The Bank of Darcy

I was scheduled to meet Darcy at the hairdresser’s on Wednesday and then go out to dinner at the restaurant next door. I thought it odd as I came to the door only to find out that they had closed an hour earlier. I knocked anyway and a woman came to open the door. She introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Helen. Darcy’s waiting for you.” Judging by the name of the place, “Hair by Helen,” I assumed she was the owner.

Darcy was sitting at a table, with fingers splayed. “They’re still drying she explained.” She pursed her lips and I bent forward to kiss her. I could smell the acetone and other chemicals used on women to give them “the natural look.” While I appreciated Darcy’s “dolling up” for me, I thought she looked just fine straight from the shower.

Without missing a beat, and as casually as telling me to fetch her a tissue, Darcy said, “Strip!” I knew it was an order, and the presence of another woman didn’t countermand it.

As I was disrobing, Darcy laid out the ground rules for the evening. “Helen’s agreed to help me with a project. I like to have pedicures, but they are such a pain. I’ll keep coming back to Helen for the cutting and buffing and shaping of my toenails, but there’s no reason I should have to do the daily touchups on my own. She’s going to train you how to do my feet. We also have a couple of other surprises in store for you as well.”

About that time, there was another knock on the door. Helen said, “I’ll get it.”

“That would be dinner.” Darcy explained, “I took the liberty of ordering Chinese. This is going to take a while.”

The three of us sat there eating. The two women fully dressed, while I sat on a stool rice bowl (or cardboard facsimile thereof) in my hand demonstrating my skill in the use of chop sticks.

I was designated to clean up after the meal and then the lessons began in earnest.

Helen was the instructor. Darcy was the model and I was the student.

“The first thing you are going to want to do is get the proper equipment. I’m sure that as a guy, you appreciate using the right tool for each job.” Little did she know that to most guys, almost any tool can be used as a hammer. A beer bottle opener was as sophisticated as most of them got. Fortunately, I had a moderate amount of skill with my hands.

“First you’re going to want the remove the old polish.” She reached for a bottle. “I call this my ‘industrial strength’ nail polish remover. It contains acetone. You can get acetone-free stuff and it isn’t as drying, but it doesn’t work on dark colors such as what Darcy is wearing.

Use a cotton pad like this. Don’t use cotton balls, they leave behind ‘fuzzies’ and who wants fuzzy toes?

Just rub like this away from the toe. If you get a tough spot, leave the pad on for a couple of moments and let it soak in. If you do it right the first time and you don’t leave the polish on too long, you shouldn’t have this problem.

Now you try it.”

I’ve always loved handling Darcy’s feet. They are so feminine when compared to mine. She seemed to enjoy the sensation as well. “Remember,” I heard Helen say, “away from the toe. Acetone won’t hurt skin, but it will dry it out.”

I probably spent at least a minute per toe doing this exercise. I am sure that Helen could have whipped through the task in less than a quarter of that time. But for me it was a labor of love and worth taking the extra effort.

“Not bad – for a rookie,” Helen commented. “Now let’s let them dry a bit.”

As I sat up – or perhaps I should say knelt up, she tossed another cotton pad, “Clean up that mess,” she said pointing to my very erected and dripping penis.

She then reached into her magic draw and pulled out the most incongruous items: toothpaste and a toothbrush. Weren’t we at the wrong end of the body for this equipment?

“You see the little bit of yellowing on the nail? If you use a whitening toothpaste and gently brush the nails with a soft tooth brush, it will help remove some of that.” She demonstrated and I followed her example. Darcy giggled as I inadvertently tickled her with the brush.

After completing all 10 toes, I was directed to wash them clean with and ordinary rag. I then patted Darcy’s feet dry with a towel.

“I like to finish off with some lavender oil,” Helen said, putting a drop on one of the nails, and then gently buff it with a buffer. She how clean and white it looks?”

As I was attending to this task (realizing by now that a pedicure is a quite involved process), Helen suggested, “You can try other oils as well like lemon, but I prefer lavender.”

“Now we’re ready for the critical part: the actual cutting of the nails. I want you to watch me very closely, and when it comes your turn, I’m going to supervise you very closely. In the other parts of a pedicure, you can make mistakes and correct them. With cutting you only get one chance, so make sure you do it properly.

The main focus is to cut straight across. Don’t try to cut around the corner. Get your head directly over the nail and look straight down on it. You want to cut it just so it doesn’t extend over the tip of the toe.”

Here she took Darcy’s feet and moved them side by side so I could see the before and after. She did another one just to make sure I had the concept.

Helen cautioned me sharply, “If you do it wrong, Darcy might wind up with an ingrown toenail. Not only is that painful, but it can be dangerous as well. You don’t want to do that to her, do you?”

“No ma’am,” I responded.

“Now you do it. Position the clippers where you think you should have them but don’t press down. I want to look to make sure you are doing it right.” The way she was looking over my shoulder reminded me of my kindergarten teacher the first time I attempted to use scissors in class. Here was the voice of experience teaching the clumsy novice.

Again, I probably took a lot more time than was practical, but I was intent on doing this critical task just right.

Helen inspected my work much a scientist in a clean room looking at the quality of a microchip. Every millimeter of Darcy’s toenails was inspected with scientific precision. I am sure that Helen’s trained eye was as accurate as a micrometer.

“You did a good job,” she finally said. “Good but not perfect. At least you were safe. It’s going to take some more practice before you can call yourself a pro. Did you remember what I told you about cutting?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then repeat it to me.”

“Cut straight across and even with the edge of the toe.”

“Good boy!” Helen looked at Darcy the two women smiled at each other. I guess I was doing OK and this made me feel good.

Helen continued. “Now we are ready for rounding the nails. You don’t want a fully rounded nail. You just need to unsquare the corners.”

I looked at the emery board she handed me. I knew enough from my shop class and woodworking to start with the coarse side to shape, and the fine side to smooth. I loved handling each of Darcy’s toes individually. Soon I had them perfectly shaped. Even Helen had to admit that. It looks like there are parts of this process I’m actually good at.

“Now it’s time to soak her feet. Follow me!”

As I got up, both women caught sight of my erection and the penis to floor, sticky threat of pre-cum that extended from it. There were several drips on the floor already.

Darcy said, “You’re embarrassing me. You should be demonstrating some control in front of me and Helen. I’m going to have to spank you.”

“I’d like to see that,” Helen added. Turning to me she said, “I can’t have you messing up my shop. Clean that mess, and YOU up.” I was pointed to some paper towels to accomplish this task.

Meanwhile Helen was off rummaging through some draws and came back with a condom. Darcy looked at her and she explained, “It’s a long story. He’s not the first man to be naked in here.”

“We going to have to put this on you so you can keep your messes to yourself.” She looked at Darcy who replied, “You can do the honors.”

“Hands on head.” I felt particularly vulnerable in this position. My penis was sticking out for all the world (or at least these two women) to see. It always feels funny when Darcy puts a rubber on me. Helen had a slightly different technique. As she rolled it on she continually brushed my head with her palms. I could have shot off right there, but tried as hard as I could to hold back. Cumming without Darcy’s permission and under these circumstances would have merited severe rebuke from Darcy. I dared not disappoint her again.

Properly sheathed and at the very edge of cumming, I was put back to work. “Follow me,” Helen instructed.

I was sent to fetch some basins on the top shelf of a closet. “That’s a dear,” Helen said, “I usually have to get a step stool to get those. Bring the first stack down and leave them on the table. Take one with you.”

Next, I filled the basin with warm water and placed it at Darcy’s feet. Helen poured in some Epsom salt and had me dissolve it with the swish of her hand. She then added a couple of drops of a sweet-smelling oil. “Aromatherapy,” she announced. The word apparently meant something to Darcy.

Then she went to the refrigerator and got what looked like a milk container and poured some of the liquid in. “What’s that?” asked Darcy.

“It’s my special ingredient – a special cream,” she answered secretively and then added as lightly as possible, ‘It’s milk!”

“Milk?” Darcy and I exclaimed in unison.

“Yes, I read about it somewhere and thought it was crazy, but I tried it and it really does make the skin and feet softer.”

“I wonder if I put cream – perhaps whipped cream – on my feet if my friend here would like licking it off when I was done with it?”

Indeed I would!

Darcy placed her feet into the warm bath and sighed. “This feels so delicious. Now that I have nothing to do for the next 15 or 20 minutes, I’ll have to find something to keep me busy.” She looked around at the stack of women’s magazines at hand.

“I know,” she said suddenly brightening up., “Since my feet are on the floor anyway, and my knees are drawn up into a convenient lap, I know a naughty boy who needs to get a spanking.”

The chair was designed so that the arms actually folded down, presenting that lap to me. She just waved me over and I draped myself over her. It was a familiar position.

“Now what can I use to spank with?” She mused in a mocking tone. “Oh silly me. This is a hair salon. Helen, you wouldn’t happen to have a hairbrush handy?”

Helen did. She went to her table and reached into a lower drawer and pulled out an ivory looking hairbrush. It had a floral design carved into the back. It did not seem to be the commercial grade equipment that was commonplace in the rest of the shop. “This was mom’s. I keep it for special occasions.” I wondered how many “special occasions” they had at the shop.

Darcy was not a hard spanker. The purpose of the punishment wasn’t to inflict pain, but to reinforce her dominance over me. She didn’t do it to hurt me; she did it because she could, and I let her. Nonetheless, it was an embarrassing position both relationship-wise and physically to be in, especially with another woman witnessing the act. Indeed, this is the first time anyone has watched me get a spanking.

I really didn’t know how many wallops Darcy gave men, but my ass was sore by the time she was done. It took a lot less time than the 20 minutes, but it was effective and my lesson was learned.

Darcy handed the brush back to Helen and made me stand up and face her. “Apologize to Ms. Helen for messing up her floor.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Helen.” I muttered.

“Now go stand in the corner with your hands on your head while us women discuss important stuff.” Darcy said. “And there is also this,” Darcy said reaching for her purse. She retrieved her checkbook: THE checkbook, and wrote out, “Pay to the bearer on demand: 1,000 lines.” As she completed the check and handed it to Helen, she explained, “I want you to write out 1,000 times by hand the following phrase, ‘I will not let my penis drip on Helen’s floor.’ Then bring the completed assignment to Helen. You have until she closes up tomorrow to get this done.”

I stood in the corner, as ordered, naked with hands on head listening to the women chatter. It always amazes me at the number of topics women can talk about. With men it’s sex, politics, religion and sports: what else is there?

I was eventually recalled from the corner to continue waiting on Ms. Darcy.

“Now we come to another delicate operation: cuticle removal. Part of the reason for the soaking was to prepare the feet for this critical part.

There’s a special preparation for this. It’s called cuticle remover. Once again, you have to be very careful with this stuff. You have to get it on the cuticle, but keep it off the toes. Apply it, leave it on for a minute and then go to work.”

Helen whisked the lotion on Darcy’s toes without missing a beat in her talk. I was a little disappointed in that I wanted to try this myself. Nonetheless, the requisite minute was up in what seemed like 10 seconds.

“This next part requires some skill,” she warned. She grabbed hold of what looked like a bamboo chute, but I later found out was an orangewood stick. “Use the end of the stick to rub away the remnants of the cuticle. Be careful not to irritate the toe.”

She had me do it and I was surprised at how the cuticle gave way under this treatment.

“Sometimes you may have a flap of skin that is too much to erode away. In that cane use cuticle nippers like these to remove the flap. Be careful not to cut the toe skin.”

For what seemed the tenth time today I washed Darcy’s feet.

“Now it’s time to take care of the rest of her feet,” Helen said, handing me a wet pumice stone. “It’s a pedicure. Ped: from the Latin for foot. It’s not entirely about just the nails.”

“Work the stone round and round on the calluses. Don’t spend too much time in one place, you can come back to it. Work it until it gets barely pink. Any darker than that and you’ve done too much.”

I spent what seemed to be a half an hour on each foot. I didn’t want to stop. I love Darcy’s feet. (Well, I love all parts of her, but her feet are particularly attractive).

“This is something you can do between full treatments. In fact it is better to do it a little bit often than a lot only every now and then.”

Once again I washed her feet and this time dried them thoroughly. I was handed some lotion to massage her feet and calves. At this part, at least, I was an expert. Even Helen acknowledged it, “Hey Darcy, can you send him over sometime? I know some women who would pay good money for what he’s doing.”

Helen had me paint on a dab of cuticle oil with a Q-tip. I loved doing this type of things and the best part is that it was times 10. “Let that sit and soak in for a while.” I always wondered why it took hours for Darcy to get a pedicure. Now I know a lot of it is waiting for things to “soak in.”

“Now let’s get those nails ready for the main event. Very careful with the acetone remover.”

“Cuticles too?”

“Cuticles too!”

“But I just … Oh, never mind.” It didn’t make sense to remove that which I just put on, but I though better about questioning Helen’s instructions.”

Using a hand held fan, I blew Darcy’s toes dry.

“What color did we decide on today?” Helen asked Darcy.

Darcy picked out a shade of pink. I am sure it has a name that distinguishes it from the many other shades of pink that look almost exactly like it. I think that the average woman knows the names of over a thousand colors. Like most guys, I know the names of 8 of them: those that came in the box of crayolas in kindergarten.

If it were totally up to me, this is the point where I would have been an hour ago. It seems that a pedicure takes about a much preparation as a Space Shuttle Launch.

“The key is to use three smooth strokes per toe: one down the middle and one on each side. Use exactly the amount of polish you need and no more. You want to make the coat as thin as possible. Then let it dry and do it again two more times for a total of three coats.”

I actually had the skill for this too. As a kid I was fond of putting together model airplanes. Painting the details took a close eye and a steady hand. Even the brushes were about the same size.

I sat back on my haunches to look at my completed product. Her toes looked magnificent.

“Hey! You’re not done yet.”

What else could there be?

“You still need a top coat to seal the color in.”

I was wondering that if I put masking tape on her toes, if I could just spray paint it on.

Yet another application, and yet another drying period. The tedium and repetition was wearing me down. I am sure from Darcy’s standpoint, the experience was entirely different being on the receiving end of the pampering.

Helen inspected the work. “Not bad. Maybe I can hire you and put you to work when Darcy doesn’t need you.”

“Dream on,” Darcy laughed.

“A girl can try, can’t she?”

Helen completed her instructions, “If you make a mistake, you can usually clean it up using a stick with a bit of cotton at the end of it and some acetone remover. It’s better not to make mistakes in the first place.”

The way they go through acetone remover in this place had me wondering if they sold it in 55-gallon drums at Sam’s Club.

“She has to let them dry completely for about 40 minutes. Be a dear and pour us some wine. Pour some for yourself if you wish it.”

Apparently class was over and I was dismissed for recess. I felt the control switching back from Helen to Darcy. We spent the next 40 minutes having a very normal conversation; if you consider two fully dressed women and one naked man normal.

Helen actually finished off the procedure with some sort of a moisturizing spray

“Thank you, Helen. That was great. I can now add that to the list of things he can do for me.” And who else, I wondered. Would I be handed a check with the words, “Pay to the bearer on demand: one pedicure.”

As we were leaving, Darcy asked, “Have you taught many men to do pedicures?”

“Just one, but you’d be surprised at the number of women who bring their husbands and boyfriends in here to get them.”