The Making

The Making

It had been a disappointing night, but that had not been unexpected. I had reluctantly gone to the party only after the repeated urgings and pleas from my only close friend, who was the host. He was throwing his annual extravaganza, and I guess that he felt that my being somewhat well known, and occasionally mentioned in the media as being 'enigmatic' and even 'mysterious', would somehow enhance his already very large attendance list, which actually already included much better known and regarded personages.

I was in my late thirties, and years earlier had been in the right place at the right time with the right innovation in the information tech explosion, and had made a fortune that would keep anyone beyond financially comfortable and secure for many lifetimes. But I had no desire in becoming one of those tech oligarchs absorbed primarily in accumulating ever more wealth and power. Of a surety, some few did good works along the way, but that was usually ancillary to what had become their major focus.

I had always been far more interested in creativity and innovation, with their frequent and inevitable failings, which became less and less acceptable as greater success was achieved. And so, when I reached that point, well after my financial status had been somewhat serendipitously attained, I withdrew from the power corridors of the ever growing tech colossus in which I had been an early part, and began to dabble once again in the thought processes that had originally set me on my way. I also began to search out and quietly fund research and start-ups of those with similar strivings and ideas. And, as is usually the case, my money itself begat even more money, which also allowed me to set up and help support a number of philanthropic organizations. It was only all of this that gave me any semblance of satisfaction in life

It had never been understood to the public who might be interested, why I had so voluntarily ceded my position in that world. I had become, and could have always been a growing Master of that Universe. Descriptions of me as being aloof, arrogant, even a recluse, abounded. Enigmatic and mysterious were the kinder labels. In truth, being a master of any universe was the opposite of my nature. And while I was in no way a recluse, in reality I was totally socially inept, much of that due to my innate shyness, and my ever present sense of personal unworth.

"You have to come this year." My friend had cajoled me. "Do it for me. And who knows, with the number of people coming, maybe you'll finally find Miss Right."

Ah yes, Miss Right. I knew, of course, that he wanted my attendance more to burnish his own image and reputation as a power broker who could get difficult things done. But he was a long time friend, one of my few, and I had refused him too often in the past. So, in a moment of weakness I finally had acceded this year to his request.

But finding Miss Right? I knew that was never likely to happen. Not that I didn't have such a desire, or that I was anything other than hetero. I had had a few forays into interpersonal relationships over the years, and they had always been disastrous. And I have always been able to acknowledge that the fault for such has ever been my own, and lay within me. Try as I might, I had never been able to get beyond my one driven passion for one particular desire. I have an insatiable and all-encompassing fetish for a woman's feet. I am in awe of them, in reverence of them, and seem to want nothing more in my sexual being than to worship and care for them. This one need always overwhelms any ability which I might have to interact in any meaningful and compatible way with any woman I am with. Needless to say, once this becomes readily evident to any of the few ladies with whom I have made the attempt, it rapidly leads to a quick end. Whether this is because they are disgusted by its underlying nature or not, they accurately perceive that this could never be the basis for an ongoing relationship. And so, in recent years I have made no further attempts, and except for an occasional dalliance with a professional, which slightly fills a need but never the void, I have relegated that aspect of my life, no matter how yearning it may be, to views on the internet, and the cold comfort of my hand.

It was thus with no expectations that I attended my friend's party. He had over two hundred guests, and the party extended into most of the lower floor rooms of his rather large estate. In one of the bigger rooms, he had a small ensemble providing pleasant background music. Most of the other rooms also had their own makeshift bars with bartender, and there was a never-ending supply of circulating attendants with a variety of finger foods. Other than exchanging some superficial pleasantries with the few people there with whom I was personally acquainted, I soon set about to spend the rest of the next several hours in awkward tedium waiting for an appropriate time to leave.

And then I saw Her. There was certainly no paucity of attractive, and even gorgeous women in attendance, and there were a few upon whom I did cast momentary surreptitious peeks downward. But she was different. As so many others there, she was not unattractive, indeed she was stunning in her simple yet sleek black dress that fell just below her knees. But what made her inordinately special to my eyes was what came below... flawless bare legs that tapered down to alluringly slender ankles, and the most divine feet I had ever encountered. They were perfectly proportioned, from her heels through her high arches to her exquisitely pedicured toes.

She wore thinly strapped, open-toed, low back, four-inch, not quite stiletto heels. When I first saw her, she was sitting on a high barstool lightly conversing with a gentleman next to her, with one of her legs crossed over the other, and her shoe dangling and swaying in a slow, almost sensuous rhythm as she talked. The effect was hypnotic, at least to me, and I had to wrench my attention painfully away before it became too apparent. But when she stood and began to move around to other rooms to interact with others, I found myself following at a distance, trying to catch further glimpses of her glorious peds. I never sought to engage her and thus ruin the spell with my social inadequacy. Finally, after many such wanderings behind her, I broke away to stop torturing myself with unachievable longings. I entered one on the smaller rooms, where the crowd had markedly thinned, and sat down at the far end of one of the corner couches to await the time when I could more comfortably feel that my obligation had been filled and I could leave.

It was in the blind contemplation of counting down the minutes to that time, staring at the side wall, when I was startled out of my oblivion by someone sitting down next to me, barely an arms-length away. When I turned to see, I was even more stunned. It was her.

"May I sit down here?" she asked, which seemed more than strange, as she already had.

"Um... ah... yes... of course" I stammered incoherently in reply.

"Thank you." She answered with a small smile. I became even more flustered as an expectant silence seemed to grow between us, as I could think of nothing more to say. She finally took the reins of our encounter.

"I have to admit that I couldn't help but notice how you have been gazing at my feet all evening."

I was taken even further aback. Gazing?!?! Furtively glancing perhaps. Or, I guess, maybe not so furtively at times, as I had become so entranced this time that my usual peeping had not been so diligently covert as usual.

"No... ah... I mean... I'm sorry... I mean... ah... please forgive me." I stuttered out.

"It's alright." She said, and then with a more encouraging smile, asked, "Do you think I have pretty feet?"

Caught out as I was, I had no ability to deny. "They're beautiful." I breathed.

Her smile became dazzling. "Thank you. I like to think so as well." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I do so appreciate a man who admires a woman's feet. I suspect there are many such out there, but so few seem to act upon it." Her smile now turned to a small frown. "That may be though because too few women let themselves overcome their initial reluctance and allow themselves to recognize the joys that can come of it." Her smile returned. "But I am not one of those." She declared. "I am always 'stimulated' when a man pays attention to my feet, and fully embraces all that comes with it." She paused once again, and then. "My name is Sariana, by the way. And you're...?"

"Rhett." I answered.

"As in Rhett Butler?" she inquired mischievously.

"My mother was a huge fan of that movie." I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So was my Mom and Gram." She exclaimed. "Now we have something else in common."

I tingled internally as I tried to wrap my mind around that last statement, and what it might portend.

"Well, it's been very nice meeting you, Rhett," she added suddenly, "but the party does seem to be winding down, and I have to arrange for an Uber to take me home."

Just as suddenly, not wanting this meeting to end, and shocking myself, I blurted out. "I have my car here, and I'd be happy to drive you home."

She looked at me intently for a long moment. "How very gallant of you. I think I would like that very much" she concluded. "Shall we go?" With that she rose off the couch and began to walk away, and I hurried to follow. A short minute later we were giving our thanks and bidding our goodnights to our host, and after she walked by, he gave me a grin and a small thumbs up. Surprising myself again, I began to hope that it wouldn't become a big thumbs down from her later.

It was about a thirty-minute drive to her home, and the time passed in a blink and a blur. We talked the entire way, mostly with her asking me questions about myself, and I was astounded at many of the things that I related that I had never discussed with anyone before. Maybe it was not so startling, as she already seemed to know my innermost secret. She also revealed a few things about herself, that she lived alone, that she had no siblings, that her father had died the year before, her mother a number of years earlier, and that she now ran and was growing a small business that her father had started several years before.

Her house was of modest size, in a very nice neighborhood. After I pulled into her driveway, I hopped out of the car and hurried around to open the car door for her to let her out, much as I had done at the start to let her in.

"Gallant once again. Thank you." She said as she stepped out. She paused a moment before giving me a very warm smile. "I just want to say once again, Rhett, that it has been very nice and I have enjoyed meeting and talking to you tonight. But these heels have been killing me though. They may look nice but they're very uncomfortable, and after being in them all night my feet are very tired and sore, so I need to say goodnight, and get inside to get them off and rub down my feet."

"I can help you with that."

I was instantly mortified with this almost involuntary outburst, even as such thoughts had been in the back of my mind for the entire drive. I just never could have imagined that I would ever give a voice to them. She regarded me for several long seconds before her smile brightened even more.

"Oh my." she enthused. "That would really be lovely. I think I would like that very much. Come, follow me." And with that she turned and proceeded to her front door. It took me a stunned few more seconds before I hastened after.

The inside of her home was cozy and warm. After giving me a brief tour of the first floor, the kitchen, dining room, and den, we finally entered a rather spacious living room. She went over a sat down in one of the plush easy chairs, settled back and crossed one of her legs over the knee of the other, and let her shoe dangle off the front of her foot.

"I do believe that you offered..." she indicated.

I needed no further invitation. I went down onto my knees before her, and carefully removed both of her heels. I then took that first foot into my hands. It was warm and slightly moist from its long enclosure. Using all of my other fingers to hold the top of her foot, with both of my thumbs I began to slowly press and rotate with increasing firmness, first on the ball, then after some time, down into the arch, followed later around her heel before proceeding up the outer side back up to her toes where, with my thumb and forefinger I gave each one individual attention. I repeated this process a number of times before doing all the same with her other foot.

It was while on her second foot that I heard her first contented sigh. My entire focus had been on her feet to that point, but I then risked a glance upwards to find that her head was held back and her eyes were closed, with a look of total serenity on her face. A palpable thrill ran through me that I could be providing her such comfort, and spurred me to redouble my efforts, as I alternated between both of her feet several more times, before she finally stirred and brought her foot from my grasp and placed it on the floor.

"That was truly heavenly, Rhett." she offered. "I don't think that my feet have ever felt so... relaxed. How can I thank you?"

I knew how, without a shred of doubt, but it took all of my courage to ask.

"May I... may I please... possibly... kiss your feet?"

Her smile was now one of beneficence.

"I think you've certainly earned that." she answered. "You may."

Exhilarated beyond coherent thought, I slowly bent down toward the floor and brought my lips gently, reverently, to the top of her foot. I let it linger there as long as I dared, inhaling in her scent as well as her taste, before moving on to perform the same obeisance to her other foot. As I finally... achingly... forced myself to pull up and away, she spoke once again.

"A girl could really get used to all of this very quickly." She said softly. "Might this all be something you'd like to do again, Rhett?"

"Oh God yes, Sariana." I practically moaned.

"So would I, I think." she replied. She took several long moments, as if trying to decide and then, "Why don't you come back here next Friday evening, say around 7. I think that after a long week at work, my feet will be more than ready to be pampered so again."

"I'll be here." I promised.

"Wonderful." She said. Another long pause. "There is one condition, though." she abruptly added.

"What is that?" I immediately asked, trying desperately to keep the edge of panic from my voice that it all may still fall away.

"I can see by the bulge in your pants how excited you've been through all of this." I felt my face reddening. "I think I would like it very much if you didn't try to relieve yourself of that tonight after you leave. Indeed, if you didn't relieve yourself in that regard at all for the entire week until you return. That would please me a great deal, and I think it will make the experience for both of us next Friday all that much more... enticing. Do you think you'll be able to do that? For me?"

"I will." I swore.

"Good. Very good. That will make me very happy." she concluded. "And now Rhett, I think it really is time to say goodnight. Until Friday, then."

I fervently agreed. "Until Friday."

***********

It didn't take me long to realize how difficult it was going to be for me to keep that final pledge, both that night, and for the rest of the week. Especially as the events of that evening kept playing over and over again in my head. My mind was in an almost continual state of arousal, and my body not very much less. I tried to distract myself with my tech research, both my own and of others for whom I might give support. But I found it impossible to maintain the concentration needed for such intricate considerations. Minutes now passed like hours, and hours seemed like days.

In this heightened state, which at times often bordered on frenzy, I began to seriously question the necessity of this excruciating self denial. This was a woman I had known for a mere few hours, although I had to admit she had already planted roots in my psyche. Would she ever even know? With a sudden clarity, I came to understand the reality... I would know. She had given me a task and I had sworn to comply. To do so would prove that I could. And would. To me. And for her.

Finally, blessedly, Friday came. Parking several blocks away, I arrived on her street a good hour before the appointed time, taking no chances that I would be late. At precisely 7 o'clock I rang her doorbell. She promptly answered.

"Ah, right on time, Rhett," she greeted me. "Punctuality is something else that I very much like. Please, come in."

Was it my imagination, or did she seem as excited as I felt. She looked enchanting, wearing a midnight blue kimono, belted at her slender waist, and falling just below her knees. Once again, her sublime legs were bare, drawing my eyes irresistibly down to her open-toed, slipper clad feet. Seeing the direction of my attention, she smiled knowingly and turned away, beckoning me to follow. This time she went directly to her living room, and settled back immediately into her easy chair as I stood before her.

"it's been a long week, Rhett." If she only knew. "And my feet are in dire need of succor."

Just give me the word, I implored internally.

"But while I know that we're both dying for you to begin your exquisite ministrations, don't you think that the experience will be greatly enhanced... " she paused in almost gleeful anticipation, "... if you were naked while doing so."

I remained rooted in place, stupefied.

"Well, don't you?" she prodded.

I snapped out of my daze. "Yes... yes... of course." I stammered.

"Well... " she continued, with a small frown of annoyance at the delay.

I hastened to disrobe where I stood, sensing that she would not be pleased if I moved to do so elsewhere. In less than a minute I was totally exposed before her.

Her lips curved back upwards in seeming appreciation as she took her time to scrutinize me from top to bottom, finally settling with a prolonged regard halfway back up.

"Delightful." She opined.

I wasn't sure if it was due to my acquiescence or my appearance. As much as I might hope, I strongly doubted it was the latter. She handed me a small bottle of scented body lotion, and leaned back in her chair, lifting one of her feet slightly off the floor.

"You may begin."

And I did. Once again going down onto my knees, I first removed both of her slippers. Generously pouring an amount of lotion into my hands, I rubbed them together to warm it, and then picked up her first preferred foot, gently applying it into every area, including around and between each and every toe. Then I more firmly massaged it in to the entire foot, before repeating the entire process with her other one. Once completed, she lifted her first one up and straight out.

"Leg." was all she said.

With more hand-warmed lotion, I worked my way around her ankle and up her perfectly formed calf to the hem of her kimono, just below and around her knee. I made sure to intently massage each area along the way, and when done she put that leg down and raised the other.

When the same moisturizing and massaging of that leg was complete, I lowered it down and resumed my more serious kneading of both of her feet. As before, she lay her head back, and with her eyes closed, her face took a dream-like appearance. I pressed and rubbed and rotated around every spot over and over and over again, eliciting more than a few sighs and moans. After what may have been approaching close to an hour, in a very distant back of my mind I could sense a groaning of my knees after being so long upon them, and a growing ache in my ever moving and gripping hands. But this had little impact or influence on the delirious feeling of purpose and joy that I had as I continued to give the comfort that she so desired. I felt that I could and would go on indefinitely, but she finally slipped her foot from my hands and sat forward.