curly toes

I sat in the guard office of the Mall, drinking coffee with Alec, the Mall Security Chief. We watched through the glass as hundreds of customers made their way down the hall to the restrooms scattered along its length.“When you first opened I thought that was the stupidest thing I have ever heard of; Private Mall Foot Massage," Alec said, leaning back and taking a sip of his cheap, 'guard house' coffee. "I gave you a month. Now look at you; have to dress in a security guard uniform to keep your identity secret. The whole ‘mystery man’ foot massage thing is brilliant. The women are lined up out the door of your place.”
“It’s relaxing and stimulating for the ladies," I said. "But also intimate; so I decided to stay hidden in the booth. It’s less threatening. I know some of the ladies like to fantasize about the man who is rubbing their feet, ankles and calves; so the ‘Mystery Man’ can be whomever they wish.”
“All I see is a crowd of women lined up to pay you two bucks a minute, in five or ten-minute increments. You should be ready to retire in a year. How do your hands take it?”Alec looked over at my hands, it didn’t bother me anymore when people stared. I have large hands, large by any standards and coke-can wrists to go with them. Genetics and farm work when I was growing up. That’s the only explanation I’ve ever settled on.“It’s not bad; I can do it all day. It’s relaxing.”“Wouldn’t relax me, I’ve seen some of those gals lined up. My God...”“I never look at any of my customers. All I see are their feet, ankles and calves.”“I don’t see how you do it, I love all women, all shapes and sizes; I just love women. But, some of those lining up are so beautiful they make my heart weep. You’re lucky you don’t see them.”“I’m even luckier they don’t see me. Well, thanks Alec, I appreciate you letting me hang out here. See you at lunch.”“I don’t mind buddy; I just wish you’d give up some details about those gals. I know they talk while you're rubbing them.”
“Come on Alec, they would not like it if I start revealing their secrets. It’s ‘Mystery Man Private Foot Massage’; the ‘private’ is part of my success.”I walked along the back service corridors of the Mall. They run the whole length of the structure, and the shoppers never see them. The back door to the stores can be found along their length. I wore a security guard uniform so no one would ever figure out ‘who was rubbing them, giving them pleasure, fueling their inner fires.Alec said I could have frolicked with a different lady every night. Some dreams should remain just dreams.I slipped in the back door to the foot massage salon. It led directly through a tunnel into my massage area. The front portion of the store was open, with a reception counter and dozens of plants. Real plants, replaced monthly by a plant service. They were always green, lush and colorful. The walls were delicate pastels whose restrained hues were broken by art chosen to set a mood. Mostly oils of men and women dancing. Tuxedo’s, flowing gowns and joyous movement. Nothing else for sale, a few comfortable leather couches and chairs, and my receptionist slash cashier. She kept my identity secret, though she’d been offered scandalous sums to reveal it.It was an open area; a ‘horrible waste of retail space’ I’d been told. A small glass cubicle sat in the middle, towards the back. A thickly cushioned recliner sat inside with an opening to slip your feet and lower legs into. A remote seat adjusting panel was mounted on a swing arm next to the recliner. It featured 30 different adjustments to get you into any comfortable position you desired. The sounds of a light rain meandered softly through the sound system. Once inside, the glass door was closed and you could hear none of the bustling mall activity going on just a few feet away.Back where I worked, was a computer monitor which showed the number of minutes the customer had paid for, a silent digital timer, lightly warmed scented oils and my chair which could be rolled around and out of the way for the finale. The customer saw a screen on which the days poem was frozen, they saw their legs disappear into a black hole, surrounded by soft woolen cushion and nothing else.A pair of feet entered through the opening into my domain, and I glanced at the screen. Fifteen minutes, a long time regular. I recognized her feet. When I had first opened, I had a twenty-minute option and a ten-minute option, but complaints rolled in like angry thunderclouds, and I printed a voting card. I allowed everyone to vote for the five and ten-minute option; or leave everything as-is. The vote finished nearly unanimous in favor of the shortened times. I allowed a couple of the long-time customers to have the fifteen-minute option; but I didn’t advertise it. They were among my first customers, and their feet had developed a special relationship with me.I dipped my hands in a bowl of warm jasmine scented oil and gently gripped her left foot. The foot’s owner gave a soft moan as I began working the oil between her toes.“Hello mystery man,” she said. “I dream about you. You know that. Just a hint, what do you look like?”“Who do you want me to look like?”“Let’s not do that again,” she said, letting out a soft moan as I rolled both thumbs along the underside of her foot. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”“You said you wanted me to look like Johnny Depp, and I told you; I have been mistaken for him. I have that same mischievous turn of the mouth.” I said this as I rubbed the warm oil along the underside of her calves, and my fingers worked it into the large calf muscle.