We were both unclothed and naked, Meredith and I. Both of us were about the same size, each four inches tall. Exhausted, spent, miserable, and lonely, she found it easy to sympathize with me, and sympathy blossomed naturally in both of us into a rank craving for the other’s body. Adela had soaped Meredith off, and the unlikely combination of coconut and peach fruit wafted up from her bare stomach, plump breasts, and hard nipples. I think that I still smelled like Holly—in any case, we met at an equal point; and despite her tiredness, and my emptiness, we somehow ended up in each other’s arms. And then darkness passed over us.
Holly’s shadow spread over her pillow where Meredith and I were making love. I didn’t know how long she had been standing there. Maybe she watched for five minutes. Or, maybe, she saw everything.
We were embarrassed and separated instantly, patting each other on the upper shoulders, gently squeezing each other’s thighs and waists with our hands. I felt very silly, and when I looked at Meredith I saw that she felt the same. An absurd and uncanny feeling rested over the scene, as though stale manna had just fallen from heaven. Like we were an ill-drawn Adam and Eve from a children’s bible. Holly smiled in a friendly way, and sat down on the bed at a distance from us. The mattress redistributed her weight, and rolled under us like a wave. She took out some eyeshadow from her pocket, and studied herself in the flipped-up mirror. Then she tilted her chin to us, and snapped her fingers in our direction.
“No, please continue. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
I looked at Meredith, and when she looked back at me, for a half-second the color rose in her cheeks. Then she controlled herself. I was at a loss. Holly snapped her case of eyeshadow and placed it in one of the purses hanging off the end of the bed. Finally she turned to us: “I said continue.”
Neither of us moved. Meredith spoke heatedly: “This is going too far, Holly—I won’t stand for it.” Now her cheeks burned brightly. “I won’t stand for it! Why am I here! Why do you want me! Tell me that, and spare me your stupid charades!” I felt proud of her, at that moment. (My heart warms when I bring it back to mind, after all these years, the way she looked, and the words she said.)
Methodically, with the most extreme care and attention, Holly removed her well-worn right slipper, and set it down on the floor. Then she reached out her hand, and closed it around Meredith. Her long, delicate fingers descended lower, lower, and lower, until they stopped at the innermost part of the slipper. I thought this was the end of it—but then Ms. Holly eyed me, also, and after a moment’s pause, reached a decision. Her face lit up with intelligence, and she grabbed me.
“I’m sorry, Martin. I would like you to know that all this is really for Meredith, and not for you. Grin and bear it.”
I might have said, “I’ve never been more tired in my life,” or something else, but I don’t think I had time to say anything. Before I could finish, Holly said, “Hush!” and roughly tossed me into the same slipper, almost on top of Meredith. My right arm was bruised, and my brains shook around inside my skull for a little bit, until I raised my head and smelled Holly’s feet in the semi-dark. Meredith seemed very nervous, and at first didn’t approach me. But Holly expected this. She picked up the slipper and held it level with her eye: “I told you to finish,” she said. “And I’m very serious. Do it.” That was really all it took to get Meredith to creep toward me. We embraced and began to fondle each other, halfheartedly. Satisfied with what she saw, Holly set the shoe back down on the floor beside her feet.
We went on like this for about two minutes, before the inevitable happened, and Holly stuck her foot inside and, with her toes, rolled us down underneath her sole which, on first contact, was cold as newfallen snow, and, after the exertions of the day, obnoxiously smelly. I was on top of Meredith, so she was taking in the best part and the full power of Holly’s odor.
When it was too late to stop, Meredith said, “Oh, I can’t.” She tried to withdraw. “This is too much.” Holly felt this, and pushed down on us lightly with the ball of her foot, and rocked me headforemost, backward and forward. To Meredith, I don’t know what it felt like. Perhaps it felt like some—at this point, to be honest, chapped and semi-flaccid—rudder moving this way and that, forcing itself against choppy waves. Or a blunt hatchet whacking away at the least vulnerable side of a tree. Or an ass pulling the ropes to a bladeless plow through the old furrows of a fallow field. I’m sure it was unpleasant, but Holly forced me onward to the utmost of repletion, that drunk who lives just down the street from “Oh God, I can’t do this shit anymore.” We finished.
Just before my teacher finally pulled away, and finished whatever it was she was doing, I had pulled out and flopped over beside Meredith. We were both underneath her foot, face upwards, though Meredith’s face was wedged just below Holly’s third and fourth toes. What struck me was that Meredith was breathing in deeply, taking huge draughts of Holly’s feet. At first she was short of breath, so I ignored it.
But a minute later, when she had some time to calm down in the few seconds after Holly had removed her foot, Meredith was still inhaling big lungfuls of the smell. I elbowed her, and wondered if she was crying. She stopped abruptly, and then turned onto her side, facing me. The wool of the slipper was dark and moist with sweat. “What did you say,” she asked. Her eyes were glazed and there was a huge smile plastered over her face. I just stared at her, letting it all sink in. Was it possible? Could she have enjoyed that? I didn’t have much of an edge, but if anyone took a groaning, Meredith took one that afternoon inside the slipper. Holly found that woman’s limits that day, and crossed them.
Before my teacher shook us out into the palm of her hand, Meredith whispered something to me: “I didn’t tell you,” she said. “I have a major foot fetish.” My mouth was agape so long that Meredith told me to shut it—she was afraid a bird was going to fly out and peck her in the face. I laughed—I mean I really laughed—for the first time in months. Whatever Adela’s crazed love wanted from me on Sunday, I was determined to be ready for it. I was ready for anything.
“But don’t tell that giantess, that madwoman”—I stopped her there. Curling her lip, Meredith accepted the correction: “Okay. Then don’t tell Holly about me. Do you understand?” She was anxious, for a moment, and quite unlike the woman I met yesterday afternoon. “She’ll take advantage of me, and I don’t trust her.” I said I wouldn’t say a thing, but guessed—and guessed rightly, it turned out—that Holly had already gathered this information, and had confirmed it after noting the unusual enthusiasm Meredith showed when she was inside her slipper. Plus, this wasn’t something Meredith could hide from Holly for long. But she rubbed my shoulder and said, “Thanks.”
Before Holly descended the stairs for dinner, I asked her if it was true that I was to spend the next day with Adela. She look surprised, and said that that was the first she’d heard of it. Adela hadn’t spoken to you about it? I haven’t seen her all day, she said, while casually picking up Meredith between her toes and engulfing her little body underneath her foot, inside the slipper. I knew how her life would be, at least until Tuesday, and I didn’t envy her. (Inwardly I resolved to talk with Meredith about this after dinner.)
“We’ll talk with Adela, then. She should have come to me first.” Holly stuck me in the pocket of her robe. When we were halfway across the room, she stopped suddenly and stared at me. She murmured, with the trace of a chuckle, “I don’t believe it. She’s licking my toes.”
With that, she swept out of the room, and I heard Adela’s door open, and her higher, younger voice follow her mother’s down the stairs to the dining room. I remember that the smell of chicken and rice filled my nostrils. My heart fluttered with fear and elation, with that high certainty of a sure thing that one feels in the presence of love—of love, and a big tableful of food.