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The knock caught me by surprise.

Kelly kept an eye out the window with a good angle down the sidewalk Jim would take home. I trusted she would stop me the moment she saw the faintest silhouette of Jim approaching. And so I went on, this time taking her right foot, kissing up the length of her arch. My lips reached the joint between the ball of her foot and big toe and stayed there for a moment. I took in the smell again as my hard-on raged farther upward. I needed a taste.

"Oh god..." I muttered, "I'm going crazy. I've wanted this for so long."

I let just the tip of my tongue wet the base of her big toe. I glanced up for a reaction from Kelly. She took her eye off the window to look down at me and flashed another one of her devilish smiles, as if to say, 'keep going.' Encouraged, I parted my lips wider and took in her candy-colored big toe in my mouth. Kelly let out a high-pitched moan that fanned the flame. I sucked her gently and swirled my tongue around, which was met with further vocal approval: "Oh my god... that feels fucking wild."

Just as my wildest dream was becoming reality, it had to end. Kelly reached down, touched my hair, and drew her feet away. She saw through the window that Jim was now just down the street and approaching swiftly. Time was up. She slipped on her flip flops and hopped off the couch without a word. I suppose it went without saying: act naturally.

Jim swung open the door cheerfully singing our college's fight song on "da da da." I don't think he ever knew the words to that damn song, but it was pretty clear that he was tipsy and ready for more booze.

"Eriiiik, you ready for this shit??" He triumphantly raised his arms, a handle of cheap tequila in one hand and a bagful of food in the other.

"Yeah man, let's do this," I answered, as we headed over to the kitchen. Kelly was preparing ice for our margaritas, twisting the ice cube trays less than adeptly. One of the ice cubes popped up and landed on the floor right at her feet. Knowing Jim was facing away from us slicing limes, I reached down to pick up the ice cube and stole another close look at her pretty red toes. It occurred to me then, that my face might never come so close to her feet again. Was her curiosity with my fetish already satisfied? Might there be something in it for her, to be so worshipped by me? Might we ever pick up where we left off? These thoughts swirled in my brain while I lingered there a moment, staring at the picture of perfection.

"DUDE!"

Jim had turned around to find me kneeling down at Kelly's feet. I sprung back into attention, but it was pretty clear what I was doing. I couldn't tell in that moment whether he was amused or upset.

"Were you checking out Kelly's feet?"

I got up immediately and showed him the ice cube that I picked up. "No, no. This fell on the floor."

"Oh come on, man. It's ok. Admit it; you were checking out my girl's feet."

"I uhh, I...No...! I really wasn't," I stuttered back.

"Jim, it's ok. Don't embarrass him. He wasn't doing anything." said Kelly.

"I'm telling you, Erik," he said calmly, "it's ok if you were. Seriously, man. I mean, as far as feet go, I'm guessing Kelly's are pretty good-looking, right?"

I didn't know what to say, but I had to say something. I told the truth, albeit a gross understatement. "Yes, Kelly's got great feet."

Kelly raised her eyebrows, as if to appear surprised, and exchanged a glance with Jim, who smirked and shrugged. "Well, we can drink to that," he said, "that's high praise from an expert! You should be flattered, Kelly!"

I watched Kelly respond with an awkward chuckle, but Jim was still smiling. It seemed that everything was ok. "Well, let's get drinking and grilling, shall we?" said Kelly, seemingly eager to change the subject.

And we did; we began by discussing whether we wanted our margaritas blended or on the rocks.

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