[maitripatel]

I started to laugh and sat comfortably on the bed. My naked body was clad only in that expensive maroon brassiere, which held my heavy boobs in a tight embrace. Neeru came over and sat on my bed, which was covered in soft, smooth, silky sheets. Running his palm across the bedsheet, he said,

“Madam-ji, your bed is so soft... so tender, so comfortable. It feels like sitting on clouds.”
 
Saying this, Neeru bounced slightly on the bed, then pulled a pillow over and lay down. I watched him. Against the pristine white sheet, his dark, filthy body, stained by the grime of his scavenging work, looked like a heap of coal dumped onto white cloth, or a scattering of black ash. His dark, dirty body, caked in sweat and dust, looked utterly incongruous and strange against the white sheet; yet, there was a peculiar allure to that very strangeness.
 
I was sitting right next to Neeru as he lay on the bed; his feet were right in front of me. The moment my eyes fell upon them, a wave of nausea rose within me. His feet were so filthy and dark, it seemed as though they had never been washed. There were cracks and fissures all over, much like cracked heels, the skin on his toes and the balls of his feet was split open. Black grime was packed into those fissures, evidence of years of accumulated filth. Written by Maitri Patel.
 
If the tops of his feet were dark, the soles were even blacker and filthier. The skin on the soles had turned almost pitch-black, coated in layers of dirt, dust, and sweat. As I gazed at Neeru’s feet, something came over me; my right hand began to creep across the bed on its own, moving toward that dirty, black, grime-caked foot. The moment my fair, delicate hand hovered over Neeru’s dark foot, it looked as though someone had spilled white paint onto a lump of black coal; the stark contrast in color was unmistakable.
 
In a trance-like state, I slowly began to run my hand over the top of Neeru’s foot. Silence hung between us, I was quiet, and Neeru was absolutely still. My eyes were fixed on his dirty, dark foot, while his gaze was locked on my fair hand resting upon it, gently caressing the skin. Perhaps I was expressing my inner thoughts or simply indulging in the pleasure of the moment; whatever the reason, I was fully aware of what I was doing. I was finding a strange kind of satisfaction in those dirty feet.
 
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That's it for the day friends. Awaiting your comments over the story.



Maitri Patel, Sauni Patel, and Funlover wishes you Happy NAVRATRI.



JAY BHARAT.