by Ella Ford
“No, come on Jenny. Let me in on the joke,” I demanded, suddenly nervous and wondering what on earth Jenny was thinking.
“Well, it’s just,” she began, and I noticed her eyes flicking downwards beneath the table. “It’s just… I wondered why you were wearing those…And this maybe explains it.”
I shook my head and looked at her, confused and not sure what she meant. “You mean my shoes?”
“No, no. Your pantyhose. It’s a little warm for them, don’t you think?” she replied with a mischievous smirk.
“Oh!” I said, suddenly understanding what she meant. “They’re just part of the office dress code. Miss Winters asked me to wear them as an objective.”
Jenny smiled and patted my hand. “Oh, you poor little naive country mouse…” she said with a grin.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
Jenny leaned forward and looked around to ensure that nobody could hear us. “Have you not heard the rumors?” she whispered.
“N-no… what rumors?” I was feeling a little nervous now. What had I missed?
Jenny looked around again. “Well, I don’t know anything for certain, but here’s what I heard…”
I leaned forward until my face was inches from Jenny’s, keen not to miss a single word of this obviously juicy gossip.
“I’ve heard from Jones in IT that Joanne Winters has, well, certain unusual tastes,” she said, then sat back and took a bite of her sandwich, leaving me to ponder what she’d said. I looked at her with a perplexed stare, urging her to go onwards. “See, the company firewall tracks everything that every employee looks at. If it detects certain keywords, it triggers an alert and one of the IT nerds checks it out.”
“You mean like porn and terrorism and stuff?”
“Sure. Well, Jones said that a couple of months ago, they started to get alerts from Joanne Winters’ computer. It started completely out of the blue, but sure enough, every night after 5pm, they got hit after hit.”
I gasped, shocked that my boss would be into stuff like that. “What was she looking at?” I asked, desperate to know more, still not seeing how this related to me.
“Well, this is where is starts to get weird,” said Jenny. “She was looking at some real kinky stuff, but all of it had a theme: feet.”
“Feet? I’m not sure I…” I began, feeling an unmistakable sense of realization creeping up on me.
“Yeah, feet. Like foot fetish porn. Jones reckons that it was pretty hot stuff, but he’s a massive pervert himself - ask him to show you his own collection one day!” she said, and seemed to drift off into a private memory. “Anyway, lots of videos of women sucking each others’ toes, pictures of feet, heels, shoes… pantyhose,” she said, then sat back to study my reaction.
I gasped, suddenly aware of how naive I’d been. I was shocked - that Miss Winters was a lesbian and that she was into such weird stuff, but also that she apparently had designs on me. I felt humiliated and violated, objectified by someone who should have had my best interests at heart. My heart was hammering, the feeling of revulsion mixing with the growing awareness that I still had to get through my meeting that afternoon.
“I-I’m shocked…” I managed to say. “Why hasn’t she been fired? If the company knows what she’s up to?”
Jenny touched her hand to my upper arm and gently stroked me there. “Oh Monique, you simple, perfect butterfly! The only difference between Joanne Winters and all of the other managers in this filthy city is that Winters is into niche stuff! They’re not going to fire her for having appetites, and they certainly wouldn’t fire her for being a lesbian. This is the 21st century after all.” She paused and took a sip of her drink. “No, they’ll store it up, file it away, then roll it out in the future if she ever becomes a … problem.”
I was no longer listening to Jenny’s cynical rant. All I could think of was the creepy way that Miss Winters’ eyes had flicked over my body during that first review meeting, and what these revelations meant for my next meeting. But the next thing Jenny said dragged me back to the present and set my mind racing with nervous possibility.
“Monique, take my advice. If you want to make it big in this industry and get that all important job offer that you obviously crave, then use this opportunity. Hell, at least Winters is cute…”
Chapter 2
The afternoon passed by in a blur of half remembered conversation and paralyzed indecision. I returned to my desk after lunch and parked myself in front of my computer screen, barely aware of the activity around me.
What should I do? Did I need to tell someone in authority about Miss Winters and her strange desires? Did I need to file a harassment complaint? I shook my head in frustration - who would believe me? After all, what did I really know? My boss had asked me to dress in a particular way in an industry where image was everything, and I’d heard a rumor from a friend of a friend that she might, possibly, like to look at outlandish pornography. Ha! Her and the rest of the world, right?
I mean, what did I really think was going to happen? Did I think that Miss Winters was going to try to seduce me? How self-absorbed! Even if my review objective was related to her fetish, then it might just be the case that she liked to look at girls in pantyhose - completely harmless and no different from most workplace dress codes.
But there was something else, something barely registered but insistent and difficult to ignore. A feeling inside of nervous anticipation, trepidation mixed with excitement. For a simple country girl, I was definitely not prudish, despite my strict Christian upbringing. I’d come to the city to expand my horizons, to experience new things and to broaden my outlook. And part of that was a desire to grow sexually, to explore my needs and lusts, free from the confining straightjacket of small town life.
As I sat at my desk, desperately trying to slow down time with my mind, I dared to face the possibility that Miss Winters genuinely did have plans for me that were sordid and forbidden. Gradually, tentatively, I allowed the thought of sex with another woman to roll around in my mind, a tiny spark of an idea that found purchase and gathered pace until it became tangible and real.
With no small amount of surprise, I found myself not entirely resistant to the idea.
As four o’clock rolled around, I calmly stood from my desk, picked up my pad and pen, and walked out of large open plan office to the elevators. I felt like a condemned prisoner on the final march to the hangman’s gallows. Every step seemed glacial, a blissfully slow increment between my freedom and my destiny. But for all that I attempted to draw out this period, I soon found myself standing outside the office of Miss Joanne Winters and whatever lay within. I lifted my trembling hand and knocked smartly three times, hoping against hope that Miss Winters was out of the building, called away on some last minute errand.
“Come in please Monique,” came a cheery voice from within.
I took a deep breath, composed myself and pushed the door open. “G-good afternoon Miss Winters,” I said as I stepped into the room, pushing the door shut behind me.
Miss Winters looked up from her work and smiled at me warmly. “Let’s drop the formality shall we? Call me Joanne,” she said in precisely the same way that someone with innocent intentions would talk. There was no hint of lust or desire in her voice, and I began to think that I might have imagined the whole thing. Maybe Jenny was playing some elaborate prank on me, hazing the new girl. I made a mental note to scold her later!
“Take a seat Monique,” she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. “How was your week? Are you settling in?”
I was momentarily flustered by the mundane nature of her questions, disarmed by the absence of the predatory lesbian that I’d imagine in my mind. “I… I had a good week thank you Miss Win… Joanne. Everyone is being very helpful to me.”
“Good, excellent!” she beamed. “Let’s start by going over your objectives, to give me an idea of how you’re getting on.” Then she looked down at her paperwork and began rifling through the stack of
forms and reports.
I felt myself instantly relax. This was just going to be a normal review meeting! I’d been an idiot for thinking it was anything else. I sat back in the chair and crossed my legs, raising my right leg over my left. As I did so, the soft material of my pantyhose brushed together and made a gentle swishing sound.
Miss Winters’ eyes flicked up from her papers, glancing across the desk and lingering momentarily on my knees. Then, just as quickly, her gaze flashed back to desk before her, and the corner of her mouth raised up with an imperceptible smirk. It was subtle and easily missed, but my heightened senses found it difficult to ignore. Maybe this wasn’t the innocent meeting that I had hoped after all…
“Okay, let’s start with the office supply contract? Did you manage to talk to Sarah?” she asked me, returning to the business-like demeanor of previously.
“I… Yes, I talked to her briefly and spoke to the supplier,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “We’ve agreed that I’ll create the reports and settle the invoice, but Sarah will retain oversight for a few weeks at least.”
“That’s great Monique, I’m sure it will be a great relief to Sarah. Poor thing is always stressed, did you notice?” she asked, peering at me intently.
“Y-yes, she works very hard. I’m happy to help her out.”
“Okay, what’s next? Let me see,” she said, studying the review forms in front of her. “Ah yes, training in the HR system.”
As she talked, Miss Winters stood from her seat, picked up the form that she was reading from and walked around to the other side of the desk. Then she sat back on the ornate surface and pulled herself up to perch on the edge. For the first time, I realized that my boss was wearing pantyhose herself - sheer and black and impossibly smooth, with pristine black stiletto heels that were tall and precarious. With her sharp, black skirt suit and tight, white blouse she appeared formal and serious, and unfathomably attractive. As she settled back on the desk, she raised her right leg and crossed it over her left, mirroring the motion that I’d made minutes ago.
“Did you get a chance to speak to Jones?” she asked and I nodded nervously. “He’s quite a character, don’t you think?” She paused and waited for an answer, peering at me over the top of her reading glasses. I found myself thinking back to my conversation with Jenny, and wondered if Miss Winters knew that Jones could see the sites she was visiting.
“Yes Joanne, I spoke to him. He’s quite… a unique individual.”
“And how did the training go?” she asked distractedly, her attention seemingly held by the papers she clutched in her hand. Before I had a chance to answer, she sighed and shifted her body slightly, flexing her right foot up towards me so that her shoe slipped off her heel and hung from her toes. With no hint of self consciousness, she began to gently bounce the shoe by flexing her toes.
I watched on, transfixed by the dangling heel as it rocked back and forth. I could see her foot, wrapped in the thin material of the nylon hosiery. The shallow curve of her arch and the gentle bulge of her heel. I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch it, to brush my fingers over her warm sole.
I shook my head and blinked, dragging my eyes away from her dainty foot, then remembered that she’d asked me a question. “Y-yes Miss Winters, I mean Joanne. The training was very useful…” My heart was hammering in my chest and my mind was racing. I struggled to even remember what I was trained in. “I’ve got a few… uh… more sessions booked with Jones.”
Miss Winters looked up again and smiled at me, once again. “Excellent. Then I won’t keep you any longer. Do let me know if you have any questions or concerns,” she said with a friendly look.
What? Was that it? Was she really dismissing me? “I… Yes Joanne, I’ll be sure to… let you know,” then I stood from the chair and turned to leave, my racing mind unable to comprehend what was happening. She didn’t even mention my third objective!
As I stood, Miss Winters’ dangling shoe bounced one final time, an exaggerated flick that propelled it forwards slightly and caused it to slip off her toes to the floor below.
“Oops,” purred Miss Winters, “clumsy me.”
The room fell silent as we both gazed at the shoe and her stockinged foot. As I looked on, she stretched her toes, splaying them apart and stretching at the thin gauze of her black pantyhose. My heart skipped a beat.
Miss Winters looked up at me and bit on her lower lip demurely. “Would you be a darling and help me out here?” she asked, her voice dripping with a seductive quality that made the room seem very hot and very small.
“I…” I began, suddenly unsure about what to do, but remembering what Jenny said about life in the big city. “Of course, Joanne,” I finally replied and stepped back to the desk. As I reached the shoe, I squatted down on my haunches and reached for it, instantly aware of how much of my thigh was revealed as my modest skirt rode up my legs.
“I can see that you succeeded at your third objective Monique,” said Miss Winters and when I looked up, I found her gazing distantly at my pantyhose covered legs.
“Yes Miss Winters,” I replied nervously. Clutching the shoe in my hands I turned my body and fell forwards onto my knees, positioning myself in front of Miss Winters’ stockinged foot. As I did so, my boss stretched her foot out and pointed her toes at me, and I became overwhelmingly aware of her proximity. I stole a glance at her foot, studying her painted toes, muted treasures through the dark material of her nylon hose.
“Ah, it’s good to be out of those shoes,” said Miss Winters, flexing her toes and rotating her ankle. “Honestly, my feet ache after a hard day like today,” she continued expectantly.
I continued to stare at her dancing foot, weighing up my current position, Jenny’s words about how to get ahead in the city whirling in my mind. I thought of Jones and his snooping firewall, and the porn that Miss Winters is alleged to have viewed - unfamiliar scenes catering to unusual tastes. Girls sucking the toes of other girls, touching them, tasting them, enjoying the subtle thrills that this evidently brought. I thought about Miss Winters, pretty and accomplished, driven by her ambitions and her desires. Would it really be so bad to surrender to her?
Despite knowing that I should stand up and get the hell out of that office, what I said next shocked me deeply. “M-may I r-rub your feet Miss Winters?” I stammered, my quivering voice barely a whisper.
Miss Winters gazed down at me and a lurid smile spread across her face. “Oh Monique, would you? That would be simply excellent!” she said with a mock enthusiasm that barely concealed a deeper lust.
I set the shoe down beside me, took a deep breath and reached forward, wrapping my hands around her raised foot. She was warm to the touch, but not damp and gross like I was expecting. Her nylon pantyhose hose were soft and slippery, causing a pleasant friction under my fingertips that encouraged further contact. I lifted her leg up and held it before my face, studying the velvety texture of her sole and the cute, wrinkled skin of her arch.
As I gazed at her, Miss Winters wiggled her toes, a pulsing wave of motion that stretched her hose pleasantly and set my heart beating quickly.
I found myself becoming overwhelmed by the whole situation. Kneeling at the feet of this powerful woman, holding her tired foot in my hand. I breathed deeply, attempting to compose myself, and my nose was filled with her delicious scent - a curious mix of shoe leather and the subtle aroma of her sweat. It was surprisingly invigorating and propelled me forwards, eager for more.
With a certain trepidation, I began to push my thumbs into her soles, drawing tight circles of pressure in the soft flesh. On the desk above me, Miss Winters gasped and reached down to grip the edge of the surface on which she sat. I took this as a good sign, and my confidence grew. With my left hand, I gently stroked across the top of her foot and behind her leg, gripping the toned muscle of her calf in my fingers. Then I traced my fingers upwards to the fold of her knee, lingering on the soft flesh there and noting the way the
nylon material gathered and wrinkled.
Driven by a primal instinct now, I gently set her leg down and reached down to take hold of her other foot. I lifted it up and held it before me, enjoying the way that her shiny black pump angled her foot and lengthened her leg, tightening her calf muscle in a most aesthetic way. Then I glanced upwards at my boss, looking for a gesture of approval, not wanting to overstep the mark.
She nodded and smiled, lifting her index finger to her glistening lips and breathing heavily. I turned my attention back to her foot and wrapped my fingers around the heel, then slowly began to ease it from her. I found myself drawing out this motion, savoring the revelation in the same way that one might prolong the opening of a cherished gift. With glacial slowness, I slid the shoe off her foot, revealing her heel, arch and toes.
Oh god, what was happening here? Was I enjoying this? Was this becoming more than just a sacrifice to get ahead? My mind was racing with unfamiliar thoughts and curious urges, driven by the sight of this woman’s feet and a strange desire to caress her, to stroke her… to taste her.
I gasped as I realized what I was about to do, then gathered my courage and looked up at Miss Winters. “Miss Winters… uh… may I… use my mouth?” I whispered, my voice trembling and quiet.
Miss Winters stared back at me and cocked her head to one side, but said nothing. I was suddenly struck with a fear that I’d gone too far, that I’d behaved inappropriately and allowed myself to be driven by my desires. Before the fear could take root in my mind, Miss Winters raised her right foot and lightly stroked her toes across the rise of my breasts, brushing my throbbing nipple and causing my face to flush with pleasure.
“Yes, use your mouth please Monique,” said Miss Winters after an eternity of silence, granting me the latitude I wanted and needed.
I leaned forwards without a single second of hesitation, unable to control this unfamiliar urge. Holding her foot aloft, I rubbed her sole over my face, brushing my cheek on the soft material and breathing deeply to take the essence of her inside myself. I rolled my head from side to side, desperate for her touch, craving her sole, her soft flesh and writhing toes. Then I touched my lips to her heel, kissing her nervously, achieving the faintest hint of her taste and convincing myself that I wanted more. I pushed my tongue forward and licked from the bulge of her heel, across the long expanse of her sole to the tips of her toes. I moved slowly with my eyes held tightly shut, savoring my first taste of another woman.
