Red nail polish.

Xavier ran his hands up Isabelle's calves, to her inner thighs, and then all the way back

down to her feet. She was sitting on the couch in the living room,

candles flickering around them.

The front window was open, letting in the peaceful chorus of crickets.

"'Absolutely amazing,' Xavier hummed, as Isabel lifted her feet by his face.

She broke into a smile and watched as her husband ran his hands over one foot and then the other.

His fingers pressed into her souls, massaging out the day's soreness. She wiggled her toes, which made Xavier draw a sharp breath. At the salon yesterday,

she had picked the bright cherry red polish, specifically

because it was his favourite. He loved the way it popped against her tan skin. He said it made her

look like a vixen. Isabel moaned as Xavier drew her toes into his mouth.

He was kneeling on the floor in that worshipping way of his. Isabel leaned back and relaxed against the couch as his tongue slid over each

toe, lavishing them with warm wetness. At first, she hadn't known what to make of a husband with a

foot fetish, but she had come to appreciate his

desires, his massages, and the strangely delicious sensation of her toes in his mouth.

You look stunning tonight, darling, Zavier said, massaging her feet again while he stared

up at her.

She was in a black satin slip, specifically picked for the occasion.

Happy five years of marriage, she said,

hinging at the waist so she could kiss her husband.

She cupped his face and pressed her lips to his,

grateful for their relationship.

...