The Problem With Smelly Feet

"Geeg, what?" asked Hitomi, and patted my head, making the cowlick bounce up and down.

"Hitomi, I really can't stand being in these boots, and I'd change, but you know... " I began. "Plus home is like a 2 hour ride, and I'm pretty sure I have a few blisters by now. His place is kind of the only solution to avoid an embarrassing situation." I leaned against a tree.

"Oh right, because of the--- oof!" I punched her in the shoulder before she could finish the sentence.

"So, it's settled then," said Roger. "Hitomi you can come too."

****

The great thing about the hotel Roger was staying at was the speedy elevator service, the bad thing was the long hallway that led to his suite. He unlocked the door, and as we stepped in, both Hitomi and I looked around, amazed at the large space.

"Wow," said Hitomi, and let out a whistle. "So what do you do for a living, Roger?" she said his name with air-quotes.

"I'm a professor of fine arts at Brookfair," he said. "And yes, Roger is my name."

His suite had an apartment feel to it, the sitting room was large with a very ornate couch and various chairs, there was a big flat screen TV, a small dining table, and a corner desk. A medium sized kitchen connected to the sitting room via a large entryway, and it had a few appliances like a stove, refrigerator, and microwave. The door on the far end of the room, was the bedroom. I sat on the couch, and Roger kneeled in front of me, and slipped off one of my boots. I immediately turned a deep red, and I swore I saw a visible waft of odor emit from inside the boot as it came off.

Hitomi's eyes widened and she gave a small cough, which made me turn even redder.

"You know, suddenly I feel like cheese," she said. "Got anything to eat?"

"The kitchen is to your right, feel free to peruse the fridge," Roger said as he removed the other boot. To me he said, "How's that? Better?" I nodded.

Hitomi headed towards the kitchen, but turned around and boldly said, "Remember, I have ears and eyes like a hawk! These hands have killed a man, and they're not afraid to do it again!" She made her hands into claw-like gestures, and continued into the kitchen.

"Is she serious?" asked Roger, slipping off my socks.

"No, she's not. She's just Hitomi," I rolled my eyes and shrugged.

He held my feet in his palms, even I was beginning to feel bothered by the odor, yet his face showed no signs of discomfort. He pressed a pair of fingers into my soles, and I jumped, which made him chuckle. He looked me in the eyes.

"Gigi, would you indulge me?" he asked softly.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked. He laid on the floor and scooted his head towards the foot of the couch.

"Place your feet on my face, as if it were a footrest," he said, breath trembling.

"Um..." I didn't know what to say, but I put my feet down and felt the warmth of his cheeks. He was breathing rapidly. Suddenly, I felt something wet run across my sole. I immediately pulled my feet away and sat with my knees against my chest.

"Y-you promised you wouldn't do anything weird!" I stammered, and started shaking. I noticed a growing bulge at the crotch of his pants. The memories of the photos he sent, and that horrific nightmare when all those faceless tongues had lapped at my feet were coming back. I started sobbing.

Hitomi ran in and stood in front of me, as Roger stood up. She glared at him, sat and wrapped an arm around me.

"So, you like feet, huh?" she asked him, smirking. "Okay, $500. Up front." Roger blinked.

"Hitomi, what are you doing?" I asked, softly squeezing her arm. I was still trembling

"He likes feet, so he'll get feet, if he pays," she said looking at me.

"Fine, money is no object," said Roger through clenched teeth and threw a wad of cash onto the couch.

Hitomi began undoing her shoe, and Roger immediately crouched down to help her. She shoved her socked foot into his chest, wagged her finger and shoved him back hard.

"Sit down! And listen well!" she scolded. "You get half an hour. With my feet you can do whatever you want, sniff, lick, suck, massage. I don't care, but keep that thing in your pants. With Gigi, well, she decides. You give her even the slightest amount of discomfort, and we're done. Gone. Got it?"

Roger's eyes narrowed.

Hitomi slipped off her sock, and kicked off her other shoe. Although they weren't fragrant like mine, Roger was immediately attracted to them. She wiggled her pale, black-polished toes at him and he grabbed her foot and shoved it as far as he could into his mouth. I grimaced as a waterfall of saliva gushed from it, and streaked down her foot, dripping at her ankle. He reached for my feet, and Hitomi slammed her other foot into his shoulder, and wagged her finger.

"Ask. her. first," she said coldly, wagging her finger with each word, and pulled her spit drenched foot from his mouth.

"W-what w-would you like me to do, Gigi?" he asked. His eyes had changed. Gone was the calm, cool, polite man I had met only a few hours before, now he looked rabid, and beast-like with drool running down his chin and onto his shirt. I was scared. I didn't say anything. "Well?!" He lunged at me, and Hitomi gave him a hard kick in the face. He grunted and fell to the floor with a thud.

"You stupid waste of flesh!" she yelled. "Have you no sense of respect to know when a woman isn't interested in your stupid fantasies? Especially, after you showed her how you used her socks as a fucking cum rag?!" She pressed her bare foot down on his head.

I had never seen her this angry, sure she had her moments, but this was pure rage.

"This wasn't your original plan, was it?" she asked, pushing him down every time he tried getting up. "I know your type. You collect socks, you've become a connoisseur so to speak. You can tell almost anything about a woman based on the kind of socks she sends; based on the sweat imprint in the material, and you lure them in, find out what they like... or at best guess, and hope they meet you. Then you bring them over and do whatever you please. After all, they owe you, right? You bought them this, you paid for that. You invested. Hoping that they'd see that and give you something in return."

She let him get up to his knees, his nose was bleeding.

"Hmph," she said and threw a sock at him. "Clean yourself up. Come on Gigi, we're leaving."

I grabbed my boots, socks, the box with my clothes and followed her out. He stayed there, dazed, and pressed Hitomi's sock to his nose and inhaled, staining it with blood. We walked down the hallway to the elevator, when he heard his voice telling us to wait, he limped towards us and Hitomi grabbed my boots and threw them as hard as she could, which inadvertently nailed him in the groin. He slumped forward and hit the floor face first. She looked at me and shrugged.

"I'll buy you better ones," she said smiling as the elevator doors opened behind us, and flashed the wad of cash at me. The idiot had thrown $1000 in his aroused stupor. "But we should probably stop by the incinerator first and throw these out.... phew!" She pointed at my socks and fanned her nose with her hand. I smacked her on the shoulder, and dumped my socks in a trash can when we reached the lobby.

"Bet you, five bucks he digs through the trash and finds them," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Don't even joke about something like that! I'm never doing anything like this again!" I said, sighing. "Even if I did like The Pickford." I put on my gummy sandals, and took out my phone, the last train home would be leaving soon.

"Oh, hey Hitomi?" I said. She looked at me and blinked. "You quite possibly saved my life today. Thank you." I hugged her arm. "How'd you know he was a creep? I mean all that stuff you said back there...." She ruffled my hair and flicked at my cowlick.

"His type has a kind of 'creep aura' around them," she shrugged. "I should have grabbed you and left at the cafe, but I knew he wouldn't dare do anything in public. Besides, you were dying to go to that theater. So, I did the next best thing: kicked his ass."

I beamed.

"So, how long did you say you're on vacation for?" I asked Hitomi as we neared the train platform.

"Three weeks I think," she said resting her arm on my shoulder.

"Stay at my place, just like old times?" I asked, pouting.

"Okay sure, only if you promise to wash your feet!" she said sticking her tongue out at me and I chased her onto the train.