Lucy's Stories Only. (Please put comments in reply thread) - Page 6

Lucy · 26th April 2004, 00:26

LUCY'S STORY (Chapter 44)

Hi Everyone! It was lovely to have such a colossal set of responses to Chapter 43 from Mario, Erica, Stu, Sinkem, Paul, Heelfan, RPM, Erica, Allu, Mario and Dave. Thank you also for the messages on MegaForums from Smudgeur, “Guest”, JeffM, GirlWithBunions alias Shoelover 1982 alias TabascoTesa, and DawnHH, and for the kind PMs from Joe and Anita C. You’re all lovely people! On with Chapter 44:

As we drew level with Regent Shoes’ shopfront , Clarence had said “Just look at THAT!". I immediately thought he had noticed their large placard in their left-hand window saying LONDON’S HIGHEST HEEL below a court shoe with a gimmicky heel which they had extended into being about three feet long. However, he hadn’t! He was ignoring the window and I found that he was gazing further down the pavement along which we had been walking. A girl in a short skirt and seamed stockings had just come out of the shoe-shop door and was teetering very gingerly away from us down towards Leicester Square. But the shoes! “Oh my God!” said Clarence, “I don’t believe it!”. I had never seen any girl attempting to wear heels as high as those on any public street. They were white and the heels must have been at least 6” high and the girl was utterly hopeless in them! Her knees were thrust right forward, her bottom was stuck out to the rear, her ankles and heels were wobbling horrendously this way and that, and she was obviously struggling to keep her overall balance too, using a hand to steady herself on some of the shopfronts as she passed! Clarence was transfixed! He gaped at the spectacle in wonderment. Hang on! It started dawning on me that there was something familiar about that retreating figure – the hair-style and the clothes. Just then, the girl abruptly turned around and started mincing and tottering back towards us and the shop. Of course!! It was Madeline!

“Madeline!” I uttered, “What on earth are you doing out here in the street those impossible heels?”. “Ah, greetings both!” she exclaimed unabashed, with an enormous grin and flailing arms “Isn’t this fun!”. At this point she pirouetted round in a circle and rocked-and-rolled both heels to left and right and back “Whoops!” she laughed. “But, but ….don’t tell me you’ve gone and bought them, have you Madeline?”

“Come on you two, let’s talk in the shop – it’s starting to rain out here” butted-in Clarence, ushering us inside. Turning to teeter in, Madeline promptly snagged one of the 6” heels on the doormat and almost shot in headlong. But chuckling away and still beaming from ear to ear she said “No! I haven’t bought anything yet, but I got here early, so I nosed through the curtain where the ‘special’ high heels are sold, and told the nice man in there that I’d always wondered what it would feel like to walk in 6” heels. He simply thrust this pair of used demonstration six-inchers at me and said ‘Please have a go, Madam!’, so here I am wearing them ….well, trying to wear them!’ and with that she unsteadily lowered herself down on to a chair and caressingly removed the astonishing shoes from her feet. “Wow!” she said, “That was an experience and a half!. Any further, and my leg muscles wouldn’t have lasted long enough to stop me pitching forwards on to the pavement! Look! – my calves are all of a tremble”. And sure enough, they were! Predictably, Clarence was beside himself! He croaked “I should have known! I can’t so much as spend a few minutes with any of you three girls without one or the other of you sending me berserk!”. “You’re not going to buy those outrageous shoes are you Madeline?” I asked. “No” she said, “I’m not quite that daft! But it was fun trying to stagger about in them whilst I was waiting for you and Clarence”. By this time, Clarence was re-composing himself sufficiently to start taking notice of the interior displays in Regent Shoes. “Woweee” he said “I didn’t think anywhere in the world would have this many fantastic high heels all in one room!”. He just didn’t know what to look at first! “What are you hoping to buy, Madeline?”. “Well, if I had the money, I’d buy every shoe in the shop” Madeline bubbled excitedly, “But …”.

Just then she was distracted by what seemed like a whole army of ultra-glamorous ladies clattering into the shop in high heels. I think there were actually about eight of them all told, accompanied by a burly man in a suite smoking a big cigar. Ignoring the fact that we were in there first he barked at the shop manager “Kit ‘em out in the usual foot-gear. High as each one can manage. Sparkly gold-glitter this time!”.

The three of us didn’t mind that they had all pushed in front of us, because it looked as if this was going to be interesting. The girls all sat in a line whilst the staff started bringing out gold-glitter court shoes in very high heel heights, with some a bit lower. Whilst waiting her turn, the girl sitting on the end nearest to us noticed our own high-heeled shoes and got chatting to us. She told us that they were the showgirls from the nearby Windmill Theatre. I had never been there, but I thought of it as London’s equivalent to the Moulin Rouge in Paris and its glamour girls. As a group with all their garish makeup, artificial eyelashes etc. they looked a bit hard and “Show-biz”. But this was deceiving, as the girl who spoke to us had a soft north-country accent and was very nice.

She told us that whenever they changed shows, they discarded their last well-worn outfits for new, different ones, and usually made an appointment to come to Regent Shoes for new, glamorous sparkly 5” or 5 ½” high heels. “But can all of you manage to wear such high heels?” I asked out of sheer curiosity. “Well no” she said, “Ideally the guv’nor would like us all to wear skyscaper 5 ½” heels for the twice-nightly shows, but in fact me and one or two of the others can’t really manage in anything higher than about 4 ½”. Therefore he has conceded that each of us settles for the highest that we can actually cope with. That’s why some of the luckier girls are trying-on 5 ½” heels whilst two or three of us waiting here for somewhat lower ones. The trouble is, in the stage routines, the guv’nor always wants the most high-heeled girls in the limelight stage-front, and us lower-heels-girls are therefore stuck at the back!. It’s sensible though, because apparently before my time they put on one or two shows where every single girl instructed to wear 5 ½” heels, and within days half the girls were off sick with strained muscles, pulled tendons and a couple of sprained ankles. The only thing is, I just wish I were one of the lucky ones like some of them here who could dance and perform in the highest heights without those problems!”

“So none of the girls go right up to 6” heels then?” asked Madeline. “No, not for the demanding dance and stage routines, I think that would be impossible for even the best of them” said our new friend “But look, Linda has just come in. She’s our singer, and she usually wears even higher heels than the dancers for her singing spots”. Surprisingly, Linda wasn’t dressed up to the nines like the others. Apparently she wasn’t involved in that day’s dress rehearsal, and she entered the shop in a nondescript trouser-suit, casual flat moccasins and wearing glasses in a similar style to mine! After the staff had fitted-out all of the showgirls in their glitzy gold sparklers, they turned their attention to Linda and brought out several pairs of high-heeled court shoes and some sling-backs. They all had 6” heels! Linda said “Hi” to the others, sat down and nonchalantly rolled-up her trouser bottoms up on to her calves, and started trying-on the row of six inch stunners. To Madeline’s eternal envy and frustration, Linda stood up in each pair and appeared to glide around the showroom looking just as smooth and relaxed as she had been in her flat mocassins! She chose a pair of fantastic bright red 6” stiletto courts, whereupon the “Guv’nor” paid for all the shoes with a huge wad of cash from his top pocket and they all trooped out with cheery waves and turned left back towards the Windmill.

Clarence looked like the cat that swallowed the cream! “What a magnificent and interesting diversion!” he enthused, “And now back to your needs Madeline. Out of this Aladdin’s cave of a thousand high heels, What are you going to look at?”.

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 23rd May 2004, 14:33

Well Hi-There Everyone! I’m back and bug-free at last! My thank to everybody who wished me a speedy recovery from my chest infection – I wouldn’t want to go through that one again. A whole month! And a belated “Thank you” to all the members who gave lovely responses to my Chapter 44 – Stu, Sinkem, RPM, Paul, Mario and Erica. Also to those who did likewise on MegaForums when my Story was duplicated on “Stories” – Dawn, JeffM, TabascoTesa, Paul (North-East) and Jinxie Kat. Candice’s posting to say “Goodbye” to high heels due to foot problems was very sad, and I hope Mary’s support site to “Girls Stuck in High Heels” proves helpful – maybe the tendon-stretching exercises in my Instalments 23, 24 & 24a will help those “Permanent” girls. Finally I would like to give a huge welcome to the two new splendid contributors to this Girls in High Heels Forum of Jenny’s – Candice and Serenity. With their wonderful postings augmenting those of Erica, Anita, Stu, Paul, myself and others, I think this Forum is reaching it’s best-ever level. Here is my Chapter 45:
Madeline’s usual mood of bubbling enthusiasm had temporarily evaporated. She wailed “How is it that my ankles and balance were all over the place when trying-on those 6” heels, and yet that dancer Linda comes swanning in and wears the shop’s 6” heels as smoothly and elegantly as if the were less than half the height? Hrrmmph! Even in these much-worn 5 ½” heels of mine, I’m not nearly as good as she was in all the six-inchers!”. Well, it was very difficult to think what to say to comfort her, because the sad fact is that some girls can wear high heels much more naturally and effortlessly than others. She seemed inconsolable.

I don’t know if if was quite the right thing to say, but Clarence tried to cheer her up by answering “Well, I don’t know. I often think girls look more attractive and alluring if their heels are very high and very challenging to walk in, even to the point of being too high for them. You looked absolutely fantastic when Lucy and I saw you road-testing and teetering away in those white 6” stilettos out on the pavement! A wonderfully memorable moment! Such sights are bound to bring out the manly, protective instincts of us guys, aren’t they now?”.

Madeline gave Clarence a peculiar look, as she wasn’t entirely sure whether his remark was a compliment or not, but after this she steadily brightened-up, and began looking at Regent Shoes’ amazing selection. It was certainly a wonderful assemblage of high heeled shoes – by far the best in London in those days. And being early Spring, it was seasonally a good time to visit because they were not only displaying all the winter styles – boots, court shoes etc.in black and dark colours, but the Spring and early Summer range had been added – high-heeled sandals and backless mules in light pastel colours and high wedge heels in similar colours and in cork. We were in heaven!

As Clarence and I sat there, Madeline began trying on this and that pair, tentatively at first, and then with increasing vigour as her usual cheery enthusiasm began re-asserting itself. Clarence’s eyes were following every move of Madeline’s feet as they slipped in and out of countless pairs of high heels and pottered and tottered up and down the showroom. She seemed to be drawn repeatedly to various versions of the good old 4 ¾” stiletto-heeled “Alps” that already featured heavily of my shoe collection with Velma by now owning three pairs as well. Clarence murmered “Why am I noticing that those seems to be the highest heels on display? Aren’t Regent Shoes supposed to be famous for ultra-high heels like the ones that Madeline and Linda were trying earlier on?”. I explained to him that the main shop area was laid out for ‘ordinary’ ladies that came in looking for the higher end of the ‘normal’ high heel range up to 4 ¾”, whereas their specialist range of skyscraper heels for specialist connoisseurs (including men!) was kept through the curtain in the inner private-appointment showroom.

Clarence was spellbound at my mention of the ‘Inner Sanctum’, and I sensed a second surge of excitement ripple through him as I mentioned the male high-heel customers. He breathed into my ear “You mean men actually come here to buy shoes for themselves? High heels in men’s sizes?”. “Well yes”, I whispered, “More than once Velma and I have seen men collecting their high heels from here, and one actually wore them out of the shop”. “Goodness Gracious!” Clarence softly exclaimed, and went very quiet.

Meanwhile, Madeline was having a whale of a time. By now practically every stiletto-heeled shoe of over 4” was off the display stands and littering the carpet. The poor assistant couldn’t keep up with her dives and lunges towards every style in sight, but Madeline finally settled for the slingback version of “Alps” in a summery lemon-yellow colour. I blurted out “But Madeline, I thought your reason for coming here was to replace your beloved purple 5 ½” courts with an identical style?”. “Ah! We’re just coming to that” grinned Madeline, “I’m about to look at their ‘Special’ shoes”, but for everyday wear, I’ve been admiring Velma’s and your pairs of 4 ¾” ‘Alps’ so I’m getting both heel-heights today.”. At last Madeline was seeing sense. A few months ago she’d escaped from a repressive mother and ‘sensible’ shoes and gone on the rebound straight into outrageous 5 ½” stilettos from which she had become inseparable until now when they were virtually worn out. But she had started suffering from tendon-shortening problems despite the stretching exercises that I had shown her (see my Chapters 23 – 24a), plus growing aching of the lower back. Daily 5 ½” wearing was taking it’s toll and she was seeing sense!

For the ultra-high heeled shoes, the special salesman emerged from the curtain and duly beckoned Madeline through. “Can my friends come too?” asked Madeline. “Well” pondered the specialist. “Normally we are only used to discreetly seeing one client at a time, so there is very little room in there. But if your two friends can squeeze in, I suppose it will be alright”. Clarence seemed hugely grateful and excited, so hand-in-hand, we followed the salesman and Velma into the little room. It certainly was minute, so Clarence and I pressed and squashed ourselves into the corner with a few giggles, giving Madeline just enough room to try on the wonderful array of shoes.

Do you know, for a long time afterwards, both Clarence and I mutually remembered that as one of the sexiest moments of our lives. We were totally surrounded by the most fantastic ultra high-heeled shoes in the universe, all looking so, so, so hypnotically erotic! And I felt Clarence’s tall, muscular body pressed so tightly against mine. As we watched Madeline’s feet insert themselves into the first of many pairs of towering 5 ½” heels, the whole scenario sent an electric shock of excitement rippling through Clarence’s body and mine. Clarence’s arms were around me, his large sensitive hands running up and down my body, our eyes never leaving Madeline’s feet. Luckily the saleman and Madeline were too engrossed in the shoes to notice what was happening behind them, but my antics were becoming as wildly passionate as Clarence’s. The climax came when the assistant produced a pair of high-heeled courts to kill for! The were in sky-blue patent leather, with the most incredible low-cut uppers and toes we’d ever seen, and a tiny little dinky bows on the toes, and wonderfully thin (about ¼”)high, high stiletto heels. As Madeline tenderly inserted one foot into them and then the other, she was re-invented! Clarence breathed “Just look at that toe cleavage!”, Madeline was moved into utter speechlessness, and even the salesman of long experience looked mightily impressed. The insteps of Madeline’s size 5 (UK) feet were forced up into the vertical, and as she rocked the precarious heels 5 ½” heels to left and right to get the measure of them, I felt Clarence stiffen and simultaneously I experienced a special and unforgettable moment of my own.

Fortunately, a highly delighted and excited Madeline and the saleman went back through the curtain to the shop till to conclude the purchases, thereby avoiding noticing the disgracefully flushed and unkempt state of Clarence and myself! I looked sheepishly over at Madeline, but through my daze of still being intoxicated by gorgeous Clarence and all those high heels, all I heard her say was “Can I please wear them out of the shop?”.

More soon!

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 27th May 2004, 03:05

Hi All!

Lovely to receive responses top my Chapter 45 from Sinkem, Carl J, Stu, Jim, Mario, RPM, Paul and Mr. Spike, plus nice, friendly words from Erica and Candice, and replies on here from Dawn and JeffM. Chapter 46:

As Madeline proudly tottered out of Regent Shoes in her stunning new sky-blue 5 ½” stiletto-heeled courts, Clarence and I followed her into the street, smiling at her enthusiasm, and being infected by it. Although Madeline always walked in a somewhat hampered way in mega-heels, these new ones made her look fantastic, despite her odd wobble and “Whoops!”.

The three of us caught the train to New Cross, because Velma had spent all day preparing and cooking a meal for six which was to include Velma, Me and Madeline and our three boyfriends Mick (the Oxford St. shoe salesman), Clarence and Cedric. Cedric worked as an accounts clerk at the same firm as Madeline, and she’d asked him along to the six-some as their very first date!

Madeline changed-down into her new 4 ¾” Alps for our walk up Pepy’s Road to the top of Telegraph Hill. Needless to say, both slingbacks had slipped down before we entered our three-girl pad and were greeted by a wonderful candle-lit spread laid out by Velma. Mick had already turned up with multitudinous bottles of wine, winked at us all, and we awaited the arrival of Cedric with great curiosity. Any friend of Madeline’s was bound to be very nice. But he wasn’t! We opened the front door to a very prim and proper young man with a very prim and proper moustache and central hair parting who was already looking most disapprovingly at the weeds growing out of our window boxes. He introduced himself very formally, and stiffly shook hands with us all, including Madeline.

Undaunted, Velma sat us all down around the table, poured us a generous drink of sherry (which Cedric prudishly pushed away, asking instead for tap water) and bore in the prawn cocktail starters which in those days were a great novelty. Of course, Mick and Clarence got on like a house on fire. The both had a great sense of fun, and like us three girls, they were both high heel enthusiasts! Mick and Velma were fascinated when we told them all about the Windmill Theatre showgirls getting kitted-out in glitzy high heels. Mick had always had a fascination for such groups of ladies shopping for identical heels, and immediately began regaling us with one similar such situation is his shoe shop.

Three ravishing beauties had entered and asked Mick “We’re a singing sisters threesome, and have you got three pairs of identical stiletto-heeled shoes in orange to match our new stage dresses?” “But not more than 3” high” added one of them “Because I can’t manage in higher heels like my two sisters can”. Mick noticed that even wearing kitten heels she was looking very awkward in them. After disappearing for several minutes, Mick re-emerged and said “I’m afraid orange is a scarce colour, especially as it’s still late winter. However, I do have this one model in orange, but the heels are much higher than 3”, I’m afraid”. “Oh, they’re the ideal colour and simply glorious!” enthused the other two singers, over-ruling the first sister and ignoring her horrified looks. Before Mick could blink, they had bought all three pairs and rushed out. Mick said he often wondered how the non-heel-managing girl got on wearing 4 1/2” stilettos for the first time in front of an entire concert audience!

Just then Velma brought in the main course of delicious traditional roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, and dispensed an appropriate French red wine. I answered Mick by mentioning that I had also found myself going out in 5 ½” heels that were my highest ever when Mummy had enthused about a green leather coat matching my green leather boots and being great as a street outfit. Mick nodded enthusiastically and told us that many, many times individual ladies had come into his shoe shop purely to find shoes in a colour that matched their particular coat, skirt or dress, only afterwards realising that the heels were really too high for them. “That’s right” I chipped in, “I’ve noticed this on several occasions in the street. Some ladies look very nice in their matching ensembles, but I remember one lady in Bond Street wearing a turquoise coloured coat and she had obviously bought her very high-heeled turquoise shoes to match the coat. The coat looked wonderful on her, but as for coping in the high stiletto heels, she was walking along the pavement like a trussed chicken!”.

Cedric sipped unenthusiastically at his glass of wine, stayed disdainfully silent throughout our high-heel chattermongering, and eventually cleared his throat asked the room in general what we thought about the political situation in Cyprus. That killed the convivial mood of the dinner more effectively than an atom bomb! Even during our dessert of peaches and ice cream, the mood was positively sombre with Cedric’s dissaproving presence casting a gloomy shadow over us all.

Anyway, not to be discouraged, Velma cleared the remains of the meal away into the kitchen and gaily announced to the three fellas that we three girls had a treat in store for them – a little fashion show of our best high heels. We remembered how much Clarence had enjoyed our impromptu heel-parade in his mews cottage, so we were sure that the fellas would be doubly appreciative of a better prepared parade at home where we could feature all of our most spectacular pairs of high heels. Velma asked Clarence, Mick and Cedric to sit on our long settee, thrust a hot coffee and after-dinner mints at each of them, and we retired to don the first three pairs of our “stunners”. Well all had pretty short skirts on, and I put on my 5” white stiletto courts that had featured in the Isle of Wight beauty contest, Velma slipped into her high Italian slingbacks, and Madeline again put on her brand new sky blue Regent Shoes 5 ½” stiletto courts. We all swept into the sitting room trying to do our best “Pretty bimbos teetering in high heeled shoes” act, parading around the room in front of the fellas, with a few catwalk-like turns and twizzles, showing off our stiletto heels to best effect. Immediately, Clarence and Mick were totally captivated, watching our every move in rapt attention and hugely enjoying every little move of ours and saucy flip of our heels. They were lapping it up! Absolutely loving it! But suddenly we all became aware of Cedric’s presence. To the dismay of everyone else, he was looking more and more scornful and irritated. “I can’t see why your shoes are getting all this attention” he snivelled, “they look thoroughly tasteless and silly to me, and anything to do with shoes is so boring to anyone with a fine mind!”. Madeline, feeling responsible for having invited Cedric, looked utterly embarrassed and devastated. I thought she was going to cry out of sheer humiliation!

Velma could see that the atmosphere was irretrievably ruined for the night, so as soon as she decently could, she tactfully suggested that it was time for a hot “nightcap” drink to fortify the fellas for their journeys home.

Before Clarence left, he and I did the washing-up together and had a quick kiss and cuddle in the kitchen. “I am so sorry Clarence” I said, “I had no idea that it was possible for one killjoy to ruin an evening so thoroughly”. “Don’t worry on my account” said Clarence, “It was a super day walking along Oxford Street with you, and then experience those magic moments in Regent Shoes, and then enjoying Velma’s marvellous meal and seeing you three in top high-heeling form! And now Lucy, just to cheer you up, I’ve got a surprise plan for you: When the Lizzie (as Clarence called the “Queen Elizabeth”) next gets back to England in a fortnight’s time, as one of the caterering officers, it’s my turn to stay on board to oversee the stock-and-stow of all the provisions for the next crossing. So instead of me coming up to London, I’m inviting you down to Southampton to visit me on the ship! And, don’t forget, they’ve promised that I'll have those specially-made American skyscraper 6 inch ‘Betty Page’ heels to give you when we meet!”. Outwardly I sparkled in glee and anticipation, but inwardly I was saying to myself "How on earth will I be able to manage 6" heels???".

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 30th May 2004, 18:09

Hi to all you high-heel enthusiasts!

Chapter 46 sparked off lovely replies from Sinkem, Paul. Erica, Stu, Mario and RPM, and on MegaForums I received very nice messages from JeffM and Dawn HH – you all very kind to this London lass! And now to one of the most memorable milestones in my life – my first 6” heels. In the event, the occasion proved to be much more momentous than I had bargained for. Honestly forum members, I can’t believe that it has taken me 47 chapters to get to this point!:

For an interminable fortnight I had been counting-off the days, hours and minutes before I could be with my beloved Clarence again, and could be shown around the World’s largest ocean liner, and could be given my first ever 6” heels!. It was all so exciting! But now at last on this sunny spring morning in 1964 I was speeding from London to Southampton on the train. Clarence was looking forward to introducing me to his fellow officers on the “Queen Elizabeth”, so I felt it befitting to wear my smartest and most attractive formal navy blue skirt-suit over a light blue blouse, a matching navy blue patent leather handbag, and in honour of Clarence, on my feet I wore his gift to me of “Pin and Needle”, those wonderful rapier-thin(3mm) titanium heels with the light translucent blue uppers in such a low-cut court shoe style. As they had been too big for me from the start, and the thin leather had stretched even larger,They had been slopping on and off my feet like mad. I actually liked that ‘pseudo mule’ slapping sensation, but it had already detracted from my decorum at Claridge’s and I didn’t want let Clarence down in the dignity of the “Queen Elizabeth”. Therefore I had put insoles and heel-grips into “Pin and Needle”, and that just about prevented them from slopping. With the light and dark blue outfit, I hoped I looked ultra-smart and a bit nautical for Clarence.

As I walked through Southampton Dock’s gates, clutching the Visitors’ Boarding Pass that Clarence had sent to me, the enormous ship lay berthed in the distance. It was quite a walk to through the docks to the Cunard Terminal where the “Queen Elizabeth and the “Queen Mary”
tied-up on alternate weekends, having usually crossed within sight of each other in mid-Atlantic. Poor old “Pin and Needle” had to negotiate stretches of uneven concrete here and tarmac there, interlaced with hazardous inset railway lines and odd coils of rope and lengths of rusty chain. However, despite my somewhat heel-wobbly progress, I made it unscathed to the ship, having approach along the quayside. I gasped in disbelief upon gazing up at the riveted steel hull of the ship, rearing above me like a huge black endless cliff. The two “Queens” were the only ships to have exceeded 1,000 feet in length, the “Elizabeth” having been slightly the longer at 1,031 feet. Up-ended it would have been over five-and-a-half times as high as Nelson’s Column! Even without being up-ended it was still astoundingly lofty, having 13 decks (the height of a 13-storey building!) plus the biggest funnels in the world, and being 234 feet tall from the keel to the masthead. A Cunard official inspected my pass and directed me up the crew gangway. The passenger gangway was a posh covered-over hydraulic affair like boarding a large aircraft, but the crew had to use a long primitive swaying wooden gangplank with handrails.

Immediately, both “Pin and Needle” sank down into gangplank and became stuck! Behind me, a laundryman put down his enormous basket and kindly pulled the heels out of the wood for me. I put them back on, but this time tippy-toeing the rest of the way into the ship, avoiding putting any weight on my heels. Checking upon each person embarking from the gangway was the ship’s Master-at-Arms. He said “Ah yes, welcome aboard Ma’am. I’ll telephone the catering officers’ quarters and inform them of your arrival”. Moments later, a beaming Clarence appeared looking breathtakingly handsome in his Cunard Line officer’s uniform. He held out both arms towards me and I shot straight into them. I don’t know which of us was the more delighted to see the other. “Oh Clarence” I breathed into his neck, “This is fantastic!”.

“My Darling Lucy!” said Clarence, “We can have five precious hours together on board. Yesterday afternoon and this morning I’ve managed to complete all my Stock-and-Stow duties, so there’s now enough new food and provisions on board to feed over 3,360 passengers and crew for a week.” “My goodness” I though to myself “a whole floating city!”. Clarence continued “You are just in time to be my guest for lunch. After that, I do hope I can show you everything before our special Betty Page Shoes moment”. Clarence lead me through into what he called the “Working Alleyway” which the passengers never saw. It was a fascinating steel-walled central corridor running the full length of the bowels of the ship, lined by dozens of service areas and departments – laundry, fire station, Printing press, carpenters’ workshop etc. and the alleyway was teeming with seamen, kitchen staff, painters, greasers and all manner of ship’s company members. My heels had been clang-clang-clanging along the red-painted steel deck and I felt the curious eyes of a hundred of the crew upon my shoes. Clarence opened a curved metal hatch to a circular steel compartment and said “go in there and look up”. “Wow!” I said, looking up a what seem to be a never-ending vertical round shaft with a metal climbing rungs running right up it. “What on earth is that?” Clarence told me I was looking up the hollow steel foremast, at the top of which was a glazed crow’s-nest compartment for the lookout who was connected to the bridge by telephone. After that, Clarence took me up a flight of stairs to “R Deck” and the completely different world of the first class passengers. We were now walking along sumptuous corridor panelled from end to end in highly figured “fiddle-back” maple. Clarence astounded me by saying that there were so many corridors, passageways and decks on the “Queen Elizabeth” that it was possible to walk for 22 miles without retracing one’s steps at all!

With a chivalrous bow, he gestured me into the First Class Restaurant. It was vast – the full 118’ width of the ship and longer again. Only a proportion of the passengers had arrived on board, so the restaurant was less than half full, but the surroundings were so grand! Wood panelling and carved wood sculptures and tapestries and metal sculptures adorned that walls, and smart waiters in short white jackets hovered to give us silver service with a choice of countless dishes and courses. I was so excited that afterwards I couldn’t remember what I’d eaten! Clarence introduced me to a number of his fellow officers, all looking absolutely magnificent, and even to the Commodore of the fleet! Apparently, the other Cunard ships each had a captain with four gold rings on their sleeves, but being the biggest and best, the “Queen Elizabeth" was under the command of the Commodore himself with five gold rings! Clarence said that many celebrities travelled on the New York run and pointed out that the young actress Hayley Mills was just entering the restaurant. Minutes later violinist Yehudi Menuhin and conductor Leopold Stokowski came in together and sat near us. I felt just like a film star myself, and was so pleased that I had stopped “Pin and Needle” from slopping and looking slovenly.

After the lunch, Clarence continued taking me on a whirlwind tour of the ship. Even visiting only a fraction of the thirty-seven public rooms, only two of the swimming pools and only one of the gymnasiums and one of the cinemas, my feet felt as if “Pin and Needle” had covered the full 22 miles of Clarence’s corridors, and we still hadn’t been “Topsides”! We ascended to the vast navigation bridge and it’s controls. The view over the foredeck and bows was quite stunning. Clarence tried to take me out on to the starboard wing of the bridge which overhangs the side of the ship but the huge 90’ sheer drop below made me too giddy to stay there! He pointed to the spare propeller lashed down on the foredeck – a colossal piece of brass 18 feet in diameter and weighing 32 tons. Then he pointed at the two enormous funnels aft of the bridge, each rearing 56’ above the top deck and the forward funnel bearing the pair of famous whistles which weighed over a ton apiece and could be heard 10 miles away. It was all absolutely incredible! Too much to take in!

Lastly, Clarence suggested a romantic walk right around the promenade deck. Luckily the teak deck was too hard for “Pin and Needle” to sink into as they had done on the gangplank, so hand in hand we set out, but “OOPS” – whenever either heel stepped on the pitch caulking between the planks, I immediately kept sinking in and getting stuck. I tried hard to tread only on the teak planks, but every now and then SQUITCH and one or the other heel was stuck again. This kept yanking the shoes off my feet and destroyed the new heel-grips. Before long “Pin and Needle” were slip-slopping off my feet again and slap-slap-slapping way merrily. “Oh well” I shrugged. Clarence just grinned hugely.

“And now Lucy” he said, “Before all visitors have to go ashore, we’ve just got nice time to visit my cabin together to see if we can find a certain pair of very, very, very special shoes for you!”.

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 3rd June 2004, 00:03

Hi Everone! A humungous "Thankyou" for the lovely replies to my Chapter 47 on Jenny's Forum from Patience, Mike, Mario, Paul and Sinkem and for the very nice reply on this forum from Dawn HH. Here's Chapter 48:

As Clarence lead me down the “Queen Elizabeth’s” companionways three decks from Promenade Deck to B Deck, I was bursting with excitement (and some apprehension) to be given the much-awaited “Bettie Page” shoes that he had ordered to be especially made for me in New York. Clarence had shown me various editions of the American “High Heels” magazine that he had been buying on news-stands on Broadway, so I had seen Bettie Page in the incredible 6” heeled shoes that she was famous for wearing. I will try to include such typical Bettie Page photos for you in my duplicate story on MegaForums story page:

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On B Deck, Clarence took me forward to his cabin, an outer one with a port-hole situated two decks below the foredeck, just forward of the bridge structure. Clarence said “When you go ashore, look on the starboard bow for the name QUEEN ELIZABETH (which is 84 feet long by the way – one foot for every thousand tons of the ship!). Find the row of port-holes below the name, count seven port-holes going aft from the letter “Q”, and that’s me!

Clarence’s cabin was small but very neat and ship-shape. He said “The senior stewards share two-to-a-cabin and the waiters and commis waiters share four to a cabin, but fortunately we catering officers each have a cabin of our own”. On the wall by his bunk and the ceiling overhead were tell-tale traces of sellotape. “Aye, aye” I challenged, “Has a certain catering officer been peeking at pin-up photos?”. Clarence went all red. I was enjoying this! “Well, come on, I persisted, where are they then? Show them to Lucy!” I was trying to look very stern, but it was almost impossible for me not to burst out laughing. A very, very sheepish Clarence mumbled “Oh well, if I’m rumbled, I suppose I can’t avoid showing them to you, but try not to be to angry with me!” He opened his wardrobe, reached up to the top shelf and handed me a sheaf of pictures, obviously all extracted from magazines. Spreading them along his bunk, I found that none of the lovelies were nude or pornographic. They were either fully-clothed or sporting bikinis or lingerie, but all were balanced on incredibly high, precarious heels, including three of four of Bettie Page herself! But to my even greater fascination, there was a large batch of enlarged glossy black-&-white photographs of what were obviously of the ship’s passengers. In every picture of a lady or couple photographed, the lady was wearing elegant clothing, the utmost in finery, and on her feet was the most superb pair of high stiletto-heeled shoes!”. “How on earth did you get these” I gasped. “Easy” muttered an ashamed-looking Clarence, nervously ruffling his sensitive fingers through his dark brown hair “On every crossing, they hold three Commodore’s Cocktail Parties, one each for First Class, Cabin Class and Tourist Class. The First Class passengers are served with the oodles of the best in champagne and caviar, and at the other extreme the Tourist Class passengers get a small cheap sherry and a biscuit!. The First Class passengers include the finest people in society and many celebrities, and this is their big moment to shine! The gentlemen all wear black evening dress and bow ties, and the ladies – Well! …….. all those fantastic shoes!” Clarence was starting to lapse into one of his ‘high heel comas’ that I was learning to recognise, but pulling himself together he continued “Anyway, the two ship’s photographers circulate and photograph everyone. They have their own darkroom and enlarger on board, so before the end of each crossing, all of the photographs are numbered and enlargements printed with “RMS Queen Elizabeth” across the bottom, and they are displayed in the ship’s foyer for anyone to order and purchase. In fact, I’ve become Bob and Dave’s best customer! Nowadays, I don’t even need to place orders. Whenever a particularly stunning pair of high heels appears in any shot, they automatically print-off an extra copy, knowing that I’ll buy it, and I now get a great bulk-discount! And here they all are!”.

I had become so engrossed in all those wonderful evening dresses, hairstyles, shawls, jewellery and most of all, the superb high heels, that I was ignoring the fact that Clarence was now slumped in his chair looking very guilty and utterly miserable. “Now that you have discovered what I look at on my voyages, are you going to leave me?” he whispered. “Good gracious no! Don’t be such a fathead!” I chuckled “I realise you can’t have me on the trips, so anyone that’s more than half man and has any spirit needs something to enjoy! Look, I’ll let you stick them all back up in your cabin on one condition”. “What’s that?” croaked Clarence “That you add one or two of me in amongst them, and I don’t mind if I’m shown in my highest heels!”. Clarence’s face burst into a delighted wreath of smiles and he swept me off my feet and bodily on to his bunk for an unforgettably passionate outburst of kisses and cuddles.

Suddenly our embrace was shattered by the most deafening and prolonged clap of thunder that I’d ever heard. “Oh my goodness” said Clarence, shutting the porthole, “That’s the 15-minutes-to-sailing warning from the ship’s whistle! And talking of your highest heels, I haven’t even given you the “Extra Specials” yet! He opened the bottom drawer of his chest, and lovingly handed me a shoe box identical to the one that had held ‘Pin and Needle’ with a silk ribbon bow on top. “Quick, with all my love” he said. The big moment! I feverishly undid the box and gazed transfixed at the contents. They were black calfskin courts and the 6” heels looked impossibly high! Clarence explained that most of the famous Bettie pages were taken from about 1952 onwards and mostly just before true pencil-thin stilettos came along. Therefore the heels of most of Betties shoes were about ¾” to 1” wide at the bottom. “To train you in your first 6” heels, I explained to the shoe-maker that you had found even your green 5 ½” stiletto boots to be a little too high and thin and wobby, so I asked him to make these ¾” wide to give you a little more stability and also to look like authentic Bettie Page’s!”.

"Oh Wow!” I gasped “Thank you so much Clarence, but I’ll never be able to wear these! – Look at the heel-height in the flesh! I’d no idea that they would be this incredibly high!”. “Well, try them and see” enthused Clarence “If Bettie can do it, then so can you!”. I didn’t read until years later that although Bettie modelled for all those countless amazing pictures in 6” heels, she had a larger foot than mine, and even then apparently she was never much good at walking in them!

Clarence placed them on the floor at my feet, but they promptly keeled over sideways, so he held each one steady whilst I gingerly inserted my feet into them. “Oh golly!” I exclaimed. I felt my insteps being forced upwards and forwards into a seemingly impossible angle, with my insteps way, way forward of the vertical for the first time, the push of the heels was thrusting my ankles, shins and knees forwards. The toes of the shoes were almost hidden from me, tucked under my legs and insteps! I tried standing unaided, and promptly had to steady myself against the wall. The amazing heels were doing their best to pitch me forwards, flat on my face. It took the utmost effort of every muscle in my body to combat this forward-pitching and to stand erect.

“Try walking across the cabin” said Clarence. Although deliberately short, my first pace was still too long, so I couldn’t put the toe-part of the shoe to the floor. I found that only by adopting the most minute steps a few inches long could I totter forwards in them at all.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed a delighted Clarence, “Terrific! But quickly now, put “Pin and Needle” back on because we’ve only just got seconds to go for me to see you safely ashore down the crew gangway”. I only had a moment to give Clarence the briefest “Thankyou” kiss before we scuttled down to the crew exit. With Clarence carrying my incredible “Betties” for me and descending close behind me, I boarded the wooden gangplank, trying to again keep on tiptoe to avoid Pin or Needle becoming impaled. But this was impossible! The gangplank was now sloping much more steeply due to the rising tide, and I was now trying to walk down instead of up. “Pin” (my left shoe) immediately sank into the wood again and I walked out of it, and simultaneously Clarence’s descending foot inadvertently kicked “Pin” free. We watched helplessly as it rolled and skittered ahead of us diagonally down the sloping gangway, biddely, biddely, biddely-bump, and over the side, and down, down, down, gloop! into the horrible oily bit of sea between the ship and the shore. We were both dumbstruck with horror, but Clarence had the presence of mind to scoop me up in his arms and carry me semi-barefooted the rest of the way to the quayside and safety, to the ribald cheers, jeers, catcalls and wolf-whistles of countless deck hands and crew looking down from the ship’s rails.

As the ship’s whistle thundered the final call for sailing and withdrawal of gangways, I wailed “Oh thank you so much for everything Clarence, have a super trip! Miss you! But we’ve lost one half of lovely “Pin and Needle” that you bought me! It’s so terrible! And what am I going to wear on my feet right now to get myself all the way back home to London?”

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 6th June 2004, 16:00

Hi Everyone!
A million thanks to all those who replied to my Chapters 47 & 48: RPM, Stu, Paul, Sinkem, Candice, Mario, Mike (welcome!) and Patience (welcome back!), and also to those who replied to my MegaForums edition: Jeff M, Dawn HH, Smudgeur and Paul NW.

We now come to one of the most memorable milestones in my life in high heels – my impromtu and unforseen journey in impossibly high 6” heels! Wait for it! Here we go – Chapter 49:

With the “Queen Elizabeth” about to sail at any second, Clarence was still ashore at the wrong end of the gangway! In a trice, he carried me over to a big iron bollard, sat me down on it, groped inside the shoebox for my new 6” Bettie Page shoes and feverishly put them on my dangling feet. “There” he panted, “They’re the only shoes we’ve got to get you back to London, but please go very, very carefully in them my darling Lucy! Love you! Bye!” and with that, and still brandishing my surviving “Needle” in one hand, he literally threw himself up the crew gangway which they had already begun withdrawing.

So there I was! Suddenly abandoned and left to my own devices on the quayside, finding myself wearing outrageous 6” high heels that were so extreme that I could hardly stand up in them, let alone walk in them! At most, I had anticipated that I would only ever to a little gentle teetering and tottering in them in the privacy of Clarence’s mews cottage, and yet here I was in public, having to try and get back to my London home! I could never in my life remember being in such an impossible situation. “Oh cripes Lucy, get out of this one!” I muttered frantically to myself. Tentatively I slid forwards off the bollard, lowering my feet to the ground, and immediately feeling the height of those huge heels thrusting my arches and posture forward. Despite my Business Acadamy training in standing erect, I found that the the heel-height was pushing my knees well forwards, my pelvis upwards and my bottom backwards.

I had been so immersed in the challenge of starting-off in the 6” heels that only now did I become aware of renewed cheering from the crew members. Now that sailing time had arrived, hundreds of them were now lining the rails towards to ship’s fore-deck, directly above me. Who or what were they cheering at? ….. It was me! Or more precisely it was the “Bettie Page Show” that I was giving them! Oh goodness – it was so embarrassing! Although restricted to the most tiny of steps, my intention was to try and retrace my route past the bows, along the quayside and escape across to the dock gates. However, the moment I took my first few tiny teetering steps, the crew’s cheers turned to a solid ROAR of approval, with scores of piercing wolf-whistles mixed in.

So hampered was I by the ridiculous heels, that mincing every ten feet further forward seemed like an eternity. However, at last I left the prow of the ship behind me together with the embarrassment of all those seamen and stewards also behind me (or so I thought). But it was not to be - what had been an open quayside and my route to and from the ship was now sealed-off with steel crowd-barriers. I hadn’t been wearing my glasses because I had wanted to look as beautiful as possible for Clarence and his fellow officers. I now peered and peered shortsightedly through half-closed eyes, desperately trying and spot an opening through which to escape, but it was all too much of a blur. Just as I finished rummaging in my handbag for my glasses and was putting them on, a uniformed Cunard official stepped forward and said “Excuse me madam, the ends of the quay are always cordoned-off for an hour either side of sailing. I must ask you to retrace your steps and exit through the entrance to the terminal building which is opposite the mid-point of the ship. Oh, and if you’ll pardon me for mentioning it madam – very nice shoes indeed madam, if I might make so bold!”

I stammered a blushing “Thank you” at the kind man. “Oh no!” I groaned to myself, realising that I would have to totter and teeter back past all of those some crewmen for a second time! Already the sheer strain of coping with 6” heels for the very first time was indescribable. Every muscle and sinew in my feet, ankles, legs and entire body was strained as tight as a violin string as I strove to stay erect and to keep tottering forwards without falling off the fetishy heels. I was sorely tempted to do that return stretch in my nylon stockinged feet, but one look at the quayside littered with rusty old screws, nails, stones and patches of black oil immediately put me off that idea. In any case, something inside me told me that I would be letting-down Clarence and that fanatically enthusiastic crew. If it had been humiliating trying to walk past them in heels that were blatantly far too high for me, then it would be even more humiliating to chicken out of wearing them for the return trip! So, on they stayed.

Predictably, as the crew suddenly realised to their delight that I and my high heels were coming back past them again, their cheers began once more and began swelling in volume. But all of a sudden I became aware of something else as well. As I teetered so precariously along the quay, not only did I have the ship’s audience on my right, but there was also an even larger audience on my left too! A balcony ran along the upper floor of the terminal building, and the rail was now thronged with hundreds more onlookers! These were obviously the friends and relatives of the passengers who were travelling or emigrating to North America. Furthermore, with the benefit of my glasses I could see that the forward part of the ship where the cheering crew were situated, and now became aware that the long mid-ships section had countless masses of faces at the rails – these were the passengers themselves , and it looked as though all two-thousand-plus of them were on deck to celebrate the departure.

Once more, as I click-clicked my way fully abreast of them, the crew’s cheers rose to a tumultuous crescendo. Despite my virtual helplessness and acute embarrassment, I suddenly saw the funny side of the all this, so I looked up and give them all a wave and a wobbly attempt at a saucy kick of my heel. My audience erupted! As one man, they responded with the hugest cheer I’d ever heard. All of this ribald cacophony from the forward part of the ship was now attracting the passengers and relatives alike, lining either side of my route. But just then I remembered my beloved Clarence. What had he said? “Find the row of port-holes below the name “Queen Elizabeth”, count seven port-holes going aft from the letter “Q”, and that’s me!” I paused in my tiny paces as I looked for Clarence’s port-hole. Yes! There was a face – and it was Clarence giving me a huge grin and a thumbs-up sign! He motioned me to keep walking and a long camera lens temporarily pointed out at me, obscuring his face. Then he blew me countless kisses and stuck his arm right out of the porthole to give me such a lovely wave goodbye. I got my little embroidered hanky out of my handbag and waved it back at him. Suddenly I felt tears of emotion pricking my eyes – it was all so overwhelming! In fact, I had stop waving the hanky to use it for drying my eyes.

As I say, the crew’s ribald tumult had draw the attention of the countless well-wishers on my left and passengers on my right to me failing to master my mega heels! As I continued teetering along the quay between both audiences, they had a ringside seat of my faltering progress, and they all started cheering too! First of all I thought they were generally cheering each other, but then I noticed with a start that the hundreds of eyes on either side were all looking down at me and my spectacular shoes! Many of them had the customary streamers to cascade from ship to shore, but some of them started using them to cascade me! I thought “What the heck!” and entered into the spirit of it by looking up to right and left and waving at them like a film star. If I’d been in my 4 ¾” ‘Alps’, I’d have treated them to some saucy ‘Catwalk flips’ of my heels, but I didn’t dare risk it in those 6” heels – I really would have taken a serious tumble. But nevertheless, looking up at my audience was my undoing. I had thought that the benefit of the ¾” wide bottoms to the Bettie Page heels was that that were too thick to get stuck between paving stones. But I had forgotten about tram-lines! Running along the entire quayside was a pair of tramlines for the cargo-loading crane to move up and down. Suddenly “Stog” – my right heel was jammed into the iron tram-line! A cheer went up from the hundreds of onlookers that was just as loud as the crew’s had been! Luckily I was already having to totter forward so slowly that this time I didn’t walk out of it, I just stood there trapped! Two or three officials started springing towards me, but luckily I managed to free my heel myself before they reached me. Upon this happening, another almighty cheer went up from everyone, and I looked up and waved at all the many hundreds of happy, smiling faces. Although the officials hadn’t quite reached me in time to help, they took a bow and received their own special cheer too!

By this time I was conscious that all the muscles in my body were tiring fast, and I could not sustain the tremendous effort of remaining erect in those 6” heels for much longer. My ankles and insteps had never been forced into such an unnatural position before. They felt as tightly
stretched as a drum. But fortunately, at last I was now abreast of the quayside entrance into the terminal building, and just as I sought refuge in there, the “Queen Elizabeth” began drawing away from the quay and all eyes now moved from me to the passengers and onlookers waving “Goodbye” or “Farewell” to each other.

As I reached the coffee lounge, and sat down, I had never, ever been more grateful and relieved to take the weight off my feet. My muscles were suddenly able to relax from the ordeal of combating the forward-thrust of those amazing 6” heels, and they all started quivering and trembling from the effort that they had just made. As I sipped a cup of coffee, despite all the embarrassment verging on humiliation from walking so awkwardly, and the sheer physical ordeal, in a funny sort of way I felt a real sense of triumph and even exhilaration at my achievement! With no proper practice or training whatsoever, I’d actually walked a full two or three hundred yards in high heels with the magic height of six inches! There was something very sexy about that vast crowd all following every minute step of my high-heeled shoes. Mind you, it was only during my second coffee that I suddenly reminded myself with a shock that I’d only got to the terminal building and not all the way back to London and to my home on Telegraph Hill!

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 17th June 2004, 06:57

Hi Everyone! I can hardly believe that I’ve now been on Jenny’s Forum for about a year now, and that in the process of writing my “Life in High Heels” story, I’ve reached my 50th chapter! Chapter 49 received another overwhelming flood of replies. My thanks to Jim, RPM, Mario, “Admirer”, Paul, Heelfan, Sinkem, Stu, Carl J, Erica, Candice and Serenity for their kind comments, and on MegaForums to repliers Dawn HH and Jeff M. Here is Chapter 50:

As I sat in the Southampton TransAtlantic Terminal finishing my second coffee, I felt my excitement coming back under control and I paused to look really closely at my new 6” high heeled court shoes for the first time. With legs crossed, I gazed down at my shoe, twisting my foot this way and that to see it from all angles. This pair fitted perfectly, and being made in the rounded style of the early fifties, the toe-box was very comfortable and did not pinch my toes. As the shoe’s toe did not project beyond my own toes, the toe-box was as short as it could be, making the heel look even higher by comparison; The uppers were fairly low-cut, but not nearly as low as “Pin and Needle” which had revealed considerable toe-cleavage. The uppers were in very high quality black calf leather, but it was the incredible heels that dominated the shoes, and looked unbelievably high as I sat wearing them! Visually, I had to admit that I’d never seen anything so stunning! No wonder those hundreds and hundreds of people had been cheering me as I teetered along in them so precariously! Seeing those heels looking so toweringly enormous on my little feet in that peaceful lounge, I could hardly believe that I’d managed to walk in them at all!

Oh dear! I was aware that my train to London would be leaving in less than an hour, and the “Betties” had already made all my muscles and sinews feel strained virtually to the limit. How could I totter my way to the station platform and walk it? I deliberately returned my coffee cup to the counter, gingerly mincing over to assess my ability to manage the imminent journey in 6” heels. Aaargh! – they now felt 7” or 8” high! “This is crazy!” I said to myself, gratefully lurching the last pace forwards to steady myself against the counter. Once there, I held on tight and rocked my heels from side to side to ease my fully-tensioned ankles. Then tried leaning both shoes inwards towards each other (what Jenny calls “leaning two bicycles together”) to greatly lessen the effective height of the heels whilst standing there. This took more doing than when wearing my familiar stilettos, because the broader “Bettie Page” heels tried to stabilise me, so ironically they were now hindering me rather than helping! I comforted myself by murmering “Well, Loo, in here at least you can quietly cheat these heels inwards without those crowds noticing”. But there was someone very much noticing! I was suddenly aware that a young married couple at the table beside me were gazing transfixed at my “Betties”, and were following every little move I made in them, looking totally fascinated!

“Pardon me” hesitated the girl, “We brought Ron’s parents down to the ship, and whilst waving at them sailing off, we looked down and saw your ‘exhibition walk’ in those amazing high heels you’re wearing. Ron says he’d never seen anything so attractive” (big blush from Ron) “So he wants to get a pair for me” she giggled very nervously, “Can we buy them somewhere, or were they specially issued to you by the shipping company for you to do those appearances in?”. I burst out laughing “No” I said, “Despite this nautical-looking navy blue suit I’m wearing, I don’t work for Cunard, and as for the ‘walk’, I was trying to find my way off the quay and I’ve never worn these shoes in my life before. They were given to me less than an hour ago by my boyfriend”. They looked down to gaze in wonderment at my shoes again, and I noticed to my embarrassment than I was still standing with the heels angled inwards at 45 degrees, so I hastily uprighted them again. “I’ve never seen anything so attractive!” re-iterate Ron. “But” hesitated the girl sheepishly, “Aren’t they difficult to walk in?”. “Well, that’s the trouble” I said, “I’ve only got small size 5 feet, and the sheer strain of having my insteps and ankles pushed up to this beyond-vertical position is already getting very difficult to sustain. In fact, I’m very worried about whether I can hold out in them long enough to get home to London”. “Look!” burst in Ron, “Tell you what! Don’t worry about that - our car is in the car park. We are motoring back up to Royston, North of London . We have to pass by London so we can offer you a lift to one of the West London Underground stations at least, can’t we Beryl?”.

I was so grateful, as it was all I could do just to teeter the short distance to their car. They insisted on seating me in the place-of-honour in the front, with Beryl sitting in the back. As Ron drove the speeding car northwards, they continued to chat about my ‘Betties’. “Can I actually hold one of your amazing shoes?” asked Beryl sheepishly. “Of course!” I chuckled, slipping off my left shoe and passing it back over my shoulder. The car swerved violently and d“Whoooops! Sorry!” yelled Ron. Instead of being on the road, his eyes had been staring at my shoe as it passed back behind him to Beryl. Then I noticed Ron surruptitiously leaning towards me to steal numerous glances into my foot-well to peep at my remaining right shoe. I thought to myself “I’d better not start dangling, otherwise he’ll have us off the road altogether!”, so I said to Beryl “So don’t you wear high heels already then?”. “Oh yes” said Beryl, fondling my shoe in her hands, “I didn’t used to, but since we got married Ron has encouraged me to start wearing heels – lowish at first and then higher. I didn’t see the point at first, but when I started wearing stilettos of 3” and over, things got more exciting, didn’t they Ron?”. “You can say that again!” enthused Ron. Beryl continued “But I haven’t been able to go much higher than 4” heels, because the small towns in our country area don’t stock anything higher, which has got Ron increasingly frustrated as time has gone on, hasn’t it Ron?”. Ron started looking very guilty and said “Well, it’s just that…” “Look” I interrupted, “I fully understand. It’s exactly like me and my Clarence except that I was already wearing higher-than-average heels before we met. It’s great to enter into the spirit of it by wearing and teasing and pleasing your fella with seductive high heels!”

They both looked so relieved that I already knew exactly what they were trying to say. I explained that my “Betties” were specially-made in New York at unimaginable expense, but I told them all about Regent Shoes and their stunning high heels, and about Velma and Madeline and all the other fascinating customers. “Wow” they both exclaimed simoultaneously, and they said they would try to go there to equip Beryl as their very earliest opportunity. Ron looked like the cat that had swallowed the cream! All the shoeie chatting had made the journey fly by, and all to soon they were dropping me off at Ealing Broadway tube station from which I could catch a District Line train to change at Charing Cross. As my 6” heels stepped out of Ron’s car I thanked them profusely and gave them my New Cross telephone number. I teetered from across from the road to the station entrance, looked back and Ron and Beryl were sitting in their stationary car still gazing in fascination at my teetery high-heeled progress. I gave them a final wave, bought my ticket and tackled the ordeal of descending to the underground platform. I always find that in all high heels it is much more difficult to go down stairs than it is up, and 6” heels magnified that enormously. On the underground train, I had the misfortune to share the carriage with a gang of young ruffians who spotted my unusual heels and plagued me mercilessly. “Fancy a good time dearie?” and “Come and see me sometime!” they taunted and chanted. Fortunately the got out before the train reached central London.

Whilst changing trains with virtually spent ankles at Charing Cross Station, I’d never seen so many hundreds of heads turning towards me and eyes gaping at me. I telephone Velma and Madeline to tell them I’d be back soon (with difficulty!), again leaning my heels inwards in the telephone box to ease my ankles! As I emerged from New Cross Station, every muscle in my feet and legs was searing with tension, and I did not know how in heaven’s name I was going to walk the quarter-mile up Pepys Road to the top of Telegraph Hill. But the cavalry were at the rescue, Velma and Madeline had come to meet me outside the station, and Velma said “Here, I thought you might want to change down into your 4” heels which I’ve brought along. I had never felt so relieved! I had the four-inchers on in a trice, and after the 6” “Betties” they felt as flat as a pancake! And of course, typical Madeline! - as soon as I changed out of my “Betties”, Madeline had them on her own feet and shot off ahead of us up the hill with knees and bottom sticking out, arms flailing for balance, and uttering plenty of giggles and “Whoopses”. As we laughed at Madeline’s antics, Velma said to me “What simply amazing shoes Loo!”. I replied “Well if there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it is that if you want maximum attention from every single stranger as far as the eye can see, try tottering along amongst London's public in 6” heels!”.

Love, Lucy

Lucy · 23rd June 2004, 10:10

Hi Everyone!

Firstly, my heartfelt thanks to everyone who replied to my Chapter 50 – Jim, RPM, Erica, Candice, Sinkem, Puffer, Stu and Paul, and also to Dawn and Mickey who replied on MegaForums. Secondly, my equally sincere thanks for the congratulations and good wishes on my reaching my 50th Chapter from Heelfan, Stu, RPM and Paul. I’ve been on Jenny's Forum for over a year now, and you all seem like old friends! Here’s Chapter 51:

Following my debut in 6” heels when seeing Clarence off on the “Queen Elizabeth”, I missed him more than ever. I perched those “Bettie Page” shoes on my bedroom mantle-piece where I could see them from my bed every night to remind me that Clarence had given them to me. The incredible 6” heels and short toe-box made the proportions of the shoes look fantastic and surreal. I could hardly believe they were really mine, and kept wondering how on earth I’d managed to walk in them at all! One night, I remember my bedroom being plunged into darkness because we had a sudden power cut. I lit a candle on my bedside cabinet and the guttering, flickering flame made shadows of the two astonishing shoes dance around on the wall of the chimney-breast. In those days, there were many tugs and cargo ships plying up and down the River Thames past New Cross, now sadly all gone. It must have been foggy that night, because the ship’s whistles and hooters and fog-horns echoed from the river up Telegraph Hill into my bedroom, plus the distant clank-clank-clanking sounds of goods wagons being marshalled along the London Docks into railway sidings by puffing steam engines. As long as I live, I will never forget lying alone and naked under the sheets, being transported into a macabre, shadowy make-believe world of eerie clanks, ghostly sirens and flickering flames with everything being dominated by those whirling, dancing, demonic shoe shadows! I reached within the bed for a non-existent Clarence, shed a tear of loneliness and eventually drifted into sleep amidst that devil’s carnival of sounds and the leaping spectres of high heeled shoes.

The following morning when I got up for work, I was back on reassuring planet Earth, and very bright and cheerful it was too. The Easter sun was streaming into the kitchen and Madeline had made the breakfast (partly as a “Sorry” for previously kidnapping my “Betties”, I suspected!). “Listen you two” exclaimed Velma, “To help take Loo’s mind off Clarence’s absence, it’s the Dail Mail’s Ideal Home Exhibition at Olympia this week, so let’s all go along on Saturday!”. Well, why not, though Madeline and I, so bright and early that weekend we dressed in some breezy tops and colourful knee-length skirts. Velma and I, mindful of all the walking and standing at exhibitions contented ourselves with our 4 ¾” stiletto ‘Alps’. Even scatty Madeline saw sense and denied herself her usual 5 ½” heels and slipped her feet into her own pair of ‘Alps’ that she’d recently purchased at Regent shoes. Also, shortly before, Madeline had been warned by the Hertfordshire health resort physiotherapist that her tendon-shortening problems would worsen if she did not do the tendon stretching exercises and ease up on wearing her highest heels.

The three of us gigglingly click-click-clicked our ‘Alps’ down the usual long steepness of Pepys Road, playing “Don’t step on the cracks” between all the paving stones. At Charing Cross train station we had to change from British Rail to the London Underground District Line for Kensington Olympia which meant us heel-tottering down the dreaded Villiers Street to Embankment tube station. Funnily enough, Puffer has just been communicating with me about Villiers Street, which, when descending in high heels, always seems twice as steep as Pepys Road down Telegraph Hill! “My God” said Velma, “This slope is nigh-on impossible - I’d never have managed it in my five-and-a-half inchers!”. I said “Try my going-downhill-trick of tilting inwards on both heels to lessen the effect of the slope”. Velma had long learned that dodge from me and the pair of us did it virtually automatically, but Madeline overdid it, and suddenly let out a loud squeal. To our horror both of her ‘Alps’ stilettos collapsed inwards, wrenching her ankles. The pavement was thronged with gentlemen passers-by. The spectacle of three girls trying to totter down that villainous slope in very high stiletto heels was probably eye-catching enough, but when one of them failed completely it seemed to attract the attention and amusement of the entire street! Whilst being helped back on to her feet by Velma and me, Madeline was conscious of what seemed like the eyes of a million men on her shoes. Her face reddened like a beetroot with sheer humilation and shame.

I was furious with myself, firstly because I had failed to warn Madeline about Villiers Street, having myself seen other girls having similar catastrophes trying to come down it, , as already mentioned in my Chapter 22 (there was a grandstand view from one of my favourite coffee shops half-way down), and secondly because I shouldn’t have expected Madeline to be able to control leaning stilettos instantly on such a steep incline. “Oh I’m so sorry Madeline” I blurted, and Velma and I grabbed an arm each and helped Madeline manage somehow to limp and hobble down to the tube platform. As we sat waiting for the train, Madeline said “That was a dreadful thing I did!”. “Yes” I sympathised, “How badly are your poor ankles hurting”. “No” said Madeline, “I don’t mean my ankles, in fact they’re getting over it quite well – it was the sheer embarrassment of turning over my high stilettos in front of all those people! I’ve never felt such an idiot or so ashamed!”. “Do you want us to take you back home?” asked a worried Velma. “No!” Said Madeline, “I’m a tough old stick and I don’t think I’ve broken or badly sprained anything. It was the sudden shock more than anything else. Look, here comes the Olympia train, let’s get going!”.

The train duly took us to the special end-of-line terminus beside the vast Olympia exhibition halls in Kensington, West London. We click-click-clicked along the side of the complex and around the corner to the entrance, with Madeline still wearing her ‘Alps’ but limping noticeably. Fortunately we were nice and early, so the queue hadn’t become too enormous. Upon entering the first huge, lofty hall, we came upon hundreds of exhibition stands, but we we struck by how little relevance many of them had to ideal homes! We hoped to find things to improve our rented 3-bedroomed house, and maybe one or two things for the rear garden. But early on we were confronted by stands selling electronic organs, plastic throw-away boomerangs that came back to you, baked potatoes of various English varieties sponsored by the Potato Marketing Board, a demonstration by an ancient, wizened Chinaman in making those incredible Chinese ivory puzzle-balls with many concentric spheres of ivory of different patterns within each other, and the BBC had an outside broadcast enclosed theatre area where they were doing live broadcasts from a different famous jazz bands. We saw the Chris Barber Jazz Band, and later on Mr Acker Bilk and his Paramount Jazz Band. They were great! As we walked deeper and deeper into the exhibition, we gradually started finding the sorts of home-improvement items we had been looking for. It was there that we saw our first dish-washer being demonstrated!

“Oooh look!” said Velma, stifling a shriek “There’s Hattie Jaques, the film star!”. Hattie Jaques was an extremely large comedienne who starred as the formidable matron in the “Carry On” films, and with Eric Sykes on television. As she walked past us along the aisle, we noticed that despite her huge weight and size, she was wearing 3 ½” stiletto heels. As we had all suffered from “toe burn” from time to time, we wondered what it must have been like for her with all that weight pressing down into the toe-box of her court shoes! Most of the public had been more sensible than Hattie Jaques and us, and because of a whole day of trudging along and standing, they were in low and flat shoes. However, some of the glamour-girls on the exhibition stands wore some lovely shoes! We got chatting to some of them here and there, asking where they got there shoes and vice-versa. They all loved our ‘Alps’, but were surprised that all three of us were wearing them for a whole day’s walking around the exhibition.

By mid-afternoon, Madeline’s right ankle was in a really bad way. Despite her earlier assurances that she had survived her heel-collapse in Villiers Street, it was looking noticeably purple and swollen. Just then, from the masses behind us, we heard an imperious “Madeline!”.
Madeline spun round and hissed to us “Oh no! It’s aunty Claudinia – she’s even worse than my mother – I’d forgotten that she lives nearby in Chiswick!”. A formidable twin-set-and-pearls-and-handbag battleaxe of a lady bustled out of the exhibition crowds towards us, ignored Velma and me, and with her face contorted in fury thundered “MADELINE! – What is the meaning of this! What on earth are you doing limping along on those tarty, unseemly high heeled shoes? I’ve never seen anything like them! You’re a spectacle! It’s a family disgrace! And look at that ankle! And who are these people? What your mother going to say when she hears about this?!!!!”

Love, Lucy
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