Tired of work?

Danny’s sick of the grind. So is Ava. She stretches out on the couch and flexes her feet, the thin white straps of her sandals biting into the arches like silk restraints. He watches the slow curl of her toes, forgets the wrench in his hand. The woman knows exactly what she’s doing. She slides one heel across the cushion, points her foot at his chest. He sets the tool down, kneels, palms the warm leather. The sole is smooth, fragrant. He presses his nose to the arch, inhales, then kisses. Lips open, tongue traces the line of each toe until the sandal’s buckle clinks loose and drops. Ava sighs, pushes forward, lets his mouth close around her big toe. Sucking, tasting salt and lotion. She watches, amused, aroused. Her other foot slips down, finds the stiff line under his jeans, grinds the heel lightly, letting him know the game’s only just begun.