in.”
A strong twist of my
right nipple had me gasping and reeling forward, giving the shoe one long lick.
The hands touching me grew more assertive, as if watching me humiliated like
this gave them additional license.
“More,” encouraged
Jake, holding the shoe directly in front of my nose.
I pulled back the
slightest bit, and I knew Jake felt it. “You can do it,” he said, and I
remembered a time perhaps five years before. We’d been in the bar for hours
with a large group of friends. They’d been drinking all night, and they were
all singing along to the jukebox, but I’d been drinking hot tea because I’d had
a cold. Jake had been nursing the same beer all night, and I’d caught him giving
me the look that confused me so much when I’d caught his eye unexpectedly.
“What?” I’d said.
“Nothing,” Jake said,
moving his glass in a small circle on the table top.
“No, what?” He
couldn’t be interested. Not now. Jesus, I’d just gotten together with someone,
a nice guy who liked me, a guy I was meeting later in the evening when he got
off his hospital rotation. Of course, I hadn’t missed the irony that as soon as
I’d become serious with someone, Jake had finally broken up with his girlfriend
of three years, the woman who’d prevented me from ever making a move.
“I was just wondering
if he’s enough for you.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Steve? What do you mean?”
“Is he man enough to
satisfy you?”
I laughed. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”
Jake didn’t smile. “So
he’s not.”
I glanced to my left.
All our friends were done singing and were busy shouting something about how
Wendy had cheated at dice. “He’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, he’s
great.”
“Is he man enough to
keep you in line?”
I should have laughed
at such a ridiculous statement. I should have instantly said, No man can
keep me in line. That was the truth, after all. Wasn’t it? I took care of
myself. Hell, I’d taken care of the last three men I’d dated, giving way more
than I received, and that had been fine. Up to a point. At my gym, if a student
came at me wrong, with a poor intention or inflated ego, I used the opportunity
to correct them. I wasn’t always gentle. It had been something my last
boyfriend had complained about, actually. “You never let me be the man.” I
hadn’t understood what he meant. When we had sex, he liked me to be on
top. He’d told me that a hundred times. He liked the way I took charge of where
we ate, what we did, when we fucked. My new boyfriend reminded me of my ex,
actually, in the way he deferred to what I wanted. I liked that in a man. “A
considerate man is something all women look for.”
Jake only gave a nod.
His smoky gray eyes had lifted to the blinking neon in the window over my head,
and I’d had the feeling I’d disappointed him. I didn’t know how.
Now, though, as he
held the sole of the shoe to me, as if it were a gift, I knew one thing: I
wasn’t disappointing him. The glow in his eyes, the genuine smile on his face,
told me he was proud of me.
Using my tongue,
carefully keeping my lips from touching the shoe, I licked along a seam. The
taste, surprisingly, wasn’t unpleasant—dust mixed with the warm smell of
old polish. I ran my tongue along the heel and then to the toe. I made sure I
wetted every part of the upper, laving it (eagerly now, I was shocked to
realize) as Jake twisted it in front of me. My hands stayed perfectly still and
flat on the seat of the chair. I think if someone had wrapped their arms around
me and tried to carry me away, I would have fought them, just to keep my hands
flat. It was important, as important as the job I was doing on Marco’s shoe.
“That’s my good girl.”
I was right. He was proud of me, proud that I was here, proud that he could show me off, proud that
I could take the crowd of eyes staring, the fingers touching. His gaze was like
a kiss, one I’d been waiting
A strong twist of my
right nipple had me gasping and reeling forward, giving the shoe one long lick.
The hands touching me grew more assertive, as if watching me humiliated like
this gave them additional license.
“More,” encouraged
Jake, holding the shoe directly in front of my nose.
I pulled back the
slightest bit, and I knew Jake felt it. “You can do it,” he said, and I
remembered a time perhaps five years before. We’d been in the bar for hours
with a large group of friends. They’d been drinking all night, and they were
all singing along to the jukebox, but I’d been drinking hot tea because I’d had
a cold. Jake had been nursing the same beer all night, and I’d caught him giving
me the look that confused me so much when I’d caught his eye unexpectedly.
“What?” I’d said.
“Nothing,” Jake said,
moving his glass in a small circle on the table top.
“No, what?” He
couldn’t be interested. Not now. Jesus, I’d just gotten together with someone,
a nice guy who liked me, a guy I was meeting later in the evening when he got
off his hospital rotation. Of course, I hadn’t missed the irony that as soon as
I’d become serious with someone, Jake had finally broken up with his girlfriend
of three years, the woman who’d prevented me from ever making a move.
“I was just wondering
if he’s enough for you.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Steve? What do you mean?”
“Is he man enough to
satisfy you?”
I laughed. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”
Jake didn’t smile. “So
he’s not.”
I glanced to my left.
All our friends were done singing and were busy shouting something about how
Wendy had cheated at dice. “He’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, he’s
great.”
“Is he man enough to
keep you in line?”
I should have laughed
at such a ridiculous statement. I should have instantly said, No man can
keep me in line. That was the truth, after all. Wasn’t it? I took care of
myself. Hell, I’d taken care of the last three men I’d dated, giving way more
than I received, and that had been fine. Up to a point. At my gym, if a student
came at me wrong, with a poor intention or inflated ego, I used the opportunity
to correct them. I wasn’t always gentle. It had been something my last
boyfriend had complained about, actually. “You never let me be the man.” I
hadn’t understood what he meant. When we had sex, he liked me to be on
top. He’d told me that a hundred times. He liked the way I took charge of where
we ate, what we did, when we fucked. My new boyfriend reminded me of my ex,
actually, in the way he deferred to what I wanted. I liked that in a man. “A
considerate man is something all women look for.”
Jake only gave a nod.
His smoky gray eyes had lifted to the blinking neon in the window over my head,
and I’d had the feeling I’d disappointed him. I didn’t know how.
Now, though, as he
held the sole of the shoe to me, as if it were a gift, I knew one thing: I
wasn’t disappointing him. The glow in his eyes, the genuine smile on his face,
told me he was proud of me.
Using my tongue,
carefully keeping my lips from touching the shoe, I licked along a seam. The
taste, surprisingly, wasn’t unpleasant—dust mixed with the warm smell of
old polish. I ran my tongue along the heel and then to the toe. I made sure I
wetted every part of the upper, laving it (eagerly now, I was shocked to
realize) as Jake twisted it in front of me. My hands stayed perfectly still and
flat on the seat of the chair. I think if someone had wrapped their arms around
me and tried to carry me away, I would have fought them, just to keep my hands
flat. It was important, as important as the job I was doing on Marco’s shoe.
“That’s my good girl.”
I was right. He was proud of me, proud that I was here, proud that he could show me off, proud that
I could take the crowd of eyes staring, the fingers touching. His gaze was like
a kiss, one I’d been waiting
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