The Two Managers
by Anonymous

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The following is a true story about myself and a colleague.

I was nearing my last year before I was to go to university at college, and decided to get a better paid job as my previous one just couldn’t offer me the hours I needed. Thankfully, a receptionist job came up at a local hotel and I was hired the same day I handed in my CV, being informed I was already more qualified than most of my colleagues.

I loved the job, and took to it like a duck into water, it was hardly the most challenging of jobs, but I loved organizing things. Soon, my manager was taken ill and signed off work. The Hotel Manageress then offered me the Reception Manager job whilst my colleague was ill. I gladly took it up.

I still maintained my usual duties as a receptionist, only now I was the one that did all the orders for stationery. It was my name that appeared on all letters going out. I was trained to cover all other departments and given my own safe key. But the best thing about it was I got to spend a lot more time with the restaurant manager, David, as we discussed bookings and functions. David was in his mid-thirties, so a lot older than I, but I was attracted to this man, his soft hair, and that little balding spot... not to mention his lovely big feet, cooped up for long periods in the same large black shoes. But he was straight, and as much as he enjoyed flirting with me just to wind me up, I could always put him back into his place.

One day, a guest came to me and complained that their tv wasn’t working properly, so I informed her we’d go and have a look at it. Not knowing anything about tv’s, I brought David with me as I knew he had worked in maintenance before moving to our hotel. Once in there I watched as he knelt down to take a look at the tv, as his trouser leg rolled up to reveal his bare, and hairy leg, and his feet... sockless in the shoe. His head turned to look at me and he knew where my glance was. “What’s wrong?”

I was known as the snobby one at work, and so I contorted my face. “Where are your socks, David?” He returned to look at the TV, which was now tuning itself. “Oh, I’ve just got a new washing machine, and not sure how it works exactly.” I tutted. “Your feet will get all smelly without socks, that’s hardly going to be pleasing to clients in the restaurant is it? Come on. Let’s go get you some clean socks from my place.” He didn’t say no, and so we went to my office to pick up my keys as I only lived around the corner in the next street of the small village anyway.

Once home, I let him take a seat and ran up to grab a pair of clean socks from my dresser. When I came down, he had already removed his shoes to reveal his gorgeous feet. The aroma that hit me made me turn hard instantly, and I couldn’t help but notice the fluff between his toes and over his feet. Unconsciously I knelt down beside those feet and set the fresh socks down. “Um. What are you doing?” I looked up at him ashamed, and it seemed to register to him as a foot sneakily made its way to feel my crotch. “Oh, do tell me.” A smirk grew across his face.

I revealed all... about how I loved male feet, and despite my dominance in the work place and powerful presence, I adored being dominated by real men at home. “Shall we see what we can do later then? Put the socks and my shoes back on my feet. We need to go back to work now, but after work, you’re coming around to my place.” I did as David instructed, and walked side by side with him back. Before we split so I could enter the front entrance, and he the kitchens, he pinched my arse. I quickly stared at him, shocked. “Just feeling my property.”

He stuck out his tongue and walked away, leaving me longing for my shift to end.