The Deal Maker
Chapter 3
Then, ever so slowly, Vanessa's other hand slid up Claire's calf, fingertips gliding over her pantyhose, savouring the curve of muscle beneath.
"You always wear such pretty shoes," her voice teasing as her fingers trailed along the delicate strap of Claire's stiletto. With a gentle but firm touch, she unfastened the buckle, the faint metallic click echoing in the dimly lit room. She slid her hand beneath Claire's arch, lifting her foot slightly as she tugged the shoe free, exposing her foot against the cool air.
Claire exhaled, watching Vanessa's every movement with her green eyes, the loss of her heel making her feel oddly vulnerable. But clearly Vanessa wasn't done. Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles along the arch of her foot before pressing lightly against the delicate bones of her ankle.
"You have no idea how easy it would be to break your ankle... But I won't," she murmured, fingers caressing the joint with something almost like reverence. She turned Claire's foot gently, rotating it in small, methodical motions, testing the flexibility before pressing her thumbs along the tendons, feeling the slight resistance.
Claire sucked in a breath when Vanessa applied the smallest bit of pressure. It wasn't painful...yet...but there was an intimacy to it, an awareness in the way Vanessa's fingers played over the vulnerable spot.
"Are you sure you want this?" Vanessa asked, her voice low, her hands waiting just long enough for Claire to make the final call.
Claire swallowed, then gave a slow nod. "Do it."
Vanessa's grip tightened, her fingers firm but teasing as they circle Claire's slender ankle. Her gaze never wavered, studying Claire's every reaction as she slowly began to rotate the delicate joint. The smooth skin beneath her palm was warm, tense, bracing for what was coming.
With a deliberate, measured movement, she twisted, just enough, finding that perfect angle. A sharp jolt shot through Claire's ankle, spiralling up her calf like a slow burn. Her breath caught, a small gasp escaping her red lips, as her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her. The tendons in her foot shifted under Vanessa's touch, her toes curling slightly inside the high heel still dangling from her other foot.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sensation a mix of pain and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name. Vanessa's thumb brushed over the now-tender curve of her ankle, lingering, testing, almost savouring.
"There, it's ok..." Vanessa murmured, releasing her with a slow, almost affectionate glide of her hand down Claire's calf. "Now you've got your sprain."
Claire reached blindly for her glasses, sliding them back onto her nose. Her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. She glanced down at her ankle, now beginning to swell, a deep shade of purple and red blooming beneath the delicate skin. The shape had already changed slightly, her foot angled awkwardly, the soft curves of her instep contrasting with the sharp tension in her ligaments. Her black stocking was torn at the side, exposing the injured flesh, while her high heel lay nearby.
With a slow smile curling on her lips. "Perfect." Claire exhaled sharply, wincing as she gingerly flexed her toes. "It looks bad enough, doesn't it?"
"It'll sell the act. He'll have no choice but to react. Let the games begin"
Vanessa crouched, hands steadying Claire's calf as she traced a thumb over the quickly swelling ankle. "Perfectly sprained. Nothing serious, just enough to make you limp with pain and use crutches if you want. Think you can play the part?"
Claire smiles, biting her lower lip before nodding. "Oh, I can play it. I was a theatre major before joining the firm"
Vanessa leaned in slightly, her breath warm against Claire's flushed skin. "Then go reel him in. And remember... the best predators let their prey think they're the ones in control." She grinned through the pain, already imagining the next step of the game.
The next morning, Claire sat at the edge of her bed, her injured foot resting delicately on her lap. If he were watching her now, how would he see her? She imagined his gaze lingering, dark and intrigued over her leg and injured ankle, as she carefully rubbed with the Ace bandage rolled the puffiness of her ankle, pressing just enough to make herself wince, the sensation a mix of dull ache and tingling awareness.
She felt wetness between her legs as she smoothed the bandage over the swollen joint again, the gentle friction sending a shiver up her calf. She wasn't just dressing for a sprain, she was crafting a scene, an image, one that would settle into his mind and stay there.
Would he picture her like this? Perched on the edge of her bed, one bare foot flexing, the other bound in soft restraint, her thighs shifting as she adjusted? Would he wonder how it felt when she slid her fingers along her sprained ankle to the arch of her foot, down to her toes, testing her own limits?
Or would he want to break it to see her in a cast? The thought sent a pulse of satisfaction through her.
She rolled the second bandage snugly, exhaling through her nose, securing her injured ankle that still throbbed from the night before. She winced slightly, adjusting the tension, ensuring it was snug but not too tight. Every motion sent pain up her calf, a constant reminder of Vanessa's careful handiwork.
She admired the contrast of the pale bandage against her smooth pantyhose, the sheer fabric shimmering faintly under the morning light. It was just tight enough to support her without completely immobilizing her foot. The ache lingered, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, but she didn't mind the pain; it was all part of the plan.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Claire stood carefully, placing her weight on her good foot before reaching for the outfit she had picked for the day. She slipped into a sleek grey skirt that hugged her hips and thighs, stopping just above the knee. The soft material stretched as she moved, accentuating the long, graceful lines of her legs.
A white blouse tucked neatly into the waistband, completing the look of pure sophistication. Next came her shoes, at least, one of them. She picked up her classic black stiletto, sliding her left foot inside, the familiar arching curve instantly transforming her posture. Was that dangerous while using crutches she wondered.
Her gaze drifted to her bandaged foot, pale and vulnerable against the hardwood floor. She flexed it slightly, testing the movement she tried to put weight on it, a sharp pain through her ankle in response.
"Fuck," she murmured, grabbing onto the nightstand for balance. The pain was real, deep enough to send another pulse of warmth through her calf.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the crutches propped against the wall. Their cool metal felt solid under her hands as she adjusted them to the perfect height on her heel. With slow, deliberate movements, she eased her weight off her bad ankle, shifting smoothly onto the crutches. The moment she was upright, she felt the delicious contrast. One foot grounded in a sleek, polished heel, the other wrapped in soft layers of bandage, suspended just slightly off the floor. It was impossible not to notice her.
A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips.
The Deal Maker
Chapter 4 to come
K
