A/N: Okay, I'm a total massage freak, as you may have guessed (and if not, you will by the end of this). But what better way to get their hands on each other? This is another introspective chapter without a lot of dialogue. The interaction between them should speak for itself.

…

Later, back at Lily's apartment, she can tell Nina is still brooding. If only she didn't make all of this so difficult; Nina's got more hang-ups to work around than Lily ever imagined. For a few minutes she considers the most obvious solution, but no. It's still too early for seduction, and especially not when Nina is half expecting another betrayal. Funny how that thought keeps cropping up in her mind, though.

Lily chuckles at herself. Denial isn't her thing, so she admits it to herself: she's definitely attracted to Nina. Whatever this is between them, it's damn near magnetic. Lily sees the way Nina is drawn to her, the lingering looks, the half-stifled sighs. She's fairly certain Nina hasn't caught on to her own sidelong glances. Hell, Nina has no way to know just how much Lily has yielded for her sake.

She can't possibly know how important it is that she's staying here, how reluctant Lily usually is to share her space. Lily hasn't had a roommate in years, living in tiny apartments with peeling plaster at times rather than have someone else in her home. Even this place has its drawbacks, interior doors that won't latch and only three rooms, but it's the best she can afford on her own. Freedom is important to Lily, the freedom to come and go as she pleases, to stay somewhere else for a couple of nights if she wants without anyone questioning her.

But with Nina, it's somehow okay. Not that it isn't a surprise, coming home each day to company, and it's occasionally an annoyance having to share the single bathroom when they're both trying to get ready in the mornings. Still, Lily doesn't feel fettered the way she used to when finances forced her to live with roommates. Maybe it's because Nina barely makes herself known most of the time, having less impact than a ghost haunting the apartment.

That thought sends a chill down Lily's spine. Nina came all too close to death for it to be a comfortable comparison. Whenever worries like that surface, Lily finds herself checking on Nina.

The older girl is watching television while curled up on the sofa bed, which these days nearly always stays opened out. She has one of those incredible classic faces that are beautiful without makeup, in bad light, whatever. Lily smiles to see her there; the first couple days, she wouldn't turn on the TV without asking Lily's permission. Now she's growing more comfortable, though she's still considerate, keeping the volume turned low and the closed-captioning on.

Lily drops onto the other end of the bed, not too close, and turns toward Nina. "Gimme your feet, ballerina," she says, patting her knee. Nina complies without hesitation; maybe the trust between them hasn't suffered as much as she thought.

Dancer's feet would never excite a foot fetishist. You have to be a dancer to appreciate the work and skill behind the calluses, bruises, and abrasions. Lily has some foot lotion with juniper extract, very invigorating stuff, and slathers it on Nina's feet. For whatever reason, Nina's are in worse shape than her own – maybe because of the couple years' difference in their ages, maybe because Nina practices more obsessively, maybe because she just doesn't think to take care of herself, instead choosing to suffer nobly for her art.

Lily works her way up to Nina's ankle and feels the strong calf muscle tense. Ah, so Nina is still wary. She has no intention of going higher, though, and only pauses there to take the pressure off the Achilles tendon. It's her favorite part of a foot massage, an incredibly weird yet incredibly good feeling, and Nina leans back in utter abandon, her eyes sliding closed. Then it's back to rubbing the sole and rotating her ankle, relaxing all the myriad joints.

Once both of Nina's feet are done, Lily props hers up with a charming grin. Nina takes the trade without a word, and soon it's Lily's turn to sigh and turn into jello. Her eyelids start to flutter as Nina eases the tape off her toes, her touch so gentle it barely registers.

Only then does Lily think of how symbolic these foot rubs really are. None of her lovers have ever touched her feet. That one guy who wanted to suck her toes, she got rid of him without ever taking her shoes off in his presence. It's not that she's ashamed of her feet, since every bump and break was honestly gotten in the line of duty. More like the fact that she's always been unwilling to share the less perfect parts of herself.

The rest of her body is great, and she knows it – trim tummy, nice rack, sexy ass, and of course killer legs. Her feet are the only part that could ever be called ugly, the only thing she hides, keeping them concealed in stiletto-heeled boots even when the rest of her is on display.

Her first dance instructor was the one who taught her about massage, and Lily's startled to realize that she's only ever let a few people do this for her. Usually other dancers she was close with, and back home that's way more common than here. New York dancers are a competitive bunch, nothing like the company she'd left, where everyone was like family. A squabbling family, sometimes, but nowhere near as vicious as these girls.

Nina is the only exception to that, as she seems to be in many things. Just as Lily realizes that, Nina slides one hand up to her ankle. "How did you do that?" she asks.

Lily answers her with a grin, knowing what's coming. She's missed this since California. "Thumb on the outside, first knuckle on the inside. There's a pressure point in there behind the tendon and just below the point of the anklebone. Just press hard and kinda squeeze… Ohhh…"

She hadn't known Nina had such strong hands, and Lily moans as the tension bleeds out of her entire leg. For a second she can feel Nina hesitating, maybe wondering if the sound is pleasure or pain, and Lily growls, "Harder," as she slides down to lie flat. It's suddenly too much effort to stay upright.

It does hurt, just a little, but it's a pleasurable ache. Lily wears heels so often that her calf muscles tend to get tight, and this is the first time in too long that she's gotten a really deep massage. It feels heavenly, and when Nina switches to the other foot Lily lets out another throaty moan, not even caring how she sounds or how she looks, sprawling flat on her back beside Nina.

The older girl slides her hand up inside Lily's tights, kneading her calf, and Lily can only purr appreciatively. It occurs to her that this is perhaps the perfect way to regain Nina's trust, by demonstrating that she trusts Nina absolutely. The fact that she does trust Nina that much, even knowing what she knows, would be a little scary if she weren't relaxed beyond the point of reacting.

Nina stops what she's doing, pausing for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is rough; the sound effects must have been getting to her. "Roll over."

Lily half-opens her eyes to see Nina's gaze searing her. She complies, stretching out on her stomach, and Nina rises to her knees as she starts to work her way up from Lily's feet to her shoulders. Oh hell, it's been way, way too long since she had a full massage, and even if this is Nina's excuse to get her hands on Lily's body, she doesn't mind. It feels too damn good to do more than murmur appreciation.