Crazy For Feet Forum

Color doesn't matter to me in a shoe, as long as it's being toyed with. My favorite shoes for shoeplay are ballet flats. For one, they're everywhere, and availability helps when you're not in an environment that demands heels. They look to be comfortable, but in many ways can be quite uncomfortable ...

In re-reading the very-late Christmas story I shared a month or two ago, I felt like I had another unresolved character in the plot: a girl named Holly. Here was this seemingly-naïve college-age girl (with a perfectly seasonal name, mind you) who had to borrow a pair of ballet flats to wear to a fancy party.

Mostly, it was an application of Chekhov's Gun to remove my main character's safety net - her pair of emergency flats stashed away in her desk - but after I wrote the story, I had to give a little thought to what kind of girl would have to borrow, of all things, a pair of black ballet flats. (I mean, every college girl must have at least one pair of ballet flats, right?)

And here's the result of that: a relatively-short tale of a college girl who has a new experience with another woman's shoes. It's quick and dirty, relatively and literally speaking. But at least now we know what happened to Lilly's spare flats, and if they were worth her lending them out in the first place!

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"Happy Holly Day"


“Oh, damn it!â€￾ Holly Kingsley muttered as her shoe sailed through the stairwell, turning end over end in slow motion, before coming to a loud crash at the bottom of the next landing. Standing there with one foot extended and her hand on the railing, Holly felt as if it had happened in slow motion.

This is what she got for leaving the party early, Holly told herself. The organization she had been interning with all semester opted to throw their annual holiday party on a Saturday night. Holly had spent that afternoon helping the employees set up, and she was at the party when she got a text from a guy she had been seeing. Holly had told her co-worker Lilly that her boyfriend was getting off work early, and that was only part-true; the guy was hardly a boyfriend, but he was cute and had potential. And making out at his apartment would have to be more fun than schmoozing with rich people all night.

Holly paused at the top of the stairs, sort of hoping someone would be coming upstairs who could bring her the shoe. But how long could she wait for that? She leaned forward, her outstretched, shoeless right foot landing on the step below. The stairs were hard and cold on her unprotected foot, but she gingerly balanced on her toes as she stepped down with her left shod foot, then took another step down with her shoeless foot, balancing on her toes on the cold step as she stepped down again with her left foot. She stepped down onto the landing left foot first, then her right. She could feel the cold and the wet and the grit of the snow and sand people had been tracking in, and it made her frown.

Sitting one step out of reach was her shoe. Or, at least, it was her shoe for the night. Holly was a college girl, and she had embraced the stereotypical New England college-girl wardrobe: leggings by default, jeans if necessary, flip-flops if it was warm enough, and Uggs if it wasn’t. When she had to look “nice,â€￾ and the internship often required that, she exchanged the flip-flops for a pair of ballet flats. But her sole pair of ballet flats was well-loved, the heels crushed down, the toes scuffed and dull, the insoles worn and blackened. Holly knew she could never wear the worn-out flats to a fancy party. Her only other dressy option, a pair of strappy sandals, was hardly appropriate for a winter party, never mind that Holly had not worn heels since the spring.

So before the party, Holly had asked her co-worker Lilly if she had a spare pair of shoes to lend her. Lilly lent her a pair of black flats she kept in a desk drawer for shoe emergencies. Holly reached down and picked up the overturned black flat, dusting some sand off the shiny leather and slipping it back on her foot. She still felt some of the sand from the floor on her foot, scraping at the insole of Lilly’s shoe, but she would have to take care of that later. Now wearing both of her borrowed shoes, Holly continued down the stairs, the outside door only a flight and a half away.

With each step, Holly felt her heels sliding in and out of Lilly’s shiny flats. She and Lilly were both a size eight, and the flats had fit perfectly when Holly tried them that afternoon. But while the girls were in Lilly’s office, Lilly took her own flats off, and Holly saw that her sophisticated supervisor was wearing nylons under her leggings. Holly had last worn hosiery when she was a little girl, and in a college girl’s world, there was little room for a luxury like nylons. But this was a somewhat-fancy business party, not a summer wedding or social gathering. Holly had been thinking of Lilly’s nylons since she left the office to go change, and after getting dressed, she looked in the mirror and felt incomplete. Holly’s roommate was out of town, so she looked in her dresser, found a pair of suntan pantyhose, and slipped into them. The nylons darkened Holly’s pale legs and gave them a nice shimmer, and Holly felt somehow complete.

But on the walk back to the party, Holly discovered that Lilly’s perfectly-fitting Nine West flats no longer fit so perfectly. With every step, the shoes slid up and down Holly’s heels, threatening to pop off. She almost lost one shoe a couple times on that walk alone. At the party, Holly tried to concentrate, keeping her feet planted in Lilly’s shoes. She had sat down a couple times, though, and the shoes had popped from her heels as she stretched her legs under a chair. She felt a tiny bit of comfort knowing that as she watched Lilly, Lilly’s shoes had the same tendencies. But Lilly had worn shoes and stockings before. For Holly, it was a totally new experience.

And that new experience made Holly’s trip down the stairs that more tenuous, as she tried just to keep the flats on her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom of the stairs. There was a bench there, and Holly sat down, crossing her right leg over her left. She took off Lilly’s right flat and fished in her purse for a tissue, wiping the dirt and salt off of the shoe so it looked clean again. She shook the shoe over the floor and dusted the insole off in case any sand had gotten inside. The last thing she could do was return Lilly’s shoes to her in less-than-perfect condition. She slipped the flat back on her foot and uncrossed her legs, her feet flat on the floor.

Holly checked her phone for a text from the boy. As she did, she slid her feet back and felt the flats pop from her heels again. She thought of Lilly, traipsing around the party upstairs in her sheer black nylons and tall heels, and wondered how she did it. Holly shook her feet to loosen the flats some more, and curled her toes inside as she thought. The boy was a long walk from the party, more blocks than Holly cared to count. In Lilly’s flats, it would be a treacherous adventure.

Holly considered ditching the nylons. She knew the flats would stay on her bare feet. It wasn’t as if the hose were keeping her legs that much warmer, after all. And the boy wouldn’t likely even notice. Holly wondered if anyone could tell. She stretched her legs and feet out in front of her, pointing her toes. Maybe the nylons were noticeable, she thought. Her legs looked soft and sunkissed and slender. She had expected them to be uncomfortable, but instead they felt sensual, especially as her feet brushed against each other.

Holly had an idea, reaching back into her purse. She reached her feet under the bench for the flats, hooking them with her toes and sliding them back into view. She opened her package of tissues, crumpling a handful of them and stuffing them into the toes of Lilly’s flats. She slipped her feet back into the shoes. It was better than nothing, she figured. Holly gathered her purse and phone, pulled her coat and scarf tight, and took the five steps to the outside door, pushing through the door and into the cold.

Unfortunately, it took all of those five steps for Holly to realize her attempt at stuffing her borrowed shoes was futile. The tissues she had crumpled into the shoes had merely been crushed into the pointy toes of her flats, so instead of helping to pad out the loose shoes, they were just distracting Holly’s toes instead. And so with each step, Holly felt her stockinged heels sliding around in her shoes, sometimes popping loose for the winter air to nip at them before her next step. She clenched her toes trying to keep the shoes on, but even that was a hopeless case. Holly remembered being a little girl, wearing her mother’s way-too-big high heels around the kitchen. Lilly’s flats were hardly that loose, but at that moment, they might as well have been.

Holly glanced back at the office, the silhouettes of partiers moving about in the lit windows a few stories up. Meanwhile, she held her coat tight against her. The cool winter air blew through her thin nylons and swirled under her short party dress, and Holly wished she had stayed at the party. Holly quickened her steps, her borrowed flats clicking against the pavement as she crossed a side street. She had no sooner stepped back onto the sidewalk when she felt her right flat come loose as she stepped forward, inadvertently kicking the shoe off. Holly landed her footstep anyway, the gritty concrete feeling icy cold on her sole. “Damn!â€￾ Holly said, limping a few steps ahead with light steps on her stockinged foot until she reached the empty shoe. She slipped her shoe on quickly, and kept walking.

Three side streets later, Holly had chased her errant shoes three more times. She had kicked each of her shoes off down the sidewalks, and her left shoe slipped off while she crossed one side street, forcing her to double back for her missing shoe. Holly’s feet were cold and uncomfortable, her soles damp from her accidental stocking-footing down the concrete. As she crossed her fourth side street, Holly’s right shoe came off again, and she stepped down into a snowbank. Holly whimpered as she slipped the loose flat back on, her toes sliding around on the loose tissue inside the shoe.

Frustrated and miserable, Holly stopped and checked her phone. Where was she meeting the boy, anyway? He wasn’t really out of work early, like she had told Lilly; he was at one holiday party, and wanted to meet Holly at another. The first party was at a hotel, the second was at an apartment, and Holly had only a vague idea where to find either. The boy had left her a text message, though: “Just left party #1, headed to #2.â€￾ She texted him back: “Where is #2?â€￾

Holly made one more block without either of her shoes falling off. She stopped and checked her phone again. The boy had left another message: “Catch a train to Davison Station.â€￾ Holly was vaguely familiar with the instructions; Davison Station was in the middle of a neighborhood full of college-student-friendly bars and affordable apartments. Where could she catch the train though? Holly saw a sign for a subway stop about two blocks down. She started walking in that direction, her shoes still slipping like before.

The next two blocks passed without Holly losing a shoe. Maybe this evening would be less miserable than she had feared, she told herself. As she stepped into the stairwell to the station, though, her right shoe glided effortlessly from her stockinged foot, sailing to the landing eight steps below. “Why?â€￾ Holly whined as she made her way down the steps, the concrete steps cold on her sole. Holly had just reached the landing when she heard the squeal of train brakes entering the station. Holly reached down, grabbed her empty shoe and shuffled in one shoe to the next set of stairs. As she stepped forward, though, her left shoe came off her heel and cartwheeled to the bottom of the stairs, landing noisily. Holly cried out in frustration, grudgingly walking down the concrete and rubber steps in her stocking feet. The train was waiting at the platform and people were filing off of it, so she collected her left shoe, fumbled for her train card in her purse, swiped the card, and burst through the gate, running into the train in her nylons before the doors slid shut.

Holly sank into an open seat and dropped her empty shoes in the seat next to hers. The gritty floor of the train car reminded Holly that she was shoeless, and she suddenly felt self-conscious, tucking her feet under the seat, but when she glanced around, she realized she was alone on the train car. Feeling slightly more relaxed but still frustrated, Holly stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes. The floor of the train car was cool underfoot, and she felt the grit from others’ sandy shoes inside, but she imagined her feet were a mess already anyway. She crossed her right leg over her left. If she were going to look trashy, at least she could try to be classy about it.

“I hate these shoes,â€￾ Holly said out loud as she picked up Lilly’s flats from the seat next to her. They were perfectly nice shoes, far nicer than her own black flats. But they had been trouble for Holly since she left the party. As she dusted the sand and salt from them, she thought of Lilly traipsing about the party in her sky-high heels. Holly imagined having to dash down the sidewalks in those. She rarely wore heels anymore, so it would have been a nightmare. So it could have been worse, she decided as she shook loose sand out of each flat onto the train floor. The train slowed for a station, the doors opened, but no one got on.

Holly waited another two empty stops before putting Lilly’s shoes back on her feet. Again, she thought about sneaking into a bathroom and stripping off her borrowed pantyhose and barefooting it in the shoes. But as she sat with her feet on the floor, she felt the shoes brush the sides of her feet, and she liked the sensation of wearing nylons in her borrowed shoes. She thought of Lilly that afternoon, her own stockinged feet popping out of her flats. She wondered how Lilly stayed planted in her heels all night. And she decided to keep the nylons on. If Lilly could do it, so could she.

At last, the train pulled into Davison Station. Holly got off the train and, with careful steps, made it to the ground level without once losing a shoe. There was a clean bench right next to the station exit, though, so she sat down to check her phone, slipping her flats off and stretching her toes as she did. At least the flats were better than her usual strappy sandals in one sense, she thought. It took a moment for her phone to pick up the messages she had been sent while on the train, but it seemed the boy had already left the second party, and was bound for a bar a few blocks away. Holly slipped Lilly’s flats back on and slipped her phone into her purse. She felt a little like she was in a game of hide-and-seek.

It only took a few feet of sidewalk, though, for Holly to find that Lilly’s flats were back to their old tricks. With each step, she felt the heels of the shoes pop loose, and the cool air nipped at her stockinged heels. On one step down, her left heel popped free and came down on the back of the flat, crushing the leather under her foot and turning Lilly’s flat into a backless slide. Holly made it a few steps like that before stopping and reaching behind her to fix the back of the shoe. She breathed a sigh of relief with both her shoes on her feet correctly, but her sigh turned to a grumble as, on her next step, the flats went flying from her feet again, sailing into a snowbank a few steps ahead. The cold concrete was a shock on Lilly’s soles as she stormed over to the snowbank, removed the flats from the snow and slipped them on.

After another block and two more shoe losses, Holly finally reached the bar where her new boy had promised he’d be. She checked her phone, but he had not texted her since she left the train station. Holly flashed her ID to the bouncer and walked into the dark pub. She looked around the tables for a group of people, but he was not among any of the groups. She walked back along another set of booths, and then glanced over the bar. She spotted him there, wearing the same green plaid scarf he wore when they first met. He still had his coat on, a beer in one hand, and he was locked in a kiss with another girl.

Holly took a deep breath and composed herself. No good would come of confronting him with the other girl. She watched and waited as the two separated, then the girl left her drink at the bar, holding up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The boy gestured with one finger and holding his half-full beer, so the girl left him at the bar. Since when did he smoke? Holly wondered. But that was immaterial. With his new flame departed, Holly worked her way closer to the bar.

The new boy noticed her approaching faster than she realized. “Oh, Holly,â€￾ he said. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.â€￾

“I told you I was coming,â€￾ Holly said. “Who was she?â€￾

“She?â€￾ the boy asked.

Was he really going to play that game? “The girl you were just kissing before she went outside for a smoke.â€￾

“Oh, her,â€￾ the boy said. “We just met.â€￾

“It didn’t look like it,â€￾ Holly said.

“Well, at the last party,â€￾ the boy said. “She just broke up with her boyfriend.â€￾

“But you knew you were meeting me,â€￾ Holly said. She felt betrayed. She knew what was coming.

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t sure if you’d get out of the party, and even if you did, it’s a long way over here.â€￾

Holly reached down and picked off one of her flats, stomping her stockinged foot on the bar floor. “I came all the way over with these awful shoes falling off every step!â€￾ she said, holding Lilly’s flat up as evidence. “Of course I was going to come and see you! We’re dating.â€￾

“Well, just in case, I figured I’d chat up Kayla and see where things went,â€￾ the boy said, smiling.

“But we’re dating,â€￾ Holly said, feeling her emotions cracking at her voice. “We, we…â€￾ She lowered her voice to a bar whisper. “We had sex last weekend.â€￾

“Well, that’s what you do when you’re dating,â€￾ the boy said. “But I wasn’t sure if you would make it, so—“

“So I was your backup,â€￾ Holly cut the boy off. “Well, thanks. Have a nice night, jerk.â€￾ Holly turned and was about to triumphantly storm out, but as she took her first step, her remaining flat flew off, skidding across the bar floor. Holly looked back one last time and saw the boy laughing a bit as she stormed off, picked up her errant shoe and left the bar in a huff in her stockinged feet. She glared at the girl outside the bar.

Holly was crying, and it took her a few steps down the sidewalk to recognize the cold sidewalk underfoot and realize that she was in her nylon feet, carrying Lilly’s shoes. She stopped to put the shoes back on and got a bearing on her surroundings. She was in a neighborhood she rarely ever ventured into. She had ditched a Christmas party and traveled half across the city, chasing a pair of ill-fitting shoes that wouldn’t stay on her feet, only to get humiliated by a boy who wasn’t worth the trip.

Holly wiped tears from her eyes as a gust of wind whipped around her legs and gave her a chill. She was sad and embarrassed and cold and uncomfortable, and lonely. And yet she didn’t want to go back to the party, or back to her apartment, or anywhere really. Holly sniffled and wiped a tear off her cheek. She just wanted to feel less alone. But as another gust of wind blew under her dress, she decided she just wanted to feel warm. She was surrounded by bars and closed restaurants and cafes, but there was a single coffee shop open. She walked up the steps, opened the door and stepped inside.

Holly took a moment to dry her eyes again. She ordered a hot chocolate - with a squirt of hazelnut syrup, topped with whipped cream - and looked for a seat. The shop was almost empty, but the big empty chair by the fireplace looked appealing. Holly walked toward the fireplace. It was a simple gas fireplace, but the heat was plenty real, as she felt the warmth against her legs. Holly slipped her right shoe off and pawed at the carpet with her toes. The carpet was soft and warm, so she planted her right foot in the fibers of the carpet, curling her toes into the warm rug. The soft, dry carpet was a more pleasant feeling than the concrete and pavement and brick walkways and sidewalks and the messy bar floor that she had been walking on earlier.

After a moment, Holly slipped her left shoe off and did the same, the warm carpet soothing on her cold and damp soles. Holly wondered if anyone was critical of the trashy shoeless girl in front of the fire, but as she wiggled her toes against the carpet, she decided that anyone who had a problem with it could keep it to themselves.

“Cold feet?â€￾ a stranger asked from behind Holly.

Holly turned to see a tall, bespectacled guy standing behind her. He was wearing a buttoned shirt under a casual brown blazer, with jeans and brown shoes and a matching messenger bag worn across his body. He looked like an academic. Normally, Holly would have felt in her element, confident and ready with a response. But tonight, she was tired and dejected and cold and shoeless and she felt completely disarmed. “Well, yeah,â€￾ she managed, sipping her hot chocolate.

“It’s kinda chilly out,â€￾ the guy said, stepping forward and standing next to her by the fire. “You look like you just came from a Christmas party or a date or something.â€￾

“Sort of both,â€￾ Holly said. “I intern for this non-profit downtown and we had our big holiday party tonight, and then this guy I’ve been seeing wanted to see me so I left the party early to go find him. So I got all the way out here, and he’s at a bar with some girl he just met because now I’m his backup.â€￾ She took a breath. “And I borrowed these flats from someone at the non-profit for the party, but they won’t stay on my feet and they kept falling off all the walk over here and my feet are cold and wet and this is the best I’ve felt all night.â€￾

To Holly’s surprise, her new friend hadn’t left by the end of her rant. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m just coming from a meeting for a paper that’s due Monday morning,â€￾ he said. “So I haven’t exactly been lighting up the town.â€￾

“I think I’d rather have been working on your paper,â€￾ Holly said, managing a laugh.

“I’m Matt Cartwright, by the way,â€￾ the guy said, smiling.

“Holly Kingsley,â€￾ Holly said. “I’m usually not like this.â€￾

“Like what?â€￾ Matt asked.

“Shoeless in a coffee shop looking like a mess,â€￾ Holly said.

“You look fantastic,â€￾ Matt said. “I mean, even with your shoes off.â€￾

Holly sat on the hearth by the fireplace. “Aww, thanks,â€￾ she said, crossing her right leg over her left. She was reminded of how elegant and sensual Lilly’s stockinged feet looked when she took off her shoes, and Holly’s feet looked the same, the nylons hiding her unpolished toenails. She rotated her ankle and looked at her sole, and it was a different story. The ball and heel of her foot were dark from her barefooting moments, and there were tiny pulls in her stockinged sole. A couple runs had started at her toes and another ran up her heel. She rolled her left foot over and saw her sole was equally darkened, a tiny hole worn in the back of her heel. Matt had sat down next to her on the hearth, and he was leaning closer. “Don’t look,â€￾ Holly said.

“What’s wrong?â€￾ Matt asked.

“My soles are dirty,â€￾ Holly said, rotating her dangling right foot so Matt could see. “And I have runs.â€￾

Matt laughed. “It happens,â€￾ he said. “Imagine spending ten hours in the library on a Saturday with three girls who thought it was a good idea to wear heels to a work meeting.â€￾

Holly reached down and rubbed her right foot. “But that’s a library,â€￾ she said. “Not the winter streets.â€￾

“What do you think three girls’ soles look like after seven hours of running around a campus library barefoot?â€￾ Matt asked.

Holly glanced down at her foot as she curled her toes tightly. Matt nodded, and the two laughed. “At least I wore pantyhose, then,â€￾ Holly said.

“On the other hand,â€￾ Matt said, picking up one of Holly’s shoes, “the other girls were wearing heels to start…â€￾

“I’m a Florida girl,â€￾ Holly said. “I should be wearing flip-flops right now.â€￾

Matt reached down, took Holly’s dangling right foot and propped it on his knee, examining her ruined sole before giving her arch a gentle knead with his thumbs. “For what it’s worth,â€￾ he said, “I’m glad you’re not.â€￾

“Me, too,â€￾ Holly said, pulling her left foot up and under her on the ottoman. She looked at Lilly’s empty black flats on the floor, and then at her stockinged foot in Matt’s lap, sighing as he pressed his thumbs deep into her sole. “Me, too.â€￾

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Hope you enjoyed - as always, comments and input are welcome!

Fetishes, by their nature, are complicated little things. Making matters worse, they usually get painted with a wide brush, so there's this mental idea of what a particular fetish is, and the reality of how it manifests itself. I'm attracted to womens' feet. I have a foot fetish (well, technically, ...

when I hear a woman say this: "Oh man, my foot is killing me..." Thats my favorite sound...:) Oh, yes. So much this. I love the sound of heels on a hard floor, or the hollow clop of an empty shoe clattering to the ground, or the sound of nylon on about anything. But the sweet sound of a w...

My mother and sister aren't really shoeplayers, but I would often draw from my mom's work outfits to write stories. I have one second cousin that I'm "close" to, and I admit I've caught her playing with her shoes. She can be quite fidgety, but rarely have I caught her in stocking season (a...

A girl I know threw a photo on Facebook this morning from under her desk, her legs stretched out, blue-bird-socked feet warming by a space heater because "it's cold in the office." One of her friends returned a photo of her own bird-socked feet atop her sneakers. (The girl I know loves her...

Thanks! I actually started this one with a clear idea of where it ended - the party host nonchalantly shoeless in her little black dress at the end of the gathering. Then it was off to the races as far as getting there. The rest of the characters, hence why many didn't even get names, were largely d...

I started working on this story back in December. My inspiration came from a friend of my fiancée's, at her Christmas party years ago. I changed a lot - the setting, the people, the motivations that keep the story going. And the story got a lot longer than I had anticipated for a "short story." But I think you'll enjoy it all the same.

Even though it's now the end of January.

---

Christmas music blared through the speakers in the ceiling as Lilly Preston balanced atop a stool trying to hang garland from a light fixture. The blast of horns and strings startled Lilly, but she kept her composure as the volume crept to a reasonable level.

“How’s that?â€￾ a voice called from another room.

“That’s much better now,â€￾ Lilly said.

Lilly and her staff were decorating the office for that evening’s holiday party, and Lilly was trying to tie off a string of garland to one of the wall-mounted light fixtures. She had been able to reach most of the fixtures, but this last one was just out of her reach, even as she stood on a stool for a couple extra feet.

Lilly stood on her tiptoes, finally reaching the fixture and wrapping the garland around the brass. She felt the heels of her ballet flats pop loose, the soles of the shoes slapping the stool. She usually wore the shiny red Steve Madden flats barefoot in the summer, but winter called for hosiery, and Lilly’s silky stockinged heels had been distractingly popping out of her beloved red shoes all day. Lilly dropped carefully from her tiptoes, feeling her heels slide back into her shoes, and stepped down from the stool.

“The bartender called too,â€￾ one of Lilly’s coworkers said. “They’ll be here right at six o’clock to get set up.â€￾

“Perfect,â€￾ Lilly said. She looked around the room for her phone, finally spotting it on the edge of a table. Lilly picked up her phone to check her text messages and emails, walking around and glancing at the decorations her coworkers had been setting up as she sent back quick replies. Lilly worked for a nonprofit group, and while they had a small team, they took pride in throwing a seemingly-extravagant holiday party for their associates and clients. Lilly loved playing hostess, so it worked out well for her, too.

“Lilly, are you wearing that tonight?â€￾ another co-worker asked as she wrapped faux-hemlock garland around a railing.

Lilly was seasonably casual and classy as always. She was wearing a clingy red sweater that fell to mid-thigh, almost long enough to be a sweaterdress, over black leggings. The leggings were layered over her tan nylons, and the sweater matched her patent red Steve Madden flats perfectly. She laughed. “No, I have to go home and change still,â€￾ she said. “This is just my casual setting-up-for-the-party outfit. I have a black dress just waiting for tonight.â€￾

“Me too,â€￾ her co-worker said. “I was just afraid to be too formal.â€￾

“It’s a holiday party,â€￾ Lilly said. “Holiday parties were basically made so we could go buy new cute dresses.â€￾

Lilly worked her way around the office, her cell phone in one hand because her leggings lacked pockets, checking all the little detail things, making sure the food tables were ready for the caterers, double-checking the bar, putting away things in the coat room that would just be in the way, straightening the scatter rugs and runners in the corridors. She had to run home and change soon. She was adjusting one rug on the floor when she heard someone call “Lilly?â€￾

Lilly looked up and saw her co-worker Holly over her shoulder. “What’s up, Holly?â€￾ Lilly asked.

“I had a huge favor to ask,â€￾ Holly said. “Do you have a pair of flats I can borrow for tonight?â€￾

“I think so,â€￾ Lilly said. “I should have some black flats in my desk.â€￾

“That would be great,â€￾ Holly said. “My black flats are kind of beat up from school and I don’t want to look out of place.â€￾

Holly was an intern from one of the local colleges, a pretty blonde girl that Lilly could see as herself a few years ago. “Let’s go check my office,â€￾ Lilly said, the two girls heading for Lilly’s office at the end of the hall.

Lilly walked around her desk, plopped into her desk chair and pulled out her bottom drawer. Lilly always kept a couple spare pairs of shoes in her desk. A girl never knew when she would need a spare pair of shoes, after all. In the drawer were a few options: a pair of basic black three-inch pumps for unexpected lunch excursions with clients, her four-inch platform heels for salsa dancing lessons, a pair of flip-flops for summer lunches in the park, and a pair of simple black Nine West flats. She plucked the black flats from the drawer. “You’re a size eight, right?â€￾ Lilly asked Holly.

“Yeah,â€￾ Holly said.

“Then these should work,â€￾ Lilly said, handing the black flats to Holly across the desk. “They’re just my emergency flats, so I don’t need them back until Monday.â€￾

“They’re nicer than my everyday flats,â€￾ Holly said, wiggling one foot from her Ugg boot. She slipped her bare foot into one of Lilly’s flats, rocking her ankle back and forth to critique the borrowed shoe before putting her tan boot back on. “Thank you! This is such a help.â€￾

“No worries,â€￾ Lilly said, closing the drawer. In the privacy of her office, she slipped her flats off, wiggling her toes. “I can’t say I’ve never had to borrow shoes for a party.â€￾

“I’m just afraid my flats aren’t nice enough to wear tonight,â€￾ Holly said. “Are you wearing those tonight?â€￾

Lilly stretched one of her long legs, pointing and rotating her stockinged foot. “No,â€￾ she said. “I love these flats but you can’t wear flats with my dress.â€￾

“Are you wearing nylons?â€￾ Holly asked.

“Tonight, of course,â€￾ Lilly said.

“No, I mean right now,â€￾ Holly said

Lilly looked at her outstretched foot and felt embarrassed. She went shoeless in her own office often, after longer-than-expected meetings or when breaking in a new pair of heels. But a proper lady never got caught shoeless at work, and so Lilly never had taken her shoes off past her own office door. In the comfort of her own office, she had momentarily forgotten that she had company. Lilly folded her leg back toward her chair, fumbling on the floor for her shiny flats. “My legs are so pale right now,â€￾ she said. “And I haven’t had time to go tanning. And it was cold this morning.â€￾

“You just look so classy,â€￾ Holly said. “I never wear nylons with my flats.â€￾

“Honestly, I can’t keep these on with my nylons,â€￾ Lilly said, finally stuffing her feet into her shiny red shoes. “They keep popping off my heel, but I love them so much.â€￾ She stretched her legs out, the shoes popping freely from her feet as she flexed her toes. “See?â€￾

“Does that happen with these?â€￾ Holly asked, holding up Lilly’s emergency flats.

“Not usually,â€￾ Lilly said. “These are a little big on me anyway, but they’re red and I had to have them.â€￾

“I do that too,â€￾ Holly said. “So what time should we be back here, about six?â€￾

“That works,â€￾ Lilly said. “The guests start arriving at seven.â€￾

“Okay, see you then,â€￾ Holly said. “Thanks again!â€￾

As Holly left the office, Lilly turned in her chair to face her desk again, feeling her shoes slide off her feet as she swung her feet around. “Silly shoes,â€￾ she sighed as she stretched her legs back under the chair, hooking her toes around the base of the chair.

Lilly left the office before her co-workers, giving the suite one last check to make sure everything was set to go for the evening. Jumping on a chair to fix something just out of reach was easy in leggings and flats, but not so in a party dress and heels. It was still a little unseasonably warm out, so Lilly opted to walk the fifteen minutes to her apartment and take the train back to the office. Her shoes slipped off her heels with each step, but Lilly found herself growing fonder of the feeling as she got closer to home. The only time she was particularly careful to keep her shoes from slipping was as she crossed streets; she did not want to lose one of her shiny red flats in the middle of the road.

Lilly got home and slipped her flats off at the door, tiptoeing around the apartment as she topped off her cat’s food and water for the night and gathered her outfit together. Even though Lilly worked at a nonprofit, they would be entertaining donors and benefactors who spent more on car payments in a month than Lilly spent on rent. “Look the part,â€￾ she had stressed all week. “They don’t need to think you spent a thousand dollars on your dress. They just need to not think that you didn’t.â€￾ Lilly had a closet full of cocktail-party-ready dresses in black and red, and she had set aside one of her favorites for this evening. It was a form-fitting black lace dress. The sleeves, shoulders and back were sheer black lace, with a black lining making the lace opaque from her chest to the just-above-the-knee hemline, where a few ruffles of lace gave the slinky dress a playful twist. It was all at once elegant and sexy, ideal for schmoozing people donating money to the organization, but also capable of leaving a more-than-pleasant impression on the right guests.

Lilly took a quick shower, dried her hair, pulled on some sheer black nylons and slipped into her black dress. In front of the mirror, Lilly painstakingly adjusted the dress, making sure every seam was just right, that her hem was not too high on her thighs, that her sleeves were not bunched up anywhere. Still balancing on her tiptoes, she began accessorizing, choosing a silver bracelet ornamented with red gemstones for her right wrist, sliding a handful of Alex + Ani bracelets over her left hand and onto her left wrist, clasping a silver necklace and a string of faux pearls around her neck. Lilly fluffed her hair, brushing her long ash-blonde hair back neatly and holding it in place with a single bobby pin.

Finally, Lilly took her shoes out of the closet, a pair of four-inch black pointed-toe Nine West pumps. Lilly loved wearing heels, though it was rarely practical for her to wear four-inch pumps for work. Tonight, she could certainly get away with it. She slipped each shoe on, then took a few careful steps toward the mirror as she got used to the sky-high shoes. In front of the mirror, Lilly critiqued her appearance one more time. She loved the dress, loved the shoes, loved that she felt confident and sexy all at the same time.

It was already five-thirty, so Lilly pulled her last little details together, switching her essentials from her bulky purse to a smaller black purse and fetching her long red wool coat from the closet. Making sure she had money for the train and maybe a cab later, she hurried down the stairs – as much as she could in four-inch heels – and stepped outside into the cool December air. The long coat sheltered her legs from the chill somewhat, but she could feel winter on her stockinged calves as she walked down to the nearest train stop.

The train screeched into the stop just as Lilly stepped onto the platform. Even with her wool coat on, Lilly was feeling the chill from her short walk, so the timing could not have been more perfect. Lilly stepped into the train car and sat down, immediately fishing her phone from her purse and answering a few texts along the way. As Lilly sat in the quiet train car only half-watching the lights of the city flash past, she felt something irritating scratching at her little toe in her right pump. Lilly crossed her right leg over her left, reached down and slipped her shoe off, wiggling her toes. She reached inside the shoe and felt around. The only thing she could feel was that the insole was starting to peel up in the toe of the shoe. Lilly frowned. The tiniest imperfection in a shoe could sometimes feel like the biggest annoyance, but it was the risk of buying shoes on clearance, she justified as she slipped the shoe back on. She wiggled her toes in the pump and her little toe rubbed where the insole was peeling. She would just have to ignore it, she thought.

The train screeched through a few more stops, with Lilly anxiously awaiting her stop. She sat there with her right leg crossed over her left, her shoe loosened a bit so she could rub her arch with her left hand. At last, the train screeched to a stop at Lilly’s station. Lilly pulled the heel of her right shoe back on with her retreating hand as she gracefully stood up and stepped down from the train onto the platform. The office was only a few steps away, and the clock was just a few minutes from six o’clock.

Lilly returned upstairs to the office to find the caterers and the bartender waiting. “I’m sorry, I had to go home and change,â€￾ Lilly said as she unlocked the door. “I thought there was going to be someone here to let you in.â€￾

“That’s okay, we’re running a bit early,â€￾ the bartender said. “You’re Miss Preston, right?â€￾

“Yes,â€￾ Lilly said, shaking the bartender’s hand as she held the door open. “Lilly Preston. With two ‘L’s, like the designer.â€￾ It was the best comparison Lilly had in mind, though she wondered if the bartender had ever even heard of Lilly Pulitzer. But she didn’t care as long as he spelled her first name correctly.

Lilly got the caterers and bartender into position, and they got to work as she ran around the office suite to make sure everything else was in order. Her co-workers were filtering back in as the clock ticked down. Lilly was relieved to see that even the young men in the group had made an effort to put on suits, even if their ties weren’t quite perfect. So far, so good.

The Christmas music started playing just before seven o’clock, as the first batch of hors d’oeuvres came out from behind the caterers’ table and the first couple guests (and the last couple employees) started to come in. Lilly was by the door, statuesque in her slimming black dress and tall heels, greeting folks as they came in. Lilly had been fighting butterflies in her stomach since she left her apartment, but by the time the party started, she felt confident about things. Everyone was where they were supposed to be. Everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing. Everyone looked how they were supposed to look. Things were going smoothly, and Lilly felt good about this party in a way she had never felt about an office holiday party before.

An hour into the party, though, there was one thing that was not going as smoothly as hoped. Lilly had been standing still for a while, and her toes were beginning to ache. Her little toe had found the imperfection in her pump’s insole and was quite annoyed at the peeling material inside. Lilly leaned against the wall and raised her right foot, squeezing the ball of her foot with her hand as she stretched her toes. She stepped down on her right foot again, feeling a bit relieved but also watching to be sure no one noticed. Lilly had danced in far more painful shoes before. She would be fine, she told herself as she took a few careful steps, making sure her feet had not completely fallen asleep from her hour at the door.

Lilly went around checking on her guests, making sure everyone was entertained, fed and watered. She hugged and shook hands and posed for selfies, whatever seemed like it was called for at the moment. After a quick tour around the office, Lilly was feeling a bit hungry and thirsty herself, so she headed toward the bar and asked for a glass of wine. She leaned on the bar to take some weight off her right foot. Through her natural smile and bubbly confidence, her shoe continued to annoy her. Not only was the insole still scratching at her toe, but her walking around had nudged Lilly’s toes deeper into the shoes, and both of her feet were genuinely uncomfortable. Lilly lifted her right foot and rotated her ankle, wiggling her toes to keep them awake. She shifted to her right foot and rotated her left ankle a bit when someone joined her at the bar. “Captain and Coke?â€￾ he asked the bartender as Lilly took her glass of wine.

Lilly took a half-step back from the bar, glass of pinot grigio in hand, when her partner at the bar turned to her and said, “Great party so far, right?â€￾ He was tall, taller than Lilly in her four-inch heels, probably about her age if not a couple years older, clean-shaven, and handsome.

“Oh, thank you,â€￾ Lilly said reflexively. She appreciated the compliment, though she did not recognize the man offering it – and she surely would have. “Have we met before?â€￾

“Are you Lilly Preston?â€￾ the man asked. “I’m Ryan Baker.â€￾

Lilly recognized Ryan Baker. He was one of her regular contacts for a sponsor’s donations to the organization. They talked by e-mail daily since Ryan joined her sponsor, but she and Ryan had never actually met. “Yes, I’m Lilly,â€￾ Lilly replied, shaking Ryan’s hand. “It’s great to finally meet you!â€￾

“Likewise,â€￾ Ryan said. “This is a really nice party.â€￾

“Thank you,â€￾ Lilly said, shifting her weight from her sore right foot to her less-sore left foot. “I’m really glad you could make it. We always have a great time.â€￾

“Seems like it,â€￾ Ryan said. “Thank you for inviting me.â€￾

“My pleasure,â€￾ Lilly said. She wondered for a moment if Ryan’s girlfriend was nearby. She had made sure to include her as a plus-one. “Was your girlfriend able to come tonight?â€￾ she asked.

“Ah, no,â€￾ Ryan said, sort of stumbling over the words. “Charlotte had another party tonight. Honestly we’re kind of, sort of, taking a break. But I appreciate you inviting her.â€￾

“Oh, I’m sorry,â€￾ Lilly said. “This is such an awful time of year for breakups.â€￾

“It is, but it was a long time coming,â€￾ Ryan said. “What about Miles? Did he come tonight?â€￾

“Miles?â€￾ Lilly asked. Then it dawned on her; it was how she signed all her holiday cards. She could not help but laugh. “Oh, my. Miles is my kitty. I’d show you a picture but I didn’t have anywhere to hide my phone.â€￾

“So are you seeing anyone?â€￾ Ryan asked timidly.

“Not recently,â€￾ Lilly said. The truth was, she had not “seen anyoneâ€￾ in a few years. Flirted at the bar, made out, maybe went home with a guy, sure, but she had to think four or five years back before she could name a boyfriend. Men always seemed intimidated by the prospect of a smart, successful woman with open feminist leanings. But she was hardly about to tell Ryan any of that.

“Hey, come over here for a minute,â€￾ Lilly heard behind her, and someone grabbed her right hand and dragged her in their direction. Lilly tried to follow, but glanced back at Ryan to mouth “see you aroundâ€￾ before she had to turn back and see where she was going.

So went the next hour of the party, as Lilly was constantly dragged in one direction after another, first to answer some questions, then to shake hands with a sponsor, then to meet someone else who had arrived unexpectedly. Between her obligations, Lilly tried to scan the crowd for Ryan, but it was usually another second or two before someone else called her name or poked her shoulder or tugged on her sleeve for attention. Around eight-forty-five, Lilly was on a tiny riser they had set up at one end of the main room, saying a few remarks that they had prepared for their guests. When Lilly was done and set down the microphone, the crowd resumed mingling, and Lilly walked back to the bar with careful, delicate steps. Despite her outward grace, her feet were terribly sore. Her toes were cramped and aching, and it felt like the insoles of her shoes were peeling apart more and more with every step. Lilly wanted to see three things: a chair to sit in, another glass of pinot, and Ryan Baker. The glass of wine came quickly, and as Lilly saw Ryan approaching the bar, she thought two out of three wasn’t bad.

Lilly leaned up against the bar, again taking some of her weight off of her right foot. “I’m sorry about that earlier,â€￾ she said.

“Hey, it’s your party,â€￾ Ryan said. “You’re important tonight.â€￾

“Kinda wish I weren’t as important,â€￾ Lilly said, reminding herself not to down the whole glass as she sipped her wine. “It’s good, though!â€￾

“It is,â€￾ Ryan said. “Hey, would you like to sit down for a couple minutes?â€￾

Lilly had been trying to stretch her right foot, then her left, and now her weight was shared between the bar and her left foot as she flexed her right knee and rotated her ankle again. “Oh God yes,â€￾ she said, not even trying to hide her excitement. “These shoes are killing me.â€￾

“They’re really tall,â€￾ Ryan said, glancing down at Lilly’s black pumps as she set her right foot down again.

“They’re pinching my toes,â€￾ Lilly said, letting her guard down. “I’ve been standing all night.â€￾

“Then let’s go find somewhere to sit down,â€￾ Ryan said, turning to look for an open chair or two.

Just then, Lilly’s co-worker Holly appeared. “Lilly,â€￾ she asked, “can you come over here for a minute?â€￾

Lilly’s heart sank and she could have sworn her toes cried in protest. She glanced back at Ryan. “I’ll have a chair when you’re ready,â€￾ he said, smiling. Lilly felt a little comfort in that as she followed her co-worker.

“By the way, you look lovely, Holly,â€￾ Lilly said, acknowledging her junior co-worker’s party dress.

“You’re gorgeous,â€￾ Holly said. “Who is that?â€￾

“Ryan Baker,â€￾ Lilly said. “He’s from one of the sponsors.â€￾

“Lucky you,â€￾ Holly said, smiling. “Lil, do you mind if I head out a little early? My boyfriend just called, he got off work early and wants to go out.â€￾

Such was the risk of a Saturday-night Christmas party. “No, go ahead,â€￾ Lilly said. “I get the feeling we’ll be winding down in another hour anyway. The bar and food are gone by then, anyway.â€￾

“Okay, thanks!â€￾ Holly said, giving Lilly a hug before leaving. Lilly had barely had a chance to recover before being swept into another circle of conversation, this time with one of her bosses and a couple sponsors. Lilly smiled, acted gracious, sipped her wine, and tried to ignore her shoes, even as they grew more and more uncomfortable.

One conversation led to two and three, and the chair Ryan had promised to find seemed further and further away. Mercifully, one of the conversations had been a walking one that included a stop back at the bar, but even Lilly’s third glass of wine could not drown the pain radiating from her toes. Lilly felt like she had been tiptoeing all night, and even her arches and heels were sore from her sexy but traitorous pumps.

At last, Lilly’s companions wandered off in search of a restroom, and Lilly was alone for a moment. Her eyes flitted around the room, looking for Ryan or an empty chair as she lifted one foot ever so slightly, her heel almost popping out of the shoe. Setting her latest empty wine glass down, she took a few painful steps in the direction of the corridor that led to the staff offices, and most notably hers.

Lilly was about halfway down the hall when she heard someone calling her name quietly behind her. She glanced back to see Ryan making his way down the corridor. “Where are you sneaking off to?â€￾ he asked.

“My office is down here,â€￾ Lilly said. “I need to escape for a few. You can come though.â€￾

“How are your feet doing?â€￾

Lilly opened her office door and clicked on the light. “So sore,â€￾ she said, walking around to her desk. “Is it obvious?â€￾

“Maybe a little,â€￾ Ryan said. He nudged the door shut behind them.

“I’m gonna change my shoes,â€￾ Lilly said.

“Change your shoes?â€￾

“Every girl keeps spare shoes in her desk for these moments,â€￾ Lilly said. She sat down in her desk chair and slid open the shoe drawer. Inside, she saw her tall dancing shoes, her spare heels, and a pair of basic flip-flops. Ryan looked over her shoulder as Lilly realized that her emergency flats were missing. “My flats,â€￾ she whispered.

“Your flats?â€￾

“Oh, Holly,â€￾ Lilly said, suddenly remembering. “I lent my pair of emergency flats to one of my co-workers this afternoon, for the party.â€￾ She closed the shoe drawer. “So I don’t have any shoes to change into.â€￾

“You can at least take your heels off,â€￾ Ryan said.

“I can’t go back out there in stocking feet,â€￾ Lilly said, reaching down and rubbing the tops of her feet.

“You don’t have to,â€￾ Ryan said. “Just take them off in here.â€￾

“I don’t know if I can put them back on,â€￾ Lilly said in protest. But Ryan was already dragging a chair over to Lilly’s desk, and he sat down across from her. He reached down and took Lilly’s right foot in his hand, raising it up with the heel of her shoe cupped in his left hand and her ankle in his right. Gently, he wiggled the heel of her shoe down her stockinged heel until her heel popped free, then he eased the shoe from her foot. Lilly watched as Ryan slowly removed the shoe from her silken foot, then set the empty pump at her side. Lilly sighed as she flexed her nylon-sheathed toes. “Ooh,â€￾ she cooed involuntarily as Ryan lowered her foot and took her left foot and ankle in his hands the same way. She felt her not-quite-as-painful left shoe pop free from her heel, then slide effortlessly off her toes. “Thank you,â€￾ she whispered lightly as she rotated her left foot and wiggled her toes tentatively. The feeling of her shoes coming off rivaled the last time Lilly had had sex, but she was hardly about to admit that to Ryan.

“Is that better?â€￾ Ryan asked.

Lilly stretched her legs out, pointing her toes in and her heels out as she tried to knead her feet against the carpeted floor. Her high heels were a part of the independent-woman aura she tried to project, and with the heels gone, she felt that aura had slipped as well. “God, yes,â€￾ she said, at last in a speaking voice.

“Here,â€￾ Ryan said, standing up and nudging his chair closer to Lilly. “Put your feet up.â€￾

Lilly swung her legs up onto Ryan’s chair as he dragged another chair close. “Thank you so much,â€￾ she said, pointing her feet and wiggling her toes. “I wish I could have done that, like, an hour ago.â€￾

“You should have,â€￾ Ryan said. “Half the women out there aren’t wearing shoes right now.â€￾

“But I’m the hostess,â€￾ Lilly said, looking down her long, black stockinged legs as she wiggled her aching feet. “I can’t be out there in stocking feet.â€￾

“Who says you can’t?â€￾ Ryan asked.

“It wouldn’t be classy,â€￾ Lilly lamented. She picked up her empty right shoe off the floor and examined it. Sure enough, the insole under her toes had come unglued and was all wrinkled. The creases in the insole had been tormenting her toes for hours. “Cheap shoes,â€￾ she said, picking up her left shoe and finding the same wear to the insole. “I’ve only worn these a couple times.â€￾

Ryan reached out for one and Lilly let him take the right heel from her. “That doesn’t look comfortable,â€￾ he said, rotating the shoe to see inside.

“I don’t know if I can put these back on,â€￾ Lilly said. “Ryan, would you rub my feet?â€￾

Lilly stunned herself with her request. Maybe it was the wine talking, but she had barely met the man and now she expected him to rub her feet? But Ryan nodded kindly, and patted his lap. Lilly pointed her toes and arched her feet, then raised them over the arm of the chair and swiveled her chair to face Ryan, her silken feet landing in his lap. Ryan took Lilly’s right foot in his hands, his thumbs under the ball of her foot, his fingers around the top, and started kneading her foot like a ball of bread dough. Lilly smiled and stretched her left foot flat, spreading her toes wide as she rubbed her sole against Ryan’s dress slacks. The fabric felt soft and smooth through her thin stocking. She looked up, and Ryan was smiling back.

Lilly and Ryan sat there for a moment. Lilly felt like she had been disarmed, her confidence and authority discarded on the floor as Ryan rubbed her foot and she kneaded Ryan’s thigh in response. And as Ryan switched his hands to Lilly’s left foot, stretching her toes out under the black nylons, Lilly stretched her right leg forward, her toes threading through Ryan’s shirt buttons, flicking at his tie.

Lilly sat mesmerized for a few minutes longer as Ryan switched back to her right foot, then her left again, flexing her toes, squeezing her heels and ankles, folding the outsides of her feet down as if there were a seam running down her foot. Lilly glanced at the clock on her desk. It had only been ten minutes, but it felt so much longer. She slid her feet from Ryan’s lap, dragging her toes along his slacks, and stood up tentatively, flexing her stockinged feet against the carpeted floor. She took a few delicate steps. Her feet felt sore but better, and she did not like the idea of stuffing her feet back into her tall, sexy shoes. “I can’t wear those,â€￾ she said.

“Do you have another pair of heels?â€￾ Ryan asked.

Lilly went back to her desk and pulled out the shoe drawer. She fished out her basic spare pumps. They were almost identical to her fancy shoes, except that they were only three-inch heels and she had bought them on clearance at Target. The plus, as she slipped each foot gingerly into a shoe, was that they were made a little wider than her Nine West pumps, and that merely meant she did not want to cry as she took her first steps. She kicked the Nine West heels under her desk as she and Ryan walked toward the office door. “Thank you,â€￾ Lilly said with a bright smile as the two of them slipped through the door and back to the party.

Lilly had only made it as far as the end of the hallway from her office before her feet started to hurt again. She stopped at the end of the hall and arched her left foot, her heel popping freely from her shoe. Lilly slipped her left pump off and glided her foot back down atop the pump, feeling the top of the shoe rub against her sole. Lilly rubbed her foot back and forth, scratching her sole with the edge of the shoe, then folded her leg back to adjust the toe seam of her nylons. She hesitantly slipped the shoe back on, glancing around the room to see if she had been caught.

Ryan had stood by Lilly the whole time. “Are you okay?â€￾ he whispered.

“My feet still hurt,â€￾ Lilly said, leaning against the wall as she did the same with her right foot, rubbing her sole against the top of her shoe, then stretching her leg back, rotating her ankle, and slipping her shoe back on. The seam of her nylon was crooked across her toes, though, so she slipped the pump back off, folding her leg back and reaching down to straighten out the annoying seam. As she lowered her foot back to her shoe, she saw her pump skitter across the floor a few feet, and her toes brushed the carpet where her shoe used to be. Lilly looked up and back at Ryan, who simply smiled. Lilly took a couple steps forward, tipping her pump back on its sole before slipping it back on.

Now out of the hallway and back in the room, Lilly resumed playing hostess, chatting with guests and meeting people. Some of the early guests had left, but there were still plenty of people around, and to Lilly’s chagrin, too few chairs for everyone. She jealously noted that Ryan was at least partly right; there were a few women sitting with their shoes half-on or toppled over by a chair. Lilly’s toes throbbed in protest, and she wished she could do the same. Instead, she resorted to rocking back on one heel, or leaning into a chair’s back while popping her heel free and arching her cramping foot, or rocking her feet from side to side. She felt desperate and unprofessional fidgeting like that.

Lilly walked over to the bar for one last glass of wine, as they were starting to pack up the catering setup for the night. Leaning on the bar, Lilly slipped her right shoe off, rubbing her aching foot on the carpet floor. Just for a minute, she rationalized as she sipped her wine. She watched her guests from the bar as she stood there in one shoe for a bit.

Lilly was looking down at her barely-visible nylon toes when someone touched her shoulder. She looked up to see a couple of her long-time donors with their coats in hand. “We’re heading out, Lilly,â€￾ one of them said. “Thanks for a great party.â€￾

“You’re welcome!â€￾ Lilly said, stuffing her stockinged foot into her Target pump. Her toe seam twisted as she did, but she tried to ignore it as she took careful steps following her guests to the exit door. “I’m glad you could make it.â€￾ They said some final goodbyes before Lilly let them out and closed the door behind them. Once they left, she slipped her right shoe off again, reaching down and adjusting the toes of her nylons before carefully slipping the shoe back on. Lilly never remembered a pair of nylons giving her so much trouble. It was as if her feet had been playing “The Princess and the Peaâ€￾ all night.

Lilly desperately wanted to sit down, but as she walked back from the door she bumped into a couple more departing couples, and so they had to talk. Lilly smiled and thanked them for coming, and discreetly popped her right heel from her shoe as she tried to stretch her toes without getting caught in the act. Her toes still cried in pain, so she slipped her foot out and glided her toes over the top of the shoe, settling her heel into the heel cup so as to make it look less noticeable. She stretched her toes as she said her last goodbyes to the departing guests, then slipped the shoe back on.

The caterers were leaving next, and with them the bar, so Lilly shook hands with them and sent them on their way. When they were gone, she turned to look at what remained of her party. There were decorations, and there was music, and there were a few couples sitting around in a ring of chairs. And there was Ryan Baker, in one of them, looking back at her with his hand patting an empty seat as he smiled.

Lilly walked over to the vacant chair. Gracefully, she stepped out of her pumps, nudging them under the chair with one foot. The low-pile carpet against her aching feet felt heavenly. Lilly sat down, folding her left foot under the chair and crossing her right leg over her left knee. It was only as she looked at her gracefully-pointed stockinged foot that she realized what she had done. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she looked up at the other people surrounding her. They were still in conversation amongst each other, and two of the women were dangling their heels from their toes. Lilly would have done that if her feet didn’t hurt so much, she reasoned, as she slid one hand down her leg to massage her dangling foot.

“You made it,â€￾ Ryan said, reaching over and rubbing his hand on Lilly’s waist.

“Thank you for saving me a seat,â€￾ Lilly said. “I had to sit down.â€￾

“I don’t know how you made it through the whole night standing in those,â€￾ one of Lilly’s co-workers chimed in. She was the only woman not dangling her shoes, but only because she had not loosened the straps that forbade her from doing so.

“I didn’t,â€￾ Lilly said, stretching out both her legs and feet now that she was exposed. “My other heels were four inches. I changed into these in the office. They’re only three.â€￾

“I never would have noticed,â€￾ one of the other women said. She uncrossed her legs and swung her leg to the side of her chair, shaking her pump loose and stretching her now-bare foot in front of her. “You brought spare shoes?â€￾

“No, I keep them at my desk,â€￾ Lilly said. “You never know when you’ll need to change, so I keep a pair of basic black heels and flats in my drawer.â€￾

“That’s really smart,â€￾ the third woman chimed in. “I do that in the winter in case I have to wear boots to work.â€￾

“You should have switched for your flats,â€￾ Lilly’s co-worker said.

“I couldn’t,â€￾ Lilly said. “I let Holly borrow them before the party. And besides, you can’t wear flats with a little black dress.â€￾ She folded her left leg back and crossed her right leg over her knee again. She curled her left toes under her foot, sighing as she heard the slightest crack of her tired foot.

“These are cuter anyway,â€￾ Ryan said, reaching down and tickling Lilly’s dangling right sole. Lilly’s foot squirmed in protest, even though the tickle felt soothing.

“I think it’s about time to call it a night myself,â€￾ Lilly’s co-worker said, standing up. “Ready to go, honey?â€￾ she asked her husband, who Lilly thought seemed to be watching her swaying stockinged foot.

“Oh, sure,â€￾ the distracted husband replied.

“We should let you get wrapped up here anyway,â€￾ the barefoot woman said, slipping her open-toed pump back on. “Lilly, you did a great job tonight. Thank you for having us.â€￾

“Thank you!â€￾ Lilly said. She stood up and was going to step into her shoes, but Ryan put a hand on her waist again and pulled her away from that side of her chair. She mouthed “my shoes,â€￾ but he shook his head and whispered, “don’t bother.â€￾

“Yes, we had a great time,â€￾ one of the other women added. “Thank you for having all of us over tonight.â€￾

“Our pleasure,â€￾ Lilly said, following the other women to get their coats. She felt awkward doing so without her shoes, but no one seemed to care, and she was unsure if she could even put her heels back on at this point.

With smiles and handshakes, Lilly sent the last guests on their way, then closed the office door with some finality. She turned back to the empty foyer to see Ryan leaning against a wall, smiling. “Well, done, Miss Preston,â€￾ he said, clapping his hands jokingly.

“It was a great party,â€￾ Lilly said, “wasn’t it?â€￾

“Everyone seemed to think so,â€￾ Ryan said.

“And you?â€￾ Lilly asked, taking lazy steps back into the room, arching her feet so she was walking on her toes, her heels raised ever slightly.

“I had a great time,â€￾ Ryan said. “I’m not so sure you did.â€￾

“Oh, it was nice,â€￾ Lilly said, sinking into a chair. “But oh my God, do my feet hurt.â€￾ She swung her feet onto the chair next to her and stretched her toes, wiggling them.

Ryan knelt down next to Lilly’s chair and kneaded Lilly’s feet with his thumbs. “May I?â€￾ he asked.

Lilly felt like she should say no. For the last hour or so, she had been traipsing around in a pair of heels she bought when she was a college freshman. Her toes were hot, the balls of her feet had felt a bit moist in her heels, and now she had been walking around in her stocking feet on a dirty floor. She felt bad that Ryan was touching her feet. And yet, the pressure of Ryan’s thumbs on her tortured soles was the best thing she had felt since...since the last time Ryan was touching her feet. “Don’t stop,â€￾ she said, smiling as she wiggled her stockinged toes.

“I have to,â€￾ Ryan said. “I have to get home at some point tonight.â€￾

“Me, too,â€￾ Lilly said, closing her eyes as Ryan continued rubbing her feet. “I don’t know how I’m getting home.â€￾

“What do you mean?â€￾ Ryan asked.

“I took the T from my apartment,â€￾ Lilly said.

“Well, they run for another hour and a half, at least, right?â€￾

“Yeah, but I walked there,â€￾ Lilly said, wiggling her feet in Ryan’s hands.

“Ooh,â€￾ Ryan said, grasping what Lilly meant.

“I can’t put these heels back on,â€￾ Lilly said. “And definitely not the other shoes.â€￾

“Wait,â€￾ Ryan said, standing up and heading for the door.

“What?â€￾ Lilly asked.

“I’ll be right back,â€￾ Ryan said, leaving the office but making sure the door was unlocked behind him.

Lilly sat there, her aching feet still outstretched, wondering what Ryan was up to. Confused, she turned around and stood up, picking up her discount-store pumps from next to another chair. She kneaded her feet against the carpet for a moment before gingerly walking back to her office. She swung her office door open and walked around to her desk. She set the three-inch heels on her desk and fished her Nine West heels out from underneath, looking over them critically. They were dreadfully uncomfortable, but they were still sexy. She could replace the insoles. Surely that would save them for another party. Or another half a party.

Lilly set the tall heels next to their shorter cousins on her desk. One pair of them had to get her home. She wanted to leave the spare heels back in her desk, but they would be the easier shoes to make it home in, by far. And the thought of putting either of them on again made Lilly want to cry. Her feet still hurt, even with Ryan’s best efforts.

Suddenly, the office door swung open again and Ryan reappeared, with a small box in one hand. “I’m back,â€￾ he said triumphantly. “Where are you?â€￾

“I’m here,â€￾ Lilly said, walking back down the hallway from her office. She stood in the doorway, hands by her side, shoeless, trying to hold a straight face. “And I’m confused.â€￾

“I had to get something for you,â€￾ Ryan said. “So you can get home tonight.â€￾

“What is it?â€￾ Lilly asked.

Ryan took Lilly’s hand and tugged her toward a chair. “Sit down,â€￾ he said.

Lilly sank into a chair. “You don’t need to tell me twice,â€￾ she said, laughing.

“Here,â€￾ Ryan said, setting the box in Lilly’s lap.

Lilly looked at the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of black satin ballet slippers. Lilly was a bit stunned. It was tremendously thoughtful, but how did he pull that off? She looked up at Ryan.

“I got these for Charlotte,â€￾ Ryan said. “For Christmas. They were in my car. But I thought of someone who would give them a better home. Someone who deserves them more.â€￾

“They’re adorable,â€￾ Lilly said, taking them out of the box. She had some satin slippers at home, but these were made better, with tiny ribbons atop the toes, and what felt like plush foam insoles. “I feel bad walking outside in these.â€￾

“Well, I can’t let you walk home in nylons,â€￾ Ryan said. “And you’re not going home in heels.â€￾

Lilly pulled a slipper on each of her sore feet. They fit snugly but the feeling was magical. She stood up and looked down. Her sexy stockinged feet now looked cute, innocent, harmless. And the aches in her toes and arches and heels now felt softer, like she was standing on a pillow. “These are amazing,â€￾ Lilly said. “Thank you.â€￾

“My pleasure,â€￾ Ryan said. He leaned in to kiss Lilly’s cheek, but Lilly turned her head instead, locking lips with Ryan briefly. Ryan was stunned, but after a momentary pause, he went along with it, completing the kiss.

Ryan and Lilly gathered their coats, and Lilly made her way around the office locking the doors for the night. Every step in her new slippers felt a little better. “Wait a sec,â€￾ she said as she locked the main door on their way out. “Your car is downstairs?â€￾

“Well, yeah,â€￾ Ryan said. “I drove here.â€￾

“So you could have just offered to drive me home.â€￾

“I was going to do that anyway,â€￾ Ryan said, smiling.

“So you didn’t have to give me the slippers,â€￾ Lilly said.

“Why not?â€￾

“Because,â€￾ Lilly said as she opened the outside door. “I could have just worn my heels to the car and toughed it out for a couple steps.â€￾

“Nah, you couldn’t have,â€￾ Ryan said, holding the door from behind.

“Why not?â€￾ Lilly asked, stepping outside. The winter air nipped at her stockinged legs, and the concrete felt cold through the soles of her slippers. She wiggled her feet against her satiny insoles.

“First, because I couldn’t let you,â€￾ Ryan said. “And second, because then I couldn’t walk you across the street for a coffee.â€￾ He motioned across the street to a tiny café that was still open.

“Oh,â€￾ Lilly said, following Ryan’s gesture.

Ryan said nothing, and held out his hand.

Lilly took Ryan’s hand, then rubbed her left foot against Ryan’s ankle, her toes searching under his pantleg. “I did kind of want to get these slippers off,â€￾ she said, smiling.

“Well, now that you put it that way,â€￾ Ryan said, grinning back as the two crossed the street.

---

Comments are always appreciated!

With my fiancee, I sometimes do, but usually I don't have to look. She doesn't like wearing shoes, and she knows I love that about her, and so usually she'll rest her feet on mine, or nudge my ankles/shins with her toes. It's still fun to see. I have joked with her about playing footsie with our fem...

Years ago in my online-dating days, I started talking with a girl who interested me, but since she was a single mom, I sort of filed her into "friends only" territory. She and I would chat almost daily, and I quickly discovered she had a thing for not wearing her shoes. As I sometimes did ...

And of course the worst is when you cannot tell if the shoeplayer is actually male! That's the one that gets me. I really don't mind posed versus candid; if the quality is clean, the feet are pretty and the action is good, I can't complain about details. But too many times, videos are posted that l...

Only if there's a struggle. If she has to stop and loosen her straps because she can't get it back on, or if it keeps skittering across the floor out of her reach, or if she finds her stockings are twisted or uncomfortably bunched around her foot when she puts it on, it can be a turn-on. Otherwise, ...

Thank you guys. She's a special one. I hope people have the common sense not to bring her attention to her behavior.

Here in New England, the boots are something of a seasonal necessity. But when the big chain shoe store has half the store set aside for womens' nearly-identical boots...

Though to be fair, they do the same thing in the summer for sandals.

I'm not exactly the short-winded type...so I don't mind a longer tale.

I was wondering if you'd be able to do a Christmas story this year. I have one started, but I've been unable to find time to finish it. Or get past halfway. Maybe tomorrow early...

For me, the more often, the better (never boring) as long as she's at least average looking. Some may consider it anticipation to see someone really attractive shoeplay infrequently but I consider it wasted time in comparison to the sure thing. I agree with you, with the added stipulations that (a)...

Last night I got a nice little treat. My fiancee, a couple friends and I were out at the pub for Monday night trivia. My fiancee and the other girl in our group just had a little shopping trip to help teach our friend "how to dress girly" (matching and coordinating colors, making outfits, ...

I've never discussed it with my family, but as far as I've been able to tell, I don't think anyone in my family is interested in feet.

I wrote elsewhere on this forum that Chris Scanlon was my shopping-channel gateway drug. I was flipping channels when I breezed past a shopping channel ad for an exercise machine and, wait, what was this? A hostess using said machine, in her stocking feet, heels off to the side? Let's say I didn't j...

I always find these posts kind of fascinating because I've never really had the balls to risk being caught in public. Maybe it's a generational thing, maybe it's that I was more comfortable indulging my fetish from afar, or growing up in an era where women didn't make themselves as available as they...