You were in the bleachers, waiting for Amanda to finish her basketball game. She said that you both had to finish tomorrow, but you had to wait until her game was over.

You had gotten more embarrassed over time about how she treated you like a henpecked husband, but you decided not to make a big deal about it. Maybe you could get a date with her, you reasoned. She was one of the best on the court, though she was visibly sweating. You looked at her worn gym shoes as she played. You shuddered to think what her feet were like now.

At half time, Amanda's team was 10 points up, but exhausted. Suprisingly, Amanda walked to the bleachers and beckoned for you to come down. You climbed down towards her. When you were closer, you realized she was sweatier than she looked. She was rank.

You had no idea what was coming, but what she said made no sense at all. "We're done with that project."

You frowned. "What? You said we weren't done."
Amanda shook her head. "Nah, I finished. But I have something for you to do, and you're going to do it, if you don't want a failing grade on our project."

You were confused and angry. "What the hell? I can't fail, I worked on it!"
"Oh please, what did you do? I did all the writing, and that's what the teacher will see. What are you gonna say, that you rubbed my feet while I worked?"
You were steaming. "You bitch! You MADE me rub your putrid feet!"
She laughed, still panting from the game. "Oh, you'll admit they stink now? It was funny watching you suffer through it last night. Anyway, I don't think the teacher will believe anything like that, so you'd better suck it up and do as I say.

You took several deep breaths. You hated her for tricking you, and for making you rub her feet in the process, but you couldn't get a failing grade. "Fine. You win. What do you want?"

Amanda grinned.