Flash fiction: Her story. His story

Her story

     I squeal and roll my body from side to side.

     “Shhhshh! not too loud,” you say, kneading the various parts of my foot.

     Certain reflexology points hurt like crazy, others are pee-generating ticklish.  Endorphins! That’s what you say you are trying to release. The body’s natural pain reliever.

     “Feel better?” you ask.

     I nod sheepishly.  Now I wished I hadn’t ridicule your foot reflexology idea.

     I look at you. You are studying my feet. “Your feet are really small. What shoe size are you? Kid’s size?”  I throw the pillow at you and dive to rub it against your face. “No! I am a UK size 4-half,” I protest.

     “Yup! Definitely kid’s size,” you wink, flinging the cushion away.

     You start rubbing the sides of my foot, along the Achilles heel and anklebone and down to my toes. Your touch is warm. You squeeze the sides of my big toe, rolling it between your fingers. A fuzzy, woozy, tingling sensation shoots up my leg. All the way up my thighs.

     My pulse races and I breathe sharply. A soft moan escapes my lips.

     You look up, startle.

     Our eyes meet. I lower mine and quickly look to my side. I feel the urge to say what I had been wanting to say to you but I hesitate.  You put my foot down slowly and run your hand across your shaven chin.  You stand up and stretch.  “Want some tea?” you ask, walking briskly to the kitchen before I could answer.   

 

His story  

    John looked longingly at Liny’s feet.  His breath quickened. He needed to touch them, feel the curve of her heel and softness of her arch. “Have you heard of foot reflexology? Perhaps it could release some endorphins to alleviate your pain.”

     Liny raised her eyebrows. “That quack thing?” she laughed. John felt his face turned red. She looked at him and grinned, “I mean, I have never tried it but yeah, go ahead.”

     The red banner announcing today’s marathon lay crumpled on the floor. Beaten like Liny who sprawled on the sofa with legs propped up on John’s lap.  She had grabbed the banner off the railings and wrapped it around her shoulders to run a victory lap.  That was before her legs buckled.

     Liny looked gorgeous even as she lay in this unceremonious position.  Her tangled hair covered with sweat along the braids. Her red lipstick smudged down the sides of her jaw. 

     John held her right foot firmly with both hands and massaged all the way from the toes to the heel.  He stiffened as she squealed and rolled from side to side in ticklish laughter.  Perhaps he was doing this all wrong. It was not meant to be ticklish. But then again, he was new at this foot reflexology thing.

     He studied Liny’s foot. “Your feet are really small. What shoe size are you? Kid’s size?” he remarked, looking up at her.  A pillow hit him, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could recover, he felt her lunged forward to rub it against his face.  “No! I am a UK size 4-half,” she yelled. He pulled the pillow away and winked. “Yup! Definitely kid’s size,” he teased.

     He asked her to calm down. He ran his thumbs down the side of her foot. His instructor had told him in jest during the last class — “If you want to arouse your partner, you should massage her heel along her Achilles tendon and press the hollow under her anklebone.”

     John jumped as Liny moaned. Oh my God, it worked!  He smiled inwardly and moved his hands to her big toe. He felt her quiver as he caressed the pad of her toe between his fingers.

     Suddenly, she jerked her foot. He looked up and saw her staring at him. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. He knew he had crossed the line between workmates.  He let go of her foot and looked away, hoping that she would not catch the yearning in his eyes.

     He stood up and pretended to stretch. “Want some tea?” he asked as he rushed to the kitchen.

 

 

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