He took another deep sip of his drink. “Uh… may I ask what you’re doing to my feet?”
“Trying to be distracting. Is it working?”
“Yeah, I would say creepishly so,” he frowned down at the girl by his feet.
“Which bit? Being at your feet or playing with your shoelaces?” She frowned back up at him. “I can be distracting in other ways, I suppose. What would you like?”
“Uh, both. Just, please don’t tell me you’re one of those people with a foot fetish. I always found that… weird,” Tony shivered slightly as he downed the rest of his drink.
“No, I don’t have a foot fetish. Mine is hands.” Her gaze flickered down to his hands, wrapped around the tumbler, and unconsciously she licked her lips. “I’m at your feet because I know I’m short, and I’ve no problem emphasising that. It makes people let down their guard around me. Underestimate me.” She shrugged.