"No Graham, come on now, the underside of thesocks, the part where my sweaty foot has pressed against the dirtyinside of my shoe. Taste my dirt, show ...ow low you've sunk."I did, I had to fight back waves of nausea. He left me with them in mymouth as he walked around my house. The longer they were in my mouththe wetter they got and the more the taste of sweaty feet and dirtyshoe invaded my mouth. But I dare not remove them, instead I foughtback the urge to throw up, gagging as I did.He. It was quite chilly still - it was mid-February after all. There, sitting at the computer desk all huddled was Kate. Studying. As usual.She was wearing a light gray sweater with sleeves too long for her small arms and a light pink pair of track pants. With the way she was huddled, you would have thought she was trying to absorb the heat from the computer.Yet, she looked completely adorable ... and delectable. I quietly took off my shoes, although the cold floor bit into my sock-clad feet, and. More

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