Aunt Liz

[atgirlfeet]

As I got older, I spent less and less time at my aunt Liz’s house, resulting in giving her fewer and fewer foot massages. Ever since my cousin Brad had gone to live with his dad, I just didn’t have as much reason to go over to her house. Consequently, the only time I really saw Liz alone, or at least without my mother present, was when I would get haircuts from her. On one such occasion, I was her last appointment of the evening and we were the only ones left in her hair salon. She had already worked all day and I felt bad she was staying late to cut my hair. “Thank you so much, Auntie Liz. You should really let me pay you for this cut,” I offered. “Oh Sweetie, I could never charge family. But thank you for being such a gentleman by offering,” she replied, kindly. I knew she’d decline money but there was another form of payment I knew she wouldn’t likely refuse. “Well, your feet have to be killing you after such a long day. The least I could do is give you a foot rub—it’s been awhile!” Her demeanor completely changed, as she excitedly answered, “It has been awhile! That would be wonderful!”
 
Liz continued cutting my hair, and just before finishing, she requested, “You don’t mind rubbing my feet here in the salon, do you? I have some things I need to wrap up before I can leave.” Although we were alone, the inside of the salon was fairly exposed to those walking by outside. It made me a little uncomfortable but I didn’t want to disappoint her. “Sure, no problem,” I agreed. “Okay then, why don’t you help sweep up and then you can rub my feet while I listen to my voicemails,” she suggested. Not only did I sweep up my own hair, but I swept the entire salon, and then took the trash to the outside dumpster.
 
When I came back inside, Liz had taken a seat in one of the salon chairs. She was wearing a long yellow sundress and jewel-studded, black leather sandals. In that moment, I remember thinking she looked like a queen sitting in her throne. The only thing that was missing was a gold crown on her head. That said, she did have a lot of gold jewelry on, including an ankle bracelet and toe rings, bringing even more attention to those pretty feet of hers. She was already listening to her voicemails with the phone held to her ear and notepad in hand as I knelt in front of her. Without even being asked, I removed her sandals and briefly held them to my nose before setting them aside. Although she didn’t comment, her smile told me she appreciated my gesture, no doubt remembering it was how she had taught me years before. The scent of her sandals was mild compared to what it would have been had she worn flats, but I still loved it.
 
Without further delay, I proceeded to massage her feet. It really was amazing how soft they were considering her job required her to be standing all day. I concentrated hard, trying to make it the best foot massage I had ever given her. As a side note, whether it was Liz or Becca, I always aimed for each foot massage they received from me to be better than the last. Normally I got gratification from Liz’s trademark moans, which I would take as praise, but she was obviously very pre-occupied with her messages. Her ignoring me, combined with her seated so high above me in the salon chair, felt incredibly humbling. The feeling only intensified my desire to please her.
 
Finally done with listening to her messages, she said, “Mmm, this is such a nice way to end the day. I think I’ll have to start cutting your hair more often.” I smiled at her as I responded, “Well, I’m sure you’ve given me a lot more haircuts than I’ve given you foot rubs, so guess I have some catching up to do.” “I guess you do! So then, when is the next time you’re rubbing my feet? I want to put it on my calendar,” she joked. “No reservation needed, Auntie Liz--I’m happy to rub your feet whenever you like,” I offered generously, perhaps sounding more eager than I had intended. “You’re such a sweetie,” Liz praised. I continued massaging her feet for probably another 20 minutes before she suggested she should get home. I slid her jewel-studded, black leather sandals back on her feet and gave them a lite pat to signify the end of my service. Becca would have had me bow my head and kiss her feet at that point, and if there was ever a moment it seemed appropriate to do the same for my aunt Liz, it was then.

[femaleworship]

nice