Stu

We woke up late Sunday morning, still feeling a little blitzed over the events of the previous night. We knew Sharon and Jack were up in the room next to ours, as we could hear the shower going. Maria and I showered and got dressed. Maria put on a red tank stop, a pair of tight blue jeans, and four-inch wedge heels. It was pretty conservative attire by her standards, but the women had previously agreed that Sunday would be an informal day. Our plans were to drive around the lake and enjoy the outdoors, a pastime not really amenable to wearing heels.

We walked over, found Jack’s and Sharon’s door was ajar, and we knocked and went inside. Sharon, Jack, Ana and Bob were inside, and they broke into applause as we entered. “Here is the new Latin performing sensation, the one who really wowed them last night,” Jack said.

“Now hold on,” Maria objected. “What about Sharon’s magnificent exhibition of craps playing, and Ana seducing that poor vendor into selling us his tickets? There were a lot of memorable performances last night.” We all heartily agreed.

Sharon was looking at Maria and Ana, and was thinking about something. I was starting to learn that nobody in the room could consider themselves safe when Sharon was thinking. She was wearing a yellow spaghetti-string top, tight white jeans, and four-inch wedge heels very similar to Maria’s. Ana was wearing a white tank top, skintight black jeans, and a pair of three-inch block heels that did not do her justice.

“Yes, we all accomplished something special last night,” Sharon said. “I used to think that a wonderful accident of fate brought us all together, but now I am not so sure. I think destiny brought the six of us together from all over the world. We were meant to be a group of six. We were meant to do big things.” I could hear echoes of Sharon’s past, when she went through a stage where she was heavily into new-age philosophy.

“And your point is?” Bob asked.

“My point,” Sharon replied, “is that maybe we should not rest on our laurels. We have a lot of momentum going from last night, and maybe we ought to go with it. We should push ourselves today, and see what else destiny has in store for us.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Sharon?” I asked.

“I am trying to say this,” she said. She walked over to the closet, opened her shoe bag, took out her pair of black, 6-inch stiletto heels, and carried them back to where we were sitting. “I say we wear our six-inch heels today. Let’s just go for it all.”

A hushed silence fell over the six of us. All three women had indeed brought their 6-inch heels with them on this trip. They were intended as a backup, as something the ladies could wear in the privacy of our hotel rooms in case our Saturday night in the casino turned out to be a bore. Of course, they had not needed them.

Ana asked hesitatingly, “So, Sharon, are you suggesting we wear six-inch heels to breakfast? On a Sunday morning? What about after breakfast?”

“We wear them to breakfast. If we want to keep wearing them afterwards, then fine. If not, then we change. But we should do this. We need to do this.” She slipped off her wedge heels and, first with her right foot and then with her left, eased herself into her six-inch stilettos. Her whole body appeared to eroticize itself before our eyes – her legs grew long, her curves grew ever shapelier, and her erect posture became quite arousing.

“What do you think?” she asked us.

“I think you are right, Sharon,” Maria said. “One of my favorite English-language expressions is, ‘Work hard, play hard.’ We all work hard during the week. What is the point in coming up here on our big weekend if we don’t wear heels?”

Ana replied, “The only time we have worn 6-inch heels in public was when we were wearing long dresses and eating in a very exclusive restaurant. Today, we are all wearing form-fitting pants and we are at a casino that opens its doors to anyone. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Ana, I would not suggest this if we were at home,” Sharon said. “But nobody knows us here. What is the big deal?”

“OK, you sold me,” Ana said. Maria and Ana went back to their rooms and came back holding their 6-inch heels. They eased into them, with the same delightful effect we had seen with Sharon a few minutes earlier. The sight of these women in their extreme heels was almost overwhelming.

“I am hungry,” Sharon said. “Everyone ready for breakfast?”

As we left the hotel room and watched our ladies wiggle down the hallway to the elevator, Jack turned to Bob and me and said, “Gentlemen, we live in interesting times. Thank God.”

We rode the elevator down to the main casino and walked over to the restaurant area. I noticed two things almost immediately. First, I was impressed with how well all three of our ladies walked in 6-inch heels. The only time they had worn such extreme heels in public was several months earlier at a private country club restaurant. They all walked somewhat tentatively at that time. I knew that Maria had been wearing her 6-inchers around the house since that time and had gotten very proficient. It was obvious that Sharon and Ana had both been practicing in their heels as well. All three women walked fluidly and confidently, without any bent knees or momentary imbalances. They used the exaggerated movement of their hips and buttocks to propel themselves forward, making them quite a sight to see.

And that, of course, relates to my second observation. Wearing 5-1/2-inch heels with nice dresses in the casino on a Saturday night draws a very different reaction than wearing 6-inch heels and skintight pants in the same casino on a Sunday morning. The admiring glances that our ladies received from the casino’s patrons on Saturday night were replaced by looks of surprise, and even shock, from the patrons we walked past on Sunday morning. I was not the one wearing the heels, but the looks nevertheless made me feel a little uncomfortable, and caused me to ask myself exactly what it was the six of us were trying to say. The only thing that seemed to mitigate the reaction was Nevada’s anything-goes attitude. This was best epitomized by the middle-aged man at a slot machine who stared at us as we walked by, and then turned to his wife and said, “See, dear, we didn’t need to go to Las Vegas after all.”

We entered one of the restaurants, which was offering a breakfast buffet. We picked a table, and went over to the food counters to look at the offerings. We had only been there a minute when we heard a man say, “Ana, is that you?”

To be continued