Barefooted

Sinead soaked her feet for a full hour until the skin softened and the warm water left them faintly fragrant. She rubbed in creams and dusted them with powder, then gave them another hour to rest. When she lifted a foot to her mouth the taste was clean and sweet, and that first lick made her want more. She bent her toes, spread them, pressed the soles together, testing how they felt against her tongue, her lips, the inside of her thighs. Each new angle drew her deeper. She curled her legs beneath her, rested a heel on the cushion, let her toes dangle and sway. The soles flexed, the arches tightened, and every movement showed how supple and ready they had become. She kept going, foot after foot, lost in the slow, intimate play.