You get him a soda.

By the look of things you thought he could probably use a beer right about now, but unfortunately the two of you had already polished them all off and Randall had yet to buy more. There was a bottle of wine though. Maybe he'd like wine... It wasn't something you yourself drunk (not that you really drunk much at all), but your Auntie was obviously a fan, having not only the bottle in the fridge, but several on a rack next to it as well. Guess there's no harm in asking.

"You wanna try this white wine that's in here?" you said, holding up the bottle for Randall to see. Assuming perhaps that he might have put it there himself.

"Wine? What the fuck, dude?" came his less than impressed response, "I'm not gay!" Clearly he hadn't put it there.

Informing him of the lack of beer, he told you just to grab him a soda. Not being particularly fussed either way.

"Alright. One Dr. Pepper coming up," you said, putting the wine back and grabbing two soda's instead. Figuring you deserved one yourself for being stuck outside the apartment for the best part of half an hour.

"Thanks," he said as you walked over and handed him the bottle, sitting down on the couch opposite his armchair. "Who knew work could be this hard?"

Laughing a little at this while Randall then gave you a quick run down of all the meetings he'd had to attend. Phone calls he'd had to make. Clients he'd had to rush back and forth across town to talk to. It did sound pretty exhausting right enough, and clearly he was glad to be off his feet.

Speaking of feet, while he was telling you all this - moaning about one particular, very important, "fucking ass wipe" of a client that he'd been **** to spend the day with (explaining the whole super professional attire) - you watched as he stretched out his nylon covered legs and planted them on top of the coffee table. Wiggling his dainty little toes in your direction.

"...And those stupid fucking heels were like **** on my feet the whole time. Whoever invented them needs to be shot!"

You'd often heard this said before, and you could certainly see why. Not entirely even sure how women fit into those things, never mind walk. He did only have himself to blame though. He could have just as easily have worn a pair of sneakers or flats. Sure, they probably wouldn't look quite so good, but it would save all this complaining.

"You don't...you don't fancy giving me a foot rub do you?" he then asked, grinning at you hopefully. Wiggling his toes even more for added effect. "They're really fucking sore."

"A foot rub?" you questioned. Not entirely sure he was serious.

"Yeah. I know it might seem a little weird. But you must have given one before... back when you were going out with Beth. And you'd really be doing me a solid."

"Uh, no. I never gave Beth any foot rubs," you quickly corrected him. You and Beth having done little more than hold hands and make out when you were together. "And I'm not entirely sure I wanna be touching your sweaty fucking feet."

Randall was adamant however. "C'mon, don't be an ass," he said, smirking again as your Auntie's voice sweetened, "Be a good little nephew and give your Auntie a foot rub. There's a shiny penny in it for you if you do."

This once again made you cringe. Not really being a fan of this form of teasing. Not because it brought up memories of your real Aunt or anything, but just because of how patronizing and ridiculous it sounded.

Purely for that reason you were tempted to say no, but in actual fact, as odd a thing to do as it was, looking now at his long toned legs and admittedly rather attractive looking feet (if there was such a thing), you did actually have an overpowering urge to put your hands on them. To feel the material of the pantyhose beneath your fingers, and touch this beautiful woman who was so casually sitting across from you. Just because you'd been trying not to think about it, didn't mean that you suddenly no longer found his body attractive. And for a guy like you, who'd been single for quite some time, any female flesh was better than none at all.

"Oh alright," you told him, finally relenting (trying to play up your **** a little). "But you really need to cut out that Auntie/nephew shit. It's getting really old."

"What?" he responded, pleading ignorance. "I'm just practicing for when we're out in public is all." The little smirk on his face saying otherwise.

Setting your Dr. Pepper down and pulling yourself up off the couch, you padded over towards him and said, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever...", kneeling down in front of him then and bringing your hands towards his still wriggling feet. You tried to appear as non nonchalant about this as possible, not wanting a repeat of the whole 'bra incident', as you took the left one between your fingers and gently began to massage it, working the tips into his sole. It was actually a rather pleasant feeling. The nylons encasing them being rather smooth and silky to the touch.

"How this?" you asked, looking up at him after about twenty seconds or so. Not entirely sure if you were doing it correctly. "You realize I have no idea what I'm doing here right?"

Assuring you, "No, that's good. That actually feels much better", Randall's body seemed to visibly relax, his head sliding a little further down the back of the armchair. Letting out a contented little sigh. "Geeze. Now I know why women are so hot for these damn things."

You felt somewhat vindicated by this, glad that he was getting as much benefit out of it as you - there being something rather thrilling about actually touching him like this. Continuing on then, doing exactly what you'd been doing, you switched from one foot to the other, kneading away at them and watching as Randall relaxed even more. Closing his eyes then and wearing a smile, you turned your attention back to the foot that was currently in your hands, it looking so much smaller than your own. Randall had always had pretty big feet, but now they looked to be about half the size. You guessed this was just another difference he had to get used to.

Wandering a little further afield, your eyes moved past his feet, towards his impressive legs - those being something you really wanted to touch. Looking very much like a dancers or something. All that work your Auntie had apparently put in at the gym having seemingly paid off.

From the angle you were at, you could actually see slightly up into Randall's gray knee length skirt, catching a glimpse of both a thick black band and just a hint of creamy thigh...

Holy shit, is that... you silently gasped, suddenly realizing that this was not pantyhose he was wearing (as you had first assumed), it was stockings. Well your current arousal level just went up about ten fold, having always had a thing for women in stockings. Finding them to be one of the sexiest items of clothing a woman could wear. Fuck me... I can't believe Randall's actually wearing stockings! There really being no need underneath that very professional looking pinstripe business suit, other than for his own comfort and enjoyment. Which in someways made it seem doubly sexy, causing your imagination to start running wild with images of your Auntie's body in the office, hiking up he skirt and teasingly flashing her colleagues. Stockings in your mind (due to both movies and porn) equating pretty much exclusively to sex.

"You okay, dude?" Randall's voice suddenly piped up. Raising his head again to look at you. "Why did you stop?"

"Uh... Nuh-no reason," you stuttered. The shift of attention from his feet to his stocking tops having caused your fingers to cease all movement for at least a good ten seconds. Letting go then of his feet, feeling a little too flustered to carry on now (worrying that you might suddenly spring a boner), you jumped back up and told him, "I just figured you were fine now. ...I'm not gonna do it all day." This unfortunately came off a little more aggressive than you might of liked, and you could sort of tell by the way Randall was looking at you that he must have figured out the cause.

"No worries then," he told you, surprisingly accepting this excuse as he pulled himself up again in the armchair and slid his feet off the table. "And yeah, I guess it is a little better now. Thanks."

Grabbing your soda and taking a swig, you replied "No problem." Using the bottle as a prop to shield your slightly reddened face.

Announcing then that he might as well get changed, Randall got up off the chair and headed towards the bedroom, telling you as he went to stick on the TV or the XBox or something. Clearly he wasn't going to draw any attention to your embarrassment. Presumably not wanting to create another awkward situation like the last time, and this you were rather glad of. Ignoring it all had worked so far, and it was kind of the only way to be around him now. Anything else would just be way too bizarre.