A suspicious woman creeps around a house in an affluent neighbourhood on the outskirts of town. She's dressed in a black sweater, tight jeans and converse sneakers. For all the world, she looks like an average neighbour but she is in fact a burglar. According to several members of the community, this particular couple has a sizeable art collection including a vault with jewels more rare and valuable than any this side of the Atlantic. The trick is to find the key and she's intent on it.

She's busy peering into drawers and thoroughly investigating the kitchen when she hears a sound ...

A suspicious woman creeps around a house in an affluent neighbourhood on the outskirts of town. She's dressed in a black sweater, tight jeans and converse sneakers. For all the world, she looks like an average neighbour but she is in fact a burglar. According to several members of the community, this particular couple has a sizeable art collection including a vault with jewels more rare and valuable than any this side of the Atlantic. The trick is to find the key and she's intent on it.

She's busy peering into drawers and thoroughly investigating the kitchen when she hears a sound from the front of the house. She's alarmed at first but immediately formulates a plan in her head and hides herself behind a wall in the back door entryway. She might sneak out while she's at it or she might stick around, depending on how things go. The woman is good-looking in her late twenties early thirties. She's tan and toned. Clearly she works out. In a black tank top, black leggings and pointed booties, she's effortlessly sophisticated. She sets her cloth bag down and goes to make herself a cup of tea but seems to forget something in the back and retraces her steps. The burglar takes this as her opportunity to strike and out she comes from her hiding place, pressing a white rag up to the woman's face and holding it firmly in place until all the fight goes out of her, her eyes rolling and limbs going weak. She carries out a couple of drops to ensure that it worked.

Satisfied that the homeowner is at rest, she goes about her business once more. She's easily distracted, though. She casts a glance back at the napping damsel and finds herself wondering how her socks must smell. She hunkers down next to her and runs a hand down her thighs, over her calves and finally over her leather boots, caressing them fondly. Hooking her arms under her armpits, she drags her out of the room and onto the couch. Right there and then, she unzips her boots and massages her socked feet. She sniffs and rubs her foot down. One by one, she takes them and inhales as deep as she can, breathing in her essence. She's completely entranced. She presses the cotton into her face and takes in sweat and the vaguest hint of fabric softener. Her eyes roll back in her head as she holds up both feet at once and buries her nose into them, utterly turned on and lost in the moment.

Unsatisfied with this, she throws her over her shoulder and carries her upstairs. Her limps arms flops as she ascends the staircase. In the master bedroom, she tosses her down and begins to worships her further. while she's mid-worship, the woman's husband enters the house noiselessly, intent on surprising her. He waltzes up to the door and gently pushes it open. The sight he's greeted with completely astounds him. He doesn't know what emotion he should feel. Should he be petrified, angry, aroused? Who is this woman? Should he stand there watching? And why is his wife reclined on the bed making no sound whatsoever?

His mind flashes back to an image of a brown bottle he spied on the coffee table. It didn't look familiar to him at the time but now he realises how the stranger managed to knocked his wife out. He fetches it for himself and very quietly enters the bedroom, uses it on her and arranges it on the bed next to his woman. If anyone is going to worship his wife's socked feet, it'll be him - and this hot stranger while he's at it!