"I don't want to do anything out of the ordinary," she said.
I had to wonder how that would be possible. While I thought it over, I began a slow, gentle foot rub, tracing the lines of her tattoo with my fingertip, then maneuvering one digit smoothly inside the soft leather of her sensible shoe. She moaned with pleasure but removed the foot primly from my reach.
This kid was loaded with mixed messages.
I'd hoofed it over to her place hoping to convince her to accompany me to my cabin in the mountains. "It's nestled by a pretty little lake," I said, "and I'm picturing pretty little you nestled next to me there all weekend."
"A getaway in the woods with my favorite satyr: Sounds perfect," she said.
It did to me, too. This was a match half-made in heaven.
ShoeStories™ by Claudia Lynch