By the late afternoon, she was getting exhausted. Eliot decided to go to his living room, where he plopped onto the couch and picked up a controller. She followed. There was a rug in front of the couch, and she had to carefully wade through the fibers. As she got closer to him, she took a couple more pics of his now relaxed soles. Then, tired and feeling rather accomplished, she dropped on the ground in front of him. His eyes were glued to the screen a second ago, but then he glanced down.

“There you are”, he noted coldly.
Alice blushed. It felt surreal to be addressed by him now. She found it difficult to even look up so instead she averted her gaze towards the sole of his foot.
She suddenly thought she just got a glimpse into his ex-girlfriend’s mind. She spent all her time on his floor… crawling, skittering around to the sound of the thunderous slaps of his soles. Alice wondered what did that girl do to try and show her affection was still there.
She decided to ask. Her voice was trembling a bit and she started her inquiry with a “sorry”. He sighed.
“She worshipped me”, he said, his expression somewhat distant. “She’d go on her knees, and call me Sir, and throw herself at my feet, kissing and licking like her life depended on it.”
“Did it?”, Alice asked.
“Yes”, Eliot shrugged. She sensed threat in his voice. His toes flexed nearby. “In the end, she wasn’t good enough”.
Alice gulped.
“Sir”, she asked, “will you unshrink me now?”

There was no reaction - not then, not five minutes later, and then Alice went on her knees, crawled forward and leaned into his sole to nervously drag her tongue across salty flesh. Above her, the man smiled and gloated to himself as he continued playing. His other foot was tapping playfully against the floor. He liked this one more than the last one already. He imagined blowing a load onto the tiny photographer later that day and, with a glint in his eye, went on to complete his winning streak.