“How were the other shoes?” I asked as she strolled around the kitchen preparing dinner in her heels.
“Better,” she acknowledged.
“Oh so no more foot rubs. Good,” I lied, laughing.
“Hey I didn’t say that,” she smiled and approached. “Look at you Mr. Stuff-shirt businessman.” She tugged at my tie before loosening it and placing a hand upon my chest. It for a moment felt like we were a married couple and it took everything to not lean in and kiss her. “Why don’t you go and get changed, dinner’s in ten.”
I wanted to smack her bottom playfully as she turned away to get back to the meal, my hand almost in the process of moving to do so. However showing amazing restraint I controlled myself, satisfied by admiring her ass as I left the room.
“Was today any better?” I asked when I returned to the kitchen.
“Apart from the limited hours and the fact I was on back to back waxing all morning,” she replied sarcastically. “Yeah it was great.”
“I think you should seriously consider leaving Mom, if you’re not happy,” I reasoned. “I can help you look for jobs. It doesn’t have to be in a salon.”
“Baby this is all I know how to do. Monica and I were talking about it. Who’d want to employ middle aged women with no other experience outside their field? I looked online this afternoon,” she added. “There just aren’t any vacancies at the moment. Not in the current climate.”
I sat at the table and admired her body, the straps of ‘that’ white bra under the tank top. There was the hint of underwear behind the leggings, a faint panty-line on her hip, the color however, hidden. ‘I’ would employ her, I thought. To do any number of things. The thought struck me like a bag of bricks and I rose from the table.
“Where are you going?” Mom enquired. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Have to check on something, I’ll be back in a minute,” I explained and headed to my room, opening my phone and the appropriate apps. I looked up into my reflection and couldn’t hide the excitement in my eyes.
*
Our show ended and I texted a friend to convey my thoughts, awaiting a reply as Mom scrolled through the onscreen tv guide.
“You’re not going out tonight?” She casually remarked before she jumped at the text response vibrating from my phone.
I chuckled at my friends comment and set it aside before giving Mom my undivided attention.
“What and miss foot massage Friday?” I laughed and made a play for her ankle.
“Again?” She seemed shocked I was offering another foot rub and quickly changed her position to enable me access to both feet. “You don’t have to,” she added and I feigned acquiescence by letting go of her foot.
“Oh ok then,” I joked.
“Oh!” She moaned and I laughed out loud, taking her foot once again in my hands.
Wearing white ankle socks, I slid them off her feet and set about repeating the previous nights massage, a glass of wine in her grip as opposed to the tea. As she adjusted her position to become more comfortable the light blue nightie she wore rode up high on her thighs, any higher I thought, and I’d see everything.
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