The Angry Itch

The washroom door creaked open, and Jon stepped into a sprawling office. The sight before him was nothing extraordinary - grey carpets, white walls - but something felt familiar about it, as if he belonged in this space. Jon hoisted his purse up on his shoulder, pondering the room with a sense of curiosity.

As he moved away from the washroom, Jon passed by cubicles occupied by men deep in their work. Some dressed in traditional office attire, while others adorned in skirts, blouses, and dresses. Crossdressers. His steps quickened as he hurried along as quickly as his could travel safely in his heels, not wanting to be surrounded by the unusual sight any longer. What was going on? Why were so many men in Girl World dressed like women. And where, at that, were the women, anyway?

Jon's luck had so far been so good in Girl World - the club where he danced, the fight he won, and the darling boy he once mothered had all been wonderful experiences. But now, as he wandered through the bustling office, he worried that his luck was running out. Each time he'd lost or soiled some clothing, something happened to turn things right. Each time he'd been without direction, some helpful person pointed him in the right direction. No matter how familiar the space felt, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he had lost his way.

Then he stopped. Not because there was nowhere else to go, but because he felt like he had arrived. His attention was drawn to a door on his left leading to a board room. The grandiose room was filled with chairs surrounding a large oaken table, all but one occupied. As Jon entered, the man in the expensive Italian suit halted his presentation and fixed his gaze upon him.

"Jon my boy! You made it! I was hoping you would!" the man bellowed, his gruff voice echoing throughout the room.

All of the suited men rose from their chairs as Jon took his seat (the men dressed as women remained seated), the man beside him even pulling out his chair and tucking him in. Jon couldn't help but think that this was a sweet gesture.

The large man at the front continued his presentation, not missing a step in the interruption. He droned on and on about projections, stats, trends, all things that Jon knew were important, but try as he might, he couldn't hold onto the details. Instead, Jon's mind kept focusing on the itch he had in his left foot. It started as a small tickle, barely noticeable at first. But soon, it was all-consuming, an infernal itch that refused to be ignored.

Not wanting to draw attention, Jon wiggled his stockinged foot in his pump. That had worked for a few minutes. But after a while the itch got worse. The subtle movements worked for a few minutes, but the itch only grew more persistent. Without thinking, Jon kicked off his right shoe and used the tip of his other shoe to scratch his foot. When that stopped working, he tried rubbing it on the carpet, but that didn't work at all. It was driving him crazy!

He stretched his foot out under the table, hoping that a change in circulation would help. What he found, however, was another person's leg! Across from Jon sat a short, balding man, slightly overweight, wearing a blue suit. In Jon's stretch, his toes had run up the shin of the man. Worried that he had upset the man, distracted him from the meeting, Jon pulled his foot back and looked apologetically at him.

Instead of frustration, however, Jon saw a look of approval on the man's face. He was smiling at Jon, a friendly, hungry, predatory smile, the kind that would make a heart melt with warmth. Then the man winked at Jon. That was it, it was obvious that the man understood Jon's plight, that he knew the itch would slowly drive Jon mad if nothing was done.

Scooting himself down a couple inches, not so much that the people around him would notice but enough so that he could reach, Jon slowly rubbed his foot up and down the man's shin, the feeling of the stocking rubbing against the man's cotton pants easing the itch. The man, wanting to help, cinched his chair closer to the table, giving Jon better access. No longer did Jon have to be satisfied with his toes rubbing shins, he was able to rub his full foot, top, bottom, up and down the man's leg, from his ankle all the way up his thigh.

The itch, however, would not relent. It moved fully onto the bottom of Jon's foot. Jon stretched his leg and pressed it gently toward the man, hoping for relief. He found it! There was a bump forming in the man's groin, sticking out just aggressively enough to give Jon something to rub against. The problem, however, was that the itch had spread from his right foot to his left!

Wasting no time, Jon kicked off his other shoe. Noticing the greedy look of pleasure on the man's face, Jon winked at the man and brought his left foot up to the balding man's crotch, joining his right. Up and down did his stockinged feet rub, the bump in the man's crotch providing the perfect scratching post. He was careful not to alert the men in the room, nor the crossdressers, of what he was doing. The last thing he wanted to do was be a distraction to his coworkers.

Jon savored the sweet relief that the man's groin was providing for his itching feet. The heavenly pleasure of the friction coursed through his body, causing him to let out a soft moan of contentment. He couldn't believe that the man was so selfless as to endure this discomfort just to give Jon a small moment of joy, especially in the middle of such an important meeting. Jon felt a surge of gratitude and admiration for the man, and couldn't help but smile to himself as he continued to rub his feet against the bump in the man's pants.

As the balding man's face turned a deep shade of red and a vein appeared on his forehead, Jon could tell that the sensation was becoming too much for him. Soon Jon would have to stop. He hoped the itch would be gone by then.

Eyes closed, the man leaned back in his chair and let out a deep, satisfying sigh. Jon's heart raced as he looked around the room, fearful that someone had noticed the exchange taking place between him and the balding man. To his relief, everyone in the meeting was still intently listening to the presentation, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding beneath the table.

As Jon's toes continued to rub against the man's crotch, he felt a warm and damp sensation seeping through his stockings. He couldn't help but wiggle his toes in delight, wondering what the substance could be. Perhaps the man had spilled something on himself.

With a sense of relief, Jon ceased his rubbing and discovered that the nagging itch had completely disappeared. A wave of happiness washed over him, and he could finally concentrate on the presentation at hand. Sitting upright in his chair, he slipped his damp toes back into his pumps. As the man across from him excused himself for a phone call and walked away, careful to cover his groin with a manila folder he was holding, probably feeling ashamed of the spilled substance, Jon smiled contentedly. He was pleased that his good fortune had not been interrupted. In that moment, he realized that Girl World was as amazing as it had always been.