(Troy Discusses Casey's Proposal)

"...Now that's interesting," Dawn mused, from the other side of Troy's smartphone pressed against his ear.

Troy, having since gotten comfortable, laid on his bed as his eyes lingered on the ceiling above. During the course of their early evening conversation, he had informed Dawn of Casey's proposal of the four meeting up at some point in the future.

"She wanted to know if you would be okay with it," Troy said.

"She never mentioned this to you before? You told me that you two would talk about macro sometimes, but..."

"No, not until today," Troy said. "I guess she thought there wasn't a point since I wasn't seeing anyone until recently. She did say that she does it with other couples."

"I see... I have to think about it. I mean, I don't want anyone squishing you but me, you know?"

Troy laughed. "Yeah, I know."

"But at the same time, it's not often that I have the chance to smush multiple guys, even if it's just one extra. ...Actually, I haven't ever had a chance to smush any guy until you."

"It is a hard decision, isn't it? Don't worry, though. There's no rush."

"Alright. I'll think about sharing you with your coworker." Dawn's tone sounded as if she was teasing him. "But I'd like to squish her as well as payment."

Though he did his best to mask it, Troy was actually becoming excited over the prospect of having a double macro date with Casey and Gus. "I wonder if she'd let you? I think she really only likes guys crushing her."

"Well, if you're tiny, it's not like you can control who steps on you, right?"

"Well, I guess not. ...But she could cancel the Program if she wanted to. But I guess you can hammer that out with her, if and when this does happen."

"True, true..."

Troy sat up from the mattress. "I wish we could have met up today, though."

Dawn giggled. "Already missing my feet?"

Troy smiled amusingly. "You know it. But like I told you, we were VERY busy today at work, and it's going to stay like that for the rest of the week."

"Aww..." Dawn cooed. "Hang in there, and I'll reward you at the end of the week."

"That'll definitely motivate me. Oh, but before then, I guess we can also have lunch together, too. I mean, if there's room in our schedules."

"I'd love that," Dawn said. "We'll have to coordinate that, though."

"Yeah. A few times, we were so busy that I actually had to work through lunch..."

Their evening conversation continued on.

~~~

(Vince Receives the Email from "Mistress Mash")

"...Okay, I'll do SNL," said Vince, speaking on the phone with his agent as he stepped into his den. "But it had better be worth my while. Oh, and make sure you get me that part in Lee's film, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," the male voice on the other end responded. "I'll get all of that taken care of."

"See that you do." With that, he disconnected the call and moved the phone away from his ear.

He glanced around proudly at his surroundings, his den full of awards, small statues, and pictures and posters bearing his likeness. One picture in particular depicted his meeting with Donald Trump, a rather good friend of his even if he was baffled by his decision to run for President of the United States. Another displayed his arm wrapped around the waist of the model Kate Upton, a blonde beauty whom he has also once convinced to swallow him whole; perhaps he should ring her up again? Her, or another lovely lady he was acquainted with; it was not like he did not have options.

He walked to his desk, upon which his sleek laptop awaited. Sitting into his chair between the desk and the curtained window behind him, he placed his phone onto the wooden surface and rested his briefcase on the carpeted floor besides him, before opening up the computer and logging in.

Though Vince had business to take care of, he figured that it could wait a few minutes. He navigated to his email account--his public email account for his fans--and found its inbox pouring with new messages. Just a normal day, he thought. The subject lines said the usual, with some variation of the fan professing their love for him or being a fan of his works. Some were accompanied by a paperclip icon, noting that the message bore an attachment. If his curiosity got the better of him, he would open one, and only if it was a picture that was attached; in most cases, he was sent photos of women's smiling faces or their bare breasts or both. Occasionally, he would get a photo of their naked crotch, and even more occasionally, a picture or gif of them playing with themselves. He decided to take those as complements.

Scrolling through the list, everything seemed ordinary upon first glance.

However, one certain subject line caught his eye right away, sent from a "Mistress Mash". Tucked between two messages declaring their love for him was one that read: "Hey you, jackass".

He sighed. It was not often that he got hate mail, but it did occur, and while a normal person would likely delete such a message without even opening it, he decided to entertain it. He clicked on it, and was met with a rather hostile message.

"Vince Vane,

A while ago, you said that no self-respecting man would allow himself to be stepped on by a woman. Well, you cocky ignoramus, you are wrong, because my boyfriend not only loves my feet and allows himself to get stepped on by me, but he enjoys it. As do I. And he isn't some creep; he is a very well-adjusted, educated, and nice young man, and I am truly happy to have him in my life. But even he had a hard time finding someone because of you opened your big mouth. ...Actually, I should thank you instead for ultimately bringing the two of us together. I've attached a present to this message. I hope you enjoy it, you vain philanderer."

"Damn," Vince said to himself, almost at a loss of words. "What kind of man would do that? I bet he talked her into sending me this."

He wondered if he should even open the attached picture, or just delete the message in its entirely. However, against his better judgement, his curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked to open the attachment.

What appeared next on his screen disgusted him. "Oh...!!"

The photo was that of the bare soles of a woman. Her feet seems quite large, in fact, the tips of most of her toes were cut off from the upper part of the picture. As if that was not foul enough, on her right foot was a splatter of blood. Looking closely, he could see the crushed body of what looked like an African American man right in the middle of the poll of blood on her foot. In fact, even the woman herself was of African descent, though all that was present in the picture--aside from her nasty feet--was her lean torso, bare except for a blue bra and what looked like a piercing in her navel.

"Oh my fucking god, man!" Vince almost wanted to hurl, as he hurriedly went to not only close the picture, but delete the message; he did not even want to dignify the sender with a response. Even pulling up the email was more attention than they deserved.

"How..." Vince was still in disbelief as he clutched his head in both hands, running his fingers through his short dark hair. "You're with a Black woman; AND you are a Black MAN!!" He ranted. "Why the fuck would you want to play with her feet when her ass is right there!? ...Foot freaks make no sense, I tell you."

Still worked up about it, he closed his mailbox, and then activated the webcam on the laptop.

~~~