Toe-to-Toe

[Guy Incognito]

This one's for all my fellow foot freaks . Enjoy!


Prologue

The two women careen across the bedroom carpet in a tangle of limbs and hair, snarling like wild animals. Each is completely naked, bare flesh fully exposed to the attacks of their opponent. They claw and bite and pummel one another, marring their pale skin with a litany of scratches, bruises and bites.

They collide with the bedside table, sending a glass lamp tumbling to the ground where it shatters on top of them. The combatants don't even seem to notice, rolling through the broken glass as though it weren't even there in their attempt to dominate one another.

They aren't alone in the room; a man lays on the bed, watching on with rapt attention. He too is naked, the hair on his sturdy chest soaked through with sweat. Between muscular thighs, his erect penis stands tall, betraying his feelings about the ongoing conflict.

The two brawling women have come apart at last. Ample chests heaving, they face one another on their knees, eyes locked together in hatred. Their bodies tell a tale of battles past and present: scratches mar their pretty faces; bruises cover their bodies from head to toe; loose strands of black and red hair cling to their sweat-slicked torsos.

As if by mutual agreement, they come together again. Their long, shapely legs coil around one another like pythons. Strong arms hug one another tightly, hands grasping and clawing at the soft, pale flesh of their rival's considerable buttocks. Their breasts flatten together as they squeeze the breath from their enemy's lungs.

The man on the bed makes no move to break up the fight. He begins to stroke himself absent mindedly, eyes still trained on the vicious duel mere feet away. His breath quickens as his arousal grows.

The combatants tumble to the ground, releasing their grasp on one another once more, but not for long. They scramble to do damage to one another, the redhead eventually grasping the bare foot of her enemy and raking her nails down the sole. Her raven-haired rival lets out a cry of pain and outrage before returning the favour, gouging five red trails along the bridge of her opponent's own foot.

They focus their attention on the feet of their enemy. Soles are clawed, heels are bitten and toes are twisted. Their feet, already heavily scarred from battles past, are soon covered by myriad fresh wounds. On the bed, the spectator strokes even quicker, apparently pleased by the new direction this battle is taking.

Eventually, exhaustion overwhelms the women once more. They come to rest on their back, their heads pointing in opposite directions. They kick out at one another weakly with injured feet, striking at each other's thighs and buttocks until, with a slap, their bare soles meet.

They seem to freeze in place, two pairs of bare soles locked together between them. Were it not for the grimaces of exertion on their faces, it would be impossible to tell that the two women are straining against one another in an attempt to force the other's legs back.

They lie, stationary in spite of the great effort they're exerting. The room falls into near silence as the battle calms, at least outwardly. Now that the fight has quietened, it is impossible to miss the groan the man makes as he orgasms, his rubbing having reached a crescendo as the duo's bare feet met.

The women's heads snap around to look at their voyeur, their feet unmoving. He meets their eyes in turn, his breathing heavy. Post-orgasm, the surrealism of the situation hits him.

He wonders, not for the first time today, how the hell he'd ended up in this situation.


Part 1 - Cold War


Chapter 1 - Vanessa

It all started that day in early January in the student union bar. We'd met there, Jason, Kitty and I, to discuss our plans for housing in the coming year. As we sat around that table talking inanely about house viewings and bathroom requirements, none of us could possible have conceived of how the decisions we made that day would eventually culminate.

Kitty and I had been friends for about as long as I could remember. We'd met on the first day of primary school, and had been basically inseparable ever since. We'd gone to the same secondary school, and moved on to the same college when the time came. We'd been to each other's birthday parties, sleepovers, movie nights. Our parents often said we were like sisters, but with fewer fights.

It was often commented on how unlikely a pairing the two of us seemed: Kitty was outgoing, with a self-confidence that bordered on outrageous at times. By contrast, I was an anxious introvert. I had excelled academically throughout my education. Kitty wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but her intelligence lay more in her social skills than in academics.

Our friendship seemed unbreakable, despite our differences--or perhaps because of them. We made up for each other's weaknesses: Kitty had helped me to make pretty much every friend I'd ever made, while she claimed that more than half of her passing grades were a result of my tutoring.

Two years ago, our seemingly inseparable pairing had been separated. I'd moved away to Leicester University to study for my physics degree, while Kitty had gone straight into work nearer to home. When I left for Leicester, she'd been there to wave me off. As I waved back at her from the backseat of my parent's car, I worried that physical distance might weaken our friendship.

I needn't have. We called each other at least once a week, texted almost daily. Our chats mainly consisted of us complaining about our respective lives; asshole professors, snotty customers, excessive homework, workplace drama, and so on. Despite the distance, our friendship was as strong as it had ever been. It seemed nothing could come between Kitty and me.

Jason had only been in my life for eighteen months by the time we all sat around that table.

Kitty was the one who'd introduced us. A few weeks before I moved away, I confided in her that I was feeling nervous about moving to an unfamiliar city alone. The next day, she called me and told me about Jason: "He's my friend's cousin's friend," she had said. "He's starting his first year at Leicester too, and he's apparently pretty nervous about it. Maybe if you have each other to talk to, it'll be easier got you both?"

She couldn't have been more right. During our first year, we supported each other through thick and thin. For a time, I was his only friend, and he mine. We had each other's backs through our toughest times, and ultimately came out of our shells together. I could honestly say that I couldn't have made it through that first year without Jason.

So is it any wonder I fell in love with him?

Jason and I had both been considering moving out of student accommodation at long last at the start of our third year. At the same time, Kitty had told me she wanted to move to Leicester for work. It seemed like a no-brainer that she should live with us too.

Me, my oldest friend, and my crush. All living together, under one roof. How could I not be excited?

For the first semester, things were pretty great. They were both pretty good housemates all in all, and the three of us got along well. It took a while for Jason to get comfortable with Kitty, but they were fast friends once he did. We made it through to the end of the year without major issues.

Things changed after the Christmas break. I had spent the holidays at home visiting family, leaving Kitty and Jason alone in the house together for nearly a month. I returned in January expecting another four months of the same.

Problems began when I started noticing small changes in Kitty's behaviour. A girly giggle here, a playful hair twirl there. She started wearing lighter, more revealing clothing around the house despite it still being the middle of winter. I had known Kitty long enough to know when she was trying to pull. And it wasn't hard to work out who her target was.

My best friend was trying to seduce my crush. Worse than that, it seemed to be working. More than once I caught Jason staring at her exposed cleavage, or her bare legs, or her backside whenever she bent over in tight pants. It was obvious he found her appealing.

I was distraught; Kitty had always been the more social of the pair of us, and the more adept with men. If she put her mind to it, which it was clear she was doing, I had little doubt that she'd be able to get him. I'd fallen in love with him over the course of more than two years, and she was going to steal him from me after only six months.

At first, I was too depressed and anxious to say anything. I was more sullen than usual, more short-tempered. I took out the bulk of my foul mood on Kitty, snapping at her for next to nothing. Whenever I saw her flirting with him, it was all I could do not to throttle her.

Ultimately, I knew this couldn't last, so I decided to take drastic action: I talked to my friend. I invited Kitty out for a coffee, just the two of us, and I confessed my feelings for Jason. For her part, she seemed mortified--she said that she hadn't realised I was into Jason, and that she would never have pursued him if she knew I was interested. She promised me there and then that she would leave him alone. At the time, I believed her.

The flirting stopped immediately. Kitty's clothing became more modest (at least by her standards), and her conversations with Jason returned to their previously friendly tone. For a few days, it felt like everything had been resolved amicably. My gratitude to Kitty was immense.

It didn't last.

Only a few days after our chat, I walked out of my bedroom to find them standing in the hallway, staring at one another. Kitty stood in the bathroom doorway, hair soaking wet from the shower. The towel she wore around her torso was barely big enough to cover the important bits. Jason had turned the colour of a ripe tomato, and was intently examining the floor at Kitty's feet to avoid looking her in the eye. I couldn't help but notice the sizeable bulge at the front of his jeans.

I don't know how long they'd been standing there, but my arrival seemed to break some kind of spell. Stammering an apology at nobody in particular, Jason turned around and scurried back down the stairs. That left Kitty and I to stare each other down. I looked at her with fury in my eyes, and she looked back with an expression I couldn't quite place.

I won the starting contest. She turned and hurried the opposite direction that Jason had, up the stairs in the direction of her attic bedroom. She made no apology. I waited for a moment for my blood to cool.

It didn't.

I burst through her bedroom door, letting it slam against the wall. She was sitting on her bed, towel still wrapped around her body. She shot up when she saw me enter, a mix of shock and anger in her expression.

"What the fuck..." she began.

"...'Is wrong with you?'" I cut her off. "You took the words right out of my mouth!"

"I didn't know he was going to be there. It was an accident." she raised her hands in a calming motion that only made me more mad.

I scoffed. "You didn't think he was going to be there? In his own house? How stupid do you think I am? You did that on purpose!"

"I did not! Besides, I'm fully covered up. It's not even that big a deal!"

"Is this what you call covered up?" I gestured at her chest. The towel had slipped and exposed her right breast when she'd stood up quickly.

She made no reply, nor did she attempt to cover herself back up. In two large strides, I closed the distance between us, coming to within an inch of her.

"Stay the fuck away from him." I said, lowering my voice to a deadly whisper.

With that, I turned to leave. But right before I could...

"No."

I froze. I turned. She was standing tall now, her face settled in a look of defiance.

"What did you say?" I asked, incredulous.

"I said no. Why the fuck should I stay away from him? You don't own him."

"You only met him a few months ago." I snarled. "I've been his friend for over two years."

"Exactly. You've been his friend for two years. If you wanted him for yourself, you should have acted sooner!"

I stepped forward again, bringing myself even closer than before.

"You're really going to ruin our friendship over this?" I demanded.

"Are you?" she replied.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension in the room was as thick. I could see the whites of her eyes as we glared at one another, feel the heat radiating off of her half-bare chest. If I shuffled my socks a millimeter further forward, I'd step on her bare toes, and likely ignite something I wouldn't be able to take back.

Pushing back the urge to knock my best friend unconscious, I stepped back. "Fine," I spat. "You aren't going to stop going after him? Doesn't matter. I'll get him first."

Kitty looked as surprised by my sudden conviction as I was. "Oh yeah? What makes you so confident?"

I didn't answer her, just smiled. In truth, I wasn't entirely sure what had come over me to make me so self-confident. Maybe it was my feelings for Jason, or my anger at Kitty, or some combination of the two that had overshadowed my usual self-doubt. Either way, I was determined to go toe-to-toe with Kitty, and I felt sure I had what it took to win.

I never answered her question. When I'd entered Kitty's room, it had been as her friend. As I turned and walked away, I wasn't sure what we were.


Chapter 2 - Kitty

Jason and I had met for the first time at a student union bar.

My first impressions of him were that he was fairly unassuming. As Vanessa had introduced the two of us, he'd tried and failed to make eye contact with me, directing his gaze firmly at the floor in front of my feet. He'd been quiet throughout our chat, letting Vanessa and I do most of the talking, only really chipping in when one of us asked him a direct question.

He dressed plainly in a black shirt, baggy jeans and trainers. He was around 6 feet tall with a stocky build, and unkempt brown hair. His face was plain and in need of a shave. I must have met a dozen men just like him in every club, bar or house party I'd ever gone to. He certainly didn't seem like the kind of man capable of coming between two lifelong friends.

But the more I got to know him, the more he started to grow on me. His scraggly beard disguised a strong jawline that stood out when he bothered to shave. He was witty, and kind, and surprisingly charming once he felt comfortable in your presence. I enjoyed spending time with him, with or without Kitty.

Plus, he was surprisingly built under that loose shirt. I remember the first time I noticed. I'd come downstairs late at night to grab a glass of water. I stepped into the kitchen and there he was, silhouetted by the fridge light. It was a few days into the Christmas holidays at the time, and both he and I had assumed that everyone else had gone home for the holidays. So when we'd made our way to the kitchen to grab a late night drink, neither of had bothered to cover up.

He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. I was wearing nothing but a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. Neither attire left much to the imagination. His eyes wandered up and down my body before settling, as they often did, on the floor in front of me. Not that I could complain; I'd already explored his body from head to toe with my own eyes.

Red-faced, we stammered our apologies, claimed our drinks, and hurried out of the room. Later that night, I lay in bed with my head in my hands, cringing at the memory. Still, as the embarrassment faded, I couldn't quite get the image of him out of my mind.

His arms were more toned than I'd expected, his abs more chiseled. I knew he was a long distance runner, but I was somehow still surprised by his tree-trunk calves. I couldn't help but notice the stirring in his shorts as he's stared at me, nor could I ignore the impressive size of the bulge that formed.

I realised as I began to rub myself that it wasn't just the size of the bulge that I enjoyed, but it's existence; I was happy that he was aroused by me. That was the moment I realised I had a crush on Jason.

And so, I started to pursue him. I flashed as much skin as I could; a bared shoulder, a hint of cleavage, a hint of thigh trough ripped nylons. Each time he seemed oblivious to my advances, I ramped things up. By the time Vanessa returned, a bit of cleavage had become a lot of cleavage, ripped nylons had become no nylons. Still, Jason showed no signs of noticing my efforts.

The same could not be said of Vanessa. I knew that she was upset with me--I'd noticed her snapping at me, and seen her leave the room in a hurry on several occasions--but I couldn't piece together the reason.

That was until she invited me for coffee, and let me know the truth. I didn't even have to think about it--when she told me that she loved him, I knew that I couldn't get between them. Our friendship was far more important to me than some silly crush. When I'd promised her that I'd leave him alone, I'd meant it.

The next day, I took back seat while the pair of them chatted. During our coffee, I'd thought that giving up my crush was a small sacrifice to make for my best friend. Hearing him laughing at her jokes, seeing his smile as they talked made my blood boil. I yearned to be the one he smiled at like that, to be in on all of his inside jokes. In that moment, I felt the overwhelming urge to attack my friend, drag her by the hair away from my man.

That's what made me realise that I was in love with him too.

I didn't know what to do. Vanessa and I had been friends for most of our lives. We'd had our fair share of fights, of course, and not all them had been purely verbal. As kids, we'd fought over toys, car seats, clothes--and yes, even shared crushes. Our fights could be brutal at times, but always short lived. Within a day or two of our bustups, we'd be right back to being best friends.

Love was a new experience though. I knew that coming between Vanessa and the man she loved could--would--spell disaster for friendship, and I hated the idea of hurting her that way. And yet, when I thought about giving in, about letting go of the man I loved, it made me feel sick.

So what should I do? I could pursue Jason and lose my oldest and best friend, or I could keep my best friend and spend the rest of my life resenting her for having what I wanted so desperately.

All of that was swirling around my head as I stepped out of the shower that fateful day. I wasn't thinking clearly as I wrapped a towel loosely around myself. If I had been, I might have realised that I wasn't alone in the house before I stepped out onto the landing.

Jason had been coming up the stairs right as I stepped out and he froze like a deer in the headlights. He must have just come in from a run; his shirt was stuck to his abs by sweat in a way that made me weak at the knees. His tight shorts bared his calves and left little else to the imagination.

His eyes flickered wildly from my chest to my legs to the floor. For my part, I struggled to keep my eyes off of his groin, where his tight shorts betrayed how he felt about my body. I couldn't help but feel that familiar sense of euphoria at the sight of his arousal.

That was where Vanessa found us, standing in the hallway in silence, me staring at his crotch and him taking in my body from tit to toe. The look she gave me was understandably murderous.

I'd retreated to my room, still unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to go to Vanessa and explain that it had all been a misunderstanding, renew my promise not to interfere with their love. At the same time, seeing that bulge in his shorts had made me want him more than ever.

That was when Vanessa barged in. She yelled at me, refused to believe me when I said that it was an accident. She got right up in my face, demanded that I stay away from Jason and made to storm out.

Something snapped in me. I was angry that Kitty had stormed in without permission, hurt that she didn't believe me. Most of all though, I was in love, and more than a little horny; and Vanessa was the one standing between me and the object of my desires. I'd been conflicted up until now, but Vanessa's anger had resolved that conflict.

So I told her to fuck off. She got in my face, and I didn't back down. For a moment, it seemed like this could only end in violence. Then, she stepped away and, after a short exchange, she left. Things hadn't come to a head quite yet, but I knew that wasn't the end of it.

The tension in the house over the next month was palpable. Vanessa and I barely spoke, our main mode of communication being dirty looks barely veiled insult. When Jason was around, we kept up a veneer of civility, but even he couldn't be oblivious enough not to notice the tension.

He did seem to be oblivious to our advances, however, or at least he acted like he was. Both Vanessa and I had been getting bolder and bolder, the fear of losing him to the competition driving us to ramp up our efforts at seduction. We wore sluttier and sluttier clothes, laughed harder and harder at his jokes. The next time I met him on the landing in nothing but a towel, it wasn't an accident. When Vanessa tripped and landed on him as he sat on the sofa, I couldn't help but notice that her feet had not come close to the rug that she'd blamed the stumble on.

Our cold war waged on, with no concrete signs of victory any time soon. At first, I worried that Vanessa would have the advantage; she had known Jason far longer than I had, and they had an emotional bond forged over more than two years that I couldn't yet compete with. A betting woman would put her money on Vanessa to claim the victory.

But I knew something she didn't.

Two weeks into our campaign of seduction, Vanessa had organised a film night with Jason. Her plan, I assume, was for it to be just the two of them. Perhaps she'd planned to make her move there and then. Unfortunately for her, Jason's cluelessness ruined her plan. He invited me to join them, later adding his best friend Tom to the group. For Vanessa's purposes, four was definitely a crowd.

We both dressed to impress. Vanessa went for loungewear; a low cut camisole top that exposed her midriff and a pair of slightly-too-tight shorts that barely covered the bottom of her ass. Despite my less than charitable feelings about my former friend at that time, I couldn't deny she was hot as hell.

But I was hotter. Vanessa had picked something sexy, but that could still reasonably pass as loungewear. I didn't limit myself. I waited until all three of them were seated ready to watch the movie, and made my dramatic entrance.

I wore the tightest leather tube top I had at my disposal, low cut to expose several inches of cleavage. I complemented it with a matching leather skirt that stopped about an inch short of covering my full ass, letting it sit low enough to expose just a hint of my black, lacy lingerie. To complete the set, a pair of black stockings that stopped just above my knee so that a few inches of thigh were visible beneath the skirt.

It got the reaction I was hoping for. Both of the boys' eyes widened like saucers when they saw me, their faces flushing red. Jason's eyes quickly hit the floor respectfully, while Tom continued to stare brazenly. By contrast, Vanessa's face was thunderous. I shot her a smug grin as I took my seat next to Jason, ignoring the free spot next to Tom in favour of the more crowded sofa.

Throughout the film, my smug demeanor changed quickly. Despite being sandwiched between two hot housemates, Jason only had eyes for one of them. No matter how much cleavage I showed, or how many times I pulled up my skirt to reveal more and more of my thigh, he barely even looked at me. Not that he really watched the movie either; instead, he kept his gaze planted firmly on the shapely legs of my rival sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

Not that I could blame him; Vanessa clearly knew she had his attention, and spent the entirety of the film crossing and uncrossing her legs, rubbing them together, "accidentally" letting her shorts ride up to expose more of her own thighs. I couldn't deny that it was an appealing sight, but the fact that he never even looked at me was baffling.

The other guy, Tom, couldn't keep his eyes off me. Understandably, he couldn't help but ogle the beautiful woman across from him. I'd dressed this way specifically to attract horny men, and it was working. Clearly, I was a sight to behold. So why the fuck wasn't Jason interested?

Jason answered my question unintentionally. I was watching him like a hawk, on the off chance he tried to sneak a glance at me while I wasn't looking. Not realising I had eyes on him, he sneakily took out his phone, raised it, and snapped a photo of Vanessa. If she noticed him doing it, she didn't let on.

From my vantage point though, I could see the screen of the phone when he took the pic. I saw the focus of the shot; Vanessa's feet, perfectly framed in the centre of the screen.

Everything started to make sense. I glanced at Vanessa's feet, bare with unpainted toenails. Then I looked down at my own feet and the sexy black stockings that would draw the eye of almost any straight man. Unless of course, the stockings covered up the main attraction.

The first time Jason and I had met, he hadn't been able to make eye contact. At the time, I thought it was just nerves making him stare at his own feet. Every time he was nervous, every time he was presented with an attractive woman, his eyes hit the floor.

But what if it wasn't his own feet he was staring at?

Did Vanessa know, I wondered? Surely not. If she had such vital intel, she'd have used it more by now. This was the first time I'd seen her flaunt her feet, and it seemed more a byproduct of an attempt to show off her legs. I could safely assume that I was the only one that realised it.

And I intended to use that.

When the film ended, the two boys got up and headed upstairs to play video games in Jason's bedroom, leaving Vanessa and I alone on the sofa. At first, neither of us spoke; I was busy concocting scenarios to justify taking off my socks off in front of Jason, and I barely even registered she was still there.

"I think Tom likes you."

I looked up. Vanessa had turned to me with a smug look on her face. She'd thrown her feet up on the sofa where Jason had been until recently and had reclined in a relaxed pose. She thought she'd won.

Not that I could blame her; tonight's battle had unambiguously been Vanessa's victory. She had no way of knowing that it had given me the tools to win the war. I threw my own legs up beside hers, shrugging my shoulder nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Who wouldn't?"

"I can ask Jason for his number if you want?"

I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it. Vanessa was gloating to be sure, rubbing my face in her perceived victory. But that wasn't all this was. In a way, she was also offering me an olive branch. "I get Jason, you get Tom"; that was her offer. It would be a neat way to put a bow on this conflict; if we both got a man out of this, even if it wasn't the man I wanted, maybe our friendship could be repaired.

It was a tempting offer. If I really was on the back foot (ha) as Vanessa thought, I might have even taken it. As it was it came across less as an olive branch and more as a consolation prize. One that I did not feel the need to accept.

"Nah, I'm good," I replied. "Pretty sure Jason and I are gonna be together soon enough. But if you're interested, I'm sure he'd settle for you!"

"Oh, is that so?" she laughed. "It looked to me like Jason couldn't keep his eyes off me tonight, and he never gave you a second glance. Unless you saw something I didn't?"

I smirked. "I might have."

Watching her smug smile fade into a frown was euphoric. "Whatever! You don't have a chance! I've known him way longer than you have!"

"That's true," I said. "And he's never shown interest in you in all that time. What does that tell you?"

"Oh, hasn't he?" She growled. "Then what the fuck do you call tonight? If that isn't interest, I don't know what is!"

"Maybe it isn't you he's interested in," I shot back, my own voice rising now.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe it means that I know something you don't."

I swung my legs off the sofa, making sure to hit hers on the way. Without looking back at her, I stood and made my way towards the stairs.

I felt a pain in the back of my thighs. She'd kicked out as I left, knocking my legs out from under me. I tumbled down onto the carpet in front of the TV.

By the time I'd rolled over, she was looming over me. She placed a bare foot on my chest and pressed down, pinning me to the ground. I smiled despite the pain, thinking how much Jason would likely enjoy this sight.

The smile only made her more furious. She removed her foot, instead straddling me with her legs. She squatted, grabbing the material of my top and pulling me close enough that I could feel the heat of her breath.

"Stay. The fuck. Away," she growled in a low, deadly tone. "He's mine!"

I smirked. In one fluid motion, I brought my legs up, wrapped my feet around her neck and yanked backwards. She yelped as she flew off me, tumbling onto her back.

I scrambled to my feet at once. Before she could recover, I placed a foot on her own chest, as she had done moments earlier, and pressed down.

I leaned in close, feeling cocky. "You want him? You'll have to go toe-to-toe with me."

I set her free. Looking down at her, I smirked. "The game is afoot, sister. Best of luck!"

I left her there, confused and humiliated. The first blows of the war had been struck.

They wouldn't be the last.


Chapter 3 - Jason

I perched on the end of my bed, watching Tom pace back and forth.

"You lucky bastard!" he muttered as he paced, as much to himself as to me, I thought. "You lucky fucking bastard!"

This had been going on for a while. It must have been half an hour since we'd retreated to my bedroom, and he was still going. Clearly Kate had impressed him; not that I could blame him, especially dressed as she was.

"I told you she was hot." I said, shrugging.

"Yeah, but you didn't say how hot she was! Goddamn! I mean, I thought you were lucky enough with Vanessa, but now you've got two hotties all to yourself? You lucky bastard!"

I rolled my eyes at him and laid back down on my bed, waiting for him to stop commenting on how hot my housemates were.

Not that I could blame him; they were fucking hot.

When I'd walked into that bar half a year ago, I couldn't believe my luck; not only was I going to be living with my hot best friend, but her other, equally hot friend, was joining us too. I was basically speechless as the three of us sat around the table and made plans.

"Who do you think is hotter?" Tom asked. "I mean, Vanessa's legs are hot as hell, obviously! But then again, you can't really beat a redhead. And that outfit, Jesus Christ! It's gotta be her, right Jason?"

I didn't want to admit it to Tom, but I'd already spent quite a while trying to work out who I thought was hotter out of the two of them. They both had smooth, fair skin and relatively athletic builds. Aside from that though, they were sexy in completely unique ways.

Kitty was taller, only a couple of inches below my own height, and her arms were maybe a little more toned than my other housemate. Her curly red read hair was a draw to be sure, as well as her piercing green eyes. She had a pretty, heart shaped face framed by shoulder length hair. She also tended to dress more promiscuously, whether at home or out, as tonight had demonstrated. Her usual choice of clothing made it difficult to ignore her incredible tits ("D-cups at least", Tom insisted) and respectable ass.

Vanessa was more petite, another couple of inches shorter than Kitty. Her jet-black hair was silky smooth and reached the small of her back. Her face was rounder, cuter, and her blue eyes made my heart flutter when she smiled. Although her tits were smaller (C-cups? I really don't know bra sizes), she made up for it by having the larger ass of the two. Despite being shorter, I always felt like her legs were longer, although maybe it was just her habit of wearing loungewear around the house. She favoured light tops, short shorts and, importantly for my interests, bare feet.

Fuck me, their feet. Of all the time I've spent agonising over which of my housemates is hotter, maybe 80% of that time has been spent comparing their feet. I scrolled through the pictures I'd taken earlier as I lay on the bed, feeling guilty about objectifying my best friend--not that it stopped me. I felt my jeans growing tighter as I zoomed in on her toes.

"So, which one are you going to pick?"

"Pick?" I hadn't been listening to what he was saying.

"The girls, mate. Which of them are you going for?"

I thought for a moment. "I can't honestly. They're both hot as hell."

Tom broke into a grin. "Oh my god, you're gunning for a threesome? You greedy bastard! I didn't think you had it in you!"

"God, can you imagine?" I laughed. "That'd be unbelievable wouldn't it. Hell, I'd be thrilled if one of them was down, let alone two!"

Tom laughed. Then he frowned. "Wait... What do you mean, if one of them was interested in you?"

I shrugged. "If one of them wanted to sleep with me, I mean. Either one, honestly. A threesome would be the fucking dream, obviously, but I doubt I'd be lucky enough for that to happen."

"Oh my god," Tom said, eyes wide with disbelief. "Don't tell me you don't know?"

"Know what?" I asked.

Tom stared at me, mouth agape. Then he laughed. "Oh my god, you actually don't know. You're really that oblivious."

I didn't know what he was talking about. "I don't know what you're talking about." I said.

Tom just shook his head. "You lucky fucking bastard!"

*

I didn't really feel all that lucky. Over the last couple of weeks, the house had gotten pretty tense. Vanessa and Kitty didn't seem to be talking to each other very much, at least when I was around. When they did speak, it seemed terse and strained. Whenever they spoke to me, they were perfectly friendly; too friendly, I thought. Something was going on that they weren't telling me.

I wondered if they had had a fight or something? That would explain why they weren't speaking to each other, at least--but why were they being weird with me? I tried to shake the feeling that it was me they were upset at, but I really couldn't understand why they'd be acting so strange around me otherwise.

Tom seemed to have a better idea of what was going on, but he refused to fill me in. Every time I tried to bring it up, he'd just shake his head and call me a lucky bastard again. It was starting to irritate me. I did consider asking the girls directly, but never managed to pluck up the courage to do so. And so, my ignorance continued.

A couple of weeks after the movie night with Tom, Vanessa suggested a night out. I was surprised--Vanessa, like me, wasn't usually much of a night club person. I'd usually have turned her down, but I was so relieved that she actually still wanted to hang out with me that I agreed on the spot.

The night in question soon arrived. I'd assumed that it was going to be a fairly casual occasion, so I was surprised to see how dressed up the two of them had gotten. I was even more surprised that Vanessa was more dressed up than Kitty for once. She had chosen a frilly black minidress with the lowest v-neck I had ever seen, a pair of black knee high boots that added several inches to her height, and black stockings. She had more eyeliner than I'd ever seen her wear, and a silver necklace that I never would have imagined her owning.

By contrast, Kitty was practically modest. She wore a simple red minidress that looked to me to be a few sizes too small, with shoulders and legs bared. Instead of the high heels I would have expected, she wore simple open toed sandals. Her toes, I noticed early on, were painted the same red as her dress.

Before we headed to the club, we had a few pre-drinks. Vanessa and I sat side by side on one sofa, while Kitty had one to herself. I didn't notice any of the tension that had persisted over the last month as we drank, although I can't say I was paying that much attention; Kitty had thrown her legs over the arm of her sofa and was kicking them back and forth idly as she drank. I was struggling not to stare.

It wasn't until we were about to leave that I realised how close Vanessa had gotten to me. She had an entire half of her sofa at her disposal, but had sidled right up beside me. I flushed red when I realised, and jumped up, stammering an apology, although I hadn't actually done anything. She looked annoyed at that, and shot a glance in Kitty's direction. Kitty, for her part, seemed to be enjoying herself.

We arrived at the club--basically a dingy basement with a disco ball and a few loudspeakers--at around 11pm. The girls were already more than a little drunk, and were desperate to get onto the dance floor. I was a little tipsy myself, which is perhaps why I didn't fight back too hard as they grabbed an arm each and dragged me with them.

Under normal circumstances, the girls were pretty decent dancers. They must have been more drunk than I thought though because tonight, they were all left feet. They were constantly stumbling, forcing me to catch them before they fell, desperately trying not to put my hands anywhere I shouldn't. At one point, Vanessa actually did fall, and needed me to lift her back up.

I wasn't the only victim of their clumsiness; they were constantly bumping into each other, hitting one another with stray elbows and stepping on each other's toes as they danced. Kitty even spilled her drink on Vanessa's dress at one point. It seemed Vanessa was too tipsy to care however, as she ignored Kitty's suggestion to head to the bathrooms to dry off and just continued to dance with us.

Before long, it was just me and Kitty. A group of goths seemed to have identified Vanessa as one of their own, and had managed to pull her away from us. Vanessa didn't look overly pleased to be a part of their circle, and I wondered aloud if we should attempt a rescue. Kitty talked me out of it, insisting that Vanessa could handle herself. To be honest I found the group kind of intimidating, so I gave in fairly easily. Still, I tried to keep my eye on Vanessa as we danced, just in case.

It didn't take me long to lose her. I was distracted by Kitty's dancing, which had somehow gotten even more erratic than before. She pulled in close, grinding her body up against me. I could have sworn she'd only had one cocktail since she got here; what the hell had been in it to make her act like this?

I was tipsy and hot and overwhelmed. My mind was struggling to focus on anything at all. I tried my best to laser focus on my two most important objectives. Number one: do not step on Kitty's toes as we dance. Number two: do not let her notice the bulge in my jeans.

Goal number two was getting harder and harder by the minute (in more ways than one) as Kitty continued to rub up against me. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest, her sweaty bare legs rubbing against my jeans.

With how chaotic Kitty's dancing was, it seemed inevitable that I would eventually step on her. Sure enough, it happened; I was taking a step forward when her foot shot out so quickly it almost looked intentional. I didn't have time to stop my trainer from landing on her sandals with considerable force.

She yelped in pain, hopping up and down on one foot and clutching at her toes. Apologising profusely, I allowed her to throw an arm around my shoulder while she limped off of the dance floor.

We took a seat on a sofa on the edge of the room. I tried my best not to stare as she slipped out of her sandal and examined her wounded foot.

"Sorry," I muttered again, risking a glance in her direction.

She smiled. "It's ok. I'm the one who has two left feet!" She wriggled her toes in a way that made my stomach do a backflip. She returned to examining her toes closely. I couldn't help doing the same.

"Is it bleeding?" she asked. "I can't really tell."

I scanned her splayed toes, painfully aware of the strain I was putting on my jeans.

"I don't think so." I replied, hoping that would satisfy her. It didn't.

"Look closer." she instructed. My entire body flinched as she twisted her body in the seat, throwing her bare foot up onto my lap. Her heel landed dangerously close to my crotch.

I did as she bid. The sole of her foot looked soft, entirely devoid of calluses or dirt. It was long but slender, I'd have guessed a size 7, possible an 8. Her toes too were long and slender, with red nails painted by a steady hand.

I realised suddenly that she was waiting for an answer. I'd almost forgotten what it was I was looking for. "Looks fine to me." I stammered. "Although I could try to find you a plaster if you like?"

"No, that's fine," she replied. She paused briefly, as though considering something. "But you could kiss it better for me?"

She wiggled her toes playfully. I thought the zipper of my jeans might burst. I tried to laugh at her obvious joke, but it got caught in my throat. Part of me screamed to do it, the same part of me that was straining to burst the seams of my trousers. What would she say if I actually did it? Would she think it was funny? Would she think it was gross?

Or, that same part of me whispered. What if she's into it?

I tried to silence the ludicrous thought. Obviously, I couldn't actually do it... could I? She still hadn't pulled her foot away. I'd lost track of how long I'd sat there, staring down at my own lap, and she still hadn't pulled her foot away. What if she was being serious? What if this was a genuine offer? Was I really going to pass up on a once in a lifetime opportunity like this?

I had actually started leaning forward when Vanessa saved me from myself.

"Hey guys! What's up?"

I stood immediately, pushing Kitty's foot off me more roughly than I'd intended. My face was flushed from a combination of heat, embarrassment, and arousal.

"I stood on Kitty's foot," I explained. "We were just checking it wasn't bleeding."

"Oh yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Kitty's always had trouble watching where her feet are going! It's probably not your fault you stepped on it."

"I already told him that," Kitty snapped. She seemed irritated again. I hoped I hadn't upset her when I shoved her foot away.

Vanessa didn't seem to hear her. "Maybe she should wait here a while, just to make sure she's ok. Why don't you and I do some dancing in the meantime?"

"No!" I yelled, louder than intended. "I... I need the bathroom first. You guys go ahead, I'll be with you soon."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed for the toilets, leaving them staring at one another. I got some strange looks from people as I scurried to the bathroom, both hands in front of my crotch to hide my shame.

It took me a while to calm myself down, locked in a cubicle where nobody could see. I scrolled through my phone idly in an attempt to distract myself from the mental image of Kitty's toes. I had no internet connection in the underground club, so I resorted to scrolling through my camera roll. I skimmed through memes, animal photos, screenshots of lecture notes; it wasn't exactly stimulating entertainment, but at least it was taking my mind off of Kitty's...

My heart jumped as the image of two bare feet appeared on my screen. They were Vanessa's; the photo I'd taken during the film night a couple of weeks ago. She'd been sat next to me with her legs folded up beneath her, the soles facing me.

Against my own judgement, I leaned in close to my phone to get a closer look. Vanessa's feet were smaller than Kitty's, only a size 6. They were shorter, and a little wider relative to their overall length. Her toes were shorter, more petite. Her pinkies curled inwards a little in a way that I found extremely appealing. Her soles looked soft, albeit a little dirty, at least in this photo.

My cock had grown hard again while I examined the image. Unbidden, and image entered my head; Vanessa, planting her foot on my lap and demanding I kiss her toes just as Kate had done. I imagined her wiggling her toes as I kissed her, starting with her curvy right pinky and working my way across the remaining nine.

My mind wandered back to Kitty, and I imagined both of my housemates planting their bare feet on my lap. I started to rub myself, aroused at the thought of twenty lovely toes arranged before me. I imagined the soft soles of their feet meeting, Kitty's long toes curling over Vanessa's shorter ones. I kissed them, one at a time at first, then multiple at once. In my mind's eye, they rubbed their feet together slowly, heels grinding against my groin...

I came in the night club bathroom as I fantasised about my housemates' feet. Afterwards, I felt ashamed. Kitty and Vanessa were my friends; what would they think if they knew I was objectifying them in this way? I considered deleting the photo of Vanessa's feet from my phone, but couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

I cleaned myself up as well as I could with shitty night club toilet paper and made my way back towards where I'd left Kitty and Vanessa. They weren't there; I guessed they'd gone to the bathroom. I didn't particularly feel like dancing any more, so I stood around and waited until they came back.

After several minutes, a couple of giggly women sat themselves on the sofa beside me, yelling to be heard over the blaring music.

"Oh my god," one of them yelled. "Did you see those two girls fighting in the bathroom?"

My ears pricked up despite myself. A fight? That sounded interesting. I hoped Vanessa and Kitty hadn't gotten caught up in it.

"No?!" the other replied, excitedly. "Like a full on fight? Did you film it?"

"No, I couldn't actually see what was going on. They were in the cubicle next to me. I mostly just heard a lot of yelling."

The second girl waited expectantly for the gossip. So did I.

"I couldn't hear all of it," the first girl continued. "But I did hear some of what they were saying: 'stay away from him!', 'he's mine!', 'I saw him first', things like that."

"God, its always over a guy!" her friend scoffed. "Aren't there enough guys to go around in this place?"

"I know, right?"

"So it wasn't really a proper fight then. Just an argument really?"

"Sort of. As soon as I heard them arguing, I did the responsible thing: I got down on my hands and knees to peek under the cubicle so I could see what was going on."

The friend snorted. "Oh my god, that's terrible! You can't spy on people in the bathroom like that!" And then, after barely a pause: "So, what did you see?"

"Well, not much really," the girls shrugged. "One of them was in these black leather boots, the other was wearing only one sandal. They were so close together that the boots girl was almost stepping on sandal girl's toes.

Then, they tensed up all of a sudden. I heard one of them saying 'Let go!' and the other said 'You let go!' They must have grabbed each other's hair or something."

I'd forgotten to pretend I wasn't listening in by that point. The girl's friend and I were both listening with rapt attention as she described the tense stand off. If she noticed me, she didn't seem to care.

She continued: "I didn't hear a lot of talking after that point. They just kind of stood in silence. I guessed they were still pulling each other's hair, or whatever they were doing.

Then they started to shuffle around the floor. Their feet were sliding back and forth, the boot girl kept standing on the other girl's toes. I heard them like, grunting and grumbling like they were struggling, but I couldn't tell if they were saying anything. Then, one of them slammed against the wall between my stall and theirs and they stopped.

I stood up and pressed my ear against the wall to hear what they were saying, but all I got was heavy breathing. They might have been speaking too quietly for me to hear, but I don't think so. It felt more like a stand-off than anything.

Then their door just slammed open, and I heard their footsteps leaving. I scrambled as fast as I could to leave the cubicle, but by the time I was out, they were gone."

"Damn!" the friend said after a pause. "That's crazy! I wish you'd seen them so we could hunt them down and see what happened next. It didn't sound like that was the end of it between those two."

"I know, right? Well, maybe we should hunt around for a girl with one sandal and a girl with black leather boots."

I tilted my head. I knew of a girl with one sandal and a girl with black leather boots. Could it possibly have been them in that cubicle? It would explain where they'd been all this time. And things had seemed tense between the two of them recently.

But no, that didn't make sense. The girls in the stall had been fighting over a guy, and Kitty and Vanessa didn't have anyone to fight over that I was aware of. Still, it was a pretty wild coincidence that these two catfighting women were dressed so similarly to my housemates.

Speaking of my housemates, they still hadn't materialised yet. I decided to look for them on the dance floor one more time. I hoped they hadn't gotten into any trouble.


Part 2 - coming eventually

[emmaduncxn]

OOOHHH A NEW STORY!!!

[emmaduncxn]

not even done reading yet, but this is already a masterpiece. finally a new story that nails this concept/premise I love a lot!

[Gent]

Absolutely fantastic!

[Edududu]

You know, with not being that much into foot stuff, I fully expected for this story to be the first of yours that I wouldn't enjoy that much.

However, it was a total mustake to underestimate your writing abilities. I'm 100% invested in this and reallly looking foward to the next parts!

[emmaduncxn]

waiting like that guy rubbing his hands while hiding behind a tree xD

[Astrakhan]

I really like the concept of telling the story from multiple perspectives, and they all feel distinct and like they bring something new to the table. Good idea.

[Astrakhan]