She can feel the tiny rapping of his fists through the plastic, but nothing he does will convince her to let him go. Let him *out*, maybe. She's up for anything as long as it doesn't diminish the feeling of unhindered power she's getting from toying with her (former) coworker using the lowliest part of her body.
Not that she doesn't take great care of her feet, naturally; frankly, he's lucky to get such a fantastic view of her soft, smooth skin. Maybe she'll make him maintain her pedicured toes. It would be a fitting job for him, after all the absurd flattery he showered on their boss got him the promotion that should have been hers by merit. A little feet cleaning, and maybe just a little groveling, should be right up his alley.
And hey, he was always bugging her to have coffee with him. If that meant what she thought it meant (and it always means that), then he should be grateful that she's taking him to her apartment once she gets off from work. And even if he's not, she doesn't really care; he'll learn soon that he's lucky enough not to be just a stain under her foot.
|
