HEAT

[zi****]

I stepped into the sauna, towel around my waist, the sudden wave of heat wrapping around me like a heavy breath. The wood creaked under my feet. I expected it to be empty, quiet, but then I saw her.

She was lying on the upper bench, a goddess carved from sweat and steam. Her skin shimmered, her legs stretched long and bare, one foot slowly swaying in the thick air. She looked at me like she’d been expecting me.

“Too hot for you?” she asked, her voice slow and warm.

I shook my head, but I couldn’t speak yet my mouth had gone dry. I sat a step below her, eyes locked on her foot. It was perfect. Toes ***ted a deep red, her sole soft and high-arched, like it was made for my hands, my mouth. I couldn’t stop looking.

She caught me. Smirked.

"You like feet, huh?" she said, her foot lowering, teasing my thigh. "Don’t worry I like when men look."

Her toes curled against my leg, rising higher until they slipped under the edge of my towel. I sucked in a breath.

She moved down to sit beside me, close enough that our skin touched. Her towel was barely clinging to her hips, and the scent of her sweat mixed with something sweeter — like citrus and danger.

“Touch them,” she whispered.

I obeyed. I wrapped my fingers around her foot, slid my thumb along her sole, then brought it to my lips. Her skin was warm, slightly salty, soft as velvet. She sighed, tilting her head back, lips parting.

When I slipped her second foot into my hands and kissed each toe, she moaned.

She climbed into my lap like she belonged there. Her body slick, her breath shallow against my neck. She grinded against me, slowly, deliberately, and then lifted one foot — pressing it gently to my chest, then my throat.

I kissed her ankle as she rode me in the haze. Her fingers tangled in my hair. I couldn’t tell what was hotter — the room or the way she moved. Every breath, every thrust, was electric.

When we finally stumbled out, soaked in sweat and something more, she looked over her shoulder, eyes blazing.

“Same time tomorrow?”