Mason's Masters - Chapter 1 (Preview) (Patreon)

A spin-off commission of Mini Mason, this story is focused entirely on feet. It's been a long commission. 8 chapters in total, although they won't all be as long as this one. But I decided to share a preview so it wouldn't just be me writing +10k words without letting anyone read anything!

~

Though the Woodfield Mall, located in the heart of Chicago’s bustling suburbs, didn’t open until 10am on the weekdays, Claire Hill’s entire tiny staff at the Regal Nail Salon all made sure to arrive promptly by 9:30 every day. Although it didn’t take all 16 of them to help Claire set up the store for the day’s patrons, it did take all 16 of her three-inch-tall employees to give Claire her daily morning foot massage. Officially, they were never scheduled to clock in until the day started at 10, but it was expected that they all show up half an hour early anyways to give the half-Indian, half-Swiss 34 year old woman a relaxing rubdown before the rest of the day’s appointments. “My feet will always be the hardest client for you to please,” she would often remind the new hires, “so once you’re done with me, there should be no complaints for the rest of the day.”

And there rarely were. At Claire’s salon, the tiny employees were paid exceptionally well—relative to their size, of course. Whereas most of the Chicago area had a minimum wage approaching $16 an hour, tinies’ wages started at barely 10 cents. (Considering their bodies were less than a tenth of a percent the size of normal people, 10 cents was actually a pretty generous amount. What might take a regular worker 5 minutes to do, such as mopping up a floor, could often prove itself an all-day affair for a tiny person, and as such, their pay was usually drastically lower to reflect their lower output of work. This wasn’t a problem with all tiny jobs, such as customer service reps and office workers, but it didn’t really matter. Tiny people consumed an incredibly low amount of resources anyways, so everything from their houses to food to plane tickets were as stunningly cheap as their labor was.) But at Regal, the starting wage was a whole 50 cents an hour, more than twice what other tiny nail techs typically made. As a result, her employees acknowledged how fortunate they were to work at her salon, and whenever an employee was fired or quit, she’d have a slew of replacement applications from enthusiastic tinies who were practically begging for a position at her store.

The best part of it all was how much money she made off of them. A typical, regular-sized pedicure (or manicure) would cost around $40, of which about half would go to the nail tech for their hour of work. But at Claire’s salon, she charged $80 for a basic nail package, since the experience of having tiny people toil away at one’s feet was seen as a luxury. It was in the salon’s name after all; at Regal Nail Salon, they wanted all of their clientele to feel like queens and kings. And since her employees were so cheap, her profit margins were insane compared to her old school competitors. Barely halfway into her 30s, Claire’s local business had already made her a millionaire—and tiny people were lining up around the block to help her make even more.

“What’s going on everyone?” she now asked, crossing her arms and peering down at her little minions crowded around her feet. “You guys seem like you’re in a slump today, I can’t have that once we open. We’ve got a lot of appointments today, it’s gonna be a lot of hard work.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” a few of the workers jokingly replied, making sure to pick up the pace. Though some bosses wouldn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone, Claire didn’t mind her employees referring to her as a queen, even if it was in jest. Considering she currently had four tiny people massaging the webbing between her ten toes, six tinies punching and kneading her soles (two per arch, one per heel), four tinies painting her toenails, and her pair of supervisors diligently polishing each of her toe rings, she was definitely being given enough attention to feel like a monarch.

“Oh, Bryan, that reminds me,” she said, and one of the nail painters looked up. “Remember Mrs. Davis from yesterday? That small, elderly woman who you gave the ocean blue polish to?”

Bryan knew where his boss was headed, and hesitantly nodded his head. “Yes, Miss Hill.”

“I noticed you got a little smudge on the edge of her cuticles, and forgot to mention it before you left yesterday. You’re lucky she didn’t mention anything, but slip-ups like that can’t happen again. Our customers pay for a premium experience, and at your size, a smudge like that should be way easier to avoid.”

“I’m sorry Miss Hill. I accidentally turned the blow dryer on high, and it pushed a glob of paint a bit too far.”

“I don’t care what the reason is,” Claire sharply replied, a hint of irateness in her tone. “There shouldn’t have even been a ‘glob’ to begin with if your layers were the right thickness.”

The minuscule employee bowed his head, “You’re totally right, and I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“That blow dryer is a privilege,” the stern woman continued. “Before electricity, servants used to use their mouths to blow the paint dry. Is that how you wanna work?”

“No, Miss Hill.”

Claire nodded approvingly, then glanced at her watch to see how much time they had til opening. “Good. We still have fifteen minutes til 10, so until we open, I want you to kneel down in front of the nail you were working on and dry it the old fashioned way. Hopefully you’ll have better control over your mouth than you did that blow dryer.”

Bryan blushed at her comment, but set his brush aside and got down on his knees anyways. Claire watched with a smug expression of superiority as the tiny person leaned over her toenail, so close that the strong, chemical smell became almost too nauseating to bear, and started to quickly blow on the polish, hoping to get it dry before the store opened.

“I think he still had two more coats to go, plus the top layer,” one of the toe massagers commented, Claire’s newest hire.

Before their boss could reply, Bryan spoke up, already knowing what would be expected of him. “It’s okay Jordan. I’d love to stay after clocking out and finish the last few layers for Miss Hill.”

Claire grimaced, “Oh, but then I’ll have to stay after work too.”

The tiny man paused, before offering, “During my lunch break then?”

“Perfect!” Claire exclaimed, then addressed the rest of her employees. “Now, the rest of you aren’t gonna make any rookie mistakes today either, are you?”

A chorus of “No, Miss Hill,” rang out among the crowd, with a handful of the workers even bending down to give the woman some quick kisses, a sign of respect which Claire always appreciated. Details like that would be the difference between who got a one cent raise and a two cent raise at the end of the year.

But eventually Claire’s roleplaying as her employees’ tremendous ruler had to end, as her watch’s alarm beeped a few times to let the staff know it was opening time. The nail techs, foot massagers, and ring polishers all dispersed, and Claire sighed, begrudgingly slipping on her sandals and heading over to open the gate into the rest of the mall. Emma Lorenz, the assistant manager and only other normal-sized person helping Claire on the weekdays, was just walking up after visiting the nearby Starbucks. “G’morning Claire,” she grinned, as her boss politely smiled back at her. “How you doing today?”

“Hey Emma—um, I’m fine, thanks—and can you grab the new foot baths from the stock room?” Claire wasn’t really one for pleasantries, and even a year after hiring Emma, her charisma still caught Claire off guard. “We’re gonna need three of them. A friend of mine is bringing her daughters in for the day’s first appointment.”

Emma nodded, and left to fetch the bath machines from the back. Claire turned to face the inside of the freshly opened mall, still nearly empty before the day’s shoppers rolled through. But there at the other end of the mall, rounding the corner from the east entrance, strolled a confident looking woman in her late 40s. Always on time, Claire thought to herself; I cannot have Bryan on nail duty with Nicole. Her friend was the only regular who might’ve been more strict than she was.

Just a few seconds behind Nicole came Mikayla and Skye, even from afar looking excited for their upcoming mani-pedi. Gonna make a lot of money this morning, Claire thought, and once the trio noticed her, she waved at them invitingly with a friendly smile.

~

The Jeffries Family all had different reactions as Claire’s tiny employees labored at their hands and feet for the next hour and a half. For some reason, Nicole was fiercely neutral about the salon’s lavish treatment. If it weren’t for how often she came to get her feet massaged by the little workers, Claire would’ve wondered whether the woman even liked getting her toes and soles rubbed. But her daughters weren’t so guarded: Mikayla was so relaxed that she literally fell asleep at one point, and Skye was the most visibly happy customer Claire had had in weeks. With every new step in the pedicure process, her bright eyes beheld each tiny that serviced her with an intense gaze that seemed to hint at a burgeoning superiority complex. Claire had seen it before, and she kept an eye on Skye for most of the Strauss’ appointment. But eventually Claire had to leave to use the bathroom, and Skye noticed that Emma was busy at the register, so she seized the opportunity to lean over and make a proposition with the two tinies who were finishing up with the last glossy layer on each of the 18 year old’s big toes.

“Hey, are either of you good at painting?” she quietly asked, looking around again to make sure the manager wasn’t watching.

The two workers both glanced at each other uneasily, before the older one, a man in his 30s, looked back up at the vibrant girl’s eyes. “Um… are you unhappy with your pedicure, ma’am?”

Skye rolled her eyes, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant like literally: do either of you know how to paint really well?” The tinies were still confused, and gave each other another glance, stopping what they were doing. “Because I looked up on my phone how much you guys make here, and it said 50 cents an hour? So if one of you is good at painting, I wanted to know if you could detail my toenails with some kind of tiny art that a normal person could never paint. And in return I’ll double what you guys are making for my pedicure. Which’d be, what… a dollar?” She had to keep herself from snickering at how paltry an amount it was, although a hint of a giggle escaped her lips.

One of the tiny employees actually was pretty good at painting, and Skye was amused at the fact that he didn’t immediately reject her offer. He was even about to accept when the teenager spoke up with an even better deal. “How about I give you guys an even better offer? I’ll pay you half a day’s pay to, you know, treat me like a queen a bit—and kiss my feet. You don’t need to make out with them or anything, just like quick little pecks all along my toes. In return for two bucks.” Now she really couldn’t hold back her derisive giggling, and some of the workers tending to Mikayla’s feet nearby looked over. But quickly humoring this girl for four hours worth of wages wasn’t such a crazy idea to her tiny toe-painters, and they seriously considered it. “No takers? Not even for two fifty?” she teased.

So she upped her deal yet again. “Well how about this: I’ll pay one of you five dollars to come home with me in my shoe, and spend the rest of your shift cuddling up with my foot. That’s more than you make in a day, and you don’t even have to work for it! You’d just sit there, and maybe let my toes toy around with you here and there.” Upon hearing Skye’s final offer, one of the employees working on her feet actually stopped what he was doing, and just as he opened his mouth, Skye burst into a fit of laughter: “Oh my GOD, are you gonna say yes? You’re actually willing to be my foot servant for the rest of the day, for only—”

“They won’t be going anywhere, Miss Jeffries.” Skye’s derisive laughter was cut short as Claire walked up from behind, and the employee blushed at having hesitated before quickly getting back to work on polishing Skye’s toes. “My workers have strict contracts that forbid them from associating with any clientele outside of the salon. You’re not the first to think you can just wave a few dollars in their face like a carrot on a stick.” Having previously felt like a princess in the midst of the tiny workers, Skye now paled under the shadow of the salon’s manager. “Since your mother’s a regular, I’ll let it slide. But I better not catch you trying to poach my employees again.” The mischievous teenager was too embarrassed to even respond, and sank into the chair as Claire strolled by to see how progress was coming on Mikayla and Nicole.

Nicole motioned for Claire to come closer, and glanced apologetically at her daughter. “Sorry about Skye. She can be really cocky sometimes.” Claire shook her head, indicating that it wasn’t a big deal. “I was curious though,” Nicole continued, “are you hiring at the moment? My son is a shrinkee; a place like this would be perfect for him.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t need anyone extra at the moment,” her friend replied. “I can let you know when something opens up though.”

“Oh, that’d be great. I’m sure it’s a costly operation, all these special sized workers and tools.”

Claire snorted, “Affordability isn’t the issue. I spend more on a cup of coffee than these things make in their entire shift. It’s gotta do with tiny certified licensing and some other shitty town ordinances.”

“Really, that’s all?” Claire looked at Nicole with a raised eyebrow, who seemed surprised. “Well I’m friends with a few city council members. I’m sure I could pull a few strings, give you a little more wiggle room.”

“That’d be fantastic, Nicole. You could come here free for a month if you helped me out with something like that.” Claire puffed out her chest as she stood tall, crossing her arms and looking down at all the tiny people under her control.

“I can definitely make it happen. Mason doesn’t give me foot massages very often, which is a shame considering he’s the perfect size for them.” As the other woman thought about what she could do with the extra hands, Nicole looked down at the workers at her feet, imagining her son toiling alongside them. “But I’d just love it if he worked at a place like this—if a spot opens up, I’ll make sure that boy applies as soon as possible.”