Contribution
Title: Callie Brigg's Teasing Toes
Author: aQuarianFetishist
Requested By: Salamander Blue
Categories: SWAT Kats
Characters: Callie Briggs, OMC
Contains: Feet, Foot Fetish, Teasing, Foot Smelling, Toe Sucking
The long hours left her restless. She liked it best when she was out doing real work, doing good for the city. Even... facing down danger with those scoundrel pilots. However most days all she did was meander through mazes of cubicles and seas of desks with an occasional trip to the upper level where her heels would click and clack across tile floor. They were comfortable heels, pink with a modest rise, but her toes were antsy little things that needed to move. Seated at her desk they would press and wiggle in the leather, prying the shoe off of her foot and letting it dangle there. Her chair would squeak quietly as she swivelled it around, her hanging shoes getting caught on the supports and falling onto the carpet with soft thuds. Then she'd turn back seconds later and stretch her feet back inside those pink heels, her toes wiggling until they had a grip so the rest of her foot could slide in after. Over and over she'd repeat this ritual, sometimes dangling a bit longer, sometimes letting her anxious feet free for minutes at a time.
For Clay, it was hours. Long, torturous, lust-filled hours. Deputy Mayor Callie Briggs' office was in the middle of the floor with clear glass walls on all sides. Callie had told him once that the layout of his level had been her idea and that she'd surrounded her office with glass walls to show that she had nothing to hide.
"Transparency is the hallmark of Civic Government, Clay!" She'd said with inspired seriousness.
Clay cared little for politics but all the same he was thankful for Miss Brigg's "civic" attitude. It meant that he had a good show almost every work day. It meant he actually enjoyed getting up early in the morning to be the (close to first) person into the office, and usually the last to leave. Oh it was distracting and he got little work done most days, to be sure, but that could all be made up whenever Callie Briggs was out of the office, which was often enough to allow him to cram everything into a few rushed hours of furious typing and photo-copying. His station was right in front of desk with his own perpendicular to it. All he had to do was turn his head to the right and he had a clear view of the underside of her desk where everything below her calves was exposed. When it suited him, when he was feeling bold and stupid, he'd drop something off the side of his desk and lean down to pick it up, peeking discreetly up Callie's skirt as he did so. The shameful behaviour made his whisker's twitch and his ears curl. It also made his heart beat faster. He knew she couldn't see him, not with her dual monitors in the way, but a couple employees had given him queer looks before when he'd done it.
The first was an older cat, her fur so black it sparkled every so faintly blue in the right light. She was a good looking gal in her knee-length skirt, dark blue blazer, and matching blue heels, but her station was at the far end of that floor. When she'd spied Clay moving over one time he was sure that she'd report him and go running to the Deputy Mayor herself, but nothing had come of it.
"Maybe she gave me the benefit of the doubt?" He'd asked himself one lonely night in his apartment as he tried to swallow his lingering fears. More likely she'd had no real proof of anything so she'd kept her mouth shut, or maybe she HAD told Miss Briggs, but hadn't been believed? Callie did like him after all. Oh, not that THAT way, of-course. He wished it so, but Callie seemed to like more aggressive guys, out-going guys, dangerous guys. Not timid young men like Clay. All she liked about him was his polite attitude and spotless record.
The other employee who had seen him had made it very clear. A cocky alley-cat with dirty stripes and a flashy grin, he'd given one to Clay as he walked through his field of view one time. As Clay looked up at him in surprise he'd offered a thumbs-up. Ever since that little incident whenever Clay would pass him on the way to his desk, or bump into him anywhere else, he always gave him a nudge with his elbow and another one of those flashy grins.
Clay hadn't been at all worried about exposure from him. No doubt he was envious of Clay's location in the "seating arrangement". That alley cat was always hitting on the Deputy Mayor, always teasing and playing, and always being politely brushed off.
'If only he appreciated her the way I do,' Clay thought.
Months ago he had moved his computer monitor to the corner of his desk, allowing him to sit at an angle and "work" while he focused behind it, on the underside of Callie's desk. He was doing that now and she was giving him quite a show.
Callie was swivelled around in her chair, facing away from him. Her heels lay discarded at the bottom, the inside of one was pointed right at Clay. He loved that. He was close enough and his vision so acute that he could make out most of the details of her shoe's insole. It was a beige colour, but there was a subtle stain, a smudge, darkest at the heel and in the toe of the shoe, five little imprints. It was hard to make out, but the lighting was just enough... Oh, if only he could get closer.
Dancing and twisting atop the chair legs were the infamous feet themselves. Even seen straight on they had a noticeable curve. When not bent or twisted her soles were creamy and flawless, pillow soft. Many a day he had imagined what it they would feel like pressed against his face, or against his crotch. He'd fantasize about each one sensually gliding over him. They'd be fresh out of her heels, maybe after a long day at work. Ever so slightly damp, and warm, so warm, but with just a hint of a scent. Leather and sweat, and HER. His pants grew painfully tight.
She was flexing her toes now. Rhythmically her whole feet would scrunch and cause wrinkles to break out all across her soles. One foot dipped down into a hell, scooping it up, then the other. She appeared to lean back in her chair, her legs crossed in front of her (and now farther away, and harder to see). To compensate he had to do the same, pushing his chair back to the edge of his desk. As he leaned back her feet came into perfect view again. One high-heel clad foot was resting on the carpet, but the other dangled above. She was flexing her ankle, wiggling it back and forth, slow, then faster, then slow again... round and round, back and forth, back and forth, up, down, up... Then back of the shoe slid off and her heel exposed once more along with much of the sole of her foot. The shoe was held on by her toes, which now were at rest, allowing the heel to dangle motionless beneath her. Clay had a perfect view, able to stare right down into her shoe and up to the ball of her foot. Then her toes jerked and the shoe briefly rose up, closing off the gap as it latched onto her heel, but only for a second. This time it dangled preciously for a few seconds before clattering to the floor, her Callie's foot now left naked.
Mercifully, this didn't seem to concern her. Clay realized he was holding his breath and slowly let it out, a barely perceptible quiver in his throat. He glanced around quickly, but nobody was close by. It was late and already and most of the desks her empty. With earnest he returned to watching the 'show'. Callie was still facing away with her legs crossed, her foot still bare. She was slowly rolling her ankle as she'd done before, but now one of her hands was resting on it, her fingers pressing into the bottom of her foot.
She was giving herself a foot massage.
Clay grit his teeth and exhaled again. If only she would ask he would have been thankful to do the same for her. He would savour every second of it. One time he had nearly offered to give her a foot rub when they were working late one night, with just the two of them on the whole floor. He had been standing at her desk, talking with her about some report and during a lull in the conversation she had leaned back in her chair, yawned widely, her sharp teeth glistening, and murmured that her feet hurt. For several seconds Clay's voice had caught in his throat, but he just couldn't do it. Wouldn't it be too obvious? She'd taken his silence for like fatigue and suggested they each head home. Clay had stuttered some clumsy agreement and they had both departed. Ever since that night he'd been kicking himself.
'Next time I'll make the offer. I'll just do it jokingly... but if she agrees...'
She was rubbing her toes now, alternating between kneading the ball of her foot and spreading her toes with her fingers. As her fingers slid in between each digit her claws would push out, long, sharp, pale white, and immaculate. Callie Briggs never seemed to paint them. Clay didn't mind though, her feet were perfect as they were. Well, maybe a toe ring on one foot... an anklet too. Yes, he could see it now, dangling loosely juts above the joint. As her toes were bent back and forth, or moved in and out of her high heels he'd catch occasional glimmers from the toe ring, nestled in tightly, encased by the flesh of her delicate foot.
How would she get it one? She had such small feet, such feminine toes. It would be hard to find something in her size. They'd go together, shop around town and when they found the right shop she'd giggle and slide off one of her shoes and hold out her foot. He'd grab it gently with one paw, her warm sole pressing into his palm. Then with trembling fingers he'd slide a ring onto one of her toes. She'd wiggle them back and forth, the gleaming ring rubbed between them on either side.
"No, not that one..." Callie Briggs would say, her toes dancing.
Then he'd try another, and another, until they both agreed they'd found the right one. Maybe a ring with a tiny little gem it, his birth stone, so that a little piece of him would always be there with her, between her toes.
"I'll think about you whenever I play with my feet, Clay," he heard her tease in his fantasies.
Clay's routine continued for several more weeks, a month. He worked a little, watched a lot, and fantasized even more. Things were quiet around the city and Callie was in her office almost all day. It was dull for most, but never for Clay. He even discovered a new way to appreciate his boss's teasing tootsies when he chanced to run into her next to the photo-copier one day. She was bent over the machine trying to sort out some error with her shapely behind pointed up into the air. Behind it her elegant and bushy tail swished lazily, its golden fur sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. Most guys would have been mesmerized by that alone, and it didn't escape Clay's notice. However the real treat for him was, of-course, down at floor level.
For the first time he had the opportunity to check out her feet up close, and from a new angle to boot. Never before had he looked down at the tops, right along her spotless knees, down into her toe cleavage. As she growled and rummaged at the back of the machine, leaning forward more and more, almost onto her tip toes, the gap between her toes peaked out more and more. Then she'd slide forward again and her skin would get a small wrinkle where it met the top of her shoe.
'They must be so tight and constricting' he thought, mesmerized.
She finally took notice of him.
"Oh, Clay, sorry, need the machine?" Her nose twitched curiously, "You alright?" He was staring down at her feet.
Startled, the young cat finally met her gaze, his fur bristling with nervousness.
"Ah, yeah, I was just uh,"... he trailed off and looked about the room. To the window, the ceiling, the copier, her feet again... and then, "I was just worried the machine was broken. Um, you know, important report to send off and all... Heh heh..."
Her eyes seemed to dance, her tail doing the same.
"Well it's working now, so... go on," she said, patting him on the shoulder and moving passed him, out of the room. As she slid around him her tail brushed faintly against him. Once she was gone he let out a dazed sigh. He was yarn in her paws, to be unravelled and dangled helpless before her.
Thinking back on that incident made him smile, and he wasn't sure why. Had she figured him out? She'd shown no sign of it, but she had been more playful as late... and she'd worn some new pairs of heels. Pink ones and black ones, some white strappy-heels that were open-toed...
No, it was wishful thinking, the desperate wish of a lonely, tormented man, he told himself. However the thought just wouldn't leave him. Over the next several weeks he resolved to try and get to know her better. Maybe... even as more than a friend. She was single after all, but even just getting into her circle of friends would be something. He imagined trips with her to the beach, her feet bare in the bright sun for all the world, but mainly him, to see. Maybe even he would work late nights with her in her apartment, or over the weekend. He'd be so close to her bedroom, to her closet, where she'd keep all her different high heels and he would...
Clay stopped himself, literally shaking his head to try and clear away such dangerous thoughts. That was too far, much too far. Ogling was one thing, but what he was imagining doing now would just be plain disrespectful.
He resolved then that he'd tell her truth when the time was right.
From that day forward it was just a matter of building up his courage. Whenever he faltered he need only peek under Callie's desk and watch her heel dance. If he was to have any hope of being closer to those splendid soles he would have to be braver, and a little lucky. In the end, he got both. A very tricky file came his way and as fortune would have it, he needed his boss's help. It was important to the city and she had offered, insisted in fact, that she work with him closely on it. For the first week that just meant running a draft by her at the end of the night that she would review overnight.
He would stand there in her office, awkwardly staring at his own feet trying not to stare at hers. She would sit facing him, usually with one leg resting under her bottom. Out of the corner of his eye he'd spy her clawed-toes shifting and flexing. Whenever she'd turn back to her computer he'd chance a real look, but the angle was usually bad. All the could hope for was to gaze at her shoes themselves. One night when they'd been revising his work for several hours he found himself sat on the floor next to her chair, her exposed sole just inches from his face. A few furtive sniffs and he realized he could faintly smell it too, faint, and near exactly what he'd imagined. There was sweat and leather, yes, but something sweet, a trace of lotion perhaps. While Callie typed away at the report he almost dared move closer so that the tips of her toe-claws would brush against his cheek, but he dared not. Instead he settled for letting his wrist brush against the ball of her foot as he stood up, reaching up and backward to brace his hand on the desk. It was an awkward move but it seemed to work. Callie barely turned her head as she felt him brush against her.
Finally one miraculous evening she asked him if he'd mind following her home so they could work on it there, over dinner. It was very late and he was quite drowsy, but he quickly snapped awake.
He had to take a few moments to collect himself. The realization hadn't really dawned on him yet.
"Uh, sure... why not... okay," he yawned away the last of his fatigue and stood up out of the chair he'd been sitting in.
Callie offered a sweet smile and then turned back to her computer, and the report.
"Let me finish this paragraph and I'll meet you down in the parking garage, kay?"
Her tail swished mysteriously.
Clay, being quickly overcome with excitement, was barely able to murmur out his agreement and then then hurry out of the office. He even walked straight passed his desk, and his keys, having to turn back sheepishly to snatch them there resting place next to his coffee cup.
Minutes later and he was sitting in his car, staring at hers. Callie's car was much nicer than his, but it made sense as she was his boss after after all. It was a flashy red convertible, fast and sporty, and fun. He wondered if she ever had the time to just cruise around it, speeding a long on some of the county roads maybe, or on the coast. Her foot press down hard on the gas pedal, her leather heels crinkling, her toes squeezed...
She entered the garage, sauntering a few feet from his car and offering him a quick wave as they briefly locked eyes.
Swallowing his anticipation Clay started his car...
The Deputy Mayor lived in a nice neighbourhood, of-course. Clay reckoned that if he saved up all his money for a few years and got several promotions he might be able to afford one of the smaller condos here... for a few months maybe. As it turned out Callie's wasn't all that big, just a simple one bedroom place with a kitchen, dining room, living room, and a patio. It was one unit in a row of units connected together, far more open and fancy than his cramped little place built into a man-made honeycomb. He felt like an insect there... and here too, maybe.
It wasn't the building though, it was who he was with. The more he saw how Callie lived the more apparent it was just how out of his league she was. Suddenly he felt like a downy little kitten in first grade trying to hit on his teacher... but then Callie wasn't that much older than him.
'She's just so driven and dedicated, but I could do it too...'
"Well, here we are!" Callie announced as the door to her condo swung open and she stepped inside, flicking on the light. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, okay? I'm just gonna change real quick."
Before heading to her bedroom she removed her high heels.
Clip.
Clop.
They rattled onto the tile and Clay instinctively looked down at the noise, his tail snapping around excitedly. If Callie took any notice of his interest she didn't show it. A few seconds later a door closed down the hall.
Clay licked his lips and settled down on the armrest of a nearby couch. He removed his jacket, laying it over the back, and then knelt down to untie his shoes, bringing his face within a few feet of Callie's now discarded high heels. He quivered. Perhaps it would do no harm if he took just one tentative sniff... he couldn't help himself any longer. Clay leaned forward and grasped one of the heels with his hand. It was warm. He could feel it even on the outside of the shoe. As he fumbled it around in his hand his fingers reached inside and warmth was even more intense there. Hot even, and slightly damp. Slowly, nervously, his tail snapping back and forth, his fur bristling in places, he brought the opening of the heel to his nose and drew in a deep breath.
Heat and moisture... leather and sweat, salty and slightly sour, pungent but not unpleasant. It wasn't too strong, it was clean, just well worn. Somehow it was a feminine scent, to him at least.
He set the shoe down with a trembling paw.
Suddenly Clay felt like a creep, but he was exhilarated as well. After so long he finally had the full picture in his mind. Ogling her dangling heels and playful toes would never be the same.
"Caught you..." teased a soft voice from the entrance to the hall. He'd never heard the door open because it never had. Turning to look at her, bristling with embarrassment, he realized that she'd been waiting in the dark bathroom at the far end of the hallway, watching.
"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" Callie Briggs asked, sauntering with each step, her jacket cast aside and her shirt partly undone.
Clay was at a loss for words.
"Oh I know you must be embarrassed and ashamed, but your secrets' safe with me," she leaned back against a wall and held her leg out, the sole of her foot pointed at him. "You aren't a good sneak anyway. I've seen you drooling over my feet for weeks now." Her eyes narrowed playfully, "You're not as sneaky as you think you are."
He wasn't sure how to feel. Embarrassed? Guilty? Relieved? He tried to apologize,
"Callie, uh, Miss Briggs, I'm sorry I know shouldn't have-"
She waved a hand. Her tail swished. "Oh shush, I'm not angry, but you should make it up to me..." Her toes dug into the carpet, her foot scrunching. Eyes cast down.
Clay failed to avert his gaze. His tongue slid along his lips while his ears swiveled about. He waited for her to make the demand... and waited. Her tail kept swishing and she was grinning evilly. She was silent. If he wanted this then he would have to say it. He swallowed hard and then opened his mouth to speak. At first nothing came out, but he tried again,
"I... I could give you uh... I could rub your... feet if they hurt... I don't mind if... I mean if you're okay with th-a-t-..."
Callie laughed, waving her hand and rolling her eyes up at him, "Oh fine, I guess that will do! I've tortured you enough."
Grinning, she sashayed over to the couch and plopped down beside the armrest he'd been sitting on. "Well, come on!"
With a giddy spasm Clay obliged, sitting down cross legged in front of her and taking her right foot in both hands. He had never given a foot massage before, but all he could reason to do was what came naturally. Resting her dainty foot in his lap he began to kneed and rub the sole with his thumbs, pressing and swirling and rubbing. Periodically he would move his hands down to her heel, sometimes working the sides of her ankle, then he'd gradually work his way towards the tip of her foot, massaging the ball of her foot, right at the base of her toes, and then her toes themselves, gently rubbing the underside against his palm. After a while he repeated the process with her other foot.
Callie was relaxed against the cushions, purring softly, her eyes slits behind half-closed lids. He was rubbing her right foot again, his eyes staring at her perfect nails, when he was momentarily startled by something pressing against his chin. It was her other foot, the claws slightly extended, prodding at his fur, the tips of her toes just below his lips...
He realized he had stopped his hands when her eyes started to open and quickly resumed. His lips parted soon after and he resisted the urge to gasp in pleasure as he felt her soft toes slide inside. He suckled on them with earnest, savouring each moment, each toe. Sometimes he tasted them all together, and then each individually. Sucking on Callie Brigg's toes and rubbing her foot at the same time proved to be a little bit more than Clay could manage, but at some point she took pity on him and he realized that her other foot was pressing against his crotch, sliding back and forth over the top of it.
In no time at all he found he had spent himself and her toes slid out of his mouth, gliding down his shirt (the claws tearing it in a few places), and then coming to rest in his crotch. Callie's eyes were barely open now, but she was purring louder, and so was he. With regret he took her feet from his lap and then shakily rose to his feet. His legs had gone mostly to sleep.
Clay was going to need a change of clothes.
A/N A big thank you to aQuarianFetishist for allowing me to post this here, I highly recommend you guys go check out their account if you enjoyed this chapter. Since the website keeps removing the link, you can find more of his work by searching his username and including deviantart in google.
Don't forget to vote in the poll, this week is Maryjane MJ Watson from Spiderman The Animated Series
