The Toes That Bind

Lynn was running late. She'd overslept and had to rush to work. She arrived at her office with minutes to spare, and even though she got there on time, she was exasperated. She'd had to throw herself together and drive faster than she liked to. And even when she got to work, things didn't seem to be going right. She momentarily misplaced her office key in her purse, she'd found two memos in her "IN" basket that she knew were coming and dreaded reading, and in her rush she found she'd forgotten some important papers and she knew she'd have to go home at lunch time to get them. She was not a happy camper.

And her woes seemed determined to continue. It being a chilly morning, Lynn had put on the first warm footwear she came across in her bedroom, her last minute rushing precluding a more thorough search. And so it was that she'd put on her tight fitting knee high boots. She'd meant to return them because they were just a touch too small and uncomfortable on her feet. But who ever had the time? And so it was that in her haste, she'd forced her feet and calves into those confining boots, relying on the fact that she could always take them off when she got to her office, where she always kept a spare pair of heels if she needed them. Or she could always go shoeless as long as she sat at her desk. She could switch her boots for other shoes when she went home at noon for those papers she'd forgotten.

However, it seemed that even the tiniest pleasures were to be denied her, for when she sat in her office chair and went to pull down the zipper on her boot, it got stuck. She tugged on it, stretching and twisting her boot, but to no avail. She gritted her teeth and pulled and yanked on the stubborn zipper. Nothing.

It was just at the point where the four letter words were about to erupt from between her clenched teeth that Michael happened by. He had arrived early to catch up on some paperwork when he strolled past Lynn's office and saw her valiant struggle with the obstinate zipper. Lynn was grumbling and battling furiously with it and never even noticed Michael was there.

He stood in her doorway and watched her, smiling. At length, Lynn sat back, exhausted and exasperated, slumping back in her chair and blowing her disheveled hair out of her eyes. She sighed loudly and was preparing for round two when she glanced upward and saw Michael's amused look as he peered down at her.

"Having a problem?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, " she smiled sheepishly up at him, "this damn zipper is trying to drive me insane. I just can't get it to cooperate. But, then, this seems to be the day for it."

"Would you like a little assistance?" he asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Please," she replied, holding her leg up with her boot out to him, "be my guest."

Michael walked over and knelt down in front of her. He braced the sole of her boot on his knee and held the top of her boot with one hand. Grabbing the zipper firmly in the fingers of his other hand, he gave a mighty tug. Nothing. Then he jiggled the zipper and gave another tug. Same outcome. The zipper seemed to be taunting them both.

Michael pondered the situation. As he did, the hand holding the top of her boot seemed to take on a life of its own. Without even knowing he was doing it, the three fingers that were curled down inside her boot started to caress the silky smoothness of her nylon covered calf. Michael didn't notice it......but Lynn did. She almost said something to him, but then realized that he was unaware he was even doing it. So she just smiled and went back to thinking about the problem at hand. Michael adjusted himself, getting down on both knees, hoping the new position and better balance would bring about a different outcome to the situation.

Michael thought about trying to get her boot off by simply pulling it off her foot, but then realized that the boot was entirely too tight on her foot and calf for that to work. With a sigh, he began to think that his chivalrous gesture was for naught. But then, when he tried one final, gentle, nonchalant pull on the zipper... amazingly....it glided down its tooth-lined path as if it had never been stuck! Both Michael and Lynn stared in wonder. They looked at each other, eyes wide in disbelief.

Taking on the air of someone who knew all along he'd solve the problem, Michael removed the boot completely from Lynn's appreciative foot and calf, set it down on the floor, placed her now happy foot on his knee and spread his arms outward, saying, "Voila! Your foot has been rescued, Milady." He then added, smugly, "Nothing to it."

"Oh, well, then, if it's that easy....here." Grinning, she held out her other booted foot, joking. But, to her surprise, Michael braced it on his other knee, grabbed the zipper, and this time easily unzipped her boot. He then slid it effortlessly off her foot and placed it next to her other, less cooperative boot. He placed her second happy foot on his unoccupied knee, and now had Lynn's two relieved tootsies on his knees, toes wiggling in their new- found freedom.

Relieved, but somewhat surprised, Lynn exclaimed, wide-eyed, "Well, thank you, Michael....you're a real sweetie. Those boots were killing my poor feet."

"I noticed they were kinda tight," he said, "so explain to me why you'd want to wear such uncomfortable shoes to work in the first place."

Lynn sighed, sat back in her chair and groaned as she recounted in her head the morning's events so far. She rolled her eyes up, wiped her forehead dramatically, and said, "Michael, it's a long, sad story. Let's just say I was a little rushed this morning."

"Oh, I gotcha....been there." They both laughed.

As they talked and laughed, neither noticed Michael's hands gently rubbing Lynn's insteps and the bottom third of her calves. Eventually, his hands settled with his fingers wrapped around the back of her calves at her heels and his thumbs stroking her outer ankles on each foot.

The two talked for a bit, and Michael just stayed there on the floor on his knees, Lynn's feet resting comfortably on his thighs now, and his warm hands gently caressing the tops and sides of her nylon-covered feet. His warm hands felt great on her feet, which, even though they'd been confined in the tight boots, were nonetheless cool because of the chilly air outside, and Michael's hands rubbing them made it feel as though she'd taken off her boots and put her feet by a nice, warm fire.

"Mmmmm..," Lynn sighed, "that feels great."

Michael looked up at her, eyes questioning. He still didn't realize he was rubbing her feet. Lynn lifted her feet off of his thighs about an inch or so to stretch and wiggle her toes, and, not missing a beat, Michael's hands slid up to the front of those chilly feet and started to knead and rub her toes. The warmth of it made Lynn smile from ear to ear and sigh audibly. It was only then that Michael looked down and saw what he was doing. His eyes got wide with surprise...and he blushed.

"Oh....geez......um, Lynn.....I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take liberties. I mean....I wasn't trying......I mean... really....I wasn't....I wouldn't...."

"Michael, relax.....you're only rubbing my feet. And doing a fine job of it, I might add. Your hands feel great. I didn't realize just how cold and sore my feet were. Don't stop rubbing on my account." Then she smiled and added, "So far, it's the only thing that's gone right today."

"Well," he still stammered a bit, "I still shouldn't have taken the liberty...I mean, I should've asked permission. I mean, honest...I didn't even realize I was doing it....I swear."

"Permission?" she said, amazed at the comment, "to rub my feet?" She stifled a giggle, looked at him down there on his knees still rubbing her feet, leaned forward to him, and enunciated her following words, making sure he could hear them loudly and clearly, "Michael......dear boy......tell you what. You never have to ask permission to rub my feet. You feel free to massage my achy tootsies any time you like.....okay?"

It was then that things took a turn for both of them. When Lynn looked down to watch Michael gently rub his palms and fingertips along her insteps and the sides of her feet while his thumbs worked at the pads and bases of her jubilant toes, she noticed something. She was sure she was right. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle as she saw the definite bulge pressing against the fly of Michael's pants. That bulge was only inches from her wiggling toes and she had the sudden urge to play with that bulge with her feet. But all she did was look back upward to Michael's face. It was flushed with more than just embarrassment now. And not only that, but he now had her feet propped up on his thighs by the heels and was using his thumbs to knead the tired and tender flesh of her soles and high arches. And his eyes were now riveted on her feet.

Lynn just sat there watching Michael soothe her feet. But it was his eyes that most held her attention, for they darted over her feet, obviously admiring them as he rubbed. He was smiling and sighing as his talented hands moved from place to place, soothing as they went. Between the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips, Lynn could tell that Michael was very much enjoying massaging her feet. And the bulge roaring proudly at his crotch told her that he not only enjoyed rubbing her feet.....but he enjoyed her feet themselves. My God, she thought, he's actually getting turned on by my feet!!!

She wasn't sure what to do. Michael's hands were making her feet tingle with joy. And that look in his eyes, and that proud, straining member.....Michael wasn't even trying to talk anymore. He was just rubbing and admiring her feet. He mixed comforting massage with soft, gentle fondling as his hands explored her silky feet. And Lynn found herself amazed at something. She was actually enjoying his reaction to her feet. The way he looked at them and touched them pleased her no end. She couldn't believe the effect her feet were having on this younger man (Lynn, approaching fifty, was ten years Michael's senior).....but she found she very much liked it!

Michael now lifted one of her feet off his thigh. He held it about a foot in front of his smiling face and rubbed the heel and ankles firmly. His silly, schoolboy grin made Lynn smile. All the while he rubbed those ankles and that silken heel, his eyes literally adored her nylon-clad foot. Lynn, now becoming conscious of the fact that other employees would be arriving soon, still watched Michael in awe, his single-minded attention to her foot amazing her. Even though the door to her office was still wide open, she couldn't stop watching him attend to her feet. It was only when she heard an elevator bell ring far down the hallway that she realized this couldn't go on this way.

She took her foot from Michael's hand, placing both her feet squarely on the floor. The look of disappointment on Michael's face was like a child whose favorite toy had been broken beyond repair. Lynn wasted no time. She stood up and rushed over to the door and closed it just as she heard footsteps coming closer. She took no chances...she locked the door.

When she turned back to Michael, she saw that he was dejectedly beginning to stand up. She rushed back to her chair and plopped herself down into it, pushing downward lightly on his shoulder as she brushed by him. She again blew some soft curls of hair out of her face and looked at the confused Michael. He was looking back and forth from the locked office door to Lynn.

On about the third time he looked to the door and then back at Lynn, Michael saw her long, silky leg outstretched toward him, toes wiggling.

"The door's locked," she whispered, "no one can come in. Don't stop, Michael. Keep rubbing. You do that so well." Michael looked at her wiggling foot and then sat back on the floor, this time cross-legged, Indian style. He reached for her foot, but immediately saw it whisked away. Before he could react, he realized why the foot had been pulled away, and Lynn's almost-squealing-with-glee voice confirmed it.

"Oh, wait," she said, "that foot feels great now. Do the other one for me, okay, Michael?"

With a soft sigh, Michael's hands captured their prize. With a sigh of her own, Lynn felt Michael's strong hands begin again their soothing ways. And she felt that tingle again...this time between her legs....as she watched his admiring eyes embracing her silky smooth foot. And finally, she looked down to see if.....yes.... there it was......that delicious bulge. Michael was totally into her feet, that was clear, and Lynn found herself getting very much into Michael.

The two of them had pretty much become oblivious to the time. Lynn was sitting back in her chair, eyes shut,smiling contentedly, hands resting in her lap, with one foot on Michael's thigh and the other being firmly kneaded in his soothing grip. In short, she was in la-la land. She forgot she was even at the office.

Michael was in his own la-la land. His hands worked on her foot mostly on autopilot. His brain was, for the most part, a gelatinous glob of entranced mush as his eyes feasted on Lynn's nylon clad foot. He was holding that foot a mere six inches from his lips, which his tongue had to moisten frequently. He massaged her foot slowly, alternating from gentle to more forceful attention. As he did so, he watched every movement of her foot, either that caused by his working fingers or her own movements - the curling and spreading of her toes, which in turn caused her soles to wrinkle and then smooth out again. These pictures became etched in his brain.

He was most fascinated by the movements of those adorable toes. He even got so that he knew if he rubbed a certain spot her toes would curl or spread apart, or she'd sigh. He loved watching her toes wiggle and stretch....and Lynn's sighs were music to his ears.

Eventually, his fingers concentrated on those animated toes....and when he took them in his hands to pamper them, he unconsciously pulled her foot closer to his tongue-moistened lips. When he did, Lynn could feel his warm breath on her sole and the pads of her toes. It felt good, because even though Michael had been rubbing her feet for a while now, they were still chilly in spots, and the base of her toes was one of those spots.....so his nearly panting breath was delicious as it bathed the toes he was so diligently rubbing.

"At the risk of sounding like a real jerk," Michael sighed, no longer able to keep quiet about what he was feeling, "you really have very attractive feet, Lynn." As soon as he said it, he regretted it, and he blushed a bright crimson.

Lynn opened her eyes, roused from her dream state, and looked down at the embarrassed Michael. She smiled at the sight of the flushed, flustered younger man, his sheepishly smiling face hovering just beyond her wiggling, pampered toes. She wiggled her toes playfully, and his eyes immediately left hers to stare at the nylon- covered movement.

"You don't sound like a jerk, Michael, and I'm flattered you think my feet are attractive." Then, in a moment of whimsy, she curled her toes, accidentally squeezing his thumbs under them, and asked, "What do you think of my toenails? Do you like the color?" Neither of them was sure if it was a serious question or a blatant tease.

Warm air caressed the tops of her toes as Michael's sigh answered for him.

"They're lovely," he whispered, a longing look in his eyes, "I've always liked red on a woman."

"On a woman in general, or on her toes?" she asked, a sly look in her eyes.

Michael blushed again, smiling and looking downward toward the floor, embarrassed again. Lynn waited to see if he would answer.

"Well, in general, too.....but red nail polish in particular I find attractive."

"Fingers or toes?" she asked, still smiling.

"Both," he replied, smiling himself now, and seeming a little more at ease.

"Well, Michael, I have to tell you, right now you're redder than my toes are," this time she did tease.

"Sorry," he said, "guess I am a little embarrassed."

"Don't be," Lynn said, trying to reassure him, "like I said, I'm flattered. It's nice to know all that hard work keeping my feet soft and painting my nails is actually being appreciated."

"Well, it is," he sighed again, his eyes darted all around the foot he held dearly in his hands, "your feet are very, very pretty." When he said it, he blushed again...but not quite as much.

"Well, thank you, Michael. I really am glad you like them. And, may I just say that you give a wonderful foot rub. I'd be happy to let you rub my feet all day. It's too bad you have to work today, or I'd let you sit there rubbing all day!" She smiled, and chuckled just a bit.

"And I'd be happy to," he said, this time not blushing at all, "I love making a woman feel comfortable."

"Well, that you've certainly done. Today started out so horrendously that I thought this was going to be a truly terrible day. But you seem to have turned that around for me. And for that I can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure, Lynn. Um....it sounds like you want me to stop rubbing your feet. Am I reading you right?"

"Well, like I said, if it were up to me you could sit there rubbing all day, but we both have to get to work. I have meetings and I'm sure you do, too."

"Yeah, and some pretty crappy ones, too," he admitted. His mind broke away from the feel of the sheer nylon and the softness of the feet beneath. More comfortable now, he held both of Lynn's feet up by the heels and boldly admired them. Holding them still about six inches from his face, he let his eyes take in every inch of both her feet - tops, bottoms, sides, toes...even craning his neck to the left and right to check out her ankles and heels. Lynn marveled at how this previously shy man suddenly felt secure enough to openly ogle her feet. She watched as his eyes moved from toe to toe, along her insteps, around the sides of her feet, along the soles...and all the while he smiled in open appreciation of her feet. And, as an added bonus, he was so close to her feet that his breath warmly caressed every inch of both her feet as he admired them. The warmth and tingling she felt was definitely not just down there at her feet.

Mike eventually realized he might be making a fool of himself, staring at Lynn's feet a touch too long. He blushed, just a tiny bit, smiled, and lowered them. But he didn't want to put her soft, lovely, and now warm, feet on the floor. He laid them on his still crossed legs, and his hands gently stroked the backs of her calves.

"If you tell me where your spare shoes are, I'll put them on for you," he said.

"Oh, that's okay, Michael....I can do that. You've done enough already. Thank you...it was wonderful...really...a delicious surprise."

"I don't mind, Lynn. I've pampered your feet this long, I don't mind doing one more thing for them."

"Michael, I appreciate it, really, I do...but you've done enough. Do you realize you've been rubbing my feet for over a half hour now?"

"A half hour? Wow...it only felt like a few minutes. It really is a joy to rub such soft, pretty feet."

"Well, then, you've done enough. Consider yourself my hero....my knight in shining armor."

"All right then, Milady, would you mind granting your knight a request....a reward for services rendered?"

Lynn found the question completely enjoyable and laughed heartily. When she stopped, she looked down at her knight and asked, "And what would my champion accept as his reward?"

"Well," Michael smiled, "how about what we were just talking about? How about you let me put your spare shoes on your feet for you. After all my rubbing, I'd feel neglectful if I let you put your own shoes on. I feel like I should do that for you...under the circumstances."

Again Lynn laughed. But, looking down at Michael and seeing how earnest he was, she relented.