"No, you don't have to do that." You power through the stockings, massaging each toe thoroughly, causing your normally strict and forbidding teacher to sigh in pleasure. You then hold both of her feet together, and massage both of them at once. Your teacher gives you a grateful smile and closes her eyes, relaxed.

Your heart beating, you raise her feet a bit higher. You then lean you head forward, to about six inches away from her feet, drinking in the sweaty aroma of her feet. You could imagine how it all accumulated, working in pumps, dealing with difficult students. The stockings collected the fruit of her labor, and you wanted nothing more than to enjoy it. Still, you were self aware, and you watched her eyes closely, ready to quickly lean your head back at the first sign of her opening her eyes.

Suddenly, you feel a loud crack below you. Helena's eyes shoot open, but thankfully you are able to move your head back before she noticed how close you were to her feet. You had realized immediately that it was your chair, and you regretfully put down your teachers stockinged feet and got up.

The chair was half broken, and it was clear if you sat in it again it would just fall apart. Helena glared at it in annoyance. "Well, that's chair's garbage now. I'll have to ask for a new one. Of course, I'm not blaming you, hun."

She looked around the room, and a realization struck her. "Oh no!" She lamented. "There are no other normal chairs, I guess that's the end of my massage."

You saw what she meant. The broken chair was the only one in the classroom without a desk attached to it. The other chairs would not be able to fit in the corner of the room next to Helena's desk, and because you had nowhere to sit, in Helena's mind, that was the end of the massage. You quickly hatched a plan to not only allow you to keep rubbing your teachers feet, but get even closer to them.

"Ms. Bertenelli, I could just sit on the floor."
Your teacher shook her head and laughed. "Oh no, dear. You are the sweetest thing, but that's just too much."
You persist "No ma'am, it's really no problem. I usually sit on the floor at my house anyways."
She is staring at you now, her mouth slightly agape, looking amused and a bit bewildered. "But, I mean...so it wouldn't embarrass you at all to sit on the floor and rub my feet? Most kids would rather have a months detention!

You sweat a little. Maybe you went too far.