“Swap your legs, Miss Grey. Right one up.” Regarding him through narrowed eyes, I uncross my legs, then cross them again so my right one is crossed over the left. He bends, wraps his hand around my right ankle, undoes the clasp, and slips the strap from my heel. He removes the shoe, and I stare at his hands as he wipes the wine from my foot with a white napkin he’s taken from the table. When he’s done, he puts my heel back on and closes the clasp. Holding my ankle, he slowly lowers my leg back down.
