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“I figured the red would be good for next weekend.”
She looks back at me, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
“You got me nail polish?”
“You change it every Sunday, right?” I’ve noticed she’s had a new color on every week we’ve been seeing each other.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Got this, too.” I pull out the box.
“The Olive and June complete manicure set?” She hugs it to her chest, squeezing it lovingly before planting a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you. Or should I thank Jeannie? She’s really got me dialed in. I think we would be best friends.”
I chuckle at her goofy smile.
I don’t bother telling her that I picked out the nail polish. That yesterday afternoon I wandered down the aisles of the Target near Times Square, which I normally avoid at all costs, and selected the polish and manicure set that I thought she’d like.
I don’t need the credit; the smile on her face is enough.
* * *
“Okay…you can paint my toes.” I finally give in to Sophie’s persistent request to paint something on me. I’m not going to show up to work tomorrow with my fingernails painted, but toenails, I can handle.
Sophie sets the nail polish bottles on the counter, her newly painted candy apple red nails flashing as she waves her hands in their direction. “What color would you like?”
“What do you recommend?” I ask playfully.
Her lips twist to the side, thinking hard. “I think this lovely sky blue will really complement your dark toe hair.”
“That’s very important. I’m glad you considered that.”
While Sophie was painting her nails, I opted to bring my laptop into the living room to be near her while I worked. I’m still sitting in one of my living room’s overstuffed chairs when she kneels in front of me.
She smiles, shaking the bottle of polish before twisting the lid off and lifting my foot into her lap.
As she paints, I’m starting to get turned on by the visual of her kneeling in front of me.
I set my laptop on the table beside me and lean back in the chair. Her face is angled down, her nose scrunched up in concentration, her blonde ponytail draped over her shoulder.
My cock twitches.
The cool paint hits the skin around my pinky toenail and I jerk.
“Sorry, ticklish.”
She moves to my other foot and with adept ease, paints those nails just as quickly.
When she sits back, I admire her work.
“Looks good.”
“Now, you have to let it dry.”
“So, I just sit here?”
She twists the nail polish lid on and sets the bottle on the table next to my laptop.
“It’s quick dry, so you should be good to go in five minutes.”
