“Scarlett, your client is here.”

I rose from the couch in the dressing room and glanced in the mirror on my way out the door. I didn’t have any idea what this client was into, so I didn’t know if I was dressed suitably for him in a curve-hugging pencil skirt and blouse. If he wasn’t into the naughty headmistress look, I could always run back and change into something from my bag. I just hoped he wasn’t looking for a nun, because I had accidentally spilled hot wax all over my nun habit earlier in the shift.

I was so distracted with reassuring myself how the odds of two Catholic fetishes in one shift were low, that I was in front of my client before I looked up to greet him… and realized he hadn’t come alone.

The man I presumed to be “Ryan” stood to introduce himself, but the alluring blonde woman he was clearly there with remained seated in one of the lobby chairs. Her eyes swept up my outfit in appraisal.

I was slightly confused, but seeing couples wasn’t uncommon, so I tried to cover my hesitation by introducing myself to Ryan. Then I extended my hand to his companion.

“I didn’t realize you had booked a couple session, but working with couples is my favorite! Would you both like to join me in the interview room to discuss the session?”

The woman grinned, “Oh no, darlin’, he’s all yours. My husband wants something so perverse that I’m offended by the very suggestion. He has my blessing to see a professional rather than expect me to do that.”

Her Southern twang was so adorable that I was disappointed she wouldn’t be joining us.

She pulled her car key from her purse and shooed us the direction of the interview room.

“Alright, mister. Out with it. What deviant act was too much for your lovely wife?”

He chuckled, and as he leaned forward in his chair to answer me, I locked a smile in place so that whatever came out of his mouth, I wouldn’t react in a way that offended him.

“I have a fetish for worshipping natural feet. No pedicures. No toenail polish. Just plain old feet the way God made them. The woman I spoke to on the phone said you would be able to accommodate that?”

I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“You came to the right girl. That’s it, though?”

“That’s it. Leslie just isn’t willing to forgo her regular pedicures for me, and she wouldn’t be caught dead with unpainted toenails. We’ve tried to compromise, but she found this place and said I should give it a shot instead of pestering her about it.”

I would never know what it really felt like to fuck a woman, but as I experienced the tight, wet heat of his mouth on my toes, I groaned with delight imagining I was hammering into his wife.

“Let’s do it.”

I usually enjoy a good foot session. Besides the obvious pleasure to be had from a relaxing foot massage, I got off on the power of having a man at my feet. It was different from the thrill of controlling or punishing someone, but equally powerful.

I sunk into the throne and closed my eyes to better enjoy the sensation of Ryan’s skilled thumbs pressing a delicious line up the arch of my foot. I couldn’t help sighing with contentment as he worked his way up to my ankles, kneading the sensitive and usually neglected tendons there.

I generally didn’t get turned-on during a foot session, but I found my mind wandering back to his wife and was suddenly deeply aroused. I knew from the look in her eyes that she was no prude, and I admired a woman who was confident enough to drive her husband to a dungeon rather than indulge him. I let my imagination drift to picture what it would be like to strip her naked and bend her over the desk in the lobby. I would give her a spanking and delight in listening to her protest like a proper Southern belle, but I knew that when I spread her plump thighs and slid my hand between them, the slick heat I found there would betray just how much she loved being treated like a naughty girl. I would make her beg me to fuck her hard, the way she deserved.

As I imagined pressing the head of my strap-on against her entrance, it was as though Ryan knew exactly what I was thinking because that was the very moment he wrapped his lips around my big toe and pressed it into his mouth. I would never know what it really felt like to fuck a woman, but as I experienced the tight, wet heat of his mouth on that sensitive body part, I groaned with delight imagining I was hammering into his wife. I began to thrust in and out, and Ryan’s moan matched my own. Part of me wanted to narrate to him what I was picturing, but since we hadn’t discussed fantasies of his wife beforehand, I kept it as my wicked secret for the rest of the session. He must have just thought I was really into having my feet worshipped.

“Excuse me, your wife is here,” came the voice of the Desk Mistress over the intercom at the end of our session.

Words that would strike terror into the hearts of most of my clients were simply an indicator to Ryan that his ride was back to pick him up. Their situation was refreshingly unique. While some of my clients were deeply ashamed of their fetishes, and many of them were deceiving their partners, Ryan and Leslie had simply reached an understanding they could both live with, and she was fully supportive of him coming to see me for sessions from that day on.

As we made our way back to the lobby, I didn’t try to hide the interest in my eyes as I smiled at Leslie. She returned it with a smirk, as though she knew what had been going through my head while I was with her husband.

“We’re stopping at the gourmet burger place down the street for dinner,” she drawled. “Would you care to join us?”

Ryan’s raised eyebrows made me think she may have been deviating from the plan, but I was on board to see whether the naughty debutante of my fantasies could hold a candle to this firecracker before me.

“I’ll be off in half an hour. I’ll meet you there.”

Photo: Shutterstock.com/Sander Nugis