TG, magical feminization/sex-change, not distributable §§§§§§§§§
If The Shoe Fits
By Annie Warren
It was on our last trip to Europe that the whole thing re-
ally started.
Margo has always been wild about collecting oddities and
artifacts and antiques and art and ... Well, you get the idea,
she was like the shopper's shopper. She can shop until I
drop.
We would go there regularly where Marge would prowl in
bazaars and curie shops and just about any place that had
these trinkets or whatever else she found, whether tooked for
or not.
We got a lot of really very nice things in Strassbourg, in
France on the border of Germany, not far from the towering
cathedral.
It was in a little shop that she had spotted and dragged
me where she found something a hit out of the ordinary.
Well, it was a bit then, though it was to prove to be more
later.
"Fred, look at that. Did you ever see a pair that looked
like that?"
I heard her voice, but did not see her.
She was probing back in some dusty corner that no
doubt had not been probed for years. She had a penchant for
that,
"Huh? What pair? What did you find this time? Where
are you?"
"I'm back here." Her head popped up and I moved toward
her, pushing some stuff aside.
I wasn't sure what the object, made of some ornately
carved wood, was that I was sidestepping, but it was in my
way. It is great to be slim and trim, but sometimes even that
doesn't help in some of these overcrowded, heaped and piled
up shops. When I started back, her head went down again
only to bob up again when I rounded a table full of thingama-
bobs.
In her hand she had a shoe, a high heeled shoe.
"Isn't this the most beautiful pair of shoes you have ever
seen?"
Well, I suppose it was. But, on the other hand, high
heeled shoes are not something I have made a study of
though she wore them all the time.
She wore the highest of heels, thus being much more of
an expert than I. She handed one to me and I examined it. It
was apparently made of some sort of red satin and studded
wfth what looked like a collection of gems that sparkled and
twinkled even in the dim light in the back of the shop. The
heels were black and towered a good 10, 11 or even more
centimeters.
To me they seemed a bit heavy, especially the heel but
the rest of it was light and apparently of a very fine workman-
ship.
Now as stated, I knew that Marge had a predilection for
high heeled shoes, usually wore them whether with slacks,
ski pants or just about any of her lovely skirts.
At 25, like me, she had the youthful vigor and indeed,
she had a body that was more lithe than mine. She also had
a good figure, yeah, real good that I really appreciated.
I was taller than she was and she had to have her very
highest heels on to come up eye to eye with me.
We were both blond too, but she had really long wavy
hair while mine was down to about an inch above my collar
and straight. Of course, she was also beautiful. If she had
ever married me for my money, which I had actually inher-
ited shortly after our marriage, then I could easily say that I
had married her for her beauty, that and the fact that I was
madly in love with her. .. in spite of her shopping mania.
I looked again more closely at the shoe. It was spotless
on top, no scuff marks or even wrinkles or creases. Turning
over the one in my hand, I saw that it seemed to have been
used somewhat but was still in extraordinarily good shape.
The only problems that I could see with them other than as
art objects, was that they were obviously not the most mod-
ern fashion, actually being hard to pin down as to when land
if) they had been in fashion, and, too, they were decidedly
way too large for Marge.
"Yes, Marge." I said with a bit of tolerance creeping into
my voice. "They are beautiful, but they are obviously old fash-
ioned and are definitely not your size."
"Oh Fred, that doesn't matter. They are fust gorgeous. We
could put them in the den with the French Provincial."
"Uh, Marge, I don't think the style is French Provincial,
though I could be wrong."
"Well, who cares. As far as I am concerned, they are beau-
tiful and are French and that is where we will put them."
With that she took the shoe from me, put it with the
other one and headed for the shop keeper with me trailing be-
hind.
The shop keeper was fussing with something or other up
front by the door. He was a wizened, little old man with
thinned white hair under some sort of cap that he wore on
the back of his head. He had a long beard that was as white
as the hair on his head. He was almost a caricature of what
wizened, little old shop keepers should look like. And, he,
most likely, like the caricature he looked like, was quite
ready to make a sale. He looked up and smiled when he saw
Margo approaching.
Margo opened but forgot the word for shoes, "Monsieur,
je vu ses, .. uh, ses. ..
"You wish buy shoes, Madame?" Maybe this shop was not
so far off the tourist routes as I thought or else he was an ex-
ceptional shopkeeper. It wasn't correct English, but was no
doubt a lot better than our French.
"Yes, I mean Oui!"
"Tres bien, mais c'est impossible." At this he smiled a
quite crooked smile like at a secret joke.
"What do you mean impossible?" By now I had caught up
with her and had heard her reply.
"Madame, shoes sold only man." He replied in his broken
English. Then he looked at me and continued, "So, I sell you,
but not wife."
His smile was now that of the shopkeeper trying to please
a customer for a sale.
I looked rather incredulously at him, almost totally ignor-
ing his bad English that said he would sell me but would not
sell my wife. Like all husbands, I'm sure, there are times that
I wished that I could sell her, but that was another matter al-
together. So, he wouldn't sell the shoes to my wife but would
sell them to me?
This wasn't making any sense.
0-0-0
"Oh Fred, let's see what he wants for them and if reason-
able, let's buy them. I must have them. .. if they are reason-
able.
"How much? Á quel prix?" I tried my French on him,
none too sure of how good it was.
He looked down at the shoes for an instant and then
said, "quarante-cinq franc et vingt-cinq centimes.
"Uh, forty-five francs and twent-five centimes?" I don't be-
lieve my ears. My mind was doing translation tables and that
seemed to me to be dirt cheap for such relies, whether or not
Margo could put them on. It wasn't as if they were flimsy
cardboard or some such, for I had looked them over reason-
ably well. They were well made, apparently hand made, and
should have been quite expensive.
"We'll take them, right Fred.?" Marge burst out almost be-
fore I had finished Saying the sum, and she Lmmediately
started rooting in her purse for the proper number of francs
With the variance of the value of the fianc, I don't remember
what it was, but he was p'actically giving them to me.
He shook his head no and then looked at me over a pair
Of spectacles perched low on his nose. They looked like they
were older than the shoes or, for that fact, than anything else
in this antiquated shop. "Seulement pour vous, Monsieur.
Only to you and you must sign for them."
French and broken English all the time and suddenly a
clear line of good English. I had the feeling that this line had
probably been given to him, perhaps in a number of lan-
guages? Whateuer.
"He insists that I buy them, dear," I Said to Marge and it
was my turn to dig for my wallet. As I made that move, he
reached under hhe counter and got out a small ledger. It
looked older than 8ny of the objects in the shop other than
his glasses and had more dust on it than was usual. Appar-
ently, not too many people had to signfor things here. Yet he
opened it somewhere in the middle almost to the last entry.
I Started counting out the money as he wrote an entry in
the book. Marge nudged me and asked me in a low voice if
we shouldn't try bargaining. I replied in a lower voice that if
she really wanted them, that bargaining could probably lose
them for her. The price was ridiculously low for such uh, arti-
facts and I did not feel like pressing it.
The owner then spun the ledger as I had the money
ready. He pointed to the entry. I read it:
"1 Pr Shoes, sold to ______________ to be resold only to a
man at a price equal to or less than price paid. Fr 45.25 Received
from _______________________"
He pointed to the first blank underlined spot and said
simply, "Please print name".
What a pain, I thought, but if Margo is to be satisfied,
Okay. I printed my name in it. He then pointed to the second
space and said, "sign please..."
He took the money and counted it out as I signed the
ledger. As I signed I looked at some of the previous entries.
They were hard to read but seemed to be for various trinkets.
The degrees to which the ink had faded looked like I had
been right, nothing had been signed for in it for years.
Why now? Why this pair of shoes? If that's what he
wants, then I'll appease Marge and do it.
When I finished signing, he closed the book and put it
back under the counter and smiled now the smile of a suc-
cessful salesman. Then, reaching yet again under the
counter, he produced several pages from some old newspa-
pers and proceeded to wrap up the shoes. It seemed appropri-
ate to have such a cheap wrapping for such cheap shoes,
well, cheap in price for such expensive looking and feeling rel-
ies. He then gave them to me, placing them directly in my
hands while avoiding the outstretched hands of Marge as
she reached to take them. The smile then faded as I took
them and a touch of sadness passed over his face.
"Monsieur, the shoes are yours; please remember condi-
tions." When I looked puzzled, what conditionsi, he pulled
out the book again and popped it open, pointed to the line,
and I reread the conditions, strange conditions. Okay, what-
ever you want.
I smiled back and replied, "Merci beau coup.
"Rien du tout, Monsieur, absolu rien du tout" he said as
we headed out the door with her prized shoes in my hands.
What a strange man, what a strange deal, and what an even
stranger thing to say to us. I'm glad we're leaving.
Out of earshot, Marge bubbled. "What a steal, Fred. I'll
bet that some of those stones, if not all of them, are real.
They looked too good in that bad light to be fake. Oh, this is
what coming to Europe gives us. Oh goodly goody!" I was
afraid she might bubble over.
"Well, you'll never wear them Marge, so I hope they look
good with the decor, wherever you put them. That sure was
an odd, small ritual that I had to go through."
"What do you mean ritual?
"Signing his book for the shoes. I had to sign that I would
sell them only to a man and for a price that is equal or less
than the price I paid' That was his reference to the condi-
tions. It is reminiscent of the story of the "Bottled Imp" by,
who was it, Poe? or was it Stevenson? How many things have
we ever bought over here that we had to sign for?"
There was a silence as we walked along for a bit until she
replied, "Now that you mention it, I don't remember any. I
see now why you call it strange. That was an odd ledger too.
"There were many entries that were older, much older. It
is as if he had a stock of items that were all sold out, all of
which required a signature. I wonder where he got the Eng-
lish for that receipt."
"Oh well, we got the best of him anyway, didn't we, Fred?"
"I suppose. Want to go look at the cathedral now?"
With that the shop and the strange ritual passed into his-
tory, over but not forgotten. We would have forgotten it alto-
gether except that we had that newspaper wrapped pair of
shoes, remarkably mine, as I had paid and signed for them.
But, they got tossed in with the otherjunk that Marge
bought and were eventually shipped back home, arriving a
whole two months after we got back.
But now we were headed for the cathedral and then on-
wards. ..
0-0-0
It was like Christmas to get-that crate of stuff. I remem-
bered some of the things that we had sent but not all. Marge
seemed to remember what I had forgotten, she has a sharp
memory. We opened it and started pulling out the relies.
When you have been away for a while you remember the trip,
not what necessarily all the things you bought. Now the pur-
chases can remind one anew of the trip. There eras some or-
nate glassware from Italy, some beautifully carved castanets
from Spain, some lace from Czechoslovakia and then there
were those shoes from France. They were still wrapped in the
cheap newspaper. I unwrapped them in the relatively
brightly lit den where we were unpacking and found them re-
ally elegant and, yes, as Marge had said, beautiful.
The other things were unpacked and either hung, stood,
perched, or whatever, where she felt best or, repacked and,
almost sheepishly, relegated to that attic storage area that no
one else ever saw. Our house has a large spacious attic that
had been slowly filling up over the years. Marge never
seemed to get rid of her mistakes. Perhaps she thought she
might change her mind, or else maybe she just did not want
anyone else to know that she had made such a foolish pur-
chase in the first place. Whatever.
Well, the shoes did not go with the French Provincial.
They also did not go in her closet but actually ended up in a
glass case with some really fine china and porcelain. I had to
agree that they looked almost like they had been made of por-
celain. And there they sat until....
0-0-0
I had long forgotten the shoes and all of the riff-raff that
went along with them. Oh, I saw them every so often like
when you see a door you pass through. You see it yet you
don't try to remember the last door you opened. Was there
anything special about it? Or the tenth door back. They were
just a part of the furniture.
0-0-0
The occasion was just a summer get-together with a cou-
ple of our friends, George and Martha Simpson. We had a
pleasant meal prepared by our cook and had retired to the
study for some after dinner coffee. Oh yes, the study was our
"both room". The den was supposed to be mine and the sew-
ing room Margo's. The dining room, kitchen, living room,
bathroom, and of course our bedroom were the rooms on the
flrst floor. All of them were roomy too, as it was a large
house. I think some of the rooms had been originally desig-
nated as bedrooms as they had closets and there was, come
to think of it, another bathroom in there somewhere too. But
we had re-designed them.
Having no children nor wanting any, there was no need
for more bedrooms anyway. Our "children" was Marge's col-
lectton, in a way, as it used up the space that children might
have used. Children were a moot point anyway since Marge,
bless her soul, just could not have any. It is one of those
facts that she had long since accepted. On the other hand, I
wasn't so sure that I would ever want children. I still valued
my independence, especially when I had inherited the money
to go with it. Being in our mid-twenties, we were enjoying life
to the hilt. And with no regrets.
Well, we had brought our cups in from the dining room
and were browsing our mini-museum's exhibits.
When we came to the case with the shoes in them,
George whistled and commented, with his "flair" for descrip-
tion, "Now, there's a set of spikes with more flash than the
Hope Diamond."
"Yeah, we picked them up in France, Strassbourg, in a lit-
tle curie shop. Marge found them and just had to have them.
I have to admit that they are pretty in a garish sort of way.
"You know, George, that was a strange set up," Marge
added. "The shop-keeper wouldn't sell them to me but only
to ked."
Martha looked at the shoes and then at Marge's feet.
"Well, Marge, it must have been obvious to him that they
would never fit your feet. I know how much you like to wear
high heels though. I really don't like them all that much, my-
self." She looked down at her flats and then at Marge's heels,
worn even for this casual get-together. "You could try two feet
in one shoe though," she added with a smile.
"Just because they don't fit is no reason to just leave
them there in the dust and darkness. Maybe I'll pad them
and try them on sometime or something or just leave them
on display, like this. They are too pretty to hide. Actually, I
was sort of miffed by the shop owner, but the price was a
steal, so I sort of let Fred do the talking and buying"
"And signing." I had to add, "For some reason the owner
wanted me to sing for the dumb things. No other shop we
ever visited seemed to want me to do that." At that point i re-
iterated the whole story from entry into the shop, to finding
the shoes, to the process of buying them.
"Ok, Fred, you got a bargain," George said, then asked,
"Ever have the stones examined, you know, evaluated? Think
of the height of the steal if they turned out to be real gems.
Who knows how old they are or who had ever worn them? In
Europe, shoes like that, could hold mysteries and have histo-
ries that could lead anywhere. Some people think that crys-
tals have powers, you know.
"Oh come off it. That's new age stuff and not old world
stuff."
"Yeah, but new age stuff had to come from somewhere
and it could just as well have been old world."
"You sound like they're mysterious and full of power."
"You know the story of the red shoes that caused the
wearer to dance herself to death."
"That's not the way I heard it, but it was just a fable, a
story made up to keep the children in line during the dark
ages or somewhere thereafter." With that I moved on and
showed Martha some of the Czechoslovakian lace. For the
moment the shoes were forgotten, at least for the moment.
0-0-0
It was later, when we were sitting eating coffee cake after
looking at some slides of our last European trip, that they
came up again. In our visit to the Cathedral, we had gone
high into the tower and out onto the upper ramp and taken
pictures of Strassbourg. On one of them I pointed out the
street where the shop with the shoes had been. You could
not see the shop but could well see the Fachwerk of the
houses and the narrow winding streets.
George, would not let the topic go. "Margo, have you ever
tried on the shoes?"
"What shoes?"
"The sparklers you got in Strassbourg."
"Oh heavens no, I can see at a glance that they are too
large for me.":
"You ever try them, Fred?"
Hey man, leave it alone. I don't wear ladies shoes, much
less high heeled ones."
"You know, Fred," Marge piped in, "theyjust might fit
you.." She got up and went to the case, opened it and pulled
out the shoes.
"Not you too, Marge. I'm not about to try them on, any
more than the shopkeeper probably didn't. He was glad to
see them go, if I remember correctly.
She placed them down by my feet and knelt there. "Let's
just see. Now I AM curious. See? they look like they are the
nlght size..
"Cut it out, Marge. Why should I want to wear such
shoes?"
"Just to satisfy my curiosity, if nothing else." She smiled
up at me with a slight twist in her lip. "After all, they ARE
your shoes, you know. You even signed for them so you
might as well at least try them on. It can't hurt. .. please?"
The smile had changed to a sort of pleading request.
"Oh all right, if you think I should, go ahead and give it a
try, if it will make you happy.
These people are driving me crazy about these shoes. If
trying them on would end it, then I'd do itjust to get on to
otherthings.
"Maybe you shouldn't, Fred, you never know what will
happen. "
Well, that was the one thing George could say for sure to
get me to do it, so, I offered no resistance when Marge took
off my shoes. I had on some very thin socks, almost as thin
as nylons, so she didn't take them off. With a deft motion she
fltted my right foot into the shoe.
It fit.
In fact I felt what seemed to be some kind of odd, pleas-
ant warmth from it. Of all things, it even seemed to be com-
fortable in spite of the angle that my ankle now had when my
foot, uh..., shoe was "flat" on the floor.
She sat back on her haunches. "Well, I'll be. Look at that!
It fits better than many of mine do. Maybe that is why the
shopkeeper sold them only to you, though I can't guess how
he would have known. Let's try the other one too.
She pulled off my other shoe and then put the other high
heeled sparkler on my left foot, but, before my foot settled in,
it met with some resistance.
I stopped her and reached down and took it off. I then
probed down into it with my fingers and, down in the toe, I
found a tightly folded piece of paper which I extracted. As I
opened it up, Marge took the shoe and again fitted it onto my
left foot. Now, without the paper in it, like the right one, it fit
too and had the same pleasant warmth and comfort. Even
though both of my ankles were at a rather odd, high angle,
being bent by the height of those high, black, shiny heels be-
neath the red satin upper, they felt comfortable. Odd.
The paper had writing on it. At the bottom it was dated
early in 1921 and was hand printed in some sort of anti-
quated script or something that was hard to read. There was
a signature at the bottom but it was in old German script
and was totally illegible to me. The text was in German and
was badly faded, totally disappearing in many places. We'd
bought the shoes in a French shop but they must have been
German or at least had been sold by a German. I silently
read through the parts visible; it said, sort of --
Warnung! Gefahr! Achtung! Warnung!
Diese Schuhe sind des Teu... ... .... ....ubert.
Sie müssen sie gleich jet.. ... .HNE ... .......... zerstören!
Der Mann der sie anzieht ist v.......
... ... ...ritt muss er nehmen und fängt das Geschlecht....... ..
.r wird in einer .... .......elt ohne jegliche Rückzug!
Je länger sie getr.... ... den je schneller werden Sie ver........
... .eiss sowas ist mir und und zwei Freunde, jetzt F......., ...siert.
ZIEHE die Schuhe ..... AN!
... ...... sie nicht zerstören können nach ... ... ....... ange..... hat,
sowas weiss ich genau.
Da einer meinen zwei Fre......... .... ....nger ist, weiss ich bes-
cheid dass ... ......ngen volständig sind!
Ich weiss dass ich .... ........ ....... rfähig bin
Ich bin jetzt kom.... ... .... die Schuhe aufgeden aber nur zum
V.......
... f..fe dass Sie besseres aus ihnen kriegen
Meine Rö... .... ....n aber ich sollte Hos... ... ......, .... .... ....
tten.
Folge mein Schic..... .....!
......re die Schuhe wenn möglich oder s....... .........!
... ... n ohne Hoffnung!
Strassburg den 3.IV.21
(2 line Sinature) "
As I was reading what I could, I was getting very little out
of it, at first. I then read it out loud to the others, but they
apparently knew even less German than I did, and they all
had blank looks on their faces.
"So, ked, what does it mean? I don't remember enough
German to get more than that it is some kind of warning?"
George asked.
"I'm not sure. I could do a betterjob of translation with a
dictionary. Some of the words I did not know at all."
So, I simply arose, went into my den and retrieved my
German-Engllsh dictionary and a pad of paper and returned
to them. When I came back in, they were all staring at me.
"What are you guys looking at"
"Fred," Marge exclaimed. "You just up and walked into
the den on those high heeled shoes like they were your bed-
room slippers.
"As smooth as the silk on them," added Marlha. "Where
did you ever learn to walk in such high heels, Fred? Do you
have a past that we should know about? or maybe shouldn't
know about? It took me years to get to the point that I could
wallr in high heels without wobbling all over the place!"
I sat back down a bit red-faced.
"No, Ijust didn't think of it. Now, let me see if I can trans-
late this...". While they gabbed about my miraculous act,
that I didn't understand myself, I looked up a bunch of
words that I did not know and finally came out with a sort of
broken translation of the broken text, holes and all. I got
their attention and read it to them:
"Warning, danger, attention, warning
"These shoes are of the *** You have to *** destroy. The
man who put them on is *** must he take and starts the sex
*** will become *** without any retreat(?); The longer he or
she *** the faster you will *** such (something) to me and
two friends *** DRAW the shoes *** they cannot destroy after
*** so much I know exactly. Since one of my *** is ***. I am
now *** the shoes give up but only to *** that you receive bet-
ter from them. My *** but I long for *** Follow my *** the if
possible or *** without hope.
"Strassburg the second of April 1921"
After I had read it to them, they were quiet for a bit, deep
in thought, musing about it I guess.
"It seems to indicate danger, but from what? It doesn't
say when or where they has been lost. Is there a chance to re-
coup it and see what it really says7" asked Marge. "Do you
think you should wear them, Fred.
"Oh pooh, Marge. You don't believe in magic do you?
They would have to be magic in order for there to be any
kind of danger at all. And, besides, what could a pair of
shoes do? "
"Well, ked," said George, "maybe you had better take
them oh, anyway. It was a bit scary seeing you walk out of
here and back in them like you had been wearing such shoes
all your life." He looked over at Martha with a sort of sheep-
ish grin. "Itre watched enough women wearing high heels
and know that many women, even after long years of prac-
tice still have a definite ankle wiggle to their gait. You still do
that, Martha."
"I thought I had gotten rid of that. Oh well, I don't wear
heels that often anyway, but maybe you're night." She turned
to me. "I think that you should take them off ked. That note
indicates some sort of danger."
"First you drive me to put them on and now you drive to
pull them off. Sheess! You just can't please some folks. Ok,
Margo, take them off."
Margo looked at me somewhat disdainfully, but she did
come over and kneel before me and easily pulled them off.
Oddly my toes stayed pointed down until she put my shoes
back on. She then took the shoes and put them back into
the cabinet as I shifted a bit. I found I had an initial ten-
dency to sit with my toes pointed. It was odd, but for a short
time I almost felt like I was still wearing the shoes.
"Maybe I can go over to the university and see if they can
recoup the missing words. I am curious what the message
says.
"You do that, Fred, and let me know what it says. I too
am curious now. It sounds sexy somehow. Actually, I'd like
to go along and see how it's done, if that is possible and you
don't mind."
"If you want, George. but it may take a while."
"I can take it over if you don't want to go"
"No, I'll do it. After all they ARE my shoes, you know.
My turn to point it out, right?
"Have it your way, but remember that I am interested
and would like to go along when you go."
At that, the topic was dropped and we went on to other
things, ending late at night. It is nice to be independently
wealthy; you don't have to worry about getting up early in
the morning to go off and do some kind of work or such.
Yechh! Especially if it is for someone else!
0-0-0
When I arose the next morning nothing seemed out of
the ordinary. I did my morning ablutions and got dressed. I
put on some really comfortable running shoes and went out
to have breakfast. Marge had arisen earlier and was sitting
at the table reading the paper when I came in. We made
small talk about this and that and what was new in the pa-
per that I then read. On the topic of what to do for the day, I
said that I thought I'd play some golf. She reminded me of
the note and I said that there was no hurry. I would get to it
in due time. I wanted some exercise today and visiting the
University would not give me the exercise I wanted. She
smiled and said that she was going to play in the garden and
let it go. We had a gardener but some areas of our yard were
designated as Marge's and he left them alone for her to play
in, or with, as the case may be.
The shoes and that mysterious note in German were not
a high priority in my book. I'd get to it when I had time.
Well, I played golf and enjoyed the sun and some of my
friends and returned home about mid-afternoon. Marge was
still puttering in the garden and I came in, took a shower
and went for a cold beer. I had put on a cool shirt and a pair
of shorts that let my hairy legs stick out. Marge never said
anything about the hair on my legs, but I occasionally noted
a look of somewhat concealed repugnance on her face when I
wore shorts. As for me, I didn't mind, never had.
As I passed the case, however, I noticed the shoes, or
was it the shoes that noticed me? I stopped and opened the
case and pulled one out. I looked out at Marge and then
pulled out the other one and went to the kitchen table where
the light was somewhat better. Not knowing why. I kicked off
my shoes and put the heels on.
Again there was almost a warmth. It is hard to describe.
It is like wearing a pair of gloves that have been well broken
in to your hands. They go on and fit just right. As I stood, I
could not help but notice the change in perspective. You
don't rise 11 or more centimeters above where you normally
stand in an area that you are almost overly used to seeing
from a lower perspective, and not notice it unless you never
look around. I walked easily over to the fridge and pulled out
a beer. Again, oddly, I decided this time to be more elegant
and got a glass. Somehow pulling on a beer bottle just didn't
seem right. So, I got the glass and poured the beer into it
and then walked easily over to the window and watched
Margo, down on her knees weeding or planting or something.
It was good that she had hobbies like that.
I forgot all about the shoes.
I walked into the den and went to my computer. I had
been writing about some of my adventures in Europe. Soon I
was engrossed in the word processor as I wrote and rewrote
what we had seen and where, and what we had bought. I
had a pile of receipts and notes and was simply carried away.
Quite some time later, I heard the door open as Marge
came in. She went to the Mdge and got herself an iced tea. I
then heard her call out.
"Free? Must you leave your things lying about?"
It brought me out of the writing and i began to shut it
down. "What things, dear"
"You left your shoes in the kitchen."
I suddenly remembered the heels I was wearing and
looked down. Yes, they were still on I had totally forgotten
them but was now semi-forcefully reminded. I reached down
and quickly pulled them ofi. I figured I could get them back
before Marge noticed and so tip-toed to the case and put
them in. I took two steps towards the kitchen when she came
out carrying the shoes I had sloughed off..
"Is this a new mode of dress? Are socks in?" She grinned
as she looked down at my feet. "Really, Fred, on this carpet,
there is no reason to tip toe; I wouldn't hear you anyway
even if you had been weaning wooden clogs."
I looked down, saw that I was still on toe tips and so put
my foot flat, only there seemed to be a slight, momentary dis-
comfort that disappeared almost before I noticed it and that
could not be pinned down. She brought me my shoes and I
put them on. All was normal again and the twinge or what-
ever it was, was quickly forgotten.
0-0-0
That evening we went over to the Warren's together. He
was the president of the bank and she was the head of the lo-
cal PTA. Their children had grown and flown, so to say, and
they were enjoying the good life, a bit belatedly, as we were,
though we were a heck of a lot younger. It was a delightful
evening and we returned rather late.
We came into the house and I decided I wanted a drink of
cold water and so went to the Mdge and got some ice cubes
that I put in a glass ofwater. As I walked out, I could see in
the dim light from the kitchen the jewels on the shoes that
seemed to be sparkling and almost winking. I walked over
and looked at the shoes. They were remarkable and even
more remarkable was their fit. I wished my regular shoes felt
as good. Of course, none of them made me as tall as these. It
was strange.
Well, I had my drink and so went off to bed and a restful
sleep.
0-0-0
In the morning, try as I might to ignore them, I couldn't
help but think of those damned shoes. I was convinced that
they were the most comfortable shoes I had ever worn, yet,
how could that be? They had heels as tall as if not taller than
any high heel that Marge had and for sure higher than any
that Martha had by far. Although she would probably argue
with me, I don't think any of Martha's high heels really quali-
fled for high, being probably no higher than 5 or at most 7
centimeters. Yet here were these, easily double that and I
had found them comfortable. It was, as the logicians say,
counter-intuitive.
I pulled out the note again and tried again to read it. I
found that by holding it up to the light I could get a couple
more letters and see where others were, but could get no
more than I already had understood. With this side obses-
sion with the shoes, I decided to see if I could find out what
the note really did say. A few phone calls should lead me to
some help somewhere.
As I sat down with the phone book, I heard Marge come
into the living room. She came over to me and said that she
was going to go visit the Thorntons. They were a new family
in the neighborhood and they had children. She was doing
one of her "PTA Welcome Wagon" type house calls. Even
though we did not have children, Marge had managed to be
active in the PTA. Another of her "hobbies". I knew she would
not be back before mid-afternoon.
Seeing the phone book and the note, she asked, "Going
to find out what it says? Well, I'll be back this afternoon. You
enjoy yourself."
She kissed me lightly and was off.
I watched her go, heard the front door close, and then
heard her car pull out of the garage. The sound died in the
distance and was gone. I sat watching the door after she left
all that time musing to myself. Since I was anticipating going
to the university, I put on a short sleeved dress shirt, a good
pair of slacks and my black shoes. When the sound of her
car could no longer be heard, I snapped out of the musing
and looked at the note. I did not read it, just looked at it.
Then after several moments, I looked at the shoes, said a
"what the hell" to myself and took off my shoes.
Again I was wearing thin socks. I walked over to the case,
opened it, and, in two easy moves, put my high heeled shoes
on. Now I saw more of the tops of the shelves than before.
But instead of pondering this new angle, I pondered how the
shoes would feel with some nylons on, thinking that I should
really wear nylons with these shoes, nylons with a nice lacy
garter belt holding them up or a nice snug corset. When
these thoughts flashed in my mind, I shook my head and
they evaporated.
Strange.
This was the first time I had put them on where the sun
could hit them. The other day I had been inside and the
shades had been drawn except in the kitchen. Now I walked
over to the large windows in the breakfast nook (called so be-
cause there were large windows facing eastwards) where sun
was still streaming in.
I must say that the shoes in sunlight were nothing short
of stunning. The gems, small as they were, caught the light
and reflected it and refracted it and twinkled and shone and,
well, just made the most of any light that came to them. I al-
most felt blinded when I moved my feet in this bright light.
How could anybody even think of destroying such
beauty, I wondered if they had been made by some artist
that may have signed them or something, but they felt so
comfortable that I just did not want to take them off even to
look for such tokens.
I moved into the kitchen and got a second cup of coffee
and carried it back to the sun in the nook where I could
watch the further effects of the sunlight on the high heels as
I sipped the hot liquid. They were nothing short of mesmeriz-
ing.
I sipped my coffee and watched the shoes, extending first
one leg, then the other. I was amazed that I felt no discomfort
nor difficulty at all in balancing on either foot, both of which
was now shed in women's very high heeled shoes. There
wasn't an ounce of masculinity anywhere in these shoes. On
the other hand, the thought struck me that maybe these
shoes were older than that, extending back into the period
when men wore them. If that were true, however, there
should be more wear on them, But the wear was compara-
tively light. I pulled the current foot up and twisted it to see
the bottom. Yes, there was definite wear, but not much. If
anything, it almost looked more like well worn shop samples,
but there were most likely no shoe stores around when these
were made. 1921 was a top date, definitely not a bottom one!
Finally, my cup was empty. I looked at the clock and
noted that I had been gazing at the shoes and sipping coffee
for almost an hour. I moved back to the chair where the note
still sat on the table. I got out a pad of paper for notes and re-
ferrals and started looking up numbers.
Who should I call first?
I won't bore you with the search. To begin with, I got half
a dozen "not here" replies to the query if they did such, and a
dozen referrals. While I thought it would be a piece of cake to
do, finding someone who would do it was another matter. I
got suggestions like doing it myself with ultraviolet light or in-
frared light. Suggestions, yes, but they wouldn't do it.
By noon I had exhausted the university's resources. Oh it
could be done, most likely, they reassured me; only, no one
there had the time, or would take the time. I thought sum-
mer would be a time of rest and relaxation. Well, so did they.
Many were gone for the Summer and those that had stayed
all professed to be either overworked with summer teaching,
or too engrossed in their own research projects to have extra
time. Some were obviously annoyed that some other col-
league had suggested I call them.
I got up and strolled into the kitchen to make some sand-
wiches and a new pot of coffee. I looked out at the blue sky
and the warm sun and thought that I should be playing golf,
or working on one of my cars or... just out there.
While standing there looking out, I caught my reflection
in the large window and again realized I still had the heels
on. It never ceased to be a wonder that I could have such
high heeled shoes on and not really feel them or the height of
their heels. I felt as comfortable as if I was wearing my well
broken in bedroom slippers.
When the pot was ready, I took it, the sandwiches, a
plate, and a cup with me out to the phone. The table had 6
sheets of paper littered with notes, names and scribbling. I
cleared the notebook and nibbled the sandwiches and sipped
coffee as I thought of who else to call. Then I thought that
such things were routinely being done by the FBI or the po-
lice. I scribbled them down as possibles. I wondered why no
one at the university had suggested them? I guess academia
is too often wrapped up in academia; nothing else exists out-
side of their "ivory towers". I looked through the index of the
yellow pages but got no more leads there.
There was an 800 number for the FBI, so they were prob-
ably not local or didn't want to be known as local. Under the
police department there was no lab listed, only an non-emer-
gency number. I called it and found that again, yes they
could do it but wouldn't. Their laboratories were limited to
criminal forensics and such and had no time nor funding for
private enquiries. But they gave me the number of an inde-
pendent laboratory that might be able to do it. I called them
and, after all the previous hours and so many referrals, got
at least an, "It most likely can be done. I think we can do it,
bnlng it in and we'll look at it". The first date that I could do
this was over a week away, so I made an appointment and
hung up.
Remembering George, I called him up, and he was home.
I told him of the appointment and he repeated that he
wanted to go along and so we set it up.
I sat by the phone for a bit after I hung up. If there was
danger, should George know about irZ Did I want him know-
ing about my foollshnesses? Well, it was done and I could
not think of a good excuse to back out of it. I emptied my
cup and took the pot back to the kitchen.
I then remembered one of my notebooks for my manu-
script that was still in my car. So, I decided to go and get it
out of my car. So I went to the door and stepped out onto the
cement of the garage.
I was suddenly acutely aware of my footwear, not from
the feel, that hadn't changed, but from the noise of the heel
as it hit the cement. It was nerve shattering at first and I
stopped cold, thinking that everyone with a one mile radius
could hear me and wonder what the clatter was. Marge's
shoes had never made quite so much noise. Picking up one
foot I noticed something that I had totally forgotten: the heel
for all of its height was apparently iron, explaining their dis-
parity in weight. The small bit of metal at the tip was not a
tack, like so many of Marge's shoes had, but the worn off
end of the core. To move was to "bang" these metal spikes on
the cement, to make a htck of a lot of noise to my ears. I
tried to tip toe, but the heel was taller than my tipping could
toe and I still made noise. Not as much, but far from silent.
Since no one could see me (hear? yes, see? no), I finally
just strode forth, noise and all, and got my notebook and
then went back into the house. By now it was after one in
the afternoon. Marge was sure to be coming back in, but
when? With the greatest of regret, I want back to my shoes
where I shucked the heels and put my own on.
There was still that slight discomfort, stronger this time,
but it did not last, nor could I pin it down. Nonetheless, I
had a tendency to want to walk on my toes. There was an
even stronger desire to put those towering teasers back on,
but I resisted. It was even tough to take them back to the
case. But I put them back in and then forgot the notebook
and went off to my computer where, instead of writinn. I
played games until Marge got back. I had little concentra-
tion. I told her of the appointment and she took the note and
put it in with the shoes, "where we'll KNOW where it is."
That night we watched TV and retired early.
That night for the first time, I failed to get it up. Ijust
could not get a firm erection. almost enough but not really
enough for penetration. Marge was understanding, but it
worried me.
0-0-0
As the next day dawned, I knew was going to be another
good day for golf. I asked Marge what she was going to do,
and she said that she was going to do some shopping in
Bigton where a new mall was opening. Martha had indicated
an interest and so they decided to go together. When she
asked what I was going to do, I said that I was going to do
some more work on my computer. She looked out the win-
dow at the clear sky with its warm sun and then back at me
and shrugged her shoulders.
I found that these shoes were becoming a small obses-
sion with me. Since I had first put them on and worn them,
the comfort and ease of moving, and the, well, I guess it was
primarily the comfort after all. I had no shoes that were that
comfortable. I wore slacks, a sports shirt and another pair of
thin nylon socks that day. Need I say that the socks were "in
preparation" should the chance arise? And here the chance