On a 10+, they go along willingly, +1 forward

"You-all should buy those right now and do some hot trotting for each other."

The gals blink at you, briefly wide-eyed and wordless. That gives you a chance to size them up. Short skirts, long legs, high heels, bold make-up, teased hair sticking out here and there. You'd lay odds on a couple tramp stamp tattoos. You've seen the type dropping by the diner before or after an evening of dancing and drinking. Or just drinking. One blonde, one medium brunette, one redhead with a freckles-on-cream complexion.

"I'll take these," the blonde tells the clerk. Her friends chime in. In their chatting, you hear that Louise is the blonde's name, Clara the brunette, and Colleen's the redhead. Kind of old-fashioned names, maybe their moms liked old silent movies or something.

In a few minutes, the clerk has them checked out, and in each case, when he asks, "Shall I box them?" the answer is, "No, I'll wear them." Their old shoes get stacked up in boxes and their bright shiny new ones are on their feet. They prance up and down for each other, their eyes flitting between their own shoes and the other gals, even rubbing up hip to hip as they turn and pass each other. The redhead's ears are definitely pink, and through their light summer tops, you can see the girls' chests rising and falling as they breathe fast and deep. Why, it looks like they're getting hot for each other. On the next pass, you see Louise's fingertips slide across Clara's waist as she passes. The brunette passes it along with a little pat on the redhead's behind, and Colleen tugs at Louise's skirt.

"Ladies," the clerk says, a little flustered. His face is definitely pink, with those gals walking back and forth loving up on their shoes and rubbing up on each other. And those pants are definitely not fitting up front. You suppose that kind of feeling is the thought behind those shoes, more or less, but usually not right there in the store. You wiggle your toes inside the thick orange hospital socks.

You're starting to catch a little buzz off the young ladies prancing around like that touching each other, and you're feeling a definite moistness in the old tunnel of love, a little exposed today with your panties tucked in your husband's pillow next to Nurse June's to keep him company.

Your mouth moistens with anticipation. "I know what you all want, sisters," you say. "You too, hon," you tell the clerk. "Those shoes are making you all so hot, y'all want to do something about it."

The clerk quivers in embarrassment. The gals laugh, but as soon as they see each others' faces, their laughs stop short. Louise, Clara, and Colleen search each others' eyes, then look round to you.