Seeing a chair pulled out from under the table, Ted backed himself to the furthest corner and held his breath. The girl gracefully took her seat, folding her patterned skirt under her athletic thighs before scooting back up to the table. Her bent exposed legs suddenly pointed in Ted's direction, plainly visible even in the shadow of the clothen table thanks to Larissa's fair skin tone and the slight sparkle of her nylons.
These garments were a decidedly different shade than the obscuring grey-scale tone she'd worn to church the day before. For Monday, Larissa had selected a nude stocking pair so thin and sheer, it was all but translucent. In fact, Ted might've guessed this was an optical illusion and she'd actually gone commando, if not for the fabric's subtle gleam. Otherwise, the separation between his wandering eyes and Larissa's fabulous gams was nil. Which, by extension, meant Ted would have the cleanest possible view of the girl's ethereal feet, if only she'd notice the heat of the room and get more comfortable.
Ten minutes passed. So far, so good. The girl did seem content with the stuffiness of the space, and didn't yet doff any of her uniform, as taunted the day before. Still, Ted was encouraged by the fact that Larissa was listening to her iPod. It would help mask any ghostly sounds in the room originating from any lurking foot-pervs. Indeed, Ted looked upon himself that way; he even felt guilt for this filthy little venture. Nevertheless, the combination of hormones, repressed fetishes, and desperate need to be near Larissa overpowered that shame. He was here. He had to follow through now.
Once sure that Larissa wasn't budging from her seat, Ted got up the courage to creep closer. An inch at a time, he moved silently over the floor, pulled by gravitational forces toward the object of his fascination and even devotion. Those sheer stockings grew more beautiful around her sporting-sculpted calves and thighs, all framed by the frilly inner stitches of her skirt. Her shoes, Ted now realized, were not high heels or even the more traditional flats many of the Catholic students wore, but stylish leathery black clogs missing the back, which allowed her rounded heel free reign to sift about. This meant removing them would be easier than ever, if only she would do it.
It occurred to Ted that if Larissa ever did directly address him with speech or even her gaze, he'd probably listen to whatever she said, no matter how ridiculous or demanding.
He drew nearer. With one more scoot, he was now in reaching distance. If time were to freeze itself, Ted could lean forward just a few inches and take hold of those glorious shoes, maybe cradling Larissa's nyloned peds on their way to freedom. Instead, he sat perfectly still, hyper-conscious of the fact that if the redhead were to idly kick one of her feet forward, the hardy underbelly of her clog would clock Ted full in the face, revealing his location. The jig would be up, and his life would be over.
Yet Ted had come this far, and there was no turning back.
And then, finally, his patience paid off. Twenty minutes into her solo project study session, Larissa sighed with a singsong wane, wedged her shoes against one another, and simultaneously pried both feet out of the dark mouths of their respective clogs. They clunked softly on the floor, while the prized peds in their sheer velvety prisons came to rest atop the leather maws, gently compressing the overarch down beneath Larissa's supple soles.
Ted was enraptured. This was closer to a religious experience than anything he'd ever gone through in Catholic mass, short of those brief occasions when one of the girls let her shoe droop from a poised toe. His member had become rock-hard in the span of a few seconds, and showed no signs of going down until this situation paid off somehow. It took all his willpower not to reach out and caress Larissa's stocking-encased feet, if not lunge to wrap his lips around the adorable bite-sized digit ends and meaty heel.
Even while half in the dark and seeing them from above, Ted could tell this girl's feet were off the Richter scale. They were flawless in their formation, not too boat-like or stubby, but rather just on the enticing side of large. Her toes were long, but certainly not finger-esque, with pale shafts and pudgy pink dewdrop-shaped tips. The heels, though gently callused from athletic extracurriculars, were worthy of being shown off upon the exposed stage of those backless clogs. And at last her soles, even if still only peeking out when Larissa rocked her feet side to side, had already won Ted over as the best feature on the teenage empress's pretty appendages. They were deeply arched, with a beefy ball-hump at the height of the slope, but swooped deep for the wrinkle-ridden epicenter, where the skin was palest and doughiest.
Ted's pulse stampeded as he used his phone to snap pictures from every angle he dared take. This was even more dangerous than before. If Larissa so much as arched her foot and batted her toes while the boy was capturing the moment, she'd kick the device right out of his hand.
But still, he wanted more. Though Ted would cherish these pictures for a very long time, if not the rest of his life, it wasn't the same as being among Larissa's heavenly feet. Despite the danger and the screaming subconscious voice inside his skull telling him to quit while he was ahead, Ted knew he'd painfully regret not sneaking in close, just for a minute or two. After spending such a long time beside Larissa's luscious legs, he judged her to be a calm and stationary worker. She wasn't going anywhere. So, against better judgment and common sense, the boy laid himself flat on the carpet without making a peep. Then, again an inch at a time, he eased himself under the chair.
With his heart in his throat, Ted came to rest fully beneath the towering throne of his redheaded idol. From here, he had a marvelous view up her checkered skirt as well, which was generally a secondary priority behind the ultimate goal of seeing her feet at play; still, it was an arousing bonus, and Ted indulged in a lingering stare. The fluffy underskirt folds shielding her panties were simply to die for, and the boy longed to further explore, though of course going that far was impossible. These Catholic schoolgirl skirts were practically designed to be difficult to stare upside. Even with that slip divot that ran up the length of its owner's toned leg. Besides, he had all he needed right here on the floor, a few inches from his face.
This was the REAL action.
Minutes passed, far more than the boy intended, but he'd lost all sense of time. Her feet were too hypnotic in their every twitch, shape, and color. The longer he laid here, the more the boy felt as if he wasn't just hiding under Larissa, but looking up to her at the proper scale she deserved to be, in keeping with her larger-than-life personality and royal attitude. As if the girl had assumed a scale massive enough to break through the walls of the school, letting her skirts soar toward the sky, propelled by her continually growing runner's legs, and rooted to the pitiful earth by expanding feet the size of trucks which threatened to rip through the papery nylons at any second.
Squelched air caught in Ted's lungs. He'd scarcely breathed the entire time he lay under Larissa's chair, but only realized now. Trembling, afraid of coughing if too under-oxygenated, the boy opened his mouth to inhale and turned toward his unaware mistress's legs. Just then, she flexed her feet again, reopening the maws of her shoes and smoothing out the loping wrinkles in both her fleshy soles and the well-worn stockings. In that instant, a waft of pungent, stinging air was released in Ted's direction. The moist, mealy stench of Larissa's feet was compounded by the fustiness of the study room, and that unfortunate cloud was gulped down his throat.
The smell was startling in its acidity and zest, even if Ted had to admit he'd have killed for the chance to sniff any of the girls' feet, especially Larissa's. Still, it was simply too much, and in the mind-bending surprise of the moment, the boy flinched hard out of instinct. He reared up, banging his head on the underside of the chair with such force that even the legs of the table were jostled.
Ted went stiff as a board, while Larissa's feet fidgeted to relocate the openings in her clogs. Once she'd politely reinserted her peds inside their leather habitats, she pushed back her chair away from the table. The skirt flapped Monroe-style, those shimmering stockinged legs parted, and the inquisitive redhead was staring directly at the intruder between her shoes.