I remember the day like it was yesterday. Not hard to do when it actually signifies the rebirth of one’s life, or more specifically, the removal of the exoskeleton that society adorns us with, to reveal the true self beneath. We were at a party. My wife and I. Boring, typical business-social gathering that couples have to occasionally navigate when one or both are part of the corporate world. I had wandered out onto the lanai to catch some air while my wife chatted with some associates inside. That was my stated purpose. I also had noticed a 40-something woman with dark, silky hair, professionally dressed, who seemed to be alone but seemed to know everybody. Something about her demeanor had intrigued me, and I was hoping to at least say hello. She was out there as well. We struck up a conversation. Idle chat about the weather, the economy, the typical bullshit that people throw out at these parties to keep their guard up. I told her I was there as a companion to my wife. She said she had some friends who had invited her, with the intention of making some new business contacts. I asked her what her business was. “I help couples,” she said. “I show them how to develop their relationship so that it is truly beneficial to both parties.” She was curiously vague, but her voice, the way she looked at me—into me—drew me in. “So you’re a therapist?” I asked. “No, dear, more like a teacher.” Dear? Where did that come from? Certainly not appropriate for a venue like this, but the word drove straight through me like a warm, liquid arrow and penetrated my spine. Her eyes flashed with a look of acknowledgement. “I find couples like you and your wife, boys like you, and I teach them how to live the life they were meant to live. I noticed you two as soon as you arrived, and knew that you were my next project.” I glanced over at my wife, still engaged in her conversation. My face flushed, the heat rose under my collar. I looked back at her, and my eyes met hers. She had a slight smile on her face. Serene, knowing. Suddenly I felt naked. Exposed. My heart raced. “I’ve watched you two for a bit now, and I’m pretty sure I can help you. You’ve been very attentive to your wife this evening, fetching her drinks, standing by her side. It’s clear you want to be there for her. She, on the other hand, doesn’t yet appreciate the level of service that you’re capable of providing. That’s where I come in. I will show her how fulfilling her marriage can really be.” “Will?” I though. Pretty confident for a perfect stranger. Yet, my racing heart betrayed me, and somehow I knew she was right. She will. I tried to maintain my air of casual confidence. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I asked. “Now there you go,” she said. That’s no way to talk to a superior woman, and you know it. You’re all the same. Little boys pushing the envelope, trying to see what you can get away with.” I looked down, totally caught off guard. I wanted to be sassy, flirty, clever. My arsenal was completely empty. “You will never talk back like that to your superiors,” she said. There was that word again. Will. “You’re looking at my feet now, aren’t you?” I was caught dead to rights. Her feet were almost mesmerizing. Strappy heels, perfectly pedicured toes discreetly peeking out the tips. I couldn’t resist, and this was the perfect opportunity for her to call me out for my retort. “That’s the first thing a proper husband should look at when he greets his wife. She decides when he can look up and engage with her.” What the fuck was going on in my head? I couldn’t look away. And my cock, in spite of my nervous discomfort, was growing. “Now, normally, you would never kneel down in a public place and worship anyone’s feet but your wife’s, as that would be totally disrespectful. But in this case, I think it would be the most appropriate way to get her attention so that I may have a word with her.” She slid her left foot slowly towards me, until her foot was pointed at me, while still firmly planted on the floor. “Go ahead,” she said. “You know you want to. You know you need to.”