Feet II

To get a full understanding, you must read Feet

I finally ventured into the nail salon, took a deep breath and let someone violate me below the ankles… This was a huge step for me (no pun intended). A friend of mine had scheduled herself for a manicure and pedicure appointment and asked if I would like to join, for the “pedicure” part, of course. And, without putting much thought into it, my automatic response was “yes” despite my previous Feet I post and the multitude of factors to consider:

1. I do not know this “nail” person whatsoever. Hell, I don’t even know this person’s name and I’m just going to take my shoes and socks off, expose myself and then let that person “touch” me.

2. What were those hands doing before they decided to touch my feet? Were they touching their own feet? Touching someone else’s feet? Is there a possible chance of cross-contamination that could jeopardize the purity of my own little toes?

3. Will my feet be discussed later on after I’ve paid for my violation? Will this be a good judgment? Will they see what I see when I take a peek down below? Or, will this be a terrible judgment, one so bad that it would be best if I never expose a foot inside their establishment again? *sigh* too many flowing thoughts….

After arriving to my destination, I remained rather calm, not really thinking about the process and keeping my mind occupied. I enjoyed choosing a nail polish color and watching all the commotion taking place while I sit and wait for my fate.

“Sit in chair” I was told, and I complied. THAT’S when the panic set in. I was screaming bloody murder on the inside, cool and collected on the outside. They had me place my feet in a tub of warm water saturated with soothing salts. I’m assuming a last-ditch effort to distract the customer from the grueling task ahead. And I waited… And waited… We had a packed house of pedicure victims that night. Finally, the sadist makes her way to my foot tub to commence her dirty work… looking… judging… She had a mask on. Not sure if for my protection or hers.

Without giving a fair warning, she starts whipping out her sharp weapons of choice and begins her dirty deed. I watched every single move this woman tried to make on me. I look around the room and all these women are relaxed in their chairs with closed eyes and I’m the only person in the room in a full body sweat, ready to kick her in the face if she made one immoral move with my toes. The cuticle cutting was brutal. I was at my breaking point when, finally, I took a huge sigh of relief to see her stop her sadistic ways…. or so I thought…

This woman proceeded to grab my foot, stick it up in the air and start scraping away at the bottom of my purity. I suddenly start sweating profusely, in the same manner as if my stomach was experiencing diarrhea-cramps and I was in a mad search for a bathroom (you know what I’m talking about. THOSE kinds of sweats!)  My head felt like it was on fire and the only solution was to sit there, endure the experience and let the moment pass.

Once I got past that point, it was smooth sailing. She proceeded to do a bunch of rubbing on my calves, not the feet, thank goodness. Maybe she sensed my anxiety. And last, but not least, nail painting of the toes. This was, by far, the easiest of tasks, considering she did not have to touch my piggies individually; only paintbrush to nail.
Overall verdict: Would I do this again? Perhaps, as my toenails look quite presentable to the public. Will the process be enjoyable? NO. I hate to disappoint on the “No” part, but touching someone’s foot is a very intimate interaction to share with another. Only three people have ever touched me below the ankles, and only ONE special someone has ever kissed my foot, which took me by complete surprise yet somehow felt exhilarating. It is a moment that will be cherished for a lifetime. Will it ever happen again? Only fate can decide that one….

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