1. Pretty Feet


    Date: 11/4/2017, Categories: Fetish, Author: NymphWriter, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    clean and dry, I got dressed. Mr. Cagaha fixed his pants and returned to his desk. I grabbed my purse and began to leave when he said, “Don’t forget your money, Pretty Feet.” I paused. I knew I needed the money, but I couldn’t help but feel like a whore. I swallowed my pride and stepped over to the desk, only now there were three stacks. “What’s this?” “A bonus for making me cum the way you did.” I bit my lower lip, then grabbed the three stacks of cash, shoved them into my purse, mumbled, “Thank you,” and ran for the door. I’m sure he said something, but I was too busy running. The salon was empty, the door was locked, and it was dark outside. I looked around and realized the door was a double key. Mr. Cagaha stepped out, gave me a kind smile, and said as he unlocked the door, “In case you didn’t hear me, I said you were welcome and I hope we can do business again soon.” He opened the door and the cool night air coated my skin. There was a freshness surrounding me as I fumbled with my keys and unlocked my car. I noticed Mr. Cagaha watched until I drove away. I was convinced I was going to get caught with all this money in my purse, but that never happened. I arrived home, to my nearly empty apartment, hid the money, and cried. I told myself that I would get money orders for my rent and utilities after my interview, and buy some groceries. I showered, then did my best to sleep. The next morning I showered again, got dressed, and drove to my interview. The Little Boutique ...
    Salon was exactly what the name implied: small, intimate, and expensive. There was a faint aroma of roses mixing with the smell of hair care products. I felt out of place in my outfit, but it was the best one I had in my wardrobe. The young woman behind the counter smiled and said, “How may I help you?” “I have an interview with Ms. Quezada,” I said. “Name?” “Rita Hayward.” The woman gave me a quizzical look, then led me back. It was a look I was used to, especially when your name occurs in a Madonna song. Ms. Quezada’s office was similar to Mr. Cagaha’s office, only without the salon chair and foot bath. “Ah, Ms. Hayward,” she said, extending her hand to me, “please, sit down.” “Thank you,” I said, shaking her hand and sitting in my seat. “Have any trouble finding us?” “No, ma’am.” “Wonderful. I see you’re here for our receptionist opening.” “I am indeed.” “Wonderful, would you mind filling out a few forms for me?” Ms. Quezada handed me a clipboard with some papers. As I began to fill them out I realized they were an I-9 and a W-4. “Excuse me Ms. Quezada, do you normally have an interviewee fill out employment forms?” Ms. Quezada chuckled. “No. But when Mr. Cagaha calls you personally and demands you hire the young woman with the Hollywood name, you do what he says.” “He what?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Called me last night in fact. Even said he’d hire you himself if he had the opening. Tell me something, did you sit in his special chair?” I felt my cheeks instantly burn. ...
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