Festive Feet

Golden balloons drift above the living room floor. A low fire throws warm light across the walls. Lulu Love waits for Kristof Cale in sheer red lace that barely covers her pale skin. She is barefoot, toes pointed, painted nails catching the glow. The moment he steps inside she lifts one foot and strokes the arch with slow fingers. Her hand glides higher, tracing the top, pressing gently between each toe. Kristof watches, breath already tightening. She smiles, leans back, and slides her foot along his thigh until the ball of her foot rests against the hard line pushing at his trousers. Heat moves through him fast. She kneels, hair falling over one shoulder, and frees him. Her tongue finds the head first, soft and wet, then she takes him deeper. Her lips stretch around his length until her nose meets his stomach. He feels her throat open and close, hears the quiet sounds she makes with every slow descent. Her hand stays on her foot, rubbing lightly while she works her mouth up and down. When she pulls off, a string of spit trails from her bottom lip. She offers that foot again. He presses himself against the soft sole and the warm skin of her instep. She strokes him there, firm and sure, until his hips jerk forward. He finishes across the tops of her feet, thick white streaks marking her skin. She watches him with a lazy, pleased smile, toes flexing through the warmth he left behind.