I am a thirty-four-year-old bachelor with a good paying job. One night, last summer, I went to a bar after work to beat the heat and have a few beers. I was about halfway through my first Heineken when a young lady sat down next to me and started to complain about how tired her feet were after a long day at work. Trudy, as it turned out, was a twenty-two-year-old nursing student working in a local hospital during the summer. She is a five-feet-one-inch blonde with long, silky legs and full, well-rounded breasts.

We talked for about half an hour with most of the conversation centering around her hot, sore feet. I finally worked up the courage to invite her up to my apartment for a drink. Trudy accepted on the condition that a foot massage be included in the invitation. Needless to say, I was more than willing to oblige... Read More