Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (26)
Posted by Lucy on September 23, 2003, 3:41:17

Hi Everyone, and especially to those who kindly responded to my Story No. 25 - Erica, Fred, Sinkem, Steve and Stu. Here is Instalment 26, written on 23rd September 2003:
As Velma had predicted, my very sexy new 5" black patent stiletto heeled courts with the very low-cut uppers and toes caused somewhat of a sensation on the first day that I wore them at work. It was the first day that I had worn anything that high during business hours. They felt indescribably great on my feet. In fact, it gave me so much pleasure teetering around the desks and from office to office in them all day, that I found it quite difficult to concentrate on my work! Although now well-used to my various high-heeled 'Alps' shoes, the extra bit of heel-height of the new 5" heels sent a new muscle-tension rippling of through my body as I stood and as I walked. It was so EXCITING to feel that I could spend my business life in such heels, and go back and forth and everywhere looking and feeling so fantastic! Whenever I stood in discussion with anybody, I found myself tilting my heels gently to left to right to left to right just to remind myself that I really was in such ultra-high deliciously precarious heels. Most of the other office girls had noticed how stunning they were, and what a dramatic effect they had been having on the male staff. Apparently one or to of the bolder fellas had started going up to some of the girls and asking "Any chance of turning up in shoes like Lucy's?". As I have already said, a number of the girls had sidled up to me individually and asked where such high stilettos could be purchased. It was extremely flattering and also rather sweet. Hey Presto! well within a week, several of them must have been over to Regent Shoes for they started click-click-clicking into work in the same model of 5" heels! For the most part they looked really great - such high heels transformed them all! I could see that despite trying to keep up appearances, the firm's fellas were over the moon! They couldn't believe what was happening in their very own office complex! Suddenly the place was alive with high stiletto godesses (like Laurie!) tottering to and fro. Those shoes made all the wearers feel like a million dollars, and they all thanked me as the morning wore on. In a very nice way, it sort of brought us all closer together as a little group of about six, having something in common. Maud joked that we were the "Five-Inch Club", and the name stuck for a long,long time. She suggested that during the lunch-break, we should all treat the good citizens of London to our new heels and totter around into Shaftsbury Avenue for an inaugural lunch. As the lunch-hour began, the six of us all clicked and clacked across the marble foyer on our way out. We must have been quite a sight! No-one wore jeans or trousers to business in those days, only skirts and stockings. As we burst out on to Holborn's pavement (sidewalk), the passers-by became transfixed as they watched six business girls mincing towards Shaftsbury Avenue in identical shiny patent leather 5" stiletto heels, grinning away to each other and enjoying every moment. Remembering that all of the others were not particularly experienced high heel wearers, there were a good few heel-scrapes, wobbles and tilt-overs. Whenever someone's heel threw them off balance or one of our heels got stuck between paving slabs, a mini cheer erupted from the rest of us followed by gales of good-natured laughter. It was such enormous fun that I've remembered it with great fondness right to this day! A high-spirited lunch was followed by our return walk back for the afternoon's business. By this time the less experienced heel-wearers had started struggling a bit, the strain of being pitched up so high starting to show on their taut faces. Nevertheless, thay all gamely made their way back without anyone toppling over. Just as we were making away back across the foyer,who should come clicking into the building behind us but the prim and disapproving receptionist, now in her own pair of identical brand-new five-inchers! She was not managing at all well in them and, catching sight of the rest of us, she went all embarrassed, blushed furiously, took her heels off and suffered the indignity of pattering the rest of the way over the black marble floor to her vreception desk in her stockinged feet. Once back at their own office desks, the other girls could sit down and relax their feet. All except Freda that is - the young lady from the mailing department. Her job entailed constantly going around the entire building to collect mail for franking and processing. As the afternoon wore on she was very obviously suffering from sole-burn and general fatigue, but she gamely battled on in her pair to the end of the day, and still managed a smile whenever she passed me. Nearly all of the girls in the 5" Club became ardent converts to high stilettos having experienced that first taste of the thrill of wearing them, and observed the resultant impact on their colleagues, especially the fellas! However, none of them had the special extra opportunity of wearing them all over London, which was a large part of my early duties, and which gave rise to resultant adventures.

More soon! Love, Lucy.

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (27)
Posted by Lucy on October 8, 2003, 23:52:42

Hi everyone! Thankyou for the simply overwhelming response to my Instalment 26! John, Fred, Erica, Jim, Stu and Sinkem all posted very interesting responses (several from some of them), and as always, trusty Spikesfan duplicated the instalment over on to MegaForums to join the other instalments as a permanent archive. Thank you Spikesfan. Well, I'm starting Instalment No. 27 on 8th October 2003, and here it is:
Do you remember Mick, Velma's boyfriend? He was the one who played a prank on the art gallery visitors by making the rubber floor-protecting heel-covers higher than they really were. He eventually got the sack for carrying on that hilarious trick once to often, and then promptly got a shoe salesman's job in a big Oxford Street shoe shop. Well, once we had all moved to our London house, Velma was able to see much more of Mick, which was great for her. Also, sometimes Velma, Madeline and I would go shopping in Oxford street on Saturdays (our day off) and would visit Mick's shop to see him in full swing. As a good-looking guy, he was very popular with the shoe-buying girl customers, but he hadn't lost his sense of humour. If a very meek girl came in asking for little 2" kitten heels, he would deliberately emerge from the back carrying the highest pair of heels in the entire shop to the utter horror of the victim, but then he would say "Only joking!" and bring out the correct low pair from behind his back to the young lady's intense relief. Conversly, If a daring young lady asked for the highest heels in the shop, he'd have fun by keeping those behind his back and first offering them hopelessly low almost flat shoes to enjoy the expression on their face! Whenever one of his customers had just donned a pair a really high heels, he would look ultra-serious and say "Just check the heel-height by seeing whether you can walk right around the shop two or three times on tip-toe without letting either heel touch the carpet". He and we were inwardly chuckling merrily whilst the customer went round and round carrying out this charade. Another one was "You need to make sure you can balance on one leg for three or four minutes". At the end, he would again say "Only joking" in such a warm and friendy way that the girls loved it, and often came back before long to buy more shoes from him! Another of his favourite japes was to bring out two subtly mis-matched shoes. He would let them try a 3 1/2" heel on one foot and hand them a similar-looking style but in a 4" heel on the other foot, and enjoy watching them bobbing up and down in bewilderment. Or he would bring out a pair in the same style as each other, but with one shoe being one size smaller, and watch the customer trying to force it on! In every case he carried it off with such good humour that he succeeded in making them share the joke. Apparently a ghastly matronly lady had bought a pair of 4 1/2" heels the week before, especially to wear them to her cocktail party. Even when she came back whilst we were there and said disparagingly "I can't get on with these absolutely dreadful high stilts - I want my money back!", Mick handled her with the utmost grace and charm, and eventually succeeded in getting her to exchange them for a pair of lower heels rather than losing the sale altogether. Quite often, Velma invited Mick back to our New Cross house. We had some hilarious and also very interesting evenings as Mick regaled us with stories of his shoe-shop experiences. He always got particularly enthusiastic when groups of two or three or more ladies came in to getted fitted-out with identically matching high-heeled shoes. Apparently this happened surprising often, being necessary for stage performers (singers, dancers etc.) and also for air hostesses, cinema usherettes and other types of staff who were expected to wear identical uniforms. According to Mick, the interesting thing in that situation was the different reactions from different girls to the same model of shoe. If one girl liked say, a shoe with a 3 1/2" heel, one or two of the group would say it was "Much too high" whilst another girl would usually say it was "Far too low". Eventually a compromise concensus would be agreed, but sometimes resulting in one or two girls struggling with the chosen height, with others looking disgruntled at how low and easy-to-wear the same height was! The most extreme example of this was apparently when a twenty-strong ladies choir from Wales arrived in London to give a concert at the Wigmore Hall (near Oxford Street). At the mid-day rehearsal, the conductor had noticed how varied and ill matched their footwear was, ranging from stodgy flat lace-ups to mocassins to stack-heeled brogues. Hence it was agreed that they would all visit Mick's shop together, to see if they could find twenty matching pairs of smart, black shoes in all of their respective sizes "Say, about 2 1/2" heels?". As it turned out, after scouring through just about style in the shop, Mick found that the only model available in sufficient quantities to suite all their sizes was a shiny black patent plain leather court with a 9cm (a little under 4") stiletto heel. Again, some of the women looked very excited about the prospect of wearing those, whilst a handful were totally aghast! Anyway, in the end it was "Take it or leave it" because no other style was available in sufficient quantity. After Mike had succeeded in getting all 20 of them fitted-out (with one or two of them muttering that they had 'Never worn high heels before in their lives'), they finally looked at themselves in the shop's mirrors, and every one of them had to admit that they did look extremely smart and attractive. At the leader of the choir's suggestion, they all decided to leave their new heels on for the short walk back to the Wigmore Hall 'To get accustomed to them before the concert'. Mick said it was an incredible sight to see twenty ladies in shiny black brand-new unfamiliar stilettos heels all suddenly flood out into Oxford Street and make their way back up to the hall. All the clickety-clicking sounded like a bunch of horses cantering by! After singing in their concert, the choir must have stayed the night in London because the following morning several of the Welsh ladies came back into the shop in ones and twos asking to see Mick. Two of them said that although they had always been to timid to wear high heels before, it was WONDERFUL, and could they buy extra pairs of different styles for their own individual wearing. One even bought a pair of 4 1/2" heels "To please my husband"! Another lady said stilettos were too wobbly to wear in the choir's future concerts, so could Mick find her a similar style but with a thicker, more stable heel. Blade-heels did not exist in those days, but Mick found her some with waisted Louis heels for greater stability. Another lady brought her standard-issue stilettos back and was about to ask for a lower heel, when she had another look in ther shop's mirror at herself and decided at the last minute that the issued 9cm stilettos looked to good on her that she decided to keep them and persevere in getting used to them. Of course, some years after that, things changed in the world of pop groups etc. so that these days most singers etc. have co-ordinated but not identical clothes and shoes. however, in those days people adhered stricty to identical uniforms for certain things, so it did give rise to certain problems when those groups, choirs etc. were all expected to wear identical heels! I'd love to have seen all twenty of those ladies walking to the Wigmore hall in their matching skirts and their new, matching high heels! More soon!

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (2
Posted by Lucy on October 30, 2003, 22:23:14

Hi everyone! Sorry that this instalment has taken a while - things have been very busy at business! In the meantime though, thank you Spikesfan, Laurie and Stu for suggestions re. the eventual publication of these instalmants of my story as a complete book! This is my instalment No. 28 written on 30th October 2003:
By the autumn of 1963 I had started seeing a nice boyfriend called Charles, a trainee London accountant. One weekend before the bad weather set in he invited me on a day-trip to Brighton on England's South coast. Neither of us drove, so we went by train. I wore a nice fawn-coloured dress and my latest pair of high-heeled shoes. They were gorgeous! They were dark-brown leather with slightly 'waisted' 4 1/2" heels which got very thin half-way down and then flared out slightly to about 1/2" diameter at the steel tips at the bottom. They were low-cut courts, and the toe-part of the vamp had a saucy open slit about 1" long running forward for towards the pointed toe, dividing the toe-upper into two, revealing what they now call some "toe cleavage". The leather was as soft a silk and caressed my feet to perfection! Charles was the perfect gentleman. Upon reaching Brighton, we started off with a visit to the wonderful Brighton Pavilion, with Charles opening all the doors for me to pass through(Click, click, click!). After a super lunch he suggested that we take a stroll up one of the two famous Brighton Piers, and I unknowingly agreed. Within moments of setting foot on the pier, OH! One of my high heels had gone down between the wooden planks of the pier and had stuck! Ever the gentleman, sweet Charles bent down and pulled at my shoe. The bottom of my heel flared out sufficiently not only to get stuck in the gap, but to make it very difficult to pull out again. Eventually he managed, and placed the shoe on the pier where it swaying from side to side waiting for me re-insert my foot into it. The thrill of putting on any very high-heeled shoe has never left me, so as I stood there in the sea breeze steadying myself by holding on to the shoulder of the kneeling Charles, it was a sexy moment for me as my foot slid down again into the so-soft leather. Giving him a "thank you" kiss, I held his hand as we resumed our perambulation along the pier, but within moments "Uh!" - my other heel had sunk into the pier and pulled off my foot. The faithful Charles again gallantly kneeled down, extricated the high heel from the boards and proferred it to my naked foot. This time I found myself enjoyed inserting my foot even more than the first time as he gripped the shoe to steady it. Needless to say, it soon happened a third time and I thought I noticed that Charles was starting to hold my rescued shoe more caressingly and intensely this time. However, he said "Look, should we not abandon this idea, the cracks in the pier are starting to scuff and scrape the leather on your wonderful high heels!". By now I was secretly enjoying myself more and more. All Charles' bending-down and fuss and attention and the foot-inserting was far outweighing the scuffing of my high heels, which I could always get re-covered. "No" I said, "Don't let my silly shoes spoil our walk to the very end of this famous pier and back!". Thus we continued, inevitably with the heel sinking and being rescued ritual being performed time after time after time. I have never forgotten it because it was having a strangely erotic and growing effect on me that I've never quite understood. Having to manipulate my high heels out of the cracks every few paces, and continuously offer them on to my feet, Charles appeared to be getting similarly aroused and flushed. Some onlookers were most amused by my high heels continuously getting stuck, but Charles was too involved in the whole thing to notice! By the time we reached the sheltered seating at the end of the pier, Charles and I were so aroused by those shared high heel sensations that we flung ourselves into the most passionate embrace that we had ever had! The only thing that cut this short was the pull of repeating the sensations on the way back down the pier again! You'd think getting a heel stuck would be irritating, but with Charles acting the perfect gentleman each time, It was all so sensuous! I don't know which of us enjoyed the whole thing more! In fact, it was somewhat with reluctance that we both approached "Dry land" once more and saw the heel-sinking coming to an end. However, as we stepped from the wooden planking back on to Brighton's hard pavements, a fresh sensation became apparent to me. When the plank-cracks had constantly yanked-off both shoes from my feet, the pulling must have stretched or distorted my shoes because they no longer gripped the back of my feet, instead slopping off-and-on, off-and-on. Because the toes of the courts had that open slit running half-way down them, they didn't grip my toes nearly as well as most court shoes, only the very last bit of the upper at the point of the toe remaining to give any grip. This allowed both shoes to swing hugely off-and-on my feet with every place I took. Being used to maintain ultra-smart standard with the high heels I work to the office, this felt slovenly, but as I adjusted to the sensation, increasingly erotic, especially as I became aware of Charles being hypnotised afresh by the wildly provocative slapping and slopping of those far-from-dull high heels! There was so little toe-grip that now and again one or the other would fall off altogether as I walked, and once more Charles would stoop down, rescue it and slide it back on to my foot. He was loving it! So was I! It was one of those memorable days that we both wished would never end! As we returned to London together, tired, somewhat footsore but ecstatically happy, we both agreed how dull the day would have been had I not worn those very special waisted-heel shoes!

I promised Sinkem (loyal fan of my stories) that I would include a few more of my sinking-in-heels memories at some stage, but that's all for now.
More Soon!

Love Lucy.

Anonymous

Lucy's Story (28a) - Corns!
Posted by Lucy on November 27, 2003, 2:02:34

Hi Everyone! Another big "Thank you" to Spikesfan for copying-across my Instalment No. 28 on to MegaForums, and also to the kind responders to that instalment - Paul, Puffer, John, Stu and Sinkem.
Before proceeding with Instalment 29 of my life in high heels, I am pausing to address the heel-wearer's perennial subject of CORNS! Around about Instalment 24 I devoted a similar instalments to bunions, tendons etc. A few days ago Tammy Lyn posted re. her corn problems, and Anita C., Erica, Meg-Ann and Cheryl responded. Here's my offering, which I'm calling Instalment No. 28a:

HARD CORNS are caused by the pressure and/or rubbing of tight shoes over boney prominences. The commonest places for high heel wearers are on the outside of the little toe (particularly when the shoe's toe is pointed!), on the tops of the toes on the backs of the heels, and sometimes on the surface of bunions. Nature responds to pressure by growing more protective skin in that localised area. The new skin forms from the inside, following which the outer layers thicken, harden and die, forming a thick, dry, hard layer (the corn) which usually compounds the problem by adding to the pressure suffered by the underlying nerves. Instead of being a healthy pink colour, this thick, dead skin is usually a "dead" looking white, grey, yellow or brown colour and is occasionally cracky or flakey. Sometimes a "core" (often erroneously called a "root") forms in the middle of the corn. This is a cone-shaped core extends downwards into the foot, and is an extension of the same hard, dead skin which cannot build upwards due to the constriction of the shoe, so it penetrates downwards into the foot causing the nucleus of the pain.

CURE 1: Thoroughly soften the corny skin by having a long shower, or better still a long soak in the bath or in a footbath. Then remove all the corny skin. Chiropodists use a scalpel. However, this is dangerous for the amateur because you must stop the moment you come to the healthy pink, rubbery living skin undeneath otherwise you will cut yourself and draw blood. I minimise this risk by using (in the UK) Boots Chemist's own brand of scalpel which has a metal guard which slightly arcs and shields the scalpel-blade and has a plastic handle. Even with this it is possible to give yourself thge odd nick, so most podetricians recommend amateurs to stick to the safety of a pumice-stone to remove the corn. The trouble with pumice stones can be that the rubbing action aggravates the already painful area of the corn and can do as much harm as good.
Once all of the dead, corny skin is removed, never let it build up again, so repeat the process very frequestly - little and often!

Don't use corn plasters. These doughnut-shaped plasters remove pressure from the original corn, but the pressure is transferred to the surrounding area and also the repeated application of adhesive damages the surrounding skin. Also, they can cause ulcers to diabetics.

CURE 2: Discard shoes of hard, unyielding leather and only wear gorgeously soft leather, well-fitting shoes with sufficient width in the toe box and overall length. If your shoes are of good, soft quality but simply a little narrow, then stretch them as described in my earlier footcare instalments.

CURE 3: Inflammation can be treated with anti-inflammatory medications. Frequent applications of proprietory heel balm can also help. If infection has set in, medically prescribed antibiotics taken by mouth are much more effective than trying to rub-on anti-inflammatory ointment.

CALLUSES A corn on the sole of the foot is called a callus, and can cover a greater area than the corns described above.

CURE 1: These are also removed by trimming with a scalpel, but this should not be attempted by the victim because you can't see what you're doing! Only a chiropodist should tackle calluses.

CURE 2: Sometimes calluses are treated by applying a remedy containing a special acid which is designed to burn-away the dead, callused skin whilst leaving the healthy, living skin intact.

CURE 3: Various silicone pads and orthopaedic insoles are sometimes recommended.

SOFT CORNS These take the form of moist, white skin between the toes, particularly between the fourth and fifth toes. These can be particularly painful and hard to deal with, sometimes turning into raw ulcers.

CURE 1: Keep soft corns well ventilated (bare feet, open sandals etc) but warm.

CURE 2: prevent rubbing and chafing by inserting soft spong-rubber cushions between the toes.

CURE 3: Antibiotics taken by mouth, and/or antibiotic cream applied between the toes. Professional advice from a doctor is advised if soft corns give cause for concern.

All high-heel wearers are advised to take the utmost care of their feet! Don't forget - only wear soft leather well-fitting shoes, treat your feet "little and often", and seek medical assistance if ulceration or infection in present.

I hope this advice assists you all in much happy trouble-free high-heel-wearing! It has certainly stood me in good stead for many memorable years.

More soon,

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (29)
Posted by Lucy on December 7, 2003, 17:46:21

Hi Everyone! Thank you to Erica for responding to my Instalment No. 28a (Corns!) and to Eva for expanding and clarifying one of my points. And of course, a special thank you, as always, to dear Spikesfan for gallantly copying-across No. 28a on to Megaforums. Since you started preserving my stories there, I see they have now had nearly 2,000 visits! Apologies for the recent sparsity of my instalments – I’ve never known such a busy autumn at my business! Anyway, here we go with Instalment No. 29:
1963 was my first year living and working in London, and as the autumn grew colder and wetter, my flat-mates Velma and Madeline both asked me why I didn’t own any boots. I just didn’t! Probably because I just loved wearing my “Alps” and other stiletto court shoes everywhere so much. The previous winter of 1962/3 had been the worst since 1947, with interminable snow, ice and constant cold. However, I hadn’t needed boots then because it was only a few hundred yards daily walk in my stilettos along the cleared pavements and I reached the Business Academy. But the much larger amount of walking now needed in London was a different matter and I had already slipped badly on some icy patches more than once. Just by chance, Mummy rang up from my parents' Surrey town and said “Loo, I need some new boots. If I come up on the train this Saturday, will you take me to those nice London shoe shops you keep talking about?”. I duly met Mummy at Charing Cross and thinking we could both search for boots together, I eagerly found a taxi to take us straight to my beloved Regent Shoes in Wardour Street. Although Mummy has always been a most ardent fan of heeled shoes, she looked in consternation at the great selection of boots and said “But they’ve all got high heels! Where are the practical flat ones?” I was aghast! I couldn’t believe it was my very own Mummy saying this! She continued “Much as I love my shoes to have high stilettos for parties, special occasions and even for ordinary outdoor summer wear, boots are a different matter. They are practical items and should have flat, stout soles for good grip and a warm, comfy upper and leg!”. I could have sat down and cried at such a humiliating notion, and it was one of the few times in my life when I found myself totally at odds with Mummy – I could have throttled her! But instead I stoically put on a forced smile and steered her away from Regent Shoes gorgeously exotic boots and flagged down another taxi to Mike’s more general shoe shop in Oxford Street. Velma’s boyfriend Mike was a genius with all the ladies! He winked at me and craftily brought out and armload of all the WORST and frumpiest pairs of flat boots to show Mummy. Some had ghastly elasticated sides, other had awful sagging legs that furled around Mummy’s ankles and others looked only fit for mucking-out the dung on a farm. “Well” said Mummy “Maybe a teeny bit of a heel would save them from looking too awfully clumpy”. Mike winked at me again and came back with a stout pair of hide boots with the most DREADFUL clunky 2” heels I’d ever seen. “Oh no!” said Mummy “Perhaps the heel could stand being a bit higher and slimmer than that”. Eventually, Mummy chose a pair of passably elegant brown leather boots with fairly slim 3” stacked-heel knee-boots that she ended up being so delighted with, that she suggested I should plump for the same model as well. I tried them on to show willing, but after wearing very high-heeled shoes every day, I knew that 3” heels would feel almost as dowdy as flatties. Mummy’s consternation returned as I organised a return taxi to good old Regent Shoes, where I had spotted some super knee boots with the 4 ¾” “Alps” stiletto heel. “Sorry” said the assistant “None available in your size at present, but wait a minute!, we do have a superb pair of our custom-made boots just declined by an esteemed lady customer because we made them in the wrong colour. A wonderful boot, but the heel could well be too high for you at 5 ½ inches?” “5 ½ inches!” I gasped. I had never owned any shoes with heels over 5”, let alone boots! Mummy had started scowling in disapproval! “Well” I said tentatively “Maybe I could just have the tiniest peep?”. Oh! They were BREATHTAKING!!!!! Gorgeously thin, thin, thin, soft, soft, soft bottle green leather throughout, and the heels! – high, high, high needle-thin 5 ½” rapiers in a shiny rich dark-brown finish with copper-coloured metal tips. They reminded me of the heel-height that I had seen “Cleopatra” wearing in that very same shop and later when she won the beauty queen contest. “You can’t possibly hope to travel to work and back on those heels Lucy” snapped Mummy (she never called me “Loo” when she was miffed!). “Perhaps not” I murmered “But I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!”. I slipped my feet into them, zipped-up the long zips, tingled at the voluptuous feel of the kid leather enveloping my feet and legs, and gingerly stood up. Wham! I’d never felt a heel-thrust like it! Looking in the mirror, I saw that my insteps had been pushed right past the vertical! Oooops! Steady! Talk about precarious! It took virtually all of my muscle-power to adjust my body against pitching forwards on to my face! “There you are!” said Mummy “You can’t hope to walk properly. Let’s leave it.”. But I had GOT to have them! I needed them more than anything else in the world! What could I do?

Yes! Eureka! I tried-on and quickly bought a pair of much cheaper black boots with with a comparatively modest 110mm (4 1/4") stiletto heel
for "everyday" winter wear, I told Mummy I was also having the voluptuous 5 1/2 inchers to "Spoil myself". I had to make sure she couldn't see just how much of my earnings I was having to pay at the cash desk!

However, the combination of the gloriously soft green leather and the gloriously high,high heels felt so heavenly that I could not bring myself to take them off, so I made the mistake of wearing the 5 1/2 inchers out of the shop. Before we even reached Leicester Square I realised that walking in that new height was so difficult! I had to go so slowly and take such small steps. And I couldn't suddenly stop! Due to the heel height, The toes of my new boots were somewhat tucked under my insteps instead of sticking out in front, so there was nothing there to plant forward if I wanted to avoid getting run over! It was a whole new challenge. Mummy also pointed out that I was having difficulty keeping both stiletto heels upright as I walked, with a triumphant "I told you so" tone of voice. "Well, give me a chance" I said, "It's my first time, and I haven't had any practice at home yet!".

When I proudly showed Velma and Madeline my two new pairs of boots, they said the green ones were "Unbelievable!". Trouble was, as usual, Madeline had them on her own feet in seconds!

Over the coming weeks, I was determined that I would master those incredible boots, and in the meantime I wore my other new black 4 1/4" stiletto boots to work every day, changing into my higher "indoor" court shoes when I got to business. The harder leather of the cheap pair of boots was unpleasant to walk in at first, because it was too stiff. It held my ankles immobile like a straight-jacket, whereas I like to "live" in my heels and feel them moving and swaying under me as I glide around. Mike suggested softening the boots by rubbing-in Neatsfoot Oil throughout - a good tip! It worked wonders, causing that pretty stiff leather to become so much better that it felt almost as soft as my very expensive bottle-green boots. Now I could really enjoy the feel of the heels on both pairs of new boots!

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (30)
Posted by Lucy on December 10, 2003, 9:10:38

Hi Everyone! And what a super set of responses to my Instalment No. 29! It was so kind of Sinkem, Paul, Heelman, Stu and Laser. And such interesting comments – Thank you! To be surrounded by so many keen guys (even via cyberspace) at my age makes me feel that life is just beginning again! Still, I suppose I’m only a little older than Lulu, and she’s a great high heeled girl still going from strength to strength! So let’s get on with more of my reminiscences with my Story Instalment No. 30:
Christmas 1963 was fast approaching; my first since starting work in London. My boss Ricky Everson handed each of us a letter from the managing director inviting us all to the firm’s staff Christmas party. It was to be held at the prestigious Connaught Rooms in Piccadilly in mid-December! We girls asked Ricky if we could bring guests, but he said sadly not because all the staff from the various London branches were also invited, and it would be a fairly massive attendance even without guests. “Well” I thought “Even without a guest, it will be a chance to rally-together our little ‘5-Inch Club’ including Maud, Freda and the rest to give the fellas some exciting shoes to look at!”.

The same day that I received my party invitation, Mummy telephoned. She never rang me at work unless it was something urgent. “Come down here on the train as soon as soon as you can” She said, “And bring those bizarre green stilts with you”. She meant my new bottle-green knee boots with the 5 ½” brown stiletto heels that she had disapprovingly seen me buy only a week before. She rang-off leaving me wondering what on earth was the matter. Were she and Daddy planning some ritual burning of my disgraceful boots on a ceremonial funeral pyre in their garden? Well, still mystified when Saturday came round, I dutifully caught the train down South through the countryside.

However, I didn’t travel wearing my maligned green boots because I had already ascertained that very frustratingly the 5 ½” heels were too high for me to wear out and about for any appreciable period of time. I have only got small size 5(UK) feet, and a 5 ½” high heel on me is in effect equivalent to at least a 6” heel on girls with larger feet! They felt very extreme. Instead I carried the green boots in a carrier bag and was met by Mummy at the railway station. Without any explanation she took me to the town’s most exclusive clothes shop, pointed at the window and said “Look Loo, a gorgeous leather coat in exactly the same bottle-green colour as your new boots! They’re just made for each other!” The coat looked like a million dollars! “But, but” I stammered, “I thought you didn’t like the boots”. “Loo” she said “Those boots are quite the most beautiful and fantastic that I’ve ever seen! When you first tried them on it was just that a twinge of jealousy overcame me because I can’t even get up into 5” heels let alone 5 ½”. I’m sorry if I went a bit ‘sour grapes’ at the time. But on you they looked out of this world, and having now spotted this matching coat, I couldn’t wait to tell you. It has even got a little brown fur trim on the collar matching the brown colour of the heels!”

In a trice I was inside to try on the coat. “Put your boots on first” said Mummy, so I changed into them, again feeling the upward thrust of those incredible heels and having to adjust my posture to retain balance. The coat fitted perfectly. It was meant to be! The colour match of the bottle-green leather was perfect, and so was the length, coming down just far enough to cover the tops of my knee-boots. The effect of those tall green boots extending down from the matching leather coat and culminating in the sky-high brown stiletto heels was utterly stunning! Quite magical! Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was really me! Even my dark red-brown hair and ruby-red lipstick were hugely complimented by the leather coat’s green colour.

The sales assistant and Mummy were both genuinely gobsmacked, and kept on looking me up and down from head to stilettos with their mouths open in admiration. At this point my bubble suddenly burst because I caught sight of the price ticket. “Oh, good grief” I wailed, “I could never afford this Mummy!”. “Happy Christmas Loo!” chuckled Mummy “Daddy and I agreed that if it fitted you, the coat would be your Christmas present!”. Before this had even sunk in enough for me to express any thanks, Mummy had paid in full for the coat and said “Come on Loo, keep the whole outfit on and come home with me to show Daddy!”.

One devastating problem! In the sheer excitement of admiring the overall effect and buying coat, I had quite overlooked tha fact that the 5 ½” stiletto heels had been proving too high for me to master for outdoor use. But how could I possibly take the boots off again just as Mummy had especially got me the wonderful matching coat? No way! So with my insteps forced past the vertical and every muscle in my body feeling as though it were stretched to its very limit, I gingerly teetered all the way along the High Street (getting countless stares and admiring glances) trying to keep up with Mummy who was veritably sailing along in her usual 4” stiletto courts. It was so challenging! The 5 ½” heels began to feel like 6” heels and then 7” heels and then 8” heels as my taut muscles got more and more tired. I really didn’t think I’d make it all the way to my parent’s front door, but somehow I did, although my calves and ankles felt trembly toward the end, and my whole body felt the strain.

Daddy opened the door to us, and I’d never seen his face look so impressed about anything! “Oh Loo!” he exclaimed “I’m speechless! You look TREMENDOUS! I’ve never seen you look so pretty or glamorous! Mummy had shown me the coat in ther shop window and had told me about your highest-ever heels, but what a combination!”.

Having thanked them from the bottom of my heart for that simply perfect coat, I staying with them long enough to enjoy one of Mummy’s lovely meals after which I excitedly told them about my invitation to the firm’s Christmas party in London. “Oh good” said Mummy “The perfect occasion for you to give your new coat and boots a proper debut journey from your place to the Connaught Rooms and back!”. . . . . . . . . Ulp!

More soon! Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (31)
Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 10:52:18

Hi again everyone! I’m overwhelmed by receiving an even bigger response than ever to my Instalment No. 30! It’s been so lovely to hear not just the odd word, but some very interesting in-depth responses from Spikesfan, Puffer, Paul, Sinkem, Heelman, Jim, Stu, Steve and Romu. Thank you all so much, and my special gratitude to Spikesfan for copying-across my last two Instalments to be saved for permanent viewing under “Stories” on MegaForums – now totalling 30 instalments covering 1956 to 1963! Well, straight on with my Instalment No. 31:
Late 1963 shot towards by like lightning as we approached the Saturday in mid-December on which my firm’s grand Christmas dinner-dance party was to be held. I was getting quite nervous about dressing sufficiently well, knowing that the eyes of all the firm’s most senior people would be on me and the other two trainee managers. The week before, I had already bought a new outfit especially. I had already got the “travelling there” combination (the amazing green boots with the 5 ½” heels and the matching coat from Mummy and Daddy), and now I had bought the evening dress and shoes. I had previously ordered the shoes to be especially made for by Regent shoes – plain courts with very low-cut upper and toe, the slimmest of 5” stiletto heels for dancing in, and a mirror-silver finish throughout. In Regent Street I had spotted the most stunning evening dress imaginable! Midnight blue velvet, with a plunging neckline, the thinnest of shoulder straps and a classic body-hugging line. Unconventionally, I had the floor-length dress altered to just-above-ankle-length as I could not bear my dazzling, flashing new shoes to be hidden from view!

I tried to plan everything. I would travel into central London wearing my green coat and (with some trepidation!) the matching mega-heeled boots. To save me carrying everything, My boss Ricky Everson kindly offered to take along my dress-bag containing my evening dress and shoes so that I could change into them upon arrival. To avoid my having to make a second long journey in those challenging boots, some friends of my parents had agreed to put me up for the night in their flat near Grosvenor Square, only a few streets away from the Connaught Rooms.

So, late afternoon on the big day I duly set out on my usual route from the top of Telegraph Hill towards the long, long steep descent of Pepys’ Road leading down to New Cross Railway Station. But Oh Dear! As the flat top of the hill gave way to the descent, my elated mood changed to growing helplessness and panic. In my excitement, I had overlooked the fact that I had never tried going steeply downhill in my new 5 ½” heeled boots. I COULDN’T DO IT! Not even slowly! The hill-aggravated heel-height was pitching my insteps/legs/body so far forwards over the sole of the shoes that there was insufficient toe-length ahead of me to stop me pitching forwards on my face! The geometry just wasn’t there! I was unexpectedly stuck – stranded a short way down the long house-lined descent clinging grimly to a gatepost to stay standing. There were no taxis, no telephone boxes, no people on that chilly, darkening afternoon. Help! I’d got no other footwear with me and I dare not be late. For a short stretch I even tried walking down backwards, using the hill to reduce rather than exaggerate the heel height as I’d seen a few girls doing in similar difficulties in the past. I’d never felt so ridiculous! To cap it all I’d not gone far like this when I backed smack! into the thick trunk of one of the pavement’s plane trees. This shook me up no end and reduced me to further despair. I had to take off my glasses and wipe away some tears.

In sheer desperation, I reluctantly resorted to my old trick which I had developed to help my go down short steep ramps and slopes in high heels – rolling my ankles inwards toward each other, inclining both stiletto heels inwards at about 45%. This markedly lessened the effective height of the heels and allowed me to carry on down the hill without being pitched forwards. It can be extremely humiliating being seen walking with one’s heels tilted right over like this, as I have seen other ladies do on occasions. I was particularly loath to do this to my new boots because I feared that that descending the full length of Telegraph Hill would distort them permanently, but I had no choice, I had to get there! The relief gained by tilting my heels like that was equivalent to changing-down into heels of about 4" instead of 5 1/2".

Thank goodness, this enabled me to reach the bottom of the hill without toppling over, and it was with enormous relief that I reached the oh-so- welcome flatness of New Cross Road and click-click-clicked along to catch my train to central London. Emerging from Charing Cross Station, during the final walk through Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, I was dismayed to find that my tilted-heel ruse had indeed caused some distortion to the boots, making the heels want to keep going inwards under me, even on the flat. However, at least I managed to keep them passably more upright than they had been, and if I am totally honest, the little bit of lean now seemingly imbued into the heels actually helped my cope with their extreme height for the remainder of the walk to the dinner-dance.

As I teetered past Gilbert’s famous statue of Eros, one of the many youths that always seemed to be sitting on the steps of the plinth bellowed a deafening “Cor, look lads, with the altitude of her heels, where’s her oxygen mask?”. Huge guffaws immediately rang round Piccadilly Circus which seemed to bring every eye for miles swivelling round upon me and my mega-heels. I went bright red and all I could think do was to try and keep my leaning heels as vertical and possible and to walk the final short stretch with as much dignity as I could muster.

As (at last) I entered the imposing foyer of the Connaught Rooms, a waiter immediately sprang forwards proferring a champagne-laden tray, and both Ricky Everson and the Mr. Graham the managing director were on hand to greet me with a courteous bow and kiss me on the hand. From the utter dejection of staggering down Telegraph Hill, I was instantly transformed into feeling like a duchess in a world of chandeliers and elegance! They both topped it off by saying that the finery of my green leather coat and boots made it seem as though royalty was sweeping in! I said jokingly “Hold on a minute, I haven’t even changed for the function yet!”.

Ricky gallantly steered me towards the ladies’ section in which I could change, and fetched the bag containing my dress and shoes. I couldn’t wait to slip into them. I washed, donned new undercothes, clipped some fresh new nylon stockings on to my suspenders, donned my fabulous new velvet dress. Those were the days when most ladies still wore “real” jewellery. I put on my diamond earrings and diamond brooch, and Mummy had loaned me her wonderful diamond necklace and diamond bracelet. My hair wasn’t overly long at the time, but I pulled it all up off the neck and ears into a little “bunlet”, secured with a delicate little diamond-mounted Victorian hair-clasp. I freshened-up my bright ruby-red lipstick and nails, and lastly (always lastly!) I slipped my feet into those brand new specially-made flashing silver 5” stiletto courts, adjusting myself to the feel of the new heels.

Oooh! So exciting! It seemed so strange and wrong-way-round to be changing down in height from outdoor to indoor heels (5 ½” to 5”), but the sheer beauty of those dazzling all-silver stiletto heeled shoes made me feel just like Cinderella at the ball! It was time to emerge!

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (32)
Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 15:39:49

I immediately loved the feel of my new all-silver court shoes. They had been so beautifully made for me by Regent Shoes using soft, top quality leather and their exotic pencil-thin 5” heels were perfectly set in relation to the shoe. Just before removing my glasses for the evening and entering the party, I checked myself in the mirror and could hardly believe it was me I was looking at! It was more like looking at a ravishing stranger from Paris-society fashion magazine!
As I entered, my shoes sank in and decadently wallowed around in the thick, luxurious carpet. A magnificent eight-piece society band was already playing as we mingled for pre-dinner cocktails and several of the fellas from our central office team were already making a beeline towards me. Just then, to my delight, Maud and Freda and the other three of four members of our informal “Five Inch Heel Club” arrived in force. They hadn’t let us down!

Even though I could only make out their shoes by shortsightedly peering through narrowed eyes, I could immediately see that ALL of them had put their very best and highest heels on, as we had excitedly plotted and schemed beforehand. Their dresses look gorgeous, ranging from black to purple to crimson to gold to white. All of them except me had their black shoes on – all the same 5” style from Regent Shoes! Although the fellas had seen some of those shoes before, they’d never seen them in their full glory with the lovely dresses and special party hairstyles and evening make-up. The fellas stopped short in their tracks and looked speechless! In fact, they all looked so smitten that they got quite embarrassed to walk the final few feet towards us to say hello!

Needless to say, the entire evening was hugely enjoyable and an enormous success. My only sadness was that it came and went so quickly. The time just whizzed away! When the entire assemblage was seated for dinner, I was placed next to department head Ricky Everson, with the managing director only three of four seats away. Ricky looked me up and down and said the most wonderful things. He turned out to be married to a lovely wife and to have three super children , but it didn’t stop him showering me with compliments. He said my dress sense was every bit as magnificent as my work contribution! He said my diamonds were like shining stars against the background of my midnight blue dress which he likened to the loveliest night sky. He looked at my red-brown hair and said it was reminiscent of a magical cloud reflecting the after-glow of a romantic sunset, and looked down at my silver 5” heels and said they were like two long, thin silver comets flashing their way through the inky darkness of the sky! I had never heard such romantic thoughts, and I’ve remembered those words right up until this day. “Lucky Mrs. Everson!” I murmured to myself as I tucked into the excellent Christmassy dinner that was now before us!

After the managing director’s inevitable speech welcoming all the contingents from the firm’s various branches throughout London and the suburbs, and praising everyone’s contribution to the success of the firm, the remnants of the meal were cleared away and the band changed up a gear from background music to signify that it was DANCING time! To my utter astonishment and disbelief, as the band struck up, the very first person that Mr. Graham chose to dance with was me! He shot over, asked me if I would care to do him the honour our joining him for the first dance, and off we went – first couple on the dance floor and sailing around like a galleon! Thank goodness that Mummy and Daddy were keen ballroom dancers and had nurtured me into the art. Mr. Graham, the perfect and dignified “City gent” with a military bearing and a pencil-thin moustache was a magnificent dancer despite his maturing years. Savouring the delicious feel of my new silver shoes and the gentle but so-assured lead of Mr. Graham, I allowed myself to be glided, spun, sashayed and cavorted around that wonderful ballroom. By the time the dance finished, I was in a euphoric dream, but became aware of a round of applause from the entire throng of nearly 200 guests! I thought they were just clapping Mr. Graham, but the bandleader was announcing “A well-deserved hand for the managing director and together with that young vision of loveliness!”.

Before the end of the evening, Mr. Graham beckoned me over to sit beside him for a moment. “Lucy my girl” he said, “You may not think you’ve seen much of me since I first interviewed you for the job. In fact, this must be the first time we’ve actually spoken since. But that hasn’t stopped excellent reports of your progress from reaching my office on a regular basis. I liked the look of you then, and I like the look of you now. It seems that your business skills are just as spectacular as your dancing skills and your unforgettable dress and shoe sense! You’re destined for big things in the firm. Don’t tell your two fellow trainees just yet, but as from the New Year there’s a spot of advance promotion for you! You’ve earned it. Mr. Everson will give you the details before Christmas. Oh, and thanks for the best dance I’ve had in years – you glide around in those shoes like an angel!”.

I couldn’t believe I was have such a wonderful evening in every sense. Luxurious dinner, surroundings and music, admiring and appreciative men and now some sort of job advancement! Just then my attention was drawn to the fellas and to the girls in our “Five-Inch Club” they wanted me to join their big circle formed to dance the “Hokey-Cokey”. Da-Da-Dee-Da-Da-DAH! (played the band) “You put your left arm in, your left arm out, in-out in-out shake it all about” etc. etc. After going through the various usual knees, hips, ears etc. The girls hijacked the commentary and shouted out “You put your HIGH HEELS in, your HIGH HEELS out, in-out, in-out, you wobble them all about” etc. and that fitting finale got the renewed attention and an enormous cheers and applause from everyone! It was hilarious, and we all strutted back to our tables lifting and kicking our high –heeled feet up towards all concerned. My shoes had looked and felt like a dream and I was proud of all the other girls in the 5" Club too!

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (33)
Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 15:52:15

What a memorable celebration! All too soon the last dance was over and it was time to change-back into my green coat and boots for the short taxi ride to my parents’ friends’ flat. But no taxis! Outside there was a vast queue of our guests already waiting, but London’s taxi drivers were hard-pressed because of the seasonal demand and very few were coming to our queue. “It’s not that far” I thought, “I’ll walk instead, despite these boots with their nigh-impossible heels”. So, now carrying my evening dress and shoes in the bag, I set out Westwards along Piccadilly and past the Royal Acadamy and Burlington Arcade.
Was that an office friend trying to catch up with me? No, I must have been mistaken, There was no-one behind me that I recognised. As I passed the Ritz, I started feeling creepy as if someone was deliberately following me. “No” I thought “It’s my imagination. If take the next right turn towards my destination, they’ll go straight on along Piccadilly and I can stop fretting”. So I suddenly turned sharp right into Half Moon Street and scampered up there as fast as my wobbly 5 ½” heels would take me. But the footsteps didn’t carry on going straight past – they followed me round the corner. Now I knew the full fright and fear experienced by someone being FOLLOWED. These days they call it “Stalking” and I think there are laws and things. But then I just new I was being followed! Keep calm Loo! Trying to go too fast with tired, tired feet and ankles on those outrageous heels, I turned left into Curzon Street and quickly right into Queen Street. The footsteps did the same! “Yes, that's it!” I panted “I’ll double back! He can’t possibly risk give himself away by following suit”. So I turned West into Charles Street and doubled South down Irfield Street back towards Piccadilly. It was to no avail! Almost choking with terror I looked around to see a shadowy figure of a man relentlessly following my every twist and turn!

Think Loo! The only hope was for me to try and reach my accommodation address before he reached me! Back into Curzon Street and completing a full circuit of that block, I cut back along Charles Street again, my breath coming in ever shorter gasps, my heart pounding and my feet, ankles and calves killing me. I turned North into Waverton Street knowing that our friends’ house was just past the far end, but despite my frantic scurrying, my follower’s footsteps were now closing on me very fast. I tried breaking into a run, but my mega-heels only permitted fast but tiny steps. “Hang on in there Loo” I gritted, and suddenly AAARGH! my left heel collapsed completely outwards, spraining my ankle and sending me spinning and crashing down hard on to the pavement! As my pursuer reared over me,I lay with my knees and my flinching face pressed hard into the pavement, instinctively using both arms to shield my head from the inevitable assault.

Love, Lucy

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (34)
Posted by Lucy on January 8, 2004, 17:08:43

Hi Everyone, and Happy 2004! My astonishment and heartfelt thanks for receiving such an amazing number of postings in reply to Instalments
31,32 & 33 from Sinkem, Paul, Puffer (Puffer, I posted a second reply to you about ballroom dancing), Jim, Carl, Stu, Raincat, Heelman, Scuffy, Robert, Mario, Gunter (Hrrmph!), Laurie, Hank, Arno, Robbie, and of course Spikesfan who has been camping out in front of a bookshop waiting for this epistle! Thank you to all those who expressed concern about my wellbeing, and I apologise for being slow to submit this instalment due to having a very hectic Christmas 2003 visiting Mummy and various other friends and relations, and going down to Wiltshire for the New Year’s Ball. Anyway, it’s nice to be back home and back on Jenny’s Forum and here is Instalment No. 34. Shoes don't play a big part in this episode (sorry!), but the event proved to be a turning-point in my life in high heels:
As my pursuer rushed up and towered above me, I lay sprawled face-down on the ice-cold pavement, my knees rammed on to the stone flags and my glasses being pushed painfully into my face as I cringed down in sheer and utter terror. As I sobbed in uncontrollable fright, I sensed the big man’s arm scything down at me and braced myself for the first almighty blow.

But what was happening? I became conscious of the gentlest of touches caressing my shoulder and the very kindest of voices talking to me. My “assailant” was speaking in one of the tenderest, most sincere and beautifully spoken voiced than I had ever heard, a rich voice exuding compassion, concern and tenderness. “Oh this is so dreadful!” he said “Are you badly hurt? I must get you to safety. Where can I take you?”. For a little while I was too shocked and shaken to say anything at all, but then a flood of relief overcame me. I tearfully blurted that I was only trying to get to my parents’ friends’ house in the next street. “Come on then, my name’s Clarence and the least I can do is to get you safely there”. With the strongest but gentlest of arms he lifted me on to my feet, but my poor sprained ankle would not take any weight. Clarence sat me on the kerbside, unzipped and carefully removed my green leather boots with the 5 ½” heels and told me not to put any weight on my sprained left ankle. My fashion bag had gone flying, depositing my lovely new silver 5” high heels into the roadway, but Clarence gathered these up in one hand and put the other arm around my waist to support me as I limped along the remainder of Waverton Street in my stockinged feet. Considering that I had been fleeing from him only minutes before, I felt strangely reassured in his secure, manly hold. Within another five minutes were were at Nora and “Spider” Webb’s lovely cosy traditional London town house where I had arranged to stay for the night. Sydney “Spider” Webb was a retired professional colleague of Daddy’s and the couple had become very great friends of my parents.

“Oh my gosh” said the Webb’s as they opened the front door and caught sight of me “Come on in both of you and let’s get Lucy on to the couch”. Clarence hesitated, but I beckoned him inside too, explaining to Nora and Spider that Clarence had rescued me and helped me walk with my injured ankle. It just didn’t occur to me to protest that it was Clarence’s fault that I had sprained my ankle running away from him, but in any case Nora caught sight of the 5 ½” stiletto heels on my green leather boots and called them “Ridiculous” and said that “You young whippersnappers must expect to sprain your ankles if you try to wobble along the street in stilts like those. In the 1920s we were considered too daring if we danced the Charleston in 2 ½” heels!”. Spider chipped in and said “Leave poor Lucy alone dear. She’s looking very white and shaken and is obviously in great pain”. “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry” exclaimed Nora “A really bad sprain can be more painful and serious than a break – I’ll prepare a cold compress immediately”. Nora had been a hospital nurse, so she gave my ankle the best of treatment whilst Spider asked Clarence whether he had enjoyed the staff Christmas ball.

“This is tricky question” I thought. But to my surprise, Clarence answered “Yes!”. He told Spider and Nora that he was a senior catering supervisor at the Connaught rooms all that night and that he had noticed me dancing at the ball. After his duties has ended, he had started walking back home to his rented mews cottage near Marble Arch when he noticed me walking ahead of him through ill-lit streets. He had tried to catch me up to offer to walk me back in his safe company. He was most concerned when I started to run away through further sinister streets, and even more aghast when I fell over! He expressed his relief that I was now with caring friends, and said he should leave so that they could put me to bed. He shot me the tenderest and most admiring of glances and was gone!

The following morning was Sunday and I awoke to the chimes of the Webbs’ grandfather clock. My ankle had swollen-up to resemble a purple field-hockey ball, but Nora brought me breakfast-in-bed and told me to stay put. As the morning sun streamed through the windows and I ate my soft-boiled-egg, I found myself re-living the adventures of the night before. The wonderful dances in my silver 5” stilettos, the compliments, the job promotion promises and then the nightmare walk and fall and Clarence’s “rescue”. Was Clarence a knight in shining armour who had born me to safety, or was he really a dangerous man who followed innocent young ladies struggling along in impossibly high heels? Would I ever know? I could not get him out of my mind. And he had gone so soon after helping me to the Webb’s. He’d vanished back out of my life, but for some reason I could not stop thinking about him and his gentle looks and voice. Even when the Webbs had helped me downstairs to sit and keep warm in the drawing room by their lovely coal fire, I couldn’t get Clarence out of my mind.

Just then the door bell jangled. It was Clarence! My heart missed a beat. “Hello, I hope I am not intruding, but I could not let this morning pass without enquiring as to how poor Lucy’s sprained ankle is getting on”. Nora and Spider greeted Clarence, ushered him in and thanked him profusely for looking after me, and brought in coffee and biscuits before withdrawing to let Clarence and I chat to each other. Maybe I should have been furious with him for being the cause of my initial fright, but as he sat there in the morning light, I noticed how he looked even more handsome and kind than I had remembered from the previous night. Despite looking reassured when I said the ankle was not broken, he seemed somewhat distraught and preoccupied. “Look Lucy” he suddenly blurted out “I must tell you this. It wasn’t altogether true when I said I simply wanted to offer to walk you home safely. I had been following you from the ball because from the moment I first set eyes on you I have been utterly besotted! When the bandleader asked for applause for the vision of loveliness he was right! I couldn’t concentrate on the catering details last night because my eyes were fixed only on you. The way you sparkled and smiled at everyone, the poise of your head on that long neck, the way you glided to and fro in that evening dress and danced in those hypnotically high heels, and your whole personality! I’ve never come across anyone like you!”. My heart missed two more beats and I was dumbfounded! Clarence mistook my silence for disapproval and quickly said “Oh, I am so sorry, I should not have come here or said a word”. “No, no” I quickly said, “I’ve been thinking about you too. You’ve been so very kind and considerate. I was actually running away in case I was being followed by some lecherous man who had got the wrong idea from seeing my ultra-high heels (at this point Clarence’s face blushed a deep red) but it was such an enormous relief when you treated me with such kindness”.

I continued “The Webbs have telephoned Mummy to tell her about my ankle, and Daddy will be taking me down to Surrey to recuperate at their home over Christmas before I return to my London job (and a promotion) in the New Year”. Without even thinking it through properly, I heard myself adding “Here is my telephone number if you’d like us to meet up in January”. It was only after he’d gone that I thought “Was that wise?”.

Love, Lucy