after. How should I apply?’
I tell her she doesn’t have to apply. ‘Give it a trial period,’ I tell her. ‘A couple of weeks with full pay, and if it doesn’t work out, no spilt milk.’
Janey watches me for a moment, eyes slant in the sunlight, before we shake on it. ‘It’s like a miracle,’ she tells me. ‘Like this was meant to happen.’
And I feel a strange tingling inside.
Chapter Six
Meaningful Stilettos
Monday, 12 March
Well, my goodness, Kitten, what a day! First, old Gladys pops in holding a small purple bag – the type you get from a gift store – that matches her stunning silk blouse. She’s sorry, she tells me, about what she said the other day. ‘Belittled your passion, I did.’ She shakes her head. ‘What a haggard old bitch I am.’
‘Look, I know shoes aren’t deep like psychology,’ I grumble, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself saying,
Actually shoes are all about psychology.
Glads shakes her head. ‘I was a pig about it, lovey. And given the choice between Freud and some Karen Millen slingbacks, it wouldn’t be the doc who’d get my cash.’ Glads explains that when she was a kid, she was always pushed to be top of the class. She was the only girl, so she had to keep up with her brothers, who were told they had to be surgeons or psychiatrists and such. ‘I liked art best,’ she tells me, ‘but my parents didn’t care when I got good marks for my painting. “Who cares about paint?” they’d ask. It was horrible, really. And now, here I am, doing the same darn thing to you.’
‘Forgiven,’ I tell her, giving her a hug. And when we’re done with the hugging, she hands me the purple bag. ‘A make-up pressie,’ she says, but when I try to take the bag, she grabs my hand for a second and with big, excitable eyes whispers, ‘Open it alone.’
So I stashed it behind the counter, Kitten, but we had a run of customers, and Tanya, whose shift starts at twelve, only just arrived. So now, all intrigued, I get a minute to pop to the loo, and that’s where I dip down into the bag and pull out a purple gift box. On the lid of the box, in silver swirly print, are the words
Pandora’s Box: Erotic Boutique for Women.
I catch my breath, Kitten! I know exactly what this is!
Sure enough, inside the box, lodged in a silky layer, is a small, black, bullet-shaped vibrator. When I take it out and press the tiny button at the end it purrs and hums in my palm, and when I hold it against my skirt so that it vibrates through the fabric, it feels so good that I let out an instant moan. In a matter of moments, I’ve dialled Guy’s number and we’re dirty talking. ‘I’m on my knees, jerking off,’ he growls, ‘and you’re in those perfect shoes …’
‘Describe them,’ I say, slipping the buzzing thing up my skirt and between my thighs, where it feels deliciously good.
And do you know, Kitten, he
does
describe them, feature by feature. The platform sole, the stiletto heels, the cherry-coloured suede and the stockings I was wearing. Henry would never have been able to describe my shoes from memory! But soon Guy’s back to the fantasy, reminding me how I raised my skirt and touched my pussy in front of him. So I press the buzzing plastic hard against my briefs, letting my pussy drink up all the wonderful vibrations, and I find myself grinding against the purring toy, letting out a moan as I fall back against the tiling. ‘I’m gonna come all over your shoes,’ cries Guy, ‘all over your fucking shoes.’ And in my head I can see him doing just that, and I push the buzzing bullet right inside my briefs, against my slippery sex. Again I moan, but more loudly now, and I’m pushing the bullet inside myself, unable to stop as I grind against its pulsing. ‘Oh, God,’ I cry out as I begin to feel the heat of my climax, and suddenly Guy’s moaning, ‘All over your shoes, yes, all over them!’ and I fill with a perfect pleasure that makes me buck in spite of myself
I tell her she doesn’t have to apply. ‘Give it a trial period,’ I tell her. ‘A couple of weeks with full pay, and if it doesn’t work out, no spilt milk.’
Janey watches me for a moment, eyes slant in the sunlight, before we shake on it. ‘It’s like a miracle,’ she tells me. ‘Like this was meant to happen.’
And I feel a strange tingling inside.
Chapter Six
Meaningful Stilettos
Monday, 12 March
Well, my goodness, Kitten, what a day! First, old Gladys pops in holding a small purple bag – the type you get from a gift store – that matches her stunning silk blouse. She’s sorry, she tells me, about what she said the other day. ‘Belittled your passion, I did.’ She shakes her head. ‘What a haggard old bitch I am.’
‘Look, I know shoes aren’t deep like psychology,’ I grumble, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself saying,
Actually shoes are all about psychology.
Glads shakes her head. ‘I was a pig about it, lovey. And given the choice between Freud and some Karen Millen slingbacks, it wouldn’t be the doc who’d get my cash.’ Glads explains that when she was a kid, she was always pushed to be top of the class. She was the only girl, so she had to keep up with her brothers, who were told they had to be surgeons or psychiatrists and such. ‘I liked art best,’ she tells me, ‘but my parents didn’t care when I got good marks for my painting. “Who cares about paint?” they’d ask. It was horrible, really. And now, here I am, doing the same darn thing to you.’
‘Forgiven,’ I tell her, giving her a hug. And when we’re done with the hugging, she hands me the purple bag. ‘A make-up pressie,’ she says, but when I try to take the bag, she grabs my hand for a second and with big, excitable eyes whispers, ‘Open it alone.’
So I stashed it behind the counter, Kitten, but we had a run of customers, and Tanya, whose shift starts at twelve, only just arrived. So now, all intrigued, I get a minute to pop to the loo, and that’s where I dip down into the bag and pull out a purple gift box. On the lid of the box, in silver swirly print, are the words
Pandora’s Box: Erotic Boutique for Women.
I catch my breath, Kitten! I know exactly what this is!
Sure enough, inside the box, lodged in a silky layer, is a small, black, bullet-shaped vibrator. When I take it out and press the tiny button at the end it purrs and hums in my palm, and when I hold it against my skirt so that it vibrates through the fabric, it feels so good that I let out an instant moan. In a matter of moments, I’ve dialled Guy’s number and we’re dirty talking. ‘I’m on my knees, jerking off,’ he growls, ‘and you’re in those perfect shoes …’
‘Describe them,’ I say, slipping the buzzing thing up my skirt and between my thighs, where it feels deliciously good.
And do you know, Kitten, he
does
describe them, feature by feature. The platform sole, the stiletto heels, the cherry-coloured suede and the stockings I was wearing. Henry would never have been able to describe my shoes from memory! But soon Guy’s back to the fantasy, reminding me how I raised my skirt and touched my pussy in front of him. So I press the buzzing plastic hard against my briefs, letting my pussy drink up all the wonderful vibrations, and I find myself grinding against the purring toy, letting out a moan as I fall back against the tiling. ‘I’m gonna come all over your shoes,’ cries Guy, ‘all over your fucking shoes.’ And in my head I can see him doing just that, and I push the buzzing bullet right inside my briefs, against my slippery sex. Again I moan, but more loudly now, and I’m pushing the bullet inside myself, unable to stop as I grind against its pulsing. ‘Oh, God,’ I cry out as I begin to feel the heat of my climax, and suddenly Guy’s moaning, ‘All over your shoes, yes, all over them!’ and I fill with a perfect pleasure that makes me buck in spite of myself
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