The First Meeting
I have had to admit for many years now, at least to myself, that I have a mild form of foot fetishism. I say it's only mild because although a woman's feet are often the first thing I notice and I am certainly very strongly attracted and aroused by them and what they can do for me, I am also turned-on by the other, more normal female physical attributes. But, although I can have a normal relationship with a woman without having to include her feet in our sexual activity, they do feature strongly in any truly memorable love-making.
The emotional connections I have with feet obviously go back to sometime around my first actual memory, which is in fact of my Mother playing 'This little Piggy' with my toes. Then, when I was still relatively young, something must have happened that strongly reinforced that early and perhaps latent tendency. From what I have since read on the subject it seems to me that feet became not only linked with emotional well-being but also became an integral part of my overall sexuality, that feet, love and sex somehow became inter-linked.
After I left school I got a job in a leading department store and having spent time in a number of different areas became a salesman in the men's shoe section. I worked hard and did well but quite soon found that my interest was being drawn more and more to women's footwear - which I'm sure I rationalised at the time as being because of the greater opportunity for career advancement. I was attending night classes in fashion and modern design and let people know of my preference and, after some time, I applied for and was successful in getting a job as an assistant buyer in the women's shoe department.
But I had only been in the job a few weeks when I began to realise that my interest involved something deeper than just a job or my career - to my initial concern I found that I was in fact being aroused by women with particularly attractive feet and sometimes by just some of the shoes themselves.
At first I was worried that I was turning into some sort of pervert until, quite by accident I read an article about fetishes that included something about foot fetishism. Once I knew that such a thing existed I read up everything I could find on the subject and began to understand more about myself and my unusual interest.
With that better understanding I became much happier in myself and began to give freer rein to my activities. I started a collection of women's shoes that had a special appeal for me, as well as some other, associated things, stockings, garters and such. The collection gave and still gives me enormous pleasure, both intellectually and emotionally and, from time to time when my need is particularly strong, sexually too - and many a lonely evening has been made more pleasurable by polishing and handling certain pairs of shoes before using one or more of them while I masturbate.
But, like any other male, I still had girl friends in the normal way - and of course my work gave me plenty of opportunity to meet women, after all I was both working with and serving them all day long.
I could, and still can, honestly be described as 'a man who truly loves his work'!
I have had a number of what might be called 'adventures' that resulted from girls and women I met through my job but what turned out to be the most exciting of them all actually began in a very ordinary way. It was one of those quiet mornings that you sometimes get in any business, my boss was on holiday and as there had been few customers I let the other two assistants go off to morning tea together, leaving me alone in the department.
I noticed her the moment she walked in - she was beautifully dressed and I knew, from just the way she walked, that her feet would be lovely too. A quick glance at them confirmed that, and the shoes she was wearing also caught my eye - neat, obviously expensive court shoes, of an unusual design that I guessed had probably been bought overseas. I tried to imagine just what her tiny feet would be like and quietly prayed that she actually wanted to try on some shoes, so I could get to actually handle them!
Looking up I took a quicker look at the rest of her - a dark suit, superbly tailored to show off her trim figure, the skirt just short enough to display slim, well-shaped legs - above that; an oval face, framed by short, dark hair - a generous mouth and wide-set, dark brown eyes - that, as mine finally reached them, I found were sparkling with amusement at my very obvious inspection of her.
I felt myself colouring, smiled back and wished her - 'Good-morning' - then asked. 'May I help you - or would you prefer to browse a little first?'
And was delighted to hear her positive response. 'You may be able to help me. I'm actually looking for a style similar to these I have on, but in a light blue, or perhaps a grey. Do you have anything like that?'
'Not in the same quality of shoe as those.' I answered, then asked her. 'But may I ask what you are planning to wear them with?'
'They're for a wedding actually, to go with a linen suit, why?' she answered with a quizzical expression.
'So you probably wouldn't be wearing them on a regular basis, for business for example.'
'Probably not.' she said, beginning to understand my line of thought.
'Well, if it's a question of colour rather than durability I think the shoes I have in mind will be very suitable.' I explained and, not forgetting either my sales skills or my growing need to actually feel her foot in my hand, added. 'If you would like to take a seat, I'll just check your size - a four AA isn't it?'
Her eyebrows rose as she heard my estimate of her fractional fitting. 'It's a four - but just a four A. But how could you tell?'
I smiled. 'Let's just call it the result of professional interest - but I'll check it anyway, that is if you don't mind. You have lovely feet and we certainly wouldn't want to mis-fit them.' I added - and was thrilled to see that my little compliment actually brought a slight flush to her cheeks.
I led her to a seat and sat on the fitting-stool in front of her and, as she removed one shoe and then lifted her foot into my waiting hand, flicked my eyes up and gave her a small, nervous smile, noticing that her face seemed almost as tense as I was feeling. In passing I caught the briefest glimpse of her nylon clad leg but I really only had eyes for her foot and, as I felt the warm smoothness of it resting lightly on the palm of my hand, felt my heart start racing a little faster. I sat there, just holding it for several seconds - and slowly became aware of a stirring of a different sort, deeper inside myself. But then I also became aware of her staring down at me and forced myself into activity, measuring and checking with unnecessary accuracy the various contact points. Doing my best to disguise the fact that I was doing anything that would delay the moment when I would have to put her foot down again.
Finally I looked up at her and said. 'I think we'll find that the double A will be a more comfortable fit, in this particular shoe anyway - but I'll bring both for you to try.'
Even through my own growing excitement I couldn't help noticing that her tension seemed to have risen too. I was suddenly worried that I had made her nervous by holding her foot for as long as I had. So, with reluctance I put it down and got up to fetch the shoes I had in mind.
While I was in the stock-room I took the opportunity to try to calm myself, taking several deep breaths, telling myself that I mustn't be stupid, this was a customer, I was the sales assistant. But my pep-talk wasn't too successful and I could still feel my heart racing as I walked back towards her with the two pairs of shoes.
Having sat down in front of her again I helped her on with the first pair, she stood and walked around a little, getting the feel of the them, then we repeated the process with the second pair - and I could tell from just the way she walked that they were, as I had anticipated, noticeably much more comfortable.
She looked straight down into my eyes, smiling, as she said in a surprised tone. 'You did know didn't you? You were quite right, these are definitely a better fit.'
I was thrilled - but tried to hide my reactions as I smiled back at her. 'I'm glad. How is the colour?'
'It's almost exactly what I had in mind. They will do perfectly. Thank you, I hadn't expected to find a pair so quickly.'
That was that - it must have been one of the fastest sales I had ever made and I only had one more, all too brief moment of pleasure as I helped her out of the new pair and back into her own shoes. As I did that, thinking I might never see her, or her feet again, I just couldn't resist the temptation, and, as I eased off first one and then the other shoe, I ran my hand right along each foot - almost caressingly stroking the delicate arches between her toes and her heels - and as I did so feeling my head momentarily swimming.
For a split-second I thought I detected a faint tremor run through her as my fingers lightly traced the outline of the curve - but though our eyes met briefly, neither of us said a word and the moment passed. Then as I wrapped the shoes I tried desperately to think of a reason to detain her, of something I could say to her and though I had often 'chatted-up' customers, with her I found I had become totally speechless. To make things worse she paid in cash, not with a charge card, so I had no single point of contact and knew that once she walked away the chances were that I would never see her or her feet again.
At home that night I thought of her - and of her feet - and after spending a long time cleaning and fondling a similar pair of shoes, I relieved my pent- up need with them.
She Came Again
Several days passed, the memory of her had stayed sharp and clear but I had really had no reason to believe she would ever be anything more than that, a memory - until I saw her coming into the department again, almost a week later. As luck would have it, when she did I was already serving another customer - but, as our eyes met briefly and then, when she saw that I was busy, I was surprised and delighted to see that instead of heading for another assistant she began to browse amongst our displays. I hoped, yet at the same time I didn't dare to hope - and thought of all the reasons why she should want to see me rather than someone else. There was something wrong with the shoes, they didn't fit after all, they were the wrong colour, they had a flaw of some sort. The sort of things customers use all the time to justify their return of a purchase - which is when they usually want to see the same assistant as the one they bought from.
I had actually managed to convince myself that I was going to hear her giving me one of the standard excuses - but, as soon as I was free and she headed towards me, I knew from the expression on her face that something was different, she was smiling, shyly.
'The shoes I bought are wonderful, they are so comfortable that I wondered what else you might have, that are similar. And I especially wanted to wait for you - you took so much care in fitting me - so I also wanted to thank you for your help.'
I felt sure that the stress that I thought I had heard in her voice when she said 'fitting', was something my own brain had added, not something she had actually meant and while I stood there, grinning like a village idiot, I desperately hoped that the grin successfully masked the actual, violent churning that was going on inside me - and it was only with great difficulty that I managed to respond in a voice that at least sounded fairly close to normal. 'Thank you, I was only too pleased to help. As a matter of fact there are several pairs I would be very happy to - ' I paused briefly, carefully watching for her reaction as I completed the sentence, ' - to fit, for you!'
I was thrilled to see her reaction to the slight stress I added to the word 'fit' - I was convinced that I saw not only a slight arching of her eyebrows but also, I thought, a brief gleam in her eye. Evidence, no matter how slight, that I hoped indicated at least a faint interest in what I had in mind - so, I continued quickly. 'If you would like to take a seat and give me a few minutes, I'll bring several pairs for you to try on.'
I held my breath and I'm sure my heart actually stopped for a second or two, then she answered, in almost a whisper. 'Yes, I would like that - very much. Thank you.'
She turned away and, as though she already knew exactly where she was going, made for a group of three chairs that faced the back wall of the department, and putting her hand-bag on one and her suit jacket other, then sat on the one in the middle.
Once again I used the time in the stock-room to try to take stock of the situation. Was I reading things into her actions that were simply figments of my imagination or my unusual needs? Was she simply returning to someone who had been able to better identify the fitting her feet needed? Or, had my handling of her feet aroused something inside herself - something that perhaps she hadn't previously been aware of!
I hoped, yet I didn't dare to hope...
I returned, carrying several boxes of shoes, pulled over a fitting-stool and sat in front of her and then, without my asking her to do so, she lifted one foot for me to take off her shoe and in doing so treated me to a brief glimpse of the inside curve of her thigh. It may have been only brief but it was still long enough for me to see the dark welt that marked the top of her stockings - she was wearing stockings, not pantyhose!
That, plus the warm suppleness of her foot resting in my hand were more than enough to get me going, I couldn't help myself - I gently pressed her small, evenly spaced toes with my fingers, then curved my hand up around the well-formed arch of her foot. This time there was no doubt about her reaction, this time I definitely felt a tremor run through her!
I looked up into her eyes and, making an effort to control my rising excitement quietly said. 'You have truly exquisite feet - I hope you take extremely good care of them.' Then, as I gave her a small, shy smile, added. 'Or, have someone who does it for you.'
The colour in her cheeks deepened a little but I was happy to see just the trace of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she answered. 'Yes - and - No. But - I really think I should try on some shoes, don't you.'
I nodded, fumbling amongst the boxes with one hand, the other not prepared to let go of its prize.
There were a couple of pairs that I felt sure she wouldn't like and I showed her those first, not surprised when she shook her head at them - but the third pair took her eye. 'Yes, they look nice, may I try them on please.'
We must have spent at least twenty to thirty minutes at what by then I felt sure was a mutually stimulating activity, she giving me the pleasure of handling her stockinged feet with growing intimacy between each pair of shoes she tried on. Me giving her - what, I wondered? My answers ranged all the way from - a game of 'let's tease a shop assistant today', to 'at last I've found a man who loves handling my feet' - feeling sure that the answer was in fact somewhere closer to the former than to the latter. But I didn't care, I was in my own private heaven, almost oblivious of everything but the feel of her beautiful feet.
Everything but her feet and my accompanying erection that is!
But sooner or later the real world had to intrude of course and I was suddenly pulled out of my reverie by her looking at her watch, pointing to a pair of shoes and saying. 'I hadn't realised the time, I must dash. I'll take those, the navy blue pair, please.'
That was it, she was then in such a rush that try as I might I couldn't delay her for any reason and, once again I watched as she walked out of the department - perhaps out of my life!
My mind was in a whirl and my body was vibrating like a piano string. Somehow I felt sure that she loved what I did as much as I loved doing it, so why had she just dashed off like that? Why hadn't I got her name, phone number, something? I had been so caught up in the pleasure of the moment I hadn't even thought of asking - 'I'm such a fool!' - I said, cursing myself. 'The chance of a lifetime and you just let her get up and walk out!'
That night, even more strongly than the previous time, I replayed the half hour of bliss in my head, over and over again. The feel of her toes and feet in my hands, the picture she made as she took a few trial steps, of her tiny ankles and the sweet curve of her calves, the brief glimpses she had given me of the warm, stockinged curves higher still. And again I had to be content with emptying my aching balls alone, just one or two of my favourite shoes doing the work, while I fantasised that it was actually her exquisite feet that were doing it for me.
The next few days were a disaster, I spent each one watching for her; praying she would suddenly appear, convincing myself she had, only to find it was someone else that didn't even really look at all like her. I was inattentive with my customers, short with my colleagues, very nearly rude to my boss and it was only after that episode that I realised what a fool I was being - and gave myself a good talking to, making a determined effort to try to put her out of my mind.
I wasn't completely successful of course and the fact that she returned to my thoughts and stimulated my lonely activities each evening didn't help much.
Two weeks went by like that - then she returned. It was late afternoon, with less than an hour to go before our closing time and the department was relatively quiet. I had been tidying up one of our displays in the front section when I saw her approaching and this time, unlike the others I positively knew it was her. Glancing around behind me I saw that my boss was busy preparing an order for one of our suppliers, one of the assistants was serving the only other customer, and the others were nowhere to be seen - so I approached her, smiling nervously.
'How lovely to see you again. May I help you?'
I could see how tense she was and for one dreadful moment I thought she was going to turn and walk away, she didn't but her own nervousness showed clearly in her voice when she answered me. 'Good afternoon. I was passing, I mean I was, well that is, I was wondering - about some shoes. Something a little out of the ordinary. But then I don't suppose you have any.'
I tried to calm her. 'Why not take a seat and I'll see how I can help, I'm sure I can.'
She just nodded, gave me a tiny smile and once again headed for the group of three chairs where she had sat previously. As before, I sat on the stool in front of her and was thrilled when, again without my asking and even before she had told me what she was looking for, she lifted one foot into my waiting hand. I carefully slipped off her shoe and I heard myself give a small sigh of pleasure as once again I held the warm softness of her foot.
Neither of us said anything for a minute or two but as my fingers held and explored the curves made by her instep and toes I looked up at her, her eyes were staring down at my hand but as I fondled her I could see the faint lines of tension vanishing from her face. I broke the silence.
'Just what kind of shoe were you looking for please?'
I saw her mentally shake herself before, in a very small voice she answered. 'High heels. Something with high heels - I mean very high heels.'
A picture instantly flashed into my mind; a picture of her standing in front of me, her lovely feet inside a tiny pair of glossy black shoes, shoes that had impossibly high heels - and I felt my hands grow damp with excitement. Then I ran through what I knew we had in stock; some but not too many shoes with ultra-high heels, nothing like what I had imagined of course - in her difficult fitting? I thought there were a few.