Her cunt had been waxed, leaving only a V of black hair that pointed to the top of her slit. Her dark hair was covered by a colorful headscarf, a vest...ge of her modest Muslim upbringing. “I need a foot rub, Thamina,” I said. “Oh, absolutely, Mistress,” Thamina excitedly answered and knelt down and started to massage my right foot with rigid pressure. “You're pretty good at that,” I murmured. “Oh, thank you, I used to give my husband footrubs,” Thamina replied. “You're married?” I asked in. I jump up from the couch and head to the bathroom, still trying to Mission Impossible my way through the house. I slip on a loose, thin sweater as quietly as possible. I want to see Eugene. I know I have shit to work through right now, but I don’t care. I realize I feel like a teenager again as I fix my makeup. Sneaking out to be with a boy. I'm...happy, and I just go with it as I slip on my sneakers, snag my keys and phone and leave. A text with directions and 15 minutes later, I'm pulling up. More

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