shut up.»

"Um, I guess? Just for us, right?"

"Of course!"

She took out her phone and took a picture, then she moved her foot to my other shoulder, framed my face in between them, squeezed gently, and commanded me to smile. The aroma was so penetrating it was all I could do not to gag, and yet at the same time there was something alluring and seductive about it. Something I couldn't explain, but which I could also not deny.

"Say cheese!"

She giggled, and I did my best to smile as the shutter snapped.

"Cheese!"

"There, those are great." She looked at the phone, then at the sky, and sighed. "It's getting late though. time goes so fast when you're having fun. You were a very good boy, but I guess I exploited you for long enough. Sandals, please?"

I put them on, and wondered if I would ever see her again.

«Ask her.»

«What, why me?»

«She likes boys like you, but she wants you to ask.»

«Like me... how?»

«Don't be silly: obedient, humble, servile... Like you.»

I blushed, wiping a little dust off her shoes, and looked up at her shyly.

"Will we meet again?"

"What, looking forward to rubbing my feet already?" She smiled, more gently. "Give me your phone."

I passed it to her, and she transferred the pictures, though she didn't give me her number, or asked for mine.

"So? I asked.

"What?"

«She's testing you.»

"Please, can we meet again?"

Did I sound too desperate?

"Alright. Tomorrow, same place, same time. Stand up, silly!"

Easier said than done. My knees ached. My body wasn't used to the position, and I groaned.

"See you around, and dream of your princess." She kissed my cheek. "And of her pretty feet," she said, blowing in my ear.

By the time I recovered, she was walking away. I felt wrung out, like I had been running a race, so I sat on the bench. Looking at my hands, I could see bits of dust and foot crud stuck to my fingers. I raised them to my face. They smelled just like her feet.

I had no urge to wash them.