Through half open eyelashes I watched Mila Kneel between my thighs and raise one of my legs over her shoulder. “No,” I said, “Keep going.”
She bent my right knee and lifted my lower leg till my foot was resting between her breasts, then took the foot in her hands and began rubbing the sole. Mila didn’t say anything for a minute, then she got up and took my hand. “Turn over,” Mila ordered. Mila chortled. I sat with my back against a tree and Mila surprised me by lying down on the grass and plonking her head in my lap. This just required me to remove my white business shirt, string tie, and bra, and then all I had on was my shorts, which Mila pulled down around my ankles. “I would have taken those off, eventually.”
She snorted. “Turn over,” Mila ordered. Sometimes, on a Mila-less night when I’m lonely and want sex with another person, not my vibrator or shower head, I consider calling her and inviting her over, and see where things go from there. “Just look at yourself.”
I looked down. I don’t recall pain except in my right upper forehead.
