About a year and a half ago my (now) ex-wife decided she didn’t like being married and told me she wanted a divorce. It was also about a year after she decided that “kinky” bedroom activities are for young people and that as a married couple we should be having more “normal” sex. When we first met, she was very much into foot fetish activities, even announced that it was “stocking season” the first time she put on stockings each year, so it really sucked when she told me that. Anyway, I hung in there for the sake of the marriage for about a year until the divorce bomb was dropped.
I lived in the far north end of New Jersey, worked in Manhattan, and had a commute of about an hour and forty five minutes each way. On my way to work one day I saw a young woman on the platform of my transfer station wearing a green top and skirt, bright yellow stockings, and brown boots with a block heel. I have a big stocking fetish, so between that and her bright colors in a sea of drab commuters she caught my attention. I looked down the platform a few times, wishing I was young and single again, and daydreamed until the train came. I was hoping to see her on the way home that evening, but no luck. I did see her almost every morning, always dressed in bright colors, always in stockings, and usually wearing what I think were the same brown boots.
One day I left work about an hour late, and who do you think showed up on the transfer platform waiting for the same train as me? So not only did she take the same train from the transfer station into the city, but she took the same train into north NJ as me. I stood there, glancing over at her in a green dress, brown stockings, and boots until the train came and I got on, settling in a window seat towards the front of the train. A few minutes later a flash of green and brown entered my vision, and suddenly the girl from the platform was in the aisle seat right next to me with her backpack plopped her backpack in the seat between us. I wasn’t sure what to do, so looked over to say hello, and she did not look happy.
Her: So, she said, stalk much?
Me: Excuse me?
Her: So you’re not staring at me every day in Secaucus?
Me: Um, sorry, I try not to, but I love the way you dress.
Her: You what?
Me: Well I mean you’re always such a bright splash of color among the black and gray business attire. You just look like sunshine.
At this she relaxed a little and we talked a bit. Her name was Tracy, and was 27 years old, so 21 years younger than me. I feel I should give little reference here. I’m 5’7 about 165lbs, and was 48 at the time. Tracy was a pretty girl, about 5’3″ and my guess would be about 120-125 lbs. Slim, but not model skinny, with fair skin, dirty blond hair that hung to her shoulders when she didn’t have it in a ponytail, dark blue eyes, and a couple of poor quality tattoos on her legs. I’d find out later that those are why she almost always wore stockings. She worked as a hostess in a trendy restaurant, so had a lot of freedom in her work clothes. I work in hospitality too, so we spent the commute talking about that until she got off one stop before me. We chatted a few times over the next couple of weeks, until I told her to get on at the front of the train and I’d save her a seat. After that we rode in together most days, she wore stockings every day, usually in bright colors or bold patterns. I tried hard not to stare, but the stocking and boots look is a huge weakness for me so it was almost impossible sometimes..
One day there was a power outage in the Hoboken train station. The trains weren’t running so I went to the bar and grabbed a beer. About an hour later Tracy snuck up behind me, leaned against me, and asked me to get her a cosmo. We sat there for a couple of hours, and at some point she asked why didnt’ have my wedding ring on. I was flattered that she even noticed, and told her about the impending divorce, that my wife had moved out, and I just finally accepted that it was over. She told me that she kind of understood what I was going through because her girlfriend of five years had moved out recently. She gave me a worried look and said she hoped that didn’t change things. She liked our flirty banter and was afraid that I would lose interest if I knew she was gay, so never brought it up. I told her I probably would have been disappointed if I was younger and thought I had a chance, but that I doubted she would be interested anyway. She wanted to know what that meant,so I thought about it for a minute and finally said “well now it’s my turn to hope things don’t change, but I kind of like feet”. I’ll never forget her response, she just said “and?” After that we talked about it a little, how I almost never brought it up because people thought it was weird, how she dated a guy in high school who liked to suck her toes, that I thought I would have to be more open about it when I got back into the dating world, etc…
Anyway, the trains finally started running and we caught an express back to our areas. With the long delay the train was packed and we got stuck standing in one of the vestibules between cars. She joked that it was too bad we couldn’t sit like usual, and laughed that with her new information she was half considering asking me for a foot massage on the way home. I hoped that there was a little truth in her joke, and told her I’d give her one any time she wanted. She told me that was sweet, but that after a long day at work she wouldn’t take her boots off on the train. I knew what she meant and told her that it wouldn’t bother me at all, in fact I would enjoy that, and if she ever changed her mind all she had to do was ask. She squinted and looked at me for a minute, I guess to see if I was serious or just being a wise ass, and then said “hmm… I may take you up on that some time.”
To be continued…