The past year for Cheri had been about as boring as a year could get. She couldn’t even find a guy who wanted to go see SUNSET OF THE LIVING DEAD with her! “I mean,” she sighed, “I thought ALL guys liked these scary flicks. Or is it just me they don’t like? Maybe it’s because I keep insisting that they rub my feet for me. Oh, sure, they’re all ready and willing to rub other things…but my feet? Oh, GOD FORBID!” She sighed, taking the soda from the man behind the counter and throwing entirely too much money at him for it. She got her ticket torn and walked back to the screening room, still bemoaning her less than satisfying personal life.

Work had been pure hell, and she was tired and aggravated. She’d worn a brand new pair of shoes to work and had paid the price for not waiting until they were properly broken in first. The shoes seemed to have teeth…gnawing on her delicate feet for eight nonstop hours. All she wanted to do was drown her sorrows in soda and zombies. It was a little too early to eat, though, so the soda would be enough until after the movie. That was the beauty of coming to the theater directly from work. She could see a great horror flick and then pick up some fast food on the way home. Great entertainment, and no dishes to wash. Couldn’t be any better. Well,…unless she had a man to share this coup with, of course. She smiled as her brain added, a man who’d maybe rub her sore feet while she watched the movie. She sighed. What were the chances of finding a decent guy at all, let alone one who’d be willing to pamper her achy feet for her? She mentally slapped herself, telling herself she needed to come back to reality.

Inside the theater, the usual boring ads were screening…the usual pleas to buy the theater’s popcorn and candy at ridiculous prices. She ignored them as she chose a seat several rows up and near the center. She plopped into it, tired and feeling a bit down, despite knowing that she’d soon be watching a movie she’d waited months to see. Exhausted from the day’s stress, she sunk deep into the seat, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She took a quick sip of her soda, then placed it and the napkins in the convenient cup holder in the arm of the seat. Now it was time to get down to business…to get comfortable once and for all on this otherwise crappy day.

Putting toe to heel, she grunted and strained to get her right shoe off. It resisted. She persevered, and finally got the evil shoe to slip off her foot, though not without a fight. It was a good thing she was wearing thigh highs, as the silkiness of the nylon helped her foot to slide free of the stubborn leather. The shoe was pushed free of her foot with a loud “whoosh”ing noise – the sound of silky nylon rejecting cloying leather – after which it clunked to the floor, landing somewhere in the darkness beneath her seat. It’s evil twin soon followed.

Cheri noted that the theater was empty, and that the movie was due to begin in only minutes. Figuring most people were still at work and the theater would probably be empty throughout the movie, she felt secure enough to lift her legs and rest them on the seat back just in front of her. She stretched and wiggled her toes, spreading them to see what the gossamer nylon looked like with the light of the movie screen peering through it from behind. There was still enough light in the room for her to see her blue toenails, even through the sheer nylon. For some reason, blue nail polish always seemed to make her toes seem even cuter.

She admired her toes. She’d always thought her feet were pretty, which is why she couldn’t understand why men didn’t want to play with them. “What’s wrong with my feet?” she thought, and then answered herself, “Not a damn thing. Those are two cute feet ya got there, Cheri. Men are just too focused on other body parts to appreciate them, but those feet are damn sexy. If men can’t see that, to Hell with them…every last tit-groping one of them!”

She took another look at the nylons. Nope…her feet weren’t comfortable enough…free enough. They needed total comfort…and they deserved it, after the day she’d had. So, lowering her legs, she crossed her left calf over her right knee and removed the stocking from her left foot. Changing legs, she repeated the nylon removal on the other foot. When she had removed both, she simply dropped them, letting them drift softly to the floor to join her rejected shoes. Ahh…now her cute, neglected piggies were totally free. Back up over the seat back they went. Again, she admired her feet, the blue-painted toes even more attractive wiggling free of the nylon. She stretched her legs as straight and far as they’d go, and fantasized some cute, attentive man holding them by the heels and romantically pleading to kiss her lacquered toes, asking sweetly with puppydog eyes if he could pretty please massage them for her. She smiled and sighed, even though she knew it was all just a sweet, impossible dream. Men! Damn their selfish hides!

Cheri sipped her soda, smiling as the cool air of the air conditioned room soothed her bare feet as they dangled and wiggled in front of her. Her feet, once hot from the suffocating shoes, were now being nicely cooled by the moving air. She could even feel the cool air moving between her toes when she spread them apart. She giggled at the feel of it. As she saw the light sneaking between her spread toes, she sighed. The imaginary man who’d begged to rub and kiss her feet was now smiling wickedly at her…leaning forward…opening his mouth…sticking out his tongue…slipping it between her toes. She squirmed in the seat, feeling a burning itch begin between her legs. The itch intensified when she saw the dashing fellow slowly take her toes, one by one, into his mouth and suck them, licking the underside of each as he did. Her pulse quickened and she sighed heavily, feeling the urge to slip a hand between her legs and play in her sweating honeypot.

So intense was the erotic flood of sensations tingling every inch of her body as she fantasized in greater and greater detail about her attractive foot admirer, that her vision got blurry. She could barely see her wiggling feet, her now hormone-jazzed toes dancing, curling and flexing madly. The lit screen beyond those toes almost didn’t exist at all, except as an aid in illuminating and highlighting her feet. She didn’t sip her soda,now, but gulped it, hoping the icy liquid would go through her body all the way to her burning sex and yearning toes to quench the growing flames of desire searing ever hotter in both locations.

It was just as she was humorously pretending she could see steam rising from her feet and from between her legs thanks to the flame extinguishing soda, that light flooded one side of the theater. Someone else had entered the dimly lit room and was walking toward the rows of seats. “Damn,” she thought, “another few minutes and I could’ve had myself one heck of an orgasm right here in my seat!” In the darkness, she scowled at the newcomer who made her imaginary foot lover disappear.

The silhouette walking toward the seats slowly took more distinctive shape. It was a man…by himself. “Oh, wonderful,” she thought, “just what I need. Some loser without a girlfriend who skulked around watching horror movies all by himself.” But, then, she realized that except for gender, she was doing the exact same thing…and she definitely did not consider herself a loser. “Oh, okay,” she conceded, “maybe he’s not a loser. But, still, he’ll probably be grossed out by me putting my feet up on the seat in front of me. He might even ask me to take my feet down. Well, screw him…I’m comfortable, and he doesn’t have to sit anywhere near me. We’re the only two people in here, so he has lots of far away seats to choose from. If he DARES ask me to put my feet down after the day I’ve had, I’ll show him how my feet can turn his balls into earmuffs!”

The man walked slowly – his eyes possibly adjusting to the dim lighting? – deciding where he wanted to sit…and then made a beeline for Cheri, walking to the row of seats in front of hers. He seemed to hesitate at first, but then continued. Sure enough, he headed down that aisle, walking ever closer to her cool, comfy feet. She tensed for a confrontation. She pictured his balls wrapped around his ears, warming them nicely. The thought amused her greatly, and she prepared her litany of exotic threats should he even mention the word “feet” in anything but a pleading-to-kiss-them manner.

Slowly he walked past seat after seat. Along the way, he spilled some of his popcorn. Oh, great, Cheri thought…just my luck…a clumsy, nerdy loser. Her luck, she feared, was running true to form. She watched him advance down the aisle, bumping into seats and depositing puffed kernels of popcorn onto the sticky floor for the hired help to clean up later. Finally, only three seats from Cheri’s comfortably propped feet, he sat down, still seeming awkward and uncoordinated. When he looked her way, she smiled at him. He WAS cute, after all, in a klutzy sort of way. He smiled back pleasantly, if a little shyly. Still, she made no move to take her feet off their perch. In fact, if anything, they wiggled and danced more than ever…perhaps defiantly. She giggled to herself, wondering if she wasn’t subconsciously hoping to tease and entice this stranger into desiring her feet…to the point where he’d fall on his knees and beg just to kiss her big toe…fawning away at her feet. But then reality slammed her back down to earth, and she realized that was a hopeless fantasy. Her swoony smile reverted back to gritty defiance. And just that quickly her thoughts went from pussy-moistening reverie to “If he doesn’t like my feet up like this….TOUGH!!”

After sitting down and seeming to settle into his seat, the man unexpectedly got up and slid smoothly to his left, moving yet another seat closer to her. Cheri only assumed that the floor was extra sticky in front of his original seat, or that the cup holder was broken, or some such. She thought nothing much of the move, but again tensed for a confrontation should he ask her to move her feet.

Then she noticed something that first took her by surprise, and then started the gears turning in her head. Did she imagine it, or was this guy actually sneaking peeks at her feet? Was he going to ask her to move them after all (at his own peril)? No…she didn’t think so. It seemed he couldn’t keep from looking at them. But the look on his face when he did glance over was not one of disgust or even inconvenience. No, he seemed to be…yes..he definitely was!…he was smiling!! He even appeared to slink down in his seat so he could glance over more discreetly…so she wouldn’t notice him looking! Suddenly, Cheri was getting warm all over.

Lifting her hand to her mouth, she tried to stifle an excited, giddy giggle. She didn’t do a very good job of it, and the giggle escaped. She wondered if the man heard her, because he seemed to stiffen and then slink down lower in his seat, as if he was embarrassed or suddenly trying to hide.

The movie began. Clever opticals and special effects enhanced the opening titles and credits. No name actors and actresses had their no names emblazoned on the screen with blood dripping from each letter. Eerie music sounded from the partially disguised speakers spaced along the upper walls of the theater. Zombies roamed about a deserted street, their only company wind-blown newspapers proclaiming the “Zombie plague!” Symbolically, the sun in the background was setting, the ever darkening sky becoming more and more blood red. SUNSET OF THE LIVING DEAD had begun to strut its stuff.

Being a horror movie, there were very few scenes that were bright enough for human eyes to see about the large screening room. But every now and then, especially at the beginning of the film, a daylight scene or interior scene with lighting did occur. And each one of those scenes found Cheri stifling yet more giggles, and squirming in her seat. She was sure of it now. Every time a brightly lit scene flashed on the movie screen, the slumped down man would quickly look over at her feet. Being slumped so low, he had to look to his left and then upward at such an obvious angle that she knew he could only be looking at her feet. He was apparently taking every possible opportunity to admire them. Even during the darker scenes, if she wiggled her feet or stretched her legs…almost any movement at all…his head would swivel in their direction, even though he presumably couldn’t really see much. She thought he must indeed be attracted to her feet if even such slight movements in the dark caught his immediate attention. It was making her giddier by the second!

Feeling in her heart and mind that the man was definitely interested in her feet, Cheri decided on a bold move. She took her feet off the seat back. When she did, she could swear the man looked over, peering intently in the darkness, trying desperately to see them again. He sighed, and, to Cheri’s pleasure, seemed disappointed when he couldn’t.

Not wasting an instant, Cheri repositioned her feet, this time sticking them between the seats in front of her, on the side closest to her apparent foot admirer, resting them between the seats. She was eager to see what his reaction would be. She crossed her legs, one foot over the other, and wiggled them about energetically, hoping he’d see them and resume his visual fascination with them.

It worked…in spades. Even through the noisy din of the zombie battle on the movie screen, she was sure she heard him sigh. He repositioned himself in his seat, moving more to his side, trying to hunch down below the seat back so as not to be seen. But that’s the beauty of stadium riser seats. Try as he might to hide, Cheri could see him turning his head to stare at her boldly displayed feet. And she kept up the pressure on him. She wiggled her toes with more energy than ever. She rubbed her feet together. Occasionally, she’d raise the upper foot and rotate it in the air, then lower it to repeat the same actions with her other foot. She kept crossing her legs, first with one foot on top, then the other. She even rubbed the sides of her feet on the sides of the two seat backs on either side of them, ever so slowly sliding her feet up and down along the soft material.

It was working perfectly. She could see the man squirming in his seat. His head constantly swiveled to his left, his eyes locking on any movement her feet made. It wasn’t long before he was watching her feet more than the movie. He wiped his brow several times. Once he even slapped his cheek as if to divert his attention from her teasing distraction….or perhaps to see if he was dreaming. She was ecstatic that she was turning this rather cute looking fellow into a sighing, squirming, sweating puddle of goo. His every move proved she was doing exactly that. She had no doubt of it. A woman instinctively knows these things anyway, but in this case it was a crystal clear “no brainer”. And not only that, but she was driving him nuts with her feet…not her breasts or her ass or her legs or even her pretty eyes…..but her FEET! And that was making her squirm easily as much as he was.

She knew she had him. A slight, but growing, feeling of power washed over her like a warm shower. She knew if she tried, she could get him to touch her feet….probably massage them for her. And maybe…maybe even get him to do more….much more. The fantasy of her toes sliding into the warmth of a sucking mouth came back, with a vengeance. She knew that she could probably get this man’s mouth in just that position if she played her cards right. So, she decided it was time to do just that.

It was time, she thought, to reel him in…to drag him, sighing and drooling, to her sorely neglected tootsies. Those feet were screaming to her, “Now! Do it now! Get this guy rubbing and kissing us RIGHT THIS MINUTE!” Cheri agreed, complying instantly with their urgent pleas. It was definitely time to capture her prey. She trembled from head to toe, both with nervousness and with expectation, as she leaned forward in the darkened theater to make her bid. “It just has to work,” she thought as she opened her mouth, “It just HAS to!”


If there was one thing Mike was getting tired of doing, it was going to horror movies alone. None of his friends liked scary fare…especially if there was even a drop of the red stuff in it. He had one female friend who liked horror movies, but her weightlifter boyfriend was just a tad on the possessive side…not to mention jealous enough to yank Mike’s gonads up over his head and tie them into knots…just for looking at her. And even his more adventuresome relatives balked at any movie where the actors employed anything stronger than harsh words. God, people could be so repressed! Wherever the non-wussies of the world were hiding, he couldn’t find them. And why is it only one woman out of a million likes horror movies? What’s up with that?!

And so it came to pass that once again poor Mike was forced to go see a scary movie by himself. He went straight from work, having just enough time to get to the theater by showtime. Not only was the theater conveniently just a mile or two down the road from his place of employment, but the early showtime meant that the theater would be mostly devoid of movie-goers. No giggling, smart mouthed teens to listen to – and have to screech at – throughout the movie. No restless, fidgety kids kicking the back of his seat. No nervous, clingy girl clutching onto her boyfriend and yelping at every other frame. No idiots with cell phones who just can’t bear to turn them off during the movie. Ahh….a nice, quiet, dark room with wall to wall scary movie. No date, either…but it would have to do. Sometimes you have to embrace the positives and try to ignore the negatives of life.

Mike paid for his ticket, making sure to get his “frequent movie-goer” stub punched by the girl with way too much eye shadow who lurked behind the great glass window. He stopped at the snack bar and bought a microscopic popcorn (almost literally microscopic) and a small fruit drink (ironically, big enough to fill the stomachs of a roomful of Hulk Hogans), nearly having to refinance his car to do so. He handed his ticket to the white haired man who collected them from the customers, who promptly tore it in half and handed half of it back to him. “Theater ten,” the man mumbled disinterestedly, and that’s where Mike’s tired dogs shuffled him off to.

Dim lights still partially illuminated the theater, and the pre-movie advertisements were still rolling along when he entered. He looked around. Hallelujah! No other patrons! His prayers had been answered! He’d get to see SUNSET OF THE LIVING DEAD in a nice, quiet, dark theater…all by himself. A private showing. How cool is that?!

Moving up to the fifth row of the stadium riser seats, he started to enter the row. But, then he noticed something. He wasn’t alone. Two rows up, hunkered down low in her seat, was a woman. It was hard to tell in the low light, but she looked to be about his age or younger, and was sitting quietly slurping a soft drink, waiting patiently for the movie. Oh, well, he thought, at least she seemed quiet. She was alone, so she didn’t have anyone to talk to or cling to while yelping during the “cheap scare scenes”. So, it was still good…if only she had the common sense not to bring a cell phone, or at least keep the damn thing turned off during the movie.

But then Mike noticed something that made him break out in a sweat. Just as the final local ads were playing out their mostly unimaginative come-ons, he noticed the woman, hunched way down in her chair, her head almost obscured from view behind the seat back that loomed in front of her, had her feet up on that seat back and those energetic puppies were happily dancing and wiggling about. His eyes focused on the splaying and scrunching toes as if his irises together worked as one to bring the enticing image right up to his nose. His eyes had instantly become very efficient biological binoculars. Something almost immediately stirred in his sexual psyche. He felt his breathing become a bit labored, and his heart was pounding out the same kind of intense beat that he’d heard hundreds of times in the thriller movies and cheap, “B” horror flicks he so enjoyed.