Caroline chose a spot in the farthest corner of the bookstore, set the books on the table and unpacked her notebook. She opened it to a blank page with chewed fingers and picked at the ruffled remnants of her homework that stuck in the metal spiral. She needed to focus, her paper was due in three days and she still didn't have a thesis. She pulled out a pen and scratched a little circle in the upper corner of the page. It creased the paper, but didn't leave a mark. She exhaled and threw the pen back in her backpack and chose a pencil instead. She slid her thumbnail between the wood and the tip to expose more of the graphite, and then rubbed the mark left on her thumb pad in the margin. As she bent down to examine her finger print smeared on the page, she heard a muffled whisper drifting towards her from behind the shelves lined with glossy physics books.

"Look at those feet baby." It was a male voice mid-range and breathy, slightly above a whisper. "Ooooooh bring 'em here and let daddy suck those little pink sausages. I wanna suck 'em 'till kingdoms comes...." Caroline blushed and giggled, trying to stifle the sound of her breath with her hand. Why didn't Robert ever talk to her like that in bookstores? She tried to imagine Robert saying "little pink sausages" and almost choked.

"Must be new love," she muttered, shaking her head and pretending to write, not wanting the couple to notice that she was eavesdropping. She sucked in her breath as the voice continued.

"This widdle piggy went to market and this widdle piggy got sucked..." Caroline closed her eyes and tried to put Robert's face on the voice. Robert with his pale complexion and immobile black hair. Robert dropping to his knees and sniffing at her feet, tugging at the little hairs on her knuckles with his immaculately flossed teeth. She snorted again and wiped at the spit that sprayed across the notebook paper with her elbow. How would she react if Robert looked up at her and said with his very serious expression, what was that man was saying? "This widdle piggy got roast beef and this widdle piggy got fucked." What was this girl doing? Was she embarrassed? Caroline turned her head slowly and wiped her chin on her shoulder, trying to see if she could get a glimpse of the couple. The voice stopped.

"Shit" she thought, "I was too obvious...though maybe it's for the best..." she shrugged and looked back down at her notebook. She'd so far only written "toes" at the top of her page and she didn't think that it would be very helpful for her paper. She rubbed her temples in slow circular motions and the voice began to drift back into earshot.

"Masturbate me with your feet baby, yeah. Slip out of those black sandals and spread those toes wide." Caroline bit her lip and snickered, letting the pencil drop from her fingers. It rolled off the notebook and plunked to the floor. "Yeah, unbuckle your shoes let daddy bite your ankles." She shook her head and reached down to pick up her pencil. Her own black sandals caught her eye. She touched the buckle and paused, "that's right baby, nice and easy, unbuckle your shoes, just like that..." Caroline snapped her hand away from her shoe and shot strait up, whipping her head around. She saw the shadow of a figure slip back behind the racks. Her eye began to twitch and jump.

"He can't be talking to me," she thought, looking down at her unpedicured toenails peeking out from behind the straps of her shoes. She pressed her knuckles into her eye to make it stop fluttering, and saw a kaleidoscope of colors behind her lid. "This is not happening," she muttered.

"Toes....." came the voice behind the stacks. Caroline stood up and began stuffing her notebook and papers back into her backpack. "Toes..." said the voice again, rising in pitch. Her backpack flopped to its side, its contents spilling across the table and onto the floor. "Not again," she thought. "Not now."

"Toes....toes...." the voice grew louder. Caroline swept the batteries, pens, wallet, keys and receipts back into the front pocket, and got up to chase her change rolling across the linoleum floor. "Toes, toes, toes, toes..." a couple of quarters smacked into a pair of white sneakers. She scanned upwards and stood face to face with a small thin man in his early fifties. His thinning hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, barely covering the bald spot gleaming under the florescent lights. "Toes. Toes. Toes. Toes. Toes," he moaned, licking at his thin lips protruded beneath a graying beard. His eyes were closed, and he was leaning against a shelf labeled "string theory." His hand pumped up and down along a crooked glistening tipped penis that poked from the fly of his faded jeans.

"Gross!" Caroline shrieked and scrunched up her nose. The man popped his eyes open and stopped moving. They stared at each other. Caroline began to laugh. She shook her head. The man took a step backwards and shrunk into himself, zipping up his fly. He looked down at the floor and backed up with small quick steps until he reached the end of the aisle, then turned and scurried away. Caroline watched him go. Her mouth open, both eyes twitching.

Caroline threw open the door to her apartment, dumped her book bag by the door and skidded down the hall. She found Robert in their bedroom sitting cross-legged on the bed with a book in his lap.

"Oh my god, Robert," she began. "You'll never guess what just happened at the bookstore." Robert made a shushing sound and held up one finger. He didn't look up; his gaze remained focused on the book in front of him. He turned his wrist and pointed to the white linen handkerchief on his head. Caroline rolled her eyes, went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

* * * * *

When they first moved in together, Robert suggested the hanky as a signal not to be disturbed at the end of a book. At first Caroline thought this was a great idea, but recently Robert had been spending more and more time beneath the handkerchief, wearing it while he did crossword puzzles, read the newspaper, ate breakfast and once even during sex, though he claims that he just forgot to take it off after he finished the last chapter.

* * * * *

Caroline turned on the spigot and squeezed a bottle of bath gel into the water, watching it expand into a foamy mound. "Damn it," she sniffed, "fucking lavender." She stepped into the tub, the hot water painting her skin pink. White bubbles stuck to her knees and elbows. She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, letting her hair fall into the water and float on the surface of the water like kelp. She pulled her head up looked at her feet, wiggling her toes and wiping at the condensation on the tile. Her head jerked as the door swung open and Robert walked in.

"Sorry Caroline," he said. "I've got to piss." He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his tweed pants and stood with his legs slightly spread in front of the toilet. Robert was the only guy Caroline knew who could pull off tweed. His stuffy bookishness was one of the things that she found attractive when they first met. His urine hit the water with a loud splash. It smelled metallic and strong. He'd probably been drinking coffee all day. "What did you want to tell me?" Robert asked, mid-stream.

"Nothing. Never mind." she said. "It's not important. How's your book?" She pulled her arm out of the water and cupped her chin in her hand.

"Oh...great," he looked over his shoulder at her and smiled, then turned back to the toilet, shook himself off and re-buttoned his pants. Caroline watched him and bit her lip. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

"Have you ever sucked anyone's toes?" She asked, tilting her head slightly. Robert looked at her and laughed. "What? Where did that come from? No."

"Well, what do you think about my feet?" She curled her toes against the cold tile and winked.

"What?" Robert flushed the toilet and closed the lid. "They're feet."

"I know, but how do they make you feel?" Caroline pressed. "What do you think of them?" She lifted her foot out of the tub. Water slid down her leg.

"I don't think about them Caroline," Robert said. "Feet are feet. That's all. What's with the sudden foot fetish?"

"Never mind, she said, inhaling and sliding beneath the bubbles. Only her knees remained above water. She opened her eyes and could see Robert standing above her. His figure looked magnified and distorted. She came up for air. "Do you mind if I finish my bath now?" Robert turned on the faucet and pumped soap into his hand. She watched his face reflected in the mirror. He jutted out his jaw and wiggled his ears.

"Are you mad at me for some reason Caroline?" he asked, turning off the faucet and wiping his hands on the only towel in the room. She met his eyes through the mirror.

"No," she said. "Will you please leave the bathroom now?" She looked down and picked at her cuticles.

"About this foot thing?" Robert asked. "I don't get it." He scratched his head .

"I'm not fucking mad at you Robert!" Caroline slapped her hands down on the surface of the water, splattering lavender scented droplets onto the floor.

"Look," he said, taking the towel and squatting down to wipe up the water on the floor. "I'm sorry that I've never considered your feet before." He stood up and hung the towel back on its hook. "I'm sure they're quite lovely."

"Robert!" Caroline yelled, sitting straight up in the bathtub, splashing more water onto the floor. "Please," she forced a laugh, "Get the fuck out of the bathroom and let me take my fucking bath! Go read a book or something!"

"Are you premenstrual?" Robert asked. Caroline raised her eyebrows and pointed to the door.

* * * * *

Robert was in the kitchen cooking dinner by the time Caroline came out of the bathroom. She'd refilled the tub twice. She could smell capers and mushrooms. "Hey Robert," she yelled down the hallway. "Where do you keep your nail scissors?"

"In the top drawer of my nightstand," Robert shouted back over the clatter of pans. Caroline shuffled over to the nightstand and sat down on Robert's side of the bed. She opened the drawer and pulled out the nail clippers by their silver-balled chain. The white linen hanky caught her eye and picked it up and put it on her head. Clippers in hand she went to the mirror and shushed herself, raising one finger, then turning her wrist to point out the hanky. She giggled and slid down to the floor.

"Dinner will be ready in ten!" Robert called from down the hall.

Caroline didn't answer. She pulled the handkerchief from her head and smoothed it out on the floor, centering her foot on the coarse fabric. Big toe in hand, she slid her thick nail between the curved metal blades of the clippers and squeezed until she felt a snap.