Jeanne lounged by the glistening pool, the Spanish sun warming her skin with a gentle embrace. The hotel's lush gardens whispered with the rustle of leaves, and the air was alive with the scent of jasmine. Her day was a simple yet luxurious affair: a cold drink with a plate of olives, bread and cheese. It was the kind of indulgence that only a vacation in Spain could offer.

Roberto, the pool assistant, had been attentive all day, ensuring guests had everything they needed with a courteous smile. He approached Jeanne, asking if there was anything he could do for her. On a sudden whim, perhaps inspired by the carefree atmosphere or the alcohol, Jeanne asked, "Could you paint my toenails?"

Roberto blinked, surprised but quickly composed himself. "Of course, señora," he replied, his tone professional yet accommodating. He disappeared briefly and returned with a small bottle of bright red nail polish and a cotton swab, kneeling beside her with a small towel under her feet.

The care he took was meticulous. Roberto's hands were steady, his touch light but confident. He started with the cotton swab, carefully cleaning each toenail, ensuring no dust or oil would spoil the paint job. Then, with a reverence usually reserved for artisans, he began to apply the polish. Each stroke was deliberate, the brush moving with precision, painting perfect lines of vibrant red.

Jeanne watched, almost mesmerized by his focus. Roberto's concentration was palpable, his brow slightly furrowed in dedication. He blew gently on each toenail to help the polish dry, his breath warm against her skin, adding an intimate touch to the act.

When he finished, he sat back on his heels, admiring his work. "Finished," he announced, his voice carrying a note of pride.

Jeanne admired her toes, the red gleaming in the sunlight, a perfect match to her mood. "Thank you, Roberto. They look stunning."

He stood up, and as he did, Jeanne couldn't help but notice the evident bulge in his white shorts. The fabric did little to hide his body's reaction to the close, albeit innocent, contact. Roberto, realizing her gaze, flushed a deep red, his professional demeanor slipping for a moment into embarrassment.

"I apologize, señora," he muttered, quickly adjusting his shorts and stepping back, his eyes downward.

Jeanne found herself chuckling, not out of mockery but a shared, human moment. "It's alright, totally natural. Thank you for your help," she said, her tone light, easing the tension. “Perhaps later you could stop by my room and rub some lotion on my legs? I’m afraid I’ve got a bit burnt today.”

Roberto nodded, still a bit flustered, and excused himself to continue his duties, leaving Jeanne by the poolside, her toes a beacon of bright red against the azure tiles. She smiled to herself, sipping her drink and reminding herself to get some lotion.

Jeanne returned to her hotel room, her skin warm and her mind pleasantly fatigued. The room was cool, a welcome contrast to the heat outside. She showered quickly, letting the water invigorate her senses before slipping into the hotel's plush, white robe. The fabric was soft against her skin, and she felt a sense of luxury envelop her as she settled onto the bed with a copy of "Shadow of Night" by Deborah Harkness.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of voices in the hallway. Jeanne was just beginning to delve into the historical witchcraft when a gentle knock interrupted her reading. She marked her page and got up, curious about who could be visiting at this hour.

Opening the door, she was met with Roberto's smile. He stood there, transformed from the poolside assistant to a vision of casual elegance. His grey sweats hugged his lean legs, and the white linen shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a glimpse of his well-defined chest, spoke of a man comfortable in his own skin. His dark hair was neatly styled, contrasting with the laid-back attire, and his eyes sparkled with a friendly warmth.

"Jeanne, I hope I'm not intruding," Roberto started, his voice smooth with a hint of a Spanish accent. "Sorry it’s so late, did you still need lotion?”

Jeanne smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Come in, Roberto, that's very kind of you." She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. The room seemed to brighten with his presence.

Closing the door behind him, she gave him a warm hug. "How thoughtful of you to remember," she said as they parted.

Roberto took the lotion from the bedside table. "After spending so much time in the sun, your skin needs care," he explained.

Jeanne sat on the edge of the bed, extending her legs. Roberto knelt before her, taking a moment to pour some lotion into his hands, warming it between his palms before he started. The lotion was cool against her skin, a contrast to the heat of the day. His touch was gentle, his hands moving with a soothing rhythm up her calves, kneading lightly, ensuring the lotion was absorbed. She noticed him glancing at her feet more than a few times. “Do you like my feet?” She asked while wiggling her toes.

“Very much. They are beautiful. Something to be worshiped and admired.” Once again Jeanne noticed a growing bulge in his pants.

“You may…worship them that is.” Jeanne laid back on the bed with a sigh.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Roberto lifted her right foot, cradling it in his hands as if it were a fragile piece of art. His fingers traced the arch with a light touch, causing a slight shiver to run through her. His eyes met hers, seeking permission, and she gave him a small, encouraging nod.

He began by kissing the top of her foot, his lips pressing gentle, reverent kisses along the instep. Each kiss was a whispered poem, a physical sonnet of his admiration. The room seemed to hold its breath, the music blending with the soft sounds of his affection.

Then, with a tender boldness, he moved to her toes. He took her big toe into his mouth, the warmth of his breath contrasting with the cool air of the room. It was an act of worship, a way to show devotion that transcended the usual expressions of love. The sensation was unexpected for her, a mix of ticklishness and an oddly profound connection. Jeanne felt a flush of warmth spread from her toes, up through her body, her composure momentarily faltering in a soft gasp.

Roberto’s eyes closed as he savored the moment, his tongue gently swirling around the toe, tasting the subtle flavor of the vanilla-scented oil she had applied earlier. It was not just physical; for him, it was a sensory exploration, an artist's immersion into the texture, taste, and feel of his subject.

Jeanne watched him with a mixture of amusement and deep affection. This act, so intimate and unusual, was an unspoken dialogue of mutual respect and love. Her fingers played with the end of her hair, a nervous habit that betrayed her calm exterior.

As Roberto continued, the room seemed to shrink around them, encapsulating them in a bubble where time slowed down. Every movement was deliberate, every sensation heightened. When he finally released her toe, he looked up at her with a smile that spoke volumes of his feelings without a word.

He stood, shrugging his shirt off to reveal his toned body. He slowly removed his sweats to reveal his hard cock, engorged with the excitement of their activity.

With a practiced hand, he squeezed a generous amount of the creamy lotion onto the bottom of Jeanne's left foot, his touch immediately following to spread the lotion smoothly over her skin. His fingers worked with a gentle massage, kneading the soles with just the right pressure, eliciting soft sighs of contentment from Jeanne.

Switching to her right foot, he repeated the process, his movements rhythmic and soothing. Jeanne, feeling the cool lotion and the warmth of his hands, lifted her legs slightly, her feet coming to rest on either side of Roberto's waist. The positioning was playful, suggestive, and it brought a mischievous sparkle to both their eyes.

As Jeanne adjusted her legs, her feet now framed his cock, the intimate contact sending a thrill through both of them. Roberto's hips began to rock gently back and forth, sliding himself between the lotion-slick soles of her feet. The sensation was unique, the lotion providing a smooth glide, her feet warm and yielding against his sensitive skin.

Their laughter mingled with the soft sounds of skin against skin, the room filled with the light-heartedness of their play. Jeanne's toes flexed and relaxed, adjusting to the rhythm set by Roberto's movements, each slide sending a wave of pleasurable friction that was both teasing and deeply intimate.

Roberto's eyes met Jeanne's, a silent communication passing between them, filled with affection, desire, and a touch of humor at the novelty of their interaction. It was a blend of the sensual and the playful, a moment where their physical connection was expressed in an unconventional way.

As they continued their movements became more synchronized, a dance finding rhythm in the simplest of acts. The lotion, initially cool, had warmed with their body heat, enhancing the sensation, making each glide more intense. Eventually, their playfulness transitioned into a quieter, more intense connection, Roberto's hands coming to rest on Jeanne's ankles, guiding her movements with a gentle firmness. The moment was a private dance of touch and desire.

When they finally paused, catching their breath, Jeanne lowered her legs, sliding them down Roberto's thighs until her feet rested once again on the bed. Roberto grabbed his cock and stroked while gazing at Jeanne prone before her. In his moment of orgasm Jeanne lifted her foot, allowing him to cum on her toes. He grabbed a towel and slowly wiped her foot clean. He quickly got dressed and left the room without a word.

Jeanne closed her eyes, frustrated at his quick departure and lack of attention to her arousal. Her hands began to wander, tracing paths known only to her. Her mind replayed the sensation of Roberto's cock between her feet, the slickness, the rhythm, and the power she felt in giving him pleasure. Her breath quickened as she imagined him there with her, not just in the fleeting touch of her feet, but fully, overpoweringly present. The fantasy of him fucking her now, in the throes of this solitude, pushed her over the edge. Within minutes her own touch brought her to a climax, a solitary release that was both satisfying and tinged with the desire for Roberto's presence, leaving her in a state of blissful yet incomplete satisfaction.