Closing

I flipped the sign and locked the shop. Evan was already in the back with two paper cups, because I had asked him to stay. I am twenty-four. He is twenty-eight. We are dating. I am a grown woman and I talk like one. I kicked my shoes under the chair and stood barefoot on the rug in the rust cardigan and my glasses. I wanted him to look at my feet and not touch them yet.

He looked. He smiled like a man, not like a game. Hi, he said. You did that on purpose. I did. I walked the rug once so he could see the arches. Sit in the chair, I said. Hands on your knees. He sat. I came close and set one bare foot on the cushion between his thighs, not on his cock. Almost. The tease is the point. Tell me what you want to do, I said. Do not do it.

He said he wanted to kiss the sole, then my ankles, then lick my cunt until I forgot the till. I felt that list in my stomach. Good. Stay still. I traced my toes along his thigh, light, and watched his cock strain his trousers. I like that power when it is kind. I took my glasses off, then put them back on. I wanted to see his face.

Now you can touch, I said. He caught my foot and kissed the arch like he had been starving. I gasped. The waiting made it sharper. I let him have both feet, then I pulled him onto the rug. Mouth on my cunt, I said. He got my skirt up and licked my clit while my bare feet rubbed his back. I came fast, laughing once, then moaning his name. I wanted his cock fucking my cunt on that rug.

He asked. Yes. Please fuck me. He fucked me deep, forehead on mine, one hand holding my ankle up so he could kiss the instep between strokes. I love you when you do that, I said. I came again, cunt tight around his cock. He asked where. In my cunt, I said. Stay and cum. He came shaking. After, he held my hand on the walk home.