Heels: The Seduction

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This three-part sequence is dedicated to my dear friend, Vallie. Thanks for your constant love and support. You have earned these heels.

 

Suggested Audio Candy

 

[1] Kenny Loggins “Footloose”

[2] KC & The Sunshine Band “Boogie Shoes”

 

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Vallie knew her way around a pair of high heels. Footwear was her thing as attested by three closets filled with meticulously ordered shoes from around the globe. From pumps, to sling backs, to knee-high boots, to her personal favorite stilettos; her only dilemma was the fact that she only possessed one pair of feet. Many of them had never left their box and a fair few pairs were still adorned with extortionate price tags; not that this mattered one iota to Vallie. She had always remembered one particular nugget of wisdom passed down to her as a young girl. You can tell a lot about a person by what they wear on their feet. It resonated deeply with her and, while her friends were checking out tight hineys and salivating over rippling biceps, she was far too busy staring south and ensuring that potential suitors had gotten that one key component right before advancing.

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At 5″1 compete with hair lacquer, she stood at the perfect height to discern bulbous bunions, athlete’s foot or cracked heels and all three were an instant turn-off. It astonished her how people could take so little care of something responsible for both balance and movement. Hers had little burden placed on them as she weighed little over 100 lbs soaking wet. However, she still took the very best care of her toes and treated them to a pedicure at least once a month just to keep them tidy and trim. Occasionally she would have to endure flippant comments and suggestions that her obsession had gone a little too far but she took it all with a pinch of salt and calmly replied that shoes simply made her happy. Hours on end she would stand before her wardrobe admiring her wide array of different brands and styles and never once did her eyes glaze over, except with unbridled pride.

“Well then”

“Well then what bitch?”

“Are you going to stand there all day daydreaming or are you gonna get your bony ass in there and try them on?”

“Have you seen the price tag?”

“Big whoop. Treat yourself, they are rather marvelous”

“Aren’t they just? They may just be the finest pair I have ever laid eyes on”

“I wouldn’t go that far but they’re cool for sure”

“Sacrilege. They’re not cool. They couldn’t be farther than cool. They’re hot. Blazing”

“Well go on already. I need to pee anyway so I’ll meet you back here in five okay bitch?”

“Make it ten”

“Honey I took a dump already this morning. Just go and charge them already will you?”

“You have no idea do you?”

“Of what? Whether I can make it to Starbucks before I piss myself?”

“Of how imperative it is to select correctly”

“They’re shoes. Fuck. You’ve seen Cinderella right?”

“Watched it every day until I was thirteen”

“Well forget the glass slipper for a moment. Do you think Prince Charming gave a shit about her feet when they were propping up his headboard while he filled her tram with spam?”

“Vulgar. Where’s your class bitch?”

“Lost it with the prolapse”

“Get out of here will you. Love ya”

“Yeah yeah. Love ya too bitch. Now go. Go and buy some shoes”

 

Stilettos+High+heel+Shoes

 

It was a good few seconds before Vallie took her friend Melissa’s advice and instead she stood comatose and in utter awe of these magnificent works of modern art. They were bright red like seventies blood, with a six-inch metal heel, and evidently crafted from the finest suede obtainable. It was rare for her to exhale; other than at the tail-end of unrewarding sex, which she knew only too well after her last boyfriend possessed what she often referred to as an ingrown penis. Just shy of three inches on the flop didn’t concern her particularly as what really mattered was how much growth it facilitated on arousal. Barely another pinch; let alone an inch. Clyde was packing a dud and the worst thing was that he actually thought himself some sort of sexual wizard. She loved to help others, thus faked over five hundred orgasms over their three-year courtship, just so he could feel good about himself. What thanks did she get for her kind turn? Dumped unceremoniously via e-mail. Consequently, his friends now called him Chump Change.

“Hello dear”

“Hi”

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to take a look at a pair of shoes in your window please”

“Red ones right?”

“How did you know?”

“You’re the sixth person today honey. In fact you’re lucky they’re still there. Think the price tag scared folk off. They’re Italian designer you see”

“I guessed”

Only pair in existence as far as I know”

“Can I try them on?”

“You might just be in luck you know. What are you? My guess is about a six”

“I am”

“Well then why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right back dear”

 

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Vallie had known the moment she set eyes on them that they would be designer originals. She also knew they’d be tailor-made for her in-step. Something drew her to them and she had already decided which outfit to wear to Inferno tonight. She regarded this as fateful; after finding out three weeks ago that one of her very best friends, Sally-Jane, had been spreading malicious lies about her, she had been somewhat mealy-mouthed. Her large expressive hazel eyes had lost a little of their sparkle and she was overdue a touch of good fortune so this had been positively meant to be. There was unspoken dialogue between Vallie and her upcoming acquisition; from behind the pristine glass window, they made it abundantly clear that they would reciprocate her advances. A match seemingly made in heaven.

“There you go”

“Thanks. Would you be a sweetheart and give us a little time alone together please?”

“Honey for almost seven hundred bucks you can elope together for all I care. Long as your credit’s good, you take all the time that you need”

“Seven hundred you say?”

“Almost. Here’s the kicker. 666. Dollars I mean. And sixty six cents. I don’t make the prices, I just take the commission”

“Here. Charge them”

“But you haven’t tried them on yet”

“Just charge them. Second thoughts, I think I’ll wait until I get home to savor them in peace”

“No refunds or exchanges you understand. They’re one-offs remember”

“I won’t be bringing them back”

“Okey dokey”

She wasn’t lying about that. Even if they didn’t fit, there was a slot midway along row seven which they’d protrude from most delightfully and Vallie had no intention of returning them, regardless of the extortionate asking price. She would be required to throw overtime for them but this was no great ask as she’d done so for shoes on numerous occasions previously. Once her killer new heels were procured, the only priority would be showing these babies off under fluorescent lights and sidestepping the saliva as every last alpha in the club came sniffing. They were more than mere footwear; these stilettos represented freedom, power, and, little was Vallie aware, tremendous responsibility.

 

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“Okay then shoes. It’s just you and me now”

Vallie set them down carefully on her bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen to retrieve a chilled bottle of Becks and celebrate her new acquisition.

“Make yourselves at home. I’m just gonna slip into something more comfortable”

Conversations with her footwear weren’t unheard of in the seclusion of her own home; indeed she had dreamed up nicknames for many pairs. She had a pair of jelly wedges which she affectionately referred to as Elsbeth and Tamara, some winkle pickers from Milan named Alexandra and Petula, and a hundred or so other pairs each with their own identity. She hadn’t considered naming her new pair as yet; a couple of beers would help her gain inspiration although this particular pair seemed happy to remain ambiguous.

“Not very talkative are we? Tell you what, I’ll be back in two shakes and then we can get down to business. How does that sound? Good, won’t be a jiffy”

Melissa had once caught Vallie engaging in one-way conversation with a pair of burgundy flip-flops and had never let her live it down. If only she knew what happened behind closed doors. Right now, Vallie was sliding out of her stonewashed denims and clad only in a revealing silk slip. The whole place was filled with a dense cloud of Parisian perfume and an old Luther Vandross LP was to provide the soothing audio for this seduction. As she retrieved two cold beverages from the back of her refrigerator, she wiggled her perfectly painted toes in anticipation. It seemed ironic that she had painted them deep red this morning and all ten of them yearned to feel the soft fabric cradle them.

“Sorry I was so long. A girl’s got to look good for a big date you know. So what do you reckon? Do I look good?”

 

scarpe rosse

 

She slid both hands down her cleanly shaved legs and the back of her lingerie rose to reveal two peachy buttocks, which were especially voluptuous given that she was a size zero.

“Oh it’s my favorite. Never Too Much. I adore this song. Makes we wanna dance and lose all my inhibitions. You feel like dancing with little old me? Of course you do. Here, let meĀ  give you a hand”

The moment she touched her heels for the very first time, a wave of power washed over her, and she felt better than she had in years. There had been enough foreplay for the time being; now was the time to give these luxurious babies a thorough test drive. She grabbed a shoe-horn from her bedside dresser and slid both on in turn, exhaling as she did and feeling the electricity buzzing right through to her sopping haunch. Instantly, Vallie became light-headed and almost lost her footing as invisible flames shot up her calves, causing her to wince momentarily. As the pain leveled out, an overwhelming sense of pleasure caused every last nerve ending in her body to tingle.

“I feel fantastic. You make me feel fucking fantastic. Let’s go and get in some trouble together shall we? Tear shit up. You ready to do some walking?”

 

Click here to read Murder on The Dancefloor

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Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

 

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2015

 

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