Mind the Gap

Mind the gap. It’s strange to hear this phrase as we board the subway – the MTR as it’s known in Hong Kong.. But this was a British colony till 1997, after all. It is now the 21st century, 2004. We come here once or twice a year.

I check my watch; we are still okay. Mr. Ho offered to send a driver for us, but the MTR takes half the time. Cities with subway systems are so much easier to get around. A group of teenage girls is standing and sitting at the end of the car. Natalie has an eye for detail, and points out the frilly ankle socks the girls are wearing with their (again – it seems to be the uniform) stiletto heels. Their legs are quite skinny; later in life their legs will fill out; it appears to be inevitable. As they stand and sway, giggling to each other and squealing into their cell phones, they reveal other details: navel rings with long dangling pink stones; a tattooed character at the base of a spine, fingernails with some sort of glittery design on them. Oddly, they seem only remotely sexual; Natalie, sliding her hand up my thigh to my crotch, discovers my cock is flaccid, unexcited by these unaware girls. At the other end of the car is a young couple, clearly a few years older; she has one arm wrapped around his waist, her head buried in his chest as they, too, sway between stops. He plays with her hair; she shakes her head and giggles. She is wearing a tiny skirt, tight and shiny. A jacket top which masks her upper body. Strappy heels. They are still locked in their embrace when we disembark.

Natalie is wearing exquisite shoes tonight. It is quite common for women to be dressed up in Hong Kong. There is no telling which cities might have this characteristic. One of the most disappointing cities for couture on the street is, oddly, Paris. As if Parisians treat couture with disdain, and dress down, drab and boxy. Her favorite cities for dressing up? New York, Montreal, Toronto, San Francisco, London, Vancouver, Hong Kong. Oh, and Tokyo. Yes, Tokyo, for sure, where all the young people want to be cutting edge, with their 21st century cell phones, tiny cameras. Where they have the most complicated subway system in the world. Where they have vending machines that sell school girls’ panties.

Yes, her shoes are exquisite. Coming back from dinner on the MTR, she puts her feet together and smiles at them. The shoes are basically gold and strappy, with somewhat thicker straps, and the gold is metallic, reflecting different colours at times. The shoes are nevertheless dainty and elegant, despite the powerful statement they make. Her feet are very pale, with a very few freckles. Her toes are painted that glossy deep dark red that I like. I compliment her on her feet and shoes, then lift one of her legs and take her foot in my lap, and run my hand over the top of it, then my fingers along her arch, touching each toe gently, touching in between each toe. This drives her wild. Her tummy contracts visibly, and she jumps. We get out at Central and wind our way up to our hotel.

She leaves her shoes on, nothing else. I am sitting in the bathrobe, flipping through a magazine. She sits on the edge of the bed, her knees spread, her hands between her legs, sitting forward, smiling at me, her feet in her shoes pointing outward. She smiles beatifically. I know she wants me to adore her feet. At least that’s what I think she wants. Then she slides one foot up my calf, under the robe and along my thigh. She finds my cock. I lean back and undo the robe, letting my now stiff cock stand up, while she delicately moves her foot, and shoe, along it, around it, carefully lifting my balls. My cock is throbbing, pulsing, beating rhythmically with the blood beating through it. After a few minutes of this I reach down and remove her shoe, and beckon for the other foot, whose shoe I also remove. Then her soft, small feet resume their play with my cock and balls. As my precum starts to ooze, it coats her toes and the new slipperiness makes the sensations even more erotic. Intense. I grip the arms of the chair, trying to sustain the moment, the torture of this pleasure. I cum. My cum shoots up into the air three, four, five times with decreasing power, all over her feet and calves, running down off her heels, down her legs. She is grinning fiercely, then scampers over on her knees between my legs and takes my cock in her hand, licks it clean. I run my fingers through her hair and catch my breath. My god, I say, I am going to plan something for you. For you and your pretty, pretty feet. She grins up at me, so pleased with herself, like she just got an A, a good little schoolgirl.