Tsugu’s ears went hot at Chloe’s sleepy little murmur.
“Um… g-good.”
Her own voice cracked, almost back to the quiet class–presentation squeak she hated.
She pressed her lips shut after the single word, glanced at the chandelier so she wouldn’t have to meet those hazy brown eyes, then looked down again anyway. Chloe really was stretching her whole leg like a dancer warming up, thigh still trembling from holding it there. Her foot, only a hand-span from Tsugu’s face, smelled faintly of strawberry soap after the walk here.

Tsugu swallowed.
Her tiny fingers fluttered at the hem of the pinafore.
“C-Chloe… you can put it down now.”
She shuffled a step closer, not letting the couch cushion dip too much.
The polished cotton of Chloe’s sock grazed Tsugu’s cheek when the leg lowered. Warm toes, damp from the shoe on a summer walk, touched the grey merino of Tsugu’s beret and then rested—perfectly still—on the same green velvet seat. Chloe lowered her foot obediently on the cushion, legs resting sideways, knees bent.

Tsugu wasn’t sure why her heart was going so fast. The whole living room smelled like cedar and the rose soap the house-cleaning lady used. Somewhere downstairs the big grandfather clock gave a single dry clack.

With Chloe looking into softened focus, Tsugu let her fingertip poke very lightly at the wrinkled pink hoodie on Chloe’s shoulder.
“Hm… okay, next is…” She chewed the tip of her tongue, thinking.
“Close your eyes?” she asked, quieter than a whisper. She wasn’t bossy once it came out; it almost sounded like she was begging.

Chloe’s eyelids slid shut without hesitation. The brown lashes on tanned cheeks, the tiny freckles at the bridge of her nose—everything frozen except for the gentle rise and fall under that hoodie. Tsugu leaned in. The shy spark flared again and she forgot to breathe.

She wanted—something. Her own thigh muscles tingled; something in the pit of her tummy felt tickly and hot.
Her hand hovered, hesitated, crept closer until her thumbnail grazed the bare skin above Chloe’s ankle sock. She stared at the delicate bump of Chloe’s shin-bone under sun-tanned skin, the tiny blue vein that disappeared into the sock rim.

A nervous giggle slipped out before Tsugu could stop it, squeakier than any “doll-like” voice she used online.
“C-Chloe? Do your toes feel ticklish… r-right now?” The question wobbled. She didn’t dare order, only ask, as if the room might overhear.

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Pub: 11 Jul 2025 19:02 UTC

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