Craig was crazy about feet, a real connoisseur. He swept buildings around town, a job he loved because it afforded him opportunities to look down at the floor, allowed him, in effect, a bird's-eye view of feet. His surreptitious glances went unnoticed. No one notices the guy who sweeps up. He was invisible. In his imagination he brushed the broom over naked feet dancing seductive circles around him. One afternoon he swept a theater in preparation for that night's fashion show. His mouth watered at the thought of all those moving feet. Perfectly formed feet, as only models have. Lust fuels ingenuity. He planted a Webcam at the back of the stage, on the floor, right where the backdrop came down. No one would notice it. The models would be preoccupied with their movements. The audience would be preoccupied with the models. That night he locked the door to his room, pulled the shades, powered up the camera and watched. In horror. He had overlooked one insignificant detail, which now made him scream "Nooooo!" into his mind's ear. The anonymous heads in the audience strangled his desire with their fixated stares. His erotic experience was thoroughly destroyed.

Story #104