Nana's stockings

At this moment, a white mist began to spread through the night. Fortunately, the city's streetlights and neon lights tirelessly turned night into day, preventing the mist from immediately obscuring the road signs in Niu Naifu's sight.
He glanced at his watch: 2:41. At this time, all possibilities were quickly compressed into one—going home. He
opened the door. A nightlight was still on in the living room, and the green light on the water dispenser was still lit. His pajamas were draped over the back of the sofa. This was his wife's habit over the years; she was afraid her husband, who often came home drunk in the middle of the night, would stumble and fall in the dark living room. She also knew that he liked to use hot tea to warm his stomach and sober up. Niu Naifu smelled the rich fragrance of lavender and the delicate scent of lilies in the house, feeling an indescribable warmth in the scene before him.
In truth, after many moments of lucidity, he would fall into a strange emptiness, filled with complex guilt. But when he was once again numbed by alcohol, or saw women, especially mature women, in chaotic situations—whether their smiles were elegant, alluring, or wanton—the restlessness within him would burrow into the cracks of his reason like a worm, frantically replicating and spreading the vile programs deep within his darkness, preventing him from operating normally.
Niu Naifu tiptoed into the bedroom. His wife's breathing was soft and gentle, the dim light of the foot lamp quietly illuminating a warm, comforting scent, making him want to get closer to her soft body. He then turned and gently pushed open his son's door, slowly turning on the light. His son, fast asleep, had a slight smile on his chubby face, seemingly having a beautiful dream. He wanted to touch his son's face, but his son suddenly mumbled something and turned over. Niu Naifu quickly turned off the light and quietly withdrew.
Under the spray of hot water, Niu Naifu seemed to hear the blood flowing smoothly through his veins, and the throbbing pain in his head seemed to evaporate with the steam. After washing himself as clean as possible, he went into his study, turned on the exhaust fan, and took out pillows and blankets from the bookcase. This was a habit he had maintained for many years; if he came home late drunk, he wouldn't bother his wife, because she needed to get up early to make breakfast for their son and take him to school, and Niu Naifu didn't want his son to smell the stench of alcohol in the house.
A wave of hunger, accompanied by the burning sensation of churning stomach acid, mercilessly dispelled Niu Naifu's deep sleep. He opened his eyes with some difficulty; even the light blocked by the mist managed to penetrate, and the wall clock showed that it was already true morning again. Hearing the noise from the study, Niu Naifu's wife, who was tidying up the trash bags in the living room before going to work, came in and touched his forehead. She said calmly, "You've drunk yourself into a stupor again. Look how pale you are."
Niu Naifu forced a smile, got off the folding cot, and put his arm around his wife's waist.
"There's freshly made soy milk in the kitchen, and some preserved egg congee in the rice cooker."
His wife turned and went out, picking up the trash bags and changing her shoes at the shoe cabinet. "It's foggy outside today. I think you're still drunk. Have someone from your company come and cook for you. I'm going to work."
Niu Naifu responded with "oh, oh, oh," and rushed into the kitchen as soon as his wife left. His intense hunger made him forget about washing up. After a cup of piping hot soy milk and a bowl of warm preserved egg and lean pork congee, Niu Naifu felt a surge of clarity return. He found two aluminum magnesium carbonate tablets, popped them into his mouth, and chewed while calling Nana at his company.
When Niu Naifu saw Nana that day, the fog was slowly dissipating, and a few sparrows flew down from the sky.
She stood gracefully beside the Crown 30, her lake-blue tight-fitting knit dress accentuating her curves, while a seemingly casually draped white silk scarf created a fashionable atmosphere. Her flesh-colored stockings, shimmering in the hazy light, were an undeniable sight, drawing Niu Naifu's gaze irresistibly. Nana was the only female employee in his small company.
"Mr. Niu, I just ran into your wife. She said you drank too much again last night!"
Nana's voice wasn't as alluring as her figure, but it was magnetic, like the smooth, sexy feel of lace. Niu Naifu sometimes "hated" her obsession with stockings. Almost every day she wore different kinds: capri stockings, ankle stockings, fishnet stockings, suspender stockings—sometimes alluring black, sometimes elegant white, sometimes fiery red, sometimes ambiguous flesh-colored… always outlining her already slender and shapely legs in an incredibly seductive way, and always making Niu Naifu's throat dry whenever he was near those stockings.
Niu Naifu took out his keys to hand to Nana, but then remembered something, pressed the electronic lock himself, bent down to the back seat to pick up the briefcase, and his shoulder bag suddenly slipped off. "Mr. Niu, let me do it!"
Nana, puzzled, leaned forward. "No, no…no need!"
Niu Naifu quickly waved his hand, his words stuttering. The briefcase made another clattering sound. Niu Naifu glanced at Nana, put it in the trunk, and looked somewhat mysterious.
Nana was already used to Niu Naifu's mysteriousness. Nana, a "returnee" who had previously worked for a large international company in Shanghai, ended up working for Niu Naifu entirely by chance. Several years ago, she experienced a severe emotional upheaval, returning to the city heartbroken and giving birth to a baby girl. The man she had been with had flown to the United States and disappeared without a trace. After two years of emotional processing, she came to Niu Naifu's company through a relative's introduction. Her relative said that although the company wasn't large, Mr. Niu was a very good person, and the business was stable, especially since he was always tolerant and generous towards his subordinates.
Nana's first impression of Niu Naifu was indeed good. He had a slender but soft-featured face with platinum-gold rimless glasses, his hair was meticulously combed, and his smile was refined and composed. He wore a white stand-up collar shirt paired with a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, exuding a scholarly air. The office was tastefully decorated, with pothos pillars, areca palms, bird of paradise trees, and dragon blood trees giving the small space a spring-like feel. Behind the boss's desk hung a powerfully painted portrait of a camel in the desert. The bookshelves were filled with selected works by Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Mao Zedong, as well as hardcover editions of the Four Books and Five Classics, Tang and Song poetry, the "Three Words and Two Beats" collection, and facsimiles of the Twenty-Four Histories. There were also books and poetry collections by Nietzsche, Sartre, Freud, Byron, Neruda, Baudelaire, and others, all showing signs of having been read. All of this made Nana think that Niu Naifu must be a man of good taste, and she decided to work for him almost without hesitation.
Niu Naifu carried his briefcase into the office, pondering where to put it discreetly, when Nana followed him in and sat down on the sofa opposite him. Niu Naifu had no choice but to casually stuff the briefcase under the desk, then sat up straight and took a sip of the Dongding Oolong tea that Nana had prepared for him.
"Mr. Niu, regarding our shipment, we're inviting several section chiefs from the State Taxation Bureau tonight. I've already arranged for them to stay at the Lexi Club. Are there any other activities planned after dinner?"
For some reason, Niu Naifu felt somewhat distracted today. Nana's voice seemed to come from afar, muffled and indistinct. His gaze lingered on her seat, further drawing him into a daze.
Nana's legs were crossed, slightly angled inwards, her ankles and arches forming a beautiful curve. Her toes, encased in stockings, were faintly visible through the peep-toe of her black high heels. Niu Naifu seemed to see Xian's legs, also so slender and graceful, but she didn't like wearing stockings, always displaying her fair and delicate skin. The skin on her heels and soles was as smooth and warm as jade, her arches smooth yet slightly bony, with clear veins. Her toes were evenly and fully distributed, her toenails always gleaming with a crystal-clear luster, the tips slightly upturned.
All of this would always remind Niu Naifu of the lower half of the body of the reclining maiden in Angell's "Grand Odalisque." He had never seen more alluring legs and feet than Xian's.
In fact, Niu Naifu did not have a so-called "foot fetish" or "stocking complex." To some extent, he preferred the feeling of being naked and direct sexual contact. However, every time he was with Xian, he could not help but feel that urge. He would hold her legs and feet and caress and lick them, even putting her toes in his mouth and sucking them passionately.
Especially when she used the soles and toes to tease his penis and rub the glans, the fleeting pleasure and the ticklish sensation like being pricked by feathers intoxicated him. Several times, just before he was about to ejaculate, he grabbed Xian's feet, rubbing and massaging them while watching her surprised and shy expression, letting his thick semen passionately spray onto her arches or soles. Xian giggled and exclaimed, "So disgusting!" and "Disgusting!" The scene and the sensations it brought him gave him an unusual excitement. He
remembered one time, and the only time to date, when, after drinking, Niu Naifu tried footjob in its truest sense.
He smeared lubricant all over Xian's feet, sometimes slapping her arches with his penis, sometimes closing her feet to let his penis thrust in and out, sometimes rubbing his glans between her toes... Later, Xian began to cooperate with his desires, letting Niu Naifu lie on his back while she sat on the edge of the bed, using different parts of her feet to stimulate his pleasure, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes heavy, sometimes gentle. Although it seemed a bit clumsy compared to the techniques in AVs, the ample lubricant served a very clever compensation function. When he ejaculated profusely under Xian's feet, Xian had lost her initial shyness. While smearing the sticky fluid on Niu Naifu's chest and stomach with her feet, she playfully said, "I have sweaty feet, don't you find them smelly?" Niu Naifu looked satisfied, pinching her feet and chuckling, "I just like your smelly feet...
" "Hey, Mr. Niu, what's wrong with you?"
Nana noticed that Niu Naifu's eyes were a little dazed and reminded him. Niu Naifu jolted, nearly spilling his tea on himself. "N-nothing... what did you say?"
Nana repeated the story about the dinner party. Niu Naifu hesitated for a moment, then said, "There will definitely be some activities after dinner. Those guys... hehe, I'll arrange things myself after dinner!"
As he spoke, Niu Naifu's gaze involuntarily fell on Nana's legs again, his mind racing: were the soles of her feet as smooth as jade, were her toes, wrapped in stockings, as full and sexy as Xian's...? His gaze moved upwards, seeing two white patches of light peeking out from the gap between her crossed legs, giving a very smooth and alluring feeling. Niu Naifu quickly raised his teacup to his lips to hide the abnormal movement in his Adam's apple.
Nana subconsciously tugged at her skirt. Niu Naifu's gaze at this moment was both familiar and strange to her, a strange and inexplicable ripple passing through her heart. After working at the company for a while, she began to notice that behind his scholarly exterior lay many unknown things. His refined and composed smile, amplified by a woman's unique sensitivity, seemed insincere and naive, especially at the dinner table. He seemed like a completely different person, effortlessly spouting lewd jokes and discussing obscene topics, his gaze towards women utterly devoid of restraint. In bars and karaoke lounges, he seemed intimately familiar with every "madam," and many of the girls and prostitutes would fawn over him, calling him "Brother Niu" in a coquettish tone, while he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. When Niu Naifu suddenly reverted to his refined and composed demeanor in those situations, it was almost certainly because he was preparing to make a move on some woman…
"Mr. Niu, is there anything else to prepare tonight?"
Nana stood up, noticing Niu Naifu's restless appearance. Despite some aversion to this other side of Niu Naifu, she also seemed to vaguely see the shadow of another person in him, leaving her constantly teetering on the edge of inner conflict.
"Go prepare five red envelopes, each with 3000 yuan. Also, get ten cartons of Su cigarettes and five cartons of Zhonghua cigarettes starting with the number 3. Two Su cigarettes and one Zhonghua for each of them. Bring four bottles of Moutai. You'll drive for me tonight!"
Niu Naifu was always perfectly clear-headed when planning these things.
After Nana left, Niu Naifu took out his phone and called Xian. It rang, but she didn't answer. He dialed again, still no answer. Niu Naifu knew that sincerity and persistence were crucial at this moment, so he dialed again, but Xian's phone was off. Niu Naifu was somewhat disappointed, staring blankly at his phone. Xian was stubborn. Although there had been some bumps in the road before, a little coaxing would quickly resolve them, but this time he had gone too far, especially towards a woman like Xian who had given so much for him. Such a blatant betrayal was absolutely intolerable and unforgivable. He thought for a moment and sent a message: Xian, I really drank too much yesterday. I really didn't do anything in the bathroom, please believe me! I miss you!
After sending the message, Niu Naifu began pondering what to do with the combination lock suitcase. He closed the door, paced around his office, and finally remembered the safe in the closet. Like burying a secret, he quietly slipped the suitcase inside, taking up just one shelf. He caught a faint smell of alcohol emanating from the suitcase, feeling somewhat lost: would he ever be able to take this suitcase back to Xian?
He dialed Xian's number again, but it was still switched off. A thought, like a venomous vine, began to grow and coil in Niu Naifu's mind: if Xian could return to him, he would make sure she wore stockings like Nana's…

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