The spell of her feet

THE SPELL OF HER FEET

After a long rehearsal she fell to the floor, contorting in pain.

-My foot, it hurts!

Sitting on the floor she massaged her bare foot, helpless as a little wounded bird.

-What happened?

-A cramp.  Since the day I bent my foot I've been like this, but it's not that frequent.

-Let me see...Hey, you've got pretty feet!

She smiled, blushing. Her face looked even sweeter this way.  She looked between shy and coquettish as he massaged her bare feet, feeling the muscles relax under his hands, feeling the hard, rough surface of the soles of her feet, of her feet of a dancer.

She allowed him to. She liked having her feet in his hands.  She liked him since some time now, she felt attracted to him, but hadn't told him anything.  And now he had her feet between his hands.  He had her trapped, helpless.  It was funny, a cramp had made that she had him now at her feet.  And without her noticing it either, he had been observing her for a long time, watching the grace of her dance, admiring the skill and beauty of her bare feet with which she teased him ceacelessly.

And now he had those feet, the object of his passion, between his hands.  Small and apparently delicate, but firm, strong and warm.  The dust adhered to her soles highlighted the curves of her feet.  For a moment, he remembered that time when he saw her walking barefoot in the street.  She had just finished a performance and walked in a hurry, without worrying at all in putting her shoes on, to dance into another place.  She didn't care that the midday sun heated the pavement as if it were an electric iron, nor that the cement was rough and full of gravel, all she cared about was getting there and starting to dance again, feel the music and begin flying again.

He helped her on her feet without staring in her eyes.  And then, as he helped her, he kissed her.  She closed her eyes and kissed him back.

The Marinera and her naked feet had done their magic again.