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The Shoes

By Phillip Ghee (USA)
Part 2

    The straight razor moved as light as a feather and as stealthy as a feral cat, effortlessly up and down Alisa’s pale and taut legs. Giacoppo had positioned his face so close to her legs that she could feel his warm escaping breath. So close was he that occasionally a light citrus froth would accumulate on his thick mustache. Giacoppo would at times use the back of his shaving hand to wipe clear the lathery residue while at other times; he would simply use his tongue to free the entrapped dewy particles from his thick bushy mustache. After a few minutes she became accustomed to the breath on her legs and the tickle of the razor’s journey through her private milky way. She allowed her disgust to wane. No sooner had she relaxed in the professionalism of the man did she detect an ever so slight movement. There was clearly a so unnecessary movement going on, some massaging, with what she hoped was at best just a thumb. She hesitated before zeroing in on the culprit. It was indeed G., sneaky, thumb in motion. The stubby, of pleasant stock, appendage of a man was stealthily engaged in circling a fleshy mound of curvy yet delicate muscle, just underneath her knee and several critical measures above her calf.

    She was just about to issue him a stern rebuke when it occurred to her that, removed from her years as a toddler, this was the first person to freely have access to this part of her body outside of her own hand. Sure Bojek, her husband, had his way with her, often roughly and abruptly, however he had neither the desire nor interest to explore her fully. His focus would only concentrate on areas of her body that were deemed relevant by most men of that day. G. was performing his job in a professional manner and since she judged that he perceived that she didn’t notice his taking of liberties; she extended him some professional leniency. And then there was the promise of the shoes.

    The humidity of the day was reaching its peak. Small streams of sweat transformed themselves into various river-lets that ran down the length of G.’s arms. Bashfully she tried to avoid the man who arms rested freely on her naked legs. She averted her attention to the sweaty waterways. She scoped the various swirls and changes in course the small rivers would make as they made their way down G.’s shoulders and arms. His arms, she thought, were a strict contradiction to what she viewed as his portly trunk and undeniable paunch of a belly. His shoulders were broad. His arms were muscular, almost to athletic proportions. His body was even more bronzed tan than his swarthy Mediterranean face, and with a leathery sheen. The finale resting place of many of the rivers was often the surface of her own body.
 
    She watched in horror or disgust or perhaps fascination, she wasn't sure. One by one drops and sometimes entire rivers would empty themselves upon patches of her own shimmering wet and freshly shaved patches of bare skin. It was G. himself who put an end to these merging geologies. He pulled the tucked-in part of the sauce-stained sleeveless undershirt out from under his trousers. With the clean ends of the undergarment his wiped clean all the excess moisture from his face and arms, exposing briefly his animal-like furred belly. He managed to catch the look of repulsion in Alisa's eyes. He camouflaged the belly with the returned undershirt and with a tip of the English-men's hat, pardoned himself. Then he returned to complete the work.

    Giacoppo laid down the straight razor. He removed from his kit a watered-down cologne which he applied to her legs with a series of generous small slaps. He them removed a pristine clean white cotton towel and rubbed it sparingly and removed any excess traces of lather or errant pools of cologne.

    Alisa bent forward to inspect the completed work, inadvertently hiking her dress up a few measures above what she had previously committed to. To be honest she could detect no less of imaginary hairs than before she had allowed the clownish man access to her limbs. But to look at the buffed legs shining and radiating just took her breath away. She had never felt more like a woman until this point. Whatever it was that G. had done to her must have brought forth such remarkable results, she reasoned. G stood back and for the first time since the procedure began, allowed her some respectable distance. He marveled at the shaven legs as well as the newly introduced parts of her higher thighs. Alisa grew inpatient and uncomfortable with his probing eyes. She brought him back to reality with a sharp snap.

          "Giacoppo! What are you staring at? I thought you could not see." She accused. Startled, Giacoppo flinched; he said nothing. He removed the hat and used the towel to wipe away more accumulated sweat. He ran the towel over his bushy mustache and allowed it to absorb longer than Alisa thought necessarily. "Well, what now?" She hastened, forgetting in the taunt to thank him for the buffeted legs. G. removed himself from the patio without a word and returned later with the package of nylons in one hand and the scandalous shoes in the other. She motioned towards the shoes but G. moved them slightly beyond her reach. He now returned to the authoritative tone that he had used so frequently with her during the high heel training.

           "First thing first, Alisa. Even Roma wasn't built in a day!" He lectured.
            If I was to be rushed and make just one slip, a one-time error with the nylons,
            they will run and the shoes will never be yours," he threatened.

Having regained her respect, G. gingerly removed the nylons from the packaging. He surgically rolled them inwardly into an oval ring. He returned to his stool for a strategic placement. The first ring disappeared into his cupped hands. His took hold of her foot. She suppressed a tickle as the plump thumb ran the underside of her foot. Slowly. with both hands planted securely on either-side of her legs, he moved the coveted material up her limb. These fancy French distributed and Chinese derived nylons were like nothing she had never seen in many respects. Most stockings needed attachment, by some method, to a lady's undergarments. Yet these were longer than the aforementioned and traveled slightly further up the leg than the traditional stocking. They also did not need securing to anything other than her bare thigh due to a more tightly spun elastic band which graced the top of the hose. G. repeated the process with the other stocking and on the other leg.

    Alisa had not realized that she was breathing heavily, almost panting, until G. commanded her to relax and take deep, timed breaths. Once she had regained her composure he handed her the desired shoes. It was the first time she had gotten to examine them, and at her leisure.

    The black polished leather, what little of it there was, still emitted an alluring, wild animal fragrance. The leather shined as brilliantly as the pure silver buckles and claps that held it captive to the shoe. The sinfully erect heels were the highlight of the shoes. They must have been at least 13 centimeters (approx. 5 inches) in stature, if not taller. The tips of the heels were adorned with more pure silver. She became light-headed and woozy just holding the shoes. No luxury had been spared in the making of these shoes; even the soles of the very bottom were bathed in a rich ox blood hue.

    They were warm to the touch, much warmer than the ambient temperature of the day. One could even say there were hot. Had this foolish man stashed them in direct sunlight, she wondered. She focused on the heels once more. She had doubts that, even with the
the rigorous training Giacoppo had subjected her to, she would be able to stand in such towering shoes, yet alone walk in them. She grew even fainter and imagined that she had actually seen sparks, tiny blue embers of flame, throwing themselves off the stiletto- heels?

     This time Giacoppo had run out of patience. He bid her to put the shoe on and walk the distance of the patio in them. Alisa put her stocking-blessed feet into the shoes. She uncharacteristically smiled at Giacoppo and, silently and courtly. extended her arm towards him in a gesture requesting assistance. Equally, uncharacteristically, G. removed himself even further from her person and commanded her once more to walk the distance of the patio.

    She was slightly insulted and could not believe that Giacoppo would pass up an opportunity that would undoubtedly lead to her body, the full weight of her body, what in resting and mingling with his own. Giacoppo’s refusal was as royal as her invitation was courtly and it was non-negotiable.