At Her Feet Ch. 01

The apartment was tucked above a bakery on a quiet street in downtown-a place just big enough to have everything, but small enough to still feel like it belonged to you. The second-floor space was cozy and sun-drenched, filled with mismatched candles and the hum of a shared life. It smelled faintly of vanilla, espresso, and the sweet powdery scent of designer perfume clinging to the couch cushions.

Natalie, 25, had lived there for almost a year now. She was all lines and poise, a blonde working in haute couture fashion who designed and crafted similar to how some people wrote poetry, intensely, seductively, and with intent to dazzle. Her long hair was kept in an effortless braid that somehow always looked deliberate, and when she smiled, her lips curled just enough to make you wonder if she knew more than she let on.

Her roommate, Lacey, was one year younger and very different. Also a pretty blonde, but in a soft, sweet way that invited trust than mystery. She worked in software engineering, mostly from home, and carried herself with a quiet, nerdy elegance. She wore oversized t-shirts and cute pajama shorts, her blue eyes always a little wide with thought. The two women had hit it off instantly when they met through a mutual friend, the ease between them growing into a deep, unshakeable friendship until they decided to become roommates.

But Natalie always knew there was something more under the surface. Something about the way Lacey's gaze lingered when Natalie kicked off her heels at the end of the day, or how she flushed and looked away when Natalie propped her feet on the ottoman with a teasing sigh of relief. Something hungry, quiet, and deeply buried.

And then, one Thursday evening, Natalie stumbled upon it.

Lacey had left her laptop open on the kitchen counter, the screen glowing. Natalie had just gotten home from work, her strappy stilettos in hand, her silk blouse unbuttoned at the collar. She reached for a glass of water when her eyes caught the tab that was still open.

MousePadFeet-Fetish Forums and Personal Stories.

Her brows lifted. Curiosity flickered in her chest, and without thinking, she leaned in.

The page was a thread, someone talking about their obsession with their roommate's arches, about watching her pad around the kitchen in bare feet. Another commented about the way socks left imprints. Lacey had left a reply.

I love when she props her feet on the couch and doesn't notice me looking. I wonder if she knows I'd give anything just to touch them... just once...

Natalie blinked. Her lips parted slightly.

Oh.

A slow, delicious smirk crept across her face. Her mind whirred. All the little moments snapped into place like puzzle pieces. That bashful smile when Natalie complained about sore soles. The way Lacey always offered to do laundry, especially when it was socks and stockings. The glances. The stammering compliments.

Well, well.

She closed the laptop gently, heart racing with something that wasn't quite amusement and not quite arousal-but something darker and more electric. Possibility.

Natalie had always been the type to control a room. She could turn heads just by adjusting her ponytail and she enjoyed it. But this was something else. This was more personal.

And it excited her.

When Lacey got home that evening, the sun had set and the apartment was lit with warm lamps and scented candles. She dropped her bag by the door, slipping out of her sneakers with a soft exhale, flexing her toes into the hardwood.

"Natalie?" she called, voice light.

"In here," came the reply from the living room.

Lacey padded in and smiled at the sight-Natalie curled up on the couch in a fitted tank and yoga pants, legs stretched out luxuriously, wine glass in hand. Her bare feet were crossed on the coffee table, toes freshly pedicured in soft blush pink.

Lacey looked away too quickly.

"I brought Thai for dinner," she said, holding up the bag.

They ate together on the couch, chatting about Lacey's new code deployments and Natalie's upcoming heel launch for a Milan capsule. It was easy. Comfortable. Familiar.

Until halfway through an old episode of Succession, Natalie slowly shifted.

She brought her feet down from the coffee table and casually slid them onto the couch, toward Lacey. At first, they just grazed her roommate's thigh, an innocent stretch. Then one foot-then both-came to rest lightly in Lacey's lap.

Lacey froze.

Her fingers twitched where they had been resting near the bowl of noodles. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't look down, but she didn't move away either. The weight of Natalie's feet, warm, soft, perfect, felt like jolts on her skin.

Natalie's gaze flicked sideways, unreadable. She turned back to the show, feigning distraction, but inside, her heart thrilled at the sight of Lacey's visible panic and excitement. The slight quiver in her fingers. The way her thighs tensed beneath the cotton of her pajama shorts.

Lacey was trying so hard not to react. But she didn't push her away.

Natalie leaned her head against the couch cushion, voice low and casual. "Long day. Hope you don't mind," she murmured.

"N-not at all," Lacey said too quickly. Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence. She cleared her throat. "Your feet are cute today."

Natalie's lips twitched.

"Cute?" she echoed, turning slightly. Her feet shifted subtly, rubbing against Lacey's thigh. "That's new."

Lacey turned crimson. "I didn't mean... I just-uh, the polish is nice."

Natalie tilted her head and gave a slow, knowing smile. "You can touch them, if you want."

Lacey's eyes widened.

"What?" she whispered, even as her hands-hesitant and trembling-lifted.

"You heard me." Natalie watched her like a hawk, every nerve lit. "They're right there. Might as well enjoy yourself, right?"

Lacey swallowed. For a moment, she didn't move. Then, with a sharp inhale, her fingertips brushed across Natalie's ankle.

Natalie exhaled softly.

Lacey's touch was featherlight and hesitant. She traced the curve of the arch, the pad of the heel, then slowly moved to the toes. Her face was burning, her breath shallow, but she didn't stop. The way she cradled Natalie's feet, it wasn't just curiosity. It was something deeper.

Natalie angled herself slightly, allowing her legs to stretch further. Her feet now rested fully in Lacey's lap, and she could feel the warmth radiating from her roommate's body. Lacey was squeezing her thighs together, just barely.

And her nipples.

Even through the loose fabric of her oversized pajama shirt, Natalie could see the stiff peaks. She smiled.

Lacey's fingers traced between each toe, pausing to press the ball of Natalie's foot against her own inner thigh. Natalie let out a quiet hum-pleased, amused, intrigued.

Minutes passed in silent tension. The show ended, the credits rolled, but neither of them moved.

Then, without warning, Natalie gently pulled her feet back.

Lacey blinked, almost dazed. "Oh-uh, sorry-was that too much?"

Natalie stood, stretching. "No," she said simply, turning to head upstairs. "Next time, you can play with them longer. Weirdo."

She didn't need to look back to know the effect it had.

But she glanced anyway.

Lacey sat on the couch, lips parted, cheeks flushed a deep rose. Her hands rested empty in her lap, like they missed something already. Her eyes were glassy with surprise, shame... and desire.

Natalie's chest thudded with something heady and delicious. She bit her lip.

This was going to be fun.