Nice has Nothing to Do with It (Patreon)

Copyright © 2022 by EggWhites

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Story synopsis: Jenna, twenty-four, alone and unable to find a job, finds herself homeless. Still struggling with the fact that she has to go to her sister hat in hand, she finds herself a savoir, who happens to be the nicest girl she ever met. It doesn't take her much time to figure out that nice has nothing to do with it.

Hope you like it, happy reading.

EggWhites.

I walked up the stairs heading to my apartment. I started tiptoeing once I’d reached the third floor. The bastard’s door was open, and I knew his ears were on full attention, waiting for me to get home. He’d been bugging me for his precious rent forever. As if the twerp didn’t understand the meaning of a recession.

Luckily, I reached my floor without him noticing. As I walk along the corridor to my apartment, my face bearing a sly look of victory, I halt. In front of my door were two suitcases, both mine. It took me a while to realize: the son of a bitch evicted me. He even went as far as to pack my suitcases for me.

I walked back, this time stomping towards his apartment and slammed my hand a couple times on his open door. He came to the front door after a while, his face faintly smirking. He disgusted me, this guy. He was always in his little white, yellow-stained tank top, leaving half his hair chest and the lower part of his big belly on display for lucky me.

“Hey Jen.” He leaned with his hand on the door frame, and I took a step back from his stench.

“Don’t Jen me.” I wiggled my head aggressively. “What is my stuff doing at my door?”

“You mean to tell me you have my rent?” He smirked and opened his palm to me, as if he already knew the answer.

“I told you I’ll get it in a couple of days.”

“Well it has been a couple of weeks. What you think I’ll play mouse and cat with you forever.” He scoffed, and my aggressiveness went a bit soft. “You have my rent or what?”

“Look just give me a couple—”

“Bitch get the hell outta here.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“I can’t, okay. I have nowhere to go,” I said, “you know that.” The embarrassment of my pleading didn’t escape me. To have to plead with someone you despise, really takes a kick at your dignity. “Come on please?”

He sighed, taking his time, as he looked at me thoughtfully, barely able to keep the smirk off his face. He was loving this. The desperation on my face turned to hope, then he said, “I mean… My offer from last time still stands.”

My brown eyes narrowed and my face shrunk in disgust and anger both. What I was about to do would probably be unwise. But I had told him what would happen if he ever made a request like that again. It was only right I follow up on my threat.

I nodded, watching a sly smile climb up his sweaty face. I took a step back, dragged my leg back then shot my sneakered foot forward, hitting him right in the groin.

“Ahh—” He shouted as he kneeled, his hands holding his crotch. “Fuck—Bitch.”

I left him on the ground and went up to gather my suitcases. As I walked down the stairs dragging them behind me, the turd-bag who was still kneeling at the ground warned, “You better not come back here.” I was about to go out the building, when my eyes randomly glanced in his apartment. The side table just beside the door had a green bill on it. While he still laid there in pain, I stepped over him, grabbed the twenty bucks, then stepped back and got out of the building.

From here, there was only one logical place for me to go.

I brought my glass of bourbon to my mouth and took a gulp, only to realize it was empty. So I slammed it back on the bar and my eyes instinctively started looking for Rayan. There he was.

“Ray,” I said, putting as much friendliness into my drunken tone as I could.

He sighed, looking down at the glass he’s wiping. “Yeah Jen?”

“Can I have a refile?”

“Depends.” He said, hunkering over the bar and narrowing his eyes at me. “You gonna pay for that one.” He nodded towards my empty glass.

“Sure…” I said, nodding, smiling.

He didn’t move a muscle, just stood there and looked at me, waiting.

“Come on…” I whined. “Where’s the trust we used to have huh.”

“Where’s the money?”

“Put it on my tap.”

“Honey do I look stupid to you.” He said. “Either pay for this one so I could hand you another. Or piss off. I have customers.” He turned towards a pair of girls who sat at a couple of seats to my left.

“I have customers.” I couldn’t help mocking, but he ignored me.

I rested my elbows on the bar and laid my face in my palms, taking a moment. For a while I wished there was anything in my suitcases expensive enough to trade for a drink. I paid for two glasses already, and got away with a free one, but I needed a fourth, maybe a fifth. I was probably gonna sleep on the street tonight, and didn’t want to do that conscious. Or maybe I’d fall asleep right here and Rayan would feel bad for me, keep me till the morning. He was a good guy; after all the free drinks I bunked out of him, he still didn’t make me pay in advance.

A year ago I thought that I hit rock bottom. But the following year showed me how wrong I was to think that. At least then I had a job, lived in an apartment that didn’t smell like piss, had a couple of friends. Only reason it had felt like rock bottom then, was cause I hated my job and that the big load of money I had started running out quicker than anticipated.

After getting myself fired from the job, and after what remained of my money completely ran out, I started living on friends’ couches—the friends that I had spent that big load of money with. Each one tolerated me for a couple of weeks then came up with some bullshit excuse, like in-laws coming to visit or sisters or boyfriends moving in. Last one was honest though, she just told me to piss off and that she wasn’t my mother. She suggested I go to my sisters, but she knew I would never do that—cause fuck my sister.

I whined through my palms. I hated the fact I may have to go to her now, hat in hand. But I didn’t have much of a choice now did I. Finding a job was a lost cause; I spent the last four months trying. And I literally had nowhere else to go.

I heard some glasses being placed somewhere in front of me, and I knew that was Rayan working. “Ray…” I whined, with my face still in palms.

I heard him sigh. “What?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“So you could rob me.” He snickered. “Not a chance.”

I held my heavy head up and looked at him, an innocent pout on my face. “Give me Scotch on the rocks then.”

“Jen I swear to god—” He shook his head, raising a finger. “And what the hell are you still doing here. Thought I told you to leave?”

“Thought you were kidding.”

He winced, “Bitch get the hell out of here.”

“FINE.” I said, genuinely upset and hurt. Being thrown out of two places in the same night didn’t make me feel that well, neither the fact that I had finally managed to irritate the nicest, calmest guy I knew. I grabbed my two suitcases and went out the door.

The bar was in an alley. A shady ally that didn’t look that nice. This really wasn’t the best neighborhood. I would’ve been nervous, that was if I had something worth stealing. My messy blonde hair and cheap ragged blouse and jeans, and probably my face and the sight of me drunkenly staggering alone must’ve said it all: No money. No valuable belongings. And no home. A complete homeless girl at the age of twenty-six. My life was officially fucked.

I could feel some of the bourbon numbing me, not as much as I hoped for, but it made me feel a bit less shitty about my situation.

I hadn’t yet gotten ten meters away from the bar, when my eyes lit up at spotting a lonely girl walking down from the opposite direction. She was young, had long black hair that ran over her shoulders, wore a workout black hoodie and black shorts that reached down just above her knees. As she walked closer, my studying, drunken eyes quickly snapped to the lovely pair of AirPods in her ears; iPhone AirPods. I could recognize them a mile away.

There was a skill—if one could call it that—I wasn’t that proud of but didn’t shy away from using every now and then, whenever the situation called for it. It was…basically scaring people into giving me money. It wasn’t mugging. Mugging included violence. I wouldn’t do that, of course.

I always played the part perfectly. I’d be drunk and dragging my feet drunkenly along the street, and apparently, my sight would be worrying enough so that the victim would spare me ten or twenty bucks. If not, I always had my little toy as extra encouragement.

Last time I did it, it was with this guy and his girlfriend. They looked posh, not from around here. I just approached them, which immediately put them at unease for some reason. Next I told them I needed ten bucks to get home. They tried walking past me, ignoring me, so I got into their way, blocking them. They held their ground, the guy saying he didn’t have any to spare and the girl just watching, her nervousness obvious. Eventually, I—unfortunately—had to take out my toy. That got the brunet beauty to go nuts and tug her boyfriend’s arm like a little girl and tell him to just give me some damn money—luckily not directing any of her speech to me, which would’ve made me shy away a bit.

The girl in front of me now didn’t seem like she’d be a harder challenge than them. Easier, even. I bet, if she was extra wimpy, I could get her to give me those lovely pair of AirPods. Hell, maybe her phone to go with it. If sold, it could buy me a month’s rent somewhere—somewhere shitty, but still. Probably a couple bottles of Whisky too. I only worried about the fact that I had never pulled this trick on a girl before, as I always found it a bit harder to even talk to them if I didn’t know them well, especially if they were a cute little thing like this one. But like hell this would stop me now. I grinned, feeling the booze accompanied by adrenaline rushing through me and pushing me forward.

“Hey there girly.” I approached her slowly.

She halted, kept her hands in her hoodie’s pockets, and looked at me. “…Hey.” She said, taking one earphone off. She just stood still. I could tell she was nervous.

“Where you going?” I asked.

She just narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow, like she was telling me ‘what kind of question was that?’ It was a stupid a question, just trying to pave the way.

I took a step closer. “Lovely headphones you have there.”

“Yeah…So?” She said, tilting her head, her eyes still aggressively narrowing at me.

Something told me the AirPods were a lost cause. I only did this thing like three times before. The girl in front of me now didn’t seem as passive, or as soft as I initially thought. But I could still probably get some money out of her and go back to the bar, buy myself a beer.

She shook her head dismissively then tried to walk past me, so I stepped in her way. “Hey hey…” I drawled. “Why the rush?” We were awfully close now, and my confidence peaked at noticing I was a bit taller than her. I was 5 foot 5. She was probably an inch or two shorter. I wouldn’t lay a hand on her, but, the idea was that should think I would.

I looked straight in her green eyes. She looked impatient, not scared. “You need something?” She sighed.

“Just need a twenty.”

“Can’t help you.”

“Then a ten.”

“Can’t. Help. You.”

“Come on girl,” I stepped closer, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Help a sister out.”

“How about you get your filthy hand off my shoulder.” She smiled sarcastically.

“…” The insult offended me, surprisingly. Her tone in general. It was like she was disgusted by me. Which was maybe understandable, but, it still hurt? “Or what?” I said, inching closer, not removing my hand.

Both of us just stood there, holding eye contact. My anger showed on my face clearly. After a while, she just, shook her head with a snicker, then walked past me, causing my hand to slip. I stood there, not planning to go after her. Bitch looked ready to fight, and I had no intention to do that, even if I could somehow kick her ass in my drunken state.

She walked away. “Loser.”

I turned abruptly upon hearing the word, feeling my face burn with anger. “HEY.” I shouted. I so didn’t like that word.

She halted, not turning to face me, and I could see her shoulder rise and fall as she sighed, as if I was boring her. She turned on her heel. I walked a couple of steps in her direction. “What did you call me?”

“Loser.” She said, her face cold, but with the faintest amused smile on her lips.

Just like that I hated the bitch’s guts. My hand instinctively reached into my back pocket and took out my knife. I held it forward in front of my chest, aiming it at her.

Her face fell in obvious fear as her eyes settled on the knife in my hand. She was afraid now, and the fact filled me with joy. “Say that again. Bitch,” I said.

Her eyes snapped back to my face. I didn’t know if it was anger or utter fear inside them. I took my chances and inched closer. Her poster changed, weirdly. She was wearing flip-flops, and for some reason, shifted one foot forward, keeping the other behind, and positioned one arm in front of her chest.

“Okay…” I chuckled, shaking my head. I took a step closer to her. “Give me a ten or we’re gonna have a problem—”

I saw her turn, then quickly turn back, with her leg raised and her foot high. I didn’t really understand what happened at that moment. My brain vibrated inside my skull, the side of my face felt like it wasn’t there, and the other side stung like there was a hot plate pushing against it. My vision went black for a second, and when I opened my eyes again, I felt dizzy from the view. The world was sideways. It took me a moment to realize I was lying belly down on the ground.

Feeling my whole head throbbing, I tried to get up, only to have something rubbery pin my cheek down to the harsh asphalt. It took me a moment to realize that what was rubbing against my cheek, holding me in place, was the rubber sole of her flip-flop. To hold me down, the bitch chose to use her foot of all things to step on my face of all places. She wasn’t stepping that harshly, but it still hurt, especially with the bad stony asphalt rubbing against my other cheek.

“Fucking bitch—Aw.”

She applied more pressure, making me cry out. My face reddened with anger first, and then with humiliation when I saw a couple of guys walking past us, their eyes, merely interested and a bit amused, moving between me and her; they didn’t look like they were gonna intervene though.

“…Step off.” I said.

“So you could stab me.” After a brief silence, she said. “I think I’m calling the cops.”

I was surprised by how little I gave a fuck about her threat. But I still cared enough to tell her the truth. “Look it’s not even real, okay…” I muttered with my lips pursed.

If she was confused, I didn’t see it. After a moment, she crouched, still using my damn face as a step, and snatched the knife that had fallen an arm away from me. It was one of those plastic knives which had a blade that slips inside its handle; it couldn’t stab shit. She probably realized that, as I heard her give an amused sigh above me.

“You’re a joke you know that.” she said, a bit of harbored resentment in her tone. I heard something break, then saw my little toy tumble to the ground broken into two parts.

Knife was gone, I wasn’t dangerous anymore, and still she kept me under there. I didn’t find the power in me to protest. I was humiliated, yes, but I didn’t think asking her politely to step off my head again would help my dignity at this point. And on top all of that, something was keeping me strangely still and calm, a weird feeling that I didn’t understand. It might be the booze rushing through me, or the fact that I had just had my brain almost kicked out of my skull, but deep in my stomach I felt a soothing throb. And it made me anxious, feeling a good thing while being in such a miserable situation.

But fortunately, I didn’t get to freak out about it for long, as the girl, finally, took her foot off. My palm instinctively went to feel my face. God. I could feel the imprint of her sole on my cheek. I straightened up, kneeling on the street with my legs tucked under me. I didn’t want to look at her face I was so embarrassed, but I forced myself to anyway.

She gave me an unimpressed look. I foolishly hopped she’d give me a hand. She didn’t, of course. She just shook her head at me, her eyes not able to hide her disdain, then she turned on her heel and walked away, putting her headphones back on.

I hated her so much I wanted to run and jump her. But I knew she didn’t deserve it. If anything, she let me off lightly, considering what I had done. She could’ve kicked my ass—should’ve, maybe.

I stayed on the ground, for some reason. I didn’t want to get up. It was like this incident was the cherry on top of my fucked-up life. I heard some footsteps inching in my direction, and I looked up to see Ray above me.

“You alright?” he said, tilting his head at me empathetically.

I shrugged, and I could feel my eyes burning before they grew red.

He sighed. “Come on.” He reached with his hand to help me up, and I took it.

It was about an hour later. Bar was closed, and me and Rayan sat in the corner table, him drinking a beer, me a coffee—cause according to him I had enough beer for one day.

“So what are you gonna do now?” he said.

“…Rob a bank, I think.”

“Yeah.” He snickered. “Like you just robbed that girl.”

“Fuck you—” I brushed him off. “Such a bitch.” I rubbed my cheek. The print of her flip-flop’s sole hadn’t left my cheek until recently. And the whole side of my face still throbbed. It was as if she’d slammed me with a steel baseball bat.

“You did raise a knife at her.” He took a sip from his beer. “I told you not to do that shit anymore.”

“I don’t do it that often.”

“Three times are often enough. To be honest part of me was…a small part…was amused at seeing you get yours.”

The frown on my face made him chuckle. “What! I said a small part.”

That wasn’t what bothered me. “You were watching the whole time?”

“I was gonna intervene…really.” He nodded. “But then I decided against it after she went Jaki Chan on your ass.”

“Puft…” I rolled my eyes. “Sissy.”

He giggled, then looked at me passively, as if waiting for me to answer the previous question seriously. I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

“Your sister’s?”

“I thought about it, but she’ll probably not let me stay for more than a couple of days, and honestly, it won’t be worth the amount of shit she’ll give me.”

He nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“God.” I run my palms over my face, truly lost. “All I need is a job.”

“We’re in a recession.” He shrugged, looking away. “And frankly, your chances wouldn’t be that great even if we weren’t.”

I waited for him to say the words I was waiting to hear. Then I waited more then I lost hope. So I said mine, “I can work for you agai—”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Ray come on.” I whined. “I’m desperate here.”

“Sorry.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“Was I really that bad?”

“…Yes you were.” His eyes narrowed. “And don’t pretend like you forgot what you did.”

“…” The convection in his eyes forced my eyes to flick away in shame. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s pretty assuring but… I’ll pass.”

“…” He had every right, and I felt pathetic and evil at the same time insisting, but I had no choice. “We’re friends. Come on give me another chance—”

“Enough.” He said, coldly, but firmly. “You robbed me. I forgave you. I really did. But that doesn’t mean I’ll hire you.”

That squashed what little hope I had left. And it must’ve showed on my face, because his cold face turned empathetic, as he leaned forward and gave my arm a gentle stroke. “Look, you’ll figure it out. If you want I’ll drive you the bus station tomorrow so that you can go to your sister’s. You can crash here tonight.”

Even though I was expecting it, it still lifted a weight off my shoulders; I had a place to sleep, at least for tonight. “Thanks.”

He nodded, then rose to his feet.

“You’re leaving?” hiding my joy behind an indifferent face.

“No.” He said, smiling, like he knew what I was thinking. “I’ll sleep in the office. And I’ll lock the doors if you don’t mind.”

I nodded. He didn’t trust me with neither the liquor nor the register. He was smart.

Next Day

It was 1 p.m., and I was preparing myself to leave the bar—meaning I was sat on the table in the corner sipping on the last drink that Ray had generously gifted me: strawberry juice. I didn’t mind. He said that I better reach my sister’s with a clear head, and I agreed. If she saw the slimiest sign of me being drunk—or worse high—I’d be domed.

I’d been prolonging going out the door since the afternoon. I really hated that I was forced to go to her now. She would probably not help me, and even if she did, she’d surely have her fun with it.

I sighed, looking down at what remained of my drink, determined that I’d finish it and head out the door. The door opened, so I looked towards it. It took me a moment to register in the face of the person who walked in, and my eyes widened when I did. It was her.

My face screwed in anger, as my first impulse was to go give the broad an earful. But of course, I repressed it. I had no right.

My eyes trailed her as she stood in front of the bar and asked Rayan for a drink. She wore a loose cyan t-shirt, a pair of gray joggers with their bottom hem pulled to her shins, and a pair of black converse shoes. My eyes, amused and a bit envious, paused at her legs for a moment, then moved to her upper body. Broad was fit. Not overly fit, not masculine.

As I was setting in the corner behind her to the left, I could only get a glimpse of her face while she waited for her drink. Rayan gave me a wide-eyed look as he prepared it. And all I could think was ‘don’t look at me you idiot.’ She turned sideways randomly—but probably cause of his little sneaky look—and her eyes wondered around for a bit before she noticed me. She paused for a split second, then turned back to the bar. Her face really held a don’t-fuck-with-me look, which, combined with her body, should’ve served as a warning for me yesterday.

Ray gave her a drink, a polite smile on his face—or maybe he was just resisting to laugh. She grabbed it and walked to the left side of the bar, my side. I busied myself with my strawberry and looked down, a bit anxious about meeting her eye. I heard her walk to one of the tables and grab a seat. I looked up, she was sitting two tables ahead of me, and she caught my eye again. I looked away first.

I grew anxious thinking about what was running through her head. Was she expecting an apology? Probably not; I was the one with a still sore jaw.

But something made me want to go up there and just say hi, as in ‘hi let’s forget I tried to rob you with a plastic knife.’ I was feeling a bit guilty about that, even though she’d gotten more than even with me. A way to put it behind me, I suppose.

I took a deep breath then walked to her table. She saw me getting close, and when I reached her, she leaned back, her arms crossed under her chest, and raised an eyebrow, and my knees felt weak.

“Hi.” I smiled nervously.

For some reason that caused her to smile too. She tilted her head. “Hey.” She narrowed her eyes in confusion as I went silence not knowing what to say next. “What? need another ten bucks?” she gave her dangling foot a slight blow forward, imitating a kick.

“No please,” I half-chuckled, holding my hands a bit forward jokingly. “I’ll pass thanks.”

She nodded. Her face was friendly, then it got a bit confused again, waiting for me to say something, all the while I stood there cracking my knuckles nervously like a mute idiot.

I didn’t know why, but ever since my childhood, I had a slight but still fucking annoying anxiety when it came to talking to girls, especially pretty young ones like the one in front of me now. It was a pain that I had gotten used to. But it certainly wasn’t helping my case now.

“Wow.” She nodded with a smile. “You really suck at this.”

“At what?” I said eagerly, happy that she’d said something and didn’t leave me hanging there.

“Apologizing.” She said. “That’s what you’re trying to do…” her lips pursed. “Right?”

Not really, not exactly. But I didn’t want to disappoint her. she seemed friendly. “Yeah.” I let out a shaky exhale as I nodded. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve given one.” Embarrassment reddened my cheeks, especially that, judging by her smooth clear face, I was probably the older one between the two of us. I was five or six years older than her at least. She looked in her early twenties, maybe 21, though she acted a bit older.

With that, I went into another phase of silence, and thankfully this time she didn’t have the patience to wait, so she just sighed and said, “Anyway. No worries. You were obviously drunk. You maybe have a lot going on. Still not an excuse…but whatever.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” I said. “And you’re right. Not an excuse.”

She nodded, then nodded, then nodded, then I was still there. “Anything else?” She smiled.

“Nop.” I said, then turned around to walk back to my table, but she stopped me midway.

“Those yours?”

I looked back at her, and she was looking questionably at the suitcases near my table. “Yeah,” I said.

“…Moving out?”

“Emmm.” I thought about an accurate description of my messed-up living arrangement. “Evicted, actually.”

Her eyebrows rose, and she bit her lower lip as if she was thinking. “Wanna sit down?” She prodded her shoe against the chair across from her.

There really wasn’t a good reason for me to do that, one that I knew about anyway. There wasn’t a good reason to refuse either. So I pulled the seat in front of her and sat down. Suddenly self-conscious about my state, I wrapped my hands around my arms. Hair messy. Unwashed clothes ruffled. And whole me probably stank of both booze and sweat. I couldn’t have been a pleasant sight to look at. But she gave me a slight friendly smile, as if to tell me to relax. I did.

“So, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Jena,” I said. “You?”

“Kristen.” She said, “Kris.”

I nodded, then looked at her cup. A white cup with some black inside it. “That coffee?”

She looked down then giggled. “Yeah.”

“Coming to a bar and ordering a coffee?”

“The closest decent coffee shop is twenty minutes farther from here. And this one is like half the price. So I like to work here.” She nodded at the big tablet on her table. “It’s uncrowded at this hour.”

The fact that she worked surprised me. “How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“Holy shit you look younger.”

“So they tell me.” She shrugged, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “You?”

I was about to answer, when instead I said, with a jokingly shy expression, “Guess.” For some reason, I wanted to her an answer, an estimate.

“…Emm.” She pursed her lips, wiggling her head. “Mid-thirties…” She smiled politely upon seeing my suddenly dull reaction. “Early…thirties.”

“Twenty-six.” I rolled my eyes. I shouldn’t have been offended, since I had asked for it. But I was.

She nodded, seeming to notice the slight awkwardness that fell upon our conversation. “You look much younger.” She smiled awkwardly.

“Shut up…” I chuckled, brushing her off. “It’s okay.” My eyes wondered around her, taking in the details of her face. She looked so…good. She was beautiful. Her hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, looking shiny and healthy with a rich black color. Her face features were delicate, her nose sharp and thin, her lips slightly plump, and her eyes green and circled by a thin line of black eyeliner that contrasted beautifully with her white skin. She didn’t wear makeup beyond that, to my knowledge at least, not that she needed any.

I grew aware of my staring and stopped, then realized she had been staring at me silently, and for a second I wondered if she was doing the same, noticing my pale color and my wrinkled forehead and messed-up blonde hair.

She gave the moment some time to pass before she said. “Have anything planned?”

I thought about that. She probably wanted to stay a little longer. I didn’t have any plans. Only thing that was left for me to do was go to my sister’s, and I’d take any chance to prolong that. “Not really.”

With that, she bought me a drink, a coffee like hers. I didn’t like that she chose for me, but it was free, and besides, it was 12 p.m., I didn’t feel that confident telling her I preferred a whisky.

As more people kept filling up the bar then leaving it, we stayed here, sitting and chatting. She wasn’t a talker. Well, she was. She basically managed the conversation, but I was the one doing most of the talking, as she kept asking me one question after the other. For a moment there I felt like I was being interviewed. I told her about how I lost my job, how my money ran out, how I had no place to go but my sister’s now, and that I wasn’t particularly fond about the fact. She asked me why I and my sister were on the outs. I lied, saying we just didn’t get along that well. I was pretty honest with her, but I couldn’t be honest with her about that. Truth was, my sister hated my guts.

When my mother died, she left us some money. Not a lot, but it was something. Me having been me at that time, I blew my money in a matter of months. Right now I didn’t remember on what. Clothes and jewelry that I had now sold most of. Parties with friends that wouldn’t even acknowledge me anymore. And drinks that made me enjoy the whole thing while it lasted. Now, short story was, after I blew mine, I told my sister I had an idea of a business and I wanted her to contribute if she liked, and she, oblivious to the fact that I had less than 400$ to my name and she having been naïve enough to trust her big sister, contributed with a big chunk of her share, and I blew it the same was I blew mine.

Now I had reasons for being a bitch. I was young dumb and stupid. But I doubted any of those would mean anything to the girl sitting in front of me. The fact she was two years younger only made me feel more envious, and ashamed, about how good she seemed to be doing. I mean, she clearly had money. Her clothes didn’t look from any ridiculously expensive brand or anything, nothing like the ones I so stupidly used to buy in tons. Hers were just…high quality. Her phone and tablet looked like some fancy shit too. And she had that… comfortable, relaxed aura to her, the kind that people who live from paycheck to paycheck didn’t have.

“So.” She stretched, looking around the bar. “Holy shit. What time is it—” She said before looking at her phone. “Nice. We’ve been talking for like…three hours.”

“My god.” I said, truly surprised. Time flew.

“Anyway.” She said, “So how… unexcited are you…about going to your sister.”

“…Very.” I widened my eyes while juggling the coffee inside my cup. “And honestly I’m not sure if she’ll even open the door, let alone help me or allow me to stay.”

“Jeez.” Kris’s brows arched, before she narrowed her eyes at me, giving me a slight smile. “What’d you do to the poor girl? Come on confess.”

“Nothing…” I whined. “She just… nothing. We were never close that’s all.”

She kept her eyes on me for a moment, before she looked away, looking only partially satisfied with my answer. She got silent for a minute, her chin probed on her palm as she stared into her cup of coffee, and looked deep in thought.

“Okay…” She turned her head up, like she had made an important decision. “This’ll sound a bit… weird. But… would you consider living with me?”

The question slapped me to alert. What? “…You’re asking me to live with you?” I said, confused, before I added. “Girl who tried to rob you.”

“Well, judging by the red spot on your chin, I’d say that we’re even.”

More than even, actually. She must’ve kept me under her foot for like a minute after it was perfectly clear I was no threat at all; she didn’t have to do that. But I wasn’t about to point that out to her. I leaned back a bit, trying to take it all in. “…You live alone?”

She nodded.

Should’ve guessed.

She was maybe dumber than I thought. I was pretty sure I had made it clear in my answers that I didn’t have two pennies to rub together. “But… I don’t have any money?”

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “You’ll start paying me back once you get a job.”

“I’ve been searching for months.” I shrugged, trying to ignore my confusion about why she was offering me this. “And it’s not like the economy or this shitty town is getting any better. It can be ages before I get a job.”

She pursed her lips, almost seeming irritated that I was questioning her offer. Her lips thinned in a slight smile before she shrugged. “I have no problem with that. We’ll figure it out.”

All of her previous questions suddenly made sense to me; it sounded like an interview, because it was basically an interview, based on which she decided if she wanted to let me into her home or not. But this still made no sense. And frankly, I was excited, but at the same time worried. “Come on…” I gave her a knowing smile. “What are you a saint. Where’s the catch?”

She kept a straight face for a bit, before she grinned at me and looked down at the table. “Okay,” She said. “I’ll be expecting you to… I don’t know… take care of the apartment, amongst other stuff.”

I nodded, having had expected such a thing. “So… a maid, not a roommate.”

“No…” she brushed me off. “Not a maid. Just… you know… pick after yourself…” She glanced away. “And me.”

“That’s a maid.”

“…” She shrugged, glancing away from me then back. “You’ll have a place to live.”

I looked away and kept my offended feelings to myself. She must’ve thought I was desperate; she wasn’t wrong. Her offer still annoyed me though, so much that I wanted to tell her to piss off, but of course I didn’t.

Having chatted with Kris for hours, I could tell that the girl seemed nice. But I really didn’t know her; she could still be a complete snob. As much as I hated it, it was probably better to give my sister a shot first. Besides, I knew myself; I felt depressed at jobs that were a lot less embarrassing and humbling than picking up after a another, younger girl.

“Will you give me a minute?” I rose to my feet, and she nodded. I excused myself and walked to the left side of the bar, where Rayan kept his phone. I dialed my sister number, and waited as the buzzing sound went on and off, until she finally answered.

“Hello?” She said, in her bubbly friendly tone.

My tongue felt numb for a second. I hadn’t talked to her for months. “Sally,” I forced myself to say through shaky lips. The phone went silent for a second.

“What?”

“…” Her cold blank tone shouldn’t have surprised me. “I…” I took deep breath before I said, “How are you?”

I only heard her breath, refusing to answer.

“I need your help.”

She chuckled, more irritated than amused. “Great.” She didn’t talk, and I hoped she was considering it; it gave me some hope. “Bye Jena.”

“No wait wait wait.” My fingers tensed around the phone. “Please.”

“What!”

“I’m homeless… okay. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Your problem not mine.”

I whined, “Sally—”

“Unless you’re fighting for your life in the hospital or dead… I don’t want see you. I thought I made that clear.”

I stopped biting my lips long enough to say, “Will, you don’t have to see me. You can just send me some money and I’ll pay you back—”

She ended the call.

“Bitch.” I slammed the phone shut, then gave Ray an apologetic smile once he noticed it.

I walked back to Kris’s table, where she sat scrolling randomly on her phone. “Hey.” I sat down.

“So?” She put the phone away.

“…I’m in.” I said, and watched as her mouth curled up in a faint smile. I didn’t know what she was hoping for, but I was going to get some things straight. “But… just to be clear. We’re roommates. Right?”

“Was that your sister on the phone?” Her green eyes narrowed.

“…Yeah. So?”

“Nothing. We’re roommates yeah.”

“Not… tenant and landlord, and defiantly not ma’am and maid. I don’t have money and I’m not the best housekeeper. So just so we’re on the same page.” I said, trying to sound a bit firm in my tone. I was desperate, but, especially with what happened yesterday, I wouldn’t want her to think I was a desperate wimp. “Deal?”

For some reason, what I said, or maybe the way I said it, forced a smile on her lips as she nodded. “Whatever you say tough girl. Come one let’s go.” She got to her feet and put her stuff in her purse.

I stood up and almost started walking with her toward the door, when she stopped me and nodded to the table in the corner. “Your suitcases.”

“Right!” I turned back and went to grab them.

I was a bit offended she didn’t offer me a hand with one of them, but whatever. We walked out of the bar as I waved goodbye to Ray, whose confusion was clear as for why was I walking out of here with this girl.

“So you live near here right?”

“Yeah, ten-minute walk.” She nodded ahead. “You hungry?”

I had forgotten that I had a stomach ever since I got evicted. Now that she’d mentioned it, I was starving. “Ravenous.”

She nodded. “We’ll grab KFC on our way home.”

…….I love her.

Like she’d said, we grabbed KFC on our way and headed home to eat there. Her street was as shitty as mine. Long project buildings. Many wanna-be-gangsters hanging out here or there, most of them around their twenties.

Out of nowhere, she called to one of them who was leaning against a staircase a couple of meters away from us, “How’s it going turd-face.” She said in passing.

He got a blank look on his face, before he looked down, seeming half-disinterested-half-worried.

Kris shook her head as we just continued walking. “Dick.”

“You know him?” I asked.

“He tried to make a pass at me a week ago.”

“Oh.”

“Gave him the same kick I gave your face, but to his groin.”

“Ahh—” My whole body shrank, unable to imagine the pain. “Poor guy.”

We made it to her building, which was a few blocks ahead, then got in the lift and went up to the ninth floor. I didn’t rise my hopes up in terms of what the apartment could look like. I’d be disappointed if it ended up being worse than mine though.

She opened the door and let me in. As I got my suitcases inside, she turned the lights on, and my eyes widened. “What the fuck—” I whispered.

She giggled. “You like it?”

I only chuckled, unable to speak clearly. It wasn’t a mansion but compared to the apartments I lately had been living in, it was. We were in the living room. It had Paige walls and a modern décor, a couple of black leather couches around a white coffee table, which faced the wall that had a big ass TV on it. On the other wall was a big ass window that had a lovely view of the town, which I didn’t think would look beautiful from any height; I was dead wrong.

She must’ve given up on me saying anything, cause she walked to the coffee table and started unpacking the food bags, and the hot chicken smell that wafted from them reminded me that I was starving. I closed my gaping mouth shut, not wanting to give her any signs what I was that impressed, but I probably had already gave her that impression.

“Come!” She said as she sat on the couch. “Before it gets cold.”

I rushed towards the other couch and dug in.

We sat and ate in silence. Both of us were starving enough so that our mouths were full too much to talk anyway. I looked around my new apartment, still taking its awesomeness, compared to the dumpster I used to live in. A lovely detail I noticed, was that it was spotless. Everything in its place and the surfaces and windows sparkling clean. I smiled taking a sip of my coke; this could work.

“You seem to be doing a good job taking care of the apartment yourself.” I mumbled, looking towards her.

She looked around in confusion with her mouth full, before she swallowed. “Oh. No not really. I mean… call it fate, but my ex-girlfriend just moved out yesterday.”

“Oh…” I said. Funny coincidence. “Why did she move out?” I asked, looking around the apartment in surprise. Who would pass on this? Until my eyes fell back on Kris, who just shrugged and said, “Don’t know. It just… didn’t work out.”

I nodded, keeping my worries to myself. I would’ve understood if she needed to move out for some external reason, like landing a job that was faraway. But it looked like the girl maybe didn’t pass on the apartment itself, but on the girl living in it.

We resumed eating in silence, until we finished. Kris grabbed her half-empty Coke and stood. “Let me show you the rest of the apartment.” She gestured with her free hand around the mess on the table. “Clean this up okay,” she said and walked to the kitchen.

“You…” I stuttered. “You got it.”

She was a bit straightforward wasn’t she. What was it, like, twenty minutes I’d been in the apartment? I mean, I knew what I was here for, just didn’t expect for the first request/order to come this quick. Anyhow, I couldn’t be that mad after having received a free dinner. Maybe she just wanted to make everything clear from the get-go. Cleaning after eating: Jenna’s responsibility.

I got to my feet and did just that, grabbed the empty bags and followed her to the kitchen which was connected to the living room. It was equally amazing. Black granite counters and white cabinets, stainless steel appliances. I put the bag in the garbage as she showed me where everything was, then beckoned me to follow her into our room.

A bit surprised. I had let myself think that I’d be getting a room for myself. Not the case. It didn’t matter that much. At least she wasn’t going to make me sleep on the couch.

My excitement quickly dimmed when we walked in the bedroom. The fact that the room was spacious and had nice furniture was ruined by the fact that there was only one bed. It was a big master bed, but… there was still only one.

I didn’t hide my disappointment this time. “Only one bed?” I asked.

She looked my way, blank expression on her face, and shrugged. “Yeah.” As if there was nothing wrong with that.

Was she being dumb?

“Great.” I nodded, giving her a sarcastic smile. “Guess I’ll be sleeping on the couch then.” I couldn’t sleep next to a girl. Just couldn’t.

“Oh no no no…” She rose a finger at me smiling. “It’s a good couch. I like that couch you aren’t sleeping on that couch; its center will sag and the covers will scuff. No.”

Okay…… “So… what… I sleep with you in the bed.”

Her eyebrow rose teasingly as she smiled. “Do you want to?” Question was normal. Her face wasn’t. It made me blush. Something about this broad. If she wasn’t my last resort, I’d have been out of here like ten minutes ago. She must’ve seen the puzzled look on my face, cause she shook her head slightly and said, “Anyway, I wouldn’t recommend it to sleep beside me. I do karate in my sleep.” She palm-struk the air before she sat at the edge of her bed.

“Jee.” I widened my eyes sarcastically at her. “Looks like we’re running out of options here Kris. Where did your roommate sleep?”

She patted the bed she sat on.

“She put up with the karate?” I asked.

“No,” She giggled. “She slept at the foot of the bed.”

My head instinctively leaned back. If she acted like there was nothing wrong with that I wasn’t going to play along. Luckily, she didn’t. “I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t want to cramp this room with another bed. And there’s no way I’ll put a mattress in the living room or something.” She kicked her converse off then dragged herself up till her back rested against the headboard.

“It’s okay.” I brushed her off, “I’ll sleep beside you.”

“Sure?” her face wrinkled. “I’m telling you, you’ll wake up a lot. What’s wrong with sleeping here?” she patted the lower part of the matters with her socked feet.

I was sick of her pretending this was normal. Who knows, maybe it was normal for her, but it surely wasn’t for me. While I could live with the fact that I wouldn’t get my own room—as I was expecting—I surely couldn’t live with sleeping at the feet of some 24-year-old girl like a fucking house pet. I just looked her in the eyes, and made sure my tone was firm and serious when I said, “No.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I stood there for a second, looking around the room. It had a decent sized closet.

“This one is yours.” She pointed to one of the doors. “I think your stuff will fit in.”

“Great.” I said, “I’ll unpack later.”

“Okay,” She sighed. “Now that you’re all caught up. I’d like to catch on some work.” She said, arranging the cushions behind her and getting comfortable.

I nodded, then just stood there, not really knowing what to do. Do I just, resume living now.

“So…” She said, “Mi casa su casa.” She smiled at me. “TV has Netflix if you like.”

There’s an idea. I nodded at her and walked towards the door.

“Emm… Jenna,” She said before I was out of the room.

“Yeah?” I turned.

“Shoes go in the rack by the door.”

I looked down to conform I had my shoes on, then got confused, then looked near the bed and got angry. She must’ve meant her shoes. Yep. The fact that this girl was helping me mattered less and less every time she opened her mouth. But there was still a pleasant air of friendliness between us, one that I didn’t want to disturb for something so trivial. I grabbed the young snob’s shoes and walked out the door.

“Bring me my tablet and phone from the living room on your way will you.”

“Sure,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Thanks.” She said, loudly, as if she’d sensed the irritation in my voice and didn’t like it.

I spent the reminder of the night on the couch watching Netflix. A show I used to watch was running, but I didn’t really get to enjoy it, as my mind was elsewhere. Kris was bossy. I didn’t like that. She was friendly about it all, and I really owed her a lot for having saved my ass from living in the street. She seemed nice, she still did. But nice people wouldn’t try to take advantage of the person they had helped.

In a way I felt like that was exactly what she was doing. She hadn’t made that many orders, but I hadn’t been in the apartment for more than two hours. And expecting me to sleep at the foot of her bed. Fuck that! No one would find that normal. And call me old fashioned, but there needed to be some respect coming my way for being the older one here. I mean I was two years her senior. I wasn’t that polite, but even I wouldn’t be comfortable ordering some older woman around, no matter how friendly my tone was.

A decision was made. I didn’t like Kris………..Or I still liked Kris, but this wasn’t promising.

Kris walked out of our room and into the living room. She wore a white tank-top that revealed her tan arms and blue pajama shorts. She looked good! She had always looked good. “What you watching?” She threw herself on the other end of the couch that I was sitting on and flung her legs up, planting her white-socked feet in my lap.

“GOT,” I said.

“Cool,” She crossed her hands behind her head and leaned back to get comfortable.

I sat and watched in silent for a bit, before a musty smell wafted under my nose. It didn’t take me long to know where it was coming from. Her socks looked dirty and sweaty, as they had a gray layer on the toes part. I didn’t comment.

“So Kris,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Never asked you what you do for a living.”

“Digital Artist. I design illustrations and what not.”

“Oh.” I said, “What like… freelance?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “But I have a good number of customers that give me jobs regularly. And they pay well. So it reached a point where the money is stable I think. But I’m trying to land a job at this big Publishing house to design covers for them. If I manage to do that, it’ll be great.”

What she said made me think the money was good, which confused me. “…So it pays well?”

“Yeah.”

My eyes narrowed instinctively as I cocked my head. “…Why do you still live here?”

“I grew up here.” She shrugged. “And… I don’t know. I looked at some more ‘decent’ neighborhoods, none of them appealed to me. And the rent is way more expensive. Isn’t worth it. And besides…” She halted in her speech, hesitated, then went silent.

“What…?”

“Nothing. it’s stupid.”

“No come on.” Only reason I wanted to know was that she didn’t want to tell me. “What is it?”

She smiled, pursing her lips as if deciding whether or not to tell me. “I did a lot… a lot… of kickboxing in high school.”

“…Yeah?” I wasn’t sure how this could be relevant.

“I dunno. Fighting appealed to me back then, in a way. Someone trying to fuck with you and you kick their ass.”

“Aha.” I nodded, still clueless about where this was going.

“And here… it’s a lot more probable that you’ll come by some jerk and have to kick their ass. Not that much, but probably more than a nice neighborhood.”

I repeated what she said in my head like three times, and in the end, I accepted that it meant exactly what she said. “Are you saying you like getting picked on so you could defend yourself?”

“…Basically Yeah. It’s always fun being in a real fight. Such a thrill.”

“That’s… yeah you said it… stupid.” I said, then waited a second till I remembered. “Are you saying you enjoyed the incident me and you had.”

“You coming at me with a plastic knife, no, I was scared shitless at first. But once I had your head underfoot yeah it was fun.” She chuckled.

I chuckled with her out of politeness, but I didn’t find that funny. I didn’t enjoy it. And…probably, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it even if we had switched places. She obviously did. And I didn’t know what to make of that. I just nodded then returned my attention to the screen in front of us.

With the conversation having finished, a sharp and stinky smell caught my attention. I sighed, already knowing where it came from. I looked down at the pair of socked feet crossed in my lap. I had an urge to grab them and throw them to the floor where they belonged, but it seemed rude to do that. Was it rude? It was my lap! I should have a say in whether or not I want a pair of filthy feet to rest on it right. Maybe it was rude of her to put them in my lap in the first place while they were that smelly—

Fuck it. It wasn’t the end of the world. I just sat there and focused on the show, and every now and then, my eyes darted down, to her legs. I had already got a look at them, but not when they were this close. They looked good. Not too skinny not too chubby, just a pair of fine legs crossed over my lap, and I had no idea why I was looking at them. My eyes found their way to her thigs, and continued going up, her stomach, her breast, her face, her eyes that looked directly at me—Fuck. How long had she been looking? I blushed and smiled awkwardly.

She gave me a comforting smile, as if she’d sensed my discomfort. “So where are you from?” She said.

I didn’t like to tell my story that much. Just made me sad to think about how my life had been no more than three years ago. And she’d surely ask me about it once I’d tell her where I was from. But she always answered my questions openly, so it was only right that I did the same. “Blackvailta Street. Uptown,” I expected to see some kind of shock on her face. None of that.

She just nodded indifferently, biting her lower lip before she said, “Yeah, figured.”

I was the one in shock. What did she mean by that? People there had money. Lots of money. Like I used to have before I blew it all away and blew away my sister with it. Still, it wasn’t something that you’d figure from spending a day with me. “What do you mean?” I smiled questionably.

“I mean I can tell!” She said, widening her eyes as if she was stating the obvious. “You’re posh.”

“Posh?” I said.

She nodded.

“…I…” I pointed a finger at me. “You think I…am posh?” I said. “Me.”

“Yep.” She nodded, confused by my confusion. “You’re just… awfully nice and shy and usually nervous.”

I frowned. “That has nothing to do with posh. Don’t think you understand the word.” I was almost relived, before I realized that what she actually meant was far worse. “And I’m not that nice.” I said, leaving out the shy and nervous part, even though I was bothered by them most. “And not that it matters, but I’ve been living here for years.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “This neighborhood chewed you and spat you out. Your kind doesn’t do so well around places like this hun.”

What did she think she was a gangster or something? It wasn’t that bad. And more importantly what did she think I was? “You people?”

“Yeah. Posh—okay not posh, honestly, I have no idea what that word means. I just thought it fits you. I bet you’re the kind of girl that people find hard not to walk all over.”

I paused for a second to digest this. I didn’t want to assume, but I had a strong feeling I was being insulted here. “Are you…” I paused. “You saying that I am… what? A pushover.” I didn’t sound aggressive, but I was sure my offended pride made it into my tone.

She shrugged awkwardly then said, “Maybe a posh-over.” She smiled, her expression playful, as if inviting me to laugh on her dumb pun. I didn’t. She rolled her eyes and frowned. “Jee. You don’t have to be salty about it.”

“I’m not overly nice, I’m not a push over and I’m not—whatever, okay,” I said. “Don’t say that to me. That’s not nice.”

She burst laughing and her foot accidently bolted up and hit my face, which I didn’t appreciate. “Sorry,” she said as she tried to control her laughs and put her feet back down. “That’s not nice.” She mimicked me in a tone that I hadn’t spoken in my life. “Don’t say that that’s not nice. That’s just a classic posh line…or wimp line…or whatever you know what I mean.”

She kept giggling, and I kept staring at her with a frown on my face hoping that would make her stop. It didn’t of course but I didn’t know what else to do. Bitch was basically laughing her ass off at my personality…the personality she thought I had anyway, but it still hurt.

Some genuine annoyance must’ve made it to my face cause she suddenly stopped giggling and looked at me apologetically, but still smiled. “Awwhh come on. I’m kidding alright. I mean it’s okay.” She paused, hesitated, then shrugged. “I like it. I think it’s cute”

Of course she did. Who wouldn’t like a wimpy—or posh in her stupid vocabulary—girl that they could walk all over as a roommate. Not all people liked that. Some did. The kind of people that I was starting to think my new savior belonged to: Assholes.

I lived with an asshole once. My friend Martha. She was the last one that I had went for when I was still living on friends’ couches. She served as a great motivator for me to find a job and afford an apartment. She tried to throw all the chores on me and for some reason kept making those backhanded mean comments, and never let me forget how stupid I had been in blowing the money, even though she was on every party, event and vacation I blew it on.

Right now, chores were already my full responsibility; Kris had made that very clear. And the mean part of her personality was slowly being unraveled, which was making me slowly realize that we couldn’t be friends. That sucked, cause till now I still really liked her.

“Whatever,” I said as I crossed my arms and turned my head back towards the TV.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her roll her eyes. “Seriously?”

I didn’t respond.

I heard her sigh then go silent.

With time I felt only more irritated thinking about what she said. Was that why she had been acting all bossy with me? Cause she thought she could? Cause she thought I was too weak to stand up for myself?

“Your feet stink by the way.” I heard myself say firmly as I looked forward. I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe trying to assert myself in the most trivial and none-confrontational way I could think of.

“I know.” She said as she recrossed her ankles lazily.

I needed a while to register that. I know! I looked at her and her attention was fully on the TV. “No, I mean that I don’t appreciate them being in my lap.” The firmness in my tone got her attention.

My heart started pounding against my chest as soon as her eyes met mine. I continued. “They’re dirty and they smell. You should put them somewhere else.” I said but looked back at the TV before I got to even finish my line. I couldn’t keep eye contact with her while I said what I said.

She didn’t respond right away, and I could feel her eyes focused on the side of my face. Her toes wiggled inside their damp white socks before she said, “Oh yeah. Would it help if I put them on your face?”

I just turned towards her and gave a sarcastic, mean snicker, then looked at the TV again. Still, I felt anxious. I hated feet and everything about them. I didn’t care if they were disgustingly ugly or won awards for their beauty or some shit like that. I hated their smell and taste and everything else about them. So her joke got under my skin, and I was able to stay calm only cause I was certain that she was kidding. Not funny, but she was kidding.

Barely five seconds had passed before I felt the feet in my lap rise. At first I was relived thinking that she’d chosen to be decent and put them on the floor. But suddenly a pair of gray-stained white socked soles filled my view. They’d barely touched my nose before my hands bolted up and pushed them away. “What the fuck!” I shouted at her.

She held a hand over her mouth as she giggled. “What!” she said. “They’re only feet. Come on, you don’t want them on your lap.” She raised them again, only faster. My back slammed against the couch as her damp socks made contact with my face. She pushed them against my cheeks and forehead and actually started wiping them up and down.

I gave out a high-pitched cry as I immediately pushed them away again, then anxiously wiped my palms on my sweat-stained face. “For fuck’s sake Kris.” I whined at her as I tried to rub my face clean. “Stop doing that! that’s not nice—” The words flew out of my mouth before I managed to shut myself up. She giggled at me.

Once my face was relatively clean, I looked at her, my face serious and—hopefully—threatening. She bit her lip at me as she tilted her head, as if considering whether or not to apologize; at least that was what I hopped she was considering.

I took a deep breath, genuinely worried. “Look. I really don’t…”

“Appreciate?” She chuckled.

“Yeah.” I said angrily.

“Why not?” She said.

“It’s disgusting!” I threw my hands in the air. “And disrespectful. I don’t want you fooling around with me like that okay?”

Her playful expression was gone, which was a good sign. Her lip gave a curious smile as she looked at me silently.

This sucked. I knew I’d have to fight to put some boundaries between me and her, some rules and what not, but I never thought this would be one of them. She was acting like a child, a mean one. I held eye contact with her for a moment. I didn’t know how I looked, I just hoped I didn’t look scared, cause I really was.

Suddenly, she shifted her butt closer to me on the couch and rose her legs again. I tried to rise my hands in defense but her sweaty soles were already pushing against my face, hard.“Kri-hmmhm” Her soles muffled my shout.

“What you gonna do about it blondie?” She mocked.

She put effort into grinding her feet up and down my face, so hard that she was pulling painfully on my checks and squashing my nose. My hands worked trying to push them away, but her legs were simply stronger than my arms and my resistance only made her push harder. I gave high-pitched cries that were muffled by her damp soles and only heard hysteric giggles and chuckles in return. With my nose squashed it was hard for me to breath, and whatever breath I took was combined with a rank stench that made me gag.

I was amidst the most disgusting and humiliating experience of my life. My arms ached trying to end it, to no success; she was just so strong.

But this wasn’t even the worst of it. That strange feeling was creeping up on me again. I hope I could say it made it better, but it didn’t. It just mounted my fears that some part however small in me wasn’t absolutely disgusted by this. I mean I was being bullied for fuck’s sake… Another girl was freely grinding her sweaty soles all over my helpless face and I should be feeling completely disgusted and humiliated; there shouldn’t be the least amount of pleasure, but there was. And it freaked me out.

After my face had been rubbed raw, the pressure of her feet eased, and they shifted down on my face slightly. The balls of her feet rested on my mouth and her toes on my nose, allowing me to open my eyes and look at her. My eyes must’ve spilled fire, cause she gave me this apologetic smile. Knowing she was barely resting her feet there, I pushed them away aggressively. My face was red as it burned hot with anger and humiliation both, and my hair stuck to my sweaty forehead.

She seemed trying to suppress a giggle, before she pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at me innocently. “This wasn’t really nice of me was it?”

Zero remorse. Not that I expected her to show any. Rage and fear rushed through me together, but mostly, I felt like a victim. “I think I’m going to bed.” I sniffled as I got up and walked towards our room.

“Come on don’t be like that, I was only fooling around!” she whined irritability, as if I was being unreasonable.

“Hem.” I nodded but didn’t stop walking, until I reached the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

I kicked my shoes off and didn’t bother to change my clothes. I decided to finish my unpacking in the morning, and went right to bed.

I grew anxious thinking about the bully that I had to live with now. That’s what she was, a bully. She was just like Martha. Only difference was, I could stand up to Martha. It was hard, but I managed to do it when I had to. And what terrified me now, was that unlike with my cunty ex-friend, if this escalated to physical confrontation, I would get my ass kicked; hell, Kris would probably enjoy it.

Not wanting to pass by the living room where Kris was still watching TV, and wanting to go to sleep before she enters, I decided against going to the bathroom, and just rubbed my hands over my sweat-stained face and tried to fall asleep.

I thought about calling my sister again, but I doubted she’d care. Sleeping with my face stinking of another’s girl’s foot stench wouldn’t constitute dead or fighting for your life.

My eyes fluttered open to the sounds of plates clanking. I stretched my arms and yawned. Daylight was shimmering through the windows of the living room, and I would say it was around 10:am, which sucked, considering I usually wake up 5 hours past that time. I sat straight, feeling the leather of the couch detach itself from my skin, and was greeted with the sight of Kris sitting on her recliner holding a mug of coffee.

“Morning…” I groaned, before my eyes pleasantly noticed my hot cup of coffee on the table. “Thanks.”

She only nodded, giving me a blank look, too blank. She sat there awaiting, dressed in the same clothes as the day before, as she crossed one leg over the other and dangled one slippered foot impatiently.

I didn’t know if I just happened to wake up when she made coffee, or if she had woken me up intentionally. Probably the latter, considering the not so pleased look on her face. I was too sleepy to give the explanation she was waiting for. I leaned in and grabbed my cup, taking a sip, steeling myself.

“Have a goodnight’s sleep?” she cocked her head.

“…Yeah.” I winced. “About that…” I forced myself to gulp under her menacing stare. Last night, I woke up twice, and both times it was because I felt a sharp pain in either my waist or my stomach. She was beating me in her sleep. I had stayed laying there for like half an hour, before I decided to go out and sleep on the couch. I mean how serious could she be about not wanting me to sleep on the couch. Judging by the dead-eyed look she gave me now, I would say she was pretty serious.

My voice flew out as a high-pitched whine as I explained myself. “I just couldn’t sleep with you in the same bed. You kept punching me!”

“I specifically told you not to sleep on the couch.” She said firmly.

“But you kept punching me.”

“I warned you about sleeping beside me didn’t I.”

“Well that didn’t leave me with a lot of options now did it.”

“You can sleep at—”

“And I don’t want to sleep at the foot of the bed.” I whined.

“Why not!”

“Cause you will kick the shit out of me while I’m down there!” Even though it wasn’t the main reason, it was the one I could give her, as it was something that she could surely understand.

“No I wouldn’t!” She shook her head like I was stupid. “Bed is big and I’m not that tall. My feet would be nowhere near you.”

I grunted, feeling stuck. I was her roommate, and the older woman. Did she really not see how wrong it was for me to sleep at the foot of her fucking bed. I mean it would be okay if it was a one-time thing as a temporary measure, but to expect me to sleep there every night? Did she really not find anything wrong with that?

Amidst my confusion, an idea popped into my head. It wasn’t that glamours, but it was worth a try, even if to make a point rather than to get anything out of it. “Well…” I said, trying to sound confident. “Why don’t I sleep up, and you sleep down there?” I ignored her frown and continued. “You know, since you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused…” She said, her eyes narrowing aggressively. “Whose house is this?”

It was my turn to frown. Of course. “Yours.”

“Whose bed are we sleeping in?”

“…Yours.”

“If one had to… who should sleep at the foot of whose bed?”

I couldn’t really argue with that logic could I. “…Me.”

I still felt like she needed to loosen up her rules a bit—or a lot—but it was her house after all, her couch, her bed, her rules that I should abide by, cause, when it comes down to it, my alternative was still sleeping on the street. “I’m sorry.”

She just raised a palm, as if to tell me not to worry about it. “No problem. This should work. We can be best of friends.” She smiled. “You just have to respect my boundaries without complaints, considering this is my house which I’m not charging you a penny to live in.”

I didn’t find it difficult to agree with that, so I simply nodded, with my mind occupied by a different more important thought, one that her mentioning the word boundaries had reminded me off. “About that…” I said. “Boundaries and what not. Could I lay some of mine too, or are those reserved for the Landlord.” I chuckled nervously, and fortunately she did too.

“Sure.” She shifted on her recliner and got more relaxed. “What’s up?”

“Last night.” I said. “…” I halted. Suddenly I found it hard to describe what happened last night in words. I found it embarrassing, like I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I really didn’t like the way you behaved. I didn’t like your behavior.”

“What are you talking about?”

………really?

My expression made it clear, and she continued. “Oh…” She recrossed her legs unconsciously. “That behavior.”

“Yeah that.” I said, half seriously half friendly. “So please… don’t do it again. Okay?”

After a brief silence during which she gave the wall behind me a calculating look, she just shook her head. “If we’re gonna live together, I want us to behave freely around one another. I was just fooling around. It’s no big deal. Don’t be a baby.”

…Was that a no? I looked unimpressed, and my confusion was clear on my face. “Look… what are you… I’m just asking you to… stop doing something that I don’t like, that you have absolutely no reason for doing… so what’s the matter…why not just… knock it off alright?” I shrugged, showing off my confusion as for why she was making a big deal out of this.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, getting under my skin, before she looked at me and her eyes turned playful. “If you’re such a tough girl, stand up for yourself if I do it again. You know… stop me.”

I was standing up for myself, by telling her not to do it, wasn’t I? That was how people interacted. I do something that the other person doesn’t like, they tell me to knock it off, and I knock it the fuck off.

But I suppose it wouldn’t help my case to explain that to her, so I just looked at her, my mouth gaping slightly, unsure of what to say.

When she figured I wasn’t going to say anything, she shrugged her shoulders and grabbed her phone, and started scrolling. “You still have some unpacking to do.” She nodded towards my suitcases by the door.

“Right!” I rose to my feet, grabbed them, and headed to our bedroom.

Having finished unpacking, I stood in the room, and same as last night, didn’t know what to do. But something told me I should be filling my time with finding a job—a.k.a. get the fuck out of here ASAP. Luckily, I was already dressed in my jeans and blouse. My hand halted before I had opened the door, and I grew anxious as for whether Kris would let me leave. The fear lingered in my mind for a bit before I shook my head and sighed, realizing how ridicules my worry was. It was none of her business. I walked into the living room, where Kris was lying on her recliner still sipping on her coffee, her laptop in her lap.

“Hey,” I said to her as I walked to the door. “I’m heading out for a bit okay.” I half-opened the apartment’s door, expecting a quick response.

She looked up from her laptop, a confused look on her face. “Where to?”

“Emm…” I stuttered. “…I was thinking I would, you know… go job-hunting.”

Her head reclined back slightly, before her calculating eyes drifted away from me then back. She rose her hands, her face wrinkling as if there was something she didn’t understand. “You… live here for free. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“All expenses included. Utilities, food—”

“Yeah yeah…” I shuffled my feet, unreasonably growing nervous. “I just thought… Sooner or later I will have to get my own place. You know… I can’t keep sleeping on your couch forever.” Or at the foot of your bed.

“Why?” She chuckled. “I would have no problem with that.”

“…” I looked down at the ground, then at the ceiling, anywhere except for her face, then managed to say, “I would.”

Her eyebrow raised, her face blank, she nodded, then shook her head and said indifferently. “Well suit yourself. But Jen. We—” She gestured towards the door. “Close it for a sec will you. Whole building is hearing us.”

“Oh.” I closed the door then leaned against it.

“Okay.” She said, “We have an agreement. You get to live her for free granted that you’d do the chores.” She said, her tone was friendly but firm.

“Yeah…” I looked around the perfectly clean apartment. “And I will, when there’s any.”

Her face didn’t show signs of agreeing.

“Kris I moved her just yesterday.” I snickered. “And the apartment is perfectly clean.”

“So.” She shrugged. “There’s still shit to do. A ton of it.”

I frowned, wanting but resisting to just walk out the door. I just crossed my arms. “Like what?”

“For starters, the bathroom.” She pointed her thump back. “Have you seen the bathroom. And the kitchen.” She looked back, and it literally sparkled. “Okay kitchen is clean but the garbage needs taking out. OH—” She looked abruptly to the washing room. “And the laundry. My basket is like stuffed.”

Many lines battled in my mouth at once. Can I do them when I come back? I’ll take the garbage on my down. I never said I’ll wash your laundry!

I choose the ones that would get me through the door the fastest. “Look relax, okay. I’ll take the garbage now on my down… and I’ll do the rest when I get back. I promise.”

She crossed her own arms, and looked at me, her teeth biting on her lower lip. She didn’t look happy. A brief moment passed before she shook her head again. “As far as I’m concerned, this… job-hunt is a personal matter. It’s up to you but I’d prefer it if you stay true to your responsibilities first. Then you can do whatever you like.” She said and looked back at her computer screen, leaving me standing there.

Chores weren’t a problem…until now. She didn’t give a shit about chores. She just hated that I was considering to search for a job.

It didn’t take me long to cave. “Fine.” I sighed, and walked away from the door.

“Thanks.” She said, her eyes not leaving her screen. “What your gonna start with?”

“Emm.” I thought. “…Bathroom I guess.”

“Cool.” She said indifferently.

Cool.

Chores were a strange thing to me. At my old house, which my cunt of a sister resided in now, we used to have a maid. Then when I lived with my friends, the nice ones didn’t let me do any work considering I would only live with them for a couple of weeks max, and the not so nice ones were pigs, didn’t care for no chores. And my last couple of apartments smelled like piss no matter how much I cleaned them, so I didn’t.

So, to say the least, I found this new experience tedious tiring and boring. Bathroom wasn’t that dirty. Even the toilet wasn’t that bad. But it was the idea that it wasn’t mine, that I hadn’t even used it once, that kept my frustration raging. It was disgusting enough having to scrub my shit stains of a toilet ball, ripping my hair off the shower’s sink, but the fact that I was doing that for another girl, one that I had a growing disliking towards, and on her command, made me want to scream. But of course, all I did was strengthen my grip on the toilet brush and scrub harder.

It took me a while to really wipe everything clean in there, shorter than expected but longer than I hoped. I walked to the washing room next. I managed my expectations, and didn’t really hope for the laundry basket to be small, but I didn’t expect it to be this big. It reached my stomach, and its lid was parted, with hanging sleeves and leggings legs dangling over it.

I sighed. At least the washing machine looked high-quality, and it was big, so the whole thing wouldn’t be that time consuming.

I flung the basket lid open, then instinctively held my hand over my nose, protecting myself from the wave of hot stench that erupted from what had to be weeks’ worth of Kris’s dirty clothes. Not time consuming, just revolting.

I didn’t know why, but other girls’ scents always had a strange effect on me. I gather it was mostly disgust, but there was some other feeling, a slight one that mostly made me anxious and nervous. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t really have to think about it; I just kept my distance from my friends, it had been easy. But now it wasn’t, with Kris. More and more I was finding myself forced to be close to her in more than one way, like that mean stunt she pulled when she ground her feet all over my face. Along with disgust I felt something that wasn’t necessarily bad, just weird.

For about five minutes, I stood over the stink-basket and started digging out all her sport clothes first, which amounted to almost half the basket. I pushed those into the machine and started it, and as soon as I did, her footsteps erupted as she walked my way.

“Hey!”

“Hey…” I turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, a questioning look on her face. “Just doing your laundry here.” I tapped the basket with my palm, tried to sound as indifferent as possible, but I knew some of my frustration made it to my tone.

“Yeah I see that…” She walked in. “Just wanted to tell you. Whites together and colored together.”

“I’m not a retard.” I smiled.

“Just in case.” She chuckled. “And…” She crouched down beside me and looked into the basket searchingly. “You haven’t put any of my delicates in there…” She pointed to the washing machine. “Have you?”

“…Emm no.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear her next line.

“Good girl.” She nodded, delighted. “Delicates by hand okay?”

“…Delicates…” I looked down at the floor. “By hand?” I wasn’t asking but it sounded like a question anyway. I was just trying to figure out how to respond.

“Yeah…” She answered. “The basin here.” She nodded towards a pink basin beside the door. “Cool?”

“…”

She titled her head. We were crouching beside each other, and her face was an arm’s length from mine, which, made it that much harder to argue with her, and for some reason, put me at unease. Her delicate features seemed to never stop putting me at unease. I nodded, wanting the conversation over. “Cool.” It came out as shaky and weak, and it put a smile on her face. She nodded and stood up, which allowed me to exhale a sigh of relief. I had only started digging my hands in the basket to fish for her delicates, when she said, “What are you doing?”

“…Getting your underwear out.” I said, “I want to wash them while the Machine finishes.”

Her eyes narrowed, like I said something stupid, then she shook her head while she shifted closer. “You’re doing this all wrong. Here…” With that, she grabbed the half-full basket, lifted it, flipped it over and dumbed the mountain of clothes down, half on the floor, and half on top of my head and shoulders.

My hands froze up on my sides and my eyes were closed shut, with my whole body tensed and my face probably red. Didn’t know if it was unintentional, or if she just…didn’t think much of it, or if it was just another dick-move. But I was covered with all kinds of rank pants and shorts and socks and panties and lingerie. I opened my eyes and looked up at her. If my face held any kind of resentment, she must’ve not noticed it, cause she continued, “See, like that you don’t have to dig for them. Less trouble. Right?”

I nodded, my jaw too clenched to say anything, and held up a thumps-up with my tensed hand.

“Great.” She walked out. “You don’t have to do’em all by the way. Just my underwear for now. And you can keep them on the floor for when you want to do them later. Just… keep this door closed…” She held the doorknob, ready to close it. “Don’t want all this stench to fill the house. Nauseating.” She gave me a friendly smile as she closed the door.

Fuck her.

After sorting her delicate clothes out, I put them in the basin after filling it with water and soap and then got the hell out of the stink-room holding the basin in hand.

Kris was lying on the couch, so I took a seat at the recliner butting the basin in my lap, and started rubbing a pair of red panties clean in the water.

She turned down the volume of whatever show she was watching, before she started a conversation with me. We talked for a bit while I worked. As with all our previous conversations, she mostly asked the questions, and I mostly answered them. I talked about Highschool which I hadn’t done that well in, and college, which I had dropped out from. The conversation eventually veered to my love life.

I never had a long-time relationship. I just fooled around a couple of times in senior year, and a little in first year of college, and then turned monk. I just didn’t feel an urge to seek someone after that, and even before then, I only did it cause it seemed like it was what everyone did, especially my friends. And it was easy. I wasn’t one to think that I was a catch just because I was blonde, blue-eyed and slim, but a ton of boys seemed to think so, so it was a bit effortless to get dates. However, most of them started as boyfriends and ended up as just friends. I had a ton of male friends for some reason; found it less stressful to hang out with them.

I explained most of that to Kris, and weirdly, she seemed amused by what she heard. I didn’t think much about it, as most of her reactions seemed to not make sense.

The conversation dragged out for long enough that it finished with me finishing her delicates. She told me that I could leave vacuuming and mobbing the floors till I come back, and that I could take the garbage on my way down. I had no idea I was supposed to vacuum and mob the floor, as she hadn’t mentioned it before, but she was basically telling me I could go on my job-hunt now, so I didn’t argue.

While I got something out of my closet before I left, I noticed a bag at the bottom of her closet. It was half opened, but that slight opening was enough to see what lay inside it: Money. Lots of it.

I remembered her saying there weren’t ATMs close by to get her money out of the bank, so I guess she kept a good chunk of it at home to save herself the trips. For a split second, I felt my malicious intention toying with my brain, but I quickly killed it. I had my faults…but I liked to think that even I wouldn’t stoop as low as robbing the girl who had literally picked me off the streets.

“Don’t be late.” She said as I got out the door, and gave my jeans-covered ass a kick. It wasn’t that hard, but it was a kick, to my butt.

“Right,” I said as I got out, a confused look on my face as a response to her smiling one. “See you later.”

Another crude move that I didn’t appreciate, but I was too happy to be out of the house feeling free like I had a pass out of prison to think about it.

I spent like three hours going around town. I had gathered some job listings online the day before, so I hit those first, using a cab for transportation—which Kris had been nice enough to give me money for. After all of them turned me down, I spent some time just strolling through the streets, looking for any ‘Help wanted’ or ‘Now hiring’ signs. I managed to find a couple of them. The first one was so out of my league they basically laughed me out of the office. The other, a barista, I came in hopping that the manager would’ve forgotten my face by now—and the fact that I quitted that job with no notice and stole a couple of hundred bucks from the register—but unfortunately, he remembered it.

I had hoped for things to go differently but didn’t really expect them to. Jobs are sparse in generally, sparser still in my lovely town, and I was either unqualified for or unwelcomed in the ones that were open. By the looks of it, it seemed I’d be staying at Kris’s for a long time, which felt like a lump in my throat as I walked home.

I entered the house, my shoulders slouched, defeat written all over my face.

Kris, who sat on the couch with her laptop on her lap, glanced away from the screen. “No luck.”

I shook my head.

She gave me what had to be the most ingenuine sympathetic pout I had ever seen. She couldn’t hide it. She was happy that, at least for now, she didn’t have to worry about losing her nice, posh, pushover maid. I took my shoes off as she got back to whatever she was doing. I went to the kitchen, grabbed the cleaning supplies, and started vacuuming, knowing that she’d remind me to do it later anyway.

She leaved me alone while I cleaned—except for not letting me to put something on TV while I did it cause she had to work, which bothered me a bit; her house I guess.

But like every single interaction with her, she couldn’t let me finish cleaning without giving me something to think about at night. I was about to return the tools to the kitchen when she reminded me to clean under the couches. I had to bend so that the mob could reach under there. I got to the couch she was lying on last, and when I got there, she made no effort to move her legs up. I crouched beside her and started wiping, then saw her slipperred feet rise, which made me think that she finally thought to have some manners, before I felt a heavy pressure on my upper back. I froze in place.

I forced myself to shut up, my teeth digging into my lower lip. Bitch thought it normal to use my back as her footrest. I took a deep breath, then just continued scrubbing under the couch.

I ended as quickly as I could, and when I tried to get up to my feet, she just moved hers off my back and put them back on the floor. The most normal thing in the world. I looked down at her and she gave me a friendly smile then looked back at her laptop. “All done?” She asked. Her face held a tensed smile, and she was obviously suppressing a giggle. Bitch knew what she was doing.

“Yeah.” I walked back to the kitchen, and still managed to hear the faint suppressed giggle she’d been holding.

I was barely able to sleep that night. For one, I had to deal with Kris’s occasional assault. I’d been lying for like twenty minutes and she’d already jabbed her elbow into my stomach and shoulders twice. And the frustrations that had been building up all day kept me awake.

I didn’t know for how much longer I had to live here, but it looked like it would be for a long time. And I so didn’t want it to be. It sucked that I wanted to move, and not only because I was living rent free, but cause I really liked the rude bitch sleeping next to me. I did. She was fun to talk to, she was interesting, and successful for her age. She wasn’t judgmental or like…evil or cheap. It was just her occasional bullying that made this living arrangement a complete disaster. And for that, I had to put more effort standing up to her, even though the mere idea of looking straight into her delicate, sharp green eyes while they were in any way displeased terrified me.

I made it clear that I didn’t like what she did. But it seemed that her kind of people didn’t really acknowledge such objections. It didn’t stop her from rubbing her stinking feet on my objecting face; it even seemed to encourage her. The fact that some part of me enjoyed it was unimportant. I wanted to smother that part in me not stimulate it.

So what did not so nice not so wimpy not pushover people do. They definitely wouldn’t say something like “Can you please not rub your feet on face.” Cause… it was no brainer that I didn’t appreciate it, and it was no brainer as to why.

She knew all of that stuff and she chose to do it anyway, because she didn’t care, cause she knew I could do nothing to stop her. As for why would she chose to do such a thing, it was probably because it was fun…to her. I wouldn’t find it fun to do that to someone. But I wasn’t an asshole after all. She seemed to have had the time of her life imposing such a disgusting and humiliating thing on me. Well, next time, I would do something. Best thing to do to stop a bully is to clarify that their actions had consequences other than you being mad at them, as they don’t give a shit about that.

And knowing Kris, it wouldn’t take much time until I would have to apply my little theory.

It was days later, about four in the afternoon and I was sitting sprawled out on the couch in my blue striped pajamas watching TV. Kris was in the Gym. She didn’t go there that often, maybe every week or so according to her. I had already done my job-hunting today, online though. Wasn’t surprised to see that I was underqualified for every job I found—all three of them. So now I lay helpless, waiting for my sugar of a roommate to stroll in the door.

She did minutes later.

She wore black workout joggers and a velvet workout hoodie. “Hey,” She panted as she closed the door behind her, a wide smile on her face. She always seemed amused to walk into a room and find me in it.

“Hey yourself.” I said, nervous, as I was every time I was in a room with her.

“So how are you?” She threw herself on the sofa, and kicked up her sneakered feet in my lap.

Feeling my heart pounding against my numb chest over such a simple act, I grabbed her ankles calmly and let them fall to the ground, then I looked at her, hiding the mountain of fear I felt over her reaction behind an indifferent pair of eyes. “I’m good. You?”

For a moment, she looked confused. “Oh…” She smiled and shook her head, as if she’d realized something. “My bad.” She said as she kicked her sneakers off. Then, giving me an understanding smile, she raised her white-socked feet and planted them on my lap. “So how’ve you been? What you do today.”

Maybe it was a ridiculous thing to take a stand over, but, if I stand up to her laying her feet on my lap—shoed socked or bare—I would be basically standing up to everything else. I mean…don’t put them on my lap means don’t put them anywhere near me. So, again, I grabbed her sweaty ankles and dropped them to the floor. “Did some job-hunting. Now I’m watching TV.”

This time her confused eyes were a bit sharper. She cocked her head. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

“Nothing my ass. You’re all…testy.”

I just shrugged again, and redirected my attention to the TV. A short moment passed before I heard her grunt. “For fuck’s sake. This again!”

“What?”

“Grow up will you.” She said and for the third time tried to land her feet on my lap, but this time I pushed them away, and she frowned.

“Fine let’s see how you like it.” I lay opposite her and kicked my bare feet up, and since she was half laying on the couch too, I pushed them against her stomach.

Her response was instant. “Get your dirt-bags off me.” She shoved them away.

“See.” I said, feeling like I had a small victory.

“See what dummy. This is my house I’ll sit however I like. Now hush.” She put them on my lap again, and seeing my truly annoyed grimace, gave me a teasing look. “Unless you want them on your face again?”

“…” My mouth gaped, but I was filled with anger and shame both. Anger over her attitude, shame over the fact that part of me, however small, was curious. Curious over feeling the same way I felt the last time she did that to me. But no amount of curiosity would sway me to impose such a disgusting ordeal over myself again, willingly. My pause must’ve went on for longer than normal, cause her teasing smile widened with her eyes. “God… What happened to you. You want them on your face?”

“I…” I shook my head. “You are… Unbelievable.” I stormed up, causing her feet to land on the floor, then sat on the recliner. She could have the damn couch I didn’t care.

A long silence passed, during which I kept focusing on the TV with my face red. Then she said, “You can’t sit there.”

“…” I snapped towards her. My face was tensed and red. “What are you even talking about?”

“That’s my recliner it’s my special recliner, I love that recliner and I don’t like anyone else to sit in it.”

I knew it was all bullshit, but I wasn’t about to accuse her of that, so I went along with her game. “Well why don’t you come sit here so that I can sit over there?”

She looked up, acting to think, before she said, “…I like to sit on the couch too sometimes. You know it’s all about variety and stuff.”

“And where should I sit?” I said aggressively, probing my chin on my palm. “What are my options here?”

“Don’t know. Sit here on the couch, or there on the bed. Doesn’t matter really. You can sit on the floor for all I care.”

“…Kris just…” I shook my head at her. Why was she giving me a hard time. Why was she always giving me such a hard time. “Just… Just shut up.”

“Shut up?” She raised an eyebrow.

“…Sorry” I closed my eyes, regretting what I said. With all her bullshit, I didn’t want to end up being the rude one in the end. “… Just… give me a break. Okay.”

“Okay.” She nodded, and I appreciated the comforting look she gave me.

“Thanks.”

“Now get your ass off my chair. And come sit here, or anywhere else you want—in fact grab me a beer from the fridge on your way. Your bullshit is making me a bit cranky.”

“…I’m not moving my ass from this chair.” I said, and could only hope that I sounded firm and confidant. But I was shaking inside, with anger and fear both. “Get lost.” I slammed my back on the recliner causing its footrest to pop open, and I used it, then focused on the TV.

She went silent. I could only see her out of the corner of my eye, and my only relief was that she didn’t look that mad. She seemed calm. But with every second, my anxiousness grew. She still looked calm, but she was staring at me, for the better half of a minute now she just kept staring, her teeth biting lightly on her lower lip.

I cleared my throat and shuffled on the couch, trying to get more comfortable avoiding her. Let her be mad if she was. I felt good about standing up to myself. Cause some people just didn’t know when to stop, and Kris was one of them. She was acting bossy now, telling me to grab her a beer. She was just like Martha. If I hadn’t stood up to Martha the way I did, I would probably still be living there, feeding her grapes while she lazed on the couch or something. I managed to do it then; shouldn’t be different now. But Kris was a bit more pleasant…and a lot more confidant, and ten times less obnoxious regardless of her occasional behavior, and a million times more attractive—which shouldn’t matter…and didn’t matter. But all of it did make it harder to argue with her.

A big weight lifted off my chest when I saw her rise to her feet and walk in the kitchen’s direction which was behind me. She let the chair thing go, and she was going to get her own damn beer.

My relief dimed when the footsteps stopped too soon, which made me realize she hadn’t reached the kitchen, but was standing somewhere behind my chair. My skin went numb with fear, before I felt something touch my back. “Come on,” I whined, my fear making my tone weak shaky and pathetic. “What are you doing?” I turned.

“Relax!” she chuckled at my nervousness. “Just inch forward a bit. Need to get something from under you.”

“Oh.” My relief didn’t allow me to suspect her intentions, or to ask the very logical question of what in hell’s name would she want to get from under me. So I did what she said and shifted my butt forward slightly.

Her hands moved down, and for a couple of seconds, nothing. Then a sharp pain erupted between my butt cheeks, forcing me to leap to my feet as I yelped.

“What are you—AHhhh.”

The crotch of my panties felt like a fucking saw between my cheeks as Kris kept pulling them up by the waistband. I stood at the tips of my toes to lessen the pain, but she only clutched my panties and pulled harder up in response.

“Kris—”

My toes left the ground and I shrieked as she gave a determined giggle and literally lifted me up by my panties.

As my hands held my crotch as if it would help the pain, I barley I managed to scream at her between my whines of pain. “Put me down—Kris Putt me down now!”

“Who’s recliner is this?” She gave a tired chuckle as she kept me up.

“YORUS—FUCKING YOURS Alright.”

“You gonna sit on it again—”

“NO.”

“Good.” She let go, letting me fall forward and land on my hands and knees.

I stayed down there, my eyes teary from pain. My ass and crotch burned hot, so the first thing I did was shoving my hand inside my pants and digging out my panties from between my cheeks and poor petal.

Kris was behind me busy catching her breath all the while chuckling at my high-pitched whines. She was chuckling as if we were two little girls who just had the most entertaining playtime. Then she controlled her laughter enough to say. “Now go get me my beer.”

Like a fucking dog running to fetch a ball, I scampered to my feet in the kitchen’ direction and she kicked my butt with her socked foot as she giggled. “That’s right run blondie.”

I sniffled as I moved hysterically in the kitchen, flinging the fridge’s door open and snatching a can of beer out and then running back, the only thing motivating me being the want to run back to our room before I burst into tears in front of her, which was the last thing I wanted, to show her that she managed to make me cry like a baby.

I had barely rushed out of the kitchen when she said, “In a glass dummy. Add ice too.” so I ran back the way I came and did what she said. I was still half-running half-limping cause of the fire in my crotch when I reached her couch, and I tripped.

The glass stayed miraculously in my hand, but its content spilled all over, soaking into the carpet. “Fuck’s sake—” She scoffed at me. “You know how much that carpet costs.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

“Well clean it up you moron.” She pushed my head with her foot to get me moving, and I did. I bolted to the kitchen and returned with some washing liquid and a cloth.

I started rubbing in silence and hoped she’d leave me alone; no such luck though.

She tutted above me. “Clumsy idiot…spilling beer all over my carpet. You should’ve told me what a brainless pain in the ass you’ll end up being. I would’ve thought twice about inviting you here.”

Her furious words didn’t match her half-firm half-playful tone. And while I rubbed, the mere seconds I glanced up I saw her trying to hide a smile. I knew she was joking around but I still felt like crap, and plus, as stupid as it may sound, I still felt a bit guilty about messing up her carpet. I was sniffling by that point.

“What are you—” She bent down to get a better look at my face. “What are you crying? Crybaby.” The enjoyment in her words vanished, replaced by concern. “Tough girl you are huh.” I looked up at her to see her wrinkled face and pursed lips, as if she realized she had went a bit too far, which for some reason made me feel worse. “…Don’t cry.”

That did it. Not giving a shit about the dirty carpet anymore, I left the cloth and stormed to my room fighting tears, waling pathetically back at her as I slammed the door behind me. “Asshole.”

I threw myself on bed and buried my face in the mattress. If there had been an ounce of respect left for me in this house, it had disappeared now. She got to me. One wedgie and a spilled drink on the floor and she made me cry like a baby.

Worst thing was that I couldn’t make up my mind about her. She looked genuinely concerned about upsetting me at the end. She made me feel bad about acting like a baby, even though she was the one acting like a cunt. Here’s an idea, you don’t want to upset me, Don’t fucking bully me.

I had barely managed to dry my soggy face when she opened the door and walked in. I was sitting with my back against the headboard. She stood there in silence, like she was just evaluating the situation, seeing how mad I still was, before she felt safe to walk in.

She shuffled on her feet a bit, figuring out what to say, before she said, “Howdy there—”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah that’s fair.” Her face wrinkled as she looked away. “Look I don’t know what happened there. But it seems you’re a bit too…”

My face fell from indifference to shock. Was she really gonna put this on me?

“Sensitive than I thought.” She nodded.

“…”

My mouth gaped as I was about to argue with her, but I halted, cause eventually, she was right. When it comes down to it, she was rougher around the edges than I was, and I couldn’t handle it. I was nice. She wasn’t.

It looked like I wasn’t the only one who sucked at apologies. She kept standing there for the better half of a minute, just looking around the room, before she leaned against her closet and said, “So how about you put some clothes on so we could go out shopping or something.”

With my eyes narrowed and my arms crossed, I struggled to keep the smile off my face. “You’re buying me off?”

“……Kinda.”

“…” I thought about it for a bit, before I said, “And I get to sit on the chair!”

“Yeah,” She shrugged, “You can sit wherever.” She said it as if it didn’t matter to her; it probably never did. “Get dressed.” She walked out the room.

All in all, this wasn’t such a bad day. Coming back home from the mall felt like I was a kid on Christmas. The last year or so had been the hardest financially, and cause I could barely afford a place to live in and something to eat at the end of the day, I gave up a ton of the things I used to enjoy…which mostly consisted of food.

I didn’t want to look greedy, but she didn’t seem to mind, and she was buying me off after all. So I loaded up on chips, chocolate bars, candy, coke and pretty much anything else I felt like it could go with my next Netflix binge.

That was all what I asked for, but Kris, weirdly, suggested we buy some clothes. I felt like it was to much to ask for her, since I had some, but she suggested it, and I wasn’t a saint to refuse. By the end of it, I had a whole new wardrobe, but the only problem was …I hadn’t picked a single piece of it. Frankly, she appeared more excited about the shopping spree than I was. I didn’t mind it that much, as her taste was great, and it felt rude for me to say anything, considering she was paying and all.

But there were things that we bought that I would never even wear, including a pair of pink five-inch heels. I protested that one a bit more, and kept protesting until she basically kneeled in front of me in the store and told me let her put it on my foot. I couldn’t protest after that, cause one, her act surprised me, and two, for a change, I liked the small pleasure of having her put a shoe on me. It flattered my recently stained dignity a bit.

As she picked more and more clothes for me, I tried to say it as a joke one time and chuckled, “Are we buying for you or for me?” She froze for a bit when I said that, then shrugged and said, “I mean… I’m the one who’ll have to look at you wearing them right?” And with that she handed me a one-piece black lingerie to head toward the changing rooms with, staying true to her habit of slapping me playfully on the butt as I walked away.

That night I was lying down in bed with my head occupied by a single thought that I should’ve probably realized way earlier. Kris had a crush on me.

I remembered all her strange teasing looks she’d been giving me since the day I had met her. Her over-the-top interest in my life. But I doubted her bullying had anything to do with it…maybe it did, but it could still be just her personality, or she could just be a strange person who just happened to be nice enough to allow me to live rent free, or not. Cause frankly, she didn’t care that much about chores. She only seemed to mention it to keep me busy from job-hunting, or to pick on me. I don’t know. But something told me she just wanted me to live with her and didn’t care about much else.

That mere possibility of her having feelings for me got me thinking about what I’d been feeling; that fucked up urge I had whenever she bullied me. Did she feel the same about that? Did she like doing it to me? I didn’t let myself think about it for long, cause the answers didn’t matter. I wasn’t a lesbian. And even if I was, if there was some little part of me that actually liked to be treated like crap, then I wanted to kill it. Cause what normal girl would feel any kind of pleasure from being manhandled in such a degrading way.

With all of that in mind, I became sure that the best thing to do was to keep as far of a distance as I could from Kris.

Because of that, the following weeks proceeded kind of uneventfully. If she hanged out in the living room, I’d hang out in the bedroom, and vice versa. Still confidant that she was a good person—at some level—I tried not to make it that obvious that I didn’t want to spend time with her. I knew she hanged out in the living room when she came back from the gym or wherever she would be spending her day, so as soon as I would hear the keys clanking, I would run to the bedroom. If she felt like working or painting on her tab in bed, I would just go out and watch something on TV, saying that I didn’t want to distract her, or just head out and hang out with Ray at the bar.

But she wasn’t stupid. She knew I was keeping my distant, and she didn’t try to hide her annoyance. The rare times we talked to each other, when she’d suggest we watch a movie together or something and I would give her some lame excuse, she’d just… nod at me indifferently and say, “cool.” And her face would be so emotionless that it was obvious she was far from cool.

She gave me a harder time with chores, and she tried to boss me around—or bossed me around, considering I always did what she said. We would be in different rooms and she’d call for me, “Hey Jenna fix me up a sandwich or something. I’m starving here.” And I would leave whatever I would be doing and go fix her a sandwich. It wasn’t like I liked being bossed around, but if this was the worst revenge in response to me cutting her off, she could order me around as much as she wanted.

And there were those… uncalled for gestures. Like the kick up the ass whenever we crossed paths—she only did it harder now—after which I would look back at her and she’d just give me a blank look like she was saying, “what? Problem?” Or when she’d come back from the gym and strip to her underwear, and throw every sweat-soaked piece of clothes—from her jacket to her socks—right at me, then tell me to put them in the hamper. Or taking a number two in the bathroom and not caring to flush. I suppose I could do that too… if I had guts, which I didn’t.

All of that was to tell me she was mad at me. I still felt bad a bit, especially that our last significant interaction consisted of her taking me on a big-ass expensive shopping spree. But she didn’t even apologies after it, and more importantly, didn’t promise to not treat me like that again, so as far as I knew, nothing had changed. Getting abused then taken on a shopping spree as a compensation just wasn’t my cup of tea; I needed her to understand that.

But, as much as I hated to admit it, the urge in me to revisit that godforsaken feeling hadn’t vanished. It stuck with me ever since that first encounter in the street, and had only grown stronger.

It was maybe because of that urge that I had a disappointed look on my face when I walked into the house having come back from the bar and not finding Kris. I sat on the recliner. After half an hour of watching TV, I heard her keys in the door.

My first instinct told me to run, and I did half-jump to my feet before I settled back down. I didn’t know what kept me in that chair, but I would say it was a mixture of pure stupidity, guilt, and the urge to reexperience something I was afraid to reexperience.

So she opened the door, and her eyes immediately noticed me. They looked surprised, but unimpressed. “Oh…” she walked in, kicking her heel into the door and closing it. “I see you haven’t run to your little hole.”

Only thing I managed to say to that was a nervous chuckle. She looked tired as she flopped on top of the couch, crossing her feet at the coffee table.

“So how was your day?” I curled up on the recliner, crossing my arms and hugging my knees to my chest, growing awfully nervous about starting a conversation with her for the first time in days.

She gave me a look sideways, her eyebrow arched and her face blank, which made me more nervous. “Good.”

I nodded.

“You took out the garbage?”

Question came out of nowhere, but I answered. “…Yes.”

“The laundry?”

“…Yep.”

“The windows have you cleaned the windows?”

“I did it all Kris…” I shrugged, my irritation in my tone. “All of it.”

She bit her lip and looked away at the TV playing at a low volume. Neither of us spoke a word for a while. Until she said, “I’m beat. Why don’t you come here and take my shoes off.”

“Excuse me?”

“My shoes.” She wiggled her sneakered feet. “Take’em off for me.”

Unlike so many of her mean gestures, her request made me feel mad and insulted, and only mad and insulted. Was she really expecting me to just… comply, like I was her maid—fuck that even maids didn’t do something like that. It was the 21st century, and people took off their own shoes. “…Kris…” I said. “Just take your own shoes off. Leave me alone.”

“What’s with all the hostility.” She said.

“I’m not your damn water girl.”

“Water girl?”

“Yeah. Like… Maid.”

“You saying I’m treating you like a maid.”

“…”

“You saying I’m rude?” The aggressiveness in her tone grew.

She was starting a fight. And not wanting to play her game, I went silent, and just stared at the TV. The small part of me that was excited for something embarrassing and mean to happen to me was still there, but it was overtaken by the mounting fear of the idea of a getting into a fight with her.

“You’re giving me the silent treatment? Really. In my own house?”

“Our house.” I snapped. “I’m your roommate remember.”

“Yeah it’s still my house though. Your house, our house… my house. You’re gonna laze around on my chair watch my TV and refuse to talk to me?”

“…What do you want?”

“…Take my shoes off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To be nice. You’re nice aren’t you?”

“Well I…I don’t want to.”

“Why? What will it cost you.” Her smile could mean many things, but I guess it meant that she found it amusing that I was even going along with her ridiculous conversation.

“Cause your feet stink.”

“What!”

I recoiled. I could see her fucking smile; she was trying to hide it. She wasn’t offended, she just wanted to scare me, and it was working. But no matter of how intimidated I was, my slowly diminishing dignity shouldn’t cave to such a demand…willingly.

“You saying I have bad hygiene?”

“No I’m saying you’ve been in the gym for like an hour.”

“Well that’s just not a very nice thing to say to someone…” She barely managed to finish the line without laughing, then continued. “I have feelings you know.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, just to shut her up.

“…So my feet don’t smell.”

“…No.”

“…Cool. So you can take my shoes off for me now.”

“…” I narrowed my eyes at her. I didn’t imagine I looked threating, cause her smile only widened to my menacing stare. “You know what, they smell like shit.”

“Okay.” She rose to her feet and walked up to me, which made me jump out of my chair and hold my hands up.

“What you doing?” I rose a finger. “Stay the fuck away from my panties you pervert.”

“Relax…” She chuckled, but didn’t stop her approach toward me. “I just want to prove a point to you.”

“Hey back up—” I struck the air. “Back up.”

“Or what? You’re gonna cry me to death.” She tried to grab me.

I knew she was trying to pin me, so I attacked first, and ended up just throwing myself in her arms. Within seconds, she flipped me to the ground and sat on top of my chest, effortlessly pinning me down and trapping my arms under her knees. “Ohhh.” She giggled. “Feisty.”

My struggles and squirms to wiggle from under her was interrupted by the horror that came upon me as I realized she was trying to wiggle her sneaker off her foot. My face must’ve gone pale, cause she looked down at me and laughed, “Jeez… It’s like I’m gonna force you to inhale uranium or something.”

“What are you doing?” I gulped.

“Look.” She said, finally wedging her sneaker off and holding it in her hand. “We had too many meaningless fights cause of your childish attitude. You should be embarrassed frankly… I mean… you’re the older one here.”

Then treat me as such you bitch.

“And you hurt my feelings. So… I’ll need you to convince me that my feet don’t smell that bad. I’m a girl, you know I’m anxious about my hygiene.” With that, she slowly got the opening of her sneaker closer to my face.

“Don’t you dare…” I started turning my head left and right, but she just clutched a handful of my hair, making me yelp and forcing me to keep looking upward. She stuck the shoe to my face, and with me already panting, it didn’t take long for me to have to take my first inhale of what had to be the most disgusting stench I ever had to smell.

The air entering through my nostrils was thick and hot. It wasn’t so bad that I wanted to gag, but it was cheesy, and rank, not something I would smell willingly. And it was the idea that I was literally helpless, forced to smell Kris’s foot stench that made me feel beyond humiliated. While she looked down at me, with joy in her green eyes, as I passively took one breath after the other in obvious submission.

Only thing more humiliating about being forced to endure something as disgusting as this by a girl younger than me, was to admit that I actually enjoyed it. I either enjoyed some part of it, or I enjoyed it all. Her sitting on top of me, pinning me to the ground, me under her, helpless to do anything about it, completely at her mercy, having to breathe in and out something as rebelling as her gym shoe stench.

“See… How bad is it… really?” She asked in between giggles.

“It’s fucking nauseating.”

“How hurtful you are.” She shook her head, sliding off her other shoe. “If you keep being mean to me…I’m gonna shut that mouth of yours.”

I didn’t know what that meant. And I was as excited as I was afraid to find out—but mostly excited. “You smell like hot garbage.” She didn’t actually smell that bad. Frankly she smelled nice—her feet not included. Kris took care of her hygiene; her choice of time of when to do this to me was either a coincidence or by her design.

She seemed happy that I gave her that answer, and took her shoe away from my face. Swiftly she slid her black socks off her feet and brought them to my lips. “Open.”

“Fuck. No.”

“Suit yourself.” She trapped my nose between her knuckles, and waited, while still with her other hand clutching my hair. “Those socks are going into your nasty mouth in one……..two…..three….four—” I gaped to take a breath, and she shoved them both in. “Bon appetit.”

I gave a muffled shriek as the stinging, hot sweat touched my tongue. The fabric was damp and moist. My eyes fluttered as I felt my saliva wash away the sweat. Kris barely managed to contain her laughter as she looked down at me, pure ten-year-old joy in her eyes as she kept my mouth shut with her hand. “Hope you’re enjoying the taste. I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. No matter how dirty those socks are, they’re probably still a tad cleaner than your filthy—hurtful mouth.”

For a brief moment, I stopped struggling, and just gazed up into her eyes. The joy and determination on her face…she was having the time of her life. I would fight so much more, and would hate her so much more, if it weren’t for the fact that I was as excited as she. My face grew red as I felt that tingle make its way to my crotch. There was no denying it anymore… I had sexual pleasure from this. But regardless of that, I wanted it to be over. Kris obviously didn’t.

She leaned back again. Her knees left my arms, which allowed me to try and push her off me for a couple of seconds before she grabbed my wrists.

“You know…” She said, actually raising her bare foot and resting it on the side of my face. “Too many fights… we had too many fights over this. I think it’s about time you start acting like a grownup and stop making a fuzz about everything.” She shoved her other sole on my face, and started wiping her feet up and down, not even trying to be nice or gentle about it. No. She did it like there was a gum stuck on her sole and she wanted to get rid of it. Her soles pulled harshly on my lips and cheeks… I must’ve looked ridiculous.

Her soles were soft and sweaty, feeling hot against my cheeks. They didn’t have the worst touch. “You’re just too uptight love.” She said, “What? You think just cause you’re all blonde and pretty and cute you get to be mean to us common folks.”

Common folks! I was the unpaid house maid in this house.

The smell and the taste just kept building my pleasure up, and I grew scared of not being able to contain myself for long. I wasn’t about to climax, but something was sure to come out of me that would reveal the sick pleasures bolting through me.

Suddenly, she lifted her butt from my stomach, but kept her feet firmly planted where they were, which put all her pressure on my face. For a moment I was relived, cause her pressure on my stomach was making it harder for me to keep the moan I was holding, but then—probably worried about crushing my face— she sat back down with a thud.

And then it happened. That slam on my stomach forced the loudest, most girlish, high-pitched moan to shoot out of my mouth and ring through the living room.

The feet that were making a doormat out of my face froze at once. And Kris let go of my wrists, letting them fall to the ground. The silence of the air left no doubt in my mind that yes she heard it and yes she knew what it was. Shortly after, her feet slid to either side of my head, and she leaned forward to look at me. Her face was between shock and confusion, with her eyes wide and her lips pursed.

“Okay…” She cleared her throat with a cough. “…Well that was…” she nodded, not knowing what to say. A thin smile gradually made it to her face before she continued, “Let me just…” she inserted the tips of two fingers into my mouth and eased out her disgusting pair of socks. My face, red with anger shame and a blushing pleasure, probably communicated that I couldn’t mouth a single word. So she rose to her feet. “Okay… Hope you…” she rose a finger, jokingly scolding me. “…Learned your lesson and all…okay bye…I’m going in for a shower.” And she skimmed to the bathroom.

I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was thinking right now. The tiny ounce of respect she might’ve had for me was surely gone now that she heard my fucking moans over what had to be the most humiliating ordeals of my life.

As I lay on the ground, my only hope was that she too was enjoying it on a similar level. But, even if that was the case, I still felt ashamed. For her to enjoy doing this to me, wouldn’t necessarily be normal, but at least understandable; I imagined it was such a power trip for her, to be able to do that to another girl, especially one older, to humiliate and bully her and get away with it. She’d be condoned for that. But for me to feel anything but disgust and utter shame over what she did to me was disgusting at best, anyone would think that; Kris would, and now she knew about it—or at least suspected it.

The following days were tormenting. Nothing happened. There was an air of awkwardness between us and we barely spoke, and when we did, Kris was extra friendly, for some reason. I guess she wanted to get it to me that it was all alright.

But even though nothing was happening, and the relationship was as normal as I always wanted it, I was anxious. I knew that once the wave of awkwardness would pass, she’d go back to her old ways. If anything, the last incident would only make it easier for her to bully me. Her roommate whom she enjoyed to treat like shit wouldn’t only take it, but enjoy it, perhaps ask for it. I didn’t know if she believed that, but I believed that sooner or later that was exactly what was going to happen.

That thought only motivated me further to run. Living with Kris was turning me into a person I didn’t want to be, one that enjoyed being bullied, humiliated, degraded, fucking slapped around and treated like shit. I didn’t even want to think about being that pathetic excuse of a woman. I mean… it brought me more and more sexual pleasure the more I surrendered for it but… who said it was right for someone to run after their lust, especially when they were this fucked up. But I couldn’t deny the fact that I was hopeless to resist her, whether physically or mentally.

But I could run. And right now that was exactly what I was about to do. I was at the door, with my suitcase in hand. In it were most of the stuff I moved in here with, and some of the things Kris bought for me, and…a good chunk of her money; Kris was at a friend’s house, and I was about to rob her and leave forever. I didn’t take that much…only enough for a couple of month’s rent and expenses—five to six months if I spend it wisely—which would be enough to help me get by until I’d find a job.

The door was already open, but something was nailing my feet to the ground. I couldn’t decide what it was for sure. I mean… I didn’t think I had a conscience, one that would stop me from robbing a small, tiny portion of my rich bully of a roommate’s wealth. She trusted me; she didn’t even try to hide where she kept her money. She opened the bag more than once in front of me to give me money for the cap or when we went shopping. She never thought I’d do something as low as the thing I was trying to do now. Who knew I would draw the line on robbing the girl who had literately picked me up from the streets; I didn’t.

Or maybe it was just that I really wanted to stay here, and potentially relive the intoxicating experience that Kris had introduced me to. Whatever it was, it forbade me from leaving.

So later that night, me and her were in the living room, I watching TV on low volume, she drawing on the tab on her lap.

Out of nowhere, I said what I had been wanting to say since she came home. “I almost robbed you today.” I didn’t look at her cause I didn’t want to see her reaction, but I could feel her puzzled eyes suddenly staring at the side of my face.

Her confusion took a while to pass, before I heard her shuffling on the couch. “Why—” She cleared her throat. “What?”

“I almost robbed you today.”

“…Why didn’t you?”

I looked at her now, and only managed to give a shrug.

She took her time. We just looked at each other blankly for a while. I guess she was thinking about either why I almost robbed her, or why I just decided to tell her.

“Do you mean…” She put her tab on the couch and sat more comfortably facing me. “Do you mean you were leaving?”

“…Yeah.”

“…And you changed your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Who the fuck knows.” I said.

“…” She paused, her face between confusion and worry. “Do I need to start hiding my money from you now?”

“It depends.” I smiled sarcastically.

“On?”

“On whether you’re gonna keep treating me like shit.”

My comment made her recoil, before she smiled. “Fair enough.” She didn’t seem particularly excited about talking about it, but my serious staring demanded an answer. And fortunately, she took me seriously this time. “I just find it… fun…” She shrugged, seeming slightly ashamed of a guilty pleasure. “I just find it fun to… pick on you sometimes. Is that so bad?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I do… so can you just—” My frustration for some reason rose that moment. “Can you just… stop it. Look I need this place. I do. But I promise I’ll find a way to get the fuck out of here if you keep behaving like that. Nothing is worth this. Hell, I wouldn’t be bullied this much if I was living on the damn streets.”

“Like you’d handle living in the street for more than a day.” she scoffed jokingly. “Please huh. You’re hardly handling living in an apartment with a me.”

She wasn’t really laughing but she was trying to change the discussion, and I didn’t play along. She sighed in frustration in response to my persistent serious face, then said, “Be my guest. Go live on the streets if you don’t like living here.” She gestured towards the door.

“…I’m not bluffing.” Something told me she liked me being here, too much to accept the idea of me leaving this easily. “I’ll really leave!”

She shrugged, and picked up her tablet again and continued drawing. I didn’t know what to say to that. She just told me to beat it. Considering that I was totally bluffing, a butt-hurt frown occupied my face as I returned my attention to the TV.

Then after a couple of minutes I heard, “I’m sick and tired of you pretending you’re not into this.”

It felt like a slap to the face in more ways than one, but eventually I composed myself and replied. “Excuse me. What?”

She looked at me, then, confused by my show of confusion—which was really just fear—she puffed and said, “Please… As if you didn’t almost climax while I was making a literal doormat out of your face.”

“That wasn’t…” my confidant words were cut short. She was right on the money, and I hoped I was a good-enough actress to deny it. “I was groaning.”

“Moaning.”

“No I wasn’t!” I chuckled nervously.

“Moaning like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up.” I whined.

She shut up, but not before giving me one of her slappable teasing smiles.

My cheeks were blushing and I was too angry to say a word, but as soon as I could, I spat, “And I’m straight… by the way. In case you don’t know.”

“…” She rose her eyebrows at me as if she realized something. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” I nodded, feeling a small victory.

“…Still in the closet I see.” She nodded and continued drawing.

“What—what? What?” I snickered, resisting the urge to lunge at her.

“Come on, it’s obvious.”

“I’m sorry! You know my sexuality, but I don’t?”

“I dunno.” She looked up, pretending to think. “I always thought I’m good at spotting these things in people.”

I stayed silent, partially because I didn’t know what to say, and partially because I was genuinely curious to hear what she had to say. Considering the utter madness that had been wagging in my body ever since I’d met her, I was curious to know what she saw in me. I mean… I was pretty sure I was straight, but, I was also sure a while back that I would never in a million years get any kind of pleasure from being pinned down by another girl and made to sniff her dirty gym shoe.

She looked at my awaiting face, then put her tablet back down and said, “Okay like…I dunno… when you first approached me at the bar. I felt like I was in front of a high-school nerd who had a crush on me or something!”

“I’m bad at apologies, I told you.”

“No… you were nervous… a lot.”

“Well I’m nervous around girls.” I said impulsively….then quickly regretted it. This was private.

She smiled, then cocked her head, “You don’t say. And do you have any idea why that might be?”

“…You’re stupid.”

“And you’re a dyke.”

“You’re the dyke.”

“…” She frowned. “…Yeah? That supposed to be new information.”

“And I’m not the one who can’t seem to leave the other alone alright. So if there’s somebody who has a crush on somebody here, it’s you.” I said, my face growing red as I focused my angry gaze on the TV.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “…I do find you cute.”

Despite everything, that made me blush. This wasn’t necessarily good news, but… it was nice to hear it. After all the shit I’d been through, it was nice to know that I still had my touch. It felt good.

But I shouldn’t lose focus. “Well…” I turned to her. “That’s to bad. Cause I’m straight as an arrow.”

She exhaled, as if she’d had enough, then rose to her feet. “I totally believe you.”

I shivered in fear as I realized she was walking towards me. “Fuck are you doing?”

“Just want to try something.”

“Stay whee—”

Not letting me complete my sentence, and taking an audacious liberty, she grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my head forward toward her, planting her lips firmly on mine. She kissed me for what had to be five seconds, then let me go, staring into my eyes, with a confidant smile on her face. “How’d that feel?”

It took me a moment to gather my breath and compose myself. “Felt like nothing.” If my face was showing no signs of lying, it was because I was actually telling the truth. It didn’t feel that good. Frankly, I was more excited by her hand on the back of my neck more than the kiss itself.

“Oh…” She was taken aback; she believed me.

For a moment, judging by the disappointment in her eyes, I thought she was about to stand up, apologies and go back to her seat; no such luck.

“What about this?” with that she pulled on my neck and with her other hand pulled on my arm, and swiftly but aggressively guided me to the floor so that I lay flat on my back, with her on top of me. I tried to move my hands, but she pinned both my wrists to the floor above my head with one hand, and with the other forced me to look up at her.

She was strong, but I suppose that even she couldn’t pin both my hands up using just one of hers; I could get free if I tried enough, but she probably would pin me again more securely, and frankly, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to get free. “Huh…” She said, bringing her face close to mine. “What about this?” Abruptly, she let go of my face and gave me a playful—but firm—smack on the check, which immediately sent a bolting tingle down my spine. Just like that I was speechless, with my stomach empty and my skin prickling.

My failure to respond, and probably the reddening that suddenly painted my cheeks, made her giggle above me. “A moan would suffice.”

A moan automatically shot through my lips, causing her to smile. “Good girl.”

“Kris…” I said, genuine fear in my shaky voice. I was at lost and she was the only one I could talk to. “I don’t know what’s happening to me?”

After a moment of watching my fear and desperation, she laughed “Jeez.” She shook her head as she squeezed my cheeks. “Nothing is happening to you, silly. Acting like you’ve got a terminal disease. You’re great. Perfect. But you’re as far away from straight as they come.”

Weeks Later

I was in bed scrolling on my phone in my pajamas. Kris was out with her friends.

Past days had been… beautifully weird for me. Talking about that new urge of mine hadn’t gotten easier one bit. I couldn’t even describe it to myself so that I could describe it to Kris. But luckily, Kris didn’t need my explanation. She knew me better than I knew myself. She didn’t take that much time to figure out what I hadn’t.

My eyes lit up as a notification appeared on my screen. It was a message from Kris:

I’ll be home in about twenty minutes. If you don’t want my shoe print on your face again, you better make yourself presentable.

The message filled me with excitement that I never thought a message could. She wasn’t exaggerating nor kidding about her shoe print on my face. It was days before now, and I had forgotten to take down the garbage—on purpose of course. She tried to pin me to the floor, and I resisted, struggled and squirmed, cause that was half the fun, to fight her as she tried to do all kinds of mean things to me. Of course she eventually took a hold of me. With her foot in a flip-flops, she pressed on my face, pining my head to the ground. My groans gradually turned to moans from the mere humiliating act. When she took her foot off, she laughed, saying I had the pattern of her flip-flop’s sole printed on my cheek and temple. She even took a picture.

As ecstatic as that experience was, I still remember that it hurt like hell. I was always in the mood to be debased under her, but rarely in the mood for pain. So I leaped to my feet like a good girl and started making myself presentable.

I found out what she meant by presentable a week ago. She’d come from the gym, and I was laying on the couch with Netflix on, being the usual couch potato I liked to be, my limps sprawled out and chips and dips in my lap. When she walked into the living room and her eyes landed on me, she scoffed and shook her head.

“What?” I asked, with cheeks still stuffed.

“Nothing.” She spat. “But it would be nice to come home and get to see you in decent clothes for once.”

I looked down at my striped blue pajamas; I liked those pajamas and thought they looked cute. “Decent?”

“Like the clothes I’ve got for you.” She nodded towards the bedroom.

“Oh…” I hid my concern. Decent! Those clothes were sexy, revealing, and frankly, not appropriate for indoors, or at least not for a casual day like this; who’d wear a sexy red lingerie and laze in front of the TV. And besides, she never dressed up like that for me, but I wasn’t about to point that out for her—I liked her in her causal clothes anyway.

Now, I put on similar clothes to what I wore that night—and most nights. Red baby doll dress. Knee-high black nylons—having had waxed my legs, per Kris’s very persistent request. G-string. And last but not least, pink five-inch heels.

Was I comfortable walking in five-inch heels? Not remotely. Did they hurt? Absolutely. Did I even know how to walk in five-inch heels? No; I stumbled and tripped all the time and felt utterly silly and stupid wearing them inside the house. And that was exactly why Kris forced me to wear them. In her words, “I just like to watch you trip around like a clumsy blonde idiot, what’s wrong with that?”

She used the word blonde a lot. I was pretty sure by now she had a blonde-fetish. Guess she watched a bit too much Highschool movies growing up. She would usually snatch me up by the collar—sometimes by the hair—and just start walking, dragging me behind her like a lamp to the slaughter, and I would limp, trip, fall and get up and try to keep up as best as I could. She’d throw me in bed, climb on top of me. She loved to make me look stupid and loved to treat me like a slut, and for some reason my blonde hair was a big bonus for her.

I finished wearing my clothes and started putting on my make up—all of which she’d picked up for me too. Some eyeliner, not too little not too much that I looked like a striper. Some bright red lipstick. Some pink blush powder that gave a pinkish tint to my cheeks.

Barely avoiding stumbling, I walked back to take a good look at myself in the closet mirror. My hand went up instinctively to touch my face as I took the details of the ridiculous sight that was me. That was the most appropriate word to describe what was in front of me, ridiculous. I looked like a woman out of a questionable porno movie, yet, I liked it; though not to the same extent as Kris did. Ever since that day, although none of us stated it aloud, she was the bully of the house, and I was her little blonde bitch.

She always got what she wanted, which always consisted of me getting belittled in one way or another, sometimes I liked it, and sometimes I didn’t.

She’d order. And I’d rarely obey. It wasn’t fun for me to just cave to her demands—unless it was a trivial request, like me running to the kitchen to fix her a snack or something.

But most times, no. She had to come and physically force me. She’d either snatch me by the hair or put me in a headlock until I caved, or sit on top of me like she did so many times. Whatever it was, I had to be worn down or be physically restrained to do what she wanted.

And in the end, it always ended the same way, with me in whatever degrading position she wanted me in, whether it was at the end of her couch rubbing her sore feet, or at the floor while she used my face as her foot-wipe after a sweaty session at the gym, or on all fours—the one that I never got to like—while she laid her feet on my back or neck and used me like a lowly footstool as she worked on her laptop. I only complained once about how boring that was for me, but after she made an exciting change by tying her gym shoe to my face, I didn’t complain again—but the shoe to my face thing stayed till now; it was hell, but she rarely used me that way so…whatever.

And then we’d go to sleep.

It turned out that the bitch didn’t even do Karate in her sleep; she was just trying to sway me into sleeping at the foot of her bed—plus she liked the extra space. But now I didn’t need swaying did I. She’d just walk in, grab me by the collar then throw me at the foot of her bed and tell me to go to sleep—this was one that I obeyed instantly, cause one, I’d be sleepy, and two, and more immortally, she’d be sleepy and in no mode for foreplay. It took a while, but I had grown used to sleeping at her feet. I did feel like a dog, but as the days went by, I started minding that less and less. I started letting myself enjoy it, and grew used to hugging one of her legs to my chest as we both dozed off.

If I wake up before her, I get up and make her coffee and breakfast so that she could eat and then get straight to work like she liked. If she woke up before me, she’d kick me off the bed to the ground, so that I could go and make her coffee and breakfast so that she could eat then get straight to work like she liked. So it worked out.

The keys in the door startled me, as I realized Kris had arrived. I walked out the bedroom just as she walked in the door. She wore her black t-shirt, her slim jeans, and a pair of brown ankle boots. Her eyes quickly landed on me as she closed the door, and as always, her lips showed a faint smile. First time she saw me in this outfit, she flat out laughed her ass off, and I stood there for like half a minute with my arms crossed and a big frown on my face. But I got used to it, and thankfully she didn’t find it that funny anymore—or at least managed to hide it better.

“Hey.” She threw herself on the couch with her purse.

“Hey.” I said as I kept my balance. “So how’s your day?”

“Alright.” She sighed indifferently, then beckoned me closer with her hand. “Come here and give me a kiss.” Her friendly smile widened.

I started walking—limping towards her, stumbling. I almost tripped but managed to reach the couch, and instead tripped over her, making her laugh as I rested my face on her chest.

She snickered as she pinched my cheeks. “Clumsy idiot.”

“Shut up.” She leaned in and kissed me.

We just lay there for a couple of minutes with me between her shoulders.

“So how’s the gang?” I asked.

“You’re planning to stick to that stupid nickname.”

“How’re your friends?”

“Good.” She said, “But Yara had broken it off with her boyfriend… which really means Jeff was the one who really brock it off. So we pretty much spent the whole time talking about that.” She sighed.

I winced, knowing she hated nothing more than to talk about Yara’s disastrous love-life. But I secretly got excited inside; she was meaner irritated.

“What about you?” She stroked my hair.

“You know…” I shrugged. “Ate. I talked to Ray a bit on the phone. And have been watching that new show I told you about. And—”

“So basically being a useless turd around the house as usual.”

I gave her a sarcastic smile. “As usual.”

“Why do I keep you around again?”

“Cause you love me and cause I’m a princess who’s delightful to be around.”

“Humm…” she reached with the arm behind my back and pinched my butt, making me giggle. “Well, princess, how about you go down there and take my shoes off.”

I rolled my eyes, then shrugged. “I don’t feel like it—Oche fuck alright.” I unclamped her fingers from my nipple then slid down to the floor. I would usually resist more, but this wasn’t an outrageous request, so I saved up my energy for later. I unzipped her first ankle boot then removed it from her foot, feeling it clinging to her damp white sock.

Relaxed, she sighed as she rose her foot and rested her ankle on my shoulder. Her toes wiggled inside the sock; I just hoped I wouldn’t get much foot action tonight, as their smell was bad enough with them not pressed against my nose. I unzipped the other boot, and my hope was immediately squashed. The second her second foot was free from her boot, she shoved it into my unsuspecting face, using the foot on my shoulder to hook my neck and pull me closer. My hands shot in the air defensively but stayed at my sides, as I let out a groan, making her giggle. My eyes fluttered from the intensity of the stench smothering my nose.

“That bad huh?” She snickered, wiggling her toes against my lips. “Good. Smell it you dumb bimbo.”

I closed my eyes as her socked foot pressed against the full length of my face. I did just what she said: took a deep whiff. I still felt utterly worthless and ashamed underneath her. I don’t care how good it felt. A younger attractive girl was rubbing her sweaty foot on my face and calling me a bimbo; A younger girl slapped me around and pulled me by the hair whenever she felt like it, knowing I could never do the same to her. The humiliation of it would never wear away no matter how hot my crotch grew over it.

“I’m getting used to this…” She took a deep, lively breath, as if she was relaxing on some beach with the breeze. She shifted her sole down a bit to be able to look into my eyes. “You know… I thought I’d never find someone like you.”

“What do you mean?” My words were muffled with her foot, but she heard me.

“I mean… someone like you. Don’t get me wrong. I met tons of girls. None of them were like what I wanted.”

I hid my disappointment. I knew what I was to her. A girlfriend but still… only reason it was me and not someone else, was that I was the right fit. Other girls probably gave her too much shit; I didn’t. And plus, she obviously had tons of experiences, tons of ex-girlfriends, but she was my first.

“Some of them were down right too ugly, too sensitive or too fucking stupid for me to handle. But you… you’re perfect. You have everything I want. A rare breed.”

Same as every compliment, it made me blush. A rare breed.

“Smart, beautiful, cute…”

She gave a teasing smile in response to my warm one, then continued, “And so utterly pathetic that I could treat you like absolute horseshit and you’d… love it. Ready to take whatever I give you.”

I frowned, not truly hurt, just annoyed. And in response to that she slapped me with the sole of her foot, hard, which made a moan escape me. She giggled.

She rested her toes on my chin after a minute. “You know… I’m still a bit salty from last week. I don’t think I’m gonna let you go easily this time.”

“You didn’t let me go.” I was eager to correct her. “You kept trying for like twenty minutes and I didn’t cave.”

“Well, this time you’re gonna.”

“Nop.” I shook my head animatedly, my fear getting the better of me.

Last week, she tried to make me suck her toes. And not wanting her disgusting sweaty toes anywhere near my mouth, I fought her off and kept my jaw clamped shut. She tried to force me to open it for more than twenty minutes. And cause Kris always got what she wanted, I ended up caving, on the condition that she kept her socks on. She wasn’t totally satisfied with that, but she took it. And for the following five minutes I basically French-kissed her socked toes. I had already had her socks shoved in my mouth once, so it wasn’t that big of a deal; still disgusting, but mostly I was just thankful that I dodged the larger bullet.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “You’re tonguing my feet tonight. That much is decided.”

We locked eyes for a second; just enough for me to see in her smirk that she was dead-serious. I tried to leap to my feet, and like a predator who’d seen it coming she lurched forward and clutched a chunk of my hair, holding me in place. “Sorry honey but I’m in no mood to chase after your ass tonight.”

“AH..” I shrieked through the pain. “I’m not touching your bare feet.”

“First, yes you are.” She twisted her hand, wrapping my hair around it. “Second, that tone is gonna get you nowhere. If you don’t want to find out how my foot tastes today, I’d suggest a more… docile manner.”

“Fuck you.” I tried to pull away but it only made my scalp burn. She pulled harder, and I half-caved. “Okay okay…Please…”

“That’s more like it.”

“Please don’t make me do that. It’s disgusting.”

“That’s still a barrier for you huh!” she chuckled, then shrugged. “Okay. Convince me.”

With my hair still wrapped tightly around her hand, I whined, “What do you want?”

“I dunno…” She said, “Oh…here.” She pushed my head down, not letting go of my hair, till my face was inches away from the tops of her feet which rested on the ground. “Kiss my feet. You haven’t done that in a while.”

Cause it’s fucking degrading. Especially when she’s sitting like that above me.

I groaned. I hated doing this. But it was the only thing that might be my way out of a very nauseating night. I inched my face closer to the top of her socked foot and laid my first kiss. “Please don’t make me—”

She nudged my face with her toes. “Don’t beg.” She said, irritated. “Just kiss. I know what you’re asking for moron. And take my socks off.”

“Okay,” I said with a shaky tone as I slid her socks off, and immediately started laying kisses.

For a while the room was silent except for the smacks of my lips against her feet. Not for a second did she let go of my hair, probably thinking that the second she would I would bolt away crawling; she was right to think that.

I had to wipe my mouth with the top of my hand every two kisses, cause every contact resulted in a layer of sweat being stuck on my lips.

After what had to be five minutes of me humbling myself under her like a peasant pleading for her life, I felt a harsh tug on my hair, forcing me to rise. “OUCH.”

“Sorry,” She giggled.

“You’re pulling too hard.” I whined.

“But I need to grab you somewhere—” She sounded irritated. She looked around for a while before her eyes widened, like she’d gotten an idea. “I know… Wait a sec.”

My eyes watched confused. Keeping one hand grabbing my hair, she started unbuckling the belt on her jeans.

“What are you—”

“Innovating.” She slid her belt off.

I still hadn’t realized what she was up to until she reached for my neck with the belt. I recoiled. “You’re skimming off the top Kris. Seriously… A leash!”

“Hush…. It’ll be fun.” She tried to put it on me.

I slapped her hand away. “Fuck that…I’m not your fucking dog.”

She crocked her head and frowned, annoyed. On my face was a mixture of fear and childish defiance. But who was I kidding; like hell she’d take my defiance seriously with me looking like a barbie. She clutched the collar of my baby doll dress and pulled me closer harshly, making me gulp.

“Yes you are.” She spat.

Her wide eyes stared into mine, and she gave me a moment for what she said to sink in. It sunk in. With my face passively dull and hers satisfied, she wrapped the belt around my neck.

She gave it a testing tug; it was secured, though not overly tight, not uncomfortable. That didn’t matter to me; I was still at the end of a leash.

Kris leaned back relaxed, seeming happy that she didn’t have to bend forward to keep a hold on me, which I supposed had been inconvenient for her. “So… you know what dogs do?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my annoyance. “Roll over and bark I guess.”

“Yeah… that.” She smiled in response to my irritated tone. “But every once in a while, they like to lick their master’s feet.”

I tried to run away and of course ended just getting a pain in my neck. She pulled on the leash to keep me in place. “You just told me you’re not gonna do that!” I whined.

“No I didn’t.” She chuckled. “I told you to improve your attitude but made no promises.”

I had nothing else to say, nothing else to do; that didn’t change the fact that there was no way in hell. So when she raised a foot, still bearing her teasing slappable smile on her face, I just turned my head away, acting mad. “Make me.” I said. I was pretty much fighting for the sake of fighting now. I didn’t want her stink in my mouth, but even if I did, she hadn’t earned it yet.

It seemed she didn’t have the patience for my act. Suddenly my neck was yanked forward as Kris jerked the leash and shoved both her soles in my face. With her pulling on the belt and simultaneously thrusting her feet forward, my face was stinging against the pressure.

“You’re really stubborn today.” She rubbed her sweaty soles up and down, pulling at my face features.

“HUMMph.” My face grew red. Her toes forced my eyes shut, her arches squashed my nose so hard it bent and I could hardly breath. I grabbed her jeans-covered ankles, desperately trying to force her feet off, but to no use; her legs were solid and determined and so was her pull on the leash.

This went on for what felt like ten minutes but was surely one minute, cause I couldn’t imagine holding my breath longer than that. I swallowed a deep breath as soon as her feet left my face and rested on both my shoulders. I panted as she giggled above me. “Irritatingly tenacious.” She said. “You know I was gonna let you go with some light licks, some French kisses on my toes… But I don’t feel that kind anymore that you’re making it this hard for me. I’m gonna fuck your mouth with my foot and you’re gonna take it.”

I was still catching my breath when her toes came to linger under my nose, intoxicating every breath I took in. My make-up was a mess, half of it probably staining her soles, and my shoulders were slouched and I was exhausted. It was probably cause she saw all of that that she said confidently, “Stretch out your tongue, foot licker.”

I complied, knowingly not to her satisfaction, barely poking my tongue out.

She slapped me with the sole of her foot. “More!”

I stretched it out fully. She giggled as she watched me, my tongue long and wide, awaiting her foot to pass all over it. She rested her heel on it. And my gag was immediate from the stinging taste of her sweat, before she dragged her sole down slowly as she winced with disgust.

My eyes burned and grew wet from the putrid taste.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” She said. “Other one.”

With not a word of protest, I stretched my tongue, and she did it again, only this time keeping her toes on my lips, then, with my mouth open, she pulled on the leash, shoving her foot deep in my mouth.

She pulled hard and pushed her foot down harder. I never imagined that my mouth could stretch this wide, neither that it could fit half of Kris’s foot. The only upside to me having my mouth assaulted like that: My crotch was wetting my panties. She had no way of knowing that, but my moans quickly exposed me.

She looked deep in my eyes while she laughed at my pathetic show of pleasure and pulled harder. “If someone told you that one day you’d be on your knees dressed like a street whore with a younger girl shoving her smelly feet down your throat, would you have believed them?”

“NOGH,” I chocked on her foot.

“And the saddest part is…you love it. Don’t you?”

I nodded, my face growing red.

“You might not appreciate it.” She giggled and slapped my face with her other foot. “But you’ll take it.” She slapped me again. “Cause I own your ass. Right?”

“Hemmm.” I moaned, my skin prickled from the pain, pleasure and humiliation all bolting down my spine.

“And cause…?”

“…” I still couldn’t talk straight, half cause of my moans, half cause her foot was still lodged half-way down my throat. I waited for her to take her foot off, only to realize that she just wanted me to mumble like an idiot around her toes, so I mumbled, “Cas I’m yo’lile blon bit—”

“That’s right!” She laughed at how pathetic I sounded, pulling harder on the leach and shoving her foot deeper.

This went on for a while. It didn’t take long for me to break. My jaw was aching, my eyes were tearing. The taste in my mouth wasn’t getting any less revolting, and her toes were reaching too deep I thought I was about to vomit. Luckily, she pulled her foot out. I lurched forward and propped myself up on my hands, seeing my saliva dripping on the floor. When I looked up at her again, she seemed ecstatic, her eyes satisfied.

“Yeah,” She nodded calmly. “That’s the look.”

I wished I could see the look she was refereeing too. But judging by the assault I had just endured, I imagined I looked pitiful; red lipstick smeared all over my mouth, black eyeliner trailing down my blush cheeks, saliva covering and trickling down my chin. That’s the look that Kris wanted.

“You’ve been good today,” She crossed her legs, nodding her approval. “Wanna have your fun now.”

Still in my miserable state, I could only nod. I took her mentioning it as a sign of approval, and moved my hand to my panties, but she stopped me.

“Wait…” She kicked my hand away. “I think, it would be appropriate for this night to try something new.”

“…New.” I couldn’t hide my worry. I had enough ‘new’ for one night.

She leaned back, and slowly, stretched her leg forward. My eyes darted between her face and leg, confused.

“…” She frowned, like I was stupid. “Hump.”

My eyes closed in defeat. She couldn’t resist adding a final embarrassing addition to my already degrading night. But I couldn’t argue, I just wanted to feel good now.

I climbed over her jeans-covered leg, making sure my crotch was on her shin. I looked up at her for final approval.

“Mouth open.” She said. “Tongue out.”

“…Kris please!” I whined. This was her most loved, and my most hated ritual.

“No…” She shook her head. “Open my little spittoon and ask the question. Come on.”

“But…”

She slapped my face. “Open my little spittoon come on.”

I opened my mouth, wide, as she liked, and stretched my tongue as far as it could go, as she liked. I mumbled around, “Can your blonde bimbo please hump your leg?”

This was something she rarely made me do, but I hated it ever time.

My eyes shut closed as she pursed her lips and shot a spit that splattered all over my face. None of it landed in my gaping mouth. It never landed in my mouth. She just liked me to open it cause she liked the sight of me like that, with my mouth gaping and my tongue stretched out like a whore begging for more, waiting for her spit.

She leaned with a satisfied grin. “Hump away.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I rubbed my already moist crotch up and down her leg. I groaned as I tried to grind it as hard as I could. Naturally, I closed my eyes and buried my face in her thigh as I had my twisted intercourse. But Kris was having none of that. She grabbed me by the hair and forced my head up, forced my eyes open so that I looked right into her eyes. I didn’t like it, but frankly by now I was just thankful she didn’t make me keep my tongue stretched out like a dog while I humped her leg.

My heart pounded against my chest as my moans grew louder.

“You close?” Kris smiled.

“Humm.” I groaned.

She leaned forward, her eyes interested. “…One last time… Tell me what you are.”

“I’hmfmm.” I tried to say but my words came out mingled as a moan.

“Cat ate your tongue.” She tugged on my hair. “Come on tell me what you are Jenna.”

I forced myself to take a breath but couldn’t stop humping her leg for a second. I looked up at her and barely spoke, “I’m your little blonde bitch.”

She nodded, right before pursing her lips and shooting a spit that splattered on my forehead. “And you're lucky to even be that.”

I buried my face in her thigh as waves of pleasure bolted down my crotch. I came, my whole body twitching as I hugged her leg close to my chest.

I was still belittled and felt like a worthless bug. I had dignity, some at least, enough to still feel sad over it being pissed on by my young tormentor. But I knew that with time, Kris would make me forget all of that and accept the joy of being her little blonde bitch.