Confessions of a Kinky Divorcee. Lana Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ her fun. I should have fired her, Kitten – after all, she’s already had two warnings – but when I got her into the back room and her boy wasn’t there to impress, she looked paper-pale, and I felt sorry for her. ‘I love working for you, Deborah,’ she said, her bottom lip all quivery. ‘This is the best job I’ve had.’

      So I gave her a formal warning and sent her back to the shop floor. What a softie I am, Kitten. I wish I could be all strict and pro, like they are at Shoes by J down the street. People come from all over the country to shop at Shoes by J. The managers have more self-control than I have – and there’s no way they wouldn’t fire Cheryl on the spot. Maybe this weakness of mine is why I lost Henry, Kitten. I didn’t assert myself. I just let him treat me like I didn’t exist.

      What’s more, those poor Jimmy Choos that Cheryl had toyed with were so stretched that I had to take ten pounds off the price. My gosh, I love those shoes. They’re black and lilac with steel heels. Steel heels! Delicious. Someone put care into those, Kitten. Mark my words, they were made with love.

      Thank heaven for this afternoon, when an elegant man walks into the store. He’s like a jaguar in his stylishness – all designer suit and cool stance. It’s raining outside, which is why I wasn’t expecting many customers. Besides, Cheryl’s popped out for a coffee break and Pearl, my other member of staff, must be in the stockroom. So I dash over to help him, but when I get close he gives me a dazzling smile and I realise it’s Guy. He kisses me on the cheek, takes my hand and says, ‘Just thought I’d stop by and make sure we’re good for tonight,’ and he holds my gaze with those deep-brown peepers that swallow you up before you’ve even breathed.

      I tell him I haven’t forgotten. He’s picking me up around seven.

      ‘Ready for a little spice?’ he says, raising a single eyebrow. It takes me a moment to get it – we’re eating Thai tonight.

      ‘I’m all about spice,’ I say, gesturing towards the central display, where shoes rest on fur-trimmed shelves, their gold inner soles gleaming in the light.

      I feel a glow of pride as Guy wanders across to the shoes. And guess which ones he reaches for first? The tiger-print stilettos! Kitten, I almost die. ‘I’ve been saving up for those,’ I say. ‘They’re rather too … dear for me.’

      ‘Well, my dear,’ he says, with a wink that makes me smile, ‘let’s see how you look in them.’ And before I’ve had a moment to object, he’s down on one knee, sliding my stockinged foot out of my pink three-inchers and into the tiger-print beauties. His fingers on my ankle make my legs tingle and the tingle shoots up my thighs, making me giddy and light. He gives a long ‘Mmm’ while he strokes the arch of my foot, as he places me into the shoe. And I must say, he handles me beautifully! So firm and in control, with just the right touch. When the delectable shoes are on, he even runs a hand down one of my calves, giving a breathy sigh. As he rises again, his gaze burns on my feet and legs, and oh, my gosh, I’m more turned on than ever!

      He tells me to model them, and off I strut, proudly showing off these high-heeled beauties. There’s something of Janey Prince in his stare, and when I return to him my cheeks are burning at being watched like this. With a sideways grin, he sinks to one knee again and says, ‘Give me your left foot, beautiful.’ I have to check for customers before placing a fully clad foot onto the bridge of his knee and thigh.

      He gives the tiniest groan as I grind my heel into his flesh, and when he runs a finger across the furry material, then down the needle-thin six-inch heel, I notice that I’m not the only one who’s horny: the bulge in his grey suit trousers is big – oh, very big, Kitten! The kind of ‘big’ that sends a girl to the moon!

      Then suddenly, he’s getting up again and asking for the bathroom. I admit, I feel rather abandoned when I show him round the back to the staff toilet. But I know he still has his stiffy, so something tells me to listen at the door. Well! I only have to wait half a minute before I start hearing his moans, rising one after the other, interspersed by a sort of chafing, which I guess is his hand working that sizeable cock of his. ‘Yeah,’ he groans, in that sexy American drawl, ‘Oh, fuck, yeah, press the heel right into it.’ And I get wetter and wetter as I listen to him coming, shouting: ‘All over your feet, all over your fucking feet …’ before crying out, long and low, like some kind of wounded animal.

      I scamper off as soon as the noise dies down, and to my shame there is an unserved customer waiting at the counter on my return. I flush but greet her smilingly, reach down to the shelf below the counter and hand over the box of gold princess sandals that were waiting to be picked up. And as I ring her sale up, I see Mr Coming-All-Over-Your-Feet swaggering towards the shop door, calling, ‘See ya at seven, angel,’ as he gives a wave.

      So, I’ve been soaking wet all afternoon, and now I’m about to get ready for Guy to pick me up. Have I touched myself? No! And it’s your fault, Kitten! What would I rather do? Touch myself or write to you? Is it awfully bizarre to say the latter? It’s as if giving you all my darkest secrets releases me somehow, makes me game to be myself. Anyway, I’ve decided to start carrying you with me in my bag. That way, I can update you whenever I like, and no one gets to see my Playboy bunny fantasies.

      8 p.m.

      Holy mackerel, Kitten, I’m just popping to the ladies to give you the latest! We’re at the Thai Garden, and he’s plied me with some kind of fancy white wine. Well, I let him ply me, let’s face it. I’m a pushover for Chardonnay, so I admit I’m a bit tipsy. Maybe that’s why Guy seems so sizzlingly irresistible.

      But I have to hurry, so here’s a quick list, before I forget the story …

      1 He picks me up in the most exquisite Mercedes – a silver convertible with seats that smell of leather – and, rather than just tooting his horn like Henry would have, he parks the car, comes to the door and greets me in person. ‘You look positively stunning,’ he says, when I answer the door. And adds, ‘A perfect wet dream.’ How lovely it is to be craved by this smartly suited thirty-something with eyes that undress me … starting – or maybe ending – with my gold, evening sandals. Seriously, these have stiletto heels to die for.

      2 As he drives, he lounges there like a jaguar, a single hand leisurely draped on the wheel. I tell him what Janey said about women in the 60s who wouldn’t allow stilettos to disappear from the stores. He laughs, then says, ‘Women who wear heels are hard to say no to.’ Then he glances down at my flirty dress teamed with nylons, saying, ‘Especially when they’re as delectable as you.’

      3 OK, Kitten, I’ve got to run now or he’ll think I have the kind of problems only fibre can fix. The waiters and waitresses, who aren’t all Thai by any stretch, are dressed in white with blue flowers in their hair. Also, there are coloured paper lanterns in red, gold and blue, and there’s a huge tank filled with tropical fish. Guy’s ordered us prawn crackers, spring rolls, little shrimp toasts with chili sauce. All gorgeous! And I do love Chardonnay, especially when it’s cold and served in crystal glasses, while the stud across the table presses his leg against mine.

      4 I have to go now, Kitten. Back in a few …

      10.50 p.m.

      Well, that was quite a date. He was utterly charming, dreadfully seductive, and his clear interest in bedding me made quite a delicious distraction. That man has eyes that bore through your clothes and touch your flesh – not softly, but firmly, as if you’re an avocado and he’s checking to see if you’re ripe. But the most exciting thing was talking to him about shoes! Henry never took an interest in my shoe collection, or much else of mine for that matter. Guy, on the other hand, asked for the details of my every pair, not to mention my job at Pussyfoot Shoes and the women I serve. Now I’m СКАЧАТЬ