Doesn’t hurt to look

You look at your camera bag, “I, well, I’d be happy to have you come over later. I could probably use a purse. But my bag. No. I’d be happy to help you get your own, but I can’t part with this bag. It, well, it knows me, it keeps my camera safe, at the ready…”

She sets her hand on your arm lightly, “Hey, never hurts to ask, right? I’ve got stuff I love too. Tell you what. I’ll bring a couple of things over that I’m looking to sell and you can have a look.”

“Okay. That sounds cool.”

“Nice, see ya later then.”

Your gps takes you to the shoe store and you start looking around. The little foot measuring device tells you that you are a size 9. You find tons of options. There is a bogo sale so you might as well get two pairs. The instant you spot a pair of sandals with a blocky cork heel and dark brown leather ankle strap you just sort of know that is the perfect shoe to go with your skirt, sadly they have a 5” heel so you move on. “No way.” You look at all sorts of sneakers and eventually settle on a pair of white comfy tennis shoes that look a lot like a cheerleader might wear. One pair settled you start looking at boots, but the only ones you really think look good have big heels. Your eyes keep glancing at the cork heels. “I guess I could try them on.” You whisper to yourself.

You slide your feet in and the little strap actually is held in place by a patch of concealed velcro, it is very quick and easy. “Cool.” You get settled, then stand up. To your surprise you just stand there, no wobble, nothing, the platform under the toe makes the heel completely manageable. “Huh.” You step over and look in the mirror. Your legs look amazing. You find a full length mirror and your mouth drops. “What. Why am I hot?” Looking at yourself is getting you a little chub. Holy shit I would totally fuck me. “Hey Alex.” In a slightly girly voice you answer, “Ya.” Normal voice, “Any plans tonight?” Girly, “Lookin at purses with a friend, why?” Normal, “Wanna fuck after?” Girly, “You’re stupid, stop.” You can’t help but smile. “Fuck it.” You grab the box, then as an afterthought you swap the tennis shoes for a similar pair that has a bit of a thicker heel. You buy them both and go ahead and wear the heels out the door. About half way home you realize you left your old shoes in the store.

“Shit.” Should you go back and get them?

Duh, obviously.

Nah, probably to late anyway.