The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Toesuckers!”

The word was splashed in garish red paint across an illuminated sign, obscuring the picture of a young woman’s smile. It surprised Jolene a little as she made her careful way down the steps to the trains. Since the Underground had been privatized, graffiti had nearly disappeared. The new owners’ devotion to cleanliness bordered on the fanatical.

Walking still required some concentration in her funky new sandals. Jolene didn’t mind. The sandals were designed for looks, not speed. She passed through the turnstiles, flashing her transit pass, and a friendly smile, at the attendant there. He barely looked at her pass, choosing instead to inspect her legs with interest. Jolene didn’t mind that either.

Jolene’s saucy miniskirt flashed a good length of shapely thighs. The look was a tad over for work perhaps, especially with the high platform sandals. The little blonde had always enjoyed dressing with flare. Lately she had been dressing more daringly than usual. She had turned quite a few heads just walking from the office to the station.

She liked that.

She savoured a warm glow from the attention of the attendant as she tottered toward the train platform. She watched her legs as she walked, admiring the way her fishnet stockings displayed her fetching feet. Her toenails were neatly trimmed, and painted dark red.

She had overlooked her feet for so long. Jolene had always considered herself a sexy and attractive young woman. She certainly epitomized the phrase “a well-turned ankle”. Yet she had never considered the attractiveness of her feet. They were cute, she decided, and deserved to be shown off.

Over the past few weeks she had taken to wearing open-toed shoes, then clogs, then sandals. The sandals, in turn, rapidly acquired leg-shaping heels and bold platforms with each impulsive visit to the shoe store. The office wouldn’t permit bare legs. Jolene had taken to wearing the sheerest tights or fishnets so nothing would obscure the view of her toes. It felt almost exhibitionist sometimes, to be sitting at her desk in a thigh-riding mini, while her teasing toes played peek-a-boo under the desk with everyone who came by. She noticed too, that sometimes the girls were distracted by her toe-rings as much as the guys were.

At length Jolene’s garish platforms brought her to the platform. It was late, well past normal office closing time. The press of rush hour was over. Jolene deliberately staggered her work hours to avoid the crowds. There were half a dozen other people waiting for the train, mostly tardy office workers like her. One of the two women was wearing shiny black pants while the other sported an abbreviated skirt-suit. Both women were elevated inches above the ground by high-heeled, platform sandals of transparent acrylic. The vamps of the plastic sandals were so clear it looked like the heels were held on by nothing.

Transparent platforms were a rage in the city at the moment. It was one of those outrageous fashion fads that seemed to catch the popular imagination. A lot of girls in the office were wearing them. They were a great way to show off a prime pair of feminine feet, even if they did make walking a challenge. Jolene had a couple of pairs herself. She preferred the wood-look ones she was wearing, with the enormous solid soles made lighter by big cut-outs in the middle. It was her own little rebellion against fashion.

One of the woman was wearing sandals with no back and just a clear plastic strap across the toes, more of a slide than a sandal. She was idly sliding one foot in and out of her shoe as she waited. She had a faint smile on her face.

On the wall behind her was another illuminated sign, like the one that had been decorated by the graffiti artist upstairs. It showed a pretty woman, smiling in front of an eye-catching pattern of concentric red and white circles. Underneath was the logo of the transit company: “N-Train—Enjoy the ride”.

Jolene wondered sometimes about the model the company had chosen for their advertising. She was classically beautiful, of course. She had a faraway, dreamy look on her face, like she was mildly stoned. The woman toying with her high-heeled slide bore much the same expression. Jolene adjusted the heavy purse over her shoulder. She shot a shy glance at a businessman nearby who was checking out her legs.

Eventually the train arrived, rushing into the station in a gust of sound and wind. Jolene’s light skirt flew up around her hips for a moment, baring her garter straps. The businessman’s eyes widened, as did his smile. The train had been repainted with red and white stripes, the company colours of the new owners.

The doors slid open. Jolene entered along with the rest. The train was not very full this late in the day. She found a seat and settled down. It was a long ride to her stop. She heaved her purse into her lap as the train accelerated away from the station.

There were no more than a dozen people in the car. Some were reading or listening to portable CD players, many dozing. Down near the next set of doors a young couple were defiantly making out, obviously getting a kick out of making a public scene. The girl wore blue jeans, tight around her ass and hips, and soft-looking summer sandals with thick velvet soles. The recent trend toward sexy, foot-baring shoes had not diminished with the advance of autumn.

In a seat nearby, a young woman in a designer suit was nodding over a serious-looking journal. Her office pumps were on the seat beside her. For walking home she had exchanged them for a pair of flimsy pink flip-flops with yellow flowers on the toe straps. Another woman cradling a bag of groceries was sleeping soundly, her book forgotten. She had slipped off her tan clogs and set her feet on top of them. Her toenails were lemon yellow.

Jolene listened to the lulling clickity-clack of the train, mixed with the sound of soft music drifting out of the overhead speakers. Another innovation of the new owners. For all the controversy about the take-over, it could not be denied that N-Train was doing a good job. Jolene yawned and felt the books poking through her bag. She liked to use this time to study. Working by day and taking courses by night demanded efficient use of her time.

The man across the way folded his newspaper. He glanced appreciatively at Jolene’s legs. His eyes lingered on her painted toes. Jolene felt herself tingle. She loved that reaction. The back page of the man’s newspaper carried a small headline: “N-train investigation fizzles.”

There had been an uproar when the Lord Mayor first suggested privatizing the Underground. There seemed to be no need for it. The Mayor insisted it would cut costs, a favourite theme of his administration. Things got worse when it was revealed that the company chosen to take over the system, the oddly named N-Train Inc., had no previous experience in mass transit and indeed had only been registered for a year. The president, one Hugh Mussobay, had shadowy stories following him, something to do with embedding subliminal messages in a movie to get women to sleep with him.

All these rumours had fed a great scandal. The tabloids loved it. The Mayor stubbornly insisted that the deal would go through. Eventually, enough opposition mounted that he had to call an inquiry to clear the air.

Oddly, things had quieted down once N-train took over. Maybe the smooth running of the transit system convinced the critics. Whatever the reason, nobody complained about N-Train any more. Jolene looked up from the newspaper to the advertising space above the windows. Another picture of the happy woman there, with the ever-present slogan. “N-Train: Enjoy the Ride”.

Jolene yawned again. The trouble was she was enjoying the ride too much. She had been falling asleep on the train every night instead of working. She didn’t want to be a paralegal forever. If she aspired to something greater, she would have to hit those books.

Lately though, she had found herself having second thoughts. Did she really want to work and worry all day over heavy cases and heavy problems like the lawyers in the office? Even Bev, Jolene’s boss, who was relatively junior, seemed to always be on the go. She was going a lot slower these days, to be sure, since she had decided to forgo pumps in favour of flimsy little sandals and candy-coloured flip-flops. She would kick them off whenever she entered her office and spend the day working in stocking feet. Once Jolene had to remind her to put shoes on for court.

Did she really want that life, Jolene wondered? It seemed so much work. So serious. She would rather have fun. She would rather party.

She yawned yet again. She was tired because she was working too hard. She should take more time off. The books could wait. She folded her head down over her purse and closed her eyes. A faint, distant smile blossomed on her face.

The train chatted on along the dark tunnel as Jolene slept. Soft, relaxing music poured out of the speakers. The girl making out by the doors moaned gently as her lover touched her inside her shirt. Up on the wall, the perpetually cheerful, slightly spacey woman beamed down on the passengers, in front of a soothing pattern of red and white rings. Below her, in red letters, was the logo that everybody knew.

N-Train: Enjoy the Ride.