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Trick or Treat, Let me smell your feet!
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 16:00:08 +0000 UTCThe porch light cast a warm glow over the me as I adjusted the cheap vampire fangs in my mouth. "Trick or treat!" I grinned, holding out my plastic pumpkin bucket. Sure, I was too old to be trick-or-treating as a college kid, but I was determined to use my tricks to get some treats. My crush from high school, Sarah and her sister had both come home from attending college out of state and I just had to see them. And now here she stood framed in the doorway as Batgirl, her sister Mia purring in a black leotard beside her. Behind them, Mrs. Henderson leaned against the doorjamb in flannel and overalls, a straw hat tilted over her blonde hair.
"Smell my feet?" Sarah snorted finishing the old phrase, crossing her arms over her chest plate. "That's your Halloween bit?"
"If you insist!" I said, as I pulled out the antique pocket watch. It swung from my fingers before she could close the door on me. Golden light pulsed from its face, washing over their startled expressions. "Trick or treat," I repeated softly as the watch ticked louder than crickets in autumn grass. "Let me smell your feet." Their shoulders slumped instantly, eyes glazing like frosted windows.
Inside, they arranged themselves on the floral couch like obedient dolls. I knelt before Sarah first, peeling off her yellow vinyl boot. The scent of warm leather and sweat bloomed in the air as I pressed my nose to her high arch, tracing the salty curve with my tongue. Her toes curled slightly against my cheek. Mia's nylon-clad soles tasted of new carpet and peppermint lotion when I moved to her and removed the stockings. Mia’s soles were softer, smoother, like brushed silk against my lips, tasting faintly of peppermint.
Mrs. Henderson's bare feet smelled like expensive hand cream. Her feet were wider, the skin slightly calloused at the heel from gardening, yet impossibly soft elsewhere, worn yet resilient. I pressed my face into her instep, breathing deep. Her big toe twitched against my cheekbone. Ten minutes dissolved in worship—arches, heels, the delicate bones beneath soft skin.
The pumpkin bucket clattered onto the coffee table. Three pairs of eyelids fluttered as I slipped the watch back into my pocket. "Great costumes!" I pressed my face one last time into each of their insteps, breathing deep. With the occasion big toe twitching against my cheekbone.
I grabbed some chocolate and departed. Maybe I'd come back when I saw what other treats I could get down the street.
