Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story #8

Posted by Lucy on June 14, 2003, 2:56:19

Hi again everyone! A special greeting to Puffer and
Laser who've just joined the ever-growing gang of
responders to my stories (now well over twenty of
you!). It's very heartening to me to know how much
interest has been aroused by my stories, and
'Yes'Patience, I certainly AM enjoying re-living all
these high heel highlights - it reminds me just how
much real enjoyment I've had from wearing high heels
over the years (and counting!). Thank you also to
Scuffy and Stu for their latest kind words. I'm
flattered that several of you have asked if the site's
moderators can save my entire story in Jenny's Stories
section. As an alternative, if you would like to keep
my episodes yourself(they will soon drop off the
bottom of this message-board to be lost for all time),
why not simply print them out on your printer, and
then assemble the set in a folder? Well, to resume the
story:
On the way back from Regent shoes and our wonderful
day in London, Velma and I kept on our fantastic new 4
3/4" stiletto-heeled 'Alps'all the way home. When we
walked from the taxi into Victoria Station, the guard
was about to blow his whistle for our Surrey train to
depart, so we had to run the last forty yards up the
platform. Our two pairs of steel heel-tips made a
tremendous clicking and clacking on the platform and
it seemed that every one of the countless people in
the station paused to stare in fascination at these
two seventeen-year-olds trying to run (very
awkwardly!)in their new ultra-high stilettos. Somehow
we just made it and tumbled into our compartment.
Opposite to Velma and me sat a little girl and her
mother. Throughout the journey, the girl couldn't take
her eyes off our rapier-thin high heels,and she talked
about them incessantly in a very loud, high-pitched
voice that demanded everyone's attention of all
dozen-or-so passengers in the compartment. "Mum, look
at those ever-such high heels those ladies are
wearing...How can they walk in them?...Why don't they
tip over? ....Will I have to wear those things when I
grow up?....You don't wear ones like that do you Mum!
.... Mum, are you going to tell those ladies their
shoes are very silly?....blah, blah, blather, blather,
bleh, bleh. By this time, everyone in the compartment
wass leaning forward to examine our 'silly' shoes in
the minutest detail. For the next few minutes we felt
utterly wretched, but when we got off at our town
station, a young man who had been in our compartment
cheered us up no end by saying shyly that the little
brat deserved a hefty smack in the teeth, and that our
'smashing' shoes were by far the best thing he had
seen in his entire life and he hoped we didn't mind
him telling us! Did we MIND? We were instantly
overjoyed and could have hugged him with glee. Leaving
London and our town station behind us, Velma and I
were now walking alone in empty streets for the first
time, on the final stretch to our homes. With no-one
looking, we then began really ENJOYING our new
ultra-high-heel walking experience to the full. We
giggled away as we tried first mincing little steps,
then great long strides (which proved impossible),
then doing deliberate exaggerated heel-wobbling (very
treacherous in that height) in a fun imitation of
Dorothy (Mummy's cleaning lady), until finally walking
the last quarter-mile both doing a fun 'Catwalk Flip'
of our stilettos to emulate those exotic models that
we had seen at the modelling school. It was all so
wonderful and exhilarating that neither of us noticed
the pressure-pain in our toes that had been building
up until we reached our homes. Of course, being brand
new shoes, I hadn't yet put the papier mache in the
shoes' pointed toes to stop my toes being rammed
forward into them! Velma's shoes were also a little
narrow for fer feet, so the next day packed the
toe-points of Velma's pair and mine, and showed her
the old shoe-repairers' trick of stuffing the interior
with fresh, moist potato peelings until the leather is
soft enough to be stretched by pressing it down on to
the rounded top of a broom-handle. Of course,these
days the potato peelings have been superseded by a
shoe-stretching aerosol spray-can.
As the commercial course went on, I became great
friends with Velma, and in the Easter holidays we
decided on a second trip to London. Velma had a new
London boyfriend Mick who was an attendant at one of
the big London art galleries. As we went
click-clicking in to visit him at work, he pointed to
a sign saying that stiletto heels must not damage the
maple-wood floor and that rubber heel-covers must be
fitted. Mick had a huge grin on his face as he offered
to fit them to our shoes, the rubber ferrules pushing
about an inch up over the stilleto heels. What we
didn't know was that he was a shameless practical
joker. He explained afterwards that he always got a
fantastic kick seeing a visiting ladies teetering
around the gallery on very high heels, and he could
not resist making their heels even higher by slyly
inserting a 1/2" dowel of wood into each heel cover
before pushing them on the the shoes. Teetery ladies
would teeter even more, being pitched even further
forward than usual, and we found ourselves struggling
round in the same way without realising what was
really happening! When Mick finally proudly told us
about his great prank, Velmas and I thought it was
hilarous and brilliant, but sadly a few weeks later
Mick got the sack because an American lady discovered
what Mick was doing and got him the sack! After that
he got a job in an Oxford Street shoe shop and had a
super time persuading wavering girls to live
dangerously and buy something nice and high!
More Soon! Love, Lucy.