You sat against the expensive, leather interior of her seat in the passenger side of her sleek, black car. Many shopping bags in the back seat, along with on the floor of her car.

She pats the middle console between both the seats, indicating for you to swing your legs over into her lap, to which you did. She delicately undoes your heels one at a time with one hand, the other resting on your leg.

She tosses each heel into the back, not caring where they land. In one of the shopping bags, on the seat, she’ll get them later. She leans down, kissing the skin of your legs.

Both of your feet lay bare against her lap, your fresh pedicure on display. A soft, baby pink polish coating your nails. She carefully, with the right amount of pressure, massages the soles of your feet.

Thankfully, the restaurant parking lot was mostly empty, and she had tint, so no one could see you getting massaged in the passenger seat, or whatever else you both get up to in her car.

You’d had been complaining since you left the mall about how much they hurt from the heels after walking around, which she had to throw you over her shoulder so you wouldn’t have to walk. Not that she minded carrying you though.

“Darling, I can’t understand how you willingly walk in heels that high.” She said as she kept up the massage, making you moan. You close your eyes, relaxing into the seat. She smirks, biting her lip. “Maybe it’s because you want me to massage your feet.” She teases and chuckles.

“I should get you some flats..” She teases, though not joking. Her voice mixing with the low volume of the radio, only making the atmosphere between you two cozier.