She was tying her toe shoes, just like she did before every practice, wrapping the long, silky ribbons around her delicate ankles and winding them, carefully, delicately, up each shapely, nylon-lacquered calf with deftness. It was almost like a ceremony that seemed plucked from some ancient culture??“it seemed that ritualistic.
And watching her perform this routine had become my ritual and practically an obsession.
Tessa's feet were something of the divine and those shiny, pale pink toe shoes were like two lovely vaults that encased them perfectly and kept them safe. Those two enchanted slippers that turned them from mere biological perfection??“heels to arches, ankles to each creamy, perfect toe??“into something elfin and magical that allowed her to leap and flit and be graceful and slowly erotic. She became a beautiful hummingbird. She became a delicate nymph from a fairy tale, carried by an unseen-yet-thoroughly-mastered force across the floor by the jewels at the ends of her long, slender legs. I flt as if I could watch her forever, even if it was just this lacing of her shoes. It was enough for me to witness just that small, intimate moment of her alone with her laces.
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