Sandaled

My favorite manicurist is a young woman with a golden touch who makes my hands and feet feel human again after my best effort all week to catch my nails on just about any hard surface. This week it had been a jacuzzi on July 4, and every time I got in and out my toes scraped on the pebbled stone steps. Totally worth it, though, I mean, how often do you get to watch fireworks at an exclusive resort, naked and submerged up to your neck in swirling water, sipping champagne and backed up against a perfectly positioned bubbly jet? Makes me sleep like a baby.

So back to today at the manicure table, fingers first so that they get longer to dry. She's chatting away about her kids, her ex, her boyfriend and any industry gossip she's heard in the past week, and after the gels have set, it's toenail time. I plop myself down in the wonderful massage chair and right away my back gets a workout as the hidden mechanism in the chair rumbles up and down. My butt is a little sore, more about that later, and soon the old polish is off and she's digging away at my cuticles, expertly nipping off the dead skin and filing my nails exactly the way I like them.

Then my favorite part - the scraping with that huge file to smooth my soles and heels, and aaaah, the massage, which undoes all the wrongs that life can throw at me.

Then she dries my feet and makes my toes behave with the pink rubber separators, slips them into my velvety soft black flip flops, then folds her towel over the front of the sandals and under my toes so that the polishing can begin. She expertly applies the hardener to make it last longer, then the French white tips, which she narrows with her little brush dipped in acetone, and finally the clear coat to protect everything.

We're done! I look great. I always give her cash, which ensures a good job, and then float out to the car and away.

There's a lot of traffic, this is after all, West LA, and I stop at every light. While my foot is on the brake, my newly massaged pink toes and heels start to feel the velvety bottoms of my flip flops and I find myself thinking, God, I love my sandals. No, I really love my sandals. Wow, it's strange to love something that has been an ordinary part of my life as long as I can remember. I must be a freak, but I really, totally love my sandals.

I start thinking about leather thongs slipping between my toes, and straps with studs buckled across my feet. And sparkly little rhinestones . . .suddenly, OMG, I'm getting hot.

My toes keep caressing the soft soles of my flip flops and rubbing the thong between them. These are my black Cobians, they have teeny straps. I think about my other sandals that zip up the back, that have multiple ankle straps, that loop around my big toes, that . . .

OK, we're off again, and I'm pressing the gas pedal so gently, the guy behind probably thinks I'm nuts. We stop again and my nipples are starting to tingle and get hard, and now they're rubbing against the smocking of my sundress. They have a hotline right to my clit, damn it, and thank God I'm turning into my driveway and pulling into the garage. I close the door and turn off the engine.

Sitting there in the soft leather, I suddenly remember that these are the sandals she spanked me with last night. Sure, I'd been sassy at dinner and knew I'd be well rewarded after our friends had gone and we were in bed, and sure enough she bent down and grabbed the flip flop from the floor where I'd kicked it off, threw me over her knee and made quite an impression on my delicate butt for longer than I liked. I was hot and burning red and came hard as she held me down with her thumb in my ass and her index finger in my very wet pussy.

Exhausted, I fell asleep until the pink dawn, then jumped up and showered and put on these sandals and this sundress to go to my nail appointment. As I sat there in the car with my butt still tingling gently from heat of the spanking, I found myself pushing the seat back, lifting up my dress and pulling my foot under me and rubbing the sole of my sandal against the pink satin that barely covered my smooth crotch. I exploded in another sweaty orgasm right there in the car.

God, I love my sandals. I really love my sandals. And I have their impression on my bottom to prove it.

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