Pamper My Feet

Helena walked in, blonde hair pinned up, suit rumpled, still muttering about meetings. Raul Costa caught the hint. Without a word he pulled off her heels, scooped her legs into his lap, and started rubbing those pretty feet with long, steady strokes. She closed her eyes, sighed like the weight of the whole damn spreadsheet finally lifted. He grinned, flicked his thumbs under each arch and said, “Long day, boss?” Helena just wiggled her toes, chuckled, and sank deeper into the couch. Fair warning: these foot rubs come with free city traffic.