Page 500 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Excellent. Please head into our private seating area. I’ll meet you there.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow at me as she watched the clerk walk away with her selections. “You’re a regular in the women’s shoe department?”

“I’m a regular in every department here. Remember, my business is fashion. Half the time it’s research.”

Natalie followed me to a pair of green velvet chairs that were hidden away in a corner of the private room. “So, I don’t have to be jealous about you bringing your many women here?”

That surprised me. Natalie, jealous?

“Please. I’m married to my job, you should know that.”

She gave me a funny look and sat down in the chair, pulling off her Doc Martens and then tucking her bare feet beneath the chair. “Don’t look at my toes, okay?”

The clerk came back carrying four boxes. “I took the liberty of bringing two other comparable pairs that I thought you might like.” He set them down on the floor and started to pull a stool up in front of Natalie.

“I’ve got this, thank you,” I said, blocking him with my arm.

“Are you sure?” he asked, glancing between us. “I’m happy to help.”

“We’re sure,” Natalie answered quickly, tucking her feet even farther beneath her chair.

He walked away frowning, probably worried about his commission, but I’d already noted his name tag and would make sure to mention it at the till.

“All right, miss,” I said, plopping down on the stool in front of her. “Foot, please.”

“James.” She squirmed. “They’re really gross.”

I ignored her, reaching down to open one of the shoe boxes while holding my hand out to her. “Foot.” It was a command.

“Fine,” she sighed, slowly placing her scrunched up bare foot in my hand.

I examined it, turning it back and forth and then bringing it up high.

“James.” She laughed as I raised her foot even higher. “I’m not a contortionist.”

I leaned closer to whisper to her. “I seem to remember some unique positions the other night.”

Natalie’s eyes went wide and then she smacked me playfully, laughing.

“Your feet are fine,” I said, turning it from side to side so I could see all of the angles. “Yes, you could use a pedicure, but they’re otherwise unremarkable.”

She smacked me again with mock anger. “Excuse me? Unremarkable? Try again.”

“Apologies.” I bowed my head. “They’re absolutely perfect in every way. The most beautiful feet I’ve ever seen.” I ran my hand along the top of her left foot and continued up her leg, massaging her soft skin.

Natalie glanced around, fully aware of what I was suggesting with just my touch. “Shoes,” she said in a breathy voice. “We need to try on shoes.”

I ignored her and ran my hand up and down her leg for a few seconds, then slipped the red stilettoes on her feet, tying perfect bows at the back of her ankles.

“Walk for me,” I commanded.

I half expected her to hobble given how high the things were, but Natalie strode away from me with the poise of a runway model. The muscle in her calves and thighs flexed as she walked, and I shifted to try to suppress the growing tension between my legs.

She glanced around the place on her way back to me and came to a stop right in front of where I was sitting and planted her feet wide, in a power pose. The height of the stool put her crotch at my eye-level.

“You like?” she purred softly, winding her fingers through my hair.

I stifled a groan. “I’m addicted,” I said, quickly running my hand up her thigh and slipping it into the gap between her jean shorts and her leg. I didn’t care if anyone could see us, I needed to touch her now. My finger grazed the silk of her underwear, and she caught her breath.