The Client's Request (Story)

[HeroOfKvatch]

It's been a while. After a bout of covid and a novel in the works, I haven't had much time to write for you all. Couple that with 5 abandoned stories, I wasn't able to get one out on schedule for the last two months. I hope you enjoy this one, though!

Isabella checked her watch, perhaps for the 5th time in the last minute. The train was already five minutes late in typical fashion, but every moment it took was a moment Isabella didn’t have to spare. She needed to make it to her assignment by three, and she had only ever accounted for ten minutes leeway. 3 minutes had been lost already when her white pantyhose got snagged on a passerby’s luggage and she was forced to go back to her apartment and get another pair.

Every second more desperate, every second more impatient. Impatiently, she tapped her foot against the station floor. Finally, her ears picked up the faintest clanging of a train’s wheels. It got louder as it approached the station before screeching to a halt.

The people onboard came off in a monsoon. Isabella was waiting for the first moment the doors weren’t clogged with the deboarding.

1…
2…
3…

And finally, a gap opened up. Isabella rushed into the gulf and became the first to board. It didn’t help how fast the train departed, but it felt faster to herself. Yet before her right leg could get in, the next passenger also went to board. Her shoe had just begun to lift off the ground; the heel was at a 45 degree angle.

The next passenger’s shoe stamped onto it, causing the shoe to fall off her heel. She continued to lift her leg but the shoe stayed. Before either of them even realised what happened, Isabella’s shoe had been effectively kicked and it fell into the gap.

Isabella only noticed when her toes felt the cold steel of the carriage. The other passenger just assumed they had kicked a piece of rubbish. While she wanted to stay and look, her time restraints and the oncoming flood of boarders forced her to leave without it.

With the final few hopping on the train, it departed for the eastern parts of the city. There was a small silver-lining for Isabella. Because she had gotten a seat, seldom could see her exposed foot if she tucked her feet under it. Of course, it was still dreadfully outweighed by everything else. Firstly, there was no way she would be on time, secondly, she had ruined her first pair of pantyhose and now this pair was surely to be ruined as well, and thirdly, she had chosen a nice, expensive pair of shoes.

They were navy blue suede pumps, with a white heel cap and a pointed toe. They were not irreplaceable both monetarily and supply-wise, but it was the principle of it. They had yet to be worn out, and were already set to be thrown out.

Only the ambient noise of the wheels and the rails accompanied the train ride. Isabella opened up her phone and played on it, waiting for the 15 minute transit to pass. Under the seat, her uncovered right toes began to feel frosty in the late Autumn weather. They began to scratch at the back of her remaining shoe, slowly clawing and clawing until it popped off her heel.

They burrowed into the warm sole of her other foot, trying to find heat. She pressed her left foot down, pushing her other toes and sandwiching them between the residual heat of her shoe sole, and the refreshing warmth of her sole. 15 more minutes of her feet intermingling, the train approached her destination. She picked up her briefcase and was the only one to deboard from her carriage. Thus, everyone noticed her singular shoe. Some snickered, which she didn’t hear, though most kept their thoughts to themselves.

To her relief, the platform was mostly devoid. A few people stood here and there, though they were distracted by newspapers, books, and phones. Ascending the stairs to the surface, she was vividly aware of how the grey steps had a layer of filth so thick some of it had turned nearly black.

“If these pantyhose aren’t ripped by the end, I definitely won’t wear them again without several good cleans…” she said to herself.

Joy ran across her face as she remembered the client’s building was a literal stone’s toss from the train station. Her brief walk had already led her to it. She retrieved her access card from her briefcase and presented it to the receptionist. “Alright… 3pm meeting with Ms. Kerry. She should be in her office. Fourth floor, two doors on the right.”

“Thank you,” Isabella replied, before strutting off to the elevator. The receptionist glanced over the wooden enclosure of the desk and saw Isabella’s unshod foot. “Guess that explains why she’ll be late…” they muttered to themselves. Isabella wasn’t late quite yet, but had got in the building at 2:59.

Isabella had a silent ride up to the fourth floor. No one was on it and no one got on, to her relief. The elevator doors shuttered open and she hurriedly shuffled over to Ms. Kerry’s office. Both because of her prudence, and not wanting to let others see her foot. The door almost opened by itself.

“You’re late, Ms. Lorraine,” Ms. Kerry exclaimed, her right heel dangling off her foot. The furious clack of each keypress she made made her right shoe bounce around on her toes that were covered in a veil of black pantyhose.

“I am very, very sorry, Ms. Kerry. As you can see,” Isabella stuck her foot out, “I had some trouble getting here.”

“Very well. Take a seat, we have a lot to discuss.” Isabella sat down in a plush office chair directly facing Ms. Kerry. Her sleek ginger hair, the colour of copper, stretched down to her shoulders and opposed the cobalt blue trench coat she wore. “And please, call me Luna.”

“Alright, Luna, let’s move onto what I came to discuss.” Luna flipped her left monitor around, letting Isabella privy to the graphs and numbers on it.

“We are currently looking for a company to produce our new…” As Luna spoke her hands moved in wild gestures, with each word leading to a new hand movement. Isabella glanced under the table as Luna explained what each company had offered. Her foot performed similar gestures. It swung slowly with soft words, and nearly flung off her foot with every strong word. It barely hung onto her toes during the most furious moments of dangling, hanging by merely the tip of her big toe.

“We were also discussing this cheaper company that still has a relatively high rating, BUT,” Luna belted out. Her black round-toe high heel was tossed off her foot, landing centimetres away from Isabella’s uncovered foot. “They seem to have some reviews that are especially poor, in terms of…” Luna rattled on the several issues that the company had and the concerns that arose from them. Her toes, inside of the pantyhose, were emulating the same gestures her fingers made.

“So, what do you recommend?”

“Well, for the type of product you’re making, I think…” Isabella discussed the information Luna had given her, and inserted personal knowledge she had garnered from previous work. Luna’s bare foot had begun to approach Isabella’s side of the table. “However, it is still worth considering…” Without Luna realising, her foot had begun to wander up Isabella’s leg. Her mind was listening to the tune of Isabella’s voice, taking in the insight she was giving.

Isabella most definitely realised. The nylon-on-nylon feeling was giving her goosebumps that climbed up her back. She continued on, despite the frivolous gesture, “I do, however, have a contact working in…” Luna’s foot had traversed all the way from Isabella’s ankle to her knee, and was poised to go inside of her skirt. Though it felt good in a strange way, Isabella knew she had to put an end to it. “Luna, your foot is on me.”

“Oh, sorry. I hadn’t noticed.” By the genuine look of shock on Luna’s face, Isabella knew it to be true. Luna’s foot retreated back to her side of the table, though it wasn’t long before she asked, “Isabella, can you pass me my shoe?” Isabella, silently, picked up the heel that still had a touch of warmth in it. She passed it under the table.

“So…” Isabella couldn’t find a way to break the awkward ice. Luna could. “So about that contact, what price could they get us if…” Their discussion led on for the next few hours. Luna’s shoe had been left on her side.

Every few moments, she had to mentally check she wasn’t groping Isabella with her foot, although their feet touched briefly many times. Isabella was accustomed to it, though Luna, holed up in her office most of the time, had never even encountered a friendly, accidental footsie. She had only seen footsies in movies and it had never been platonic, or even not on purpose.

The time to clock out approached sharply. With ten minutes left, Isabella and Luna had come to a conclusion. Isabella laid back in her seat, having talked for nearly two hours.

Luna suddenly piped up. “Isabella, would you like to accompany me to dinner?”

“Oh,” Isabella said, checking her watch, “I’d love to, but…” she looked at her uncovered foot.

“Don’t worry about it.” Luna kicked her empty shoe away, hitting a paper waste bin. “I’ll leave my shoe as well in solidarity.”

“That’s very kind of you, but there’s really no need.”

“I insist. If the lack of your shoe is your main objection, I’ll alleve it.” Luna in every way except physically dragged Isabella out of the room and into the elevator. The tertiary passenger looked at them funny, with both of them missing a shoe. Ms. Kerry caught them staring and snapped, “what are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” they said as they panned their eyes to the door. Her reputation as a ‘dragon’ to her employees had to be held up, in any way possible. The silent elevator ride stopped at the 8th floor. Isabella and Luna disembarked and Luna led the way to the dining hall. “Don’t expect fancy, though your expectations should be high.”

Isabella could tell Luna’s gait had been stunted. Her right leg limped and her foot shook unsteadily with each step. Isabella had, by now, been victim of having one shoe enough that she could walk unfettered unless her shoes had platforms.

The hostess glanced over after hearing the steps approaching. Oddly, even though it was distinctly two shoes, they had next to no cadence. The first foot she saw bending around the corner was covered in white nylon and no shoe. “No shoes, no service…” She muttered to herself. She had had to turn away many people who thought they could walk in without any shoes on.

Isabella’s shoed foot popped around the corner and the hostess, Octavia, popped an eyebrow of curiosity. This lady, who she didn’t recognise, had only a single shoe on. Should she let her in? Should she not? She had never encountered something like this, thus there were no proper guidelines. Does no shoes no service still apply? After all, she had a shoe.

Yet before any questions could be resolved, Ms. Kerry turned the corner. And to Octavia’s dismay, also in one shoe. There was no way she’d reject such a high-ranking company member. Her coming in was only short of the President coming in. And rejecting Ms. Kerry would just lead to her walking in any way.

Octavia was pigeonholed into saying, “Welcome, Ms. Kerry. I’ll get a table for you. We are a bit packed, though we should have enough tables.”

“Thank you, Octavia. I have brought a guest, so it will be for two.” Octavia guided them to a secluded booth in the corner with plush leather seats. Isabella looked towards the side and noticed another entrance, and another hostess. “Say, why do you have a company restaurant?”

“It’s a normal restaurant that just so happened to be in the right place. It originally took 5 minutes from our building to this building and most accepted it, but the President and his busy schedule made the 10 minute journey from his office at the top made him get a skybridge across and cut it to a minute.” Isabella was surprised that the company would invest so heavily for just a simple commute cut - or even that the restaurant had the necessary space to accommodate a new entrance.

They began to flip through the fanciful menu and Isabella noted, “this is quite American.”

“Yeah, me and most of my employees came from Chicago.” Which explained Luna’s mobster-like trench coat and why she pronounced it ‘chi-caw-go’. Before they could even read the whole menu and its wine options, the hostess from the other entrance came over. Had she already seated someone and forgotten about it? “Hello, I am Juneau Cassidy and- Oh, you already have menus?”

“Yes, Octavia sat us down here.”

“I see. Have a lovely night.” Waving goodbye, she marched towards Octavia and her booth. Her hands tightened into fists and she demanded the answer to, “Octavia, don’t you know that table is in my section? You’re not allowed to put them there.”

“I’m just thinking about the customers. Why should I let them be bogged down in bureaucracy?” Octavia brazenly flaunted the regulations in place every night. Juneau had been the original hostess, and the moment they decided to make two entrances and two hostesses, it became a logistical nightmare. Her complaints to the manager were disregarded so she couldn’t have Octavia making it harder. “You know we don’t have a good communications system. I don’t know what tables are taken if you take them.”

“The customer experience takes priority.” Juneau realised Octavia couldn’t be argued with. She’d just spout the same talking points. Looking down, she noticed that Octavia had slipped her white stockings out of her gorgeous candy red high heels. They amped up her height by 5 inches. Octavia was standing on the cool wood floor and the table blocked her view of her shoes.

“Fine then. But don’t be surprised if I start taking your tables.” She muttered, “or your shoes,” under her breath. Juneau’s leg poked around under the table. Using her own heel as a hook, she dragged Octavia’s left shoe from under the table. “Whatever.” Octavia turned to look at the door, waiting for the next customer. It gave Juneau free reign over what she wanted to do.

Juneau’s leg poked around under the table. Using her own heel as a hook, she dragged Octavia’s left shoe from under the table. While she could take both of her shoes, only taking one was far more devious. She kicked it away, enough to ensure Octavia couldn’t see it from the corner of her eye. Juneau picked up the glossy shoe and dumped it into the trash can around the corner.

Isabella kicked off her lone heel and sat cross-legged on the leather booth. Having already decided, they had to wait for a server to come over. “So, what made all of you cross the pond?”

“Most of our business partners, like you, were over here. It just made business easier, not having to wait for timezones and such.” Luna pushed her heel off with her other foot and rested her feet onto the other side of the booth, just besides Isabella. Every time she came here, she’d do so. The only exception being when her boss was there, but that was out of respect, not fear.

Isabella rubbed her toes that had endured rough stone and dirty streets. Her pantyhose had developed a thick black smudge on the underside, large enough and dark enough she wasn’t sure it could be washed out. She sighed and resigned to the fate that she’d lost a pair of shoes and two expensive pairs of pantyhose in one day.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat between the two girls, a frantic Octavia finally rushed over to take their order. “S-sorry for the wait, we had some issues so I’ll have to be your server for the night.” She was unsteady and her height shifted drastically every moment. Luna glanced down to see one foot with a bright red heel and the other with bright red toenails, peeking through the sheer white nylons. They almost looked shrink wrapped to her feet; even her uncovered foot was clearly sweaty.

Noticing Luna’s gaze shift, with Isabella’s soon to follow, Octavia hid the exposed foot behind her covered one. “So, were you guys ready to order?”

“Oh, yes.” Luna rattled off her dishes, then so did Isabella. They ordered a mid-range red wine to go with it. “Alright, thank you. I will return shortly with water.”

Octavia left with a stilted walk, trying to simultaneously go fast yet hide the obvious. With each footstep she left a thin film of sweat on the cold wooden floor that evaporated shortly. She knew it had to be Juneau who stole her shoe, but she didn’t have the time to confront her.

“What a night. Three women with only one shoe,” Isabella commented.

“She seemed much more nervous about it than you, and you were like a kid on their first day at school.”

“It’s because I’m used to it back in the office, though my nerves got to me when I had to meet up with a client.” Octavia rushed over, with two cups clinking and a jug of water. She set them down in front of the pair and said the wait would take longer than normal, but not exorbitantly long.

“Octavia, sit down here for a moment.”

“Well, I’d love to chat, but I-”

“Octavia. Sit down.”

“O-oh alright.” Octavia anxiously took a seat next to Luna. Luna reached under the table and pulled Octavia’s heel off her aching foot, letting it fall to the floor with a distinctive clack. Her hands smoothly moved up to Octavia’s suit jacket and unbuttoned, before slipping it off her shoulders and revealing her red blouse. “What are you doing?”

“You have to be more relaxed. Look more casual. Make it look like you took your shoes off, not lost one.” With a napkin from her pocket, Luna wiped off Octavia’s sweaty brow. “Now go on,” Luna said with a shove.

“Is that how you train your employees?”

“Of course. I gave the advice I needed to, then sent them on their way.”

Thirty minutes later, Octavia returned with a tray of their entrees and the bottle of wine. “Sorry for the long wait, but it’s finally here.” Her face had a chipper smile and her stance had gone from newborn giraffe to casual with her hand on her hip. The formerly red huffed cheeks had become a more mellow pink blush. As she departed to serve the next customers, she mouthed a thank you to Luna.

Luna and Isabella dug into their dinner. To Luna, it was a taste of home. To Isabella, it was a vacation to America. They loved how it mixed classical American food but spiced up enough to be called ‘fancy’ and perhaps even a slight bit exotic.

The tangy and spicy flavours left Luna’s mouth feeling dry. Popping open up the bottle of wine, she firstly poured a glass for Isabella. However, she gained a different idea for her own glass. Her hands searched underneath the table. They were blind and could only use touch. Her fingers hooked into her target; Isabella’s shoe.

Isabella giggled as Luna began pouring red wine into her shoe. It was useless without the partner. She could already see it staining the tan leather sole. After pouring enough to nearly fill the toebox, Luna said “cheers!” and raised the shoe, to which Isabella raised her glass. They clinked together, though the suede shoe made a far lower pitch dink. A small splash of red wine from Isabella’s shoe spilled out onto the table.

Luna tipped the shoe backwards and drank from the back. “Lavender perfume?”

Isabella giggled and said, “yes. I’m surprised you could even taste it.”

“Well, the nose isn’t far from the mouth. Some of the smell drifted north.” Luna poured out another round for both of them. They continued eating their meals, and the hordes of diners slowly dwindled down to a few tables on the outskirts. With the vast majority gone and the night winding down, Octavia sighed and slipped out of her workplace attitude.

“I need to find where Juneau put my other heel… those shoes cost a fortune.” She couldn’t ask Juneau; she’d never say where. Octavia walked around the dining room, asking customers whether they enjoyed their meal. Secretly, she was checking the tables for whether Juneau snuck it under them. “How did you find your meal?”

“... With my eyes?” joked Luna. “Seriously though, it was quite good as always.”

“How did you find your shoe?” teased Isabella.

“Well, I clearly didn’t. Have you possibly spotted it?”

“No, but from experience it’s probably in a closet or bin.” Isabella had gotten her shoe stolen enough times to get familiar with the usual hiding spots. “Alright, thanks, I’ll look there.” Octavia poked her foot around under the table, elegantly slipping on her right heel.

Octavia knew there were only a few bins Juneau would have access to. One outside each entrance, and Juneau had said before how she loathed the hot kitchen and talked smack about the chefs so she knew it wouldn’t be in any bins or cabinets in there.

She walked up to the trash can only a few metres away from her desk. Octavia opened it up like a chest and found the reward of her left shoe. She was lucky to find it undamaged and unscathed, for the bin had been unused until Juneau came along. Her foot effortlessly slipped back in, at long last united with its shoe.

Now came time for vengeance. Juneau had embarrassed her and tried to snub her out. Octavia, with her fists clenched, rushed over to Juneau’s desk. Yet she found the woman to be missing from her post. It was fine, technically, as there had been zero customers for the past 20 minutes. There were only the menus, the till, and Juneau’s jacket left. As Octavia explored the abandoned setup, she found the jackpot behind the desk.

Juneau, wherever she was, had left her dazzling heels that shone like sapphire, with a 5-inch heel. The heelcap was tipped off by a dash of gold, and the vamp was lined in a sparkly silver. To casually kick off into the corner and leave such luxurious shoes in a public space was Juneau’s downfall.

Octavia knelt down and decided the course of action. She could steal just one, tit for tat, eye for eye. But that didn’t quite satisfy her thirst. She snagged the two heels and casually walked away. The final few patrons that were chatting over their finished meals looked at her and the two pairs of shoes funnily, though took little note.

“So, I noticed you two had a few shoe troubles when you came in.” Octavia said, placing the heels on the table in front of Luna and Isabella.

“As did you,” Luna retorted.

Octavia giggled, “Well anyway, I had been um… gifted a pair of shoes but my feet are too small for them. If any of you want them, feel free.”

Isabella, with the only shoe she had stained and wet, inspected the heels. “They might just fit…” she muttered to herself. They looked a little worn down, with an illegible logo and clear stretching on the sides. The shoes were half a size down, but a clean pair was better than one wine-stained shoe.

She thought it was weird they still felt warm on the inside, though chalked it up to a vague excuse she’d forget in a second. Slipping them onto her feet, her face lit up as she didn’t have to walk out into the cold, foreboding city streets in her nylons.

“Well we’re probably done here,” Luna wrapped.

“Thank you very much, Octavia!” Isabella elatedly thanked and shook her hand.

“It was nice to have you two girls here, I hope you enjoyed your meals.”

“We sure did.” Luna picked up her jacket and pulled out her wallet. The three all walked over to the front desk. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay my part of it?”

“Nah nah, it’s fine,” Luna said, swiping her card through the reader.

‘Approved’ it read. Octavia thanked them again and said goodbye. Waving away as they left, Luna’s walk was stilted, unsteady from both her missing shoe and also the impacts of the wine. Isabella helped Luna back into the office building, though wasn’t sure what to do next. “Just take me to my office.” Luna answered it before she even asked.

After a brief elevator ride, the pair stumbled into the office. “How are you going to get home?”

“I’m not that intoxicated. Besides, I have a couch in the corner.” Carrying her over, Luna slumped into the red velvet sofa that Isabella hadn’t noticed beforehand. Luna kicked off her other shoe and laid down against a pile of cushions at one end, her feet dangling over the other end. “Goodnight Isabella.”

“Goodnight Luna, and goodbye,” Isabella said as she went out the door. Isabella departed for the night, boarding one of the last trains home. This time with both of her shoes on.

[Hamilton]

I enjoyed your story. Thank you for the effort to finish this one. I leave many stories unfinished too.

Cheers,

Hamilton