Overwatch TK: Sombra and McCree

Overwatch TK: Sombra and McCree

“I know your secret and what you want. Come to Calaveras at 1:00 AM.”

The note had been slipped under Jesse McCree’s room in a dinky hotel in Castillo, Mexico. The words in themselves were uninteresting, typed out and printed on a plain sheet of white A4 that could have come from any printer. In itself, it was not unlike the invitations for showdowns at high noon (or other times) that Jesse had participated in. No, the thing that made him crinkle his brow, tug his thick brown whiskers, and puff hard on his cigar was how below the words, there was the cartoonish clipart image of a pair of bare feet.

What did it mean? Was the picture the signature of the person who had sent the note? Should he expect barefoot someone to waddle up to him and explain to him what was going on? Was the person who sent that note a friend or foe? The tone seemed to suggest the latter, but if it was the former, he wasn’t about to turn down any help in tracking down the illusive hacker—Sombra.

Jesse sighed and took another swig of beer. It was nearing midnight at the Calveras Bar, and he had already been here for half an hour. He had kept his eyes open and his fingers never far from his Peacekeeper revolver as he waited for whatever person was supposed to meet him. And Calveras was far from deserted. There were several packs of Los Muertos gangsters with their gaudy, colourful face paint and clothing laughing and joking on the dance floor. Shifty businessmen in suits huddled by the corner playing cards. Younger kids who looked like teenagers muttering as they played darts and took in the proverbial hive of villainy. Fast women with painted faces and scant clothing sitting alone with legs crossed with one high-heeled shoe dangling from a stocking-clad foot. He tried not to stare at those women, but with nothing else to focus on, his attention kept darting back to it, like a metal that could only resist magnetism for so long. The secret that the note had mentioned was likely Jesse’s foot fetish. Why else would that note had been signed by something as odd as feet? Jesse wasn’t exactly embarrassed about his preference for female feet, as many a night of passion with ladies of the night had ended with amorous experiences in that vein, but it was still the kind of thing he could do without people knowing, especially his colleagues in Blackwatch. Was that note trying to blackmail him? If so, then Jesse would show the fool a thing or two. But he would fire that shot when the time came. Till then, there was nothing to do but wait.

He tried to steady his nerves with another sip and drained the beer, his large hands running on the grubby wooden tabletop counter of the bar with nervous impatience. The bartender was wiping glasses with a towel near him and fixed him with a curious stare.

“You alright, senor? Waiting for a friend?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ve been there almost an hour, haven’t you?” The bartender a bald man with a thick black beard. “Want another drink? On the house.”

“Why not? I sure could use one.”

He reached for a fresh glass and poured Jesse a shot, which the cowboy bounty hunter drowned in one gulp. The alcohol hit him like a shotgun pellet to the head, and he found himself reeling back. “Woah, there, what, what did you put in that?” he asked the bartender, blinking and trying to hold onto the railing as the room started to spin. His hat fell and floated to the floor.

“Something special,” the bartender said, reaching out a hand on Jesse’s shoulder to keep the man from toppling to the floor. “Compliments of senorita Sombra.”

Jesse’s eyes flickered at the mention of the hacker’s name. He fumbled with his revolver but his fingers were fat and unwieldy. He pitched forward and collapsed on the counter, murmuring about dirty, lowdown varmints.

O-O-O

“Hola… wake up, Jesse.”

He groaned, smacking his lips and feeling the faint taste of strong liquor still in his mouth. Who was that person who had just called his name? His stiff, sleepy mind was slow to work as he set about identifying that saucy, cheeky voice with the accent of a young, feminine Latina. Who did he know that met that description?

Jesse’s dark eyes shot open as understanding came to him. “Ah, you enjoy your little nap? Let’s get started.” With the flamboyant highlights in her hair, the supple light brown skin, and that easy smirk on her pink-purple lips, there was no mistaking the woman in front of him as anyone other than the notorious criminal herself—Sombra, McCree’s target.

He surged to his feet—or tried to, in any case, for he had been bound tightly to one of those office chairs that you so often saw in front of PCs. There were ropes around his wrists which were connected to the back of the chair, and his ankles were tied down to the legs of the computer chair as well. This strange room he was in was almost nothing but computers, and it looked like a hacker’s den. Massive purple-tinted monitors lined the walls, with webpages from LumériCo and Volskaya Industries websites open, two of Sombra’s rumoured targets. What appeared to be classified Overwatch documents were scattered about in a haphazard manner, several photos of Jack Morrison and Jesse McCree himself, as well as what looked like the strange Translocator technology that Sombra was reported to use for infiltration and combat.

“That was a pretty durdy trick you pulled back there,” Jesse said, trying to get an arm free. Ropes bound him to the back of the computer chair, and he could feel that his Peacekeeper had been pulled out of its holster, but it seemed Sombra hadn’t known about his stun grenades. “When all a man wanted to do was clench his thirst.”

“Oh, please,” Sombra said, rolling her eyes. Beneath heavy eye makeup, she had big, round ones that were hard to look away from—for a filthy cheater. Like almost everything about her, from her jacket to her long-fingered gloves, they were that light hue of playful purple. “I know that’s not all you wanted.” She swivelled on her chair to smirk at him, propping her feet up on the little coffee table where an open dossier of Shrike was discarded.

The bottoms of her feet were facing him, and as dire and dangerous as the situation was, Jesse couldn’t resist a quick glance at them—it was a reflex, as sure as the hand that went to his gun whenever something unexpected occurred. Sombra’s petite, slender feet weren’t bare, but they were as close as they possibly could be short of nylon stockings. They were encased in tight, minimalist shoes that were sometimes worn by hikers. The shoes had thin, pale blue soles and individual sections for each toe, and the fit was so tight that the sleek material hugged every contour of the feet that McCree could make out the high arches and fleshy balls of the feet.

It had been a speedy, surreptitious ogle, the kind that he could usually get away with, but this Latina gave her small toes a wiggle that was too teasing for it to be incidental. She had not missed it. “You see something you like, cowboy?”

Jesse turned away as he felt a flush creep up his neck as he felt a stirring downstairs. Damnit, this was not the time nor the place! He redoubled his efforts on getting a hand free.

“What’s wrong? Here I am. Weren’t you looking for me?” Sombra had no intention of letting his indiscretion go, and her voice was all giggles and mockery. “Honestly, did you think I didn’t know? Everything can be hacked and everyone.”

“Yeah, I like me some feet,” Jesse said with a scoff. “What about it? That’s my business. It ain’t yours.”

“Information is my business,” she said, grinning. “And it’s funny that the big bad cowboy goes weak in the knees at something as simple as painted toes or an anklet.” As she spoke in that sultry purr, she would flex her feet, curling and stretching her toes back to wrinkle and accentuate her latina arches in turn, which drove home the truth of her words all too well.

“You mean blackmail is your business. Don’t try to sugar-coat what you do.”

“That’s rich! Coming from a bounty hunter like yourself, and a wanted man, besides.”

“I don’t ruin people’s lives the way you do. If you’re familiar with me, you know I’m all for meeting at high noon with pistols drawn, but I don’t skulk about it.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s see how you feel about your job when I sell you to one of your fellow bounty hunters.” She gave him a smile and flashed her white, straight teeth at him in a downright predatory fashion. “Till then, you can just sit there, cowboy. You’ll have to look but don’t touch—no foot worship for you.”

For another twenty minutes, all Jesse could do was sit there as techno music blasted across the room, intermingled with constant tapping of lithe fingers on a keyboard. During all this, Sombra’s feet were in constant mesmerising motion. They would flap one over the other, the small, slender toes would stretch, open, and close, and they would constantly shift positions as if to give him a new sight to drool over. With every tantalising wiggle, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder what the bare soles encased within those shoes might be like, for the minimalist footwear provided just enough detail to keep him hooked yet obscured so much of the delicious flesh itself. It was the worst of teases, like a lady in flats who let her shoes dip and dangle from her dainty feet. You were forever waiting for a fortuitous slip to reveal the bare flesh of her soles that she was hiding, and when you finally got your wish, she’d kick them back on before you could even get a good look.

Every now and then, Sombra would glance up to look at the red-faced frustration on Jesse’s face and smirk. “Don’t mind me,” she said, chuckling. “I’m not distracting you, am I?”

The only consolation to Jesse’s consternation was the fact his right hand had almost worked itself free, though he had a lot of chaffing around his wrists for his efforts. He could almost reach the flashbang stun grenades in the pouch by his back pocket. Then, all he would need was to lure her close, and he could show her a thing or two. If she was so keen on making fun of him for his foot fetish, well, he’d show her that there was more you could do with feet than just kiss them.

His eyes darted to the submachine gun Sombra kept on her desk. How could he get her to come close? A minute later, his right arm was free now, but he needed to get her close enough to stun her with the flashback and take her down while she was distracted.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he called to her, choosing to ignore that her fiendish teasing with her feet had been far from the kind of thing any respectable woman might do. “Might I have a glass of water? I’m mighty parched.”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” she said without turning away from her screen. Oh, she was so infuriating! Making it sound like he was a waiter that had just offered her a drink.

“Come on, my head’s spinning from that cocktail you gave me last night. If I don’t get someone to drink, I think I’m gonna throw up all over this nice carpet of yours.”

“Ugh! Fine.” She threw up her hands and stood up in search of a beverage. She came back with a can of soda, muttering under her breath about boys who couldn’t hold their liquor.

When she popped the tab of the fizzy soda and pressed it close to his lips, McCree looked up at her angry purple irises and said, “Heh, excuse me.” Her large eyes narrowed in confusion then slammed shut as the flashback exploded right above her head.

Jesse surged forward, lifting the chair with him as he tackled her to the ground. He used his strong right hand to throw her down. They tussled for a few moments as the sugary drink spilled over both of them. Sombra was shouting obscenities in Spanish until Jesse’s arm managed to curl around her soft brown throat while he was lying on top of her and use his body weight to keep her pressed down. The chokehold did its job, and as Sombra ceased struggling, Jesse breathed a sigh of relief and extracted himself from the computer chair he had been tied down to, slipping and twisting free of the ropes.

“That could have been hairy,” he murmured, looking down at the slumped, snoring Latina. A frown went across his swarthy features as he stood over her prone form. “But still don't feel right to hurt a lady.”

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he used the ropes that had restrained him moments ago to tie Sombra back in the computer chair. He did all the best knots he knew, and he was confident that she wouldn’t be wriggling her way out of there, unless she had some kind of high tech gadget he didn’t know about. A quick search of her pockets didn’t turn anything up, though. After he was finished, he lifted the chair and pushed it down, doing so gently and slowly so that he didn’t end up hurting the Mexican hacker more than he had already with the chokehold. Now, Sombra’s feet were up in the air for easy access and with the ropes around her ankles, they wouldn’t be going anywhere either.

Smirking, Jesse rubbed his hands together as he admired his handiwork. “Well, now that that’s all done and dusted, let’s see what Miss Hoity-Toity was hiding away.”

To his dismay, it took a bit of time working out how to take off the supercilious Latina’s shoes before he could get at her bare feet. At first, it had seemed that the tight minimalist footwear was connected to her purple stockings, but Jesse later worked out there was a little latch around the ankles that allow the shoes to be removed—that was for the best, as despite the vindictive mood Jesse was in, he’d rather not go about tearing clothes like some kind of savage. You could still be a southern gentleman of sorts even in these trying times.

But Jesse’s grin was wide and genuine as he unwrapped her bare feet and took a gander at them. They had been worth the wait. Sombra’s feet were small and sinuous, as he had figured from what he could make out from those skintight shoes of hers. They were of a slightly lighter shade that the rest of her, a kind of soft wood brown. Her toes were painted in that signature glowing neon purple colour that she so favoured, and they showed every evidence of being pampered. He noticed a little mole on the arch of her left foot and circled the cute birthmark with his fingers, the quick stroke confirming that the feet were every bit as soft as they looked. He supposed it made sense considering a hacker who spent most of her time behind a screen was unlikely to need to go out and be very ambulatory.

After cracking his knuckles, Jesse set out for a hands-on exploration of the supple, pretty feet that were all his to play with. Seeing as Sombra still seemed to be snoozing, he kept his touches light and gentle in order to not wake her. He only used the trigger finger on his right hand to drag up and down the soft flesh of her Latina soles, stroking the contours of her feet as if he were touching some smooth, exquisite fabric. Even these light movements garnered adorable reactions from the slumbering hacker. Her curling toes were shaking as if trying to shrug off an itch she couldn’t quite get to.

Sombra was starting to make some mighty funny noises, grunting, moaning, and giggling in her sleep. A reluctant smile was appearing at the corners of her pastel-purple lips, and Jesse noticed with a throb downstairs that when her face wasn’t full of arrogance, she possessed a kind of wild beauty.

Jesse stepped up his tickling, now using all five fingers to graze and scratch across her immaculate soles with a wispy, feathery touch. His long, slow movements was even more effective in eliciting reactions from her, and every time he pulled his fingers away, he was eager to glide his nails down them again. He was taking deeper breaths without even realising it as his head grew hazy from the sweet touch of those captivating, buttery feet of hers. Her feet were warm, slightly damp from being in those shoes for goodness knows how long, and they were all his.

As if in response to his thoughts, Sombra grumbled and shook her head, twisting from side to side in her sleep as much as her bonds would allow.

“No,” she was starting to murmur, “Stop…”

“Are you dreaming, honey?” Jesse murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Something funny, I bet.” He started tracing his fingers along each toe in turn, examining those small digits that were in perfect proportion to the rest of her slender foot. Jesse would brush his fingers all over them, fondling the fleshy pads, teasing the tips, and prodding around the webbing between each toe that he knew tended to often be such an oh so sensitive spot for the ticklish. Time was spent on the tops as well, stroking around her toenails, insteps, and ankles, for he was spellbound but that bold purple colour that he so really saw on girls. He had never seen such mesmerising feet before, or at least never had feet at such close and extended proximity before, though a few of his colleagues at Overwatch had come close—Lena Oxton’s small, well-arched feet were in surprising good condition considering all the sprinting the English speedster did, Captain Ana Amari had superb bronzed feet when she was younger, and the Irish geneticist Moira O’Deorain had never slouched on a mani-pedi in her entire life, based on looking at those colourful nails on her long, narrow hands and feet.

But it seemed the toes were too ticklish to handle being wiggled and played with for so long, as Sombra’s body wiggled more and more, her breathing grew heavier, and more earnest laughter slipped out of her. Jesse probably should have stopped if he wanted to keep her in that slumbering state, but he couldn’t tear himself away from those delightful feet of hers, and well, it wasn’t that fun to do this while she was asleep anyway—let her know what was happening, let her see her predicament.

A few more insistent flicks on her pedicured toes later, Sombra coughed and spluttered as she blinked back to consciousness, her big purple eyes squinting when she saw her scenario.

“Didn't see that coming,” she said, sighing and groaning at the same time. “Damn, what’s going on? Let me out of here!”

“I’ve got unfinished business with you,” Jesse said, grabbing a foot with each hand. He put his thumbs on her arches and made light swirling motions, which must have made for a deceptively soothing massage, as Sombra’s face softened into a sly smile. “Let’s see what kind of fun we can have around here.”

“You want to mess around with my feet? Well, I guess a free massage isn’t too bad. Press your fingers in a bit more, cowboy.”

It was laughable that the Latina still had the temerity to be so bossy. Despite the residual giggles when she had been roused from her chokehold-induced sleep, she hadn’t seemed to put it all together that what Jesse had been doing before was tickling her. That for all for the good, for the cowboy would all to happily demonstrate once again.

“You know, I was thinking about your methods—blackmail can only get you so far before it becomes useless. There are much more persuasive ways of getting people to help you out or tell you what to know. I’ll demonstrate for ya.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You might have known about my fondness for purdy ladies’ feet, but it seems you missed something.” Jesse observed a twitch in Sombra’s right eye as Jesse’s thumbnails started to scratch in those high, delicate brown arches of hers.

“Oh, really?” Sombra scoffed, scowling. “What?”

“There’s something I enjoy far more than a massage or foot worship.”

Before she could even ask, he sent her into hysterics with a sudden ten-fingered assault on her silky soles. Unlike the slow touches he had used earlier, this was a fierce scribbling of both hands going all-out. At once, Sombra snapped her head back a squealed with laughter. Her sleepy giggles had been soft, her laughter when they were talking had been haughty, but this was the melodious, squeaky laughter of a lady whose feet were far too ticklish for her own good.

“Tickling is pretty fun, don’t ya think?” Jesse said, laughing along with her. “I guess you must think so, look at how much you’re laughing! Look at that goofy smile on your face. You’re having the time of your life. It’s fun, ain’t it?”

Despite the wild giggles that spurted out of her as he alternated between raking his nails under her wiggly toes to scraping the entire sole, Sombra managed a despondent groan. “Thihihihis is nohohohot fun!”

“What are you sayin’? It’s loads of fun! Well, for me anyway.” He chuckled and skittered his fingers all over her soles, guiding them to locations hitherto rarely explored. He used the very tips of his fingers to tease the sides of her feet and smiled at her way her painted toes opened and closed with every sweep up or down. He went at one foot at a time to give it a meticulous and thorough probing. Yanking those elegant digits back to keep the sole stretched out and taut, he closed his eyes, stroked all over the dainty smoothed-out sole, and listen to her peals of hysterical laughter intermixed with Spanish curses.

When he let go of the foot, the abused appendage curled up immediately, but it was too little too late, for Jesse had only done so because it was the other foot’s turn. There, Jesse took note of how extended Sombra’s high arch was on accounting of the toes being pulled back, and he went at that new spot with a fierce digging motion that brought tears of laughter to the hacker’s face, which smeared some of her purple eye makeup. “Stop! Stahahahap!”

“Woah, there, what’s wrong? You had enough already?”

“Yehehehes!”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. I’m having a pretty good time as it is. Maybe, I’ll do something else if you beg me.”

“What! You’re crazy!”

“Your call, ma’am, I’m having a ball of a time right here. Your toes are pretty ticklish, ain’t they?”

“Nooooo!” Whether this scream was in response to Jesse’s words or because he had started playing this little piggy with a ferocious wiggling and tickling of the big toe of her right foot, it was unclear.

“Plehehehease, no mohohore!”

“More toe tickling?” Jesse said as Sombra screamed an impassioned denial. “Well, if you insist.”

Chortling, Jesse slipped his nimble fingers between her toes in order to lodge each one between a toe-gap. When he started to wiggle his fingers, Sombra wailed again as the dainty, delicate skin located between each toe was tormented at once.

“Lehehehehave them alohohohone!”

“You know, I might consider doing something different if you beg me. I mean, if you’re really curious about trying some foot worship, as a southern gentleman, I’m obliged to indulge you.”

“Yohohoho’re no gentleheheheheman!”

“Your words wound me, ma’am,” Jesse said in a dry, sardonic tone. “I don’t know how I’m gonna live with myself. I’ll have to take my mind off it by really working on these tootsies right here.”

Chuckling, he started drawing circles in her delicate Latina arches, smiling as he noticed how her feet were much warmer now, flushed and pink from the job his nails had done on them.

After the cheeky hacker tried to reopen negotiations and demand a foot massage instead, Jesse smirked. “That’s what I’m doing right now? If I’m tickling you, it’s an accident—honest.”

Time could be a funny thing sometimes, and it felt like a few minutes to Jesse, but when he glanced up at the digital clock in the room, he saw close to half an hour had passed. Sombra’s coiffed purple hair was starting to become sweaty and dishevelled.

“Fine, fine,” she gasped when Jesse gave her a quick breather. “Do, do it.”

“Do what?” Jesse said, smiling at her. “If you want me to lick your feet, just say it. If you prefer the tickling, hey, I understand!”

Sombra threw him a dark, huffy look. “I-I want you to lick my feet,” she said, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Worship them, kiss them, suck my toes, do whatever you want. Damn, you happy now? Just get it over with.”

“Well, if you insist.” A faint smile was on his lips as he realised that she had requested several things that he hadn’t even mentioned. Had she come across them in her research? Had she been curious about what they were like? Well, if that was the case, he had to do the chivalrous thing and show her.

Jesse closed his eyes as he took on the fragrant aroma of her sole and opened his mouth to launch a slow, sensual lap from her heel to her arches. He had felt the soft suppleness of her skin with his fingers, but it was such a different sensation when you used your tongue. As he licked up towards the ball of the foot, his whiskered chin brushed across the bottom of her arch where it met the heel to add another ingredient to the ticklish, sensuous stew he was serving her.

Noticing the way she tittered when his beard or whiskers brushed down her brown soles, he did it more, but Sombra was too much a vixen to cooperate, and her flailing feet actually managed to poke him in the eye.

“I-I’m not making things easy for you,” she said, her comely features crinkled into a defiant frown.

Jesse laughed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Because of the way the computer chair held her legs wide apart from each other, she couldn’t do anything when he held a foot steady as he worked all over it with tongue, teeth, and facial hair. He took care to swirl his tongue all over that little birthmark on her arch in particular.

When Sombra had been teased in her sleep, her giggles had been soft and intermixed with sighs and gasps. When she had tasted the relentless onslaught of ten ruthless fingers, her mirth had been explosive, a mixture of squeaks, loud squeals, and shouts of laughter. This was different. Now, the young Latina was all shudders, surprised moans, and embarrassed snickers as the combination of tongue and truth brought out the probity in here.

Tonguing her arches always brought a grunting, indignant smile to her face. When his mouth encased around a toe or so and began to suck or nibble, fresh. breathy peals of laughter erupted out of her. As Jesse took the big toe of her left foot into his mouth for another suckle, his tongue caressing all over its pad, he chanced to look up at her face, he saw the flustered, blushing face and those purple eyes that were wide and so dilated.

“Oh, oh, my toes… es en serio?” she muttered, leaning her head back and looking up at the ceiling.

“Enjoying yourself, huh?” he said after he finished with that toe. As soon as he pulled away, the small, slender toes of that foot curled down and flexed away. Not that Jesse minded the gesture, as he enjoyed the sight of those flashy purple toenails of hers.

When he looked up at Sombra’s face, he saw a deep flush in her cheeks but not a trace of fear or embarrassment.

“Yeah, it was alright,” she said in the same cocksure tone as before. “I expected better.”

He had to laugh. “Have you now? I’m not sure I believe you. You trying to put on a show of being unflappable, ain’t ya?”

She averted his eyes and pouted. Had her wrists been free, Jesse was sure she would have crossed her arms. “You’re not the first to pay attention to my feet. I take good care of them.”

“I can tell,” Jesse said, peering closer. He had tasted faint hints of nail polish during his licking that indicated her pedicure was very fresh. There was also the fact that along the faint odour of perspiration was a flowery, fruity smell that must have come from skincare products. Had she expected that something like this might happen? Had she expected that she might be overpowered and put in a situation like this? When he saw the flush that crept up her neck, remembered the noises she had made during the foot worship, and recalled how notorious Sombra was for being hard to track down on account of her teleporting Translocater, he began to really wonder. It had been a little easy to take her unawares with his flashbang, now that he thought about it.

But he pushed it all from his mind. If she wanted to go through this voluntarily, well, who was he to deprive her of that?

“What’s wrong?” she said in a light, mocking tone. She wiggled her violet toes at him the way a swordsman might beckon provokingly at a foe. “Can’t think of a comeback? Lost your nerve, huh? You can still surrender to me if you want, cowboy.”

Jesse grinned at her. “And not finish tasting those pretty toes of yours? I’d hate to disappoint you like that.”

The most confusing thing that could happen in a battle was being pulled in two different directions at once, he knew from experience, and the wily bounty hunter decided he would give Sombra a taste of what it was like when Winston was flying and zapping at you from the front while Tracer zipping away and plinking you from the flank.

“You know, I had to take a quick leak earlier,” Jesse said, rummaging in his pocket.

“And?” Sombra said in between pants. “I hope you flushed.”

“Oh, I did, don’t you worry. And look what I found while I was there.”

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the purple hairbrush that Jesse had commandeered. “Thief!”

“I think you’re not really one to talk,” Jesse said with a hearty chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll mix it up for you.”

“What do y—” she grunted, her words turning into a muffled groan as her teeth slammed shut from the sudden surge of stimulation. Jesse had guided the thick, plastic-tipped bristles of the hairbrush to her left foot and commenced scrubbing. While her wrinkled arch of one foot was being brushed, he took Sombra’s littlest toe into his mouth and sucked on it with a fervour and hunger that made the Mexican hacker fluttered her eyelids. Next, Jesse took more toes into his mouth, licking and nuzzling them. The contradictory juxtaposition of sensations drew a startled yelp from Sombra’s pouty lips followed by a series of wheezy cackles.

Jesse kept up this combination for several minutes, grinning in marvel at how Sombra’s hysterics would reflect every minuscule change in pace and intensity. When he slowed down the brushing of the scrappy hairbrush and slathered her toes in long, tender licks, Sombra was all but purring and cooing. When he used more teeth instead of warm tongue to nibble around the painted digits while keeping up a steady scrubbing with the brush, she yowled, shrieked, and made noises that would not have been out of place in the most violent of affrays, her wild laughter peppered with frantic comments in Spanish that were doubtless not very pleasant.

“I wonder how your toes will like the brush,” Jesse mused, scratching his chin.

Sombra’s eyes shot open. “Nohoho, my tohohoes are only for worhohohahahahah!”

Jesse’s ears perked up as her last word dissolved in a torrent of wild giggles as he guided the Sombra’s hairbrush to the toes were still slick in his saliva, which acted as a convenient lubricant. What had she almost said? Her toes were only for worshipping? The thought that she might be enjoying this as much as he was brought fresh heat to his loins, but he resolved not to be distracted. While the brush took care of the tops of the Latina’s gorgeous feet, his tongue ensured that her high, sensitive arches did not feel too lonely. The skin there was enflamed from all the scrubbing, and it felt wonderful under his tongue, so delightful that he spent minutes just sliding along them and tracing all the subtle lines and wrinkles there.

After the arches of both feet, Jesse slouched back, wiped his mouth, and put down the brush.

“Is, is that all you got?” Sombra said, panting as a bead of sweat dripped off her nose. She was still smiling, though whether that was a lingering effect of the tickling or something else, Jesse couldn’t say.

“Just a quick pit stop,” he said and rubbed his jaw. Your mouth got pretty tired from all that tonguing. “There’s a vending machine outside, right?”

“Down the street and to the left.”

“Want me to pick up anything for you while I’m there?”

“I could use a drink.”

“On it. Don’t go anywhere now.” He gave each foot a kiss before standing up and heading to the door. When he glanced back at her, the grinning Latina threw him a flirty wink that made him grin.

When Jesse returned with a six pack of beer under his arm and several bags of potato chips, Sombra was gone along with her shoes, her submachine gun, and several papers. “We’ll, I’ll be,” he said, sighing. He pulled out his Peacekeeper revolver, thought better of it, and tucked it back in its leather holster. He could not pretend to be surprised that the hacker had given him the slip, but he could also not pretend that he was all that disappointed. Her Transponder had probably been active the whole time, and she could have got away at any time, as Jesse himself had suspected would be the case. The only mystery was why she had waited so long before using it. Had she wondered how far he’d go? Had she been enjoying herself? Or had it merely been more tactically viable to wait till he left the room to teleport away? Was he just overthinking it all?

There was a note on the chair where she had been that made Jesse slap his knee and chortle when he saw it. Scribbled in purple pen, it said: “Sorry, cowboy, I GTG. Same time next week?”

“It’s a date,” he murmured, smiling. He would have to pay Calaveras another visit, it seemed. So, he hadn’t seen the last of her. They would probably do this dance again, and he couldn’t wait.