UnderToe
01-02-2005, 6:55 PM
I'm not exactly sure how many times I went in and out of the Majic Market on Ponce deLeon a couple miles east of Peachtree Street in Atlanta before I noticed how cute the cashier was. It was not a typical convenience store like a 7-11 but an old mom and pop store that had been converted into a chain store but the only change they made that I could see was the sign out front. A significant fact although I did not yet realize it.
She had brown hair stuffed under a Georgia Tech cap and wore white t-shirts and blue jeans. She had sparkley eyes that were full of mischief. I could not see her shoes but imagined that she wore tennis shoes. A suspicion I would confirm later.
After a while, we became friendly and I learned that she went to a local women's college while I was a student at Georgia Tech. We would make small talk and exchange interesting glances but, there always seemed to be a customer in line behind me that always short-circuited my intentions.
One evening, on a crisp October night - I walked down to my usual watering hole, the Euclid Avenue Yacht club. No ordinary Yacht Club mind you. Greeting you as you reach for the front door is a sign: "Sorry, we're open." Mounted over the bar was the driver's side door from a Georgia State Patrol car with at least seven bullet holes drilled through it. There were several Harleys out front. It wasn't a biker's bar but you could always find a biker there.
So, I belly up to the bar and order my usual black and tan and get about half way down and ... look who is tapping me on the shoulder but the cashier girl from the convenience store! She was with her boyfriend (or I thought he was her boyfriend) so we only exchanged "Hey, what are YOU doing here" greetings before she disappeared into the back.
I didn't think much of it but I was bummed to see that she was spoken for. I hung around for quite a while, saw some other regulars, shot some darts and was working my last call when out she came from the back, with boyfriend or whatever in tow and while he was focused on the hot chick in the booth, she leaned to me and whispered: "he's just a friend" winked and left.
I suppose a month or so passed by before I saw her again at the store. But, one Saturday around noon, I rode my bike to the store to get a paper to read the preview of that day's college football games. I was going to the Georgia Tech - Georgia game that November afternoon and wanted to read all about it. So I stroll into the store and look who's working! I bring my stuff to the counter and commence with the small talk. There is no one else in the store and my heart is beating the Georgia Tech fight song at 78 rpm! :-)
I save this line for when I'm ready to move in for the kill so I ask: "How long have you been working?"
She replies: "Ugh! Since 7 this morning!" she says with an eye roll.
Perfect! Next line: "Wow, your feet must be killing you."
Game. Set. Match. "Oh, they are!"
Now, back to the store layout. It was, as I said, an old mom and pop store. The counter was big and there was no angle from within the store to see behind it. So, having already staked it out, I offered:
"What you need, Cricket, is a long, slow foot massage." Her name was Cricket, I forgot to mention.
"I'd kill for one." She replied.
So, I went for the kill (she said kill, not me): "There's enough room behind that counter for me, isn't there?"
She hesitated before replying - "I'll be in big trouble if my boss knows you are back here."
"Fine, I'll be vewy, vewy quiet, then!"
She smiled and the deal was sealed.
I put my stuff back and wheeled around the counter and got under the counter. She sat on the chair that she never used because it was too low to the counter but it would do for now. A customer walked in and bought some cigarettes and a lottery ticket and left. I remained quiet and still. Once things settled down, I took one well-worn sneaker off the foot ring and untied the laces. I was sitting cross-legged under the spacious counter with plenty of head room. I slipped off her sneaker to reveal a well-shaped, high-arched slightly damp foot in a black stocking. I asked if I could talk and she said no one was there.
"You have very athletic feet." I said while exploring the shape with my fingers.
"Thanks. You have strong hands." She replied with some degree of anticipation.
I began to massage her foot inside her stocking. I smelled her foot and it was the beautiful scent of female feet. I think God designed this smell just to tease men. I told her I could do a much better job if I took her stocking off and she pointed her foot straight confirming my observation. I slipped off her stocking to reveal the foot of the woman I intended to worship. It was not a perfect foot but it was the foot that would have its way with me that afternoon. I was overcome by its feminine form and its intoxicating scent and lost track of time before the bell rang indicating a customer.
While she spoke to the customer, I decided to kiss the bottom of her foot. I slowly and quietly kissed her arch and her heel which necessarily meant that her foot was pressed firmly into my face. Without missing a beat, she caught on and moved her foot down such that her toes were on my lips. I licked under her salty toes and between them. She would move her foot back and forth to make sure I licked between all of her toes down to her pinky toe. All the while giving directions to the customer who was looking for the North Avenue Marta Station.
Clearly, this was a woman who knew how to enjoy a man who would offer his mouth as a pleasure palace for her feet and not be shy about how they smelled or looked. In short, my kind of girl!
I licked her foot for all it was worth and gave it a hell of a massage too. When there wasn't a drop of her sweat left on her foot and when no inch was left unlicked, I put her stocking back on and replaced her shoe and untied the laces of her other shoe. Thank you God for giving women two feet. Now, I get to enjoy the whole thing all over again!
And enjoy I did, I smothered her foot with kisses and licks and massages. I even (she didn't see this) put her stocking in my mouth while I was massaging her foot! I must have picked up her shoe and smelled the inside ten or fifteen times. At one point, I was actually massaging her heel with licks and she was loving every minute of it. I put her stocking back on and replaced her shoe and waited till she said that there were no customers in the store or parking lot before I emerged from under the counter.
"Man, you are GOOD!" she exclaimed.
"I aim to please." I humbly responded.
By then, a horde of tailgaters for the Tech-Georgia game filed in the store so it was time to go. I paid for my newspaper and kissed her hand as I left. She looked at me, winked and smiled.
Oh, and Tech beat Georgia that afternoon. Beat 'em good!
She had brown hair stuffed under a Georgia Tech cap and wore white t-shirts and blue jeans. She had sparkley eyes that were full of mischief. I could not see her shoes but imagined that she wore tennis shoes. A suspicion I would confirm later.
After a while, we became friendly and I learned that she went to a local women's college while I was a student at Georgia Tech. We would make small talk and exchange interesting glances but, there always seemed to be a customer in line behind me that always short-circuited my intentions.
One evening, on a crisp October night - I walked down to my usual watering hole, the Euclid Avenue Yacht club. No ordinary Yacht Club mind you. Greeting you as you reach for the front door is a sign: "Sorry, we're open." Mounted over the bar was the driver's side door from a Georgia State Patrol car with at least seven bullet holes drilled through it. There were several Harleys out front. It wasn't a biker's bar but you could always find a biker there.
So, I belly up to the bar and order my usual black and tan and get about half way down and ... look who is tapping me on the shoulder but the cashier girl from the convenience store! She was with her boyfriend (or I thought he was her boyfriend) so we only exchanged "Hey, what are YOU doing here" greetings before she disappeared into the back.
I didn't think much of it but I was bummed to see that she was spoken for. I hung around for quite a while, saw some other regulars, shot some darts and was working my last call when out she came from the back, with boyfriend or whatever in tow and while he was focused on the hot chick in the booth, she leaned to me and whispered: "he's just a friend" winked and left.
I suppose a month or so passed by before I saw her again at the store. But, one Saturday around noon, I rode my bike to the store to get a paper to read the preview of that day's college football games. I was going to the Georgia Tech - Georgia game that November afternoon and wanted to read all about it. So I stroll into the store and look who's working! I bring my stuff to the counter and commence with the small talk. There is no one else in the store and my heart is beating the Georgia Tech fight song at 78 rpm! :-)
I save this line for when I'm ready to move in for the kill so I ask: "How long have you been working?"
She replies: "Ugh! Since 7 this morning!" she says with an eye roll.
Perfect! Next line: "Wow, your feet must be killing you."
Game. Set. Match. "Oh, they are!"
Now, back to the store layout. It was, as I said, an old mom and pop store. The counter was big and there was no angle from within the store to see behind it. So, having already staked it out, I offered:
"What you need, Cricket, is a long, slow foot massage." Her name was Cricket, I forgot to mention.
"I'd kill for one." She replied.
So, I went for the kill (she said kill, not me): "There's enough room behind that counter for me, isn't there?"
She hesitated before replying - "I'll be in big trouble if my boss knows you are back here."
"Fine, I'll be vewy, vewy quiet, then!"
She smiled and the deal was sealed.
I put my stuff back and wheeled around the counter and got under the counter. She sat on the chair that she never used because it was too low to the counter but it would do for now. A customer walked in and bought some cigarettes and a lottery ticket and left. I remained quiet and still. Once things settled down, I took one well-worn sneaker off the foot ring and untied the laces. I was sitting cross-legged under the spacious counter with plenty of head room. I slipped off her sneaker to reveal a well-shaped, high-arched slightly damp foot in a black stocking. I asked if I could talk and she said no one was there.
"You have very athletic feet." I said while exploring the shape with my fingers.
"Thanks. You have strong hands." She replied with some degree of anticipation.
I began to massage her foot inside her stocking. I smelled her foot and it was the beautiful scent of female feet. I think God designed this smell just to tease men. I told her I could do a much better job if I took her stocking off and she pointed her foot straight confirming my observation. I slipped off her stocking to reveal the foot of the woman I intended to worship. It was not a perfect foot but it was the foot that would have its way with me that afternoon. I was overcome by its feminine form and its intoxicating scent and lost track of time before the bell rang indicating a customer.
While she spoke to the customer, I decided to kiss the bottom of her foot. I slowly and quietly kissed her arch and her heel which necessarily meant that her foot was pressed firmly into my face. Without missing a beat, she caught on and moved her foot down such that her toes were on my lips. I licked under her salty toes and between them. She would move her foot back and forth to make sure I licked between all of her toes down to her pinky toe. All the while giving directions to the customer who was looking for the North Avenue Marta Station.
Clearly, this was a woman who knew how to enjoy a man who would offer his mouth as a pleasure palace for her feet and not be shy about how they smelled or looked. In short, my kind of girl!
I licked her foot for all it was worth and gave it a hell of a massage too. When there wasn't a drop of her sweat left on her foot and when no inch was left unlicked, I put her stocking back on and replaced her shoe and untied the laces of her other shoe. Thank you God for giving women two feet. Now, I get to enjoy the whole thing all over again!
And enjoy I did, I smothered her foot with kisses and licks and massages. I even (she didn't see this) put her stocking in my mouth while I was massaging her foot! I must have picked up her shoe and smelled the inside ten or fifteen times. At one point, I was actually massaging her heel with licks and she was loving every minute of it. I put her stocking back on and replaced her shoe and waited till she said that there were no customers in the store or parking lot before I emerged from under the counter.
"Man, you are GOOD!" she exclaimed.
"I aim to please." I humbly responded.
By then, a horde of tailgaters for the Tech-Georgia game filed in the store so it was time to go. I paid for my newspaper and kissed her hand as I left. She looked at me, winked and smiled.
Oh, and Tech beat Georgia that afternoon. Beat 'em good!