But, as much as she yearned for more, there was almost none waiting for her. While she was lost in her reverie, the man removed his leg, presumably setting his foot back down on the floor. His face loomed far in the distance; his eyes were still focused on the movie screen. Valerie felt color rushing to her cheeks; the sight of that face reminded her that, after all, the ambrosia that she had just tasted belonged to a human being. A real person... and would this real person be at all happy to see a bug like her, prostrated with her lips plunged into the pool of his sweat? As much as she wanted to believe that he would only be happy to see someone so devoted to him, so in love, the more practical part of her mind told her that he probably wouldn't. He'd call her gross, repulsive, creepy...

But the popcorn...

Was the popcorn even intentional? Was it a joke? She was so silly; he probably didn't even notice she ate it.

But she did. And, oh god, did that popcorn start her on a journey. Her stomach lurched as it tried to deal with the abundance of mushed junk food flavored with an excess of tangy footsweat. Valerie crawled a bit forward to the exact spot where the giant's heel had been resting. She lowered her face to the lacquered wood again and licked the surface. Almost nothing, just a very faint trace of his scent. It must have so happened that the pool she consumed formed as a result of his foot moving back and forth... In any case, there was nothing else for her here.

The girl groaned. She did want more, though. She hungered for it. She glanced at the man's face again; still no sign that he even noticed her. Good. It would almost feel wrong to be noticed. It would feel wrong if he paid any attention at all. After spending some time at his feet and gulping down his sweat Valerie didn't really feel like she was worthy of his attention. Beneath his notice, licking that salty, bitter, musky nectar off his soles... yes. Yes!

She cautiously crawled to the very edge of the armrest and peered down, into the darkness. The aisle floor was very far... an equivalent of a tall building. She could see his legs, two pale pillars, stretching into the space under the seat in front of him. She thought she could make out his shoes. Wait, shoes?

He'd just come to the theater wearing those, she realized. He walked in them... perhaps just for a bit, but more likely a while, maybe a mile, maybe a couple of miles, and when he pulled his feet out of them, his feet were glistening with sweat. That meant... that meant that the shoes are probably soaked on the inside - to the point where the insole is moist to the touch; oh and what if there are also socks? Her heart started racing as she felt almost drunk just thinking of the possibilities; she knew in that instant that she wanted to go down there, to steam next to, or inside his footwear, to really get down and dirty and dive headfirst into this new passion of hers. Embrace the self-degradation, let his sweat permeate her, let his feet take her, truly become a tiny bug at his godlike, beautiful soles. Give him the respect he truly deserves from someone like her - someone tiny, insignificant, useless and weak.

The floor. The floor is where she belonged, the floor was there she'd find more sweat, the floor is where she'd be hidden from his eyes, the floor was where she had to go. It was time to decide if she had the guts to go further.

She licked her lips; they felt irritated, no doubt from the sweat. She clenched her fingers. She dared to look up at him once again. No change there. Shadows danced across his face as the scenes on the movie screen changed one after another. Maybe... maybe he knew, and maybe he expected her to do it. Or maybe it was a test. He gave her a taste, now he wanted to see how far she'd go. How willingly would she let herself be stripped of any remaining dignity...

Was that a smile on his lips? She couldn't tell for sure. It was fleeting.

If I don't do it... what if he leaves? What if I never see him again?

This thought sent panic through her tiny body. She shook where she sat, suddenly facing a terrible prospect. Indeed, if he left... she'd never taste it again. Would she even be able to find the same sweet, musk-filled subspace? Would she ever relive anything like this? Would she ever be able to mindlessly slurp the sweat of a superior being? Of course, there were her roommates, but they were women... and Val was hopelessly straight... and there was a strong sexual component to the whole thing. She felt like she belonged with the filth on the sole of a man, not another woman. She wanted to breathe in manly musk, lap up a man's sweat, appreciate a man's visage.

I can't lose this, she thought. She needed more. More! And she, herself, had more to give!

So she gathered herself, braced, took a deep breath, and jumped over the edge of the armrest.