The Headmaster's Office 07: Sundara

"And then what?" Belinda asked breathlessly; I could feel her squirming in my arms and I was secretly pleased to be able to pay her back for the sexy stories she tells me.

"And I don't have any more," I said. "I don't know where to take it from there. I don't really want to fuck the store attendant. I'm not being prudish about it; it's just not as hot as having him look up my dress and I think it should finish on a high note."

I could almost hear Belinda thinking and I could certainly hear her breathing. The ring and little finger of my hand on her breast were touching her ribcage and I could feel her heart hammering nineteen to the dozen in there. This was confusing for me; what she said about not being an exhibitionist was true and I was wondering what part of my flashing fetish had her so worked up.

"In your fantasy," she began slowly, "would you bring a lover shopping with you?"

"Um?" I thought about it for a moment. "Is that so I'd have to be more discreet? I don't think so; it's hot because I'm being so brazen, not because I'm frightened of being discovered."

"What if the lover was watching you too?" she asked. "Because they wanted to see your pussy, and ..." she trailed off.

"And?" I encouraged her along.

"And maybe the lover's fantasy is to watch the clerk looking up your dress."

"That would be OK," I replied tentatively. Actually, that would be super hot; two people looking at me but the clerk doesn't know he is being watched. I wriggled tighter into Belinda's body.

"And the clerk is watching you, but nobody is watching the lover, except you of course," she went on, more confidently this time. "So she ..." she paused, "um, he or she is masturbating behind the shelves across the store, maybe flashing you too while you watch."

Oh my! What had I tapped into here?

"And then you leave the store," she continued, "all hot and frustrated and you go straight home and have explosive sex with the lover." She paused to let that bit sink in. "Is that finishing on a high note?"

Cuddled into me as she was, Belinda's head was right in front of my mouth; so she could certainly tell from my breathing what I thought about it. "Yes," I husked. "That is definitely finishing on a high note."

"You'd only need to change one thing," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"The lover wouldn't be able to see your pussy from across the store," she said. "So you might have to lose the pink panties."

I felt a shopping trip coming on. "Would that...," I had to clear my throat; God, why was my mouth so dry and my pussy so wet? "Would that qualify as a Special Occasion?" I asked, still wondering when I would get to see the new toy her mystery man had made for me.

Belinda didn't answer. She rolled over and pulled me close, one hand under the curve of my waist and the other stealing beneath my nightie. "We need new shoes for the Spring Ball," she whispered in my ear.

My mouth was so dry now I couldn't even swallow. "When?" I croaked as her fingers snaked under the waistband of my panties.

"Tomorrow after school," she replied.

We kissed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day of waiting.

~~~

"Hello. Namaste," he said, his voice was accented with the clipped precise consonants that were so familiar from my parents and their friends. "Welcome to Sundara. My name is Rajit. How can I be of assistance?"

I could feel the cotton of my summer school dress brushing across my bare pussy and felt completely exposed, like I was standing on a mirrored floor. Here goes.

"Namaste," I smiled back at him. "Sorry, but now you've exhausted my entire Hindi vocabulary." Voe-cabb-you-lair-ree. Oh my God, I'm talking with my parents' accent. What's wrong with me?

"No, it is I who should be sorry," he apologised. "This place, Sundara; it means beautiful and charming in Hindi, so I am very accustomed to serving beautiful Indian women." He paused and looked away, realising he had just paid a brazen compliment. Looking back into my eyes with a bashful smile he said: "It is not the worst job I have ever had." Oh, bravo, what a recovery! Aussie understatement from an Indian boy; I could feel Belinda beaming beside me. I was now positive she had scouted this store earlier.

I noticed that Rajit was actually a little taller than me; a nice change from peering down at Belinda all the time. I was surprised at how he set off the Indian mannerisms that I didn't even know I had when I realised I had lowered my eyes and was watching him through my eyelashes. What was more surprising was that I liked the way it made me feel and I found myself smiling and flashing my eyes at him.

"I'm going to browse," Belinda said softly, touching me on the hip with her fingertips as she stepped past and around Rajit. Once she was behind his back, she reached down and scratched the back of her thigh, lifting her dress to expose the smooth curve of her bare bottom to anyone watching, which of course was only me. I remembered why we here and felt another flush of adrenalin course through me, setting off tingles in my breasts and deep in my stomach.

I hadn't said anything since Rajit's lovely compliment and he seemed compelled to save me by continuing as if he was still finishing a thought. "Actually it is refreshing to serve Australian girls," he said. As he was talking, I began walking towards a row of shoes but I kept eye contact so that he would come and browse with me. "They seem ..." he paused to think of the word.

"Exotic?" I suggested. Goodness! Did I just say that?

He laughed as if I had made a joke rather than a fool of myself. "I was going to say that they seem less inclined to judge an Indian man who is not a doctor or an IT professional."

I looked down and fingered a lovely black sling back so that he wouldn't see the guilt on my face. I expected that he would judge me because I was Indian and instead I realised that in doing so I was judging him; not by his occupation but by his race. He was right though; many immigrant parents -- not just Indians -- push their children towards professions that they perceive as being more successful. It made me reflect; as progressive and Australian as my parents behave; I still have not discussed my career with them. They expect that I will go to university next year to study science or IT, but more and more I have been considering applying to the Australian Institute of Sport for a netball scholarship. And everybody says I should do modelling ... what would my parents say about that?

"Rajit, can I ask a personal question?"

"Only if you tell me your name," he said in deep tones that I was beginning to find very manly and attractive. "That way we won't be strangers."

I looked back up into his smiling eyes. "I'm Rupali," I said, holding out my hand to shake.

He took my hand firmly but gently, his skin felt warm and soft and gave me a bit of a tingle. "The name Rupali also means 'beautiful'," he said, "although I'm sure you already knew that."

I did. I thought he was going to say something cheesy like 'a beautiful name for a beautiful girl' -- or worse -- but he didn't. "Now that we are introduced, Rupali, you may ask your personal question."

I picked up a patent leather lace-up pump (laces are so, so sexy) and continued to browse as we talked.

"How did you explain your career to your parents?" I asked. "And how did they react?"

"I am sorry," he laughed. "I have misled you; this is not my career. I completed a Bachelor of Science with a Physiology major last year and have enrolled for a Bachelor of Podiatry at the University of Sydney next year. I took a gap year to work in a shoe shop; here I will see more feet in twelve months than I will in twelve years of private practice, so I should get a very good idea of whether I want to devote my career to feet."

I felt a little flood of warmth through my core; oh my goodness, a tall, handsome man with a double-degree, I'm such a snob to like him more because he is educated.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean ..."

"No," he smiled, holding up a hand. "Again there is no need for apologies." Then changing the subject to save me again: "Those shoes are very beautiful," he said, taking it from me. "Would you like to try them on? I believe they will suit you very well."

"Um, OK," I said. "Yes please." I felt another surge of adrenalin as I remembered why I was here. I saw Belinda smile at me from across the store and give me two thumbs up.

"What size are you?" he said, looking down at my feet. "A ladies size eight?"

"That's right!" I said, more impressed than I ought to have been at such a simple trick for someone with a good eye. "I take an eight-and-a-half in some shoes because the right foot is too snug; I think it's a little bigger."

"Let me get the Brannock and we'll find out for sure," he said, taking a few steps away and returning with one of those stainless steel foot measuring devices. "If you don't mind Rupali, I will take the measurement standing," he explained as he kneeled and placed what he called the Brannock beside my right foot. I was about to kick off my school sandals when he looked up at me (I wondered how much closer he would need to be to see up my dress), "May I help you with your sandals, Rupali?"

"Oh! Uh, sure." I was a little bit charmed by his politeness and chivalry. Unbidden, a lightning flash image lit up in my head; lying naked beneath him in bed as he asked 'May I put my cock in you now, Rupali'. I quickly raised a hand to my mouth to hide the smile and was glad that my complexion wouldn't show me blushing.

He unbuckled my sandals and slipped them off my feet, his warm fingers working quickly and dextrously.

"I prefer to take a standing measurement because of the size difference you perceive," he explained. "The foot changes shape, you see, when it is carrying weight. The metatarsals can splay," he traced his fingers down the top of my foot showing me the bones he was talking about, "making the foot wider than when you are seated."

"Now do you normally wear socks with your shoes?" he asked.

I looked down at the short, white socks that are part of our school uniform. The only other shoes I wear socks with are sports shoes.

"No," I answered, my voice a little husky. A tingle ran through me as I anticipated what was coming next.

"May I," he looked up at me again from his supplicant position.

I nodded and bent my knee, raising the heel off the floor in offering. I swallowed hard and hoped he couldn't see my anticipation. God, I came in here with no panties on and now I was getting him to undress me! Who was in charge of this fantasy?

Using both hands, he slipped his index fingers under the sock in the hollow behind my ankle which -- I didn't realise until right then -- turns out to be an erogenous zone for me. As he pushed down with his fingers, I levered my foot up by bending further at the knee and -- as he slipped it over my heel and down past my toes -- I belatedly realised with a breathless rush that my knee had lifted the hem of my school dress over his eyeline. I didn't need to worry about him seeing the panicked look on my face any more; if he had looked up at that moment then all he would have seen was the pink, glistening folds of my pussy.

I was well on my way to becoming fully aroused; it was going to be a very uncomfortable walk back to school and I prayed that we got back in time for Belinda to relieve me before dinner.

While he removed my other sock, I paid more attention to the feeling of his fingertips behind my ankle, so warm and smooth and gentle. Kneeling directly in front of me with his hands around my ankle, I indulged a little fantasy where instead of pushing my sock down, he would stroke upwards, running those strong, smooth hands over my calf, around my knee and then under my dress and up the long muscles of my thigh where he would stop, teasing me, the tips of his fingers just millimetres from the baking entrance of my pussy. It was so vivid that I was almost surprised when he slid my sock down rather than up, but I repeated the same movement as before with my knee; deliberately this time, my pussy buzzing with anticipation and the hope that he would look up.

I reflected with a thrill that I was now technically naked from the waist down and I gave my hips a wiggle just to feel the cotton of my dress swish across my bare bottom.

Sadly Rajit had missed the show; he had folded my socks into a ball and poked then into one sandal. Opening the jaws of the Brannock, he paused for a moment and then looked up at my face. I realised with dull shame that I was waiting for him to touch me again; to pick up my foot and place it in the device, while he was quite rightly waiting for me to do it myself ... which I did, a few seconds too late for it not to be embarrassing.

The steel device was cold and hard after the warm, sensuous touch of his hands, but he worked quickly and expertly and had both feet in and out of it in what felt like just a few seconds.

"It is as I suspected," he said, standing up and looking at my eyes again. "The good news is that your feet are the same length."

"That does sound like good news," I smiled.

"I would be surprised if they were not," he said. "The symmetry of your body and your face is quite perfect, so a difference in bone growth in your feet could really only be caused by a childhood injury; but that seems not to be the case."

Blush! Did he just call my body perfect? I beamed and swished my dress again and caught a glimpse of Belinda impatiently pretending to look at a non-existent watch and then at me.

"The bad news," he continued, "is that your right arch is slightly fallen."

"Oh!" I said. "What should I do?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to say this," he said quietly, "but I recommend you consult a qualified podiatrist and get a set of orthotic inserts for your shoes."

That seemed like sound advice. "Why shouldn't you tell me that?" I asked. As he was talking, Rajit picked out a box containing the lace-up pumps in my size and led me over to a low bench where I could sit; hands in my lap and knees together for the moment.

"This store stocks a range of shoe inserts that are supposed to correct such problems," he explained. "But they are a 'one size fits all' solution to a more complex problem that affects the health of customers' feet. I will share a secret with you," he looked around conspiratorially and I felt another warm flush of endorphins, "I sometimes pay for one myself so that the owner does not detect that I am not selling them."

Rajit 'assumed the position' kneeling in front of me and Belinda quickly circled around the store so that she could see me as he unwrapped the shoes and loosened the laces. "Right foot, please Rupali."

I lifted my foot and pointed my toes for him; straight at his groin, I noticed. Is that Freudian? He slipped it gently onto my foot, touching me all over -- especially around my new erogenous zone behind the ankle -- and sending shivers up my calf. Taking care not to pinch with the laces against my bare skin, he tied it in a perfectly symmetrical bow and then reached for the other shoe.

I saw Belinda looking at me meaningfully from two rows across with a hand under her dress. Was she stroking herself or just encouraging me? Probably both; and it was working! I pointed my left foot for Rajit to slip on the other shoe and placed it back on the floor with my knees a little further apart than was considered modest; although not so wide that he could see my pussy. Yet! I wanted to plant the idea in his head that I was careless with my modesty and that if he was vigilant then he might be rewarded with a glimpse of my panties.

As he completed the knot -- a perfect clone of the other one -- I noticed with a delicious shiver that his eyes did indeed linger on their way back up to my face. I was overjoyed at the success; I was initially afraid that he was just too perfect a gentleman to be true, but it turns out there was a goodly dose of man in there as well. I felt myself getting wetter and I was concerned -- incongruously so, considering what I was planning -- that I would leave a mark on the seat of my dress that he would see.

As Rajit got up, I grasped the edge of the bench and drew my legs in to stand up. Between the low seat, the heels and my long legs; my knees were raised too high and my dress slid all the way down my thighs and pooled in my lap. It would have been fine if it had been intentional, but instinct took over and I yelped with surprise, clutching at my hem to cover my pussy. I heard Belinda gasp from two rows away, so clearly she had gotten the money shot, but I thought that with Rajit in the process of standing and the way the dress bunched in my lap, maybe it was just sexy rather than obscene.

Holding my hem down with one hand, I looked up at Rajit through my eyelashes to see his reaction; he simply smiled and offered me his hand to help stand up, which I accepted and then held for a few seconds as I thanked him.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

For one panicked moment I thought he was talking about my very obvious state of arousal; then I saw him look at the shoes and realised my mistake just in time before I said something else stupid.

"Yes," I said. "The right one does feel a little tighter."

"If you don't mind," he said, "I would like to show you something."

Oh my God! Did my eyes just flick down to his cock? I'm such as slut.

"Of course," I said, clearing my throat a bit. "What is it?"

"I'm not going to sell this to you," he explained, retrieving some translucent shoe inserts from a box beneath the counter, "but I want you to see what the shoes would feel like with orthotics."

I thought orthotics were only for closed shoes, but these ones were a narrow shape that would fit nicely in the pumps without hanging over the edge.

Sitting down again, he quickly unlaced the shoes and replaced them with a pair half a size larger containing the inserts. "Now the left one is just a cushioned insole," he explained, "but the right is one of those corrective inserts I mentioned. I don't recommend it, but it will hold your foot to roughly the correct shape."

With my knees slightly apart again, I was delighted to catch him stealing frequent glances as he fitted and tied the new pumps, once again knotting the sexy laces into perfect bows. Standing up when he was done, he offered me his hand again, which of course I accepted.

"Is that different," he asked.

"They both feel the right size now," I said, "but the right one feels ..."

"Lumpy?"

"Yes!" I giggled. "I was searching for a better adjective, but 'lumpy' describes it perfectly."

"That is because the insert is re-shaping your arch," he explained, showing me with his hand how the foot bends over the insert. "May I try something else?" he asked, gesturing for me to sit down again, which I did, taking care to hold onto my hem.

He removed the right shoe and then, taking my right foot in both hands, he rested it against his thigh, explaining that he was going to massage it to loosen the ligaments, which would mimic what my foot would be like after walking on the insert for a while. I felt another nervous flutter wondering where a sensual massage might lead. With his palms on top of my foot, he closed his strong fingers underneath and pressed gently into my arch.

"Oop!" I squeaked, stealing my foot back. "That tickles."

"I apologise," he said, holding out his hands. "I will take more care."

Ignoring his offered hands, I put my foot back on his thigh much higher than he had placed it before and my breath caught as I felt something move against my big toe. Oh my God, I had made him hard already! I was so tempted to stroke him with my foot, but I resisted and instead pressed firmly down to let him know that my foot was staying right where it was.