Seduction

I’d been at the company for three weeks when he leaned over the table and told me I had something that caught people’s attention. That same afternoon, I followed him.

When that man put his hands on my back, I knew it was no longer about the fever or the exhaustion from the trip, but about something I had been avoiding for years.

He knocked expecting a routine exam. A stranger in a robe opened the door with a smile that promised trouble, and he knew that afternoon he wouldn’t be in charge.

Her feet on the edge of my chair were only the beginning. That night I found out how far I was willing to go to please her.

I’d kept that secret for years. It took one bottle of vodka and an old white flip-flop for her to take control and put me on my knees.

Every time her sister turned away, she slipped off her sandals and left her feet on display, knowing exactly what she was doing to me and savoring every second of my torment.

She took off her shoe in the car, slid her foot to my crotch, and whispered: “Is your first time going to be by obeying me? Even better for both of us.”

It took me three months of patience to get to Mariana’s sofa, slowly take off her sneakers, and find out whether she really minded that I couldn’t stop looking at her feet.

I went to her house for a school assignment and found her in flip-flops. From that moment on, I could never look at her without thinking of her feet.

I started graduate school not knowing anyone. It only took one look at her crossing her legs and slipping off a sandal for me to stop paying attention to anything else.

When she came out of the bedroom wrapped in that black latex, ponytail pulled tight and high heels on, I knew we weren’t going to sleep early that night.

She knew those two men would despise her the moment she walked through the door, and that was exactly what kept her coming back for more.

I didn’t need to read his name to know the green pants he described in such detail were mine. And I knew, in that instant, that I was going to make him beg.

She got thrown out of the mansion for asking too much. Lost in the night, the stench of a garbage truck made her smile: at last, someone spoke her language.

She went down those clinic stairs knowing she would not leave as the same woman: three pairs of hands were waiting to remind her what she really was.

Centella pinned me against the booth wall, her breasts against my face, and whispered that I should learn to stay still and obey every order.

She boarded the bus barefoot, sneakers in hand, and at the back a stranger couldn’t tear his eyes from her bare feet on the seat.

For years I’d chased this moment in airports and trains, but I never imagined a stranger would let me worship her bare feet on a flight.

I was only going to touch him for a moment, out of pity. I never imagined that old man with the huge hands would end up giving me orders while I obeyed without resistance.

He offered me double the salary of anyone else. What wasn’t in the contract was everything his hand on my shoulder was demanding from me.