Josh and Abi

Author's Note: This is my first story. Any feedback gratefully received.

***

Joshua pressed the buzzer and heard the bell ring inside. There was a jolt in his stomach, but he couldn't tell if it was nervousness or the giddy thrill of being here at all, somewhere he knew he shouldn't be. Abigail was a close friend of Sally, his ex, and even though Sally had broken up with him and not the other way around, it felt like a betrayal to be standing here, on the dark, narrow path in front of Abigail's apartment.

It had started innocently enough; he and Sally had agreed they could still share the same friends after breaking up, still go to the same parties, still stay in the same group chats. And even though he had been crushed when Sally told him it was over, Joshua had taken her at her word when it came to sharing friends. He certainly hadn't had anything illicit in mind when he'd sent a message to the group asking if anyone wanted to go the brewery with him tonight. But everyone had been busy, or not in the mood, or away, and he was on the verge of canceling the whole thing when Abi messaged him directly saying she'd like to go.

He'd been friendly with Abigail for years; friendly, but never really friends. He'd only spent time with her as part of a group, and always with Sally around. And if just once in a while he'd thought he caught a look from her that lingered ever so slightly, he certainly hadn't thought anything of it; a moment later Abigail would be looking at someone else in the group, or hugging Sally, or laughing. Abigail was always laughing, always embracing people. She was witty and confident, and her laugh was warm and generous and used freely when someone said something that deserved it.

A light flicked on behind the dark glass of the front door, and Joshua heard footsteps coming from inside. For a moment, he thought about darting back into the darkness behind him and slinking away. He could send Abigail an excuse: "Got stuck at work," "The Uber broke down," "My dog is sick," -- "Let's take a rain check," -- "No, I didn't ring your buzzer, that's so weird! Must have been neighborhood kids." Then he'd head back to his apartment, safe and quiet and dark and empty.

He felt like he was standing on a diving board 50 feet in the air, deciding if he should tip himself over the edge or turn around and climb back to the ground. But no, he was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with going to the brewery with Abigail. He'd posted the invite to the whole friend group! It wasn't his fault no one else was free. And Abigail messaging him back privately rather than posting in the group; that was just her being sensitive to Sally's feelings. It didn't mean she was interested in him, and it certainly didn't mean anything romantic was going to happen. Besides, he could see Abi's shape coming up to the door now. No turning back.

"There you are!" said Abigail as she opened the door with an easy, unselfconscious smile. Her dark wavy hair fell freely down to her shoulders, a soft frame around her pale face. Her eyes were large and bright, her lips full, her face angular but delicate and graceful. It was September, and now the sun had set there was a fall chill in the air, but all Abigail had on was a white tee and forest green bike shorts. In the soft light spilling out from inside, Joshua realized she was wearing makeup: a darkness around the eye, a darkness around the lip. Did she usually wear makeup? He couldn't recall.

"Hey!" Joshua said, smiling back. Oh god, should he hug her? Is that what people did? He certainly wasn't going to try to kiss her on the cheek, and shaking her hand would be even more ridiculous. Or should he do nothing? No, she was already leaning in with her arms stretched out. OK, OK. They would hug.

Joshua had a suede jacket on over his t-shirt, but he could still feel the warmth from Abigail's body as she pressed herself against him for a moment, and as her head tucked into his neck he caught a hint of something floral. Not floral like a rose bush, but floral like a garden late at night when the air was hot and still.

And then she let go, and turned, and walked away into her apartment.

"Nice place," Joshua said as he followed her into the open-plan kitchen and living room.

"Oh, haven't you been here before?" she said lightly, as she picked up a wine glass from the counter and topped it up from an open bottle of red.

Joshua smiled. She must know he hadn't been to her apartment before. Right? Or was she so socially active, so open with her home, that she really did assume he'd been here at some point or another?

"Would you like some?" she asked, nodding at the open bottle. Joshua had thought they'd go straight to the brewery when he arrived. Hadn't Abigail's message said, "My place is a ten minute walk from there, stop by here and then we'll head over?" But she seemed so at ease that it felt like the most natural thing in the world to say yes, he'd have some wine. After all, what was he going to do, sit on her couch watching her drink the glass she'd just filled for herself?

She poured him a glass -- a large glass -- and as she handed it over his fingers grazed hers. A jolt of energy radiated up his arm to his torso and bounced around his stomach. She sat on the couch and folded her bare legs up and under her so that she was almost sitting on her feet. He considered his options for sitting in the small living room space; a couch big enough for two people or a painted wooden chair in the corner. The chair was off to the side and didn't look like it was sat in much. Would it seem strange if he sat there?

"You can put your jacket there," said Abigail, pointing at the chair, seeming to read his mind. He did as he was told and then sat down on the couch. He sat right by the armrest, but it was a small couch and his thigh almost reached Abigail's feet. It was strange: if he did touch her bare skin, even by accident, he would feel like the creep, like he was doing something wrong, even though she had sat down here first, and told him to sit here too, on her small couch with barely enough room for two people.

"Do you like the wine?" Abigail asked, scooting around a little to face him more, bringing her knees just inches from his thigh.

He hadn't tasted it yet. He took a sip and said, "Yeah," immediately without thinking. Then a second later, "Oh, I actually do! That's really good."

She laughed at his nervousness, but not unkindly. He grinned too.

"We're still heading to the brewery after, yeah?" he asked.

"What else would be doing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him but still with a faint smile.

"Right, yeah," he said, smiling back but feeling very unsure of himself.

"So, how have you been?" she asked, looking serious now with a long, unbroken stare.

He looked at the floor and his shoulders hunched. "With Sally and everything you mean. Yeah, it's been kinda rough. Obviously, we were together for a long time -- four years -- and I really loved her, and..." He trailed off, wondering what he was trying to say. "It's sad. I'm sad. I'm really, really sad. And it was a shock because things were going pretty well. Or at least, I thought they were going pretty well. We weren't fighting or anything, and like, no one cheated or anything like that, of course."

"You wanted to stay together, then?" Abigail asked.

"Yeah. Or at least; yeah, in the moment, I did, of course. But since then, even though I miss her, and I miss her every day, part of me thinks she was right, you know? By the end, we were more like friends than partners."

"That's very hard," she said, looking right at him. Her eyes seemed very big.

"I can't imagine you can relate," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just... in your relationships I mean, I just can't imagine that you... well, that things would... that someone would stop... you know."

"I don't know, Joshua," she said, looking perfectly serious. "You think I can't fall out of love with a partner?"

"No, no," he said hurriedly, "I just mean that... you're such a passionate person. And you inspire passion in people. That's all I mean, I can't imagine someone's feelings for you going stale like that."

He turned towards her just in time to see the blur of a couch cushion mid-swing towards his head. It hit him with a thud and as he jerked away his glass sent a jet of red wine out over the polished wood floor.

"I 'inspire passion in people?' Joshua, you are SUCH a dork," she said, looking stern but half-laughing with it.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!" he said, pointing at the spilled wine. He jumped up and looked around for something to mop up it up with, then leaped over to the kitchen counter and grabbed some paper towels.

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who hit you in the head with a cushion," she said as he scrambled around on the floor with the paper towels. "Joshua, it's fine. Relax."

"I don't want to stain your floor!" he said as picked up a glob of towels, now saturated with wine, hopped over to the trash with his other hand catching the drips, grabbed some more towels and got back down on the floor. He turned around looking for any last drops and saw a small puddle just in front of the couch he'd missed. He leaned over to get it, but just as he was about to mop it up, Abigail set her small, manicured feet directly in the puddle.

"Uhm, Abigail, your feet..." he said.

"Huh? Oh shoot," she said, looking down at them with a slight frown. "Josh, could you dry them off for me?" She lifted her feet so only her heels were resting on the floor and wiggled her toes.

Joshua froze. Was she serious? Did she really want him to touch her feet? Was she kidding? Or was he being the strange one? Maybe it was no big deal to touch a friend's feet, and he was just twisted from watching too many Tarantino movies. Well, he could hardly say no now that she'd asked, anyway; because what if she asked why he was saying no? If she was making an innocent request and he tried to explain that it might seem intimate, he'd definitely sound like a creep! OK, he would wipe the wine off her feet, he just wouldn't be weird about it.

He reached over and began patting the sides of her feet with some dry paper towel, being very careful not to let the skin of his hand touch her bare feet, always keeping the paper in between the two. She had very pretty feet really; small, slim and smooth, with perfectly manicured nails painted a dark plum. He could feel the warmth radiating from her feet through the paper, and this close he could even smell the scent of her feet; not sour or acrid but warm and alive, human and intimate.

"Is something wrong?" Abi asked, looking down at him.

Joshua jerked his head up. "No! No, not at all," he said, tripping over the words. What had he done now? He had been so careful!

"It's just that you're kind of staring at my feet, like you're looking at a car crash or something. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Shit, had he been staring? He'd been looking, but he had no idea he'd been staring. Jesus, he just needed to act natural. What was wrong with him? "It's not that Abi, really, I promise. I was just spacing out, that's all."

"So there's nothing terribly wrong with my feet?"

"No, your feet are perfect! I just--"

"Perfect?!" she said with a big grin, "You think my feet are perfect?"

"Well yeah, I mean... well, I just mean there's nothing wrong with them, you know. And they're nice, and--"

"Well I'm glad you like my feet," she said, laughing freely now. "I just figured something was wrong when you would even touch them. You're handling that paper towel like a detective at a crime scene who doesn't want to disturb any fingerprints."

"Oh, I just didn't want to assume -- you know, it's not that I don't want to, it's just that I didn't know if you wanted me to--"

"Oh, you WANT to? You want to touch my feet Joshua, is that it?" she asked, howling with laughter. "How much do you want to?" God, his face was turning red. "Are you just desperate to touch my feet?"

Joshua felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Why did he always say the worst thing possible? Abi was teasing him, he knew that much, but was she teasing him for fun, or because he was acting weird? Did she think he was some kind of pervert?

"I don't want to and I don't not want to, I was just trying to make sure you didn't feel uncomfortable," he said. But as he said it, he realized that he did, in fact, want to touch her feet; to feel their warmth and smoothness directly, to trace their gentle arches, to circle her slim, delicate toes.

"Well, I want you to," she said, looking at him quite seriously.

"You do?"

"Yes. You said you want to make me feel comfortable, right? Well, I've been on my feet all day. A foot rub would feel great. So long as you don't 'not want to' of course," she said, smiling again.

A foot rub? That was the last thing he was expecting her to ask for after Abi had teased him so much. Could he give Abi a foot rub? God, it would be awful if she ever told anyone, if Sally somehow found out that he was here, alone in Abi's apartment, drinking wine and rubbing her feet.

But how would anyone find out? He certainly wasn't going to tell anyone, and Abigail risked betraying Sally almost as much as he did, so it wasn't like she'd tell either. No one had to know. Besides, he had come this far; was there any real difference between rubbing her feet with a paper towel and rubbing them for real? It wasn't like anyone else would care about that kind of subtle distinction. And he did really want to rub her feet; to feel her muscles under his hands, to watch her expression change as he found tender points. Maybe she'd moan if he found just the right spot. He felt a stirring in his pants. If he was going to back out of this situation, this was his last chance. If he left now, maybe he could explain away the wine and the foot rub as just a misunderstanding, just helping clean up a spill. As his hands dried off the last of the wine from Abi's left foot, he felt his dick begin rubbing against the inside of his underwear as it swelled. Fuck it. It was just a foot rub. He might never get a chance like this again with Abi.

"Well, OK, sure," he said. Her feet were dry now. He looked around for a place to put the wet paper towel, but he couldn't reach the coffee table or the kitchen counter without standing up, and if he stood up Abi might see the growing erection in his pants, so he just balled up the paper towel and put it in his pants pocket. Abi laughed openly watching him but didn't say anything.

"Should I come up and sit on the couch?" he asked.

"No. Stay on the floor."

He shifted so he was sitting on his butt and crossed his legs. He gently cupped Abi's feet by their heels, picked them up and rested them on his right thigh. The first contact with her skin was electric. He felt tingles running down his back. The skin on the soles of her feet was soft and the faint lines that creased them were shallow and delicate.

He picked up her left foot by the heel, then looked up at Abi. She was watching him with a neutral expression and he wondered what she was thinking.

He moved his hands from the heel of her foot to the sides, first one and then the other. His dick was straining against his underwear now, and he wondered if Abi could see it -- but no, his pants were hanging loose and he was holding her foot in the way anyway.

He swallowed thickly and realized his mouth had filled up with saliva, like he had forgotten to swallow, or forgotten to breathe. He inhaled deeply and caught that faint aroma again, not sour, not sweet, but personal and animalistic. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Abi's foot and his dick twitched. Jesus, he needed to pull it together.

He moved both thumbs to the sole of her foot and began kneading gently.

"Mmmmm," said Abi in a low moan.

Encouraged, he pressed his thumbs a little harder and began working down her the sole of her foot towards her heel.

"Mmm, that feels really good," Abi said, leaning back and closing her eyes.

John watched her face and kept pressing the sole of her foot with his thumbs. Every time he pressed down she would tilt her head ever so slightly to the side, like she was being rocked back and forth by the rhythm of his thumb presses. He began leaning forward slightly with each press, and as he did so the head of his erection began rubbing against the fabric of his pants. It felt good.

He worked his way back up her foot, still rocking back and forth with each press, until he passed the middle section he'd started with and reached the top of her foot, just below her toes.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," Abi said sharply, opening her eyes again.

"Is that sore?" he asked.

"Just a little. But it's a good sore. Don't stop, it feels good."

He did as he was told, using the intensity of her moaning as a guide for how hard to press.

"Switch to the other foot now," Abi said after a few minutes.

He gently placed her left foot down on his left thigh, then picked up her right foot and repeated the procedure, starting in the middle of her sole, working his way down and then back up again, and lingering on the tender pads of muscle just below her toes as she "Oohed," and "Ahhed." On this foot, it seemed like he could use more pressure without causing too much pain, and he started really pressing her foot, leaning his torso into the movement. Abi was letting out a soft, constant "Mmmmmm," now.

Joshua was focusing more and more on the feeling of his dick rubbing against the inside of his pants. He pressed Abi's foot harder and harder and swung his torso back and forth more and more, and in turn the friction on his penis steadily increased and increased.

But suddenly, Joshua felt a new feeling -- a static, even pressure right along his erect dick. His head jerked down and he saw in horror that while he'd been rubbing Abi's right foot, her left foot had wandered up his thigh until it alit squarely on his cock.

His hands froze. He looked up at Abi. Her eyes were wide open and she was staring back at him. He didn't move her hands. She didn't move her foot. His heart was racing. He felt his dick throb as the blood pumped through it, and he wondered if Abi could feel the throbbing too. Her expression was completely neutral. Jesus, he was so fucked. Why hadn't she moved her foot yet? What the fuck was he supposed to say now?

"You really do like rubbing my feet,' she said at last with the tiniest smile.

"I guess," he said. He still hadn't moved, her other foot was still in his hands.

"What do you want to happen next?" she said, very matter-of-factly.

"I... I don't know," he said.

"Is that true?"

"Yes!" he said.

"You really don't know what you want to happen next?"

"No! I mean... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, you know..."

"I didn't ask you to apologize. I asked you what you want to happen now."

"I don't know! I swear, this wasn't intentional." He could feel sweat start to bead on his forehead. "Look, I can just go if you want." He had fucked this up so badly. He'd never be able to see Abi again. Shit, if she told everyone he'd never be able to see any of his friends again! Everyone would think he was some pathetic pervert.

"Is that what you want? Do you want to leave?"

"I want to do whatever you want me to do. And if that means leaving, then I'll leave, of course".

"You want to do whatever I want you to do?"

"Yes!"

"Do you really mean that?" she asked, still with a very even, assured tone.

"Yes!"

"So if I tell you what I want you to do, you'll do it!"

"Yes!"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes! of course".

"OK Joshua, I'll take you at your word. Here's what I want. I'm going to turn over and lie face down on the couch. I want you to come over, pull down my shorts and underwear, and eat my ass."