“Jigsaw is the only reason you haven’t been put in your place, but your day is coming,” Snake threatens before storming out the door.
Three and a half years ago
“Okay, Sam, which color?” Zilphia asks me, holding up two small bottles.
We just finished watching the first movie in a slasher trilogy. Not my thing, but it was her turn to choose the movie tonight. I straighten from my slouched position on the sofa to get a better look.
“Definitely the pink nail polish,” I answer her. “It suits you.”
“It’s fuchsia, not pink,” she corrects me.
I shrug. “Looks pink to me.”
Zilphia rolls her eyes. “You’re such a boy.”
“Technically, I’m a man,” I remark proudly.
“Man? I hate to burst your delusional little bubble, but you’re seventeen,” she deadpans. “Legally you’re still a child.”
“Yeah, but I’m closer to being an adult, which makes me more adult than child,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Girls mature faster than boys, sotechnically—” Zilphia makes air quotations, throwing the word I used back at me “—I’ll become anadult before you.”
I scoff. “That’s some made-up bullshit.”
“No, it isn’t,” she counters. “It’s scientifically proven.”
“Science isn’t always right.”
“Whatever you say.” Zilphia props her foot on the table and begins polishing her big toe.
“I can do that for you,” I offer, motioning for her to give me the bottle.
“You? Polish my toenails?” Zilphia shakes her head. “Absolutely not. You’ll probably make it all clumpy and ugly.”
“I won’t,” I say. “I’m a nail polish pro.”
“Well, if you insist.” She places the bottle in my outstretched hand. “Two coats, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I move to the floor and sit cross-legged at her feet.
Zilphia plucks the bowl of candy off the table and starts the next movie. I swallow hard, my blood swooshing in my ears. Finally, I get to touch them—her beautiful, flawless feet. I place a tiny foot on my knee, holding on a little longer than necessary. It’s anatomical perfection—suckable toes, accentuated arch, and feather soft.
My dick stirs, extending to full mast. Luckily, the tent in my cargo shorts is hidden from her view in this position. I meticulously stroke the brush over each toenail, taking extra care not to get polish on her skin.
“Go out the front door, stupid!” Zilphia yells at the television. “The killer is going to get you! Don’t run upstairs! Okay, you’re done, you’re done.”
She’s completely engrossed in the movie, not paying any attention to me. Now is my chance. I lower my head, blowing on her toenails until my nose is only a hairbreadth from her foot. I inhale her scent into my lungs. Sunshine mixed with floral undertones.
“Sam, are you sniffing my foot?” Zilphia asks, amusement clear in her voice.
“N-no,” I lie, stammering like an idiot. “I-I w-was blowing your toenails to dry the polish faster.”
“You were.” She laughs, ruffling my hair. “Do you have a foot fetish?”
“I have to go.” I leap to my feet and haul ass out of the tree house.
“Sam, come back,” Zilphia calls after me. “I was only joking, and what about the top coat? You’re not even done.”
