Under Six Feet

[Steel Etto]

(This is a continuation of a series of stories, previously called, 'The irresistible feet and the moveable objection'. This second bunch of 'episodes' will be for the people who said they were hoping for some stuff with ‘flatter’ (or no) shoes. So here goes. And for those who didn't see the first stuff, here's the plot so far.


Geoff is the only son of a couple who split up when the husband met an attractive ‘new’ woman – who then became his stepmother, and moved in to the family home, along with her equally (although he hates to admit it) alluring daughter, Daniella (Danni). Danni is older than Geoff, and he resents her presence as much as that of the wicked stepmum. He specially hates them being disrespectful to his natural mum's house and possessions, and the fact that they literally walk all over all the things she valued. He hates their feet, and their shoes, and he hates his step mum's destructive heels, in particular. He also goes through a phase of being really upset when they tread on his own things, in the same was as they've done with his mum's – and feels increasingly aggrieved about the way they trample dirt into the house, leaving him to wipe it up. But the hatred goes somewhere strange, when he hits 18. From that point on, he begins to eroticise his predicament. Before he knows what's hit him, he's deliberately putting ‘important’ things precisely where they are likely to step on them, and he starts using his tongue to clean the floors where his stepmum and stepsister have walked - and then even to sneakily lick the soles of their dirty shoes. It isn't long before he's habitually wanking over the situations he's putting himself in, and wanting it to go further. But nothing ever comes of that. And now he's moved out, and so has Danni. Until...

Danni finds herself doing a week's work near to where Geoff now lives, and she decides to ask if she can stay in Geoff's flat, along with her female boss, Stacey. Geoff agrees, but he decides to state some conditions about how she behaves, partly to protect himself from a return to his historical fantasies and fetishes... except, unfortunately, and unknown to Geoff, Danni knows a whole lot more about his previous thoughts and kinks than he'd imagined. She's seen him lick her shoes, and she is pretty sure that a lot of the stuff she trampled on in the old house was put in the way of her feet on purpose. Early in her visit, when he starts laying down the law, she gets cross and lets this out – opening up a whole factory of wormcans. She ends up pretty much challenging him to drag his little secrets and pretences out in the open, and parade them in front of her, AND, as it turns out, in front of her boss. Not only that, but as they interact all more honestly, she begins to understand that he is turned on by the idea of pretty much anything of value, to him, ending up under her ‘evil-stepsister’ feet (including his own body). In short: he is prepared to lie on the floor and let her tread all over him, dependent only on if she's woman enough to take him up on it. He's literally begging to be a doormat – for her, and for her shoes. Something to step all over, to wipe the dirt from her feet onto. If she dares.

She dares, alright. Almost as soon as they have a moment, alone. But then Danni's manager comes back, and gets involved, too. Pretty soon both young women are near enough competing on who can misuse him the most extravagantly And neither of them initially bother much about any of the consequences for him – or about the fact that he has a girlfriend. That is, until she's in the flat too. But, then, they finally have to make considerations. They have to consider the situation, and the compromises. And this soon leads to them taking more chances, as they struggle with any idea of losing face or losing an edge. So,

Danni doesn't want to completely let go of her dominance over her stepbrother, but doesn't want to hand it to Stacey, so opts to use Angie as a way of preventing Stacey being the boss in her private life, as well as at work. She is made more determined in this pursuit because during one drunken evening of play Stacey has not only trampled on Geoff's cock, but also on Danni's tits - without warning.

Stacey, who has really enjoyed playing the mistress to his fool, knows that she should leave go, now his girlfriend is right in the picture. But thinking and acting are different things. She's found herself a little admirer, with no real price to pay for the admiration, and she isn't that ready to let go.

Angie is realizing that something unusual has been going on, and is quickly catching on to exactly what. She's keen to make sure that if she is to leave this guy, she's going to do it on her own terms – but, meantime, she'd going to put a foot or two in the water, because it looks like she might have been missing some fun at his expense. (And she wants to make sure it continues to be at his expense, and not at hers.)

Geoff is caught between the three women. And this ought to be the answer to all his youthful fantasies. But, actually, he is finding it all suddenly completely humiliating, partly because he has no immediate control over what any of them might do or say – so that there is no way he can see of stopping it, without encountering risks that are at least equal to those he is taking by carrying on indulging their whims.)

Part 1

Angelina Stanton was kind of amused, kind of puzzled, and kind of pissed. She was certainly interested – in what was going on with these two young women and, now, with herself, and her supposed boy-friend-come-partner. Up until lately it had been like none of the other three had seemed that bothered about who Angie was, or what she might think. Maybe they'd figured that just because she hadn't been checking up on the three of them, especially when they were together up in this flat, then pretty much any old thing was up for grabs? But, now she'd been invited over, and was actually in the middle of it - making the coffee, even - it had all changed. They seemed edgy. So, why make the invitation – especially when Angie might well have left them to it, one more evening - and then have to start making all these excuses? And did they really think she'd believed this crap about having a clear out? Sure, if you were clearing stuff out then you might throw it on the floor somewhere, ready to bag it up, or box it. But you'd just have one pile. Maybe a big pile, maybe an untidy one – but you wouldn't carefully place your 'rubbish' all round every room in such a way that it ended up in a complete, almost perfect carpet – so that there was no place your guests could walk without treading on your possessions: possessions, that was, which less than a week earlier were being near enough worshipped. This wasn't normal stuff, back then - never mind trash. And yet now here he was, near enough begging a trio of young women, all with outdoor shoes on – two of them, come to that, 'dressed up' in viciously pointy high heels – to go trampling all over his precious LPs, out of their sleeves, where now and again you’d hear one get well and truly crunched underfoot, all as if somehow he suddenly didn't care? Almost like he wanted it. It didn't add up, the way they told it. This was weirdish.

A third generation Italian girl, Angie, brought up in East London before the move north. So, not daft. Just because she didn't dress exactly like the other two, didn't mean she couldn't tell when she was being told porkies. Let them believe she was slow, of course, if they wanted – although Geoff might have to pay a price sometime, for that kind of supposition? Angie could waive some insults – but being thought thick wasn't one of them.

It was getting her thinking, all of this. Like, nothing here could be taken for granted. It was kind of a buzz, working it all out – adreneline, a bit of anger, a bit of something scary, a bit of just: WTF? Although nothing, as far as she could see, that couldn't be coped with. Maybe this wouldn't turn out a long term relationship. She'd never been sure on that one – and maybe five minutes from now something might deal it the death blow, but she wasn't about to give in on any of it, not just yet. Especially not when it was getting so interesting. And anyhow, even if it went too far, Angie wasn't going to go making a tit of herself, giving anything away, on the spot. She'd play it through - sort it in her own time.

This Stacey, the flashy looking sales manageress: she'd gone missing, for now. Like there was something here that didn't sit right with that party, for a kick off. Danni, she looked more in control. But not completely. And he - Geoff - was a mess. Like, really scared acting, at times, since the 'visit' had been proposed and agreed. And all the time, as Angie weighed it all up, reaching round in her feminine instincts for clues, she was still treading all over those records of his. More and more times, over and over. Leaving scratches and scuffs on them - bits of shoe prints even, in places. Sending a few splashes of coffee spilling onto the surfaces, and then pressing the little puddles right into the grooves, spreading crap around, - where bits of liquid had ended up all over her soles. Doing worse damage, even, than that, for all she knew. After all, she couldn't spend every second looking down at the floor, checking on the latest casualties under her neat little black shoes. The flowery-type patterns, from on the bottoms of them, were starting to appear here, there, and everywhere (in a mixture of congealing Nescafe, and dirt off the streets.) It just had to be accepted: what was happening, was happening. And, actually – it was pretty satisfying, knowing it was inevitable, the mounting damage account, and just carrying on adding to it.

Come to that – if he'd done this on purpose, like some gesture, then she'd have been more or less cool with it. Probably would still have really liked it, in fact. It wasn't like Angie was into any of his music, so it was no loss from her point of view – making an unplayable mess of it, where delicately pressed vinyl was always going to come off second best to even the most sensible shoes – never mind ones with gritty, sticky soles, made worse by swirly, floral, sure-grip ridges. They'd appealed to Angie, those pretty 'little' designs, even in the shop. And enjoyable, even more, for knowing he'd always been totally in love with the stuff on the ground, that she was leaving those nice little prints all over. Almost like walking all over an ex-girlfriend! Hell, he was usually so anal about sleeves, and dust. So if he'd have laid even one of those discs at her feet and asked her if she'd have dared, she'd have skipped a beat and then showed him: yes. Just the same as now. But that was the thing, that bugged her: it wouldn't have needed all this pretending, all this dragging other people into it. She'd have smiled, and accepted the offer. What girl wouldn't have?

But then - would she? When she thought back - and definitely not feeling as daft as they apparently all thought her - she started to remember times where other odd things had ended up in the way of her feet, in unusual places, and... and, actually, excepting the occasions when she hadn't seen stuff until too late, she'd generally stepped over it, or around. So had she been missing out on something? Seemed a bit of a weird conclusion to come to - that he had some kind of thing about laying little offerings all round the place: things that Angie was supposed to have unapologetically trampled, but where somehow she'd been failing to oblige. And so, what – was all this, now, some kind of demo? Had she been unknowingly missing out on his weird offers of 'chivalry' (if that was what you would call it) so now he was setting up some kind of mad 'training session'. But how the hell would she have been supposed to have twigged, and how would he even be sure of her twigging now, if she was right in her mad seeming logic? This was stuff you heard of in the Sport, or on the Net - not in real life? It wasn't like he'd ever said, ever given a proper clue? Surely, after all, this kind of thing would need flagging up big time, not left to chance? Like, 'Hey Ange, I've put some stuff on the floor that's really important to me. But not as important as you are, so I'd love it if you’d just walk all over it – completely fuck it up, under your feet, that's fine, if that's what ends up being the result? You in?'

Angie had no doubts. A girl would need to told. Or it wasn't that likely to happen, the way he seemed to have wanted. Being told to mind the fuck where you're walking, whenever you got near to an LP or CD – that hadn't really been doing the same job, as a message? If she was right about the mission, then he'd been kind of setting a girl up to 'fail'.

Then again, though. She'd had her moments, even by accident. Like, getting in his car, that pissing-down-with-rain-day, not noticing his folder of artwork. And, Jeeze, if Angie was honest with herself she’d been well surprised, at the time, about how that could have got there – turning up, on the floor, in between her getting out to go to the bank (in the dark and the wet, running to the cashpoint, coat over her head) and then getting back in. Like, it had never made sense. And all those fucking apologies, when...? He had to have put it there, surely. On purpose, right where she'd be bound put her feet, in filthy wet trainers? If so, she'd sure as hell obliged. Just never noticed, until it was way too late. Soaked, soggy, crumpled bits of coloured paper – that was all they ended up as, the top sheets. Sopping.

But even though the facts seemed to point to some kind of kinkyness, or something – it was still hard to feel dead sure. Angie had to be barking up the wrong'un, didn't she? Really, in truth? After all, if this was for her benefit, then why..? Because, if it would have been difficult for Geoff to front up to Angie about some kind of odd little secret - some kind of, treading-on-his-stuff-fetish – then how would he suddenly be able to front up to it with his step sister and, madder still: her boss! After all, you just wouldn't do that, would you? Have someone's manager round to stay, and then say to her, 'Oh, and by the way: you don't mind me putting all my prized possessions on the floor, where you'll have to walk on them, do you? Only, I like that kind of thing, but I'm not sure if my girlfriend would be up for it, so maybe while you're here..?' And even if somehow you could have the cheek to do it – or even if Danni had been somehow involved, if there was some kind of...? History..? Even so, why take this risk, and invite Angie. Although, to be fair, it was Danni who had made the invite. And Danni who had made the excuse. So what the fuck would Danni's take be, on all this?

So much, to be made clearer. And no time like the present. Picking up the mugs... And, well, would you believe it. When Angie went back into the lounge, with the promised drinks, there was Danni, sat on the couch – with Geoff, down on the floor. And her - with her feet on him! She'd slipped off the heels and was just in stockings – so that was some kind of concession to his dignity, not to mention a reduction in serious discomfort, if not in discomfit. But the bottom line...

Fuck. Was Angie really that much of Sherlock? Or was this fucking dream? Because it all fitted – except with two possibilities. This could still all be for Angie's benefit, sure. Or, it could be mainly for Danni's, or even for any of the others, or more than one of them. But either way, she was as sure as hell now she was in a 'perving for beginners' session. And one way or another, this show was aimed at her.

'All alright? Danni asked. 'Here, come over by me. You can share him, if he budges up a bit, gets down flatter – gives us girls room to sit, if he's on the floor. Don't worry, he won't mind.' Danni was watching Angie, like she was testing the water. So Angie did everything she could not to look shocked, surprised, fazed, angry, or even upset. And she must have carried it off okay, because Danni seemed reassured, and added two more words. 'Never has'.

And still they went round, those questions, growing, even.. What was she thinking? What were any of them thinking, come to that? Were any, or all of them, pulling Angie in to some dark but fascinating place? Or were they showing how much she was supposedly out of the 'know'. Was it a goad, or a serious heads up? And how? Why? Angie couldn't see where this had suddenly come from like, she was in a whole new world with a whole new boyfriend. Like she was suddenly... suddenly..?

* * *

Stacey wasn't keen on the hiding, after she'd had what seemed like a decent attempt at it. Her sulk was subsiding, and matters in the flat weren't getting as out of hand as she'd expected. It felt like if she stayed in the bedroom any longer, Danni would think she'd bottled - and maybe the other two would think it, too. So she came out, just stockings, no shoes anymore – but otherwise, still wearing the rest of the outfit from earlier. She noticed two lots of things, as she made her way back into the lounge. One, was that Danni was already raising the stakes again, with this Angie – which immediately got the worry, and the irritation, right back up again. And the second thing, which was connected, was that it turned out even more fun parading around on the would-be-carpet without her shoes, than with them. Stacey could feel the textures and temperatures of the vinyl surfaces, under her feet. So she might be being a whole lot more gentle on them, without the tiny metal tips to drive home her calling cards – but now she was in some ways a whole lot more aware of her movements on the shiny black walkway', far more connected with exactly what lay beneath her as she shifted her weight from one album to another, making her way across the rooms – which made her decide to stand still for a moment, caressing the grooves with the toes of her right foot, tracing little arcs. And it still felt wonderfully bad, especially with Angie there – because even though Angie had joined right in with the whole circus - as far as Stacey could tell (and as far as it had gone, so far, which was well watered down by comparison to earlier) - it still felt nicely bitchy, deliberately stepping all over her boyfriend's stuff, right in front of her - no apologies, no explanation .

The less pleasing thing for Stacey, though - that stopped her feeling she was still well and truly 'one up', with the records – was that Danni was still pulling extra stunts for Angie, making things awkward again. If this had been taking place at work, behaviour like this would have called for a few words, in the office. It was almost like Danni was deliberately goading her boss, which wasn't like her. She was a character, Danni, but she'd never put out all awkward like this before. What the hell was it all about? Had Stacey somehow done something... But, like, what? This had all been Danni-driven, in truth, right from the start. With help from the willing muppet, of course, who'd allowed it all to happen – and had obviously got a kick out of it. And sure, if some bloke lays in the dirt and invites you to step on him, or even on his favourite little bits and pieces, then... well, Stacey wasn't the kind of girl to turn down that kind of offer. But she'd done nothing, really, except join right in with what was already there, and – heaven forbid? - have quite a laugh with it. After all – fuck's sake – who the fuck is daft enough to beg a girl to balance, full weight, on a violin – whilst wearing spikes? But, Christ! Now!

There was Danni, bold as brass, with her feet all over the guy, right in front of the girlfriend. Which might have been fine, except that there was all the mess on his skin to be thinking about. Was the idea that they went (literally) walking the other silly bitch right through the whole thing, till he was naked on the floor at their feet, all the scratches showing, all the marks, all the carved-out signatures? No serious partnership was going to carry on without a hitch, with that kind of provoking, surely, even if this Angie was calm enough looking now, smiling now, looking like she was lapping it up. Because now was now. But bare skin, and real injuries – that would be something else. Christ, he even had shoe gouges and indents, carved right next to his wedding tackle. It would have been fucking obvious that someone must have near enough stepped right on his dick. Or had stood where their shoe would have been bound to have touched it, at the very least. That wasn't the kind of thing you just passed off, over a cup of coffee.

And one other annoying thing. Danni had got the muppet to move, so she and the Angie bird could share. Which Angie was looking like she might just sign up for! So then what? No room for the boss, at the party?

Shouldn't be happening, this. Not this way.

* * *

Danni was nervous, but trying not to show it. She know she was winding Stacey up, and she knew she was taking a lot of risks, doing it – not just with her boss, but right here in this room, with Geoff and Angie, too. But then, Stacey had been out of order in a lot of this – and seemed to want to carry on like she didn't know, didn't remember. A lot of things, she could do with apologising for - but that business in the bed, most of all. You work for someone, fine. You respect them, fine. But then they don't just step on you - for real, actually trample their way right across your tits – like you didn't exist, like you were rubbish under their 'my-shit-don't-stink' managerial feet. Stacey, of course: she'd done just that. Fuck her. Arrogant bitch. Fuck her. No way should Danni have felt more than just anger, no way should a part of her think about Stacey had done and... feel like she'd had a sneaking yearning for it, an excitement, from someone daring. No way.

And maybe this was somehow what it was all about, taking all these risks, putting so much 'right out there'. Maybe, from the moment Danni had come round asking to stay, there's been a part of her wanting to... to somehow get this all sorted, no matter what. Because Geoff, too, would deserve the pain, and then maybe they'd all know where they were. All those years back, the images of him: sneaking around, down in that hallway, licking Danni's fucking shoes. Placing his stuff all over the floors, even back then, like little booby traps - no reason for putting it where he did other than so's she and her mum would tread on it – and then get blamed, while he obviously got fucking turned on. All in his secretive little way, all behind people's backs. Fuck, Geoff was alright, for a step-brother – but he could have done all the shoe-licking and floor grovelling up front, exactly the same, and Danni would have happily trampled him into the dirt, without it having to be this big pretence. Like with that fucking guitar, and the pair of them. Wouldn't have had to ask her twice. She'd have run a tank over it, never mind just the one wheel of the Audi – but not like that, not little games, where she'd thought she'd pranged the fucking works' car. Alright with the coat, no problem with that – she'd known she was driving over it, anyhow. But coats don't make horrible crunching sounds, scaring the shit out of people! They just get chewed up under a spinning tyre, and that's the end of it.

So now they were going to have a taste of real life, the three of them. And however it ended up, that was fine. At least everyone would know where they were. And then he could spend the rest of his life crawling round under as many women's feet as he wanted, as far as Danni was concerned. If that was his thing... fair enough. Always plenty of dirt to be stepped in, always plenty of work being lined up for some willing prick with a ready-and-waiting tongue...

He looked really stressed, Geoff. Angie had come over close, was standing over him. Stacey was edging her way over, too. Danni put her foot firm on his chest, pushed hard, forcing him further towards the floor, flatter. Angie.. she laughed, looked at him like she thought he was off his head. Which was true enough, in a way. And then she – Angie, herself - pressed her own shoe into his face. Kind of jiggled her foot, forcing his cheek this was and that...

'So where should I put these feet, when I sit?' she said. 'Here?'

She said it like it might be a joke. But also, like it might not. And, as it turned out, it wasn't. For a lot of the next few minutes, she turned out to be deadly serious.

[Eddie08]

Nice start ... but dude, can't you find another name for your femme fatale, Daniella? Mine is almost done with her work and I'd hate to have switch her name at this late stage. LOL.

[abdel100]

Nice start ... but dude, can't you find another name for your femme fatale, Daniella? Mine is almost done with her work and I'd hate to have switch her name at this late stage. LOL.

This was a character in his story from a while back. He refers to her as "Danni" usually anyway.

Steel Etto:

I am so glad you chose to continue this story as it is one of my favorites. I love the way you give the perspective of each participant. It really adds to the conflict between the dominating parties, a dynamic which I happen to love.

[Steel Etto]

Part 2

It felt humiliating. Geoff wouldn't have been able to explain why it was so much worse than before, now Angie was in on the act. But that was the fact of it. Even the bits he ought to have pervertedly enjoyed, and would certainly have like to have imagined himself enjoying if he was in bed alone, looking back on all this: right now, humiliating.

Her shoes - Angie's – were a classic example of the confusion, and the shame. Geoff would normally have liked them on her, and liked the type; they were more or less a brogue, but with a strong feminine look and even a bit of a heel, which was tapered - maybe as much as two and a half inches high, maybe three quarters of an inch diameter at the (not quite circular) bottom – with the classic stitches and holes designs on the front of the uppers. Black, but not shiny. And reasonably dirty. In fact, any other time, he might have considered they were in need of a bit of a going over from a willing tongue - on the sides, not just on the soles (which, in themselves, were quite interesting - with a raised pattern, for grip, a bit like the shape of flowers). Left to his own devices, if he'd found those particular shoes lying around, he'd have definitely thought about giving them a slow, lingering lick or two - and he would usually have started getting hard the minute he'd imagined himself actually getting his face nuzzled up to yet another young woman's trodden-into crap, getting his snout to the trough. In his fantasies, he could hardly have dared to hope that Angie would ever actually press those soles to his face, whilst they were still right underneath her feet – not accidentally, not him trying to slip his fingers under her when she wasn’t looking, not him secretly holding her footwear to his lips whilst she was out shopping, but her doing it knowingly, deliberately – and yet, now she was here, doing just what he might usually have lusted after, Geoff felt ashamed. He found it hard to look at her – especially with the condescending expression she had on her face, as she rubbed those shoes on his. (A look which, in honesty, he'd have been equally obsessed by, in his fantasies. He’d always had his own special relationship with that kind of look. Like, if he’d been a dangerously adventurous little worm, suddenly and unexpectedly spotted by a newly-moved-in, sparkly-eyed, backless-dressed hostess as he slithered his way across her spotless patio at her first dinner partly at her bigger house – and he’d see it in her eyes: exactly what she was going to do next, the reason why she was sliding her toes back firmly into her delicately strapped, high-heeled sandals. It would be all over, the minute she thought no-one else was looking too closely – and they’d never realise a thing. Her eyes, that look, would be telling him all he needed to know: this attractively-attired, image-driven bitch would be about to ‘quietly’ get up from her chair and take a 'nonchalant' little walk on her flagstones, for no actual purpose other than to squash him flat under the sole of one of those fancy-looking shoes of hers, in the process. Her sole aim, to make an unidentifiable mess of her uninvited guest with one sly but determined press from a literally irresistible foot, and with no justification other than… pride! Fuck, that look would be one of 'domination for its own sake', and it would be: hot.) Angie had that exactly that look - total contempt for something unworthy in the way of her feet - to a tee. It should have had Geoff creaming himself. But it didn’t. God knows why not.

Whatever the reason, the humiliation angle was thrashing the potential enjoyment angle, to the point it didn't seem like the enjoyment side could even exist as a possibility. Danni had her feet on his gut, Angie had one foot on his chest and one that was being continually dragged across his face, and Stacey? It looked like she was about to make it six out of six, where he could see her eyeing a position on the couch next to Danni, for perching up on the arm. That would have meant Stacey more or less being forced to use the tops of his thighs for balance, as a way of keeping her from dangling her own legs in mid air. His thighs, that was, provided she carefully kept clear of his cock! Which...

She didn't. Not for long. Within just a few seconds Geoff was starting to feel even more seriously humiliated by the situation. He had Stacey up on that chair arm, steadying herself with her stockinged feet firmly planted in his groin area - one of them, pressing right down onto his... embarrassed member!... and she wasn't even keeping specially still. Some might have described this as footsie, or even cocksie... others would have argued that to all intents and purposes she was working her way towards giving him a full-on ‘foot-job', on the quiet. Which meant he would look a twat, either way it went – whether he got hard, or whether he didn't. She was a class act. The blood should have been bouncing off the walls! But even if it did, and if she gave him a raging and obvious stiffy… No win.

Geoff couldn't tell if Angie could see exactly what was happening, down the bottom end. In fact, with her continually treading on his face... he couldn't see much of anything at all, beyond her shoe, most of the time. But he could feel it all, plenty. And if only this could be a dream, it would be the best he could possibly be having... Stacey was fit, Danni was Danni, and Angie was..? another damned self-confident-acting cow, it was turning out. And he’d never really thought so much before, about how stunning she was, what a great body…

This really should not have been so hard, so degrading. But, that's life. If he could just have had a chance to steady himself…? If he could have maybe had a chance to talk to each of them, one on one, to be reassured that it wouldn’t all go right off the map? If he could have been more certain they wouldn’t just walk out from here, all three of them, once they’d finished this game, with the contempt echoing all round the walls, for real.

There was too much to worry over. Like, what if Angie was to start asking questions. What if she actually decided she wanted to know how his records had really ended up as a catwalk, or why he was lying on the floor letting this happen, or… what if she opened his shirt, and found those D & S heel marks and scrapes all over his body. How could he possibly explain? And how could he be sure, the way Danni and Stacey were acting, that they wouldn’t lead Angie right up the path, more or less force those exact questions?

Geoff had been in dark places like this before. Similar, anyway, if not quite so bad – so, in a way, he should have been able to make sense of his fears. But he couldn’t. And, in truth, it wasn't always quite the same - but it usually had the same general taste, the same adreneline-pumping effect. Too many times, his stranger desires had got better of him, if he was brutally honest. They'd led him to do all sorts, like 'accidentally dropping' stuff (or sliding his fingers out) where he knew some ‘preoccupied bitch’ was about to walk, or stand – and he'd actually placed decent gear on bits of road, or grass, in the way of where overly-moneyed-stay-at-home housewives, out with their credit cards and their flashy cars, would more than likely run their shiny-waxed-wheels right over his little sacrifices, without a second thought (where there are some things that aren't going to work, underfoot, no matter how smart the set-up. He'd found women were definitely more worried about what they stepped on, compared to what they would unceremoniously flatten with a bike, or an uncompromising SUV – so, sometimes, the best he might get to take back to his bed would be the aftermath of an encounter with a ‘carelessly driven’ 4 x 4, and on those occasions the rest of his fun would have to come from the old faithful imagination bank.) Thing was, it could all so easily go tits- up, any kind of set-up.

Like, he’d been in a multi-storey once, walking to his own car, with a(nother) brand new leather coat (which went kind of the same way as the recent one, but not with Danni in any way involved) slung over his shoulder, warmish day, and then he'd noticed that a youngish girl who was walking ahead of him - dark hair, bob; knee-high boots; bag over her shoulder - had moved over to the left, flicked off her car alarm, was heading for the driver’s door of a black Golf. The front of her car was facing the car park wall, so she’d have to back out. Geoff had one of those mad rushes, that he'd always been sure would one day be his undoing. He couldn't have got anything in the way of her feet - and even if he could have she'd most likely have seen it, kicked it aside (or picked it up, where it would be lost forever, another hard lesson) – but, next best thing? As he walked behind her car, where she’d already sat herself inside (and appeared to be looking forward) he let that fucking cool as cool coat slip from his fingers, so that it dropped to the ground – about three feet behind her rear bumper, where at least one of her crap-encrusted wheels would more than likely to...

All well, so far - other than the immediate doubts, immediate fears over possible complete loss or massive damage. But, those aside: as long as she hadn’t actually seen him make the drop, he knew that no way would she be able see his humble offering, once it had hit the floor… too close behind her back window, and the window itself, too high. Chances were she’d back out just far enough to turn, and then pull forward and round, to drive off – and she’d probably never even know what she might have driven over as she went, or if she’d just completely crushed something ridiculously valuable between those mudfucked radials and the shitty concrete, in passing. So, as long as no-one else had seen…?

Checking round. If there were any other interested eyes? Geoff might still have had to suddenly go back, like, silly me, just so clumsy – and be forced to pick it up. But, no sign of anyone, didn’t look a problem. Looked all set. Except. She just sat there, ages. Fiddling with her mirror, doing make-up, it looked like. It was hard for Geoff to hang around, and not look suspicious, especially with his car being on another level. There was no reason for him to be there, stood in the shadows, watching. And other cars could come, other people: that same old risk of a spotting, or of a ‘rescue'... or of his property being trashed by some fat git in a van, or... And then...

The inevitable. But at least it's another woman, who comes out from the stairs, walks right towards the part of the car park where the coat is. Her Renault estate turns out to be almost opposite the girl in the Golf. Woman two, who’s maybe late thirties, jeans and trainers, shopping trolley, opens her boot, starts unloading, and then definitely sees it. The coat. Shit, shit, shit. Not meant to happen. She’s kind of standing, half looking at it, half unloading, and then spotting Geoff. For a moment, it looks like that's spurred her into thinking she ought to do something more public spirited than leave matters to fate, and it seems like maybe she’s about to go and unknowingly be an interfering cow, and pick up the leather, rather than stay in the running for actually being the first of the two women to unapologetically flatten the expensive black heap whilst driving out, when…

Right at that moment, the girl in the Golf finally gets one of those boots onto the throttle, and fires up the engine. She starts back. So now the second woman just watches again, suddenly even more unsure of what to do, so returning to doing nothing but looking on, fascinated. The Golf, still edging back, dead slow, like the boots are more on the brakes than the gas. But the back wheels finally reach the risk zone – except that they both miss, even though one of them only misses by maybe an inch or two. And again, the second woman shoots Geoff another quizzical glance – where he's trying to pretend he’s not really noticing, like he’s there waiting for someone, or something, and isn't that fussed by what she can see. But he doesn’t know what to do either, and he’s shitting himself, because he’s realising there’s stuff in the pockets that will identify him, and it’s way too late now to admit that this brand new coat is his, what with it being drawn more and more undeniably to his attention – because he couldn’t have taken all this time to notice he’d dropped it, and even if he had then once it had been pointed out, surely he’d have dashed over and picked it up, where now it’s literally right underneath the slowly manoevring car? So all he can do is worry: what if they investigate? Find the stuff in those pockets, now, realise it’s mine, and wonder, WTF? What if they ask the questions, call the Law..?

The Golf then starts to turn, and that completely raises the stakes. Geoff can’t see for sure if it will score a hit, now, but it’s hard to imagine it can still manage not to - and woman two must know for sure, must have a grandstand view. And she watches. The car edges out a bit further, and boot-girl must have her left tyre almost on Geoff’s leather, unless she’s missed again, unbelievably, even with the effect of re-aligning..? But she sure as hell hasn't missed this time, it turns out – and that's when she stops dead, goes for completely opposite lock and there's this kind of dragging, crunching sound, as she moves her hands on the steering. Then the Golf pulls forward a yard or two… which is when woman two finally steps in, almost like she's kind of enjoyed the show. She motions to the driver. Boot-girl winds down her window.

‘Excuse me?’ says woman two, pointing at a sorry looking sight, on the ground, which is what's now left from Geoff’s rush-of-blood-experiment. ‘I think you just ran over something… somebody’s…? It’s not yours, is it?’ (And looking for all the world like she's hoping it might be, like she wants to see the reaction.)

Boot-girl has to pull forward again, looking a bit flustered, before she can finally see. And when she does, she must be puzzled, because she would have know there was nothing that obvious behind her when she walked up to the car, and got in, and there had only been Geoff around, so..?

‘No?’ she says. ‘It's definitely not mine. But I don’t think could actually have gone over it, could I..? I mean, I looked…?’ she carries on, a bit defensive, like she might be about to face an angry man if she admits the unmistakeable fact – so she chooses denial, despite that they can’t really be anybody else’s but hers, the dirty tyre-marks, all across the leather, clear as anything. Then, for half a second, they both look at Geoff, like he can help, like he can be the one to say its all okay, to forgive this young, appealing-eyed stunner her mistake? And he felt… like he wanted the ground to open up. What if they asked him the obvious seeming questions, what if they looked in those pockets, found his (now, it turned out, partially crunched, inside a ripped lining) mobile phone. Boot-girl had truly fucked everything it was possible to fuck: phone LCD busted, pens crunched, a coat button turned almost to powder, and then those shitty radial patterns all over the soft blackness – which was what Geoff found, when he finally got the things back, and looked properly. Actually, no way could they have identified him, after what she’d just done – but Geoff didn’t know that, right then.

He had no answers, terrified. Just walked up, like he was a suited-up cleaner or something, picked up the coat, said nothing, carried on walking into the stairwell – and then starting running, up to his own car. Terrified, shaking – knowing their puzzled and possibly accusing eyes were following, and hoping it was only the eyes. But he was high, too, so high. He could see, already, that she’d done a number on the leather. £200, and with all those tread-marks of hers on it now, and the rips, where she'd made that turn. And that was before he knew about the phone…

Good night in bed, in the end. But that had been so close, he’d felt so at risk.

That was how he felt now. Totally exposed. Wishing he’d never ever discovered these weird desires. No answers. Dangerous fetish, no question. You could end up in the papers, or even getting in real trouble. You could…

‘You know, I could get used to this,’ he heard Angie say - interrupting his complex mosaic of negative, self-doubting and panicked thoughts. She had that voice, like she was almost laughing as she spoke. And she moved her foot a little, as she spoke, pressing her shoe to his lips, and it felt like it was deliberate on her part, choosing that exact place, like she was almost daring him to…. make the move, make the kiss. A French kiss, even? – which would mean some input from the tongue: a usually sought-after chance to lap shit from her dirty sole? Fuck, could she have said anything more provocative, more perfect? Like she was reading his doubts, countering them. And that half-laugh of hers, as she’d said it, made him feel like he could actually try it, actually take the chance, like it wasn’t going to get him put in prison, or into a mental home. He swallowed one last doubt, and then…pursed his lips. And, suddenly, the blood finally kicked in. That little giggly sound of Angie’s, and an almost simultaneous prodding reminder from Stacey’s stockinged toes into one of his sacks, had determinedly unlocked the flow. Oh, shit! He knew, right now, like in that car park, like when he finally darted in between those two astonished women and claimed back his coat: he was about to make a choice, and go through with it. And no point pretending things would ever be the same, afterwards, or that he might not get caught out really badly. No way to even guess where it would end up. Only the knowledge that he was going to go for it. Again. Totally in the open. Oh, shit! Oh shit!

[Steel Etto]

Thanks so much for the comments - and sorry about Danni. Not bad, though - there being two of them!

S

[Steel Etto]

Part 3

Angie had hit the jackpot, guess wise. She had no doubts, any more. She’d been right, all along; and had gone and got herself involved with a right little pervy sod. She was no expert in this kind of thing, but she knew that there were types of fetish that had got talked about in the girls’s cloakrooms, and she’d sometimes read of in books, and magazines. She’d heard of people being into shoes, and she’d once talked to a drunken girl friend who’d admitted liking to sniff the insides of them. She’d heard of people needing to be dominated - and of the occasional guy wanting some woman to do victory poses on him (placing her foot, firm, on his gut or his face). She’d even heard of complete masochists who’d actually paid whores, in stilettos, to literally walk on their naked bodies. And here was at least one of those types, right on the floor, right at her feet. She knew for sure, the minute she’d made that last move, and he’d…. he’d actually kissed her shoe. She was sure of it. And the redness of his face, as he’d made his gesture, wasn’t just from her having been treading on it. It looked amazing: the black and brown of her slightly muddied shoe, and the puceness of his skin, where she was able to see bits of it, underneath that suddenly wonderfully domineering-looking Brogue. Christ, she’d never had thought anything like this could have been… such a total buzz. And to think, the only time she’d ever tried to rest her feet on him before… he’d gone mental. But now even that, too, was making sense. Of course he’d have been defensive. Of course he hadn’t wanted her going there. Because if she had, she’d have known then what she knew now. He was gagging for it. Kinked out of all shape. Poor fucker. There’d be no going back. You don’t let a girl know she can walk on you, and expect to get away without a thousand bootprints a day, the rest of your life. Like that joke: men are like carpets. Lay one properly at the start, then walk on it for the rest of its life.

‘Wow,’ that’s nice’ she said. Acknowledging the kiss, and maybe even trying to provoke another. Only once before had anyone ever actually kissed her shoe, and that was in a fight, where she and a couple of others… where, in truth, they’d been out of order with the revenge they’d exacted on the poor bitch of a loser. But this… it almost made up for the fact that down the other end of the sofa, Angie was sure that Miss Manageress was getting up to more than just kisses, with her own two feet. Unless Angie was mistaken, blond-haired, tight-skirted, Essexy-girl Stacey was royally cock-teasing him with those patterned stockings. So she sure as hell was in on his little likings. Which made the kissing all the more satisfying. Angie had to admit, if she was right about what Stacey was doing, then that girl had some front, some self-belief. Playing footsie with some other girl’s bit of cock, more or less right in front of its owner..? He’d be paying a price for that, Geoff. But, for now, Angie was surprising herself. Because although she was partly miffed, she was more pissed off still that she couldn’t see the action properly. Part of her just wanted to watch, fascinated: to be sure. Was he really down on that carpet, letting that flashy nearly-tart rub her feet all over his balls, like he was some little dog?

And maybe. Just maybe, that kiss had saved him. If he thought he was in for any chance of straight sex, tonight, or any time this week, then he’d be out of luck. The rules of everything had changed, in this past half-hour. But there was enough in this, that Angie still might not actually give him the push. Like, the thrill of that tongue, on that sole. Even if it had been on other girl’s shoes, too, pretty much for sure? Well, that could be put right, in time, couldn’t it? Like, women are forever forgiving straying cocks. Especially if you admitted you didn’t have so much of a partner, anymore, but more of a… fucking toy, for want of a better way of describing this. And, meantime, Angie could get some sort of strange kick from seeing how he’d deal with the attention he was getting under that bitch’s long, slutty legs, right now, just for.. just for devilment, just for like, ‘oh yeah, deny you were enjoying that will you!’ And just for…. Because there was a part of Angie that actually admired the Stacey’s of this world, and this Stacey in particular. Self-obsessed, overly-pleased-with-themselves, aware of being fancied, diet-crazy, clothes-mad, tarty-shoed…

Women. That’s what those types were. They were women. Stacey was 2000% feminine, through and through. And though Angie was no self-doubter, she could see why Geoff would be lying there, taking it, from those particular stockinged feet. And maybe, right now, a head to head confrontation wouldn’t be the way. Angie could even lose - and could lose control of the options, in the process. And for that reason especially, along with quite a few others, she kept on wishing she could see it, know it for sure – instead of relying on what she could make out of Geoff’s expressions, under her own shoes. She thought she could actually have stood the pain, the reality, even if blondie took it right do the death, actually kept going to the point of him oozing his submission out into his pants, right under those criss-cross patterned, bright-red, painted-up, sperm-jerking toes of hers. Just for the crack. Just for the certainty. This time round. A once only offer, while she decided on where this would all go, for Angie and Geoff, in the end.

Danni, mind. Danni was dead quiet. And yet… Fuck it. Forget the analysis. Just take the buzz, girl. Whatever the realities, night like this didn’t happen that often.

* * *
Danni was taken aback, and reeling again, for all she knew about her boss. This was one of those few times in her life, she kept finding herself wishing her mum would walk in, give her some help. Because if there was one person Danni was sure could trump Stacey, here, it would be Miranda. If there was on pair of feet in the world Geoff might swap Stacey’s for, it would be his stepmother’s. But…

Danni had wanted rid of her problem. And it looked like she’d achieved that, all right. Stacey was on top form, and even Angie was making good on it, no hanging around. Looked like Danni’s place in his world was slipping out of sight, looked like... she could have got up, walked off to bed, the way she felt. But… she didn’t.

During those few minutes, and later that night, a new wave of truth was hitting home. For all that Danni had ever told herself, even these past few days, she still hadn’t actually got to the bottom of it all, stripped it right down. It was hard.

Sure, when they’d lived in the old house, she’d had a few accidents with Geoff’s stuff. So she hadn’t always remembered to take her shoes off, at the door. So she’d walked crap into the house, and had let him clear it up - and had let him do it whichever way took his fancy. What young girl wouldn’t have, even if it was just from not knowing any better? So, alright, she’d gone into his room that time, uninvited, and not noticed his precious project in the way of her feet, trampled all over it. Okay, so it had ended up just a mass of crumpled bits of paper, imprinted in the patterns of the bottom of her shoes. But she hadn’t meant it, any of it, then. She hadn’t done it on purpose. It was just her. She’d just never noticed that much, what she was walking on. Not before Geoff started pointing it out. Not before he started all that stuff - licking her shoes, putting his things deliberately in her way.

But then it had felt like – like he was finally welcoming her. Like he was finally saying he wanted her in the house. Wanted her so much, in fact, that he’d even lay his things on the floor - purposely, by now, and for no apparent reason other than for her to step on them, like they were her personal carpets. Like he was making gestures - from him, to her. But always secret, and always with that odd edge – which was a fucking pain. Because, for all that she’d had her run-ins with him, she’d always liked Geoff, if she was honest. She’d always wanted him to like her, too. She’d always remembered (although she’d always claimed she hadn’t) when they used to go to that mad witch’s house, with that incredibly tasteless rug – and her loyalties had been split, between him and Miranda, once he took on that change of tack . It was of the few things she HAD always been aware of walking on: that bear’s skin. Had never felt quite right, doing that. Miranda had no problem with it, and actually seemed to go out of her way to repeatedly pin that wonderful white fur under her thin designer heels - and Stacey would have had no problem with it. But Danni…? In a way, she’d only made the choices she did, and had pressed the odd shoe-print into it, because she couldn’t be sure that Geoff, too, wouldn’t have secretly have wanted her to. And that was the problem, with all this pretending, all this guessing.

All this time, if Danni really forced herself to be truthful, she’d liked to think that she’d been up on a pedestal. His pedestal, that she only really shared, and only in passing, with her mother. And although she’d never been completely sure about her right to be there, or about whether letting her younger brother (yes, brother) eat dirt from her shoes was such a good idea, the one thing she’d thought was missing, more than anything, was for him to say: Danni, there’s nothing I won’t do for you. I’ll lay my world at your feet, and I’ll kiss them, worship them. I’ll kiss the ground you’ve walked on…. And, despite some reservations, she’d have jumped at the adoration. She’d have let it happen.

That first evening, when he’d finally, clumsily, asked her to tread on him - actually offered his own flesh as Danni's special carpet, rather than offeriing his project work, his photos - and when he’d openly encouraged her to crush his T-shirt into the tea-stained floor, under her boot - she’d had it all. And it should have ended there. She should have wrapped it up, for another day. HERS! But that wasn’t what she’d done. And that was because… because here was something else she couldn’t ever be honest about.

In the end, she knew what she’d done. She’d made a present of him. She’d known his weaknesses but, once she’d completely exposed them, she’d immediately gifted them to someone else. A present to…

Fucking Stacey. And there was no way ‘the boss’would have turned down the invitation to trample all over someone, just to show that she could - especially if it was a subordinate’s brother, down at her feet. Danni had known that, all along. Wouldn’t have missed another chance to get ‘one up’ on her employee, given an opening. No prisoners, with that one. Even if you were lying injured in the road, as obvious as anything, on a clear sunny day… well, then you wouldn’t want it to be Stacey, coming along in the works’ pool car. Danni knew that, as a fact. She could still picture it: the increasing realization, as it they’d got closer and closer – no steering, no braking. She remembered the horrible sound of it – when they finally ran out of road, in between: THUMP-thump, from under the wheels of that same Audi (and with the first impact so much louder, and feeling like it was from somewhere just beneath Danni’s shoes, where it was her side of the car that went over whatever it was – eyes, tight shut, at the end.) Cheap price mobile vet, service with an evil little smile. And worst of all, Danni hated that she couldn’t stop the part of her, the inside Danni, that was wishing it was herself, laying at her boss’s mercy. Then, in her fantasy - and now, for real. She could be the one having her ‘sex’ deliberately run over - with Stacey’s, being the killer feet, choosing the spot, and the speed. Hoping she’d keep pressing on the accelerator, rather than the brake..

No point Danni really trying to go on saying she didn’t understand about Geoff. She understood, all right. What he’d needed was Miranda, or… or Stacey. Or even this Angie, by the look of it. But not Danni. Danni hadn’t even liked knowing she’d reversed that same car over his guitar, bringing it all back to her, and certainly hadn’t enjoyed unknowingly running the wheel over his fingers. Fucking Stacy again, of course – being chauffered, in her evil little world. Actually allowing herself to be driven over another person’s flesh, by some ‘lacky’…. But for all that Danni might want to blame everyone else…

It was just the way it was. And somehow, she might even be able to make it happen, more like she really wanted it to. If she really thought she could face handing that over to her boss… because she knew Stacey would take it. And never give it back.

His cock looked like it was getting harder by the minute. Not surprising… Danni could actually imagine herself getting on her knees, and suddenly, unstoppably, hungrily kissing the shapely, shoeless, Essex-girl feet that were doing the deed… inside her head, it felt like her own brakes could fail, any minute, and she’d be down there…

To distract herself, she dug her own heels deeper into Geoff’s gut. And although in truth, that wasn’t what she wanted most… she knew he’d like it, and she didn’t exactly dislike it, herself. Danni wished, though that she didn’t feel about to burst into tears.

She’d done this. But she had no idea what to do next, to make it more right.

[TF0]

great followup!!!

[stepped on]

wow great story thank you

[kalkar]

Man your story is so good that I couldn't finish it from excitement.... The unknowing or uncaring crush of his valuable souvenirs (I prefer high heels by the way) , and the way you describe the feelings.... It is like I found exactly the same way feeling in my life experiences...


I know I don't make sense I am really speechless, great job...

[Steel Etto]

Part 4

Stacey was pushing the boat out, and she knew it. She knew that this Angie could go psycho any minute, throw the toys clean out of the pram. She couldn't imagine exactly how she'd handle things, herself, if some other chancer came along and started rubbing her stockings all over Stacey's own partner's wedding kit – and maybe she wouldn't be all that different to Angie, in how she'd play it, short term – but she knew it wouldn't be something she'd have let go, forever. And just one stroke too many, or one minute too long, and... she could imagine a total loss of cool, given the wrong swing of mood. And she was impressed with Angie, on that basis. It had been clocked, almost for sure, that Stacey was being deliberately provocative with the boyfriend’s privates – warming his sperm up for action, where they were still being jostled and squashed under her feet - but...

A cool one. Cooler than Danni, right now, who looked like she really was not having a ball, and who kept staring down Stacey's legs, like she was hating what was happening to her brother, on that floor. Not a happy bunny, anymore. Good! Because the other side of Stacey was saying, Fuck these people. Just a few hours ago he was begging me to do this kind of thing to him, and now he's like, don't fucking embarrass me. And her, Danni, the same. And all these sudden little sulks?

The other thing was, too, that Angie would find out soon enough what the other two had been doing. Maybe even tonight, but certainly the next time she opened his shirt. Might just as well carry on, a few more strokes along his piece with those feet, maybe create a nice little wet patch all round his zipper, then walk away, like, There you go, darling. That's what, and who, floats his boat. No point anyone denying it.

But it was Angie, who solved the dilemna. She must have seen, too, what a sour face Danni had on her. Amongst other things. Because,

'You know what? You don't have to drive me,' she suddenly said, amazingly calm. 'I can stay here, share the couch. I know it might be a bit crowded, but..'

Stacey almost laughed. Well, that was that, then. She'd liked to have seen inside fuckbrain's head, when the girlfriend had dropped that one on him. Not as daft as she made out, this girl. And, fuck it, Stacey was suddenly a whole lot more relaxed about all this, and about what might still come out – like, in the end, who gave a fuck? What was the worst Angie could do? Ring up the other partners? Whingeing? Telling them, Your girlfriends trampled the shit out of my boyfriend? Because, how would she explain it? Was she really going to cough up how it had happened, which was that he'd purposely thrown himself at the feet of a couple of drunk young women in serious heels, and – surprise, surprise - got himself ripped to fuck: little stiletto-shaped marks all over him, the fucking obvious consequences. People. Like, with one of those chewed-to-bits, soft-wood floors that had got itself well and truly partied on, where the host had been all “Mr Big, hospitality merchant” until it was too late, and he’d caught on - and suddenly it was a crime that anyone ever wore anything more sexy than slippers? Like, the sorts of shoes that exactly that kind of guy would be wanking over in adverts, and would forever want worn in his bedroom, were suddenly the worst fucking invention in the world when it came to it that a few of the girls on his guest list (who wore them with metal-tipped spikes) had drilled holes into his parquet hallway, before carving out their dance moves all across the boards in his polished-pine lounge, apparently oblivious. Christ's sakes. Well, get carpets then?

'Uh, okay?' Danni said, even before the muppet himself could comment on who was staying in his own house – although, mind you, he did have his own girlfriend treading on his lips at the time, which wouldn't have helped him. 'Look, I'll get you some pillows,' Danni added. 'From the room I'm using. Unless you want to... .

And she got up, almost without warning. So Stacey followed suit. Not that she was going to be volunteering pillows of her own. But, without Danni in between, the cock game wasn't really on. Good a time as any, to knock it on the head. Which she did, as she stepped over it. One 'accidental' little kick, and a drag of the toenails across it, in passing. She followed Danni to the bedrooms, padding across those LPs – with Angie's thank yous, and fuckbrain's stunned silence, echoing behind them.

And there they were, just a minute, later, the two of them. Danni’s clothes and shoes all over the already record-strewn floor. Danni, over by the wall, in the corner, looking back at her boss.
'So?' said Stacey. Quietly, but like Danni would be able tell this was going to be a serious little talk, if it was going to be a talk at all. 'You got issues, or something?' (And she wasn't expecting the replies that were going to be coming, just a few minutes later.)
'No.... well, yes... look, I'm going to need to take out these pillows, and then maybe we can grab five...?'
'Yeah. Or we could grab 5, and then you could take out the pillows. Or,' and Stacey kind of laughed, 'you could fuck the fucking pillows?'.
'Yeah, maybe,' said Danni. 'But then they might come looking, and anyway... I just want …. to shut the door, and be done with it. I...' and she picked up the pillows, carried them past Stacey, who move aside, shrugging. And who waited.

Danni came back,' just a few thank yous and goodnights later... Jeeze, she was winding it up, now, having started the whole thing, in the first place? And then she even shut the door, too.
'Yeah, but hang on,' said Stacey. Can we not go to my room? Like, at least we'd have the fucking pillows?
'Okay,' said Danni.'
They walked through, to Stacey's. And then, finally, the door was shut.
'So?' said Stacey. 'What's the crack?'
'You,' said Danni. It's..... you.'
‘Me?!” And then Stacey couldn’t believe, where it all went next.


* * *

If Geoff had thought, even for one moment, that things were going to be slightly easier, once he was one to one…. then he was wrong. Not only was Angie staying the night, now – but she was staying put, too. He’d have thought she’d have at least moved her feet off of his face, once there was no one else using him as a footstool (or, come to that, for even worse purposes). But, that part of things wasn’t stopping. And that – which really surprised him - was just for starters.
‘Well then?’ she said, quiet, calm - but somehow still scary. ‘More to you than there looks, is there?’
‘No…?’
‘Really? Well, that's interesting. So, you won’t mind me checking, then? Now we’ve got a minute, actually to ourselves, after all this time with you and them...? Cos’ I’m not all that sure anyone’s going to be rushing back, if…?’ Fuck, she was so softly spoken, but so threatening, so… different, than the girl he’d thought he’d known all this time. Slept with, even….
‘We’ll, maybe, no…..but… I mean, they only said….?’ Checking what? ‘I mean, checking, what?’ Still hard to speak - where she was still in that same position, with one shoe pressing heavily on his lips. And it was true. Given the circumstances, Geoff thought it was likely he'd suddenly been left to fend for himself, as far as the others were concerned. Or, not concerned.
‘Oh, let’s see now…? Checking... whatever I feel like checking, I reckon. Don't you? Yeah? So, let’s start down there. In the middle. Undo those trousers, and let’s have a look at that. See, I reckon there's one part of you, for sure, that isn't going to be able to lie to me, about what's going with you, all of a sudden? And don't think I couldn't work out what Twinkletoes-Flashytights was up to, either - that you didn't look like you were exactly complaining about?'
‘I never… I mean, she never…’ but Geoff didn’t even get started on his denial, before she did something he’d never, ever, have credited she was capable of doing. She actually more or less stamped on him, like, hard. Right on his mouth, where he wasn’t even sure he didn’t feel a little drizzle of blood. And she kept her foot there, really pressing it down, twisting it. It fucking hurt. And he’d have maybe squealed out, or… but really he didn’t want the other two coming back in, for any reason at all, with this suddenly so much worse, so much more like the nightmare script he'd initially expected. (Only so different, too.) He heard her laugh, again – to herself, but still clear enough. ‘Well? Come on then? Unless you actually want to make me properly cross? I mean, you imagine you're me, right now..?’

Over the next two minutes, the shame reached its absolute peak, so far. He had a couple of feeble tries, to talk her out of it. What if Stacey did come back, or Danni? What if…? But she seemed to think those kinds of ideas were in some way just horribly amusing, given everything else. And, in the end, he levered his arse off the floor, dropped the trousers, dropped the pants, and….

It was all there. The evidence of little spots of pre-cum, from being messed around under Stacey’s feet. Still three parts stiff, his cock, and reddened, from all that teasing. And the marks and scratches were there too, from the other stuff, that hadn’t been a tease. Pain and pleasure, for real. Danni and Stacey, both, in those fucking mad shoes of theirs… it had seemed so fucking hot, at the time. Seemed so…. Fucking inexplicable, now.

‘Phhhweewwwhooooaaahhh!’ he heard, from up above him, And a quiet little whistle, and intake of breath. ‘And I don’t suppose you’d have had marks like that, if you’d kept anything on, like… like your trousers, or pants?' Silence for a moment, and than. ‘So, then. You’re trying to have me believe you’d give a fuck, if the two of them in that bedroom walked into this room with you naked. Like they haven’t already walked…. Well, I can see exactly where they’ve walked. All over your dick, and back again, by the look of it. Even your fucking sister, was it? Fuck, some family. All we do, up my way, is birthday cards and Christmas.’

This felt like it had to be the end, No way out. What could anyone say, to that..? But he had a go at it. Just to try and stop the embarrassment, to find some better place, wherever that might be. Eventually, he went for it. Some actual words.
'So......?' he said 'Ange...?
'Ange, what?'
'What are you going to...?
'You know what,' said Angie. 'I wasn't sure, but...'' it seemed like she was looking around, thinking, almost like she was in some kind of trance, and then. 'Know what?' she said. 'I've just seen something else.... and... tell me, by the way. Did it hurt?'
Geoff kind of nodded, as much as he was able.
'Yeah, well. Now I know something that's probably going to even hurt more. And I'm not sure I'm not going to enjoy every little minute of it'
'Of.... Ange...? Like almost pleading. What next? What further humiliation? At least it might help to know, to prepare.
'You heard of Rubber Soul?' she said. Kind of playful, her voice, but still as scary. 'Cos I've just seen it, on your floor. Well, I think we're going to play rubber sole. Just you, and me. I mean, that seems to be your thing, isn't it?’
???? What was she on about? But he never spoke at all, this time, never actually voiced the question. . And still, she seemed to hear him. Like he somehow had no protection at all, anymore. Like he had no skin, like people could get right through to touch his insides, access his thoughts, even..
'You'll see, said Angie. 'Tell me – now that it's my turn to take some liberties... have you still got that lamp, with the shells and sand? You know, in the glass bottle?'
'My grans?'
'Whoevers. So long as it's got the sand in it. That's the bit that really interests me, right now. I want you to get that, and go to the kitchen... no, actually, I want you to crawl to the fucking kitchen, and find some thick cream, or jam, or yoghurt, or something.... and I want you lie on your back on that floor, and rub whatever you find all over those marks, and then I want you to hand me that bottle....
???
'You don't have a problem with any of this, do you. I mean...?'
She took her foot off him, finally. Let him speak.
Yes, he did have a problem. But not one he had a solution to. 'No,' he said.
'Good,' she said. Because know you're going to be getting a fair sized bill, for all of this. And I fucking hope you're somehow able to pay, or.... well, there is no, or. Teach you to take what you didn't ought, the minute I'm not looking.... And if you do anything, I mean, anything I don't like, from here on in..? Well, your fucking Facebook page'll be just for starters. Okay, sweetie?'

Fuck. No way out. None at all, as far as Geoff could see. Hadn't seen this bit coming, either. Christ, what a mess.

* * *

'The thing is, Danni was saying. 'You're the boss of me.'
True enough – although it didn't always feel like it. But, to be fair, even Stacey wasn't sure how much being the boss counted, at midnight, not at work, and staying in one of your employee's family members' homes. And maybe, if that was going to be Danni's argument, then it might have to be partially conceded. Except... well, the other two of them had pretty much invited Stacey into all this, so...? 'Yeah,' admitted Stacey. 'That's me.
'In case you were wondering?' she added.
'No, I know,' said Danni. Real quiet, real embarrassed. Not the usual cocky as hell girl about town. 'But.... that's the point. My boss. But.... but not his boss?
'Oh right. So you're saying...?'
'No! Not what you think, probably,' said Danni, cutting back in, quick. Face now even going redder. 'But what I'm trying to say... it's hard. I'm not going to be having a go, if that's what you think. Seriously. It's sort of, the opposite.'
‘What, so you brought me in here to tell me I'm the best boss you even had, then? To thank me, for everything I've done, specially this last week, and...?’
'Well, yeah. Sort of. Only... only there's a part of me, that's been... well, jealous. '
'What? Of me?' Made sense, maybe. But funny, to hear someone like Danni admit anything so up front.
'Well, maybe,' said Danni. But actually....more... more, of.... of him?'
'Him!' Stacey was more shocked than ever. How the fuck...?'
'No, I mean. I mean, with you. Him, with you.... Christ, this is hard...What I'm saying is, like... like he's been getting more of the boss bit, than I have. Like... like...?'
The two of them were facing each other. Stacey, up on the bed, Danni on the floor, back to the wall. Stacey's legs, reaching out to the skirting, by Danni's bum. And Danni was suddenly staring at them, really odd, like she might just reach out, or...
'My feet bothering you?' said Stacey. As a kind of joke, after everything.
'No....no.... only that, if he'd been here....and with no pillows.... and, like I say. You ARE the boss of me. Even more than of him. That's what I'm trying to explain... only not very well. You might think I'm mad, letting you..? If you want, that is? And... God, I can't tell you how hard this is, for me to... I don't know, to admit, even, never mind to say?'
'What, you...?' Stacey suddenly felt like she might understand what Danni was clumsily inviting onto herself. What she might be suggesting Stacey could do, right now. Wasn't in the “Dignity at Work” briefings, that was for sure. And to offer it here, this minute, of all times, when Stacey was still pissed off with all these little games... 'Christ, Danni. If you're saying what I think you might be saying, then..? Are you really sure you want...? I mean, like, I'd always know. It wouldn't be something you could take back. I mean, you know what anyone could do with it. What anyone might...? Even me.. I mean, what if we fell out..? We could be... in court, even?'

Danni nodded, real shy, like she could fully understand, like this was on the right track... 'Well, yeah.. I mean, you think I don't know that? But, if it was just me and you, though? I mean, you wouldn't go telling people..? Right?'
'Yeah, but that's just it, isn't it,' said Stacey. If I've got this right... you'd be giving away so much, with no promises... I mean, me, I just... Well, I guess it's up to you, but don't come crying...?'

They were there, just kind of looking at each other, for maybe ten seconds. And then, when it seemed like something had to happen, and before Stacey could talk herself out of it, or before Danni could change her mind, or before... because Stacey had never, ever had an employee act like this before, and it would be mad to lose the chance of finding out how it would feel... she lifted on leg, and rested it on one of Danni's. And no one said a thing. That silence, again. They never even really looked at each other, this time, the two girls, for a few more seconds. If this was wrong, Danni would soon make stuff a whole lot clearer. But the silence was as clear as any words could have been. So Stacey lifted her other leg, and pressed her toes... right into Danni's face, this time. Pressed hard, pushing the back of her head firmly against the wall. Rubbed her foot on Danni's lips. God, please don't let this somehow be all misread, even now. It felt so fucking good, all of a sudden...

And then it came. The kiss, on her toes. She felt it, and she felt Danni's fingers close around her ankle, gently. And then she heard three words, muffled, but clear.

'God! Thank you!'
'You're very fucking welcome,' said Stacey, Very.... fucking... welcome.' And she pushed harder, into Danni's face, and then twisted, with her toes, right on her employees lips and nose. And all she got back... another, longer kiss. On her foot. Danni was.... kissing her boss's feet. For real. Like she really meant it.

* * *

It was a bit scary, once the other two had gone off wherever they'd gone. Angie was even less sure about how she should really be playing this, left to her own devices. Could just as easily have called up a taxi, got the hell out of it all. But this seemed like one of those doors that only opened every now and again, and she was still more than a little bit interested in finding what was behind it – for all four of them, not just for her. And... well, having Geoff so completely under her control was something she was finding a whole lot more satisfying than she'd have imagined. She watched him crawl round that flat. On his knees, just because she'd told him to be. Fetching the lamp, taking it dutifully to the kitchen, and then handing it to her – his girlfriend, standing there, on his records, and him down on the floor, not saying a thing. Terrified looking.

Angie put the lamp on the ground, and.... shocked herself, with what she decided to do next. She stamped on it. The glass didn't break, first time. The shade got well and truly smashed in, especially the bit her heel had smashed into, but... it took two or three stamps, before she had his Nan's little seaside collection scene leaking out onto the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. Angie kicked some of the bigger bits of glass under the breakfast bar, and then looked around for the other ingredient. Best she could come up with, in the end, was sun tan lotion. Seemed dead right, really, for the sand.

'Ok, on your back now,' she told him. 'By this top, here, where I can hold on. And...' she chucked the lotion bottle at him, which hit him, and then fell to the floor. 'Once you've got your trousers and pants off, I want this rubbed all over the tops of our legs. Over everything. Balls and that, too. K?'

He did as he was told. Didn't look like he had any idea, even now, of what was coming next. And Angie herself was still a little bit unsure. Why, exactly was she about to do this? Because of what that bitch in the lounge had done, to get even? Anything she can do? Of was there a part of Angie, that would always have behaved like this given the slightest invitation – never mind a big print, can't miss, RSVP, that she was about to reply to, big time.

Wasn't long before he had the lotion on. And that was when she bent down, scooped up the first lot of sand from round the bits of glass and scattered shells, and... let it start filtering between her fingers, down onto his white-creamed skin. It stuck. Just like she'd known it would. And when there was enough, she took one last look down at him, and then reached out for the edge of the breakfast bar, with one hand. She placed one foot on one of his legs, and then blew him a kiss, before saying, 'This is going to hurt, I promise you.' And, almost as soon as she spoke, she lifted her other foot off the ground, so that all her weight was on the tops of his legs - one foot on each thigh. Under her shoes now: the sand, the cream, and his skin. And then she started the twisting. Grinding it in, with those ridged soles - watching his face as she did it. Even a few seconds in, he looked like he was about to cry. And she hadn't even got started.

[kalkar]

please continue and some more crush seen...

[Steel Etto]

Danni was in a whole new place. She'd always thought she'd be the one on top, no matter what the relationship – or, certainly more or less an equal. But here she was, lips to her boss's stockings. Touching the moistness under those always-so-perfectly-painted toes, taking in the mix of perfume and that tiny hint of sweat on the nylon – which might even have been from Geoff's crotch, with all that rubbing that had gone on, for most of the past quarter of an hour. Danni didn't really think she should have been enjoying this so much, shouldn't have been craving it so madly, especially given all the reasons for her behaving this way. So she was cross with herself, for making the admissions she'd made, for 'coming out' with it. Stacey wouldn't be gentle with the opportunity for long, she wasn't the gentle kind, given the chance not to have to be. Which, of course, was why Danni was so fucking... absorbed... by the self-righteously arrogant bitch, right now. She just didn't seem to let up, with where she seemed prepared to go, no matter what the cost might seem to be to others around her. A lot of things that Stacey had done, the past few days, hadn't gone down well, with Danni - but the more out of order she'd been, the more...

It had actually upset Danni, seeing Stacey feeling round with her foot on that violin, preparing to step on it with the whole ten stone of her body, after all those years of it being dusted, and loved – even though they'd both gone along with it - where it was odds on she was going to put her heel straight through the wood of it, and probably even scrape the black off the sides of Miranda's fabulous courts, into the bargain. (And, Hell, she'd promptly done exactly that, on both counts – which had been horribly painful, even if in fairness Stacey was the one person in the room who hadn't known exactly what she was about to try and trust under her weight, in those sharp-as-hell spikes). And it had upset Danni, knowing they'd crushed Geoff's fingers so badly, under that fucking Audi - and that then she'd gone and reversed the bloody thing over his guitar, because of not being warned – and he'd always been a good player, and had been proud of all that stuff... and then, they'd actually trodden on his flesh, actually walked on his bare body, in heels. Both of them. Stacey, at least as much as Danni, causing at least as much pain, at least as many of those deep little marks. She'd even had him licking the pizza she'd trodden on, near enough eating it off of the bottom of her typically-Stacey-strappy-shoe. Like she had any rights... Like Danni had even had any, but... And every time she'd done it, Danni had got that bit closer to where she was now. She might often have thought herself a bitch. But she knew when she’d been outclasssed. And being so severely thrashed into second place by this woman.... it riled her, and excited her, both together, .

She kissed again. And again. She couldn't look up at her boss, yet. And she wasn't going to be able to hit Stacey with the next off-the-wall desire yet, either. But she knew she was going to go there, before long. Danni knew she was out of control, right now, with her thinking. She wanted Stacey to go even further. She wanted her boss to stand on her. To add Danni to the list. To step on her employee’s own bare flesh, like she'd done with that violin, like she'd done with... her brother's. Danni wanted to feel her do it, to feel....

Oh God, oh God. What made people this way? How could it ever have got to this? How and where could it possibly even have started?

Danni just couldn't get to grips with it, no matter how much she wanted the reality of it, now. It was like, she'd known there was some nagging thing, long back - as soon as she'd been given the first signs: she’d known, early on, that she’d met someone, in Stacey, with an attitude to fairness which was sometimes so dismissive of it, that the choices she made actually fascinated Danni, turned her on, even? But it hadn’t been like this, the feeling. She hadn’t always even believed that what she’d watched her boss do, had always been done on purpose. Like in the office, when Stacey would more often than not step all over the stuff that she’d chucked on the floor to be filed, when dealing with new phone calls or queries... and then let someone else sort it all out, the dirty little marks, the creases and heel-dents? But then, Danni could as easily have made that mistake herself, completely accidentally. But then there’d be times Stacey would tread on other people's stuff, too, where it was hard to say it was anything other than a choice. They’d even been at a meeting once, where Stacey had gone opening a widow where there was a heap of coats and bags on the floor, underneath it... and no other people were even asked, if they warm enough, if they even wanted the air coming in, and… Danni had actually watched her boss picking her spots, almost like with that violin, and with shoes that were just as spiky… two different coats, and then a bag… someone’s actual bag! Could have been anything at all in it. Glasses? Lunch? And Stacey was just stood there on it, with those heels sunk right in, fiddling with the sash, couldn’t give a stuff… No apologies, no… nothing. Didn’t get off, till she was done. Turned, took another heavy step on one of those coats, and… just walked back into the room, cocky smile.

Danni wouldn't have done that. Same as she probably wouldn't have done half the things from the past few days, left entirely to her own decision. Sure, she might have done some of it... but probably just the tamer stuff, probably more like just a bit of jostling for rank with a lad she’d grown up with, and less like... like completely trampling him into the dirt, and getting even a kick out of it.

She’d known, all along she’d had the right accomplice. She wasn’t sure, exactly, how much of it had been some kind of choice. But it was going to be a choice, now. She was going to see how far Stacey would take it, given the offers. And that was scary.

* * *

Geoff was struggling, too. The world was definitely going upside-down. If he'd have been asked how many girls he thought would have been prepared to actually step on him – or on any man, generally, come to that - he'd have thought maybe one in a hundred. If he'd been pressed on how many would have really enjoyed it, and not done it to please – or for money – then he'd have gone for a lot less. In his life, there'd been many half a dozen woman who'd ever even expressed an interest, and he'd avoided following up with those, like the plague: like, when he was working once, and some young women in an office (when he was under her desk, trying to sort her computer) had turned to her mate, nearby, and had said (laughing) that this was where she liked her men, at her feet – and then she’d actually pressed her shoe on his gut, for just a half second... which he'd thought was a joke, but which was so close to the mark, he’d known he’d gone red as hell, couldn’t say a thing - till she took got a bit spooked by his reaction, lifted her foot away…

And yes, there’d been other moments. But, mostly, he would have said it was in few and far between territory. Except, suddenly, he was in a one hundred per cent situation. There was Danni, of course, and maybe he wasn’t that shocked that Danni had played right along. But Stacey… and if anything, Stacey had been even more up for it. And now… even Angie. A whole new girl, and in exactly the same league as…

The look on her face had been incredible, as she’d dropped that lamp to the floor, and then stamped a foot onto the shade, flattening it out where she could keep it under the one shoe, hold the rest of the lamp fairly still, so as to… and…. She just looked like there was nothing she could have enjoyed more, than destroying the whole thing, just in order to get at the sand inside, where she could have asked Geoff to take the top off, just as easy… but then... now…

She was up on top of him, twisting, almost like dancing, most of the time using the balls of her feet, on the mix of sand and cream. Geoff could feel the soreness – but he couldn’t see the results, yet. She occasionally lifted a foot, and looked down at her work so far, smiled, seemed very satisfied with herself. And the she just kept going. Must have completely destroyed the top layer of flesh, already…

‘Did I ever tell you about what me and my mates did, once?’ she was saying. ‘To this girl, who messed around with my boyfriend? No, I don’t suppose I did. But, thing is, I didn’t really remember it, till earlier – when you were licking my shoe, looking like… a lot like she did, now I think of it. Like, she had this expression of, if only the ground would open up and swallow her. Except it never happens like that, does it. When you really want some kind of genie to come and whisk you away… just not in the script, in reality. So, did you like it? Kissing my feet, that is?’ …. ‘Come on, don’t be shy. You know, I’d really like to know. What’s it like, when you’re girlfriend’s using you as… as a doormat, I suppose? Cos, from up here, it works for me. But I guess it would, wouldn’t it. Like I’m the wiper, but.. what about the… wipee?

Geoff didn’t know what to say. He could say that he hated it. But then, that might not be the best strategy – because the next thing would be she’d want to know why he hadn’t hated it with Danni, or Stacey…. Unless he lied, and said they’d forced him somehow, and that could go wrong too….And one thing was for sure. Angie looked incredible, right now. Her face, her whole body, completely alive. Eyes, flashing like searchlights, shining right at him like never before. Even her movements, and even given the pain that went with them… this was the sexiest he’d ever seen her swing and sway, the most incredibly provocative her body had been, in all the time…

‘It hurts a bit,’ he started, finally. ‘But….’ A bit, a hell of an understatement.
‘But…?’
‘It’s hard,’ he said. Still stating the obvious.
‘Try.’ she said. ‘I mean, fucking try! Because, you never know…. But nobody ever got anything, unless they were prepared to put themselves out there. And I think I deserve to know, now, exactly what I’m dealing with. Exactly who it is, who’s skin I’m….. oh, Jeeze! That is soooo cooool!’

She’d lifted her foot again, was looking at his leg, one more time.

‘That is so, so red’ she was saying. ‘So, so red.’

Geoff tried to lift his head, to look. Straight away she reached out with the toe of a shoe, pushed it back down.

‘Ah, ah’ she said. ‘You still haven’t answered my question.

[doormat2002]

This is fantastic!

[hhhmmm]

SE:

Geoff tried to lift his head, to look. Straight away she reached out with the toe of a shoe, pushed it back down.

I hope that the toe of her shoe was pushing his mouth down. Btw, I have no idea of the type of shoe that you are describing:( Can you find a picture somewhere on the web, and post it?

Just wondering . . . . . .

hhhmmm

[Giblet]

Haven't finished reading it all yet, but enjoying what I have.

[Sauur]

FANTASTIC story! I love how there are two sets of domination going on. Please continue this awesome tale!

[Steel Etto]

Stacey was still surprised with Danni, even after that first moment of discovering the score as it stood, now, and the way everything had all apparently changed – again! She was surprised with herself, too. Part of her was more reticent that she'd have imagined – but not a big enough part, to make the difference. If even more people wanted to offer to throw themselves at her feet - provided they weren't just tramps, or other total wankers that you wouldn't even want touching your shoes – then there was no reason not to take full advantage. Her little slaves, everyone seemed to want to be – and Stacey could even remember playing that kind of game, herself, when she was younger. Although it was never her, who had to be the sad looking loser, crawling around taking orders. Never her, the shoe kisser, the foot rest, the tea-maker... And why should it have been, when there were so many others, apparently quite happy with that kind of role. Including, at appeared... the whole of Danni's family?

Well, so be it.

As far as Stacey was concerned, there were two types of lives to be lived in the world – the lives of the squashers, and the (much less appealing, much less safe) lives of the things (or people) that got slightly (or completely) squashed. Like with her cousins, and those slugs – and all those guts that got splattered under their rollerblades, ending up as gooey wheel-tracks all over the patio. No confusion. And sometimes, it really was that obvious. Sometimes, when things that got uppity, and came sliding out where they didn't ought.... then a carefully aimed foot or a wheel was as good a way as any to give them the message, show then the error of their ways. And anyone who didn't get a certain amount of pleasure from making clear the winners from the losers... well, odd fuckers. Stacey knew what if meant, to walk on someone – even for real, now, actually on a live body. She knew what it meant, too, when you used the words more as a description... but when that wasn't exactly what had happened, just a phrase.... Clear divide, but same idea. Those willing to take charge, and the other nonentities who wandered round bleating. She'd heard it said, so many times.

'That bitch just walked all over him!'
That would have sounded like a smart girl, someone was describing. But she might not actually have gone as far with it as Stacey. Might not have literally crushed real people's flesh under her feet.

But then, with Danni... It was harder. Danni had never struck Stacey as being in the nonentity category. Stacey would never have imagined her, with her head pinned hard against a wall by another woman's foot, her lips kissing the toes that were forcing the colour out of them? So Stacey would never have imagined herself actually being that other woman. But here she was. Just that person. And needing a piss, too – which was kind of annoying, because what if Danni somehow changed her mind about all this, by the time the pissing was done? Just as it was really warming up..? Just as Stacey was getting hold of the idea, properly?

Needn't have worried. A few minutes of deliberating on that, and on what might be going on outside the bedroom, with the other two, and then... bladders can only accommodate so much holding on. So she'd have had to take the risk. And when she did...

'I have to.... you know..?' Surprised, to find herself stuck for the words. ‘Pee’, she said, finally, sounding like some schoolkid.
'Sure. But, Stace..?'
'Yeah?'
'On your way out... will you... Danni looked like she was struggling again, too, for words. But then she came good. In more ways than one. ‘Will you walk on me?'
The message was so brave, in fact, that Stacey didn’t catch on, first off. 'Don't worry... I can get by...?'
‘No.... no,’ said Danni, red as a beet. ‘I mean. I want you to.’
Fucking shit. What a thing to say. Strange, really, that Stacey would have thought it took a loser to be walked on. But it must have taken guts, for Danni to make that invitation. And, what an offer. Like you might was well lay down a bunch of diamonds, or pearls or something… Danni, as a carpet! Wasn’t the same, as with Geoff. Truly, it wasn’t. And if Stacey had known, she’d have given in to her bladder earlier. Didn’t care less, who was out there, what else might still be going on in the flat. Stacey was going to that bathroom, and she’d be coming back, and both ways…
‘Better move yourself then, hadn’t you?’ she said. Trying not to sound so madly thrilled, trying not to sound like she was grabbing at the chance like mad, in case of it going away. But not completely succeeding. ‘Where I don’t have to try and walk through the wall, same time?’
Stacey took her feet off of her employee, for long enough for both girls to make the adjustments. Danni moved away from the wall, shoved herself along, crab position at first, and then lay on her back. Ready. And her boss didn’t keep her waiting. Tops of the legs, first off – first the left foot, then the right, one on each leg, till she had her balance. And just stood there, a second.
‘And anything you do that makes me feel like I’m heavy…’ she said. Half teasing, but half…
Danni shook her head. She was obviously struggling a bit more than she might have thought, but she wasn’t saying anything to stop it. Nothing coming from her lips along the lines of , ‘For Christ’s sake, get the fuck off, fat cow!’ So Stacey moved one foot nearer the middle, right on top of where Danni’s bush was. And then she got ready to make her moves.
‘Face to one side?’ she said. ‘Where I can go for your cheek, maybe, rather than chance breaking your nose?’
Danni’s cheek. Funny, really, Whose cheek others might have thought it was?
But Danni did exactly what was suggested, turned her head to one side, and Stacey got ready, route prepared. Reached out for the wall, for extra support, and then mentally noted it, again.
Bush: left tit: cheek: off. Looked safe enough.
‘So, don’t you go moving,’ Stacey said. ‘Specially not with me, and a bladder full?’
Danni said nothing. But her body tensed, as she prepared herself. And then Stacey went for it.
Her foot sunk in more than she might have thought, when she put her weight on Danni’s breast. But it was okay, with the wall to steady herself. The only thing was, it meant she was a bit less balanced, preparing for the last step than she’d planned, than when she’d imagined it, beforehand. She made a pretty much split-second decision on whether to still go for the face move, or whether to just twist and drop back to the floor. But the face won out, rather than the change of footing. Which meant it was a slightly clumsy step, and must have hurt Danni, because she let out a little squeaky groan And then back down.
Amazing. There was something about doing that kind of thing, that Stacey had always enjoyed. Not so often using people’s faces, of course, but…

(It had always been that way, Stacey had realised, later on. It just felt good, pressing a foot on something, feeling the pressure of it. And all the better if it was something that someone didn’t really want stepped on. Like the pages of car magazines – which were pretty much bits of boring crap, as far as Stacey was concerned, but which weren’t looked on in the same way by those guys who’d shelled out hard cash for the shiny photos…. Always upset them nicely, a well aimed stiletto putting a neat little dent in the page, or even the sole of a dirty trainer coming along and… Stacey had managed both, in her time, and more than once. Same as she’d put holes in lino, put scratches and dents in wood, and had even sent someone completely crazy, dancing – in her boots - on his pool table…)

Stacey stopped, by the door. Slipped on her shoes. She wasn’t quite sure of the reasons for that. It wasn’t like the toilet was out of doors. And then she went out into the hallway, tapping her way across the vinyl again… feeling pretty damned pleased with herself.

Strange? No one in the lounge? And no one in the bathroom, either – which was just as well. Got on with the job in hand, whilst thinking to herself…

She remembed all the times she’d played up to young men, asking them for this or that. Borrowing jackets, because she was cold, and then… one time, the guy was livid, where she’d spread his brand new blazer on the wettish grass, sat on it, and then when she finally got up she trod on it for a bit as she brushed herself down, before walking away, leaving it there….

She remembered deliberately lobbing her brothers’s models out of the side door, onto the shared driveway… where quite a few of them got crunched out of existence, from the woman next door - squeezing her car up and down the gap between the two houses, getting to and from her garage. She remembered the time she’d done it, and then been offered a lift to town…. He’d had this racing car kit, which he’d put together, and painted, and… it was only about an inch high, but maybe six inches long, plastic… made a really nice sound, when the back wheel went over it, and then… once the front wheel had added to the carnage, Stacey could see all the little bits. All that was left, as they backed further out into the road…

She’d always wanted to learn to drive.

And when she did, it wasn’t that long before she had her own chances. The first one, really mean. Some guy running for a bus, charged across the road a little way in front of that little Renault, whilst Stacey was taking that young secretary (whatever here name was?) down to the bank. She saw something pop out of his pocket, land in the road, same as her passenger did. She saw the man stop, turn, look panicked, start pointing…

His wallet. Right there, on the tarmac, in front of them. And Stacey, acting like she hadn’t noticed, but letting the car drift over to the left a little, more in line, where otherwise she’d have just missed, but…

Chhhnnnnnnk, chnnk. Surprisingly loud, the sounds of it, going under the tyres. And the reproachful look, from that secretary, who was laughing all the same. ‘Oh my god! I think that was his wallet? And we went right over it..?’ Like she could possibly have made some mistake, like maybe… He looked a sight, the man, in the mirror. And then there was the bus, not that much behind Stacey, and probably more cars… so, maybe in the end it had only been a question of whose wheels were the first… But Stacey had made sure of the answer to that one, and she didn’t imagine his credit cards would have been much use for anything, afterwards.

Out of the loo, into the empty lounge. Not a peep from anywhere. Stacey thought there might still be some wine in the fridge. Could be worth a look? And then

Hard to tell if Danni would be able to deal with the return journey, if the heels stayed on for a bit? Well, there’d only be one way to find out. But, wine first.


Opened the kitchen door…

[Steel Etto]

Thank you for the comments.

I will see what I can do about the pictures, or at least a link.

Basically, these are laced shoes, with a pointed toe, that have a pattern across the front and look like they should be flat - but some of them have heels, and some are quite high. There are kind of medium.

S

[iceblock]

Fuck the shoes man, could you please just keep continuing with the story???

I love where you've gone with this, thanks for taking the time to entertain us all. In fact as I was reading it, not realising it remains unfinished, I was just thinking that if I die in my sleep tonight (bloody unlikely I'd hope!!!) but if I did and this was the last thing I ever saw, then I'd be happy.

[Steel Etto]

Angie was getting right into the groove. Kind of like sanding – the way people would have got rid of marks on their normal floors, after half-wit Essex girls had gone knocking shit out of the finishes, with their high-heels: grinding the top surface away, and re-polishing. Except, there wouldn’t be any polish, in Geoff’s case. He’d just to have grow the skin back, that had been scraped away. And the sand was doing the scraping, no problem. Parts of his thighs looked like they were ready to start bleeding.

The only tiny worry in Angie’s mind, was why she’d decided on exactly this solution, just like that? Fine, so it was a hell of a buzz, and he deserved some serious redress – but it felt a bit like copying, all the same. Like whatever SHE could do I can do better? He could just have been kicked into touch. Or, at least, kicked into touch while the marks went of their own accord. Then again… why should he have got away with it, that easy? Whatever else you could say about this option, it was providing him with a whole ton of pain, emotional and physical, along with the surprisingly high amount of gleeful enjoyment for the girl in charge. All of which kind of got Angie to realizing that she probably wasn’t going to dump Geoff – or why bother, with the revenge, for a start off (never mind the thrill of it)? God, so confusing.

But of all the things Angie was thinking, as she carried on with her skin-stripping version of ‘The Twist’, the one thing she hadn’t factored in was a visit from the heel girl herself. In person. Just walking right in, stilettos and all, and…

‘Oh… fuck, sorry!’ And then just standing there, laughing.
Angie stared at her. Not sure what to say. It’s not that often that some relative stranger comes in and finds you standing on your boyfriend, with your shoes pretty much framing his naked cock. And his skin… so red, so bruised, so scraped…
‘I thought there was maybe some wine left?’ said Stacey. ‘I didn’t realise… I mean, do you want to share some, if I can find any?’
Angie had to hand it to the girl. She was acting cool as fuck, when it must have been as much of a shock for her, as for Angie. Like, ‘More tea, vicar?’ - when what was going on in that kitchen… well, it wasn’t exactly normal tea time type behaviour, even if this wasn’t the first time it had happened, this past week. It actually made Angie laugh, too – the matter-of-factness..

The other funny part of it, of course, was that Geoff was just lying there, dick on display, down on the floor – and nobody seemed to be giving a fuck, about that side of things. It was hard not to give the Essex girl a bit of serious cred, for her attitude to that, alone. Like, Geoff had been heaped up with serious shame, so far… and she could have reduced it, big time, by acting weird. But she hadn’t done anything of the sort. She didn’t look like she was about to start playing with his dick again, either. It was more like… he didn’t exist. Although he existed enough, for her to step round him, making her way to the fridge. There was a fair bit of crunching, from down on the floor, as she moved. Sand, and the occasional shell. One shell kind of exploded underneath her foot, right by his face.

She got the fridge opened, seemed pleased with what she found. 'Hey – a whole bottle. So, do you want some, or what?'
'Yea, okay,' said Angie. 'Just the one glass – if you want to take the rest?'
'Sounds good to me.' said Stacey. 'Then I'll leave you in peace, and you can... whatever,' she added, and smiled a really cheeky sort of smile.
Stacey poured Angie her glass. Another of those shells got crunched into pieces, in the process. Then she stepped back round Geoff, and made for the door. But she paused, on her way out.

'You know,' she said. 'I don't know that you and I are that different? Not that maybe you'd be too pleased to be told that, but... ‘
'Maybe,' said Angie. Not too sure. And she was going to leave it at that. But she just couldn’t. Something made her follow it up. She got the words in just in time, as Stacey was disappearing out of the door. 'But... I mean, what way, exactly?'

Stacey turned, took a couple of paces back into the kitchen. The two girls were around two feet apart, now.
'Oh, I dunno, said Stacey. 'Ways to deal with a problem, maybe? Like, I think I would have gone for something pretty much the same? If I'd've been you, that is?' Looking down, at the mess of Geoff’s legs, and Angie’s shoes, on top. Then looking back right into Angie’s eyes, as if she was searching for some kind of unspoken agreement between both girls. Was this her idea of an apology? Was this where Angie was meant to forgive it all?

And the trouble was, it was horribly – and incredibly - tempting, to forgive. Truth of it was, Angie didn’t have that much of a deal with Stacey, other than straightforward jealously. She was a bit of a star, in some ways - someone Angie could have got on with, no problem, in another situation. It was more about about crossness with herself, for not keeping tabs on stuff - not even bothering to find out that it was most men’s fantasy-girl, who'd turned up on his doorstep. No wonder the fantasies had come pouring out, as a result. Stupid mistake. Stupid, stupid… So, fine, one way you could look at it and say the bitch had been bang out of order, coming in having some kind of cheap sex game with another girl’s man. But then, if something looks and acts like a doormat, from the word go..? Well, then what would you expect another woman to do with your doormat, if she came visiting? Wipe her feet all over it, of course.

And, in fact, put in those terms - it would be disrespectful of her not to do exactly that.

So Angie laughed, again. And kind of smiled, and nodded. ‘Well, you know?’ she said. Not really knowing, herself, what that had meant. Just not wanting it to sound completely venomous. Because, that in itself, could have lost her more ground, when she felt like she was slowly catching up. Act bitter, look sad.

But there was something else here, too. Almost like she wanted to hand over some of this, to the girl she was busy resenting. Actually relive the pain of 'betrayal', again. Played out, live. Like with horror films, that you think you hate...but you rewind, and rewind.

‘Tell you what, though,’ Angie went on – an idea coming to her, almost from nowhere, as her thoughts tripped unstoppably on down these bizarre roads. ‘You couldn’t just pour a bit of that wine down on the floor there? Sort of… on that record with the pinkish label.
‘Spec so,’ said Stacey. And she walked past Angie, stepping round Geoff again, and tipped the bottle. It wasn’t that much, splashed out, but enough to make a puddle, with a few little spots surrounding it. She moved back, away from it.
‘Don’t want to step in it,’ she said. Like she was definitely expecting to leave it there for Angie’s foot, rather than looking to try it on. Then again, though, with a bit more encouragement..? she might..?

After all, she was still the same person, wasn't she?

‘Oh, I dunno?’ said Angie. ‘I mean, he might want to taste it, make sure it’s not corked?’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Stacey. ‘He might.’ So…?’ And then she began to play, more like before. She moved forward again, her heel on the surface of a record, just behind the puddle – and the sole, just above it, ready to press down into the liquid, if….?

But definitely like she was checking. Waiting for absolute consent. Waiting for Angie to make it completely clear, to give permission this time. Smart cow.

‘Bit lower, maybe’ said Angie. Deciding, definitely, that this was the way she was going to steer things, for now, and giving that confirmation. And as surprised, herself, as the Essex girl probably was, at the sudden turnaround – but both girls, seeming to hide the shock, keep the potential raised eyebrows at bay. And Angie... well, for some reason, she really wanted to see it. To actually check it out, know what it felt like to watch... to see this tarted-up-whore do her stuff, with...

Didn't take long. Down went the front of that shoe, into the puddle. A couple of little twists, which had a kind of gritty sound to them, from a few stray bits of sand, and then.
‘Nice’ said Angie. Almost like she really meant it, and probably enough so no one else could tell that was a part of her still mad as hell... ‘Okay.’ And she looked down at Geoff, prodded his gut with her foot. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘I think you need to lick it, off her foot.’

He went redder than ever. But Stacey… she never flinched. Never gave a look, like, hang on, doesn’t anyone else get a say in this…. Angie had made the request, and Stacey didn’t do anything other than leap to attention. She turned – a real feminine, flouncy sort of turn, keeping her on weight on her standing foot, before dropping her other foot down towards his lips. Might even have been described as sexy, or seductive, the way she did it. And the sole of her stiletto was actually dripping wine onto his mouth…
‘I thought I said to lick it?’ said Angie. ‘Poor girl, with your drink all over her lovely shoe. Aren’t you going to help her out?’ Worked well, that line, with the hint of sarcasm. Could have been intended a whole load of ways. And in some ways, it wasn't so very sarcastic at all.

Geoff lifted his head, as much as he could. And his tongue… slowly, reluctantly, closed the gap between his apparently unenthusiastic taste buds and the bottom of that high-heeled ‘spoon’. Then finally he’d got to work – like a cat, with a saucer of well-fucking-suspect milk.

Angie looked at Stacey again - who was being careful, still, looking back, checking. Like she was carrying on with her version of apologising. Playing it how Angie wanted, and playing it damned well. God, it was a bitch to admit, but she looked good, stood there, all her curves, leading down to… his tongue, licking under her foot.

Another real nice idea popped into play. If any of these ideas were nice. Sure as hell naughty...
‘You ever fucked a rug?’ Angie asked. And even for a second or two after she'd said it, she was still enjoying the words she'd chosen.
Stacey laughed. Like she knew, exactly, where that question had suddenly come from, and what Angie was asking.
‘Not sure,’ said Stacey. But I’ve fucked lino, well enough. Thing is, though – lino don’t get harder, when you step on it. If you know what I mean.’
Angie didn’t get it, at first. But then she saw the joke. A bit close to the mark, maybe. But… it was like the two girls were trying to get onside with each other, rather than fight. So maybe Stacey was trying to help Angie goad the rug, rather than be goading Angie herself?
‘Yeah, sorry.’ said Stacey. ‘I didn’t mean…’ like she’d just worked out exactly what had been going on in Angie’s head.

Maybe it was true. Maybe they weren’t so different.

‘Yeah.’ Said Angie. That’s my problem, see.’ Starting the game again, after that little stutter. ‘Whether to this one’s even worth fucking, or not. Or whether just… what do you think? Do you think there’s any wear left in it?’
‘What are you asking… ME, to…?’ For once, Stacey really did look surprised.
Well, no actually, but…

‘You know what,’ said Angie. Why the fuck not? 'I mean, not… you know… but..?’ And, yes, fuck it. Why the fuck not. It had already been done, and it would sure as hell him hurt even more, this time... and this wasn't behind anyone's back, and... So then she did something really evil. She moved, from where she was standing, up onto Geoff’s chest, and the top of his gut. Sort of sideways on, with her back against the breakfast bar. Leaving the naked part of him exposed… ‘ maybe you can give me your opinion, on whether it’s still up to much? Help me make my choice, about what to do with it?’

Stacey moved away from Geoff’s mouth, and inspected the bits of his legs that she was being invited to tread on. ‘You sure?’ she said. To Angie. Sounding really like she wasn’t so sure, herself. Like she didn't quite trust, but wanted to play...
‘I’m sure,’ said Angie. And then, if it hurts, and if it takes it without complaining, then…. maybe later on I might bring myself to kiss it better. But only if it’s really good, that is?’

Hard, to keep the line going. But she managed. And there was a part of her, really wanted the thing she was provoking to happen, for real. Some bit of pleasure that also had added pain.

Stacey gave her a real good look, right into her eyes. Like Angie had said a whole lot of things, in that last sentence, and she hadn’t failed to pick up on a single one of the implications. Like the offer of the still-slightly-flimsy fig leaf could have been more… more fucking complete, in where it went. If Stacey was to get up on those ripped to fuck red legs, in those shoes, and if he managed to survive it, then Angie would… kiss, where those blond-Essex feet had been. She’d be going part way to answering the question about fucking a rug… and she’d be laying little kisses on the marks from the shoes that had helped fuck it, in the process.

If Angie had even had any doubts about what Stacey was likely to do, with that kind of challenge…. The moves she made next were sheer sex, encompassed. Almost like a dance, again – up, and then round, like a jump and twirl, all in one, and then she was there, next to Angie, back against the breakfast bar. She reached along, picked up her wine, took a sip. Offered a sip to Angie…

He looked like he really was going to cry. But she… Angie couldn’t see the heels of those shoes, but she knew where they were, roughly, and from Stacey’s stance there was no way they could be doing anything but digging in like crazy, on his red-raw flesh.

Angie handed back the wine glass, and then reached for her own.

‘Cheers!’ she said. Almost meaning it.
‘Cheers!’ said Stacey.

And then, surprisingly, after maybe only a minute or so, she dropped back down to the floor. Kind of stepped off him, like stepping off a pavement, but still like she was in some kind of dance routine. There was a snapping crunching sound, as one of those records didn’t survive the ordeal, her landing a stiletto on it, from the extra height.

‘Gotta go’ said Stacey. Really. But…. Tell you what. If you need a bedroom tonight, instead of the sofa…. Well, Danni won’t mind. She can sleep on the floor, in mine.’
‘The floor..!’
‘Yeah, serious now. I mean, it’s not a problem. She’ll probably enjoy it.’

Stacey crossed the kitchen one last time. She found herself a saucer. Then she took the saucer, the glass, and the bottle, and made a final crunch-laden trip to the door. At least one more of those shells flew into pieces, and the record she’d just cracked… wasn’t in any way repaired, by another trip across.

One last turn, at the door.
I never mean’t… she said. ‘I mean, like I say.. maybe we can have a proper drink, sometime? Have a laugh? Still. Don’t do anything I….?

‘Christ’ said Angie. ‘So what does that…. Don’t do….?
‘Exactly.’
And she was gone.
Angie didn’t feel like she’d exactly won that, hands down. But she didn’t feel like she’d lost, either. Not in the same way Geoff had lost. And even he…

It wouldn’t be long, before he had lips against those…. OMG!
The marks that Stacey’s weight on him had just made, in those heels… they were dark purple, against bright red. Clear, and deep.

But then again: if they’d been in the Tate, they might have been a candidate for the Turner. Whatever way you looked at them, they were pretty damed awesome. The marks, and... hated to admit it, but even the girl herself.

And if Angie WAS like her..?

[iceblock]

Thanks mate. I appreciate the time it takes to write something like this and am glad you have spent your spare time for our benefit (and yours I suspect. Writing like this must be fun!). I've just gone back through your profile to read your other stories here and can highly recommend them to anyone who may not even know they exist.

[Steel Etto]

Really liked the comment, thank you.

Yes, it is fun... bits of times, the girl kind of takes my head over, and...

S

[Steel Etto]

That had hurt. Really, seriously, fucking, resistance-crippling, wanting-to-scream-out-loud agony! Of all the things that had been done to Geoff, the past few days – Stacey, up on the tops of those sore, raw legs, in those shoes? The only blessing, it hadn’t been for that long – although, fucking long enough. It had been how Geoff would have imagined it, for those mad sods that went and had operations, without anaesthetic. No clothes, and hardly even any skin, to protect him, and she'd...

Now she was off him, though, and the just receding pain was left... it was getting better all round, exciting him again, even - that the fucking sadistic bitch had gone and done it (and with Angie right alongside!). But it was confusing him again, too. Not just his own confusion, either, that still wouldn't go way, but – like, what the fuck had Angie been playing at, herself, suddenly making this huge about turn, getting all pally with someone she’d seemed to be hating, not ten minutes before? What was the deal? Was she cross, not cross, okay with it all, mad as hell? Seemed to be all of these, at once.

Might be safer, now, for Geoff to be braver, to ask her what the deal was, given things were getting to be even more in the open? - especially after what had just happened? Except, there was still one more huge problem, no matter what. Those cave-woman carvings, on his chest? What about when she finally saw those? Would she offer to kiss him there, too, like she'd just pretty much offered to kiss the wounds from where the woman she was supposed to loathe had near enough driven her fucking stilettos clean through the tops of his legs (and with Angie apparently cheering her on, all of a sudden)? Didn't seem likely, even given the recent form. Probably ought to try and do something, though, to bring back more of the old friendliness, between then. Should have been easy enough to talk, in theory. She was close enough, after all: still up there, stood on his chest and gut, just drinking wine, occasionally looking down at him – and thank God for the T-shirt, for more reasons than one. She hadn't said a word, though, in maybe twenty seconds, since Stacey had left them be. Until...

'Problem, babe?' Kind of sarcastic, like a lot of what she'd been saying was kind of sarcastic, yet kind of real as anything.
'Ange...? I... I know you think I've been out of order. I know maybe it's hard, but.... I don't really know what...?
'Hurt, did it?'
'I thought... yeah. To be honest, I thought... yeah, it did. But...'
'Didn't hurt the same, though, when she did it all on her ownsome, I don't suppose? When I guess you just lay there, fucking pathetic, like...yeah, go on, anything you want, m’lady? Dig fucking holes in me, stomp all over my fucking dick? Whatever your pert little tits’ desires are? Like, I don't know what. Fuck me, Geoff – why are you laying questions on me? Is it me, supposed to have all the answers here? Like you go getting in to all these things, with other fucking women, and I don't have any idea about you, and it's me has to work out what happens next? Yeah, well - what if I can't? What if.... you know what, you hardly even know me, either, and you haven't even told me clearly if you even want to try and sort that out, or that you even want me to... and then you go doing... You know what, as far as I know, this parts in all this that you're still loving, even right now, maybe a lot more than I am, trying to work it out? As much as anyone knows anything, that is. Like this isn't exactly normal stuff, in case you hadn't noticed. So why should I understand it any better then you... when you obviously don't seem to have a clue, or certainly not so's you'll let ME in on it? I mean, that seems to be the evidence?'

She stopped for a minute. Took another sip of wine. Wouldn’t last too long, that glass, if she kept that up. But before Geoff could gather his own thoughts...

'You know what?, she went on. 'Did I ever tell you about this girl, where me and my mates....after she messed us round big time? Ended up, she did what you did, with my shoe... yeah, she kissed it, alright?... and I... I fucking liked it. Fucking liked it, even though her mouth was bleeding, where she'd been punched, and even though my shoe ended up... this little pouty shaped red pattern, right where her fucked-up lips had been down by the ground, kissing the dirt on my feet... it wasn't her make-up, that red, and I never wiped it off that shoe, not for ages... did you know about that, or even think I might... No, course not. And anyway, it's not even like that. It's more... That was about me, though. About what made me good, at the time, and fuck her, and her blood. This..? I don’t know who it’s about, or even… it's not that you kissed my foot, and I liked it, or you kissed Blondie's, or even your fucking sister's, and I didn’t...it’s not that simple... it’s... fuck, it’s complicated. And you’re not fucking helping.’

She leaned back, then forward. Shifting weight, but on the same parts of him, arse still leaning against the breakfast bar. It was hard. Hard to breathe, sometimes, and hard to hold the weight of her, for such long periods. And they dug in, those shoes, after a while, even if they weren’t… weren't the same deal as Stacey's, which it seemed best to say zero to the power of ten about. Apart from anything else, it was starting to feel pretty good, again, laying under his own girlfriend's feet, rather than... and though all this amount of time with the pressure of it was hard, there were worse possibilities than just physical discomfort, if he asked her to get down. Her shoes were doing a good job of keeping that T-shirt pinned right where it needed to stay.

After all, if he could keep this all more on track from here on in... this could be his fantasy girl, right here, without it having to be a fantasy – this very girl, the one actually standing in his kitchen, on his chest. If he could just be honest. With himself, as well as with her. Just... make a real choice, about all this. Himself. Geoff knew that. And knew he was being crap, at sorting it.

And he could feel for her, plenty, too - the way she was grabbing round for explanations, for sense to it, for patterns. It wasn't her, had started all this. He could see her point, on that, and he could see, no problem, how she could be as lost with it, in some ways, as everyone else. Never heard her swear quite this much, either. But then, if she was upset by it, why... why carry it on, why do with Stacey what..?
'But you don't have to...' he tried.
'Oh, really. Well, that's what you think. But, maybe I do. Maybe that's what I want, even? I’m not saying it’s all bad, or that there’s none of this might not be fun… Thing is... you know what, I'd probably even take these shoes off now, where I’ve had them on all night, except there's broken glass... so, whatever, even if I do, even if I make myself feel more comfy, you're going to have to get stood on, no matter what. So neither of us really have that many choices. And that much, there's going to be no apologising for. You're own fucking fault, and I’m not about to back off. Don't know why not, but I'm not. And all I'm saying is, it's not like I can really say it's me, deciding all this?'

Geoff could tell she was still massively pissed off – not just from the words, but from… He felt like he owed her something, but… what…? He tried, the best he could. 'Yeah, but Ange....if you think I don't... love you...don't care,..? You're wrong. I mean, I do. I just... Geoff was glad he'd got that out. Because it had always been a little bit true, even before - but, tonight, she'd made it even more firm, more real. Some girls would have ended up looking like complete washouts, in her position. But even now, with her stood there, still cross, still treading all over him, sinking her shoes right into his gut.... eyes still burning, everything about her still pretty much together, and seriously sexy... ‘It feels… great… you there. It feels….right.. I just wish…?’

One of the things, in all this confusion. He really didn't want to lose her. Not now. So what else was he to say? There was a limit, to what she was going to believe, given…

'Yeah, maybe, she said. And kind of smiled, took another swig of wine. 'Know what', she went on. 'It's kind of like... if you want me to try and explain even just a bit of how it is for me, right now… just one of the feelings, I've had, about what’s maybe going on here... And I dunno if this will even make sense, but... it reminded me, just a flash of it, just after… after she just went out… But... You even wanna hear it?

Geoff wanted. Rather her, than him, do the talking. He told her so. And lay there, with her up top, looking like she was getting more into it again, with her man down at her feet… unquestioning rug duty, for the girl of the moment… ‘Yeah, course I want to hear . If I look like I’m not… thing is, if I look a bit strange, well… I mean, I’m not saying for you to get down, but... I mean, I want you to stay as you are, bib time... it's only...? Just cut me a bit of slack, when…?'

'Oh. Yeah, I guess. Well, right then.' She started off. 'But don't you dare look at me stupid, if it doesn't add up for you. Cos it doesn't completely add up for me – but it feels like its something that maybe.. and like I say, it didn't come to me, till just a while back. Anyway, here goes. I was in this posh house with this girl, once, didn't really know her all that well, and she was sitting around, messing with her daddy's laptop... swivel chair, thick pile rug, all that kid of deal - and I was just there waiting on her deciding where to go, so we could... well, we were sort of matey enough, sometimes, went out now and then. Anyway, there was this really amazing-looking butterfly, came flapping in from nowhere, garden or something. Christ, this sounds mad, already, me saying it. It's probably just one small part of this, and maybe not even close to being something that’s the same for you, as for me, or that more than one of us can actually understand - and, like, I’ve never told… Anyway, I've fucking started. And at least I'm trying. So, there it was - all fucking sunny and red, and white, and just… completely ace. But then it went and dive-bombed straight to the floor, right by her fidgety-arsed feet, like, really close. Still alive, all right – but just laid there, flapping away. And I knew full well she’d never noticed it, head in the clouds, the same way she always was, so my heart was suddenly thumping away like mad… I mean, all that caterpillar stuff, the cocoon, or the chrysalis, or whatever: all that trouble it had gone to, to get to look that cool... but then it was like its final ambition in life was to get itself smeared all across the bottom of some stupid-rich-girl's shoe…. And she'd have been the perfect choice, to grant it that particular wish, no fucking question – I could just see her, still tapping away on that keyboard, while she mashed it into the carpet, not a fucking clue. And I can’t tell you how much I didn't want that clumsy twat even near that thing, right at that moment. Like…. I dunno, like I could have ended up hating someone, like I was already starting to hate her, with her not even knowing what it was all about, till it would’ve been too late. So... You getting this..? Am I talking to myself, here?

She looked a Geoff. Who already had a horrible feeling he might just find himself understanding parts of this, almost more than she’d imagined – however good she was already imagining. And he was trying not to show it, the fascination… ‘Yeah, no, I’m there. I mean, kind of. Go on..?’ Hardly able to dare to say. It was true, he wasn't sure exactly how this linked in with tonight, but he could see how it just might... and he wanted to know the rest, for damned sure…. Fuck, what a start, to his latest journey?

‘Okay,’ she went on. ‘So I told her, to watch out – fuck, more wine.’ Stopped, had another sip, moved a little. Which hurt, where she trod so's she pinched part of Geoff's skin between her heel and a bone, and stayed there... ‘Cos,’ she went on, face still in the glass, almost, ‘like I said, she could be a right clutz, the best of times. I even asked her to pick it up, move it - careful like, not kicking it all across the room or anything - make sure it stayed safe, maybe put it back outside? Honest now, I was near enough begging her, and the more I begged, the more I was hating her, sitting there, all smug, making me…. I was that fucking worried. Cos I mean, I knew her enough, to know what she could do.. what she could fuck up, never mind all the pedicures, and creams, they never made it any different, when she was on the loose… forever doing it, stepping on papers and photos and stuff, fidgeting away, not even noticing, crumpling them all to hell... world of her fucking own, the whole time. But she never even really thought about what I was saying, not properly. Never moved a thing, not even a fucking inch – not her, not the butterfly, nothing – partly, I reckon, cos she could see how much it was getting to me. Probably enjoying it, winding me up, seeing me scared witless for what might happen, still near enough begging… So she said it was fine, looked at it, said she knew it was there, now, and… I don’t know why, honest I don’t, but… I didn't do a thing, either... I went with it, like I really believed I was trusting her, though it was hard as hell, cos really....But for a bit, she’d seem to remember... and even then, she'd suddenly tread right next to it, mostly like it was on purpose, but... every time it happened, my heart would be going, thump, thump, thump, all over again... watching each little move she made, eyes glued to her boots… which had these real clumpy soles on them, that kept going almost right on top of the thing... not to mention the chair, big leather back, Miss fucking executive, swishing round, with the wheels... And that poor little bugger, laying there, probably fucking terrified, with what was going on around him. Just missing, just missing. Fucking torture, the whole thing.’

Another swig of wine, and then....

‘Thing was, those boots. I'll always remember those boots, till I fucking die, probably, cos I really liked them...up until that day. They were purple, and kind of cool, and had real nice tassles by the ankles, flat, with a wicked tread pattern on them, on those exact same soles… at least, that’s what I’d always reckoned, before… I’d tried them on, I’d even thought about buying some… in fact... well, that's for later, maybe..... But that day, suddenly, I really didn't like them, and every time she went next to those tiny little wings with one, my heart went off again, boom, boom, fucking boom, like it’d explode. I hated her, for putting me through it, and those boots suddenly looked so big, so cruel... just like her, that day... and, you know what?’

She fixed Geoff, a real hard stare, And if she didn’t see now, that he was gripped to hell with this, whatever the exact relevance… when then she was blind. She had to be noticing. She was no idiot. God, he understood… Please, fucking go on. And she did. Oh fuck she did.

‘I never know, in the end, if she just forgot, or if she did it on purpose... but I reckon the way it happened, it had to be an accident, cos I don't reckon anyone could have judged it like that, those last few moments, with thick boots like that – specially not her. Her fucking trade mark, all over. See, she kind of turned’ (and Angie kind of turned, as she said it) ‘and she swivelled that chair, where she was facing me, and – and. I still don't know why the fuck I'm telling anyone this, after all this time, but... anyway. Suddenly, there it was, right under her foot, only a tiny bit of it poking out, and she was kind of talking to me, some crap, and the sole of her boot was just kind of rocking a bit, but actually resting on it... except she didn't have either foot completely flat to the floor. It was like, she was mostly squashing just one wing, and a bit of its middle, but not with all her weight, just the side of the boot, sometimes a bit heavier, sometimes a bit lighter... but with those dirty great treads pressing its body flatter, the whole time, just the same.. so she had to be hurting it, and if she'd just angled her foot a tiny bit different, put it more on the level, than that'd have been the end of it, right then.... But it wasn't, and I was just watching, with her just keeping pressing that boot on it, over and over... but not quite enough to… cos the wing was still trying to flap, but less and less, and no way could the poor thing have got away, and ... but you know what? I could have said. I could have told her, and she’d have had no choice but to stop… unless, of course, she'd have gone that far, to upset me… But.... even though I fucking hated watching it, fucking hated it. Hated her, hated the look of her sitting there, yappig away, mangling those wings out of existence, bit by bit.. like, you could see each time she pressed harder, they’d get crushed that bit more, between her foot and carpet.. and I hated the way my heart was thumping....but I just watched, and made that heart carry right on, like I wanted it, the way she was making me feel, with every little move, every little muscle. Don’t think I’ve ever watched another girl’s foot so close, not even…And after a while, she moved a bit different, and this time she kind of dragged it, still flapping, still not completely flattened, and…still, it looked so lovely, that wing, and her and those shitty boots, dragging it right across the floor, where I could even see traces of mud on them…. It wasn’t dead at first, but no way did it ever look like it’d fly again.’

And? And, and, and? Fuck’s sake. Geoff could have been there, in that room, Seen his versions of that roulette. Heard his own heart thump, in time. Still didn’t make sense maybe, why she was comparing this with…. but he knew her point, just the same. ‘And..?’ he said. Really nervous, squeaky voiced.

‘Yeah, well then she saw, and just kind of looked at me, kind of, ooops. And then ran the fucking chair over it. Completely. Back and fore, till it was just a fucked load of crap and bits of it were staining the carpet, and... fuck, honestly, I could have killed her, could have wept. But, for all that…. See, there was a part of me... like I always told myself it wasn't my fault, that she was a careless fucking bitch, that.. But I never fucking stopped it. I knew, and I watched. And I’ve thought about it, over and over, and... the minute it landed, I'd known, if I'm honest, how it would most likely end. So, why... I mean, what...?'

She stopped again, looked at Geoff, like she really could have done with some sort of response. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. She’d nailed it. A hole part of the inside of his own head. Bang on.

'You know what, she went on. These shoes are coming off, glass or no glass. So you're gonna have to stay as you are a good while longer, cos I'm really not stepping on this floor, the mess it's in. So, hope that suits – cos its tough, if it doesn't. But it makes you think, though doesn't it? You know, like - how it would be, for … your mum, say, or your Dad. If they were looking at you now, with me here, same as I was looking at that fucking butterfly, that day, and feeling... would they think about what I’m doing to you in the same way I thought about… shit, wish I could get her name. Well, fuck it, anyway. Who knows. People... Except, if there's any more wine in that fridge, then I'm gonna have a bit more. And then I'll tell you something else, about that girl. Seeing as it's me, doing all the talking? But, I mean, am I making any sense at all, here? And I'll tell you something else. If you ever, ever try and use any of this against me..!''

Geoff looked right into her eyes. Tried to smile, tried to let her know, even though he was still nervous – it wouldn't have been easy, for him, to tell a story like that. But she’d… 'You know what, Ange' he told her. You're a star. Honest I mean, I never thought..'
No' she cut in. 'You never. Never fucking do, blokes. And don't think this is all in the clear now, just cos.... cos it isn't. But...’
And then she stepped off, took a step over to the fridge, putting her foot in the puddle of wine on the way.
'At last. A fucking result,' she said. 'Breezers. Cool. Just need the opener, and...'

A minute later she was back. Pulled up a chair, this time, by the tops of his legs, but looking towards his face. Sat down, stuck her feet on his gut, and then... like she said. Took off the shoes, and then the socks.... chucked one of those into that wine, didn't seem bothered where it had landed. Almost seemed to have aimed it there. Then brought the chair over closer, moved her feet nearer his neck, stroking his chin, near enough. He could actually smell her toes. Nice, actually, not rank..... he looked, up, noticed where her eyes were fixed, saw her, kind of looking down to the legs of the chair... like.... the records, taking the weight, pinned under those four metal prongs, where even a week ago... and even then, right then, it made even more sense, how it all fitted, what she was saying – like, she was really trying hard to help him, to connect – even if she was making it all up, just for his benefit.. Cos, for her, those records wouldn't have been a big deal. Not colourful, or stunning. But for him, watching... Christ, she was so right. So right, the way she was understanding it.

Geoff couldn't believe, right then, that it had taken him so long to get to this place. He couldn't believe, that earlier in the week two other women had been so much higher in his thoughts, and Angie so much lower. Even though, of all the things he specially liked, in has fantasies, kissing women's bare feet wasn't on the specials board - and hadn't even been on his main menu, just a few days back, if he was honest.... for this girl, his girl, he couldn't imagine anything he'd rather do, right now, if that was what it took, to make this right. Fair play to her... fucking amazing, so far. If Geoff had died, right then....But then, it went on. She kept going. Coming up with stuff, making it better, easier, even. Talking about things, up front as hell, the way no one had ever talked about stuff with Geoff, in his life.

'So, we getting anywhere?' she said. Not waiting that long for an answer, like she could see she was getting all the answers she wanted, pressed against her toes. 'So - you wanna know how I knew about the photos, and the newspapers?' she went on. 'Cos, I reckon you'll understand this well enough, if you understood the other?' She stopped again, looked at him. Kind of smiled even, this time. Then got back to it. 'Well, the photos was easy. My mum got all ours out one day, to show, and she spread them out, on the floor, and... yeah, exactly... completely crumpled, not ten minutes later... and, you know what, I've even remembered her fucking name. Louisa! Walked in, sat down.... could have been on any other seat, any other bit of floor, but .. not her. She was just incredible. Even with like... Christ, that was as bad, in a way... where they had loads of snails and stuff, round her neck of the woods... and it was like she could home in on them, she was that lethal... I’d be walking along next to her, and I'd see one, and we'd get up closer, and then I'd just wait, as we got to more or less the right place, and all I’d do was listen... where I wouldn't be able to see, and wouldn't usually need to... Cos, nine times out of ten, I'd hear it, exactly when I'd expected, half a second later: another shell, getting smashed flat... and she wouldn't even look back, to see... But, anyway, the other thing about... Louisa. We used to go to this newsagents, where the Pakistani who had the place always had loads of stuff, and you could hardly move - so he used to have newspapers all laid out on the floor, by the magazines. You could see where people had kicked the edges, sometimes. But... with Louisa… when we used to go in there, I used to do this really bad thing, and I'd ask her to reach me down a Vogue, or whatever, and then I’d change my mind, and ask for something else... and she was guaranteed with it, every time. She just never seemed to notice when it stopped being floor, started being Guardians, or Suns, or whatever. And if it had been raining out, the types of shoes she wore, then.... dirty patterns, all over them. Like, really obvious looking, sodding great footmarks. But even if it was dry, she had this way of never being still, even when she wasn't moving anywhere special, so somehow no matter whether she left prints on stuff, she’d still ruck up all the pages, like with mum’s photos... and until that day, the laptop day, I’d always thought it was just a laugh, in that shop. I used to see the look that Pakistani’s face, right from when she’d walk in, and see how close he'd watch when it got to the bit where she’d be about trample all over his stock, yet again, like fucking clockwork... and you know what, he always looked real close, but he never fucking said a thing, and he never changed his shop round... so, dunno what that tells you, how many fucking weirdos in this world, not just me, and purple fucking boots, ,or you, and... but….

Hit a bit hard, there. But Geoff could see where she was driving. Not rally as mean as she could have been, about his sad little secret existence... Kept kissing, kept listening. And she kept going.....

'But the thing is, that's not the whole of it. And honestly, you don’t even tell anyone this, or it’s the facebook! Cos, after that day, with those same boots... if she had them on, in that shop, those purple ones, and if I did the same old routine… it was different, all of a sudden. She'd be stood there, about to step into the damage zone… but whatever the picture was, on the paper in front of her... Christ, this is so hard to admit, even now... I feel such a bitch... but … it wasn't any old picture, any more, in my mind. I started was imagining those colours were... well, come on, do I have to spell this out. There was something about her, in those boots, after what she'd done... And, do you know, what I'm trying to say is, if Stacey whatsherface had been the one in that chair, that day, with them shoes she has on.... well, okay, so if she went and stood on a butterfly with them fucking things, then... I'd want to cry my fucking eyes out, the mess she’d make of it, but.... whether I'd stop it, like, really stop it...? Do you know what, I’m not even going to try and go on, here... some things, you just don't... And I think I've said pretty much enough?'

Small gap. But she hadn't quite done.

Thing is though, babe. I want something clear, here. If you’ve been looking for a Louisa, or a Stacey, or whoever, where it has to be you, on that carpet... if that's the way it works, for you... the thing that makes your heart go crazy…? Well, I can’t say I’d ever go quite that way, myself, but… not to be in your place. But, if that's what does it, in your head... Just understand one thing, real good. I don’t want comparing with anyone. I don't want to be me, but with you pretending I'm someone else. And I don't want any more of.... Like, I don’t know what’s under this Tshirt, and I guess I don’t want to. But, you don’t ever…
If you’d wanted to grovel round someone’s feet, then you had a girlfriend. Who'd have fucking liked it, enough, if only you’d bothered. You should have fucking….

Geoff turned his face, found it hard to look her in the eye. She was so dead on, he could see that...

'Hey, and don’t think your off the hook. Because you’re not.... but you can keep kissing my fucking foot, though, specially the amount of times you’ve probably kissed hers..! All I'm saying is, that. If you want to be some kind of… well, whatever you want to be, you need to be MY one of it, not anyone else’s, unless I say so… you understand that. Cos if you do, then maybe..?'

Geoff kind of nodded. As much as he could. And got a gentlish but noticeable kick to his face, by reply. 'Well, go on then, keep kissing. Then you can suck a bit of wine from…. Bit wet, that sock? And later, if you do really good, then maybe I’ll kiss where I said I would – but you’re not taking that Tshirt off, and even if we share a bedroom….. we’re not sharing a bed. Not yet, matey boy.'

‘Or what do I call you... my little Red Admiral?' And she laughed, For the first time in ages, she actually laughed.

'Understood?'

'Oh, and by the way. I’m not going any further with this, right now. But she was an Oxfam girl, our Louisa. Save the fucking environment, would you believe – even though her feet must have endangered more species than World War fucking 2. Never averse to someone else taking the gear down the shop for her, though - lazy cow. So those boots… well, I know for a fact…'

[Steel Etto]

Stacey felt good. Perfect mixture of feelings. She was wired in all the best ways, and she felt… like a woman always should. But she felt kind of humbled, too, and kind of relaxed. No way could she have predicted how this week was going to go. And if someone had warned her, at the beginning, what she'd be in for if she accepted a room in this mad ‘hotel’, then she’d probably have stayed home. No way would she have thought she could have felt like this, at the end. Excited, dreamy. Ready for the next bit. No, not ready. Wanting it. No matter how strange...

Christ if there’d been adult clubs, for this kind of thing, then anyone walking in now would have thought Geoff was running one, in his own flat. Except, they’d have been wrong. If anyone was in charge of this, it wasn’t Geoff. And it wasn’t Stacey, either, although it seemed like plenty of people were prostrating themselves all over the place, mainly for her benefit… with the whole collection of carpets, and the foot kissing, and shoe licking, no matter what room she went in… Wasn’t Angie, either, leading the dance. Though she seemed to be getting more towards the front line, spending less time in the chorus. Nice kid, too, it was turning out. Smart. Stacey had always had a soft spot for the smart ones.

But if anyone had been instigating all this, right from the off. Well, she was waiting on the floor, for her boss coming back…. At least, she’d fucking better be! Or she wouldn’t be getting any saucers of wine. And Stacey was all tingly, about that – her heart actually beating faster, as she got to the bedroom door. Because the humbling bit of all this? It was that someone like Danni would give Stacey the chance to… This wasn’t some scummy little slave, some slobbering low-life. Fuck, if Kirsten fucking Dunst had been the other side of that door, on that floor, waiting for Stacey to come in and trample her into the carpet… it wouldn’t have felt any better. Which was why Stacey was having a fair few thoughts, about exactly how she was going to go about it, the next bit. She wanted it to be sure that the compliment was understood, wanted it to be… not cheap.

She pushed the door open. And any fears she might have had that Danni would have given up, gone off to her own room, fed up with waiting - or else might have decided this wasn’t what she’d wanted, after all? Well, no need to have worried. She was there, more or less where she’d been left. Except, she’d turned herself around, so that Stacey could start her journey with the legs, again. And…. She was near enough fucking naked. She'd stripped, to just bra and pants. Her body, pretty much completely exposed, slightly tanned, smooth skinned… Maybe a half a pound on it more than perfect – but then that would have been Stacey’s own hang-up, and she knew she was maybe a bit strict on that one. Couldn’t really be used against… Danni’s figure was dead on, if truth be told, same as her skin-tone, and… Jeeze, what a special combination of flesh pigmentation, and complexions … not the kind of thing you'd think of walking on, without a second thought. Wasn't like Danni was some free newspaper, down on a tube train floor, just a messy nuisance to have to trample all over, to get into work?

Not the same deal, and never would be.

Stacey put down the saucer. Wasn't sure on that bit, but went for it. Poured a bit of wine in, and topped up her own glass. Pushed the saucer towards Danni a bit, with the toe of her shoe. The put down the bottle, picked up the glass, took a sip.

‘Some for you, too.’ She said. Poking at the wine in the saucer again, with the same toe of the same shoe. But then she left that, for a bit. Moved closer, squeezing herself in between Danni’s legs, till she’d forced one foot pretty much in between Danni's knees. Lifted the other foot, touched it onto the front of those knickers - just the front of the shoe, at first, which was probably still a bit wet, from the wine. But then she pressed down harder with her heel - a bit more, and a bit more, till she was digging into the bare flash. The knickers didn’t quite reach to where the metal tip was starting to do its stuff: at the very top, of Danni’s thigh. Stacey kept the pressure on, for maybe a minute or two, then twisted her foot, just the slightest bit. The knickers rucked up, and Danni flinched. Stacey held herself in the new position for a moment or two, wondering whether to go for it, now. Get right up, shoes still on? She looked at Danni, who seemed for all the world like she was bracing herself, and all the messages from her eyes were… Green lights – or amber, at the very least. Sure as hell not red, anyway. She was actually..?

Stacey could feel herself, smiling. And nearly went with the first impulse. But she held off. Took a sip of wine, lifted the shoe off of its resting place. Stood there, looking at what she’d already done. A little red nick, from that heel, right by the lacy black hem. The first blemish.

‘That’s…’ she started. ‘Not for these,’ she said. ‘Sorry, but you’re going to have to lay there a bit more, while I…’

Stacey stepped right away from Danni for a moment, and scrabbled around for her bags, and stuff. It was all mostly flung under the bed, which was a pain. But… didn’t take that long, to find the things she wanted. And she collected them all together, including the extra special items, still in their box, to go back to the bathroom.

‘Won’t be so long, this time’ she promised. ‘So, have some wine. But… don’t move. Well, that is…. No more than you need to…’ If she was going to have a lick or two from the saucer, then…

Stacey wasn’t that long, doing the change. But long enough, to get it right. She laid one of Geoff’s towels, on the floor. And then she stepped on to it, started getting undressed.

All kinds of thoughts were going through her head, again, as she was getting the outfit sorted, getting everything so that it would feel just right. Like, about that first evening, with that T-shirt. Maybe, she was thinking, it hadn’t been as out of the ordinary as it had seemed. Okay, so the reasons she’d done what she did, that particular time, was because it had felt like she was being dared. But, truth was… it wasn’t like she wouldn’t have gone for it, plenty of other days, given something just lying there, inviting her to try it out for comfort, and with definite wind-up potential. She’d just never thought of it like that, at first. But actually, for as long as she could remember, she’d loved the feel of things, under her feet. Well, not squishy things, which were what wheels had been invented for – like her cousins had proved, time after time (or there was Wellingtons, if anybody was ever uncool enough) but most things - like pebbles, or sand, or sometimes even paper, or wood, or… there was something special about feeling the textures of them, and feeling the equivalent of her weight, pushing back, as Stacey’s feet pushed down… Though not every kind of thing would push back that much, and that had an appeal of its own. Like with those kids' teddy bears - the decent sized ones, that weren't really for kids at all. They’d never offered that much resistance, they just … kind of cosseted your toes, warm, fluffy. Stacey had never known what it was that drew her to those things quite to the extent of how it always happened, like magnets, but… they sure as hell could cause trouble, once you had one closing nicely round your foot - where you were pressing down hard into it - specially in shoes. But then, that was another part of it.

Because the shoes, they’d always added a whole new dimension. Most men had a thing for them - especially stilettos – no matter how much some sad fuckers pretended different. Couldn’t take their eyes off you, if you had a real smart pair, and... But then they didn’t always spend the whole of their time looking at the wearer: didn’t use all the energy, checking out the woman's legs, or her feet. Sure, that would occupy them plenty, drooling away. But… amazing how often you’d catch some guy, grabbing a determined peek to see what was pinned underneath. Woman, and high shoes. And men, and high shoes. Made more interesting, both ways, by all of those things that ended up laying around, to complete the flirtation. Stuff that couldn’t hold its own against a proper heel, if you got enough weight on it. No secret – even the floors themselves weren’t up to it, as often as not. And Stacey had always been able to feel it, the difference, when there was that little bit of extra give, underneath her, when she was stood on boards. Nice…. if maybe a bit of serious badness, in that particular activity… So, if she’d spotted that Tshirt, even on a perfectly usual day - she might well have detoured in its direction, just the same. And she’d have applied the rule that she’d always applied, if eyes got drawn to her feet, the way she ‘liked’… She always kept her speech to herself, in her head. Never said, it, but lived by it.

'Unless you ask, I’m going to pretend I don’t know. You want me to move, then you need to say so, and have the bottle to tell me why. And then maybe… but no promises. And if you want the shoes off, altogether? Well, then that’s going to mean some extra special pleading - and maybe I’ll still smile, and stay as I am, thank you. Love me, love my heels.' Which they didn’t, not always. With the plastic boats, and the CD covers, and the lino, and all the things…. And definitely the teddys, which had caused murders! Though that was more the girls, gave her grief, on those occasions…

Thing was, why should Stacey have needed to guess what is was, that people wanted. There were plenty of other things, that might have made folk look glum or mad, other than that they were watching their stuff get racked up with little dents, while some girl stood there, acting innocent. And if they weren't going to have the nerve to make their point... then they had it coming, almost as much as the ones that opened their mouths and actually moaned!

Fuck. Shoes, floors, horses, carrriages. What the fuck...?

Almost naked, now. Just bra and pants – but they were red, Stacey’s, compared to Danni’s black. Stepping into the skirt. No stockings. Wouldn’t always have gone for that look, could be a bit tarty, but… Felt good. Turned, quick look in the mirror. Nice. And nice mirror, too – for a bloke's place

Drifted, again. Five, two.

Stacey laughed, inside herself. Five, two. Shit, how had she forgotten that, this week, till now? Cos, that was how far it went back, and maybe more. Not just about Stacey liking to put her feet on things, but knowing how it wasn’t just her, that.... And her own mum and dad, the stars of the story. Yeah, mum was the same kind of girl, alright - always had been. Didn’t need to run any tests, to know that much. Men had come, with Jacqui’s feet in mind, Stacey was sure of it – even if they hadn’t been visited by them, in person. Which her dad had, for sure. Most nights, on the couch, even, although maybe not…. Certainly not while Stacey had watched, anyway. But this was something else, she’d remembered. Where, even now, mum would say to him, ‘Five, two, love?’ - and they’d be in bed, like fucking lightning, going at it like rabbits. Wasn't so very long ago, either, when Jacqui had got drunk enough to tell Stacey. To admit. What they’d meant, those numbers. From right at the start, before the family was even a twinkle… but only just before….

Another look in the mirror. Then pulling on the top. White, tight fitting, would come down past the top of the split-legged skirt, but not too low. Just right.. It messed her hair up a bit, getting it over her head, but a shake of the head and a bit of finger combing, and…

Tottenham five, Barcelona two. But not a real match, and not the kind of score people might have assumed. It'd been one of them stupid Subbuteo sets… and, the very first time Stacey’s dad had taken her mum home, properly late - both of them, so much younger, and him with a younger brother still – and with Jacqui dressed up, and boozed up. But he’d had his evil plan, for nooky, and… and he'd told her to go into one of the downstairs rooms, lights off, while he checked everyone was in bed – wanting to sneak her upstairs, to his bedroom.

Sex mad fucker. No different, even now.

So she walks in, no lights, kind of a carpet, but not a very plush one, felt like it might even be the tiled kind… and she staggers her way towards a what looks like a chair, to hold on to, cos she’s wearing her best shoes, and she’s wobbly on them… and then, without her knowing it, the carpet’s not just the tiles any more - but the first she gets to hear about it is, Crrrrackkkcrrunchh! Fuck! What the hell? But she can't see, so she keeps going, and then it’s all uneven again, under her foot, and the same sound: Crruchchcackkk! Shit! Stood still a moment, shocked, wondering what the fuck was...? But her balance, after the drinking… so she tried two more steps, couldn’t really help what she already felt sure was coming next, unless she’d wanted to wobble on the spot, and fall…. And one step out of two, the same thing: craaaackcrruncccch… Like she was in the middle of….? An Airfix battlefield, she’d thought. With a new invader, and a seriously unfair advantage in weaponry? Six Gins, and two four inch spikes. But she wasn’t taking them off, not knowing what she might have encountered, bare beet.

So she’d stopped still, again. Waiting to get used to the dark, the only thing she could think of. But managed to get a hand out to that chair thing, for balance, and… starting feeling around with her foot, curious. Soon felt something against the side of her shoe, and kind of toyed with it - but it didn’t seem to tip over, when she kicked at it… and it kind of rocked, when she managed to press on the top of it. So she’d pressed harder, pissed, not really thinking… and suddenly, there was another of them things had gone the same way as the first lot, maybe not quite as bad, but… she'd heard the snap of it, and it wasn’t so easy to find again, underfoot.

Then he finally came back down. Whispered to her to come, follow him. So she did… Saw the relative light of the hall, and just made for it.

And that was when the last three got crunched, two of them in one single step, that almost tipped her on her arse, and - for a second - even the sex mad wolf was almost stopped in his own tracks, just kind of, What the fuck? But he was too obsessed with his original mission, to think it through, what had been happening, and she wasn't about to say too much, not knowing any better than him what the she might just have ruined - and not wanting a scene. So they'd sneaked off up, and got caught up with... like, the gagged version of sex, where she had to be quiet as a little mouse, even during ...? Too drunk, after that, to remember, straight away. So, nobody realised, till the morning. But then Stacey's Grandad, Mike, had gone into her dad's room, - who’d thought he could be so cocky, with Jacqui having sneaked off at least an hour before, shoes in hand, still with neither of them remembering sod all about that bit of the night before, other than... .But then...

‘So who’d you bring back?
'No-one?'
‘Yeah, right. You wanna come downstairs, and answer me again?’

Not just the little men, so the story went. But the tell-tale imprints, drilled into the green of the pitch, all over – those undeniable little semicircles, that had survived the night a whole lot better than the players.... and they were what gave Jacqui away, rather than it being anyone else. No one in the house had anything they still wore, with that thin of a heel.

It was still the big joke, even at the wedding. Five, two – though no one had understood, apparently. And no-one had questioned the remark about Stacey's dad, having to buy Barcelona and Man U… Somehow, though, she’d come out of it smelling of roses. Cos, the younger brother’s allegiance had changed, from Spurs to Manchester. .. which must have made Stacey’s mum the first girl in the word, who’d actually gained a friend from stepping on a whole bunch of those fucking Subbuteo men . But then, they'd always loved Jacqui...

Nearly done, Shoes on, and they looked brill. Something of the Bette Davis image to them, rounded front, almost old-fashioned. But they were new, and hadn't been worn. Peep toe, nice heel, and not the tiniest bit of wear, anywhere, including, the shiny little horseshoe, good as new. Ready to roll. Neat, too, the towel. No chance of getting anything on the bottoms of these, from the bathroom, that didn’t ought to be there… fine, for blokes to go licking whatever the fuck… Piss, even. But this was…

Couldn’t have argued with Bette Davis, though – surely. Even Stacey might have considered it…. If ever there was a woman who could have called on whoever the fuck she liked, faced with a load of mud where she’d wanted to walk – a bunch of bodies, to have got down on the ground, helped her out, protected her feet…. Kirsten Dunst, definitely, would have been no better than she ought to have been, down with the rest of them, and…. Jaqui would probably have given in on that one, too. Loved Jezebel… would have worshipped that woman. Near enough did, already…

Talk about stars. The biggest, the brightest. Davis, no question. Other woman could only try and do what they could, to live up to that kind of act… but it was a duty, to try.

Looked in that mirror, on last time. Wasn’t perfect… the mirror, or the make up… but not bad, either. And, like before, bloke’s bathroom. So no lippy, and no full length. Not that Stacey had full length, either, in the bathroom, so... Last little adjustment, And, whilst getting the skirt straighter… which wasn’t really needed… a little stroke, with the hand, between her legs. Fuck. This wasn’t just… this was…. Sex.

Made her way out, into the hallway. Across the records. The first one, for the Virgin shoes, and then a couple more, to get to the bedroom door… Tap, tap…. The sounds, that Stacey had always wanted to make, as she’d walked, since she was old enough to remember. And now… Opened that door, went back in.

Still lying there, he employee. Stacey’s…. Little foot bitch. The girl who’d actually asked… well, now, she was going to get the wish, full on.

Stacey went exactly back to where she’d stood before. And then the same position, with her foot, but with the different shoe. The peep toes… and Stacey could peep at them, all right. The red nail varnish on them, against the black of Danni’s knickers, and framed by the uppers, with the kind of criss-cross buckle thing… it all looked fabulous.

‘Oh, fuck…!’ From down below, from… Danni. Like she thought she was actually about to have sex, herself, same as Stacey had been thinking... And that was all it took to spur it on, take it to the next stage. Not that anything extra was needed.

It had been the perfect choice, the split skirt. Made it easy, getting up. And then Stacey just stayed where she was, Queen of the castle, rocking a bit where the heels seemed ready to go as far as she was willing to chance it, with weight… and she could see the pain, on Danni’s face. But she could hear the message, too, kind of breathless, but still,

‘Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.!’

Stacey turned sideways, arse against the wall Looked down, to see how it was shaping up, the new stance. Still looked great, the shoes on the skin. And…. Where she’d just moved from, she’d left two clear as fuck purple tattoos, perfect horseshoes, to go with the scratch from earlier. That perfect tanned complexion, already… already getting seriously redecorated. No idea, how the boyfriend was going to be squared up, with what this would end up looking like… didn’t think Danni probably had much idea, either.

‘Enjoy the wine, did you?’ Where the saucer was empty, and the bottle not as full as it had been, either.

‘MMmmmm…’ Still kind of muffled, like Danni was having trouble even speaking.

‘Well then, I’ll get you some more, in a bit. You can drink it off of…. tell you what. Do you want to practise..?’

Stacey turned sideways, using just her arm against the wall for support. Moved a bit higher, one foot on Danni’s right breast, and then… pressed the other shoe gently against her lips. At first. Waited, to see.. Christ, the stiletto on the standing foot was going in real deep, just under the nipple… Stacey couldn’t even imagine the pain...

But Danni. Danni was still taking it, and she even laid a kiss on Stacey’s shoe. But then, it got to more than just kissing… it was maybe thirty seconds, before Stacey noticed where Danni’s hand had slid down to. But once she’d noticed…

It was on top of her knickers, at first, just gently rubbing where the little wet patch had been, from the wine. But once she knew Stacey had clocked it, and was cool with it… although she’d had a shock, at first…. Inside the hem, and down, Danni’s fingers going out of sight, rubbing herself. And then…

Maybe a minute later, it all went somewhere completely incredible.

‘Come on me? Please?’
What? How…?
‘I mean, if… if you want to come, if…. I don’t care if you imagine something else, your boyfriend, whatever… but…?’
‘What, while I’m..?’ standing on you? In these?
‘Yeeeeaa…. Yeah.’ Muffled, and pained, but. Yes.
‘But… I’ll rip you to bits… Dan? I mean, honestly, I’ll… thing is, it won’t be anything else, I’ll be thinking of…. It’ll be… this. And with me drinking, and once I start… I mean, whatever orgasm I had, it’d be scraped all across your tits, with cuts and… once I…. are you sure?’
‘MMMMmmmmm. Yeah, I’m…..’

Shit. Stacey hadn’t ever thought she’d get an offer to grind something under her feet, where the carnage she’d cause might feel like it was taking things too far…. No matter how much she was getting worked up by the idea of it…. …. But to do that, to another woman? It wasn't like this was some old tart, and not that Stacey had even… but…?

The worse thing Stacey thought she'd ever done, in her life, that was in any way similar - if she’d been on a lie detector, and had been forced to be straight – was going after pigeons, in the car. Worse, even, that anything she’d done so far this week, with Geoff. Cos she’d purposely tried her luck, with live ones, where she’d been fully prepared to actually.... almost every time she’d driven in or out of the road by the park, where people had been stood there, feeding them - or picnicking, drawing them flocking in…. But she’d never scored one, all the times she’d got close. She’d never had the acceleration needed, and none of them was ever slow enough, or fat enough. She’d known it could be done, because… sometimes, on the way along that bit of road, there were squashed messes, which at least she had the satisfaction of adding another set of tyre marks to… but….

As it happened, like with a lot of things, Jacqui had gone where Stacey had only dreamed. But she’d never meant to, and it had just dived out of nowhere… even though she’d laughed like fuck, and Stacey had enjoyed the sound of it, under her mum’s Mini…. But…

‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘We get the lights down, and have a bit more wine, and…. I think you’re fucking mad, mind. I mean, I’ll hurt you, I know I will. And…. Well, don’t say I didn’t tell you. And if I was you…. I’d have some more drink, or you going to wish you’d drunk more too, not long from now?’

Stacey touched herself, but with her hand on the top of the skirt, not underneath. She was going to go for it: the dampness, already, told her as much.

And, she knew it was bad on a whole lot of layers. Not just Danni, who was going to have to keep a few things secret from her partner. And, in fact, nothing would ever….

Don’t even think about it. Don’t. Now is now, and…

[doormat2002]

Oh, man , this is absolutely beautiful! The writing couldn't be better, the story is great - I'm gonna check the thread every five minutes looking for the next chapter. Thank you, Steel Etto!

[iceblock]

I really like your style Steel. Not just the usual story where the writer might only describe the secene, but rather takes you into the characters mind. I've noticed it a lot with your stories, thanks for the updates here mate.

[Steel Etto]

So much of life is like climbing mountains. Damned hard work. And then, just sometimes, you get to one of those places in your journey where the track makes a turn, and where you go round the edge of the fiftieth crag - not expecting anything so very different to the last forty-nine, suddenly to find: a view opens up in front of you, like you wouldn’t have believed. All the pain of the constant uphill battling fades into the memory – and, now, you can’t see why you were plodding so wearily and uncertainly, before; can't fathom why you weren’t running, whooping, all the way.

That was how it was, for Danni, in that bedroom, that night. After Stacey had come back, from the first time of walking out into the corridor. After the final serious panic had ended - where, for a while, it had still felt like maybe a terrible mistake could possibly have been made; that maybe the boss had disappeared off, embarrassed, not knowing how to say that the latest twist of events was seriously sick, and just wanting to get the hell away from the mess of it. Maybe even talking to the other two, disgustedly (wherever they were?) telling them…

She's a perv, a complete perv, I'm telling you. She even does it with,,,.

And then the door had opened, and she’d stood there. The star of the moment - looking like she and Danni were going down the same road, one hundred per cent. Like life had dealt Stacey every card she could ever have asked for, the past half hour, and then some. And that was all it had taken, for Danni to finally cross the line, to be certain – and to feel the same as Stacey looked.

It was a bit like when you first admit that you don't hate the other sex. When you stop saying, to anyone that will listen – including yourself – that you'll never kiss a boy. Never even go out with one. But then, finally, you give in, and you get to that stage of agreeing a date, and a place, and you're waiting for him to turn up... and, at last, you see his face, through the crowd, and the wait is over. The time has come, that you never dared to believe in - in case you really were the one girl in the world that no-one would ever fancy. But you're not. And the only difference? Well, with boys, you kind of knew, deep inside, that all your mates felt the same. With this, it was a bit more dodgy – which only served to give it an extra kick. An even huger adrenaline rush. This wasn’t straight. But it was great.

Next thing.... it all went right into overdrive. Go on. Go on. Please, go on, go on! They were the words, that kept going through Danni’s excited-to-hell mind, again and again, every time her thoughts, or Stacey’s ‘threatened’ actions, threw up a new idea, new thrill…. Like, when she’d been laid there (with one another woman’s left foot wedged between prone legs, and then the other foot had been lifted) and Danni had suddenly and surprisingly been goose- pimplingly worried that the shoes might come off, or that Stacey might not quite go through with….

Hadn’t seemed right, that Stacey of all people might be about to step somewhere where she’d be making a special point of stepping, but without her shoes. For an Essex girl, that would have been like going for it, naked. And it felt like it needed to be Danni, who’d stay the only naked one, completely exposed… So, despite that Danni had been unsure about the pain - and scared to hell about losing the clothes, and adding the heels, all in one go…. The minute it had looked to be about to happen, that script had just started racing away.

Go on. Go on, go on… just as you are. Go on, please, please..? Inside her head.

And then, fucking hell, it was the boss herself who'd actually gone and backed off. Of all people! All the fears, coming back for one last, last second or two. Until it had become clear, what Stacey was reaching out for, under that bed. But even then, more waiting… thoughts going wild – except, wild in a good way, in an exhilarating way. Cos, even things from the past, were suddenly seeming different now. Seeming better, seeming more in focus, more... breathtakingly Stace-ish.

Because she had that way with her. Always had - and Danni couldn't believe how long it had taken her to view her boss's attitude to others in such a completely different light. It was hard to actually watch it (or, had been) but, like… even the past few days, at those sales shows, where the more second rate exhibitors had pinned their posters up with cheap tape, like their biggest interest was in packing it back away... well, then sooner or later their exhibits had started falling to the floor, ahead of schedule… and who’d be always amongst the first of the crowd, to start treading on the casualties? Making the point. Or,

As they’d walked out onto the street, one evening, and the pavement cartoonists had knocked off for the night, leaving their designs to fend for themselves… who was it that had taken massive pleasure, in being able to walk unapologetically across the unprotected chalkings – even while most others from the event still skirted respectfully around, glaring at her reproachfully? Hard one for Danni, too, given she’d had to copy her boss, act ‘supportive’. So she’d had to try to make it look like it was nothing, like she could hack it in that kind of company, like she wasn’t at least trying not to scuff stuff, as she walked. But feeling such a bad bitch.

That was the deal, though. Amazing, it had take so long, to get to love it. Really, love it. The stunts she'd pulled, at other people's expenses.

Like, with that guy and his artwork, that he'd brought proudly and determinedly in to the office, hoping to compete for the ad campaign work. He’d known how much it would help, the right support. He'd waiting patiently for Stacey to look it over, wanting to get HIS stuff seen first, get a head start over his competitors. But the more he tried, with her … the more... till, finally, she took it off him. And she put it straight down, on the floor. In the corner, by her desk, where at first it was out of her way, but….

Left it there, a bit, faffing around with other stuff. And then… phone rang, and she answered it. And the look on that guy’s face. Cos, even when she started with the call, she’d moved a whole lot closer to his prized wares - even though she’d actually leaned, to pick the phone. But it wasn’t long, before she was stood there, feet right next to it, looking down at it, still chatting, and…. She'd started absent mindedly prodding at his stuff, with her heel. Not hard, and not exactly standing on it, but… not really acting like she was conscious of what it was, and just poking, poking. And he was fighting so hard, not to say anything, or upset her, especially when every now and again it looked like something worse could happen, and…. not too long at all, before the inevitable - when Stacey needed a notebook, and pen... While the guy was looking on, in shock and horror.

Back then, Danni had been praying it wouldn't go down that all too predictable road. She hadn't known where to put herself, when it did. But now, in her head... she wanted that split second, again, when she'd seen the dreaded move, about to take place. Because, with the new Danni… she'd have been proud of her boss, of her nerve, and... Go on, go on. Move right, move right…. Which was exactly what had happened. Stacey had moved right, so that she was actually standing on the pristine, glossy pages – both shoes, gouging their little craters. And when the guy couldn’t take it, and stepped forward, trying to…. She’d just shhhhshd him, and shooed him away, with a hand gesture. Hadn’t moved, and had known damned well what she was doing..

When Danni thought back on that, now. She so loved it. She loved that it was HER boss, who treated people that way, and who…. Seemed like she was about to accept Danni, as something special - , as maybe the one who could lay claim to being first on the list: top of the queue of admirers, the one above all others who'd be allowed to beg to be dismissed and mistreated, on a priority basis. And what a thing that would be: to have such an amazing shrew of a girl, untamed, more or less owning your next move...? It had taken so long to get here, and to admit that this was even the journey, but once the barrier was broken, once there was no obvious risk, with Stacey herself so tied in with it... both girls, in pretty much the same boat, if at different ends..? Everything was going crazy, big time. Like Danni could imagine the future, framed in memories of the past. She knew it wasn't all fantasy, what could happen… Every part of Stacey's life, the same.

Danni remembered the banking days. Petty cash. She remembered that run down old car park, the one Stacey always favoured… the bench, and the occasional litter of tramps, that collected by it. (Sometimes in groups, sometimes just the one regular.) She remembered the way the grass invaded the tarmac, the holes, the broken glass on the concrete alongside the old road, the yellow-striped turning area… the discarded cans, and food boxes. Most people used the multi-storey, specially women. But not Stacey. Reckoned it was easier, and cheaper, to park in the open.

It had taken ages for Danni to catch on there was more to it, than that. That little corner, where Stacey would always make the turn – either in a big arc, in the earlyish mornings, when there hardly any other cars at all. Or just swinging the car into the yellow boxed bit, and backing out, and down to her chosen space, when it was that bit busier.

Most time, she’d clip the edge of the grass… which wasn’t grass, because people like Stacey kept it turned to mud. And then there’d be clattering and crunching as she steered back onto the gravel, where that bit of the parking area was nothing, really, but a tip. And sometimes, if it was wet, then be snails, ants, and God knows what else, that seemed to collect in that turning area, suicidal… all kinds of lowlife which Danni hadn’t even realised was there, for ages, what with al the other stuff the wheels went over. And then….

Interrupted. By Stacey coming back, the second time. And she looked… unbelievable. From being nervous, Danni had gone to being impatient, almost lustful – but lusting after being treated like…. Like that poor old tramp, that day… Like that ad man. Like the chalk people…

She was soon back in exactly the same position, one foot squeezed between Danni’s legs. And her foot, back on Danni’s crotch, but with a new pair of shoes… fabulous, fabulous, shoes.

Go on, go on, go on….? Get up on me, please?

Hard to believe that something like this could be so thrilling: waiting, for another woman to tread on your almost completely bare body – with her being fully dressed, in her swanky high shoes, and slit skirt… big smile, nice style… and then, the moment itself, and the way she did it – she looked really good, really sexy, and then…… then came the pain. Even Stacey’s weight, for all the diets and exercises… in those shoes, with no protection for Danni’s skin….

Biting back the screams, and even the possibility of tears. Having to be brave, trying to distinguish what was panic, and what was real murderous agony. Because a part of it, once it was happening, was fear. Fear, that something would actually give way – physically, or emotionally. Both hard, in their ways. It seemed like the bones might actually snap, or the skin actually puncture – because the pressure in those two small areas under the heel-tips, in particular, was that intense. And it was just as intense a test, for the pride, for the ego, And Stacey, just standing there, admiring herself and her new position in life. Which, in fact, made the pain easier to handle. Made it worthwhile. And… if Geoff could handle it, then surely to God, Danni could?

And if only. If only the journey could have come straight to this point, without having to go through him first. Because one of the little fantasies, still running round in Danni’s head, was of how it would be the next time some other persons’ crap was under her boss’s feet, and Danni would be able to think to herself: she’s only standing on that, because right now she can’t stand on my face. It’s just a fill in, but the first choice would be….Me. Me, me, me. Go on, go on, go on….

AAAggghhhhh. Fuck, that hurt, the change of position. But, again, it was easier to take, seeing Stacey check the marks where she’d moved from, and smile approvingly. And then, it settled just a bit. Got just a tiny bit easier, for a while, until….

Stacey had her back to the wall. And when she let her weight lean into the position, better, then those heels… But still she looked…. Fucking fabulous. So much so, that Danni couldn’t resist…. Her hand began to slide down to where she could get some benefit from the sexiness of it. Some erotic pleasure, to go with the PAIN… A bit nervous, for when Stacey saw, about how that would look. But…

And, once that had been acknowledged, with no problems…. Well, then it just seemed like the boundaries were all crashing to hell, a world of… Go ons.

Go on. Come on me. Stand on me, and make yourself. Let my pain be your…. Go on, go fucking on. But, Danni knew, just wishing it wouldn’t be enough, on this one. She’d have to help. Again. Which was when she said it. Out loud. And Stacey.. well, she never said no. She only said…. Like she was actually a bit wary… that she was afraid of doing Danni’s body some real damage, with those shoes.

Which was a fair point, and one that Danni was still worrying about, herself. So a part of her was relieved, when Stacey got down for a moment, turned, sat on the bed, and reached out with her legs… turning her employee into a footrest, for a while, rather than a doormat. Which…. Surprisingly enough, was still pretty damned hard to take, once the heels had dug into their particular spots. And, despite that Stacey might have shown some worries about getting too worked up whilst standing on Danni… well, that didn’t equate into her suddenly caring a whole lot, on a general basis.

Not that Danni had ever thought….

Never, at any time. Now, before, whenever…

That stunt, with the grumpy old tramp, had been maybe one of the hardest of Stacey’s little raids into someone else's life, to be a part of. Not that he’d ever been anything but a drunken pain - and sometimes rude as hell to the kids who went skateboarding in that car park, swearing like crazy, but… thing with Stacey, it wasn’t just where she walked, or how she talked to people, or… it was, like how she lived her life,, and what she did to others – every day - along the way.

Waiting, all that time, sat in the car, for her to come back from the little arcade. And when she did, she had donuts. Stacey, with donuts? It was almost like she’d known what was going to happen next… or part of it. Couldn’t have planned it all, though, because… No way Stacey could have known when the van would be along, with the men emptying the ticket pay machines.

They'd had one bite each, from the donuts. Stacey still had her own in the wrapper, in her lap, chewing lazily at the bit in her mouth, whilst pulling out of her space - hadn't got to the bit, yet, about how she shouldn't be eating it – when she braked; stopped dead. And she waited, as the machine man emptied the furthest away meter, and then moved his van up to the closest one. Which meant… no way out, now. Not enough room, between the end of the bench, where the tramp was laid, almost asleep, and the newly positioned van – not without quite a bit of the car veering seriously onto the grass and stuff. And the emptying had taken maybe two minutes, at the meter before. So, looked like a good wait. Until...

Once the man was well occupied at his machine, no chance of him offering to go back and move obstructive vans, that was when Stacey started forward. Steered right, towards the area at the end of the bench, towards the concrete, towards… the old coat, the carefully propped plastic cider bottle, and… the remains of what looked like fish and chips, most probably from the bin, but… And Danni knew, as soon as the detour started, and her heart had gone to her mouth….

The car struggled for bite, at first, when it got to the wet grass part. The driver's side wheel spun, for a second or two. But then it reached the concrete - maybe a foot or so from the bench, and the old man’s head – which, at least, was high enough up out of the way. And just as well. Because Stacey just kept going. There was a bit of a bump, when the front of the car collided with the cider bottle, knocked it over - and the ride was uneven the whole time, even on Danni’s side, and then… a second or two later, though it seemed a lifetime: the front wheel was back on the tarmac, having gone over whatever it was going to go over… including his lunch. But, the back wheel…. Suddenly, there was this huge fucking popping sound, and like an explosion of what turned out to be the cider, which must have rolled back into a hole in the concrete – and got squashed under the tyre, going off like a firework-come-fountain, all over the bench, up into the air, spraying everywhere onto the dozing old git (who wasn’t dozing anymore, but was already trying to get himself stood up, and going mad). But, too late. She’d run the fucking lot over. His hat, his dinner, his drink, his whole day…

Christ, she could be such a bitch. And there she was, now, up on that bed, with her feet out in front of her, pinning Danni’s flesh with the heels of her shoes. Drinking wine. And not saying, yet, if she was going to play for keeps with the next part. But….

Odds were…!

And all of the times for her to come out with it, the next thing she was saying was,

'You know what. It’s funny, but, just these past few weeks, I’ve been talking to the directors about you. I mean, we were actually thinking of giving you a patch. I mean, you do well, and… you wouldn’t be on the same as me, but…. And I’d be keeping you at the same office. That was one of the things I was holding out for…. so….?’

'You serious?' Danni asked. Already feeling incredible, and struggling to get to grips with the idea of anything up to extra 10K a year or so, suddenly getting floated into the air - plus there’d be the extra responsibility…. But… Being told it, after…. Was Stacey saying that this wasn’t on the table, anymore? Was this another part of what she was capable of, to make someone suffer…? Needn’t have worried, though. That wasn’t the direction.
'Damned straight,' said Stacey. 'You got a problem with any of that? And hey, by the way, there’s no need to suddenly go changing your mind about admiring my feet, or my shoes - just because you think you've had a result with me. Cos, that's not how you got it. Which makes it a strange one, doesn’t it? But... if you're game...? You'd still have to keep it to yourself, for a bit, while we got the last bits signed up. Wasn't exactly... didn't exactly go to advert, but we can square that. Lynne's leaving. Moving on. So...How's that, for a fucking strange few days?'

Stacey moved her foot. The one that was just under Danni's chest. At first, she playfully prodded at a breast, through the bra. But then... she moved it higher, towards.....

Go on, go on, go on. Right on my face. Tell me you're promoting me, while you….Go for it!'

This time, it didn't need the added verbal request. It wasn't more than a few seconds later, she felt the sole of that shoe on her cheek. And then being slid, slowly, towards her lips. A surprise, next, when it was lifted back off – but only to be dipped into the wine saucer. And then it was back, wet and dripping.

'Have a little drink,' Stacey suggested. 'To celebrate. Before me - and these shoes....’

And she was enjoying it. To the full. She allowed Danni to see, to know for sure - deliberately moving her position, so that it was more or less on view, where Stacey’s hand was. Between her legs. Slowly stroking. Like she was going to start granting the wish, but still sitting, at first. But then, maybe, for the orgasm itself, she’d get to her feet…? Which Danni had to admit, would be a good way of compromising, on the pain, if the guessing was good.

Amazing. All round, amazing. The whole fucking world..! Danni knew her social history, and she knew how much things had changed… not just computers, not just Blackberrys. Not just house owning, or cars, or planes. But, in just a hundred years…

Back, only a century ago, you wouldn’t have had a female boss. Wouldn’t even have had a proper job, if you were a female yourself. And none of the stuffed-shirt men, back then, would have imagined this: to have a young woman from Essex, making decisions about your career – speculating about how far she might promote you – while she sipped wine, trod on your face, and…. masturbated.

Wonder what they might have made of it?

Brave New World. And fucking fantastic.

[kalkar]

wonderful! please write what happened to artwork in the office..

[Steel Etto]

It had been pretty quiet, for maybe five minutes. Angie didn’t have anything she wanted to add to what she’d said so far (which already felt like too much) and Geoff hadn’t been saying a whole lot, right from the start. He was still lying there, on the floor, under Angie’s feet, kissing her toes now and again. But it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like something special. Could have been any old crap, she was treading on. And anyone could have trodden on it, most likely. It felt like if Angie had hopped off the stool, and given her seat up to some other women…. Could have been a couple of those tarted up Jehovah’s Witnesses, even…? They tended to send ‘pretty’ young things out, these days, prepared to go to pretty much any lengths to get into people’s lives, and their houses. Probably wouldn’t have bothered them, a few records in their way – something to happily trample over, to get the conversion. Or to have the audience, captive….

A decision had been made. Finally. After all the hours of thinking it over, working out what was going on, coming to terms with it, trying to talk to him about it… when it came to it, and the silence had crept in, thoughts getting clearer… Angie had begun to realize, then, that this wasn’t enough. Half of what she’d done, through the evening, was in anger – not in fun. It might have been able to have been fun, if the wanker on the floor had approached it differently. But he hadn’t, and no matter how much she thought she ought… Angie couldn’t quite forgive.

She’d tried really hard with Geoff, too – not just tonight, but all along. Trying to be less fiery, less argumentative, more…. Normal. But, look where that had fucking got her? Not normal at all, and with some other bunch of women taking over her territory – with the territory itself doing not a fuck of a lot to protect itself. Without believing in fairies, the realities were obvious. He was a tart, for women’s feet. All that was left, was deciding on the way to end this, where Angie didn’t look any more of twat than she did already.

And the plan was coming together. Pretty much completed. It was a bit tough on him, maybe… but one thing Angie knew, was she still wanted to hurt him, and not just in ways he could jerk himself off over.

She kicked the sole of her foot into his face. ‘Can you get up, a second?’ she said. And she moved her feet off him, back on to the rest, on the stool.

‘Whaaa???’
Stupid, slow witted male cunt. Spoken to herself. Harnessing the anger, but using it, to drive the plan on. ‘Get up. You know, off the floor. If you can remember what that’s like?’ Trying not to give away, too much, that the rage was coming back. But enjoying the bit of edge, nonetheless. ‘And have a look…. Have a look in the freezer, maybe, first off… see if there’s anything in there, I can stand on?’
He was starting to move. But looking puzzled as hell. ‘The ….. freezer..?’
‘Yep, the fucking freezer. Don’t think I don’t know what you fill it with, Jamie fucking Oliver… and I need…. Just do it, eh?’

Angie was right. Not that much, by way of decent food. Some mince, some frozen peas… but three left, of a pack of 4 large pizzas. They’d do. In fact, they’d be… perfect.
‘Ok,’ she said. ‘You and me, we’re not staying here. You’re coming back to mine…. And don’t look at me like that - you’ll just have to stump up for a taxi. That is… you do want to come..? Might as well, cos you’re paying either way.’ Trying to look friendly, inviting, though. Because this bit, it had to go on Angie’s terms. She couldn’t just dump him now, and leave him in the house. Too late, for that. The other two… it would look weak. Where, if she took him with her… they’ve be kept guessing, till…. And so would he be. Guessing. Maybe even thinking he was going to get… what? The purple boots?

Know what. He just might. The last thing he ever would get, but… he just might. That ought to make the point, quite nicely. But, it wasn’t just going to be other women’s stuff, he’d be keeping. Angie had already decided what things she’d leave, of her own, unless..? And he could kiss away to his heart’s content, once she was out of his life, not needing the woman that apparently only accessorized them… those shoes, and the socks, too. Which was why…

He was kneeling, now. In front of the freezer, pizzas in hand, gormless.

‘Okay, now unwrap them. All three. And you can put them…. One here, by the stool, and one maybe a yard or so nearer the door, and the last one… another yard… maybe just less than a yard? You can manage that? And then you can phone the taxi’

Okay,’ he said. Still struggling. But looking like something was about to happen which he wasn’t totally against. Pizza-wise, at least. ‘And I’m… I’m coming with you?’
‘For sure,’ said Angie. Smiling. And getting a smile, back. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself. Yeah, well – just you wait, Henry Higgins. Just you wait.

It was maybe two or three minutes, everything being got ready. The pizzas, arranged nicely, rock hard little stepping stones, face up, wrappers off. That’s be a nice little thought for him, when he came to bake them…. Except….

It was almost like the last bit of proof that Angie would need. Because, if he wanted to show Angie he understood what she’d been saying…. But she knew, somehow, he’d missed the point then, would miss it now, and would go on missing it, forever.

‘It’s coming,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes, outside the front.’
‘You’d better got yourself ready, then?
And he nodded.’

Just a minute or so later, Angie dropped down from her perch. Onto the first of the pizzas, which looked like a four cheese. It was cold. Well, yeah, of course it fucking was. Felt good, though. Nice idea, that someone might still be eating it, even after…

Got both feet on it, pressed and rolled a bit, then went for the next one. While he watched. His eyes, wide, lit up.

‘You….. you, uuummmmm want your shoes?’
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘That’s the whole point. They’re staying. One sock’s soaked, anyway, and.. they’ll be tough, without socks. Maybe you can sort something out with those, when you…?’

And onto the next pizza. Same routine, One foot, then the other, then a little shuffle and foot roll, and then… they didn’t squash that much, but bits of them flaked off, and Angie hadn’t washed for a good few hours, so…

She passed him, and stood by the door. He was definitely a bit shaken, if keen. For once, the script was definitely Angie’s. And that felt good, finally – and helped with the anger, too. She stopped for a second or two, in the hall. Wondering, watching….

Bastard! Stupid fucking bastard. All he did, was fucking follow the feet. Out into the landing, watching the bare flesh on his precious fucking records. So she fucking kicked them to one side, ahead of each step, made sure walked on the proper floor, as she made her way to his door.

No problem, now, without the sand, without the glass.

It had hurt him, seeing her do that. She could see it, in his face – the disappointment. So she shot him another little smile, not wanting him to completely change his mind about the mindless following….

Not that she should have worried. Like a little puppy, at her heels – as she’d made her way, barefoot out of the kitchen. Opening the front door. And still he followed. Wasn’t long before they were both on the main landing, outside the flat. Him, softly closing the door.

Fucking wanker. His one, tiny, tiny chance, to redeem himself. And he’d missed it. He could have carefully picked those pizzas back up, put them back in the boxes. Saved, for him only, from her only, as his very special treat. He could have cradled her socks, and shoes, and brought them along, for her – like he couldn’t be parted from them. And then, if he’d gone and followed her, like he was still following her… But what had he fucking done? Left his dinner there, defrosting, where by the time morning came, and the other two bitches walked in…. Well, it would be out of his control. And definitely out of Angie’s.

Stupid cunt.

Another smile, as sweet as could be managed. And then into the lift, hoping the taxi people weren’t lying.

[iceblock]

Am I the only one still reading this? If so, the rest of you poor buggers are missing out on a treat, Lol. And looks like its getting towards an end too. Looking forward to the conclusion Steel Etto, thanks for you everything you've written so far mate.

[abdel100]

I'm still reading. And it's still great!

[Sauur]

Its fucking awesome. I really REALLY love the girl/girl parts!

[iceblock]

I really REALLY love the girl/girl parts!
Dead set. Especially the recent parts written from Danni's perspective.

[Steel Etto]

Geoff had no idea what to expect, as he followed Angie out to the lift. He thought it ought to be on the good side of the available options list, though. And he was glad to be out of the house, with only the one young woman to contend with, for now. Much as it had crossed his mind, what a braver man could do, if all three of those girls could be harvested into the ‘right’ approach, full time … Geoff had learned, in the past two weeks, what the limits were to his own bravado. And how few limits there were, to theirs.

Fucking amazing arse, Angie’s. The shape of it, the way it moved as she walked… how the fuck had he never noticed so many of these things about her, before: complete mystery. He tried to summon at least some small amount of courage, to make a proper compliment of it.

‘You know what?’ he said. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’ve got…. A really nice bum?’
‘Yeah,’ said Angie. ‘As a matter of fact, they have. Quite a few, if you’re interested?’
She pressed the lift button. The lift was already where it needed to be – so the door opened straight away, and she was in… she walked to the back of it, facing the metal panels, still barefoot. ‘But you can kiss it, anyway. Just to make your point a bit more enthusiastically. Kneel, on the floor, and give it a proper kiss.’

The lift still hadn’t even closed. But she didn’t seem keen on waiting…. So Geoff did as he was asked. Knelt, on the floor, and ….kissed, through the seat of her trousers. There was something wet, that he could feel soaking his right knee… he hoped to God it wasn’t…? Should have checked, before kneeling… only a small puddle, more like spit than….

‘And you can lick my foot, after’ she said. ‘The bottom, where I bet it’s already got to be well dirty, the state of where you live. Jeeze, people round here..?’

She lifted her right leg, still facing the back of the lift, and it wasn’t too long before she was holding her foot to his face, rather than her arse. She was right… it was already grey going on black, the sole, with bits of Christ knows what sticking to the skin….dirt, squashed crumbs…?

Geoff had hardly even started, on his second task, when the door opened again: ground floor. And she did nothing, to suggest she wanted him to stop, even then. There could have been a neighbour, coming home, wanting to get in – even at this time, it was possible…. And then there were the cameras, in the lobby. But she was all for him going on, standing there, toes still touched against his tongue.

Finally, she turned. ‘On the floor, I think now?`' she said. 'The whole of you. In the doorway, so I can wipe my feet better, on the way out. I’ve always thought they could do with mats, these things - the shit that gets collected in them, in these cheap blocks.'

She smiled, like she was showing this was all just a joke – the jibes, not serious . And the smile was needed, or it could have been hard to tell. She was on fire, right now. And despite how public it was, Geoff was enjoying it, the style of her. Eyes, burning, and a wicked quality, even to each of those little smiles. She was pointing, where she wanted him. And, the form she was in, she was almost impossible to deny…. So Geoff followed the script, and laid himself – down on the deck, half in the lift, half out in the lobby. Fuck the CCTV. Probably some sleeping old git, not even watching… And she was up on him, in a flash. Treading on his cock, and then on his gut, where she stayed. Both feet. Doing as she’d promised, wiping. And…

Bitch. Pressing the button, and making the doors…. Squeeze his ribs, from each side, while she squashed him from above. And her, just laughing, treading on his face on her way out, with him still struggling, with it being his body that was keeping the doors open, and him having to struggle to…. She did nothing to help. Stood in the lobby, watching, enjoying her own wickedness.

Flouncing out, as soon as he was up, ready for the taxi. Raining out, but she wasn’t bothered by that, not even barefoot. Waste of time, the licking, the wiping… every time he’d done it, she just…. Stepped in the next lot of crap, straight after.

She stood, by a wall, where the bottom of her legs wouldn’t show, for the taxi driver. Smart cow. And the minute it was clear she was there, a set of headlights came on. It was there, already. A black cab, like one of he London ones. She waited for it to pull past, and then crossed the pavement. Got in. Confirmed the address. Cosied herself into the back, facing forward..

Geoff went to sit next to her – but she waved him to the other side, opposite, his back to the driver. And, immediately, her feet were back in assault mode. She planted both of them, firm, in his lap, and was deliberately rubbing his crotch… making his trousers wet and dirty, and making his cock…. Taking it all right back to where it had been not so log ago, but with Stacey doing the teasing, rather than Angie.

Fantastic, in the fantasy sense. Except…. It felt…? Not quite right, somehow – which was a mad feeling, and one which needed to be ignored, but….. The questions were still popping up. Like, from her not even knowing about any of this, just a few hours ago – well, not knowing about Geoff’s particular likings for the kinkier side of life, anyrate, even if she’d seemed to know plenty about the kinks in themselves… but, from not having a clue, and then not liking what she’d found… suddenly..? And those smiles. Always like the barbs were jokes, like the way she was treating him was in fun, but with a look in her eyes which…. Which Geoff could only describe as dangerously sexy. Definitely sexy, but definitely with something kind of threatening, attached… which there was no way of him understanding, or getting to the bottom of.

Christ, how many taxis and trains had Geoff sat in, opposite some nice looking bit of skirt, fantasizing about those people doing what Angie was actually doing, now… he’d even chosen seats next to where girls already had their feet up on the adjacent cushion, and the best he’d ever managed was a trainer getting moved to where it was pressing on the edge of his coat, and left a greyish print when the girl moved her foot and got off…. Oh, and one time on a bus when a secretary-type woman in wedges uncrossed her legs and accidentally brushed his trousers with the bottom of her shoe, just by his knee, and left a really shitty mark…. Which she'd apologised for, though not all that seriously, while her friend openly laughed.

And they were the best results he’d really had, in those kinds of situations. Other than that, it was just the odd photo, dropped onto a bus or a train floor, that took its chances… which was an approach that had yielded a limited return: the occasional pretty, high-heeled foot spending twenty minutes of its journey resting on the image of his mother's face, or on a school photo. But here, now…

It felt like the driver had to know. No reason he should have, in truth, but that was how it seemed. Like, it was so obvious to Geoff, what was happening, that… but nothing was said. And after a bit, it didn’t matter. Fifteen minutes was all it took, that late at night, splashing through the puddled streets. Just as well it was short, in a way, given how sore the tops of his thighs still were... and then they were there: out, on the kerb, with him thirty notes lighter. And her, away up the path, looking in her bag for the door key. On the wet path, still...

Nice little town house, Angie’s. She had it to herself, too, although she’d apparently had the odd girl to share. But, for now…. Private. Nice.

She opened the door. Walked in. Geoff thought he might have been asked to play doormat… but he wasn’t. Wasn’t even asked to lick her rainy-night toe prints off the hall floor. Not this time. So Geoff took off his shoes, making sure not to add to the mess, and followed her into the lounge.

‘Stay here.’ She told him. ‘I’ll be back’

And she was gone. Back off to the hallway, and then upstairs. Must have been almost ten minutes before she returned. But when she did…. Christ, it had been worth the wait, in a seriously scary kind of way.

She’d kept the trousers, but had changed her top. Red, the new one, tight to her figure but open round her boobs, showing them off…. Looked like she’d added a bit of make-up, and messed with her hair, tidied it a bit. She had two purple boots, and two silver shoes, cradled in her arms – which she laid on the floor, by the couch. And then she sank back into the cushions, and put her legs up… and, on her feet…. The most fucking amazing strappy high-heeled sandals. Geoff had never imagined, for one moment, she’d have owned anything like those, let alone that she might actually wear them.

‘Nice aren’t they’, she said. Seeing damned well what had taken his interest, above everything else in the new look – those shoes, with the heels sinking into the softness of the couch, where she was laid right along it, like some model in a photo shoot, with her feet looking… fucking fantastic. Which felt a bit crap, it being so obvious, when there was more to how she looked, than just…. Evening shoes.

‘I’m going out, Wednesday,’ she went on. ‘With some of the guys from work. And I was going to wear these. Haven’t worn them that often, but even so… I thought you might like to lick them over, for me, before…? I mean, just imagine how good it would feel, when I got in the cab, knowing how much care you’d taken… I could even tell them? If you wanted? Let the guys know, how they’d got to be so shiny? Maybe they’d be jealous of you?’ she added - though not like it had been meant to be totally convincing.

She laughed, seeing Geoff’s panic. Mixed in with his anxiety, and his disappointment. He had no idea about…. Any of this? He’d never thought of Angie with other blokes, especially dressed like…. And certainly not blokes that she might….. Like, maybe it could have been one of these particular guys, who’d complimented her arse? Sure as hell was likely to be, if she got in a cab looking like…. ‘Okay, okay’ she said. ‘I was only joking. About telling them, that is. But…. Seriously. I’d love it. In fact….’

In fact, what? Shit this was hard, already. She’d turned into a completely different woman, overnight. One that Geoff didn’t know about, or understand, and who seemed to have been visited by the Foot-fairy Godmother, but with all the risks (not quite) hidden somewhere, that were usually associated with that kind of spell…. He managed a kind of inquisitive grunt. But that seemed to be enough, for now. She seemed quite happy to carry on with her own thoughts, without needing a whole lot of input.

‘Okay’ she said. ‘This is the deal, I reckon. You like shoes, right? And don’t go saying you don’t, after all this. And you like the idea of…. Oh, I don’t know, but if I were to put my foot on your cock, now, wearing these….?’ (Fuck she was so right. So right. No matter how much the embarrassment and humiliation still invaded, the cock-throbbing truth of what she was saying was crystal clear.) ‘Or even,’ she went on, ‘on… something you like, something you care about… would that be about the strength of it? You like it, when stuff gets trodden on… if it’s you, or if…. Makes you horny, right?’

Another grunt. And a slightly ashamed nod.

‘So, right now, I guess…? Well, here’s how I picture it. I figured you could do a little show for me. For both of us, even, if you can drop the take-it-or-leave-it act, and look a bit like you actually want what we both know you’re wanting? See, look, I brought three pairs of shoes... and, know what, we could see which one made you hardest, and then I’d choose a pair, and you could wank on them, just for the crack.’ (She stared right at him, with him feeling like he was open mouthed, amazed by how matter of fact she’d just said it. How loud, how clear, in the stillness of the night. No confusion, no ummms and ahhhs…) ‘You ought to fucking love that, be fair. While I lie here and watch. You could lick them all clean, including…. Including the spunky ones, once you’d decorated them. And I could take some photos…. (She must have reacted to Geoff's face, at that point, because she pulled back, just a touch..) 'Well, okay, maybe no photos, either. But…. I’d like to see it. I mean, as far as I know, I’ve never had a guy in my flat before, fucking my shoes. Well, two pairs are mine, and… you know where the others came from I guess. God, you know, if we chose those then it could be like, a little tribute... you know, like a kind of memorial…?

Geoff really thought she was joking, at first. The room they were, in, it was dead normal, like any of the other times he'd been in it. Carpet, sofa, a chair, flat screen telly, big bookcase… Jane Austen, George Eliot…. Couple of pictures, nice curtains…. And….

‘Seriously?’

Her face changed again, just for a second. Went harder. ‘You really need to ask?’ But then the smile came right back, like every other time those eyes had gone glary blazing, not just blazing in their own right… ‘Only thing is, who’d get to choose? Who’d get to judge which ones earned the spray job? You, or…. ‘Me’ she said. ‘I think it should be me.’ But let’s just sum up the finalists, again, before… here we have the smary tartys, for the night one the town. I bet they’re doing it for you, no problem. I bet all those little sperm are going mad for my toes, in those? But then we have the Louisa teasers… butterfly smushers, snail-gut collectors, papershop trashers…. Or then there’s these? She reached down, picked up one of the silver ballerina flats. Now these, I haven’t worn in maybe… years. See how dusty they’ve got? But on the bottoms. See where there kind of all blackish? Well, that’s what happens when you do out drinking on a lunchtime with your mates, when your… what, nineteen? And you end up drunk, and hopscotching on an ants nest. Know what, I’d almost forgotten about that, till tonight. We must have been maybe half an hour, jumping on the little fuckers, till the pavement was completely smeared, and so were…. These. Never really came right again, to be honest. But, maybe, the right kind of fluid..?'

She was lying there, like fucking Cleopatra, watching him. Lights on full, no place to hide, and still...

'Angie...?' And even as he spoke, he could tell how unsure his voice sounded, how shaky. And she was onto that, like a shot.

'Angie, what? Come on, boy. This is what you like isn't it? Not much point pretending anything else? So let's get it right out in the open, and stop messing about. You want to crawl round people's feet, like those fucking ants do, then there's plenty to be crawled round. Ask any old tramp. I'd have thought you'd have got on with it, given these two to get started with, instead of acting like.... I don't know, some scared little rabbit. I mean...?'

She was right. No question. But that didn't stop the nerves, didn't stop the embarrassment. Geoff still wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of being in someone's lounge, whipping out his cock, and wanking over his girlfriends’s ant-stained shoe, right in front of her. If it was really true, and if she'd really... And her, just reclining, apparently where she'd be enjoying the act of it... For fuck's sake though. If a girl who'd looked like Angie did now, and was dressed like she was dressed now, had got onto one of those trains where a couple of those photos had been ‘accidentally’ dropped on the floor... … he'd have done it then: he'd have rubbed himself, through his trousers, as the blood had starting racing - watching her come closer, looking for an empty seat, considering whether to head for the one with littered looking floor, where she’d have to tread on…. With him aching, praying, pleading… And if he'd have thought, in that situation, that he could ever get to this situation, with that same girl..? 'Yeah,' he admitted. 'I mean, yes. It is. What I like. But it’s till hard. And you’re incredible. I mean, really, incredible.'

'Well, that's better And are you sure you wouldn't let me take just one tiny picture?.Bet you'd like it, when you saw it?. And then we could just delete....? Go on, just one...? Or, are you still not playing, for real? All this trouble I've gone to, and...?'

'No, I'm playing,' Geoff said. Surprisingly firmly. 'And yeah, okay, one picture. I’d like that…. To see it. I'm sorry, it's just.... sounds weird, but... it's scary. I don't really do pictures, specially... But did you really...? I mean, is that true, why the bottom of the shoe is all…? I mean...?'
'The hopscotch?'
Geoff nodded.
'Damned straight. I mean, we were pretty well gone, and we had to use felt pen, where we had no chalk. But..... I don't know, we were just walking along, and suddenly there was busy, busy things, crawling everywhere, on the stones, and... thing is, people say ants are supposed to be bright. But all these ones seemed to want to do was get as many of themselves as possible as squashed as possible – literally running under our feet, as we walked. Seemed mean of us, to have let them down. I mean, there was four of us, and we turned the whole path dark grey, about two yards of it. So, yeah.... why, do you want to start with those?'

Geoff knew exactly where he really wanted to start. And he was sure enough that she knew, too. But she seemed pretty determined to make the choices. She threw him the two silver shoes, stood up for a moment, and walked over to the telly. Picked up... the camera. Went back, to the sofa.

'On your knees is best, I think' she said. And then just.... start with a kiss, maybe. And then you can lick them a bit, tell me what they taste like. And then we'll decide if...?'

Geoff felt shaky. He could feel himself, butterflies in his gut. Got to his knees, though, like she'd asked. Took the shoe in his hands. Looked at it, then... raised it to is lips ..

'Like you mean it,' she said. Camera at the ready. And Geoff knew, as he prepared himself to make his kiss – this wasn't going to be just one picture. As he put his lips to that grey/black, messed up sole, he could hear her laugh, and hear the click, click, click , of her taking advantage. A mile, where he'd agreed an inch. 'Oh, fuck, she said. 'That looks good. I mean, really good. Gotta be fair. I mean, I really, really like it. Keep going, keep going. Like I said, like you mean it.'

* * *

Stupid bastard.

[Steel Etto]

Stacey was feeling relaxed, and enjoying the ‘ride’. There was a couple of things that needed to be sorted out, before she took up Danni’s maddest suggestion yet – like losing the lights, for a start off, and maybe even losing the shoes, for a bit, but… on the whole, it was a satisfying way to spend a night, no question. She wondered, fleetingly, about what it would be like if it wasn’t Danni, down on the floor. If it was… that arrogant fucker, Roger, from accounts. Or one of the customers…. Or even, Jason. What was a partner for, if not to…. Give the young lady whatever she fancied..?

Stacey looked down, to where one of Danni’s hands was touching against her film-star shoe, almost like it was there as a protection, fingers kind of curled round the heel, like there was some way of stopping it really digging in, if Stacey went out of her way to dig. A little pull back of the foot, and…. The shoe caught, on those fingers, and the foot started to pull out. ‘Just let it come off, a minute’ Stacey said. ‘You can hold it, for me… I just need to…’

One off, and then the other. Stacey took a big swig of wine, topped up the glass, and tucked it where she wasn’t completely certain to knock it over, once it was darker. Topped up the saucer, and moved that, too. ‘Can you hold the other one for me, too?’ she asked Danni. ‘Then, in a bit, you’ll be able to help me get them back on?’

Stood up, walked over by the door, flicked the switch, and…. Pitch black. Turned, to go back to the bed, feeling along the wall, at first. Kicked something, on the floor, which had to be some bit of Danni. Climbed up onto her, not knowing exactly which bit of her… stood still, a moment, then turned to face away from the wall, reached out with one foot, for the carpet, hand still on the wall, for balance. Got down, slowly, and turned. Felt for the bed, found it, and sat down again. Put her feet back on the body, in front of her. Prodded around a bit, started to get a feel for it: found the bra, the knickers. Pushed her toes in under the elastic, next to Danni’s gently stroking hand. Move her own hand, down the front of her own knickers. Much better, without the glare.

Could feel the public hair, against her toes. Stroked it a bit, and then pulled the foot back out… let it rest on what felt like the flat of the stomach, while the other foot…. Knocked against Danni’s other hand, and the shoes, whilst trying to search out the lips…. Or, maybe… maybe that’s where the shoes were…? By Danni’s face?.

One foot on the stomach, one on what felt like the neck, now. Stroking, stroking, working the fingers round all the right spots…. Imagining, was so much easier now. This could be Jason’s face, her foot was almost touching. Could be smarmy Robert’s. Could be…. One person after another, drifted through Stacey’s mind. The pleasure, increasing, stroke by stroke. The waves, growing, the orgasm…

Eyes a little more accustomed, once Stacey stood up, got ready for…. One foot on the tits, and…. up. Turned, arse to the wall, feeling really steady, still stroking.

‘Can you feel where my feet are?’ she asked. Like there was any possibility the answer might be no.

* * *
Danni could feel, all right. It was even better, this, in some ways, in the dark. All there was, was just the once sense. Totally tactile. Heavy, hard, rough…. Where Stacey had no proper idea where she was treading, anymore, even when the black went to dark grey. Danni reached over, touched her boss’s toes, to show she knew exactly where they were…. And then she groped round for the first shoe, which was by the side of her face, and lifted it up, so that it was beside Stacey’s foot…. Which she lifted, and guided…. Till the toes slipped in, and the pressure on the heel started to….

Harder and harder, the jabbing, and then the shoe rocked a bit, and finally… God, that had been hard. One foot shod, one foot still bare. And the shod one, already feeling harshly insistent, on the flesh, with that tiny metal tip. But the next one, that was going to be a whole lot harder.

Danni groped round for the second shoe, and touched it against Stacey’s other toes, same as before, showing where it was… she didn’t know if her boss was still stroking herself, as she went for the balancing act, but… the bare foot lifted from Danni’s skin, and….the one heel bit in, so much harder now, it felt like it was definitely going to pierce right through the skin. Every little wobble, from Stacey, was translated into flesh skewering agony. Seemed to go on like that, for ages….. though it was probably only a few seconds, and finally…. The other shoe was on, too.

‘Bet that fucking hurt,’ came Stacey’s voice, in the half-light.
‘Iiii…tttt….d.. id…’ came Danni’s already hopelessly pained, breathless reply.
‘So tell, me…’ said Stacey. ‘Tell me how much it hurt…?’
Danni could see the hand movements, just about, up above her. She could see Stacey occasionally twist, writhe, And what she couldn’t see, was being written into her flesh… by two tiny metal engravers. The whole of that body, each of its movements, each of the final parts of the building orgasm…. Being etched, into its human pedestal.
‘Iiii…t wa…..s.. so painful. It is…. But….. I want….’ Danni did her best, to try and say the things Stacey wanted, while the pain she was referring to actually all but stopped her speaking.
‘Oh my god. Oh my god….!’ From above.
And a sudden turn, so that Stacey was facing the wall, rather than away from it, and…. One heel stamped down into the material of Danni’s bra, and then… as the foot twisted, it remained caught in the material, ripped it… And before Danni could take that in, or prepare… the foot came back down, stamping even harder than before, but this time on an unprotected breast… another twist, that stung like fuck, and sure as hell drew blood, and made Danni cry out….
‘Oh my fucking God….
The shoes were kicked off again, finally, though too late for…. And now it was a bare foot, stamping down, this time on Danni’s face.
‘Fucking kiss it… Oh, God, Oh God. KISS IT, I SAID!’
Danni pursed her lips, and tried… but the foot twisted again, as she did, and…. She felt the blood in her mouth, almost immediately…, and still Stacey’s foot, grinding the lips into the teeth. Till, at last…. One last twist, and then it was still. Still, and still on Danni’s bleeding mouth….

Silence, for maybe twenty seconds. Scary, painful, exciting seconds, which Danni knew she was going to remember all her life. Then, finally, breathlessly, from up above.

‘I told you I’d hurt you.’

Them softly, gently, stepping down. Dropping onto the bed, laying there. While Danni swallowed, and took down… the first mouthful of her own blood.

[Steel Etto]

He looked kind of pathetic. Although it was fun, watching him lick at that dirty sole. Probably wasn’t so much bits of ants, any more, as general crap from the streets, but… it was true, what had happened. And it really had turned those shoes from more or less white to more or less black. And there might still have been…

The pathetic thing about him wasn’t so much what he was doing, as the way he was doing it. Like he didn’t believe in his own impulses. Would have been sexier, from Angie’s point of view, if he’d gone at it with her shoe like…. Like it was life or death, like he had to have it, kiss it, love it. Like, her shoe was…. The be all and end all.

Still made for a few good pictures, though. And once he had his pants down, and was kneeling, cock on show…. That looked cool, too, in a strange sort of way.

‘Rub the shoe on it.’

Shouldn’t have needed to tell him, really. But, at least he did as he was told. Wasn’t getting hard, though. Weird. You’d have thought that if someone loved girls’ shoes, and was rubbing one on his cock, there’d have been some kind of…

Angie’s plan kept changing. Overall, her aim stayed the same, but the detail…. Each time a new thing unfolded, it altered her idea of what to do next. She picked up one of the purple boots, turned it towards her. The treads…. They were still incredible, even after quite a bit of wear. Like, three rows of teeth, offset, on the main part of the boot, and then just one row on the heel. She remembered standing at a bus stop once, with this huge worm, and Louisa…. Direct hit, almost straight away, and then she was just standing on it, then she’d moved off and…. It hadn’t been squashed. Angie had never really seen how that could have happened, except… it made sense, when you looked at it. Most of it wouldn’t even have been touched, but…. It must have just got sliced into segments, like with a hard boiled egg, and cheesewire - where until you looked closely you might think it was still whole. Louisa must have turned that worm into neat little bits of itself, without even knowing, where those ‘teeth’...

Whatever. He wasn’t having the boots. Partly in case…. In case they made him hard, where Angie’s shoes…. Were only just starting to get him worked up, even with all the cock-rubbing…

‘Stand up a minute,’ she told him. And he did. ‘Back out… in the hall. I don’t like it, here. I want you…. No, you can leave those shoes. And leave the boots. Let’s see what….’

His little face lit up. Better. Wasn’t clear if it was the straps, or the heels, of the fact that Angie actually had her feet in them, but…. The sandals definitely looked like they might get more of a reaction. He seemed sure that they were where he was headed next, a crack at the main prize, and…

Might as well be right. Sort of.

Out, right out, almost back to the front door. Him, on his knees, struggling to move with his trousers not completely off. It was quite dirty, round there. Angie took his coat, from the peg, and then asked him for his trousers. He took them off, awkwardly, and then… was kneeling there, waiting, expectant.

* * *

She looked amazing. Geoff had something he wanted to ask, but…. It could wait. He watched her turn, and drop his coat to the floor, then step on it, walk over it, and drop the trousers, just behind. Walked over those, too, turned, took pictures, and then… off upstairs. ‘Don’t you go moving,’ she called out, over her shoulder. So he didn’t. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes, in the dirt of the hallway, where the entrance part was tiled, no mat… he could still see Angie’s footprints, although they’d mostly dried, into the pattern of her toes….

Finally, she was back. Coming downstairs, with a load of sheets of paper in her hand. God, the way she moved… why had she ever…

She stopped, posed, on the bottom step. And the slowly, deliberately, placed one of the sheets of paper on the floor, in front of her. The she stepped forward, put her foot on it…. Put her weight on it.

‘Ange?’
‘Mmmm?’
‘You said, in the car…. You couldn’t wear….?’
‘What…? Oh, shoes like these, you mean. Yeah, well, where do you ever take me, that…?’
‘Yeah, maybe… but, you said…?’
‘And what was I supposed to say. I thought I was meeting your sister, for a quiet drink. Nobody had told me everyone was going to be dressed to…. I mean, come on?’

Another smile. And another piece of paper, on the floor, and then another. Each time, placing it, then stepping on it, walking over it, dead slow. The fourth piece, on the trousers. And this time, he could see… they weren’t just pieces of paper, they were…. The pictures… This last one, a shot of his naked cock, against that silver shoe…

She smiled, stepped forward, right on it… aimed her heel, dead centre… sunk into it a bit, made a dent.

The next one, his face, his tongue… dropped onto his coat, and…. She stepped forward, twisted her toes on it… ground it under her foot…

‘Hand’s on cocks?’ she said. 'I want to see you come. Right.. right here, right in front of me, on the floor, in the dirt, at my feet…' and she stood there, with a picture of Goeff’s face under each of her shoes, now. Waiting, like she was dead serious…

Oh, God.

He couldn’t even get hard, at first – which was crazy, because… but then, with more embarrassed pulling, the blood woke up, and… maybe three minutes, four minutes, and….

‘Aim it down,’ she said. ‘Get yourself right down on the floor, if you need to, but I want you to make sure it ends up right here, right in front of me… not spraying all up the walls!’

Geoff did as he was asked, despite the awkwardness. He was ready, now, to shoot. Followed the instructions to the letter…. Perfect. Three nice sized white pools, and a few drips, right in front of her, maybe six inches from her toes….


She smiled. Stretched out her foot. Touched her shoe onto the first bit pool of his sperm…. All those seeds, splashed out, where she…. ground them into the dirt. Then the second pool, then the third. While he watched…. Waiting to be told to lick the shoes clean, afterwards. But the request didn’t come. In fact, the opposite.

‘Now I want you to leave it,’ she said. 'Right where it is. Everything, just how I’ve done it. If anything is touched, next time I come down… All except you, that is. The only thing I don’t want to find in my hallway, in the morning.., is you. Ok, babe?’

Another of those smiles, mixed with wickedness. The smiliest, and the wickedest, so far. She turned, walked back across the photos, leaving sticky spunky marks… one of the pages, even sticking to her shoe, for a moment, till she shook it off.

‘Night, babe,’ she said.

And her arse wiggled its way up the staircase, till it disappeared - and the shoes disappeared, soon after.

Shit. What had just happened, there?

[Sauur]

Great stuff!

[Steel Etto]

Angie spent the night wired. It had been a fantastic evening, once she’d finally sorted out the right plan, it had been… one of the best ways to get back at someone, and to relieve anger, that she’d ever tried. Could have done it all over again…. Except that would have kind of undone the effect.

Then again, she wasn’t convinced he was alert enough for the whole effect to have sunk in, yet. So, there was still more than a small chance that there’d be one more nail to hammer in… and, truth was, if only he had been more alert, faster… he might have bagged the lot. Girl friend, and semi-pro Dom (because, that was a bit what it had felt like, in that hallway. Not that Angie knew, for sure, what Doms got up to, with their customers - but her general idea of what men wanted from those types of women was…. Well, it had to be pretty high on the self-humiliation list, deciding to fork out serious cash for some whore to tread on your spunk – and in thigh high boots, most likely, that had probably been coated over and over again by different lots of sperm from half the perverts in England? Imagine, paying, to lick those?)

But people did, Angie was sure of it. Where what she would have liked, from Geoff, was knowing he’d never have done that – well, not with anyone else, and not for money. If he could just have adored Angie, and understood her, and known her enough to be aware of what shoes she owned, even what breakfast cereal she liked… and if, as part of the adoration, he’d have let her vent her anger in a way that turned him on, into the bargain…? She’d have bought it. There was even a bit inside her, that kind of hoped, given time, that he might get to see what was needed, come crawling back, flowers and…

Fuck, that would be something. Say, some guy - like Geoff - had come walking into the park, bright sunshine, with a huge bunch of roses, going for a full on grovelling session, and it was almost enough to do the job, but not quite, not yet…. Angie went to sleep, imagining it… taking them off him, and then dropping them, one by one, into the dried up earth by one of those benches, while people walked by, and… individually grinding them into the dusty-dirt under her feet, before walking away, leaving him to work out his next move…. If only.

* * *

For Geoff, sleep wasn’t so very easy, or inviting. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen anything much more stunning in his life, even recently, than Angie, in that hallway.... She’d just looked, and acted…. His one regret, that he’d already shot his load, and couldn’t go back, and do it again, knowing what she'd do with the end product…. But then, that wasn’t the only problem. What she’d said, as she’d gone upstairs? It had sounded like…. Like it was the end, even? Like she wanted him gone? But then, if that was true, why would she have said she wanted things left as they were? If he was meant to leave, did she really expect him not to take his trousers?

So he'd laid there, in the dirt – and waited, and worried. Where his face, and his cock, and his spunk had been trampled all over, by the perfect feet, perfect shoes, of…. A Goddess. But a Goddess without as much forgiveness as he’d been bargaining on, when things had looked sunnier. A fickle Goddess, who seemed to have said one thing, and decided to do another. A… woman.

So he'd stayed, hoping he was wrong about he messages she'd been giving. The most recent ones, at any rate. And hoping that if he wasn't wrong, then somehow it might be different, her latest choice, if he was still on that floor in the morning, showing willing.

* * *

Danni crept out to the bathroom, early hours of the morning, while Stacey slept – almost fully clothed – on the bed. A bit nervous, at first, in case the other two saw her… and with a blouse wrapped round her, kind of loose... but then, they didn’t seem to be anywhere around, anymore. Like they’d completely vanished?

Once she was behind a locked door, she peeled back the blouse, checked herself over. And she looked a fair old mess. She had a sharp graze on one breast, and red/purple heel marks – not only on both breasts, but on her stomach, her thighs.... and blood all round her mouth – mostly dried, now, but still plenty of it. It had been true as hell, what Stacey had warned. She'd done a lot of damage. But even despite the warning, and what had been an obvious expectation, based on experience... Danni hadn't bargained on her tits being stamped on, with high heels, or on having her face stamped on, even without them. Fucking odd, to actually feel grateful, for Stacey kicking the shoes off at the end, in order to stomp two perfectly good lips to a pulp with her bare feet – but gratitude was the only way to play it, specially as Danni had been seriously involved in persuading her boss to use those damned spikes on the bare skin, in the first place. And now she had a map on her body, as a result. The map of another woman’s orgasm. In cuts, bruises, and stamped all over pride. Hard to believe.

But it was maybe fifteen minutes, before any work started on cleaning herself up. It just looked.... so incredible, so.....

At around 4.30, Danni finally stopped running every little bit of it through her head, over an over. And drifted into a short but excited sleep.

* * *

When Angie woke in the morning, it was still early. And she got up, almost straight away. Went to the bathroom, tidied herself, did a quick make up job. Grabbed a nice pair of jeans, top, some socks.... and.... she felt good. Went downstairs, in just the socks, almost creeping...

He was still there. Christ! He'd hardly even moved, as far as she could tell. No sign of him having even gone to the toilet...? But she ignored him, first, rather than provocatively asking him what the big idea was - went into the lounge, almost pleased that he'd made the predicable mistake, and.... no question, about the next choice, or about what would happen once she'd made it....

The night before, Angie had shied clear of the purple boots. But then, why had she ever deprived Oxfam of them in the first place, if not..?. There had to be a reason, why she'd made them her own, and this had to be it..... and who gave a fuck if some other girl had worn them, had done things in them? That was what gave them their macabre fascination, but... it wouldn't be anyone else wearing them, today. It would be Angie, who felt high, and who already knew pretty much exactly how she would play this next scene out. The second - and last? - round of an unexpectedly prolonged wave goodbye performance. God, and so much more fun than sending a “fuck off!” text.

She pulled them on, First the left, then the right. Felt great, doing it. Felt like.. like they had their own power, their own electricity, but like Angie had her own power, added in... Then out, into the hallway. And straight into it. Kind of like she'd been rehearsing it, in her head, just in case. 'Thought you'd have been gone?' she opened with. But she was glad, mostly, that he wasn’t – yet.

His little face. 'Ange... I'm sorry. You told me.... I heard you , but I wasn't sure.... and I didn't want to come up. But, Ange. My trousers?'
'Yeah, and...?' So, she was standing on them. Or, part on the trousers, and part on one of the photos, to be pedantic. But, so what? Except, that wasn't what he'd meant, it turned out.
'You told me not to move anything?'
'Oh, yeah.' He had the tiniest of points, there. 'Yeah, well I didn't mean... I just meant, not to clean up... it was more.... more the mess on the floor, where I liked the idea... like, anyone could walk in, these next few days - delivery people, my mum, whoever - and your sticky little mess.... That was the bit I meant, really, more than...'

She stepped away from the trousers. She'd made a nice little lined pattern, already, on one side of the photo, and in the fabric of the ruffled up trousers, themselves. Amazing thing, but these boots... they were move destructive even, in some ways, than the heels.
'So, now you're clear, though? I'm going out, as it happens, but when I get back... seriously, if you're still on this floor, then? And me, with all these photos?'
'But you said...?'
'That I'd delete them? Yeah, well I lied.' Although, actually, she hadn't done. All that was left, now, was the paper copies. But that was for her to know, alone.
'No, but you said...? I mean, I thought we were okay? And it's like you're saying..?'
'Like! How is it, like! You know what, I'd have thought most blokes would have got the point, if they said they liked some girl's arse, and the closest his spunk got to that arse was being squished on the floor under her shoes? Don't you think..?'
God his face. again. Like, he was suddenly really, really struggling. Almost like he could burst into tears, the little boy in him, like all men had little boys in them.... and he said nothing, Just bowed his head, kind of nodded. Like he'd pretty much known, really, all along.
'So?' she said.
'So, I wish.... I wish I'd..... I'm so sorry...'
'Yeah, well, you're going to be sorrier, in a moment, cos I need to get to that door, so you need to get yourself nice and flat, on that floor.... cos guess what?'
'Angie...?'
He'd understood. He had to have. He looked broken, hurt, but.... fair play, he didn't spoil it. He moved, getting ready to lie down, his head....
'You'll need to open the door, first?' she said. 'Like, it opens inwards?'
He earned himself some points. Still played, even though he knew, now... as if even he believed there might still be a way, that he could turn it round. If he pleased her enough..?

Well, not today, babe. But... nice try.

It was still wet out. But Angie only had to get to the car. Should be fine, on that basis, without a huge coat. She watched him fart about with the door, open it, lay himself down, longways, in that hallway, ready for her....

Perfect. Found a nice spot on his red, sore thigh, and was about to step up, but then.... she changed her mind, and placed the boot square on his cock, still naked, where he hadn't even pulled his pants back up, properly! Pressed, and tested, to make sure she had the measure of how much 'give' there would be and then...

Full weight, up onto him, in complete dick-mangling glory. Actually using it, as a step.
Then on to his gut, and then.....

'Face up' she said. Feeling hotter, crueller, and more powerful with every second. And she knew....

As she waited for him to do as he was asked, and brace himself, she turned and looked at his cock. The little worm, that had taken her weight, so 'bravely' - same as that real worm, with Louisa's And.... not so very different, the result, and damned pleasing. Three red lines, equally distanced, right up the shaft, where those treads had cut right in, deep...

Turned again, stepped forward, onto the his lips and nose... twisted her foot, as she walked over, before dropping down, onto the front step, and then out onto the path.
There was a dull crunch, from underneath her. What! Couldn't have been... his nose? Too late, too....?

Turned, looked back at him. His lip was split, and bloody, but... there was still something under her, that..... had crunched, a second time, as she'd turned. She looked down, at the path. Christ. Would you believe it. Maybe six inches from her foot, a completely intact snail. A snail which she realised, straight away, would have had a mate – up until a few seconds earlier. A mate who...

Who turned out to be a squashed mess in the middle of Angie's slightly bloodied bootprint. Fuck, those boots.... they had to be possessed...? What were the chances...?

The temptation, with what to do next, was too much to resist. Edging forward, lifting that foot, and.... pressing it back onto the bloodied lips....

* * *

Geoff thought he’d experienced the full range of emotions, in his last fortnight or so of living. But Angie… she took him further. Further than any woman in any train, further than Miranda, then Danni, then Stacey even… the way he’d felt, as he’d laid himself in that hallway, knowing what she was proposing to do…. It was awesome. Awesome in how much it turned him on, and awesome in how much he couldn’t bear the idea of what it was going to lead to, once she’d… walked over him, on her way out of the door, and out of his life. He’d looked at her there, jeans tucked inside those purple boots, staring down at him, watching every move as he’d got himself ready…. Like she was surprised, but pleased, that even once he knew the deal – he still couldn’t wait, to play his part in her mentally sadistic final act. But nothing would have stopped him. Nothing. What a girl. And, one last chance…. And maybe, maybe, if he did exactly as she wanted..? Although he didn’t believe that, really. But...

Her foot on his leg, that was a good start. Painful as hell, on the soreness. Nice choice. But, when she’d moved, and… opted for his cock! That was a whole level of heaven higher. And the way she’d done it, a little tester with her weight, and then…. Right up, right on it, and those boots… they had serious treads on them, which bit right into his soft flesh - and she even let the bootheel sink down into his ball sack, before…. Moving on, turning, admiring the evidence of her journey, so far. Geoff couldn't see it, yet - but he knew it had to be there.

And before too long, it was his face, getting the treatment – which didn’t survive it. His lip got nailed to his teeth and…. He could feel the warm trickle, straight away... and wanted it to last forever.

Almost too soon, though, it was over, and she’d stepped down, out into the rainy morning. All that would be left, was memories. And that was when he heard… the loud crunching sound, where she’d landed on…? Something that wasn’t up to taking the weight of an adult woman, dropping down from the height of her ex-boyfriend’s face, on a doorstep - that was for sure. And again, as she turned to look. Quieter, but another crunching noise, like, whatever it was…. was still under one of those boots.

Geoff had felt the blood, flowing hard - might even have been his nose, as well as his lip? And he’d seen her retrace her moves, put one foot back on the step, and lift the other, till the sole of that the crunchy-sounding boot was…. Back on his lips, and….

Uuuuughhhhh, shit! Whatever the fuck she’d trodden on, it wasn’t nice. It smelt vile, it made his split lip sting like hell, and… even mixed with dirty rainwater, it had a sewer- like presence all of its own. He’d kind of caught sight of the colour of it, as the boot had passed over his eyes…. Streaks of red, which were probably his own blood, and browny-greeny…. Muck. All wedged up in the grooves, and half dripping, half oozing….

‘Tongue?’ she said. After one wipe of her foot on his lips, one on his cheek, and one – side to side - through his hair.

For the first time, that morning, part of Geoff wanted to deny her. But the other part of him…. The cock-driven part, where he could actually feel an erection getting going…. That part of him was going demented, with the thought of what she was suggesting…. He’d never, ever, come across anything on a shoe as foul as this. (Well, if you didn’t count shit, but actually, that was easy to spot, and most of the women whose shoes he’d licked had seemed to be quite good at avoidance, in that regard)… but this?

He closed his eyes, put out the tongue, and…. She wiped, and wiped, and… it didn’t get any better. Till, finally, she lifted her foot away.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘there’s more where that one came from. If you’re still peckish?’

He wasn’t. But…. When he eventually got to look, and see outside, on the path….

He’d never though in a million years he might get to see a hot looking woman deliberately step on a snail, just so’s she could squash its remains into his face. And he wasn’t sure, he ever would again, and was actually tempted… but he didn’t go for it. No matter how much...

‘Pity’ she said. ‘You know, he kind of reminds me of someone, just sat there, waiting for someone’s boot to come along and be the last thing he sees of them. Too bad, really..?’

And she turned, walked of down the path. Like, this was actually it. No crunch, this time…. But,. Something even crueller, in a way. Winged the second one, squashing part of its head with just the side of her left foot, so that what was left was a part squidged, leaking thing, oozing goo out onto the already wet path - with the perfect pattern of her sole, in the wetness, showing exactly which bit of her boot had done the damage....

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was right. Just the same, in so many ways…. Him, and it. Left there, to…. Ponder over the end of life, as they knew it. And her, in the car, and – a minute later, completely gone.

* * *
Angie knew straight away where she was going. One of the few places bound to be open, that early in the morning. Driving, through the slow drizzle, for fifteen minutes or so.

Might not even still be there?

But it was, and no problem parking, right outside. Got out, walked up to the door, The man had laid cardboard just inside the shop… same as he’d always done. And when Angie walked in… there were the papers, same as ever…

Her heart was thumping. She’d have no-one else to blame, today. But she was so charged up, still angry, still excited, still… still hoping, a bit, that Geoff wouldn’t go, that she wouldn’t go back to an empty flat… but for now. Stepped right over the cardboard, without even touching it… it was still quite dry, where a lot of people must have done the same, stepped right over his makeshift mat – although there weren’t even so terribly many prints inside the shop, either. So early…

Angie took a good look at the top shelf, but more for show than really checking. She wasn’t really focussing on the titles, more on… colours, images. Picked on a likely looking cover, and… did what she’d always wanted to be brave enough to do. Trampled over his brand new papers, in her wet-as-wet-could-be boots, to reach down….

Stepped back, and off, once she’d grabbed it - all innocent. Except: Fuck! Fucking Fiesta!

Hey, what the hell. And one thing… there was a blond tart, on the cover, looked a lot like… and would do good a good enough job of keeping the floor of the car dry, for today. Under the pedals, and the purple boots, for the journey home.

Mars bar, orange Lucozade, smile for the shop man, and… back out, to the rain. Sorted. Angie had no idea why she'd enjoyed that so much, despite ending up with a porn mag for her troubles, but... nice prints, she'd left, on those newspapers. She'd had a good look at them, walking out. It had felt…. Like, for once, it hadn’t been a trick, hadn’t been done through someone else…

Flipped the magazine open, thumbing through for pictures of the blond girl, the best possible option for a floor protector, but…. No sooner had she found the ideal image, centre spread, all tits and fanny… and already walking out into the road, towards the front of her car, fumbling with keys, and the magazine, and the other goodies…. She dropped it. Right there, on the wet tarmac. And almost before she could decide whether it was worth picking it up, there was a quick toot of a horn… and the decision was made. She left it there, stepped back, and watched - as a youngish woman in a pretty-damned-cool BMW pulled up alongside, ran her front wheel over the pages, tits and all, braked hard, slammed to a halt and… reversed back, and parked with her front tyre right on top of the already wet and well-crushed nude body… pinning it, in a dirty looking puddle - one that kind of splurged out from the gutter: a half shit, half water type of puddle, that would seep right into even the glossiest magazine, over time… especially with a ton of metal, pressing down on it, making sure!

Got out, checked how she was parked. Had to have seen that she’d stopped on a newish looking magazine - but whatever it was, being mushed by her dripping wet wheel, wasn’t an issue. Walked off into the newsagents – with two sharp popping sounds, where one heel after the other went right through the nowhere-near-sturdy-enough cardboard mat, and….

Angie sat outside for a minute, back in her car, picking at her treats. Wasn’t long before she was out again, the BMW girl…. Two more sharp pops, from under her feet, with the cardboard giving way with each step, twice again - making an easy four wins to nil in favour of her polished-shiny shoes, against the shop man’s already flattened box, and…. But not back to her car. She went further along the pavement, stopped outside the hairdresser’s, got out some keys. And let herself in.

Fascinated, for a moment, with the idea of a bit more self-treating, Angie got out, walked over, looked in the window. But even as she looked, she knew she wasn’t going to go for it. The girl was changing out of the heels, and into some nice looking sandals. Probably designer, but…. She’d still be treading all over the customers’ hair in them, once the scissors came out, just the same…. Just like any other working day. Which wasn’t the way it had to be, for Angie, today. And in truth, her whim had only come from quizzing herself about what she WAS going to spend the day doing, after the exhilaration of….

So she took a card, and the girl’s number, and drove off. Fairly sure, this time, that Geoff would have done as she told him, and gone. And feeling, already, that it was a pity.

So he was a twat. But, the past twenty four hours, a door had been opened for Angie. And once she’d seen behind it, she wasn’t sure she could ever completely let it close again.


* * *

Danni woke at least three times, before she gave up even trying to sleep. She got up - early - for her. Stacey was still sleeping, as far as she could tell. The bedroom door was shut, so....

Back to the bathroom, another look at herself. The lip was still a bit swollen, and the marks... they'd settled, slightly, but they were still clear enough; scratches, bruises, and a ton of little horseshoe-shaped reminders. Might be possible that anyone who didn't know how they’d got there, wouldn't guess, but… long shot, to expect everyone to be dumb enough not to have the slightest idea. Had a wash, did teeth, pulled on jeans. Went off towards the kitchen, looking for coffee – then saw the bits of glass on the floor, and went back for trainers.... because it wasn’t just glass, either.... it was a mess, in there.

Making coffee was quite a task, what with sand, bits of sticky stuff, sea shells and... pizzas, to try and avoid. Danni made a pretty decent attempt at not stepping on those, at least, for a while... but it wasn't long before she had her first disaster, moving back, right onto one. It stuck to her foot, for a bit, and even when most of it dropped off.... a lot of it stayed wedged on her trainer, so that each step afterwards.... big blobs of it, lodged in the pattern of the shoe, broke away and splodged onto whatever she’d been standing on last...

By the time she'd done herself toast, she'd had at least one hit on all three. And the results.... Like a film set, after a custard pie fight. The bread wasn't all that good, either, and she really wanted juice. Plus, part of her needed to brave the outside world, just to know she could. So…

Couldn't find a key, so had to leave the door on the latch. Went out, onto the landing. It had just been mopped. Tough shit. Although, it was a lot tougher shit on whoever had done the mopping than might have been normal, on this particular occasion. It wasn't just the normal shoe prints, got left in the wet.. there was even still some fair sized globs of pizza, all where she'd walked on whoever-it-was’s not-clean-any-more floor. And as she waited for the lift.... every time she moved, even the tiniest bit, more shit, where now her soles were wet, too.

Finally, outside, got to the shop. No funny looks, or anything. The woman just took the money, and... quite a good shop, too. Some nice enough stuff. Thought about getting something for Stacey – but, maybe later.

Found a kind of plant thing, back outside, and wiped her trainers on it. Which didn’t do the plant much good, and did get that much more pizza cleaned off, either. Then went back. And waited. Stacey wasn't in any hurry to wake.

* * *

Must have been mid morning, by the time Stacey decided she couldn't stay in bed any longer. Got up, made for the bathroom....

She'd thought she might have to be careful but, pretty soon, she realised there was only Danni, in the flat, apart from herself.

Got washed, got dressed. Jeans, the black court heels, no tights or socks. Blouse, little jacket. Now all that was needed was the packing. And then....

'I could do a Croissant,' she told Danni. First thing she said – waiting, to see if Danni would try a different topic. Christ, her lip…! And God only knew what the rest of her was like, under those clothes..? But...
'Actually, there's a shop,' Danni told her. 'I could get some..?'
'Maybe when we go, eh? Stacey suggested. 'Let's just get packed, and out?'
'Okay,' said Danni.. 'But... what are you looking at?'
'Your trainers,' said Stacey. They've got all...?'
'Shit! No... no, I mean, it isn't shit, it's.... I thought I'd wiped them, but...'
'Yeah, well. If you're planning on getting in my car, I don't know about wiping. Changing, might be more of an idea?'
Danni nodded, after inspecting her soles. She went off, got some nice looking wedges. 'It's a bit wet out,' she said, as she strapped them on. But, it's warm enough. And we'll be in the car.'
'Now you will,' agreed Stacey. 'And then you just need someone to.... well, I mean, they'd come up nice, with the right tongue?'
Just to see, what that teased out.
Danni looked at her boss, quizzical.
'Yeah,' said Stacey. 'Not sure myself, either. But.... whatever happens next... I wouldn't do different. I mean, you can't change the past, right?'

But she never said much else, just packed. Same as Danni. The flat was.... fucking trashed. Like one of those teenage parties, where the parents had just left people to it. Especially all round the kitchen and hallway area.... Danni's trainers had.... the patterns of them were everywhere, and lumps of squashed…. Cheese? Tomato? Pineapple, even..?

Still, not Danni's problem. And definitely not Stacey's.
'So, if I get the car sorted, you can pop into this shop you found? Get me something,,, some sparkling water, too?'
Danni nodded, smiled.
Good girl.

* * *

Geoff left Angie's maybe fifteen minutes after she did. He really wanted to stay, to plead his case, and maybe even... but he thought the best thing with Angie, right now, was to do what she said. And maybe.... So he followed her instructions almost to the letter, excepting that he picked up one of the pictures, and kept it, for.... his collection. It had everything, this one. Heel marks, a dirty great butterfly-boot print (cos he’d worked that one out, now, no problem) and a sticky area on the paper where Angie had trodden on it, on her way to bed, after she'd trampled on his come, treading it all over the hallway floor.

Long old haul, though, to get home. He didn't have enough, for a return taxi, and the nearest cashpoint was miles. So it was walking, and buses, and.... almost two hours, all told, before he got back to his own block of flats. Walked in though the back way, checking the car park wanting to make sure... he wasn't up for any more of Danni, or Stacey. Not in person, anyway, although.... he was kind of looking forward to how the flat would look, once they'd gone. The last rites....

But they hadn't. Gone. At least, not unless they'd walked, too. Which they wouldn't have... The Audi was still there, looking....

Weirdly tempting. Like, it couldn't be that long, before they'd go. He could go to a caff, or something, in the meantime, and.... but, an idea was creeping in, a new one: go to the caff first, but not eat out. Get a nice egg roll, or something, and bring it back.... the front wheels had been left almost on full lock. The treads on that dirt-specked tyre were on full display, just.... beckoning. Even after all Angie had said... one last time, surely, wouldn't make the difference? Geoff could imagine what an egg roll would look like, if... It would be well and truly mashed: dirty, imprinted.. The perfect breakfast, to end ....

He moved closer to the wheel. Felt the rubber. Rubbed his finger along it, looked at the dirt he'd collected on his skin. And then... looked round, made sure no one was looking, that he was well away from the cameras, and.... knelt, by the wheel arch, and..... kissed, the treads. And then licked them. He'd never, ever done this before, but.... it was Stacey's car, and Stacey's wheel, and it just kind of.... begged for it. Blond bitch. Had to hand it to her. She....

But what Geoff decided on next, was even more off the usual path. In fact, it was well perverted, even to is own mind. He undid his trousers, whipped his cock out of his pants, and.... wanked himself silly, until the sperm was dripping down those filthy treads... some nice blobs and patches, a few little drips, and.... sliming its way down the rubber, oozing determinedly into the grooves....

Looked fucking hot. In fact.... Geoff got right down on the ground. He laid himself by the car door, passenger side, with his legs and feet actually under the Audi, where anyone getting in could have used his gut as a step. He lay there, a moment, imagining it.... his eyes mostly focussed on his spunk, oozing down that radial, and... thinking what it would be like, if Stacey was actually getting into that car, now, and.... if he lay there, while she backed out.... and....

No way did he think, though.... But...

Voices. Suddenly, from nowhere. And not just any old voices. Those two very familiar voices: his guests, and the sound of suitcase wheels... Fuck, where the hell... he was going to get caught, no fucking question. No fucking idea, what do do, but make up some story.... he'd seen something loose, decided to fix it? He'd...?.

He heard the trunk lid go up, and could actually see their feet. Both in jeans, where he could just see the bottoms. One in black heels, one in sort of wedgy sandals. Easy enough, to guess which were which.
'Shit' he heard Stacey say. 'Forgot about that.' And a moment later, the remains of his guitar hit the deck. She kind of pushed the wreckage away from the car, with her foot, further out into the main car park.
'You okay with this?' he heard Danni say.
'That's what I said, wasn't it?' Stacey replied.
'Ok, well, I'll see you out front,' Danni said. And she walked off. Geoff hardly dared look, as she passed the gap between the Audi, and the car next to it. If she'd have turned her head.... but she didn't.

Stacey kept messing round with the packing. Her heels, clicking on the floor. Her feet, still all he could see... and what else would he have wanted to see? Especially, right now? Fuck, what the hell to do...? If he stood up, now....? But if he stayed where he was... right next to that fucking huge looking wheel, when she was almost certainly about to...!.

They didn't always look so massive, tyres. But this one, still visibly dripping with spunk.... if it actually rolled onto him...? Could he even withstand it..... and anyway, what would she do, when she realised something was blocking her way back? No way, could she not notice....

She moved back from the car, just a bit, and nudged the guitar with her toes, again. A bit further away, and a bit more to one side, and.... Oh, God: he could actually see her now, all of her, and when she turned....she'd see him, too. Almost for sure...

Geoff looked away from her, towards his recently christened tyre. He had no idea if he was about to get caught, big time, and no idea what to do if... but the chances weren't in his favour. Whatever happened next, it wasn't looking good.

* * *

As Stacey had finished sorting the cases, she'd had one last quick check round. No one looking, so the guitar.... could stay right where it was. No need to go looking for bins. It'd get crunched to bits pretty soon, anyway, given where she'd knocked it to, where any passing car would have had a job to miss....

So, time to go home. Keys in hand. But, just as she'd gone back to close up the boot, she'd caught a glimpse of something... no, not something, someone... someone deliberately looking in the other direction, and lying.... lying where...

Jesus Christ!

She saw enough, to know who it was, and to know where he was, but.... what she did next, was a terribly wicked feeling thing. She immediately looked away, and moved back to where the body on the ground was out of sight. She closed the trunk, she walked round to the driver's door, she opened it, got in, and....

Sat in her seat, legs still out of the car, for a moment. Thinking it over. Making sure that she wasn't about to make a huge mistake?

Thing was, no way would anyone have been able to prove what she just saw. Which meant she could pretend.... if she backed out, now, then..... well, it would be up to him, what happened, and no way would anyone else be to blame. And anyway, if she actually started the engine, surely to God. That'd be all the warning, he'd need, to have him scrambling clear?

Danni would have been cross, Stacey knew – when Stacey started that engine, when she put that car in reverse, but... fuck, and it was scary, even the first few inches... Hey, though: nothing, so far. He'd moved, he had to have..? Until....the car strained, almost stalled, and....that was no ordinary obstruction. That was...

Stacey had one last moment of thought, but didn't dwell to long on it. This wasn't something she'd be likely to get the chance to do, again. And.... foot down, giving it enough to get the wheel to climb up.... which it did, after a bit of a struggle, and which felt.... fucking bad as hell! Of all the things she'd ever done, even last night... For all she knew, his bones might not..? She'd understood enough about science to know that a heel was one thing, and a wheel was another... but... he was a biggish, strongish boy... and now, she was up on him, almost for sure, with all the weight of that car - perched, after a bit of a spin and slide.... just needed to finish going over him, and then drop back down, carefully, gently.... but that was when something else happened, completely unexpected.... OMG, OMG, OMG.

Another fucking car. Some sour faced bitch, in a Range Rover. Coming round completely the wrong way, against the arrows... a big crunch, as she ran her front wheel over the remains of the guitar, and then another, slower, crunch, from under the back wheel - and then she stopped completely, waiting for Stacey to pull out. Wanting the space. There were other spaces, but this bitch...

No way could Stacey pull out, knowing what she'd leave in the space, behind. No way could she do anything. Didn't dare turn the wheels, even. She could go back forward, but then.... that would look fucking weird, when the care suddenly lurched downwards.... so all she could do was open the window, wave the bitch away. Which all took... maybe not as long is is seemed, but.... Jesus fucking Christ! Not much got Stacey in a panic, but.... if she was on his gut, say, would he even be breathing..?.

* * *

Geoff couldn't believe it. Every time he thought everything had gone way past the furthest possible limits, something else.... He'd laid on that concrete, shaking, heart pounding, knowing he should roll clear, knowing that if he stayed where he was.... well, even death was a possibility. And why it was that the spunk on that tyre, and the thought of Stacey's feet on the pedals in those heels, should have made him actually choose to stay where he was - no proper explanation on offer. And when the engine had started... all that had done, was made the madness leap a notch. He watched that tyre begin rolling, saw it straighten, saw the spunk disappear out of view, squashed between the rubber and the concrete, and he felt the first touch... the pressure, hard, against the side of his groin. Even by then, he was unsure if he could have got free, even if he'd tried. He was pinned, pretty heavy... maybe there was just a tiny half second, when the pressure dropped again, just before the revs went up, but then, after that...... fuck, fuck, fuck. The wheel didn't spin that much, but a bit, and it ripped his trousers, no problem, and then clawed at his flesh, almost rolling his whole body....and giving him, like, the most terrible Chines burn it was possible to be given, and then... the bitch backed right up on to him, with her wheel rolling right onto his cock - and the weight of it, the crush.... felt like some barbaric form of contraception... the one consolation, she'd have rolled completely over it, before long... she'd drop back down any moment, and it would be over, before something actually caved in, or veins exploded, or..... the one extra worry, was realising that her moving back would leave him completely exposed, where Stacey would see him... if she looked forward. she'd see him.... And she'd be bound to look forward, wondering what... fucking amazing, she hadn't wondered already, what the hell was in her way....instead of just running it over, regardless...!

Except, that was the least of the problems, all of a sudden. A fucking huge crunching sound, from out where the guitar was, and all of a sudden... there was another car, passing. A second crunch, and it stopped. And so did Stacey. Still with her wheel right on his cock. Didn't go forward, didn't go back. Just fucking sat there. If there was any way Geoff could have let secretly her know, now, what she was parked on, he'd have told her, and damn the embarrassment... but the other car... could have been anyone. Security, the neighbour....

Maybe ten seconds, Geoff's cock was under that bitch's tyre. Before, at last, the other car moved, off, and Stacey back up, and dropped down off him.... carried on backing. And carried on, and... fucking incredibly, didn't once look forward, as far as Geoff could tell. One more crunch, from the bits of used-to-be-guitar wood, and... she was gone. With the squashed sperm still stuck to her wheel, going round and round, heading for the wet, rainy road...

Fucking hell. What a fucking end.

* * *

Stacey's heart was still thumping, as she drove towards the car park exit, on auto pilot. That had been seriously scary. She'd thought, for a few terrible seconds, that she was going to have to face up to some other woman, who'd have been pointing out.... and despite being ready to lie for England, it really would have been down to how stupid the woman was, and what Geoff's story had turned out to be. And even now....

Against her normal instincts, Stacey did one more circuit, slowly – waiting, for a minute or two, before she started on it. She found a little corner to hide the car away in, at first, and then edged her way round. No sign of him, from the far side, so she came right round to the space, slowed....he was gone. Nothing on that floor, empty. Like it had never happened. Wasn't dead then, at least. Or even hospitalised...

No bits of guitar, either. Like, the whole thing....

Turned the radio back up, took a deep breath, and headed for the exit. Turned the corner, found Danni waiting, impatient. For a moment, Stacey was wondering if that would have gone, too: the thick lip?. As if, the whole thing.... really had been a Wonderland adventure, with mad hatters, and....

But it was there all right. Thank God?

'Tell you what,' said Stacey. 'You drive?'

Danni did as she was asked, swapped seats. And Stacey relaxed, as they pulled away from the kerb. The tyres splashed their way through a puddle or two, till the car was properly out in the road, and then they were off, towards.....

A new day…

[kalkar]

well, the end was a little bit weak and I don't know, ordinary but thanks anyway...

[iceblock]

Thanks for writing this mate.

And the possibility of a spin-off story involving Stacy and Danni? How very enticing!

Now there's a relationship that can be explored further, love to read how this changes their working relationship. So many possibilites.

[abdel100]

Great story all-in-all.

Regarding the end, I felt like there was no resolution to the Angie side of the story. And the pizzas?