1. Sundara - Part 2


    Date: 12/10/2015, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: blin18, Rating: 8, Source: LushStories

    Australian as my parents behave; I still have not discussed my career with them. They expect that I will go to university next year to study science or IT, but more and more I have been considering applying to the Australian Institute of Sport for a netball scholarship. And everybody says I should do modelling … what would my parents say about that? “Rajit, can I ask a personal question?” “Only if you tell me your name,” he said in deep tones that I was beginning to find very manly and attractive. “That way we won’t be strangers.” I looked back up into his smiling eyes. “I’m Rupali,” I said, holding out my hand to shake. He took my hand firmly but gently, his skin felt warm and soft and gave me a bit of a tingle. “The name Rupali also means ‘beautiful’,” he said, “although I’m sure you already knew that.” I did. I thought he was going to say something cheesy like ‘a beautiful name for a beautiful girl’ – or worse – but he didn’t. “Now that we are introduced, Rupali, you may ask your personal question.” I picked up a patent leather lace-up pump (laces are so, so sexy) and continued to browse as we talked. “How did you explain your career to your parents?” I asked. “And how did they react?” “I am sorry,” he laughed. “I have misled you; this is not my career. I completed a Bachelor of Science with a Physiology major last year and have enrolled for a Bachelor of Podiatry at the University of Sydney next year. I took a gap year to work in a shoe shop; here I will see more feet in ...
    twelve months than I will in twelve years of private practice, so I should get a very good idea of whether I want to devote my career to feet.” I felt a little flood of warmth through my core; oh my goodness, a tall, handsome man with a double-degree, I’m such a snob to like him more because he is educated. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean …” “No,” he smiled, holding up a hand. “Again there is no need for apologies.” Then changing the subject to save me again: “Those shoes are very beautiful,” he said, taking it from me. “Would you like to try them on? I believe they will suit you very well.” “Um, OK,” I said. “Yes please.” I felt another surge of adrenalin as I remembered why I was here. I saw Belinda smile at me from across the store and give me two thumbs up. “What size are you?” he said, looking down at my feet. “A ladies size eight?” “That’s right!” I said, more impressed than I ought to have been at such a simple trick for someone with a good eye. “I take an eight-and-a-half in some shoes because the right foot is too snug; I think it’s a little bigger.” “Let me get the Brannock and we’ll find out for sure,” he said, taking a few steps away and returning with one of those stainless steel foot measuring devices. “If you don’t mind Rupali, I will take the measurement standing,” he explained as he kneeled and placed what he called the Brannock beside my right foot. I was about to kick off my school sandals when he looked up at me (I wondered how much closer he would ...
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