We'll know that when she finally gets there

She headed out her flat, walking toward the lift under her own power until the moment she stood before it. After she pressed the button, the shoes unexpectedly pulled her to the next door beyond, leading her to the staircase.

"No, that's six stories down!" She grumbled. She winced a little as one of the red Mary Jane's pulled her foot over the first step. As she was working with some pretty steep stairs here, she decided it would be best to cooperate. Over the course of their relationship, Georgina had gotten used to the give-and-take of having to flex the muscles in her legs without exactly determining which direction she would be going.

At first, it was just simple steps, then, as she looked at her watch — the shoes seemed to take notice. She pulled breath as the shoes began taking two steps at a time, making her worry about their intentions.

"Please, please don't let me tumble down one of these flights…" Georgina whispered. As she continued flowing down the stairs two at a time, she noticed that the impact from each of the steps seem to be slightly less jarring with each impact. She never noticed anything like that before, but this was also the first time they were taking her bounding down steps at breakneck speed.

As she learned with her prior dealings, the supporting muscles in her legs had to be firm enough to hold her, but loose enough not to fight the motion of the shoes. She'd never been particularly graceful, but there was something about the priority of not toppling over that **** her to learn a new kind of balance relatively quickly.

By the fourth floor down, she actually felt a bit graceful — certainly more confident that the shoes weren't out to hurt her. There didn't seem to be their attention at any given time, but they were quite fond of making a nuisance of themselves at the most inopportune moments.

When she reached the ground floor landing, there was a finality about the step that made her do a little flourish at the end. The smile on her lips wasn't exactly a conscious decision, but it was on her face all the same, right up until the moment she looked about the exit door to see a fixed camera watching her. She moved her own feet forward now as she passed from the view of the lens, her face noticeably reddening. She had almost said something else to the shoes at the bottom of the staircase, and now she was glad she hadn't.

She was allowed to carry her own feet out into the lobby and out the door of her apartment building until she was in the street, prepared to hail a cab. She'd still have plenty of time by car at this point, but taking the tube would be cutting things a little closer than she'd like.

She approached the street, and just as she was about to raise her hand, her shoes had other plans.

Of course they did. Her first pace forward was awkward, but by the third step she once again resigned herself to the rhythm of the shiny red shoes. The steps were long and confident once she got into stride, and she could feel her gait being modified to the will of the shoes, pulling her legs closer together and making her hips shift with every step as she passed two good-looking young men — junior-executive types with expensive suits that happened to be walking the other direction.

Georgina suddenly realized the shoes were doing this for their benefit, and though they were well-bred enough not to make any comments, she could absolutely tell that their eyes were on her. Once they passed by, she found herself wondering if either of them had turned around to look back at her.

Just as the thought was passing her head, the shoes pulled her into an agile 360-degree spin, a quarter turn with each pace. While she took the least bit of pride executing this unexpected move gracefully, she wondered if her embarrassment was visible when she found herself locking eyes with one of the young men who happened to turn around at the same time.

She was probably blushing again she continued down the street, toward the entry to the tube.

"Why must you always feel the need to show me off?" She muttered to the shoes, taking the opportunity while she was alone in another stairwell. The shoes shuffled her feet down the steps, and she pulled her tube card from her purse, holding it over the turnstile as the shoes seemed to wait for the validation beep.

They seemed to know exactly which track to take her to, and before long she was waiting at the stop, her left shoe tapping itself. She looked around at the other people waiting at the stop, either consumed with their phones were staring blankly at the wall as they waited for the train. There was a clicking sound coming from near the tracks — a signal box or something — and when it started, her tapping left shoe began synchronizing with the clicking's rhythm.

Then, a double tap on every fourth click.

No, please don't... Georgina thought, wondering if the magical shoes could hear her somehow.

The double tap turned into a double tap and a step-tap on every opposite click. Georgina squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what was coming next. She crossed her arms and gritted her teeth as the steps got more complicated. She was sure someone had to be looking at this point, but she didn't want to look around to see How much attention she was getting.

Even through her own motion, she could feel the slight pull of vacuum and displaced air that told her a train was finally coming.

"Aren't you supposed to put a hat out or something?" A voice asked behind her. "Those are some pretty great moves!" The voice was clearly male, slightly middle-aged, and Georgina resisted the urge to turn around and look the man in the eye. She may have been used to the shoes moving her feet on their own, but she wasn't used to facing people when it came to the fact. All she could do is let her feet carry her as the train approached.

She stopped squinting her eyes shut, and when she opened them, she could see a man walking a half-moon around her, watching her go. She was sure this was the body that belonged to the voice she heard. He was smiling, nodding his head to the beat. He was a tradesman, certainly not a bad looking guy, but absolutely much too old for her. She couldn't help but nod and smile back at him as the train pulled to a stop. Georgina's left heel jutted out with a hard slap against the tile, and there were a crescendo of hits as she turned the better part of a 360 and finished her tapping facing the man.

She could feel the heat in her flushed face, and the man before her did a polite clap. Despite her embarrassed state, she couldn't help but laugh a little as her feet carried her toward the open train doors. The man was clearly waiting for another line, and she waved just before she passed through and onto the train. She noticed another couple of sets of eyes on her as her shoes placed her feet next to a standpole, which she grabbed.

She prayed that they'd had their fun. She tried her best not to think about dancing, nor the shoes, even trying to avoid pleading with them in her mind. All of these things seem to function as fuel of one sort or another, and to her relief the train pulled forward without any sign from the shoes that they were going to play the same game on her ride.

In fact, when she came to her stop, she had nearly forgotten to get off the train. She expected the shoes to act for her, but her feet were under her own power as she stepped into the station at her destination, checking her phone again as she ascended the stairs. She was fortunate enough to catch a train at the right moment, and she still had plenty of time to walk the block-and-a-half to her interview.

The moment she had street-level, she could feel them take control again. She simply allowed it to happen this time, flowing with whatever kind of strut the shoes wanted as long as it would get her to the building on time. As she passed a building with nearly mirrored glass on its ground floors, she couldn't help but admire herself midstride. Her outfit may have been a bit gaudy, but she looked great. The shoes, cheeky pain as they were, looked as great as she first imagined when she bought the cursed things. She smoothed her blouse against her before she entered the building.

As she passed through the revolving door, she thought it her last moment to audibly appeal to the footwear.

"I need a good job, okay?" She muttered. "Help me along with that, and I promise we can come to some kind of new arrangement." When she passed from the revolving doors, her stride turned brisk — professional. She was pleasantly surprised by the shift, and she took it as an omen that her willful belongings would cooperate.

In reality, though, she had no idea what she had just promised to her possessed red mary-janes.