You feel like you'll be wearing these shoes more often... (walk)

The heels are making you feel wonderful right now. You wonder over why you have never worn them before. If you had known how they would make you feel about yourself-- sexy, confident-- you would have worn them so many times already. Now that you know, you plan on wearing them a lot more frequently. Practice walking in them seems like a good idea, so walking it is. The bar is only a few blocks away, anyway.

With that, you leave your apartment, locking up behind you before heading for the elevator. When it arrives, you enter and press the button for the ground floor. Before the door can close, a hand reaches in, catching the portal and making it reopen, startling you. A young man around 30 years old enters the elevator, giving you a double take as he does. You recognize him; he lives a few doors down from you. His name escapes you.

He clears his throat slightly, clearly trying not to stare at you as the door closes and the elevator moves. You get a good look at him: fluffy hair the color of Guinness, beautiful smokey grey eyes, strong jawline. He is at least six foot five, and would easily tower over you without your heels on-- hell, he still has a few inches on you with them on. He is dressed to go out, too, but more casually than you are. Maybe he's meeting his girlfriend or something.

"H-have we met?" he suddenly asks, breaking the silence about a floor or two down.

"O-oh... Y-yeah..." you manage to respond, barely finding your voice. "I live a few doors down from you... I'm John."

"Oh... Next door to Xia?"

You nod. He blinks at you, clearly surprised. At this point, it's impossible for him to hide how he is ogling your body. Normally, you would slap him hard across the face. Tonight, however, the attention is exciting you. As the elevator passes the next floor, he pulls out a small notebook from his pocket along with a pen, scrawling something down before ripping out the page, handing it to you.

"If you ever want to hang out or something..." he mutters, not meeting your eyes. You can see the light blush tinting his cheeks, feeling certain that your own is more obvious.

Before you can say anything, the elevator arrives at it's destination and he rushes out. Following slowly, you look down at the paper.

Rafe. Followed by a phone number. Well. He's not meeting a girlfriend, then. Something about that thought makes you smile. However, you have plans for tonight. Slipping his number into your purse, you pick up speed as much as you feel comfortable doing in your heels, leaving the building and turning left.