Five Shades of Ray

After hastily spreading the legs of his latest pick up, Sebastian Ray crouched there like a lion in a feeding frenzy, his tongue growing numb from the strain of his efforts.

“Stop, stop, stop,” she said. “It just ain’t working for me, hon."

Sebastian mumbled something and opened his eyes.

“Oh, don’t look so wounded,” she said. ”I‘m just saying that for a gynecologist you don‘t seem to know your way around a vagina.”

That’s when Sebastian gave up being a pretend gynecologist and became a pretend podiatrist. He felt safer with the foot.

Not being a real doctor, Sebastian had no trouble with the transition. He just liked the ladies. And used whatever it took to get them.

Pick up lines? He had some doozies. One in particular was his favorite.

“Is this your hundred dollar bill? I found it on the floor.”

That was a costly one, but one of his most effective.

On Sebastian’s first night out as a pretend podiatrist, he found himself at the foot of the bed of one Mrs. Hermoine Ginsburg. Age: seventy.

Earlier in the evening, Sebastian had been indulging in a great many Brandy Alexander’s.

“Goes down like milk,” he said to the bartender.

“It is milk,” said the woman at the neighboring stool. “Don’t you even know what the hell it is your drinking?”

“I only know that I wanted something that sounded smart and sophisticated,” said Sebastian. “And Brandy Alexander sounded pretty smart.”

“That’s more than I can say for the drinker,” she said.

“Hey!” said Sebastian. ”I‘m a podiatrist! You have to be sort of smart to be one of those!”

“Keep your pants on, handsome,” Mrs. Ginsburg said. “At least for now.”

“Pardon me?” Sebastian said

“So,” she continued, placing her one good foot in his erect lap, “what can you tell me about this hairy growth between my big toe and her baby sister?”

It was at that moment that Sebastian had a life-changing revelation. The pungent odor of the bare foot. The cracked and yellowed toe-nails. The bulbous bunions of the senior citizen!

Sebastian was an aged-foot fetishist. And he found it intoxicating.

After placing Mrs. Ginsburg back in her wheelchair, Sebastian tipped the bartender and wheeled the old lady out into the night.

Back at her rooms at the seniors center Mrs. Ginsburg let out a groan.

“Ooh,” she moaned. “Rub harder.”

“Like this?” Sebastian said, working his thumb into the heel of her one good foot. He even worked his other thumb into the foot of her prosthetic leg. She said it had feelings, too.

“Yes!” Mrs. Ginsburg said. “Like-oh, Mother Macree, I think I just wet me bloomers!”

At that, Sebastian felt a power he’d never felt before. Women had always found him unsatisfying. Creepy even.

But this woman. She was different. He fulfilled a need in her. A need no man had fulfilled in years. Owing to the fact, statistically speaking, that her husband was dead first.

How many more Mrs. Ginsburg’s are out there? Sebastian wondered. I may have a new career here at the senior center.

Dr. Sebastian Ray: Foot Whisperer.

He liked the sound of that. He also liked the sound of Mrs. Ginsburg unzipping her change purse and handing him back his pick-up-line hundred dollar bill.

“Tomorrow then, Sebastian?” Mrs. Ginsburg said.

“Or should I say, Dr. Ray?”

“Tomorrow it is,” he said.

Dr. Ray stepped out into the brisk October night and realized he was still hanging onto Mrs. Ginsburg’s prosthetic leg.

He decided he’d bring it back tomorrow. Tonight he’ll just sleep on it.