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Christina’s hot pursuit.

'The outside of the foot to the outside of the body and the inside to the centreline.'

I needed to check my watch, time was clicking on, but I didn't. I needed to tell her to hurry, but I didn't. I was uncomfortable in this chair, I needed to take my foot away from her and get comfortable, but I didn't... I watched her intensely as her thumb wove across the bridge of my foot and began to rub on the inside edge.

There was a crash of the bell above the door and a man barged in, dragging the blare of the street with him. Without thinking I snatched my foot away. The assistant rose demurely and swept over to him as I jerked to a more upright position in the chair and dragged at the hem of my skirt.

I watched them as they talked, or rather I watched her. She nodded often, leaning towards him and smiling, just as she had done with me, and I felt a pang of loss.

When he finally left, she locked the door and lowered the blinds.

'What are you doing?' I asked.

'Interruptions won't help you relax.' She replied, kneeling before me once again. She removed the shoe and her thumb worked across the sole, the pressure easily passing into my flesh.

'I need to be back at work.'

'You can leave whenever you want.' She said, with a smile. 'Or you can relax. Five minutes out of your day won't hurt, will it?'

Easy for you to say, I thought and I think it was easy for her, she really did have no problem with this, with being close to another woman, her body was loose and free and I was not a little jealous.

'Who was that woman?' I asked, remembering the fashion victim who'd ignored her.

She looked at me quizzically, her hands flowing into a position that allowed the massage to wash to and fro up my calf.

'When I first came in there was a woman, you touched her on the arm.'

'Did I?' She is an ex-girlfriend, that's all. I've just moved down here and she came to say hello.' She gave me that smile again. 'All quite innocent.'

'Oh.' I said, my voice drifting off as I closed my eyes and tried to give myself up to the stream of tension pouring out of me through her fingers. The massage reached my knee and, without any discernable break, she started again on my other foot. My body was limp, as if the only thing that had been keeping me upright was the tight interlock of my muscles that this girl was eroding.

Oh why, I thought, couldn't any of my boyfriends have done this for me? I could barely summon the energy to breath as my calf muscles crumpled under the gentle strength of her hand. Her hands reached the top of my calf and, as smoothly as she had changed over legs, she gently eased my knees apart.

There was something so natural about the action that it didn't even register at first. I ought to be heading back to work, I thought even as I slid down the chair, my skirt riding up as I did so. I began to think of what I needed to do that afternoon, relaxing might be a good idea, but I didn't need to switch off completely. Then I felt a kiss.

It was just above my knee and I wasn't even sure it was a kiss at first. It felt like one, like her lips against my flesh, but I couldn't be sure, the touch was so faint. Then I felt it again, a definite kiss, above the hemline of my skirt, or at least what used to be the hemline before she'd opened my legs.

Her breath caressed my thighs, punctuated by feather-light kisses, and I tried to imagine that it was a man doing this, that her smooth face was just clean-shaven, that her gentleness was just skill, that the slow and easy progress of her kisses was just a strong discipline not to rush to a climax. But it was so long since I'd shared any intimacy that I struggled to keep the fiction alive.

As her lips pressed against me again, her cheek brushed the fabric of my knickers.

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