Susie and I were out to lunch when she asked me, “Do you think Michael is your soul mate?”

I nodded, flexing my toes in my patent leather sandals and admiring the shimmery purple polish on my toenails.

“Definitely,” I said, my mind flashing back to the previous night. What a night it had been, filled with firsts and foreplay, feet and fucking. I told Susie all about it, describing every detail.

The evening before, Michael cradled my right foot as he worked. Glistening purple polish travelled from a delicate brush along the length of my pinkie toenail. I practically held my breath. Michael was completely captivated by the job at hand — I mean, at foot. He was even breathing a little quickly, as if he’d been out for a run.

I had known my feet fascinated him, but... Read More