Czech Soles - Drunk chick foot worship

DESCRIPTION: Bety is gone—slurring, limp, her mascara smudged like war paint. Charlie tucks her in, ready to leave... until there—her socked feet escape the blanket, striped knee-highs wrinkled at the ankles. The toes twitch, the fabric damp with sweat and that scent—gin mixed with something uniquely her. "She won’t even know..." His thumb hooks under the sock, peeling it down to reveal a pink sole, the skin slightly tacky. The first taste is salt and cheap vodka. Bety mumbles, her heel jerking—Charlie freezes—but she just sighs, sinking deeper into the pillow. "One more..." His tongue drags between her toes, worshipping just long enough to memorize her flavor before guilt kicks in.