How Beautiful Are The Feet

Gloria finally got her breath back. "I'm going to get you, you fucking bitch. I've never cum like that in my life. You fucking bitch. You little witch. You just wait." Ten minutes later, she was asleep. Madeline put her book away and studied a collection of lieder for another hour, then had a shower, then went to bed. Gloria hadn't moved.

***

The first rehearsal that Gloria went to, Prof Barter raised her eyebrows slightly and simply nodded. "All right, we could use an alto. You can have your audition afterward. You sight read?"

Gloria lied. "Sure. No problem." She was not a good sight-reader, and mainly faked the difficult sections by listening really hard to the girls around her. But she learned very fast. Her audition afterward went fine. Madeline knew it as soon as she had finished singing her little section of "The Shepherd on the Rock".

"She's quite the bitch, isn't she?" Gloria said as they walked back to the dorm.

"What do you mean?" Madeline didn't think of Prof Barter as a bitch or an angel: she was simply her music prof. Almost devoid of personality.

"I mean those shoes! And that blouse and skirt. Like something from the forties, one of those movies. So proper. I bet she's a fireball underneath."

"Barter? A fireball?" Madeline shook her head. She thought Prof Barter was completely sexless. She kept her hair up all the time, in those old-fashioned hair clips. She probably brushed it out at night, counting out the strokes, then did it back up again. She made no effort to improve herself, to "decorate" as Madeline called it when she painted her nails or applied lipstick or dangled exotic earrings from her earlobes. "I bet Barter's cunt hasn't been out of the deep freeze in years."

"No. You're wrong. I'll prove it to you."

Madeline should have known. This was Gloria's gift. Like second sight. She knew things. She was a scalpel, cutting right through to the heart of things.

At first Madeline didn't quite understand.

The next time they went to chorus, Gloria pulled out a pair of Madeline's shoes. They were thick-heeled, open-toed mules with a thick piece of leather over the top the arch. She would wear them when she went out on dates. Through the open toes, Madeline's toes stuck through in a tidy row, her toenails a row of bright silver-violet bullets. At the top of the band of black leather, small silver half moons adorned the band of leather. They were hot. "Here," Gloria said. "Wear these. You know, fuck-me shoes. You just watch Barter's reaction. I'll prove it to you. She's a fucking volcano."

Madeline had to sing her solo at tonight's practice.

When the time came, she came forward and stood in front of the rest of the chorus. She held her score out in front of her then lifted her eyes to Prof Barter. Barter's eyes were focused right there. Right on her shoes. Madeline was quick. She wiggled her toes, smirking inside. She had no qualms about being wicked. Barter paused a little longer. Then everything went back to normal. Probably no one else noticed.

"See?" Gloria said afterward.

"So she noticed my shoes. Doesn't mean anything."

Gloria looked at her and shook her head. "All right, we'll see next time. Okay?"

Madeline liked this game. Regardless where it went. "Sure."

Gloria lifted her hand quickly and ran it through Maddy's thick dark red hair. "You were so fucking sexy, wiggling your toes like that."

That night, Madeline was in a deep sleep, in the middle of a strange dream. Her body was pressed under a weight like a heavy beam. Then she realized it wasn't a dream. Something was on top of her. She was scared for about two seconds, then she realized it was Gloria. She uttered a muffled, low grunt. "Fuck!" she whispered, disoriented. "What are you doing! I can't breathe!"

Then she felt Gloria's hot sweet breath on her face, hissing back at her in the dark. "It's payback time, you sweet bitch." Then she felt Gloria's hot mouth on hers, kissing her hard, her tongue snaking inside her lips, Madeline unable to respond because of her awkward position, her face forced into her pillow. "I think you are just awesome, you little bitch. And now it's payback time."

Madeline breathed in, tasting Gloria's mouth, her salty skin. Gloria turned on the bedside lamp, and out of the corner of her eye Madeline could see Gloria in the mirror. She was straddling Madeline's back, and had one of her hockey sticks across the back of Madeline's thighs. In her hand was the roll of tape she used to tape her ankles. She tugged the sheets off the smaller girl. Roughly, she pulled one of Madeline's wrists down to her thigh, and taped it to the hockey stick behind her back. Then the other wrist. Next, Madeline felt Gloria's strong hand around her ankle, bending her leg back, which she then taped by the ankle to the same hockey stick. Then the other ankle. Now, Madeline was completely helpless, her arms taped back to the hockey stick, and her ankles taped up, so her body was bowed. Gloria got up and smiled, her hands on her hips.

"Now then, my little witch... you are completely mine." Gloria, so strong, took Madeline by the shoulders, lifted her back and simply flipped her on her back, so that now her body was arched back, her tummy and mound thrust up, her breasts jutting out.

Gloria's approach was completely direct. She placed her hand on Madeline's breast and squeezed it, pinching the nipple. Madeline made no effort to resist, just let the responses surge through her. She felt the strong girl's fingers pinching her nipple, first one, and then the other. The electric current went right to her clit. Then Gloria dragged her fingers down her taut, arched body, to Madeline's mound. Unlike Gloria, Madeline kept her mound neatly shaved, just a small v of red hair over shaved lips, perfectly smooth. Gloria dragged her nails over her mound, then squeezed Madeline's cuntlips right over her clit, and twisted. Madeline was already dripping wet.

"Ooooh, look at this pretty little cunt. Do you want me to fuck you, my lovely little helpless fucktoy?" Gloria slid a finger along Madeline's slit, dipping it into her vagina, where it sunk in easily. Then she slid it out, lifted her hand and smacked Madeline's mound, her fingers slapping against her swollen labia. Madeline barely jerked; she liked a little pain, and felt no need to resist. Gloria was enjoying it, turning Madeline this way and that, her body fixed to the hockey stick, a doll. She bit the smaller girls' nipples, sucked them, listened to Madeline moan hoarsely, quietly, sunk her fingers into Madeline's cunt... one finger, two fingers... pumping into her.. fucking her.

Before long she was on the edge. "Come on, Gloria... come on honey... let me cum... god please..."

Gloria smiled and dug three fingers deep into Madeline's cunt, starting to fuck her hard. Madeline pushed against the fingers. But needed the feel of something on her clit, a mouth, some fingers. She thrashed. "Come on Glo, please. Please suck my clit!" Then she felt Gloria's mouth on her clit, flicking and sucking it hard.

She came hard. She bucked against the athletic girl's mouth, cumming deep and shatteringly. Gloria didn't stop sucking. Madeline came again. Then Gloria stopped. She smiled, looking at Madeline's face, caressing her cheek. She leaned over and kissed the smaller girl on the lips. "You're beautiful, baby."

She took the tape off, let the hockey stick drop to the floor, and crawled onto bed with the smaller girl, Madeline's body still shuddering, almost overwhelmed. Madeline didn't know what to think. She felt so close to Gloria. She wasn't prepared for it. She slept. In the morning, Gloria was back in her own bed, sleeping deeply.

***

"Okay. these tonight. You do your solo again? These should be perfect. They'll look great under your jeans."

Madeline smirked at her, her head angled. She was enjoying this game. The shoes were strappy ones, with rhinestones, dressy, hardly the thing for the beginning of November in Boston. She slipped them on, and struck a pose, her line of pretty bright pink toenails looking like bubble gum at the end of her feet.

It was almost the same routine. Except that Madeline exaggerated the effect by striking a bit of a pose, her one foot extended, showing off the shoes and her pale feet. Once again, Prof Barter paused, a pause understood only by Gloria and Madeline, looking at Madeline's shoes and feet. In the middle of the piece, Barter stopped conducting and just watched, smiling. Once or twice her eyes drifted down Madeline's bluejean-encased legs, then her feet, before she caught herself and looked back at the score.

Madeline didn't know what made her think of it, but what she did next was inspired. At the end of the rehearsal, she went up to Prof Barter as the older woman was putting away her music. "I think I need some extra work. I would really like this piece to be excellent."

"But it's already excellent, Madeline." Prof Barter's glance drifted up for a second to Gloria behind Madeline, then drifted back to the music she was stuffing inside her leather satchel. Her posture was indeed stiff and formal, her neck curving down from her clipped hair, a white blouse with embroidery at the collar, and a tight wool skirt that stopped just above her knees. Royal blue pumps and translucent white hose.

Madeline didn't persist much; just enough to leave the impression that she thought Prof Barter was really not trying for high enough standards. "Well, if you think it's good enough, I suppose it is. There were just a few bits and pieces I wanted to work on." Madeline reached down and tugged on the strap of her shoe as if it had fallen; she placed her foot down and made a show of pressing her foot into the shoe, wiggling her toes. She looked up quickly, seeing Prof Barter looking down at her shoes, lips parted.

Prof Barter tucked a wisp of brown hair behind her ear. Was she perhaps caught a little off-guard? "You really think so? All right then. You know where I live, just off campus? I think we did some practicing there one time. Why not come over there on Saturday afternoon."

Madeline smiled seriously and nodded. "That would be just fine. Perfect actually."

Madeline and Gloria walked home in the dark November night. "Good move," Gloria said. "I'll come with you."

Madeline looked up at her taller friend, eyes trying to pierce the darkness. "You have a plan don't you?"

Gloria looked ahead, chewed on her lip a bit. "You bet."

"I thought so. You were right about Barter. I can see it. She is seething, and she's afraid. I never would have guessed. How did you know? You even knew about me, didn't you?"

Gloria slipped her hand from her pocket and smacked Madeline on the ass. "You were different. You are awesome, Maddy. Even the first time we met, and I saw you looking at me the way you did. Plus you always looked so fucking sexy painting your toes, concentrating like a little kid. But Barter? Well Barter... I just knew. That's all."

Saturday came.

"Perfect," Gloria said. She had chosen Madeline's outfit. No bra, a heavy stretch top, dark purple, that stopped a few inches above her navel. Through it, her nipples showed, but it was thicker than most, with sleeves, which meant she wouldn't freeze if Barter's house wasn't warm. White opaque tights, that ended at the bottom of her calf. A black skirt with a wide belt and a big buckle in front, low slung. Her navel, with its silver ring, glinted.

"And now the important part. These!" The shoes. Black open-toed mules, with a leather strap that went around her ankle.

Gloria walked up to her friend, breathing in through her teeth. She extended her fingers, and flicked Madeline's nipples. The smaller girl just shivered slightly, her nipples visibly hardening. "Just a little hint that maybe there's a slut underneath. Perfect. Let's go."

Prof Barter wasn't expecting Gloria, too. The surprise on her face was visible. She led the two young women into a large, traditional house, one of those in the neighbourhood of large lawns near the university. The living room was large as the lawn: bay windows, and old formal furniture. "The music room is upstairs. I'll just get an extra cup for tea." That was her only comment that indicated she had not been expecting Gloria.

Upstairs, the music room was the duplicate of the living room: large, bay windows, with a view of the leafy neighbourhood, the nearest house through the trees within shouting distance only if you were outside. In the middle was a grand piano. The one difference was that the edges of this room were untidy. Music along the shelves, magazines, a computer. In one corner stood the exercise machine that the professor used to keep herself trim.

"Well, Prof Barter, thanks for taking the time this afternoon," Madeline said, taking off her coat. Gloria saw the moment coming and just watched, her hand resting on the strap of her leather shoulder bag. Prof Barter, held the teapot, ready to pour it, but stopped, looking at Madeline's outfit, not commenting. Madeline's nipples were hard. Obvious. She could feel Barter's eyes on them, which only made them harder. She could feel Gloria watching Barter, Gloria who knew things.

Prof Barter poured the tea. "Please, you're a junior, now, Madeline. And Gloria you're a senior. My name's Petra. Please call me Petra."

"Petra. What a pretty name," said Madeline.

Petra smiled warmly. "Thank you." She sat on the piano bench.

Gloria was putting her bag on top of some music spread out on top of the piano. "It's okay there?" Petra nodded. Gloria pushed it a bit, then adjusted it neatly in place. Then she came and stood behind the music teacher. "I can turn the pages. Make myself useful."

Barter smiled and chuckled. "That's hardly necessary, Gloria. The piece just covers two pages."

But Gloria simply sat down on the piano bench, her hands folded over her bluejeans. She was wearing a burgundy sweatshirt. "That's okay. I'll just sit here."

Prof Barter looked at Madeline, almost ignoring Gloria. "All right, Madeline, tell me what Handel had in mind with this aria."

Madeline told her. "It's a little oasis of calm. All the pieces around it are angry or loud or furious. This is calm. Almost delicate. You know. 'How beautiful are the feet of those that preach the gospel of peace.' A single delicate voice. A quiet controlled voice." She stood there at the end of the piano, her purple nails scratching silently, her toes wiggling in her shoes, drawing Petra Barter's eyes. Gloria leaned forward and pressed the score in its thick binding flat. Prof Barter's eyes were drawn back to the music, then to Madeline's face.

"Yes, that's the mood. But technically, what?"

"Ahhhh," said Madeline, pointing with her fingers to the notation above the music. Her purple nail was like a jujube on the paper. Her faint perfume filled the nostrils of both Gloria and Petra Barter as she leaned forward, her breast inches from their faces. "Larghetto, see? And of course, it is piano, like the rest of the oratorio. But this has to be clear as a bell. Flowing, legato, dancing..." Gloria could hardly believe her eyes as Madeline performed a quick mock-pirouette in front of them. "Like that, dancing." She pointed to her feet. "How beautiful are the feet, right?" She giggled. Then took her stance, hands folded in front of her, just below her glinting navel ring.

She sang beautifully. They practiced for about thirty minutes hard, going through it line by line. Petra Barter commented, picked out the weaknesses. She had high standards. Gloria got bored listening and following the music. She got up and lifted her bag off the piano. She went to Barter's desk, flipped through a magazine, looking up at the screen saver on the computer going through a series of pictures of famous composers. Then she spent a long time fiddling inside her bag on top of Barter's desk. She was like an impatient child trying to be good.

"Okay, let's have a break. Just let your voice rest." Prof Barter was wearing another of her white blouses, and knee length skirts. Navy pumps. Prim looking. Her hair was done up in a leather clasp with a long silver pin. Very artistic. The leather of the clasp was tooled. She took the cozy off the teapot and poured them each a cup. Idle chit chat ensued. She had grown up here, she said, although at that time it had really been outside Boston, it seemed.

"Come on, Petra," Gloria said. "You can't be more than ten years older than we are. You make it sound like you're our mother or something."

Petra blushed a little. "Well, I'm 35. A little more than ten years older than you two, I bet. Let's get back at it."

Petra sat down. Gloria moved behind her and rested her hands on Petra's shoulders. Madeline could see Petra stop, wondering what Gloria was doing with her hands on Petra's shoulders. A little invasion of space. She just twitched her head a little. Gloria smirked very slightly over at Madeline, who looked on, expressionless. An accomplice. Gloria removed her hands from Petra's shoulders and placed her fingers on the hair clip, slowly pulling the pin out of it. She let Petra's hair fall down. "Wow." Petra Barter's hair fell half way down her back.

Petra turned sharply, her brown eyes wide, annoyed. "What are you doing?"

Gloria just looked at her, smiling. "Relax. I just wanted to see what it was like. You always have it up."

Petra looked at her, then at Madeline, off balance, then reached up. "Well give me the clip back; I don't like it down when I work."

As soon as Gloria saw the older woman put her well-manicured hand out she smiled, and slowly, carefully, took the teacher's small hand and placed it on the keyboard, turning the professor around. Petra let her hands be moved, not quite believing it, clearly trying to understand what was going on. After a second of leaving her hands on the piano, she turned again, only this time Gloria was ahead of her.

The athletic girl had closed her fist around the professor's beautiful long hair, so that when Petra tried to turn her head, she couldn't, Gloria was gripping it. She let out a slight scream, involuntary, a scream of shock. "What are you doing? Gloria!" Prof Barter looked at her student with incomprehension and confusion in her eyes. Not fright, not yet. "Madeline! Tell her to stop this."

Madeline just watched, her eyes cool, her fingers on the edge of the piano. Her face registered nothing. Gloria was marvellous. Slowly, the athletic girl was pulling Petra Barter's head back, her neck bending, the muscles of her throat straining.

"What... what are you doing?" Petra Barter said.

Gloria said nothing, just gave the long hair in her fist, and Petra's head, a shake. Petra reached back quickly, grabbing Gloria's forearm that was holding the hair, but Gloria was much too strong for her. Madeline saw her teacher's soft pink nails dig into Gloria's forearm. Slowly, Petra lowered her hands, placed them on the edge of the stool. "What do you want? What is this. I'll have you expelled! Both of you!"

Gloria yanked her head back sharply, held her there for a few seconds, then yanked it back forward, to a natural posture. One of Petra's shoes fell off. "Don't threaten me," Gloria hissed. "You're just going to answer some questions, do what you're told. Look at Madeline." She turned Prof Barter's face toward Madeline, who stood there, unmoved and unmoving. "Tell me what you like best about her."

Petra snorted. "What do you mean? I don't do that kind of unprofessional -" but she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Gloria lifted her free hand and slapped her cheek. Not hard, but firm. The shock in Petra's face was sudden and complete. That was the moment when she became frightened. Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to bat them back. Her upper lip quivered. "Please..." she whimpered. "Please... stop this. Why are you doing this?" She lifted her hand to the cheek Gloria had slapped, and rubbed it.