A little unknowing footwork from my childhood.
When I was eight I was attracted to women's shoes. Well, one day my mom's friend Sue came over to use my mom's office, I think she was working on her resume, well needless to say while they initially chatted downstairs, I took the opportunity to hide under the desk. My heart was racing because Sue was coming from an interview so she was wearing a sharply tailored red suit with a short skirt and gorgeous red pumps. The had a slightly pointed toe and the heel was a thin 3" number that came to a sharp circular end. As they entered the office, I heard my mom say two things that made my heart race. One was, "I'll leave you alone, so take your time" and the other was "we are doing some re-arranging in here so there's junk piled everywhere, I would keep your shoes on". Sue said thanks and walked over to the desk, I could hear the leather squeek between muffled shuffle of the carpet. She sat in the chair and scooted in. The desk was deep enough and I was in enough shadow to be concealed, and because of the mess there was junk scattered all over the floor beneath the desk. Next to me was a small cardboard box that Sue immediately kicked with the toe of her shoe. Nothing, she didn't even look down. Suddenly she crossed her foot and planted her left "crossed" foot firmly on my face. She had one of those skid guards (like sandpaper) on the sole, and as she shifted it bit into the skin on my cheek. The heel lightly brushed against my chin. She didn't notice or care (I was just junk afterall). After a minute or so she began to swing the crossed leg and her left foot repeatedly struck my right cheek beneath my eye. I was afraid to move thinking she would notice the change and wonder what she was kicking. After several minutes she uncrossed her legs then stretched out, I tried to move but ended up on my back. Her stretched legs in those beautiful red heels landed on my chest, she recrossed her legs at the ankles and suddenly just her heels rested on my chest. This woman could not sit still, she started sliding her legs forwards and backwards, scratching and tearing open my shirt (and breaking the button) exposing my barechest, which now became the footstool for her brutal heels. As she continued to scratch my chest I could feel the welts swelling and a bit of blood on my chest. Quickly she shifted both of her feet (still crossed) onto my horrified face. I could smell the leather and the pain was nearly unbearable. I was too afraid to speak, but silently cried. The pain was so intense I started to sweat a cold sticky sweat. Finally she lifted the heel from my face, but slid it down to my mouth. The weight from her legs cracked into my teeth and forced her heel to slid between my lips cutting into my gums. I cried out, but still she didn't move. Then I saw it from past the beautiful and powerful red spiked 3" high heels...that jutted out of my mouth to the light past the desk, that cord looked familiar, then it hit me, that is my mom's walkman. She was listening to music and didn't hear me. She began to move her feet to the music and the pain was excruciating. For an hour and ten minutes she planted those red spike high heels on me and kicked, scratched, and stabbed me unknowingly. (I think?) It was an experience I'll never forget. After she left I snuck out and got cleaned up. My chest was full of scratches and heel marks, fortunately none of the face damage was of significance and my mother never knew. Thanks Sue.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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