Frieda continued to claim she didn’t trust Val. The old woman brought the newly arrived guest a coffee.“Et Monsieur le Carre?”“Bientot.” The...woman smiled. Another man entered. He was older, pushing sixty, short, fit, and brown skinned. His black hair had all but finished going grey. He wore a brilliant silk suit. Kirk didn’t think to be embarrassed by his khaki shorts and sock filled sandals.“Why do you even have her work for you? Didn’t you ever hear don’t shit where you eat!” Frieda’s rant. But now here I was, utterly transfixed by my best friend's slowly writhing, endlessly compelling feet. What was happening to me?I reached forward, unable to resist despite my token protest. My heart was hammering, my head was swimming, the periphery of my vision became blurred until only her soles and toes stood out in sharp relief. Between my legs, a familiar rush of tingling warmth, a pulse of pleasure that made my neck flush with a sudden heat. My fingers trembled, shaking as much with the. More

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