Simon's Sprain

Simon checked his watch. If he left the office now, he'd have just enough time to drive home, shower, and change before the dinner meeting. He grabbed his briefcase, nodded to his secretary, and headed for the door.

Simon cut an elegant figure. In his mid-thirties, he was darkly handsome, with deep brown hair, sharply defined features, penetrating grey eyes, and a square jaw. His well-tailored suit jacket encased broad shoulders and tapered to a trim waist. His looks combined with his English accent -- he had moved from London in his late twenties -- left women weak-kneed on a regular basis.

But women weren't on his mind tonight. This was a crucial client for his team, and tonight was a night he had anticipated for months. The deal was so close to sealed, he could taste it. He walked out into the dark night, confident but the slightest bit tense. He sighed, knowing he would feel better when everything was settled.

The sun had set over an hour ago, and clouds covered the moon. The construction crew working on the new parking lot had left recently. Some debris still littered the edges of the space. Simon strode briskly toward the parking lot, his mind churning with all of the small things he had to take care of before the meeting. It wouldn't do to show up late, not tonight. He'd need all the wit and charm he could muster at his disposal.

Simon stepped off the curb, and suddenly everything switched to slow motion. In the dark, he had accidentally planted his right foot on a rock, but by the time he realized that, it was too late to shift his weight to his left foot, and the rock overturned. Simon gasped, his eyes wide, and tried to scramble backward and regain his balance, but it was no use. He landed with his full weight on the outer edge of his right foot. The pain was immediate and excruciating.

"AH!" He shouted, falling to the ground and clutching his ankle. "Ahhh!" He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in an agonized grimace. He could do nothing but rock back and forth for a minute or two, gripping his ankle in both hands. His mind was aware of nothing but the sharp pain in his foot.

After a few moments, he tried to slow his breathing and think of a plan. He opened his eyes. His car was parked directly across from where he now sat, at about a hundred yards. If he could manage to rise to his feet, he might hobble over to it, but the pain in his ankle discouraged him. He was unsure whether he could place his foot on the ground or not. He closed his eyes again and groaned softly, frustrated. It was poor timing. His team had worked hard for this client, and bringing them in would be sweet satisfaction.

"Simon!"

Simon glanced to his left. A colleague from a different section, Nick, was approaching at a slow jog. Nick was about the same age, with dark blond hair and the easy grace Simon equated with the American west coast.

Nick crouched next to him, worry in his ocean-blue eyes. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Simon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There was a stone in my path. I'm afraid I may have sprained my ankle."

Nick glanced at Simon's foot and gestured politely. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

Simon hesitated. "Well, I really don't know..."

"Trust me, I've managed to do this to myself more times than I can count. I should know what I'm doing by now."

Simon shrugged. He couldn't politely refuse. "All right." He braced himself, his muscles tense.

Nick gently took hold of his right foot. A wave of pain hit Simon immediately, and he sucked in a breath.

Nick looked up apologetically. "I know it hurts. I'm sorry." He prodded a little more, causing more pain, and very gently turned the ankle to and fro. "How does that feel?"

It hurt. To his great embarrassment, Simon couldn't suppress a moan.

Nick glanced up at the sound. "It's bearable, then? You're not on the verge of passing out?"

Simon closed his eyes. "It is very painful, but I suppose it's all right."

Nick sat back on his heels. "I don't think anything's broken."

That was indeed a relief. Simon hadn't thought he'd broken anything, either, but a sprain was still a problem.

"If I could inconvenience you to just help me to my car...," Simon began.

Nick chuckled. "And what will you do there?"

"Well, I'd assumed I could drive home, very slowly." He sighed. "I may be a little late for the dinner. You'll be there, I assume?"

Nick gave him a look. "And if you think you're going, or that you're driving home by yourself, I think you've underestimated things."

Simon didn't respond. He wasn't about to miss the meeting entirely.

"We need to get some ice on that ankle. It's starting to swell." Nick reached down to touch the swollen ankle gently through Simon's dark dress sock. Simon grimaced even at the light touch. His ankle was pressing against the edge of his dress shoe, a sensation close to agony.

"I'll help you to my car, and then I'll drive you home."

Simon began to protest. "But I-"

"Let's go." Nick's voice was determined as he slipped an arm under Simon's. "No buts."

Standing proved its own challenge, as Simon dangled his foot above the ground. Nick nodded. "Go ahead and test it."

Simon took a deep breath and placed his right foot on the ground.

"Oh! Ahh!" He cried out, despite his attempt to remain stoic and silent. He immediately yanked his foot back up, feeling helpless, and found himself leaning on Nick's shoulder.

Nick sighed. "Okay, this is going to be slow going."

It took them some time to navigate the parking lot, with Nick checking for fallen debris as he helped Simon hobble along as he placed the least weight possible on his right foot.

Somehow, they reached Nick's car. After moving the passenger seat back as far as it would go, Nick helped Simon to climb in, advising that he elevate his foot on the dashboard. Simon obeyed, exhausted from the walk across the parking lot.

Nick climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door, starting the car. He backed the car out and exited the parking lot before speaking.

"You actually thought driving yourself was a good idea? Can you imagine putting your foot on a gas pedal and pressing down? You can barely put your foot on the ground."

Simon leaned his head back against the headrest and sighed. "I know," he grumbled. He knew now he would not have managed. "I wasn't thinking." He didn't say any more, because every jolt in the road jostled his ankle, and he was in very great pain.

Simon directed Nick as they approached his apartment building. The drive wasn't long. As Nick helped Simon from the passenger seat, the doorman came over to them, clearly concerned. "Can I help?"

Nick flashed the middle-aged man a smile. "Would you get on his other side? I'll be one second." Nick rummaged through his glove compartment and grabbed a couple of packaged ace bandages and a small bottle. "I told you, I'm used to this." He responded to Simon's puzzled glance.

The doorman nodded to Simon. "You're 19C?"

"Yes."

Together, Nick and the doorman helped Simon into the elevator, and then down the hall to his door. Simon took his keys out of his pocket, and the two other men got him into the apartment and settled on the sofa, right foot elevated on a pillow, still clad in his dress shoe. The minute the doorman left, Nick sat down next to the pillow and lifted Simon's foot. "Let's get a look."

Simon straightened. "Kindly be careful."

"Oh, it'll hurt, make no mistake."

It did. Nick tried to be as quick as possible, but the tugging sensation was agonizing. "Ah!" Simon called out, eyes wide from the shock of the pain, before forcing himself to snap his mouth shut. He breathed heavily through his nose, trying to regain his composure.

Nick hissed as he removed Simon's dress sock. "Ouch." He glanced up at Simon, sympathy in his eyes. He sat for a moment, studying Simon's foot. Suddenly, he rose abruptly. "Ice. We need ice." Simon heard his footsteps retreat to the kitchen.

He was back in moments, grinning, ice cubes wrapped in a plastic bag with paper towels in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Your kitchen is really organized."

Simon almost smiled back, glad for the distraction. "I have a very reliable cleaning service."

Nick chuckled and focused on Simon's bare foot, gently positioning it so that he could ice the swollen part. Simon hissed as the ice touched his throbbing ankle. "Damn, that hurts."

"I know. Give it a few minutes, and it'll feel a little better."

After icing it, Nick wrapped Simon's ankle snugly with the ace bandage. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, it's fine." Simon adjusted his foot on the pillow and winced. He glanced at his watch. "You need to hurry. The dinner will begin soon."

"I know." Nick reached into his pocket and took out a bottle. "I'll leave this here. Anti-inflammatories." He shook out a couple and handed them to Simon. "Take these."

Simon picked up the water on the table next to him and obeyed. "Go now. You'll be late. Bad enough I can't attend."

Nick stood up. "Try and get some sleep. I'll call after the meeting and let you know what goes down."

Simon tried to smile. "Thanks."

Nick nodded and swiftly walked out of the apartment.

*

Nick sat in his car, staring at nothing. Where the hell had this come from? He was as straight as an arrow, a playboy by anyone's standards, seducing women like it was his job. Sure, he had a foot fetish and loved everything about women's feet. He loved how small and delicate they were. He enjoyed painted toenails, high heels, sandals... But this was ridiculous. When he'd seen Simon's feet bare, his cock had responded. Long toes, wide at the top, tapering to the neat heel. Smoothly curved arches, not too high and not too low. And really big. Nothing small or delicate about them. Nick blinked. What the hell was going on? After he'd tugged Simon's expensive leather dress shoe off his injured foot, Nick's cock had begun to stir. He had no idea why, but he'd wanted to press his cock to Simon's sole. Even the sight of his bandaged ankle had turned Nick on. Confusion churned through him. Even these thoughts had his cock up and ready.

His breath was coming faster. He was that turned on, just by being in Simon's presence. This was unreal. He glanced at the clock. He was going to be late if he stayed here any longer, but... He looked down. His cock bulged in his dress pants, obviously visible.

Nick swallowed hard and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang up as the pressure on it was released. He unbuttoned the last few buttons of his shirt. Taking a deep breath, he grasped his hard cock in his right hand.

"Ohhh," he moaned, immediately overwhelmed with pleasure. "Ah, ah." He closed his eyes, and all he could see was Simon, sitting there on his sofa with his poor foot on a pillow. The bandage allowed a glimpse of his tanned toes and heel. Nick gasped as he imagined touching these with his cock. His hand stroked faster, up and down, up and down. With his other hand, he reached underneath and touched his balls.

"Ahh!" He cried. He wouldn't last long, he knew he couldn't. Not when he was this turned on. He wanted to prolong the pleasure, but the image of Simon's large foot in his hand kept repeating itself, and he imagined himself sucking Simon's big toe. In his mind, Simon called out, the same brief sound of shock that he'd made when Nick had tugged the show off his sprained ankle. But this time, in Nick's mind, it was a sound of shocked pleasure, not a jolt of pain. "Ohh, ohhh." Nick moaned, writhing against his hand. This was too much. He couldn't stand it. It was the image of the expression on Simon's face that sent Nick over the edge, the same expression as with that sound, but this time it was because Nick's mouth was on his foot, hungrily sucking his toe.

"Uhhhh! Oh, God! Unh, ahhh!" Nick's cock wrenched almost out of his hand as he came, hard. Again and again, his cock jerked, causing Nick to cry out each time.

Finally, Nick slumped back against the seat, gasping. Never could he have imagined a man would drive him to this. He felt very strange. His cell phone rang, bringing him out of his relaxed stupor. Shit. He was definitely going to be late. He grabbed some tissues and wiped the mess of his stomach and shaft, hoping he didn't smell disgusting. Hurriedly, he tucked in his shirt again and buttoned his pants. Opening a compartment, he grabbed some cologne and sprayed it on. Glancing into the mirror, he double-checked his appearance. He looked a bit tired, but that was better than an after-sex glow. Sighing, he started the car and drove off, determined not to think about Simon during the dinner.

To Be Continued...