The Night My Stockings Changed Everything with Daniela

Daniela and I had known each other since our first year of college, and by the time we turned twenty-one we had lost count of the nights we spent at her apartment watching movies until our eyes closed. That kind of intimacy between friends who tell each other everything and nothing, the kind built over years of comfortable silences and private jokes.

That Friday night it was raining hard. We had ordered food, opened a bottle of cheap red wine, and settled into her bed, which was bigger and softer than the couch. I was always the odd one out in the group: I dressed somewhere between sweet and dark, flared skirts and heavy boots, and I had an obsession with thigh-high stockings that my friends loved without really understanding why.

That night I was wearing white thigh-high stockings, thin, almost transparent, with a satin bow sewn onto the edge. I had put them on to go out and never taken them off. When it came time to get comfortable, she pulled out a flannel pajama set and I stayed as I was: a long cotton T-shirt that reached halfway down my thigh, and the stockings.

—Are you going to sleep in that? —she laughed, nodding at me with her chin.

—I’m comfortable like this —I said, shrugging—. Does it bother you?

—Not at all. That’s you in your purest form.

We settled in. She sat against the headboard with her legs stretched out, and I lay down on my side, my head near her hip and my feet toward the other end. At some point, without really thinking about it, I did what I always did: I lifted my legs and rested my feet on her lap. We had been doing it for years. It was an automatic gesture, with no ulterior motive.

The movie started. I barely followed it. The wine had made my skin warm and a little lazy, and I started moving my toes slowly, almost without noticing, brushing the soft fabric of her pants. A tiny, distracted touch.

—Cami —she said, with a strange voice—. Could you stop for a second?

I lifted my head, startled. Daniela’s cheeks were flushed and there was a tension in her jaw I didn’t recognize.

—Sorry —I said, pulling my feet back sharply—. I didn’t think it bothered you.

—It’s not that it bothers me —she answered quickly, too quickly—. It’s just... not that.

—Then what?

—Nothing. Forget it.

—Dani —I insisted, sitting up in the bed—. We’ve known each other for four years. Tell me.

She dropped her gaze to my feet, still encased in those white stockings, and bit her lip. When she spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

—I like it —she said—. I like it too much. And I’m embarrassed that it’s like that.

Something shifted inside me. It wasn’t fear. It was a hot current that ran down the center of my body and left me breathless for a second. I looked into her eyes, and in them there was a mix of fear and hunger I had never seen before.

—Show me how much you like it —I said.

I don’t know where that line came from. I heard it in my own voice and barely recognized it. Daniela looked at me as if asking for permission one last time, and I stretched my leg toward her, slowly, offering her my foot.

***

She took it with both hands, with a care I hadn’t expected, as if she were holding something that could break. She brought her face closer and inhaled deeply over the fabric. Then she pressed her lips to the top of my foot, over the stocking, and left a long, closed kiss there that I felt travel all the way up my leg.

—I’ve been thinking about this for months —she murmured against my skin—. Every time you put your feet here I go crazy and pretend to be asleep.

—Really?

—Really.

She ran her tongue along the edge of the stocking, tracing the outline of my toes through the sheer fabric. The sensation was strange and delicious at the same time: the wet heat of her mouth filtering through the nylon, the soft pressure of her lips. Without realizing it I let out a sigh and fell back, propped on my elbows so I wouldn’t miss anything.

—Tell me if it’s okay —she asked, looking up.

—It’s more than okay —I said, and my own voice sounded husky—. Keep going.

Daniela closed her eyes and gave herself over to it. She took my big toe into her mouth, still with the stocking on, and sucked it slowly, making me squeeze my thighs together. Then she went for the others, one by one, soaking the fabric with her saliva until the white stocking clung to my skin, almost translucent. The cool air as her mouth pulled away contrasted with the heat she left behind, and that difference electrified my back.

—I have to take them off you —she said suddenly—. I want to feel you for real.

I nodded without words. She hooked her fingers into the satin edge and began sliding the stocking down my thigh, over my calf, over my ankle, with a patience that drove me insane. When she finally pulled it off my foot, she held it for a moment in her hand, damp and crumpled, and set it aside without taking it out of the game.

Her mouth returned, now on bare skin. Without the barrier of the fabric, every stroke of her tongue between my toes was ten times more intense. I gripped the sheets and arched my back. I didn’t consider myself someone with a weak spot there, but Daniela was discovering nerve endings I hadn’t even known I had.

—I can’t take it anymore like this —I said, sitting up—. Come here.

***

I pulled her by the T-shirt and kissed her. It was a messy kiss, all teeth and broken breaths, the kiss of two people who had spent years holding back without realizing it. I slid my hands under the flannel and found her breasts, warm, the nipples already hard. She groaned into my mouth and let herself be shoved onto the mattress.

I took off the top half of her pajamas and moved down her neck with my mouth, then her sternum, then her stomach. Daniela dug her fingers into my hair and whispered my name like it was a question. When I reached the waistband of her pants, I looked up to find her gaze. She nodded yes, breathless, and I undressed her completely.

She was soaked. I ran one finger through her center, slowly, and a long moan slipped out of her that set me on fire. But I still had the other stocking on, and an idea occurred to me.

—Stay still —I told her.

I sat facing her, opened her legs, and pressed my foot, still encased in the white stocking, against her sex. The fabric grew wet at once, darkening with it. I started rubbing, slowly, watching her face as I did. Daniela threw her head back and clutched the sheets.

—This is exactly how I imagined you’d be —she gasped—. Don’t stop, please.

I pressed a little harder, moving my foot in circles, feeling through the stocking how much she wanted it. With my other hand I touched myself, unable to wait any longer, and the two of us got tangled in the same rhythm: her against my foot, me against my own fingers, both of us looking at each other as if it were the first time we’d ever truly seen each other.

—I’m going to come —she warned, her voice breaking.

—Come —I said—. I want to see you.

I sped up, rubbing the soaked stocking against her, and Daniela arched all at once, trembling, with a muffled cry buried into the pillow. I stayed still, feeling her pulse against my foot until the last shudder let her go and she collapsed, undone, onto the mattress.

***

She didn’t let me rest for long. As soon as she caught her breath, she sat up with a new smile, one that mixed tenderness with something much darker.

—Your turn —she said.

She laid me on my back and spread my legs. She took the stocking she had removed from me, the one that was wet with her saliva, and surprised me: she slid it slowly inside me, using it in a way I never would have imagined. The sensation of the soft fabric going in and out, combined with her tongue working my clit, made me lose all sense of time.

—Dani... —I could barely speak—. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

—Don’t hold out —she murmured without lifting her mouth—. Let go.

She deliberately changed the rhythm, slow and then fast, bringing me to the edge and holding me there until I begged her. At just the right moment she pulled the stocking out with a soft tug and closed her lips over me, sucking, and the world went dark. The orgasm shook me from the inside and tore a scream out of me that the neighbors probably heard. I came against her mouth, my legs trembling around her head, repeating her name without control.

When I came back to myself, Daniela had her face resting on my thigh and was looking at me with a tired, happy smile. Outside, it was still raining. The bed was a mess, the stockings ruined, and neither of us cared.

—Four years —she said, laughing softly—. Four years wasting time.

—We didn’t waste it —I answered, pulling her down so she’d lie on my chest—. We were getting here.

That night we didn’t finish the movie. We stayed awake until late, talking about everything we had never dared to say, laughing at how obvious it had always been. Before we fell asleep, she intertwined her foot with mine under the sheets, and I understood that this intimacy of so many years was only just beginning to reveal what it really was.