Juan's message (II)

The door closed behind me, I headed to the elevator and while I descended I felt good, but I didn’t know if I was happy about closing the deal or because of how Juan smiled at me as I left.

That afternoon and all night, I tried to stop remembering how everything had ended, downplaying the fact that I had licked his feet, but I couldn't stop recalling his last words: “When you come, don’t forget to clean my feet before you leave, maid.” I knew Juan wasn’t joking; quite a while had passed and I still felt discomfort in my mouth.

I wanted to fall asleep with the idea that I wouldn’t see him again; I still had the touch of his feet etched in my mind and how I had sucked his toes; I didn’t understand anything, why I had accepted to do it and why I hadn’t rebelled. I was embarrassed recalling the situation and didn’t want to repeat it.

But I kept mulling over the situation; if I had known what was going to happen, I would never have jokingly knelt down. Was it my fault? Juan's? Deep down, I knew there wasn’t any culprit; I had offered as a joke and moreover, I did it without refusing or complaining at any moment.

I fell asleep in a sea of doubts. When I woke up, it was ten o'clock, I felt fine, there was no discomfort, and that gave me the push I needed to confront Juan. I was determined to call him to tell him I wasn’t going to go, that I was no longer interested, and to put an end to it all.

Juan didn’t give me the option; I had a message from him on my phone, received at nine in the morning, saying: “Good morning, I have a commitment, I expect you today before 14:45, as I have to leave at 16:30. Thanks.” I spent almost an hour in front of my phone, writing and deleting my response until I finally decided to reply: “Thank you for the opportunity Juan, but I can’t accept it, I’m sorry for the inconvenience and thank you very much.” But I sent him: “Okay, I’ll be there, see you then.”

Since he was in a hurry, I assumed it was going to be a normal and simple service, and I convinced myself of that. I couldn’t leave Juan hanging; I didn’t want to disappoint him, I wanted to go.

I arrived at the agreed time, dressed in jeans and a polo, something more formal to make a better impression, and I knocked on his door to let me in.

I was disappointed to arrive and see that Juan wasn’t waiting for me at the entrance. I followed the instructions and took off my shoes to enter the apartment. Stepping on the floor barefoot made me feel exposed and nervous again, recalling the ending from yesterday.

I wasn't very sure what was going to happen, but anyway, I entered the living room and found Juan again; my gaze instinctively went to the floor, once more coming upon those feet I already knew.

Juan was sitting on the sofa, focused on his laptop, and didn’t notice that I was looking at his feet. He was dressed in comfortable clothes...