Rachel Keller Feet Novels & Stories

When we reach the end of the track, we get out of the car and get my luggage out of the back. "Let's take what we can carry now. Once we've talked to Rachel, the three of us can go back and get the rest of your belongings." I nodded and with a bag on our backs, arms and heads we started the trek. I am in good shape, Meg has been doing warrior training more often, so this walk is a piece of cake for us. When we finally reach the cave where Rachel lives, we see her under a tree, sorting the harvest from her garden. Next to her was a large barrel of water in which she washed the vegetables and placed them in a bowl.

It had been a difficult time for all of them and Rachel still worried about their vulnerability. Rachel smoothed a hand down the silken fabric of her signature black cocktail dress. She always wore black, convinced it minimized the flaws in her figure. She saw her hips as too wide, her thighs as too chunky, her tummy as too rounded, especially for someone as short as she was. Now she wished she could kick off the four-inch heels she used to boost her five-foot-two-inch height. Her thick honey-colored hair was pulled up in a sophisticated arrangement that added yet another inch or two. Anything to make her feel less like a chunky miniature lost at an adult function.

“That’s our mate! We need to go back!” “No,” I said more firmly than I intended. I couldn’t bring myself to face him after finding out this new information. It had to have been a mistake. Oh goddess, please tell me you’ve made a mistake. As I went back to my dorm room, Rachel was lying on her bed. She was doodling in her notebook with headphones on, kicking her foot to the beat of her music. She had an unusual style to her; she wore colorful clothing that fit tightly around her perfectly formed figure. She wasn’t afraid to show skin and I admired that about her. She had tattoos along her thighs, stomach, and arms. Her hair was short, in a pixie style. She was naturally blonde but had light b

RACHEL=~>What was that all about? KELLY=~>Let just forget about it, please. We are still friends? RACHEL=~>Sure. KELLY=~>So What are you up to? RACHEL=~>Was watching a movie on Netflix when your text came in. KELLY=~>Oh, Sorry for disturbing you RACHEL=~>It Fine. KELLY=>You Free tomorrow? RACHEL=>Yeah kind of.After coming back from church...Am always home or maybe hang out with Nana.

"I am on the last one." "Great, I'll make us some coffee." With that, she is off to the kitchen. Rachel is stunning. She has curly red hair, yet her locks always look managed. She stands at 5'5", so a bit shorter than me at 5'10". Rachel also has a very athletic build. In contrast, I have a womanly shape. I am not overweight, but I do have wide hips and a larger bust than average.

As she walks, I watch her, noting how different we are even down to the way we dress. Rachel has no qualms about showing off her body, which is understandable because her years of doing track and field in high school and a sprinkle of God’s favor have gifted her with a figure most girls would kill for. She’s wearing a short black dress with nothing but slips of material and prayers covering the entirety of her back. It’s a far cry from the jeans and cropped top combo I’m sporting. But even though we didn’t plan to coordinate and our clothes are very different, we do somehow complement each other… not unlike our personalities. Two very different peas that were lucky enough to find themselves

I save the deck, shove my hair into a knot, and shuffle to the door. Rachel breezes in like she owns the place, a human caffeine shot in ripped jeans and copper space buns. Unless I’m in my usual five-inch heels for work, she towers over me at five foot eight. Sometimes I’m jealous of her height. Tall people have it way easier in life. She drops a bag that smells heavenly onto my counter. “All right, short stuff, you’ve officially spent too many Friday nights alone with PowerPoint,” she declares. “Tragic. We’re staging an intervention.”

She thought of her with that word now, even if she couldn't say it. On Friday night, Rachael waited until her mother fell asleep and then snuck out of the house. She decided to try to dress cool but not too overtly sexy, especially because this Lyda girl would be there. At least at first. She wore a tight white tank top to show off her breasts and a pair of tight blue jeans. She wore flip-flops so she could be casually barefoot as soon as she got into the house. She was wearing a toe ring on her left middle toe.

He did not expect that Rachel's attack would be so powerful, it felt like he was fighting an alpha equal to her strength. What exactly had Rachel been doing for the past 10 years to be that strong? Where did she get her strength and training from? The question hung in Kennedy's mind without an answer. Rachel was back on the attack and Kennedy stepped back to push Rachel's sword away. For a full five minutes, the fierce duel was only filled with the clanking sound of the swords clashing. Until then, Kennedy began to let his guard down when he saw Rachel looking exhausted. Kennedy smirked and thought that Rachel would soon give up. The woman huffed and puffed in place with sweat pouring down.

Jayce “Fuck…” I cursed, closing the door of the bathroom, holding my hand to my heart, that is thumbing in my chest as if I were a teenager. Sharing the same space with Rachel was dangerous. I knew it, but didn’t realize that it was going to be that hard. I took some deep trying to calm down my thumping heart, which seemed to be popping out of my chest at any moment now. Rachel was never the type of girl who was shy, she speak what was in her mind, at least when things come to sex. Other than that, she is pretty good at hiding anything else.