Her thumbs tucked beneath the waistline of her pants, slightly pulling them down to expose the eternity between belly button and bliss. I looked up at her as I slid my tongue along the rail of her hip, sucking at its point.

Imagine instead the skater's lean feat, the toes which, honestly, may represent 25% of the entire length. The superb way she slips them into the boots. They smell like truffles.

There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.