Me and Yvonne, Part 2
(Published on Friday, February 25, 2005)
This story was submitted anonymously by Karen.

To read the 1st part of this story, click Me and Yvonne, Part 1.

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As previously quoted in Me and Yvonne, Part 1 ...

As I laid in bed with Yvonne, I felt I had to come clean, and told her that I was worried that I could only have an orgasm if her feet were involved. It was a dangerous confession, and she could have freaked out, but she just smiled and said, "As long as it's just MY feet."

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"So you don"t think it's weird?"

"No. I think it's hot," she smiled. Yvonne was always the wild one. She liked the newest music, the newest clothes, the newest drinks, the newest drugs. She traveled a lot and partied with a lot of wild people. I often wondered if she had ever been to bed with another woman.

"Don"t worry, you"re not the first," she said, confirming my suspicions.

"So you"ve slept with a woman…you know… who liked your feet?" I stuttered, trying not to describe myself as a freak as best as possible.

"It's called a foot fetish, and it wasn"t with another woman. In fact, I don't know any other women who have one."

"Have one? It sounds like a disease. Could we call it something else?"

"What's wrong with foot fetish? It's so… sexy… so… OBSESSIVE. I LIKE obsessive when it comes to sex. Fetishes are hot."

"It makes me feel like a freak," I said angrily.

There was a long silence as I pondered a new life as a wild, obsessive, sex thing hanging out in fetish bars and doing drugs. I stood up and started pacing, naked, afraid of the me that Yvonne uncovered. Then I thought that if she just held her foot out from the covers to call me back to bed with her toes, I"d do anything she wanted. Shit, she was right! I was obsessed! I would do ANYTHING for her FEET.

"Maybe you should leave," Yvonne said with a changed and less romantic tone of voice. "Your husband probably misses you."

"No, no," I said pleading.

"Yes. You're not ready. I shouldn't have rushed you."

Yvonne didn"t meet me at the gym on Monday or all the next week, and I finally called to ask if she was mad at me. She said she wasn't mad, but that she needed some time away from me to think. My dreams continued. Out of desperation, I called her again, days later, and BEGGED her to meet me for a drink.

She strutted into the bar wearing a leather jacket, tight t-shirt with no bra, leather miniskirt, fishnets, and knee-high stiletto-heeled black leather boots with straps over the instep and ankle, and up the leg. We sat at the bar and talked as if nothing had happened last week. Her boots, as interesting as they were, sealed her feet away from me so well that I didn"t have trouble ignoring them. I was able to act normal, but I could tell I was boring her, and I sensed that after she finished her drink she was going to leave. I was right, and she said she was getting tired as she got up to go. I asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. We can be friends. Have a drink now and then, you know." She lit a cigarette without looking at me. "But I"ve got a big day tomorrow, and I'm getting tired."

"I want to be more," I urged as I grabbed her wrist.

"You don't want it enough."

"I do. I love you. I'm… obsessed with you. I am. I'll do anything."

She thought for a few moments, then wrote an address on a napkin and said, "I"ll be at the bar. You don't know me. You"ll have to pick me up," she whispered in my ear and then walked out.

I panicked. I'd never picked ANYONE up in my entire life. I tried to think of what to say as I finished my drink. I was not good at this.

It was a martini bar with the sounds of Miles Davis wafting through the air with the smoke. Yvonne was sitting at the bar with her coat thrown over the chair next to her, hopefully saving it for me. I approached her and tried one of my lines.

"Sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help admiring your boots," I said. Yvonne's eyes lit up and I continued, "They"re very sexy."

"Thank you," she said politely, and then explained where she got them, and what brand they were. It was a very expensive Italian brand that I never heard of, and they cost way more than a hair dresser should spend. "What do you like about them?" she asked.

"They accentuate the smallness of your feet while giving you a powerful bearing. What size are they?"

"Six," she said, but pronounced it "sex" while exhaling smoke.

"Comfortable?" I said with a half-smile to acknowledge that I heard her play on words.

"Not at all."

"Worth it?" I chuckled.

"That remains to be seen," and she glanced at the seat next to her.

"Oh, you"re with someone, I"m sorry," I said acting disappointed, touching her jacket.

"No," she said, offering me the chair. "That's mine. I don"t like people sitting next to me." Then she smiled and said, "Unless they like my boots."

We both laughed and after we introduced ourselves using false names, I, "Jana," offered to buy "Tess" a drink.

"Dirty martini. Grey Goose. You really DO like my boots, huh?" she smiled.

"I guess I have a bit of a shoe fetish," I chuckled. It sounded so much more fashionable and less perverted than "foot fetish."

"I hear that," she said, exhaling smoke upward as she smiled.

"Too bad the sexier they are, the more painful they are," I said.

"The pain just accentuates the pleasure at having them taken off," she said, leaning in, looking at me with one raised eyebrow. Her voice lad a low, insistent, confidential quality.

She got me. I don't really have a shoe fetish, and I had been doing really well with my composure, but now she was hinting that she would love it if I took her boots off, and I could feel myself getting really turned-on. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I pretended to watch the bartender make the drinks while my mind reeled. When the drinks came I finally looked at her.

"What should we drink to?" Yvonne asked, raising her glass. I was still flustered, and she said, "I know. Here's to my boots, and their ability to make me look powerful, and… what else?"

"Accentuate the smallness of you feet," I added, nervously.

Yvonne smiled at my reaction and said, "You like small feet?"

"Very much," I said, looking at her confidently even though my heart was fluttering.

"Hmmmm," she said with sly look as she turned away from me to sip her martini. But her seductive eyes never left me.

"I might have a bit of a FOOT fetish too," I said, and forced myself not to giggle.

"Might?"

"Well, Sometimes. Depends on the mood, and… you know… the company. So not all the time." I gulped my martini to hide my nervousness.

"Tonight?"

"That remains to be seen," I said, using her own tease against her. I was proud of myself even though I was shaking.

Yvonne smiled, acknowledging my touché, then took control again by extending her foot into my lap with a sly grin and saying, "How's it going so far?"

My pride in my cleverness vanished as I touched her foot with shaking hands. I fondled it nervously, revealing the excitement that I felt as my hands explored the shapes of her curvaceous, small foot and the smoothness of the leather. Soon I was massaging her foot through the boot sensuously, and Yvonne was sighing softly in pleasure, encouraging me. I didn't need to say a word.

After awhile, Yvonne said, "I would really like to get out of these boots. Would you like to help me?"

"More than anything," I exclaimed softly, squeezing her foot for emphasis.

"Meet me in the ladies room," she whispered, and after she finished her drink she pulled her foot out of my hands and walked off.

She locked the door behind me and kissed me, gently at first, then passionately with tongues and groping and grunting and panting. She leaned back against the wall and pushed me down to my knees, placing her booted foot on my shoulder. I kissed her foot as I massaged and fondled it passionately.

"Mmmm," she sighed. "I like that. Use your tongue."

I started licking the leather of her instep from ankle to toes as I fumbled with the buckles on her boot. It was so kinky, but so unbelievably hot!

"Now use you tongue here," I heard Yvonne say, and when I looked up she had her miniskirt raised. She wasn't wearing panties. Just garters. She just looked at me with total confidence that I would do ANYTHING she wanted, including THAT. I had never done THAT before, but she knew I would do anything for her. Yvonne got off fast, so I guess I did it right.

As soon as she was done, she checked herself in the mirror and walked off silently with only a sly smile as she unlocked the door.

"That was it?" I thought. "She seduced me into getting her off in the ladies room and now we're done?" She was really messing with my mind. I walked back out to the bar in a daze, and Yvonne was putting her jacket on, getting ready to leave. I felt totally used and confused.

"You look like a lost puppy," she said with a chuckle. Then she leaned in and whispered, "I had to see how serious you were. I don't just let anybody take my boots off." Then she kissed me and said, "If you still want to, let's go."