My mom sat outside the cafe in the warm, sunny air.  We weren't far from the hotel, and she dangled her left foot casually, her black flip-flop barely hanging from her toes.

I watched attractive girls walk by, their firm, supple legs and brightly-painted toenails shining in the sun.  The giggled to each other, drinking sodas and enjoying the nice weather.  None of them, however, noticed me.

I was upside-down, underneath my mom's foot.  Having grown another inch in the past hour, I was still small enough for her to strap me to her foot using a band-aid.  Having done this in the hotel room--she said she needed "closure" one last time--she now allowed me to see the women walking along the sidewalk, torturing me with their sexy proximity one last time before I became too big.  I struggled against the band-aid, desperate to kiss or lick the feet of an attractive woman who wasn't my own mother--and yet, I had no choice but to inhale the admittedly intoxicating aroma of my mom's sole.

I imagined my mom smiling, drinking tea and checking important dates on her phone, knowing I was under her foot, struggling, forced to endure more humiliation.

The walk from the hotel had been painful.  Her clean feet were a blessing, and yet I had begged her to stop this punishment as she had placed me against her foot in the room.  She promised this would be the last time, and I believed her.

We eventually left the cafe and made our way back to the hotel.  Placing me on the sheets, she sat next to me on the bed and watched television as I slowly grew throughout the day.  At times, she would touch me lovingly, encouraging me, I assumed, as my sore and aching body grew to more normal ratios.

She continued to smile, occasionally eyeing her purse on the dresser.