I stood in front of the salon with the Groupon printout in my hand. I held it like an award I had won and was proud to have. It was a pick-me-up gift from my mother for when I got my next interview or two. That was why I was here, to get my nails done for an interview I had the next day. I wanted to get my hair done, but – well, my budget wasn’t going to handle that, no matter what.

As it was, I had lost my cell phone, land-line, internet, and I was barely keeping the rent paid and the lights on. Thank God for the local library. I could check emails and apply for jobs, as well as read a few books to help kill the boredom of my life. I had sold nearly everything I owned and the bottom of my barrel was pretty well scraped clean. This interview was the first I’d had in weeks and if I didn’t get this job, I’d be homeless very soon.

I stepped in and right away knew I didn’t belong. This was a high-end salon where women paid hundreds of dollars to get their hair and nails done. The beautifully adorned menu of services showed they not only did hair and nails, but also massages, waxing, eyebrow threading, and reflexology, whatever that was. I walked up to the counter and held my breath.

“Yes,” said the receptionist. She looked bored with her hair pinned up in a chignon and makeup perfectly styled.

“I… um… I have… um… an appointment?” I said.

“You’re not sure?” moaned the receptionist, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No… um… I am sure. I have an appointment to get my nails done.”

“Manicure or pedicure?”

“Both, according to this Groupon,” I said, and handed her my printout.

“Ugh!” groaned the receptionist, as she rolled her eyes and took my paper. “Only people looking for a cheap service get a Groupon.”

I was crushed. “It was a gift from my mother,” I replied.

“Name?”

“Rita Hayward.”

The receptionist gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

The receptionist stepped into the back and I considered just leaving when a bubbly brunette came up and introduced herself as Ciera. Unlike the nasty receptionist, she was quite friendly. I explained about the job interview and how I wanted neutral colors for my nails. She helped me pick out a great color and took me to the massage chair for my spa pedicure.

It wasn’t long before my bare feet were soaking in the warm water and my toes were playing with the jets. I set the chair to massage my back and neck and closed my eyes. I was going to do my best to enjoy every moment of this experience. Ciera grabbed my right ankle and began her work.

“Well hello there, Pretty Feet,” said a man’s voice.

I opened my eyes to see an older man with olive skin and salt and pepper hair standing before me. “Hello.”

Ciera smiled and continued to work. “What brings you to my salon?” he asked.

I blushed. “My mom… my mom got me… got me… a Groupon.”

“Oh, good to know that promotion was so successful,” he beamed. It was clear he didn’t share the receptionist views. “Why did you decide to use it now?”

“I have an interview tomorrow.”

“Perfect reason to want to look your best. Who is your interview with?”

“Um, it’s with The Little Boutique Salon on Main St.,” I said, then blushed. I realized my interview was with a rival salon.

“Ah yes, I know it well. So, I can assume we are doing your hair as well, aren’t we?”

I wanted to cry. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I insist Ciera do your hair as well, as my treat for your interview. Then, if you would, please come see me in my office before you leave.”

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I looked down at Ciera, who would now have to stay later and probably not get paid for this extra service. “Is it all right with Ciera?”

Ciera smiled. “It’s fine with me.”

“Then it is settled!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, then leaned down and whispered something in Ciera’s ear before he walked off.

“You sure did make quite an impression on Mr. Cagaha,” said Ciera with a smile.

“Is that his name?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s a great boss. Besides, I can use the overtime.”

I sighed. “So you’ll still get paid then?”

“Of course. We are hourly workers, not commission. I don’t rent my space like they do at most salons. And as I can do so many different services, I get paid a flat hourly rate, plus extras for certain services, and of course tips.”

Tips! Oh shit! I hadn’t even thought about a tip. “Um, Ciera… I… um…”

“Don’t worry hon, you can tip me next time you come in.”

“That’s assuming I get a job soon.”

“Oh… you never know,” Ciera said, touching my leg gently and she gave me a sly smile.

Ciera began to scrub my feet, cleaning, massaging, and occasionally tickling them. She washed my calves and rubbed in a lovely flowery smelling lotion. I couldn’t remember when I felt so pampered. However, my pedicure was nothing compared to my manicure. Ciera worked meticulously on my nails, cleaning them, polishing them, and making my nails and hands look amazing. The massage afterward was nearly orgasmic.

As I was way overdue for a haircut and style, the bonus hair wash and cut was a real treat. I began to think about what Ciera had said about the impression I had made on Mr. Cagaha and what he would want to talk with me about. I was hoping he would offer me some tips so I might get the job.

I love how it feels to have someone else wash my hair, and Ciera did an amazing job. It wasn’t long before my hair was cut in a way that I could easily maintain. My hair looked fantastic and I felt like a princess. As Ciera finished up, I asked, “Do you think I bothered Mr. Cagaha with my Groupon the way I did the receptionist?”

“Not in the least,” she said, putting the final touches on my hair. “It’s rare he invites someone into his office.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” she said, giving me the hand mirror so I could see the back of my hair. “There are many here who have never had the privilege.”

Ciera took the mirror, led me to Mr. Cagaha’s office and wished me luck with a sly wink. I didn’t understand what she meant about this being a privilege, but I would learn all too soon.

Mr. Cagaha’s office was modestly decorated, with a dark wood desk, book shelf, computer, and off to the side was a salon chair with a foot bath. He sat in a leather chair as he worked at his computer. “Ah, Pretty Feet, sit down please.” He gestured to a chair near his desk.

Nervously, I sat down, fidgeting with my purse. “My name is Rita, and may I ask what this is about?”

Mr. Cagaha smiled. “I’m guessing by the fact you were rather embarrassed about your Groupon that you’re pretty much at the end of your rope.”

I bit my lip. Where was he going with this?

“Do you know why I opened a nail salon?”

“To make money?” I asked.

He laughed. “Clever girl. While that’s certainly true, I have a confession to share… I have a bit of a foot fetish.”

“And?”

“And, I’d like to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“I would like to pay you a thousand dollars if you will let me lick your pretty feet.”

“Excuse me?” I questioned. “Just what kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Two-thousand dollars then? I really don’t like to pay much more for a first time unless sex is involved.”

Did I hear him right? This strange man was offering me two-thousand dollars to lick my feet. “What… um… what’s the catch?”

“No catch, except I’d like it if you were nude.”

Two-thousand dollars for me to sit naked and let this strange man lick my feet? This had to be a joke, or a dream.

A dream come true if this guy was for real. “So let me get this straight. I take off my clothes and you’ll pay me two-thousand dollars to let you lick my feet without sex?”

Mr. Cagaha opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out two large stacks of bills. It was more money than I had ever seen before in my life. There in those stacks sat my rent money for at least three months, plus my electric bill, and maybe even some food if I budgeted right.

I swallowed hard, then said, “Okay.”

Mr. Cagaha smiled as he stood up and walked around the desk. He led me to the salon chair with the foot bath. I saw a small dresser with a clothes rack. “Please put your clothes here.”

I smiled nervously and began to strip, wishing I had worn sexier undergarments. My bra was plain, as were my panties. I saved my sexiest set for my interview because they made me feel confident. Mr. Cagaha smiled as I stood before him, naked and scared. I used my arms to cover myself as best as I could, but he took my hands and said, “You look amazing and I promise to be gentle.”

I giggled nervously as I climbed into the chair. He pulled up a small stool like the one Ciera used and set my feet into the empty tub. “I wish to wash your feet before we begin. I like clean feet.”

“Understandable.”

He filled the tub with warm water, then gently washed my feet. There was a tenderness in his touch that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Then he pulled up my right foot and began licking my toes, one by one. His hands massaged my feet as he took my big toe into his mouth and sucked. It made me think of the way I would suck a man’s cock, but slightly different.

He purred and moaned as he licked and sucked. Switching off from one toe to another, switching from one foot to another. I could tell he was getting aroused. I felt he wanted more, but I wasn’t sure what. Then he asked, “May I rub my cock on your pretty feet?”

“Um… sure?” I wasn’t sure how to respond to this request.

“It won’t hurt, I promise.”

He slid his pants and boxers down exposing his dark, thick cock. It made my mouth water and my nipples harden. He set my feet on his lap as he rubbed his cockhead on the sole of my feet, moaning softly. I’m not sure why, but I decided to bend my legs and wrap my feet around his cock, giving him a clear view of my pussy. He gasped as the soles of my feet touched the sides of his cock.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Fuck my cock with your pretty feet.”

I pressed my feet into the meaty flesh of his cock as he stroked. Before today, I never experienced a man fucking my feet the way he might fuck my pussy or even my mouth. Mr. Cagaha pumped faster and I squeezed harder. I found this somewhat arousing as I pressed my feet into his cock and saw him stare at my pussy, licking his lips, and fucking my feet. It was then I noticed the aroma of my own arousal in the air. I looked up and saw the wicked smile on Mr. Cagaha’s face, he could smell it too.

I reached down, spread my lips, and touched my pussy as he fucked my feet. The moisture and heat from my pussy radiated as my fingers penetrated my inner folds. I pumped a few times when I felt his hand grab my wrist and said, “Please, allow me.”

I pulled my hand away and smiled. “Go ahead,” I whispered.

He shook his head to acknowledge me, and pumped faster. Then he pushed my legs apart, pulled me forward, and slid his rock hard onyx cock into my pussy, in one hard and fast thrust. I gasped and moaned at the surprise. I hadn’t expected this, but now I found I wanted it. No, I craved it. I hadn’t been laid in months, and now I was being fucked by this man and loving it.

His cock was huge! It stretched my wanton pussy and I just wanted more. My body was in an awkward angle, my ass at the edge of the chair, my back arching, and my head caught in the seat. I really couldn’t move, nor did I want to. I just wanted to be fucked by this man and cum on his cock as he pounded my pussy harder.

His face contorted and I could tell he was close. He panted and moaned, thrusting faster as I used my Kegel muscles to squeeze his cock. He pulled out and shot rope after rope of hot, sticky cum on my stomach, breasts, and legs bringing me to my own orgasm as well. The air was heavy with the aroma of our combined orgasms.

He pumped until his cock was drained and began to soften. Then he sat back, placed my feet in the cool water, making me shiver, and washed the cum off my body. He even slid his fingers into my pussy and took a taste. He smiled and said, “I knew your feet would be amazing, but now I can taste your pussy is as well.”

“Thanks,” I said, struggling to sit up again.

Once I was clean and dry, I got dressed. Mr. Cagaha fixed his pants and returned to his desk. I grabbed my purse and began to leave when he said, “Don’t forget your money, Pretty Feet.”

I paused. I knew I needed the money, but I couldn’t help but feel like a whore. I swallowed my pride and stepped over to the desk, only now there were three stacks. “What’s this?”

“A bonus for making me cum the way you did.”

I bit my lower lip, then grabbed the three stacks of cash, shoved them into my purse, mumbled, “Thank you,” and ran for the door.

I’m sure he said something, but I was too busy running. The salon was empty, the door was locked, and it was dark outside. I looked around and realized the door was a double key. Mr. Cagaha stepped out, gave me a kind smile, and said as he unlocked the door, “In case you didn’t hear me, I said you were welcome and I hope we can do business again soon.”

He opened the door and the cool night air coated my skin. There was a freshness surrounding me as I fumbled with my keys and unlocked my car. I noticed Mr. Cagaha watched until I drove away. I was convinced I was going to get caught with all this money in my purse, but that never happened. I arrived home, to my nearly empty apartment, hid the money, and cried. I told myself that I would get money orders for my rent and utilities after my interview, and buy some groceries. I showered, then did my best to sleep.

The next morning I showered again, got dressed, and drove to my interview. The Little Boutique Salon was exactly what the name implied: small, intimate, and expensive. There was a faint aroma of roses mixing with the smell of hair care products. I felt out of place in my outfit, but it was the best one I had in my wardrobe.

The young woman behind the counter smiled and said, “How may I help you?”

“I have an interview with Ms. Quezada,” I said.

“Name?”

“Rita Hayward.”

The woman gave me a quizzical look, then led me back. It was a look I was used to, especially when your name occurs in a Madonna song. Ms. Quezada’s office was similar to Mr. Cagaha’s office, only without the salon chair and foot bath.

“Ah, Ms. Hayward,” she said, extending her hand to me, “please, sit down.”

“Thank you,” I said, shaking her hand and sitting in my seat.

“Have any trouble finding us?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Wonderful. I see you’re here for our receptionist opening.”

“I am indeed.”

“Wonderful, would you mind filling out a few forms for me?”

Ms. Quezada handed me a clipboard with some papers. As I began to fill them out I realized they were an I-9 and a W-4. “Excuse me Ms. Quezada, do you normally have an interviewee fill out employment forms?”

Ms. Quezada chuckled. “No. But when Mr. Cagaha calls you personally and demands you hire the young woman with the Hollywood name, you do what he says.”

“He what?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Called me last night in fact. Even said he’d hire you himself if he had the opening. Tell me something, did you sit in his special chair?”

I felt my cheeks instantly burn. “Um… well… that is…”

Ms. Quezada snickered. “Don’t feel bad sweetie, it’s quite an honor to be chosen for his special chair, especially if he invites you back.”