Since Lilina’s foot remained propped in midair to demonstrate the correct indicator on the machine, with fragments of light from above just managing to reach below the desk and sultrily illuminate the contours of her rosy-and-white-fleshed arch under that smooth web-thin garment stretched taut around the curves, Mitch didn’t even need this guidance to keep his attention obsessively glued in place. Taking her advice as an edict, he leaned in as close as he dared venture, just far enough back that his reverent exhales wouldn’t be felt on her foot. Still, this was nearer than he ever dared hope he’d come to Lilina’s sole; as the air below the desk was even more stationary and muggy, it was easy to take notice of the aroma wafting almost-feverishly from the shimmery fibers, especially while she idly balled and flexed her toes, thus exercising the whole plush underside and unconsciously fanning the warm flavor in the direction of Mitch’s nose. It was unquestionably a musk, but not immediately repugnant in the way of old laundry and bitter earth. Sweet-and-sour moisture, the tackiness of long-worn leather, and even a mouth-watering hint of perfume that smacked of vanilla and orange citrus met the man’s hanging jaws. Just as he’d been tempted last night, only lacking in motor skills then, he had to fight the urge to lunge forth and bury his face not just in the nylon folds and silken dimples of her sole flesh, but let himself be enveloped in the heat, the scent, and the complete essence. It was difficult enough keeping himself from taking too deep an inhale, lest he make a sound and alert Lilina to his depravity, but he still had to savor this precious moment, even as his heartbeat spiraled and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. At any second it could end, or worse, she could lean down just far enough to notice the tent starting to pitch under his belt, though thankfully his genuflected posture helped disguise this damning evidence.
Her foot was everything from up close that he’d ever daydreamed it was. The smell wasn’t in the least bit unpleasant, only intoxicating and human and even a little delectable, and the naked shine of those stockings was more radiant in this vicinity, but not so bright either that it distracted from the loping structure of her lively kissable-soft sole, the uncallused russet-yellow smoothness of her heel like a river stone, or the dainty gumdrop-point pads of her toes.
“Can you see the light?” she asked, the sound of her voice becoming so strangely resonant while Mitch was under the metal-walled desk that he winced like he’d been caught committing a crime, when in reality she’d almost given him no choice but to tuck himself down here with his face mere inches from her foot.
“N-Not yet,” he stuttered, and was glad this was the truth, since he had to milk every second he was allowed to remain here. It felt so appropriate, bowing in the presence of that ped while it hovered just high enough off the floor to keep her cushy toe-tip smushed comfortably up beside the beacon on the CPU, a posture that also created such lovely diagonal ripple-effect mini-ravines along her arch pith for Mitch to pine after.
“Well, keep watching, please. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to know the solution to all my problems must be so close at hand, and yet I just can’t reach it, no matter how badly I wish to,” Lilina said. Her digits unconsciously flexed, popping quietly at the joints and instigating another narcotically-beautiful lotion-soft tessellation of grooves surging down her whole foot underbelly. This dispersed her scent even more effectively, filling the prostrated under-desk worker’s airways with warmth and fruitiness and pheromones, and he was almost dizzy with hope now that she’d accidentally swing her foot too far to the side, not knowing exactly how well he’d followed her advice to watch from close-up, and brush that lacy-threaded instep across his cheek. Even lasting a fraction of a second, he’d cling to that probably-damp itch forever.
“You have no idea,” Mitch murmured under his breath. Just when his need was growing greatest, and his crotch stood at inconveniently full mast, he saw the green light flicker. There wasn’t much to see, like she’d warned, but what made it more obvious was the way it refracted microscopically through the woven fibers of her light-tan nylon, flashing dim neon over the paler curve of the plusher shelf along the top of Lilina’s sole.
For reasons Mitch couldn’t quite fathom, this subtle sight made the gears in his brain clamp for a moment; his mouth hung open and he more openly breathed in the woman’s foot-aura, so taken by her in this moment and so humiliatingly wishful of the impossible, that for a serious split-second, he considered what the consequences would actually be of pressing his face just a bit further forward, until the actively-scrunching slab of that heated nude-stockinged sole was cupped over his nose and lips.
In whatever few-heartbeat frame of time he was allowed to pay homage to her then, he would huff that meaty sole with all he was worth and rake his tongue over gritty leather-spiced mesh and pucker his lips to the cushiony firmness while he was left half-sobbing with fulfillment. No one outside in the rest of the office would ever have to know, of course, unless Lilina screamed bloody-murder and kicked him square in the jaw, which admittedly was likely to happen, if not assured; still, Mitch became obsessed then with the narrow possibility that she didn’t. What if she felt him press his face into her foot, recognized it was no accident, and said nothing? Did nothing, except bend her toes down at once to maximize the wrinkle-population down her convexed arch and give him even more surface area to bury himself among her hot-blooded classily-garbed ped? What if she understood why he did it, and not only tolerated it, but took a shine to it herself? Where might they end up then?
“The light should be on now. Do you see it?” Lilina queried, breaking Mitch from his libidinous reverie and giving him cause to sigh with disappointment, though too softly for her to hear. This taunting adjacency with the endgame of his sexual dreams had officially come to an end.
“Yes, I see the light.”
And God, had he ever. Even if he wasn’t allowed to touch it.
“Perfect. Then I’ll just try this, change this setting, and… well, what do you know. It seems to have worked now, finally. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
Mitch knew that feeling all too keenly as well.
“That’ll do. Thank you for going down there.”
“You’re w-welcome. I’m… glad it works now. Any time.”
“Any time? I’ll certainly keep that in mind, what with how unreliable these machines can be. Believe me, I’ll always trust a human touch first. It’s nice to have someone like you close by.”
“No trouble at all!” he added, wondering if he was laying it on too thick and dog-like now.
“Mitch?”
“Yes?”
“You can feel free to come back out of there whenever you’d like,” she said, though charitably, there was no condescension or irritation in her voice at his having weirdly remained in the shadows under her desk well-beyond when an average person would’ve guessed they were required to do so. Instead, her voice held the same enigmatic lilt from that first day he’d laid eyes on her, like she knew something he didn’t, if not a great deal of somethings.
This was the first gentle command given him by Lilina that Mitch chose to disobey, because if he had actually stayed down there until when he truly wanted, he wouldn’t have budged from that spot until everyone clocked out and the lights switched off. Still, seeing there was no possible way to remain at the altar of her propped-up stocking foot for any longer without risking everything, he withdrew from this stuffy hallowed position beneath Lilina, bidding her peds one last silent look of longing just before she could see him fully again. Once out, he ascended back to his usual height, feeling just a tad askew in the moments after, like he’d strapped on clown stilts. The fatigue he’d felt when she fetched him for duty was largely supplanted now with equally-lethargic sensual daydreams. By some miracle, too, he’d managed to suppress his arousal exactly enough before standing that his coworker had no reason to go bug-eyed with disgust at the sight of a horrifically blatant pants tent, and so Mitch parted with her in seeming innocuousness, receiving another grateful smile for his “troubles.” She hadn’t suspected a thing.
He may not have been able to kiss that feminine stitching-snug arch without wrecking his life, but at least the realness of her vanilla-perspiration fragrance and the ripply dance of those peachy sole furrows would give him much more tactile reference as pre-sleep autoerotic inspiration than the half-remembered wonders of last night.