Up in the Air Pt. 01

I heard Kim snort to herself, before she said, "Stop pretending like you didn't just stroke my toes, lady."

Chrissy too giggled, and her foot immediately poked at my left elbow. "Maybe she wants to stroke my toes too?" she teased from the seat behind, then I heard her tearing open her own meal, as if her taunting of me was as normal as unfolding her napkin.

I immediately felt my whole body throbbing all over. It was as if my skin was vibrating amongst intense, abject embarrassment, the kind of which happens when you're uncontrollably flustered in surprise. My mind seemed to enter a mode of auto-pilot, and I continued to clumsily butter my bun to the point I accidentally dropped a dollop of butter onto the armrest. Kim must have noticed, as a second later, she'd moved her foot to smear her biggest toe straight through it.

"Were you going to eat that?" I heard her ask, and suddenly, things had become very real. She lifted her foot above my tray, so that it was obscenely hovering over my meal. In that position, it was so obvious that it wasn't possible that I could pretend I hadn't seen it. My hand remained frozen in the air, clutching my half-buttered bun while Kim's foot tauntingly provoked me with the butter. "Answer me," she said, almost in frustration. "Say something, lady, god damnit."

Yet, despite my lips quivering in need, in a desire to say something forceful or witty, anything that would win the exchange in my favour and put this whole awkward situation to bed, not a squeak came from within my mouth. Instead, I was forced to watch in silence, aghast, as Kim had her way, moving her foot so that she smeared the butter all over the bun that was held in my hand. The worst part was, it took her three attempts, adjusting the angle and position of her foot in order to make sure her toe was cleaned of any trace, and throughout, I just watched, paralysed and mesmerised as she freely rubbed her butter-covered toe, with its awful chipped polish, all over the bun in my fingers; the bun I had been fully intent on eating.

"Enjoy your meal," she said with a snigger, and then a second later, almost thankfully, her foot retracted and disappeared out of view.

I was still ridiculously holding the bun when I listened in to the two of them. "What you eating?" Kim asked, seemingly already having lost interest in ruining my own culinary experience.

"I think it's fish," Chrissy answered. "What about you?"

"It's this steak thing. Looks too bloody to be honest." I grimaced at her ignorance of a perfectly-cooked steak. A chuckle then followed. "But definitely better than what she's eating in front."

"She's eating the same as me," Chrissy said aghast, as if mortally offended.

"Nooo, you don't understand," Kim said. "Hers is way worse. I made sure of it. Anyway, you can share some of mine."

I heard the sound of plastic cutlery dropping to the tray behind me. "What do you mean?"

Kim sniggered again. "I rubbed my toes in her butter than put it all over her bread roll."

There was a loud gasp, before Chrissy whispered, "What the hell, Kim? You serious? She just let you do that?"

"Fuck yeah," Kim said with a giggle. "Why not? She acts all mighty but she's weak as hell. It's obvious. Listen." Her voice then became louder as she adjusted herself so she was speaking directly into my ear. "Is my foot bothering you?" Her toes immediately crept through the gap again, before gripping at my elbow. She waited for a second, but when I just swallowed nervously, and didn't respond, she let out a sigh. "This is actually frustrating. Well, if you're not going to say it is, then I'm just going to assume that it doesn't bother you, right? That seems fair?"

I turned, and for the first time, I saw Kim's brown eyes staring me down from behind the gap in the seats, not with anger, or hatred, or mischief, but rather, confusion and genuine intrigue. Up close, her eyeliner was so clumsily applied, a load of it collected in the corners. She was awkwardly leaning over her own meal tray, her foot jammed through the gap, while her head was pushed over the top. It looked bitterly uncomfortable, yet, she seemed committed to annoying me regardless of her own distress. "Well?" she asked, nodding her head and urging me to answer. With the leather hairband wrapped around her head, her hair draping down her face, she looked almost like some kind of native about to spear her prey.

"I...I...I...I" I just couldn't do it. I couldn't voice the absurd reality. The mortifying realisation that Kim was provoking me because she could, and I was too weak and a fraud. I may have had confidence when I thought I was in my own element, but I'd tried to stand my ground amongst economy and had been found wanting.

Kim squinted at me, almost in disappointment. She gestured at me, somewhat encouragingly with her hand. "Come on, say it."

"I...I...I should eat my meal," I said with a gulp, before turning back and picking at the pathetic fish dish.

"My God," Kim said while sitting back in the seat. "This woman sure is wild." She outstretched her foot towards me, then roughly shoved it into my lap, right beneath the pull-out tray. "I'm just going to put this here," she said arrogantly. "Since it doesn't bother you at all apparently. Enjoy your meal."

I didn't say a word in my defence. I just allowed it to happen, and while I ate my meal, grimacing at its cardboard-like taste, Kim's foot remained in my lap the whole time, a forcible intrusion to what should have been an enjoyable break in the dullness of the flight.

I knew it was weird throughout, I mean, having another girl use my lap as a footrest while on a flight? It was extremely bloody weird, but it was kind of for that reason that I didn't want to acknowledge it. It was like I'd adopted some counter-productive stance of ignorance that I was using to just try and get through until the end of the flight. The last thing I wanted was to make a huge scene, as I'd done earlier, and raise the attention of the whole cabin to the fact that the girls behind me had been literally stepping all over me for the past few hours.

I'd placed the bun in the corner of the tray, and while working my way through the rest of the meal, I eyed it with disappointment. It was probably the one inclusion that wasn't dry as hell, and since my dessert was gone, I was just left with the awful main course. As I chewed through the overcooked fish, I lamented the fact that I'd been weak and traded meals with Kim. All it had taken was that initial look of confusion in Marketa's eyes, as Kim had announced my smelling of her feet, and I'd completely capitulated and freely given my gourmet meal up.

"Are you still touching her with your foot?" Chrissy suddenly asked, just as I was finishing up with the last of the fish. I paused as I was about to spoon it between my lips.

"Yeah, it's been in her lap the whole time." Kim spread her toes, and I shivered as I felt them tickle near my belly button.

"Oh my God, what is even happening right now?"

"I don't know, but I'm not moving it. She hasn't said anything anyway."

There was some shuffling behind, then I felt Chrissy's socked foot nuzzle its way beneath my left arm, before her toes dug into the underside of my breast. "Well, I'm going to sit like that too then," she said, before adding in a raised voice, "Since she doesn't mind and all." I blushed as the two of them were so openly talking about me, and things became even more embarrassing when I heard Chrissy whisper through the gap near the window, "You can take my sock off if you want." The cutest giggle followed.

I hesitated while that suggestion stumped me. Of course, I didn't want to take off her sock, why would she even think that? I glanced down at her socked foot in my lap, barely visible beneath my breast and the fold-out tray. What did she expect me to do? Take her sock off for her and pass it back through the seats? Why didn't she just take it off herself. I mean, it was one thing for them both to shove their feet all over me, with a clear motivation to torment me, but it was another entirely to expect me to willingly remove her sock for her.

I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, and in doing so, Chrissy's toes slipped from beneath my breast, her heel remaining on my thigh, while her foot angled outwards. I looked down again and could see the toe ring through the translucent sock, along with that bright red polish. Her feet looked way more pampered and pruned than Kim's unkempt claws, and a thought crossed my mind: if I showed an interest in Chrissy's feet, would that mean that Kim might get jealous and leave me alone?

I obviously had no interest in feet, but if given the choice, I'd choose a well-taken pair like Chrissy's pressing all over me. Still, the thought was ridiculous, and I quickly shook it off, even blushing slightly while considering what I was thinking. However, as if sensing my hesitance, Chrissy lifted her socked foot and abruptly thumped the heel down on the corner of my pull-out tray, rattling the remainder of my meal in the process.

"I bet she wants to take my sock off," I heard her say to her sister. "She's probably been wanting to take it off this whole time."

"I reckon so too," Kim whispered back. "You should have seen her face while she was sniffing my foot. It was like she was drugged up or something. I reckon she actually loves it."

"Yeah, she probably wants to sniff my foot as well." The two of them then burst out laughing. Chrissy must have leant forwards, as I heard her voice closer once again, "Go on," she urged. "Take my sock off for me. You can even rub my foot if you want." She wiggled her toes within the socks. "You can sniff it, if you like?"

I heard Kim scoff while I was truly melting under the anxiety of them speaking about me in such a way. It was bad enough that they were provoking me constantly with their feet, but now they were taking my feebleness as a sign that I liked it?

"She'll probably do that," Kim said, and then I shuddered as she added, "I reckon she's going to eat that bun too, just because my foot touched it."

Chrissy scoffed, then her words became jumbled as she began eating something, "I doubt that very much." Her toes spread almost tauntingly regardless, stretching the see-through fabric between her red toes.

The bun was the only thing left on my tray, and I had no intention of eating it. I picked it up for a closer look at how she'd ruined it for me; the bread smeared messily with butter that had earlier been on Kim's big toe. I lifted it slightly, and stared at it, thinking about whether there was dirt mixed in. She'd been walking around the plane barefoot, and had probably been in the restroom without shoes too. Not to mention, that she'd been wearing flip flops before. From the state of her chipped toenail polish, it almost seemed like she didn't give the cleanliness of her feet a second thought, and yet, she hadn't been at all hesitant when casually rubbing her foot all over my butter and bun. Even as I was staring at the bun, both of their feet flexed and shifted, reminding me of just what a predicament I was in.

"How's your food?" Chrissy suddenly asked.

"I've had better," Kim replied, and I balked at the audacity of her. I bit my lip, fighting an urge to tell her that she wouldn't know a classy meal if it hit her in the face, but the last thing I wanted was to draw their attention while they were seemingly busy with something other than provoking me. "Take it," she said, and I heard her slide the meal over for her sister.

Things became quiet as they settled down and finished their meals, and as they were not paying me any mind, I placed the bun down on the corner of my tray. While awaiting Marketa to return and take away the trash, I kept sneaking glances at Chrissy's socked foot. I didn't want to, as each time, I was reminded of how much an intrusion it was in the area where I was eating. I stared beyond at the screen, trying to distract myself and focus, but I couldn't help niggly little glimpses at her foot as it taunted me. It really was so much prettier than her sister's, and I felt somewhat annoyed that it was Kim's foot that had been forced into my face. I didn't want a foot in my face, but if I'd had the choice...

What the hell are you thinking, Cynthia? I thought to myself, and I swallowed down a loud gulp, truly terrified by where my thoughts were leading. I was honestly thinking that there were positives to having a foot in my face? I cursed myself for not putting Kim's arrogance in check as soon as it had reared its ugly head. I'd allowed her to pretty much get away with murder. It was bad enough that I'd been relegated to economy, but she was making my situation so much worse, and I hadn't offered a peep in retort.

Suddenly, my seat jolted forwards, and the pair of them laughed behind. "Hey lady," I heard Kim say, and I remained looking forward and ignored her, pretending I hadn't heard. Seconds later, her foot lifted and thumped against the side of my face, leaving me no choice other than to turn; an expression of resignation and fear likely evident.

"Cheers." Kim was mocking me with a complimentary glass of wine that should have been mine; why the hell had Marketa given her that too? She winked, before raising the glass and taking a sip. She then offered some to her sister, before saying, "I assume I get comp drinks for the rest of the flight, right?"

"I would guess so," Chrissy said. "I mean, if you're getting her meal, you should get the perks that come with it, right?"

"Seems fair to me," Kim said, and then I felt her toes pinch my arm, causing me to yelp. "What do you say, lady? Is it fair I get comp drinks for the flight?" When I didn't answer immediately, she raised her voice, "Hey, foot sniffer, you hear me?"

"Yes, whatever you want," I said, nervously stewing and squirming in my seat. I looked out towards the aisle, defensively, concerned that everyone else could hear what was happening in my row. That they'd know, simply from seeing the girls' feet trotting all over my personal area, that I was basically being bullied by a pair of girls half my age. That's what it came down to, didn't it? They were tormenting me the way popular girls would pick on the nerd at school. A social outcast truly vulnerable while out of their element. I was of business class stock, lumped into economy with this swarm of trash, and I was like a lamb to the slaughter. I simply didn't know what to do, because my pride felt like the more I opposed them, the more attention I would draw to their behaviour and that in itself would only make me look even worse. I was a proud woman, and having to admit that I needed help because these awful girls were provoking me with their feet was almost as embarrassing as them doing it in the first place.

Therefore, I let out a huff, before acting like Kim was inconveniencing me with her questions. I poked and messed around with the screen in front of me, pretending like I didn't have time for her bother. "Do whatever you want," I said, trying to mask it with an impatient sigh.

"Well, we are," Kim scoffed. "We have been for hours, and you're not even telling us to stop. What's up with that?"

"Yeah, we get extra leg room," Chrissy teased, and she lifted her foot in the air, blocking the screen I was pretending to be distracted with. "We didn't even pay for it, but we'll just use yours, yeah?"

Kim began cackling quite loudly, while trying to supress it beneath her hand. "God, Chris, you're getting worse than me."

Chrissy shook her foot near my face, and I flinched in response. "I felt sorry for her at first, but the more she let you get away with it, the more I just figure: why not? I mean look." Her foot suddenly arched, her toes curling back, and before I could manoeuvre away, she'd pressed the groove between her socked toes right up against my nose, pushing my head back against the headrest. "Sniff it," she said, as my eyes widened in shock from the fresh assault. "Sniff it like you sniffed my sister's. I know you want to."

I squirmed and struggled as she held me in place, yet, even though my arms were completely free and able, I merely curled them up against my breasts, almost as if I was a t-rex with totally useless limbs. Being a proud, independent woman, its quite the thing to have another young girl's foot shoved straight in your face. It's such a humiliating and humbling experience, that it almost immobilises you. All of my years of dealing with clients and my peers had never prepared me for the correct way to respond to such a disparaging insult. What was the appropriate retort to such a forthright display of disdain towards me? I'd always carried myself with an air of superiority, as if people in the service industry simply existed to fulfil my demands, and now, two girls that very much belonged from that class of people, were toying with me in a way that I couldn't deal with. They were operating outside of the rules that I'd lived my life by.

Despite being able to freely lift Chrissy's foot from my face, I simply panicked, taking in a series of rapid breaths. Immediately, my eyes rolled up as I inhaled the light, distinctive scent from between her toes; and it almost seemed like a perfume in comparison to Kim's rancid, smelly feet. There was a flowery fragrance breaking through, as if Chrissy washed her socks with a particular detergent, or perhaps used some kind of scented moisturising oil to soften her skin. Whatever it was, it was so delightful when held up against her sister's toes, that I instinctively began taking short breaths from between her toes; my nostrils tingling from the musky aroma.

"She's sniffing it," Chrissy said in surprise as her toes settled around my nose, scrunching and gripping so I had nowhere to escape. "I can totally feel her breathing between my toes."

"Maybe she really does love it," Kim snorted.

"I think so," Chrissy said, and suddenly I felt her fingers tapping on my shoulder. "Take my sock off," she teased. "I know you want to."

My eyes darted to the left in confusion as I continued to breath the satisfying fragrance from between Chrissy's socked toes. It was so strange, as the more I breathed in that rose-like scent, the more I seemed to partition away from the fact it was coming from a foot. Yet, even though the smell was somewhat enticing, I still held some semblance of awareness and realised I was doing something socially ridiculous. I glanced across the aisle, and the husband was tapping on the screen in front while looking for something to watch. He only had to turn to the left slightly, and he would witness the entire humiliating debacle. Therefore, in desperation, I reached into the netted pocket of the seat in front, and plucked out the flight safety instructions, before lifting it up to the side in order to shield my face from the aisle. It was a pitiful attempt at remaining incognito and protecting my reputation, and I didn't even consider that this made me fully complicit in what was happening to me.

"Oh my God," Kim said with a giggle. "Look at her, hiding so she can keep sniffing your feet. She loves it!

That only caused me to burn in shame even more, and as Chrissy's toes tugged and gripped at my nose, I felt my skin rising in temperature as the absurdity of such happenings overwhelmed me.

"Take it off," Chrissy urged again, her toes spreading. "Take my sock off already."

I could barely comprehend what was happening as my arm seemed to take on a life of its own, pinching the heel of Chrissy's sock between my fingers. I closed my eyes, submitting to the shame as I lightly tugged at the material, trying to ease it from her foot while her toes were still gripped around my nose.

"You never taken a sock off before?" she whispered in my ear; her breath hot as she leant up through the gap by the wall. "Pull at the ankle already."