I was at an after party with only a few other people. My company for the evening had left while we were still at the bar, but I had fallen into conversation with some other people. When someone invited everybody to an after party I just joined up. The main reason for joining them was, of course, a very hot girl who was part of the group. I had not yet been able to speak to her, but I thought it might be easier in a less crowded place.

The party was held in a big flat. The girl and another girl, both long haired blondes, soon went into a TV room while the others stayed in the kitchen. I followed the girls. The only furniture was a two seated couch and a foot stool. The girls were seated in the couch, which left me with the stool.

They were discussing hair products. I was looking for an opening in the conversation, but they didn’t give me one. They were quite ignoring, and I felt I had to say something or leave the room.

"So are you girls hairdressers or something?" I blurted out. Not a good opening line. Girls generally like to talk about hair, no matter what their line of work is.

The pretty girl looked at me briefly, then rolled her eyes and said, "No." She turned back to her friend and kept talking.

I was about to leave when she interrupted herself and said that her feet hurt. She pulled off her stilettos and put her feet up on the low coffee table, stretching her legs out. She was wearing dark, shiny stockings or pantyhose. "Mmm, that’s better," she said, wiggling her toes. "I hope my feet don’t smell?" she asked her friend. "It’s funny how they tend to smell more when I’m wearing nylons. Is it the same with you?"

"Oh, yes," the other girl answered. "It’s definitely worse. I wouldn’t dare to take my shoes off now. But your feet are smaller than mine, so they probably smell less." 

"Don’t worry!" I said, grabbing the opportunity to both have an opinion on the topic and to say something flattering. "Women in general sweat a lot less than men do, especially through their feet," which I knew was true because I had overheard it in a shoe store once. "Men’s feet stink like rats, but women’s feet have almost no odour whatsoever." 

"Is that so?" the pretty girl said indifferently.

The other girl tried to explain, "But you see, there is something about the nylon fabric. Maybe it’s the plastic quality, that it doesn’t breathe like cotton or wool does."

"Yeah, well. That doesn’t make much difference," I said. "If there isn’t much sweat there in the first place, then what harm can the nylon do."

The pretty girl looked slightly annoyed, "You’re pretty sure about this, aren’t you?" she said.

"Well, yes," I said, trying to look cool while feeling a bit nervous about her.

"Well, we do have an available sample right here, so maybe we should find out?" she said, looking first at me, then at her friend.

She lifted her foot and held it in the air. "What do you think," she asked me, "Can you smell it?"

"No," I lied, feeling a hint of the vinegar-like odour.

She moved the slender and beautifully curved foot closer to my face. I could see a spot of sweat on the ball just below the reinforced toe part. "Still nothing?" she asked.

"No," I insisted.

"Gee, I think he is right," she said, turning to her friend. "Because I’m a woman, my feet actually have no odour!"

Her friend laughed.

"And now?" she said mock seriously as she placed her sole flat on my face.

I wasn’t able to say much. The smell was intense, almost making me dizzy.

"Look at him!" her friend laughed, "That frown says it all. Stinky!"

"I believe so," the pretty girl agreed. "Quite an expression you have there." She removed her foot. “What do you say?” she asked me, “Do female feet smell after all?”

I tried to maintain my dignity. "Well, up close like that of course it is noticeable, but…"

"Oh, you’re such a dork," the pretty girl said.

“Excuse me?” I replied. She ignored me and went back to discussing the hair products with her friend.

I wasn’t going to give in. "So if you’re not hairdressers, then what do you do?" I asked.

"Look, can you leave us alone?" the pretty girl said.

"Why?" I said.

"Because we are trying to have a fucking conversation here!" she almost shouted. "Is it that hard to notice?"

"No, but I thought I might join in," I replied.

"Yeah, but that isn’t going to happen, is it?" she said harshly. She turned to her girlfriend again.

I felt let down, but the need to keep going only grew stronger. I couldn't leave, defeated like that. I had to turn it around, somehow. Maybe I was a bit drunk, but she had no reason to be so rude. "Look, you’ve got really nice hair…"

"Shut the fuck up!" the pretty girl yelled.

"Hey, I’m just trying to be nice here…" I said.

"Yeah, but the thing is, you’re not very interesting!" she said.

"Well, if you think you're smarter than me…" I started.

“Hey!” she shouted, impulsively placing her foot back on my face, literally shutting me up. "Enough! I don't wanna hear another word from you. Now look. This is how interesting you are to me. Like the dust on the ground. Get it?"

She put her other foot on my shoulder. It was so surprising and overwhelming, I didn't know how to respond. "It's quite a strong signal, I would say, to get a foot in your face, and you should have realized the first time. You are not gonna get anything from me except my foot stink. Now you can either sit there like that, saying nothing, or you can leave. It’s up to you."

"Trudy, my god, what are you…" her friend started, looking like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be shocked.

Trudy cut her off, "Obviously he doesn’t comprehend any other way." She looked at me. "Anyway, he’s not much bothered by the smell, so I guess his only problem is that he looks pretty stupid with a foot in his face. Christ, I think he is actually going to stay there. Incredible." She looked back at her friend. "Well, what were we talking about?”

They went back to the hair products again, Trudy acting casual as if I wasn’t there. Her friend hesitant and a little tense. I could not believe the situation, yet I was paralyzed and could not move. Her sole covering my mouth and nose. I was sweating and it felt like my only working senses were smell and vision, while the rest of my brain had stopped working, as if her foot had shut my system down. I suppose in the back of my mind, my idea was that if I simply left, she would win, while staying would somehow make her realize the she was the unreasonable one, although there was no sign of that.

Held in that positon, I was forced to keep looking directly at her. The dark and shiny nylon encased leg stretched out in a straight line from beneath my eyes down to her crotch. Her lifted legs had made her short skirt slide above the midst of her thighs, exposing her stocking tops. I could almost see beneath her skirt, into her crotch, but tried to keep my eyes elsewhere. I focused on her belly or on her legs, which were no less beautiful in their current position. The warmth of her foot, and the smell, unpleasant but feminine, gave an illusion of intimacy, despite her hostile behaviour.

After what was probably just a few minutes but to me seemed like an hour, she switched her legs between my shoulder and my face. Shortly afterwards, she said, “If you are actually going to stay there, you might as well hold my feet up. Go ahead!”

Despite the recurring alarm signals in my brain about my manhood being flushed down the drain, I noticed my hands coming up supporting her heels. She crossed her legs at the ankles, with one foot pressed firmly against my face, the other a little to the side, toes whiggling. They went on chatting.

Then after a while she asked her friend if she wanted to leave. She agreed. Trudy looked at me, her feet still in my hands, "Christ... are you the biggest loser ever or what. No smell, right?" I didn't say anything.

"Take a good whiff. Right there between the toes." I did.

"Trudy..." her friend said.

"I'm not keeping him here. I'm trying to get rid of him," she answered. "One more sniff. Let me hear you inhale it."

It was totally stupid, but I had lost track of what I was doing. I dragged it in so she could hear it. It sounded like I was trying to snort up every particle of dust, sweat and what else was there, which probably was exactly what I did. She laughed out loud and finally withdrew her feet. Put her stilettos on.

"God, no one is gonna believe this. I'm glad you're here as a witness. I don't know if he's a freak or a retard or whatever, but that's the most pathetic thing I‘ve ever seen. Maybe we should actually warn the others."

Her friend giggled and they left the room on clicking heels.

I was still sitting there with my hands beneath my face.