Secret Santa Pt. 01

Regarding one marketing strategy that I had opted for, Alyssa demonstrated, with a frustrating amount of data, how the strategy she'd steered us towards was more successful.

"Still," Mike had said while gritting his teeth and struggling to come up with something that would undo her point. "Maria is your supervisor, and you need to show her the appropriate respect."

"I did," Alyssa had said without a hint of irony. "I suggested a more appropriate strategy and saved her from losing face by going down a path of failure."

Mike had awkwardly scratched his ear, while I had looked on like a deer in headlights, silently willing him to defend me and becoming increasingly nervous as I had realised I was going to have to do so myself. "I'm not a failure," I had said, almost in a whine.

"I know," Alyssa had said with a nod of her head. "Because I stepped in. That's my point." She had then looked towards Mike, almost annoyed. "Is that not the definition of working as a team? Ensuring we all function well for the benefit of the company?" She had then rolled her eyes. "Even if some of us need more help than others."

"Ummm, yes," Mike had said, and he looked towards me as if he was as annoyed as Alyssa was. "Can we just bring this matter to a close?"

"Fine," I'd said, inwardly seething that I'd been made to look a fool in front of my own boss and lover.

"Is that everything?" Alyssa had said, struggling to hide a smirk. "Because I really need to get back to what I was working on and this interruption is putting me behind."

"Yes, go," Mike had said.

Once Alyssa had left us, I had become furious. "What the hell was that? You didn't even defend me."

Mike had raised a hand, gesturing towards the door as it closed behind Alyssa. "What was I supposed to do? You made it sound like she'd been insulting you or something? If you don't want her to correct your mistakes, don't make them in the bloody first place. You know how bad this makes me look? I gave you the supervisor job because you begged me to, so do your bloody job that you get paid for."

With that, I had fallen silent, like a scolded child. "Are you mad at me?"

Mike had squinted his eyes. "Don't be silly," he had said. "Just, don't bring stuff like this to me again. It makes me look bad having to defend you, especially when she's coming at me with evidence. This needs to stay a secret between us, and if you keep putting me in a position to defend you over silly squabbles, people are going to catch on, aren't they?" He had stood, and gently squeezed both of my shoulders while straightening my posture. "You're the supervisor. So, supervise her! If you don't like the way she's acting, then of course, bring her into line. But, you need to exert your authority and do it yourself."

I had sniffled before nodding my head. "Okay."

Now, I was down on the floor, staring up at the very same colleague that had been causing me problems for months. I'd been suspicious that she was sabotaging me, to a degree, as some of the mistakes being blamed on me I couldn't even recall having made. Sure, I was self-aware enough to admit that Alyssa was damn good at her job, and in a different scenario, she would probably have been the one that was promoted. However, in this line of work, it wasn't about what you knew, but rather, who you knew, and she was just going to have to accept that life was sometimes unfair. I got the promotion, because Mike thought I deserved it, and she was being so damn childish over everything. We could have already been working as a harmonious team if she'd just looked past a minor gripe.

"Well, come on," she said with a snap of her fingers. "I don't have all night. I'm probably going to be finished up in the next half hour so you need to get busy."

"Fine," I said while raising my hands in defeat. I reached over, and pulled one of her flats free from her foot. Immediately, I turned my face away and squeezed my nostrils closed as the warm, intense odour hit me by surprise. "Eww," I said without thinking; tossing the shoe aside. "That's strong."

I felt Alyssa's other foot kick against my thigh. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your feet are smelly," I said, while still clutching my nose. "When was the last time you washed them?"

Alyssa's face recoiled, and she looked as if I had mortally offended her. "Well, that's not nice, is it? I've been working hard all day. I'm about to get a relaxing foot massage, and you use it as an opportunity to insult me?" She shook her head dismissively, and let out a sigh. "I mean, a girl working in a spa would never speak to a customer like that."

I instantly felt self-conscious. It was the same feelings I always had whenever Alyssa would talk over me in a meeting, or point out something I'd said as being incorrect. I'd feel on edge, and all confidence would evaporate from me as I noticed everyone else lose respect for me. I dropped my hand, and tried to explain myself. "That's not what I meant--"

"So, what did you mean. Are you saying they don't smell?"

"Well, I, ummm, yeah, they do--"

I jumped as Alyssa caught me by surprise, lifting her foot and pinching my nose between her biggest and second toe. For a moment, I struggled to grasp what had actually happened, but then, I became abundantly aware of the humiliating thing she was doing. I yanked my head free, while screwing my face up in disgust. "What the hell? What are you doing?" I rapidly rubbed my nose and tried to wipe away all trace of her grubby toes. "That's disgusting. Why the hell would you do that?" I could barely fathom that she'd actually had the gall to do something so inappropriate to me as if it were a casual gesture.

"Do they really smell that bad?" she asked, while tilting her head and looking at me with curiosity. "Because, if you're saying they smell too bad to massage, well, I guess I'm better off emailing HR." She shrugged. "You know, I thought we had an agreement, but if you're breaking it already. Well--"

"No," I said. "I'm not saying that--"

"None of the pedicure girls ever act so rudely," she said off-handily, while turning back towards her monitor. "I guess this really isn't going to work out."

I craned my neck and watched as Alyssa opened the email on her screen. "What...what are you doing?" She continued to ignore me and tap away on her keyboard, and I became more flustered as each word appeared on the screen. "Alyssa, what are you doing?"

"Exactly what I said I would." She began typing another paragraph out, then attached two images, one of the voucher booklet, and another of the kinky card I'd sent along with the gift. "I'm letting HR know about your little Secret Santa gift and who I think it was actually meant for." She glanced towards me knowingly. "Do you need me to say it out loud?"

"What? No," I said in a panic. "It was meant for you." With that, I fumbled desperately removing her other shoe. "I'll massage your feet now, Alyssa." I grimaced as I smelled the fresh stink from her other foot, and I felt my tummy turning as I noticed how clammy both of her soles were. Clearly, they'd been stuffed up in her flats all day, and though her toes were painted that cute blue, which somewhat complimented her ebony skin, they were covered in marks from the cramped nature of her shoes. She spread her pudgy, sausage-like toes, and as she continued to tap away at her keyboard, I rapidly wrapped my fingers around her foot.

I looked up at her almost pleadingly, as I began to knead my thumbs into the sole of her moist foot, almost willing her to notice that I was putting the effort in and she didn't need to ruin my life. I honestly didn't have a clue what I was doing, but I attempted to massage them in the way I liked my own feet rubbed. I was almost boring into her with my eyes, as I twisted her foot in my hands, pressing into her arch with my thumb and rolling it along the bumpy knots that were evidently present. Such was the sweaty nature of her soles, that I found my fingers clumsily slipping along her skin. However, I remained resolute, determined to stave off that email for as long as possible.

Alyssa momentarily paused in her typing, and let out an involuntarily sigh as I knuckled at her instep. I took that as a sign that I was doing something right, and spurred on by her response, I repeated the process again, focusing in on a particularly stubborn knot just beneath the ball of her foot. With both thumbs, I pressed with such dedication that my hands were beginning to tire and cramp; all while my own skin seemed to be soaking up the sweat.

Gradually, Alyssa slowed down the pace with which she was typing, until eventually, she rested back into the seat and closed her eyes. "That's nice," she muttered. "Keep doing that."

I dipped my head and nodded eagerly, thankful that she wasn't continuing with the email. We remained silently in tandem, Alyssa stretching out while I pressed into her arches and knuckled the balls of her feet to the point my fingers ached. I even thumped her heels with my fist, as I'd seen the masseuse girls doing at the salon.

"Pull on the toes," Alyssa said without even opening her eyes. "I find that especially relaxing."

"Umm, okay," I said awkwardly, looking away in embarrassment before I began tugging on each of her short toes; the joints cracking in response to my efforts. Once I'd been through all ten, I stroked her soles softly, hoping to make her happy and get this all over with. However, my hands were already spent and I didn't have much power left in me. I was never one for work that involved getting my hands dirty, and I grimaced at noting black, flakes of sweaty skin rolled up and stuck to my palms. "Are we done?" I asked, rubbing my hands together and wanting to head to the washroom.

Alyssa's eyes shot open and she sneered. "We're done when I say we're done. This is my foot massage." She dropped one of her heels onto my bent knee with a thud. Her toes spread, and I grimaced at noting the dark lines of dirt caked in the sweaty crevices. "Get in between my toes too. I like how it feels."

"Really?" I said with disgust. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, why not?"

"It's just..." I trailed off as I heard Alyssa sigh with dissatisfaction again. "Okay." I couldn't even face her as I dug my fingers between each of her toes, feeling gross and looking away as I felt the dirt rolling up beneath my skin as I dislodged it.

"That's it," Alyssa said with a smile while watching me and nodding with approval. "This is my favourite part. I love how this feels." She closed her eyes again, before breathily adding, "Make sure you get between them all and get all that icky stuff out."

"This isn't part of a foot massage though," I said while wrinkling my nose. I was just moving onto the pinkie toe, plunging my finger into the gap and digging out the jammy substance with my nail. "They usually wash your feet first."

"Quit your complaining and really put some effort in," she said while looking down her nose at me. "Right now, you're convincing me not to send that email, but that can all change in a second. You need to really work those fingers."

I bit my tongue and avoided saying something that would get me further in trouble, instead lifting the other foot and repeating the process of scraping out all of the slimy goop between her sweaty toes.

"I'm actually loving this," Alyssa said with a chuckle. "Seeing you down there and cleaning the muck from between my toes. Seems like you've finally found something you're good at, huh?"

"Okay, enough," I said with a groan. "It's bad enough I have to do this, but could you please not make it worse."

"Too late," she said, and I darted my head up in confusion. Right at that moment, as I looked up from my sitting position, Alyssa's sweaty foot gripped in one hand as my finger diligently scraped the grime from between her biggest and second toe, Alyssa snapped a photo of me.

I immediately flinched under the flash, as a throbbing pounded against my chest, the veins in my throat seeming to pulsate as a wave of morbid fear washed through me. "What...what the hell are you doing? I asked while dropping her heel against my thigh with a thud. I instinctively wiped my finger on the skirt of my dress, desperate to get all of her sweaty toe filth away.

"Just keeping something to remember this by." She cackled to herself, before turning the phone towards me.

I blushed with embarrassment as I saw the picture. I looked ridiculous, hunkered down on the floor, and expression of confusion on my face as I appeared to be handling Alyssa's foot with care and attention to detail. Behind me, the rest of the office was clear, and it was obvious that I was sat at the side of Alyssa's desk, though her ebony skin was evidence enough that it was her taking the photo anyway. I looked away with shame from the humiliating documentation of my pathetic service. "Please delete that," I said in an almost whine. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this."

Alyssa chuckled again. "Well, you better start behaving yourself right, because I think this photo goes along very well with everything else. Just wait till I tell them that once you realised your mistake, you came over to me, begging down on your knees and kissing my feet for forgiveness."

"What the hell," I said, while scooting back further from her. "I never did anything like that."

"Yet," she said, while looking at me mischievously. "But, we'll get to that."

My face was screwing up in disgust, all while the stink of Alyssa's feet was still polluting my senses. "I'll never do anything like that," I spat.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "I'm sure a couple of days ago you thought you'd never be giving me a foot massage too, but here we are."

She slotted her phone into her handbag and I followed it with my eyes. "Alyssa, I'm serious. I rubbed your feet like you wanted, but please, delete that photo."

She waved a hand at me as if I were nothing but a mild irritation. "I think I'd prefer to hold onto it. You know, just in case it proves to be useful later."

"You're not going to show anyone, are you?"

She shrugged, rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Who knows?"

"You do," I said forcefully. "Please, don't leave me hanging like this."

"I have to get going anyway," she said with a shrug, before withdrawing her feet and slipping them back into her flats. "You can leave now."

"Alyssa, please." I fumbled awkwardly, swallowing with nervousness as I clambered to my feet. My hands were moist and grimy from the amount of time I'd spent pressing my fingers and thumbs into Alyssa's sweaty feet. I lifted them slightly towards my face, recoiling at the ingrained stink. "So, umm, we're good? You're not going to show anyone, right?""

Alyssa turned and looked at me in surprise. "No, Maria," she said in tone as if I was an idiot. "We're pretty far from good." She shrugged her shoulders, squinting her eyes as she seemed to be enjoying taunting me. "I'm still leaning towards taking this all to HR, but for now, you'll have plenty of opportunity to change my mind."

I gulped. "What...what does that mean? I just rubbed your feet like you wanted."

She flicked her fingers at me, ushering me away. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to make use of my gift again."

With that, I was dismissed, almost like I was hired help, rather than the office supervisor and the person in a senior position to her. However, my words caught in my throat, and I realised, if I snapped back at her with disrespect, the consequences wouldn't be worth considering. Instead, I merely offered a bemused, "Ummm, okay then."

My hands were still reeking of her feet as I gave them a disgusted sniff in the elevator; pouting before wiping them on my dress. Once home, I went for a shower, and I was so exhausted that I just headed straight to bed without even waiting up for my mother. Even when Mike hit me up for a bootie call, I simply disconnected.

However, despite the fatigue, I couldn't drift off at all, as I realised that now I was in even deeper. Not only did Alyssa have the gift and card, but now, she had photographic evidence of me humbly massaging her sweaty feet. That in itself was beyond any consequence that HR might inflict upon me; more being a humiliation I would never be able to live down.