I stand in the doorway and watch Leticia Miller climb onto the green sofa. Her lover is stretched out on the cushions, waiting, and Leticia has been thinking about this since the last time. One hand on the wall for balance, she steps up and walks all over her, body first, then up toward her head, stomping and pressing with slow, wicked pleasure. It is intense, a lot of weight, and the woman beneath her melts into every step. I can't take my eyes off those bare feet. Trampling has never looked this good.

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