The Boots

“que passa amigas?” i ask. “anything new?” and rummage the glossy magazines of the lunch area.

“don’t touch them” one of my coworker advises. “you don’t want to see what’s inside”

ignoring her hushed voice, i pick up the shoe catalogue from Neiman Marcus and peer inside. chunky porn-star platforms, soaring espadrilles and killer stilettoes masquerading as office shoes defiantly stare at me from the other side of the page.

and then, they appear, impossibly high heels, shiny black crocodile leather, silver buckles, and structured calf shape that i can almost feel caressing the muscles of my own. my mouth feels dry and my pulse is racing. an unintentional moan escapes my lips. i am officially in love.

‘i told you not to look in there” the coworker says. “that’s bad for you”.

“who do i have to sleep with, to get these boots?” i croak instead of cracking the joke, trying to pull myself together. the saddest thing is i actually go through the list of posibilities before reminding myself that i am supposed to be joking. morals are one thing but those boots, ah those boots. they promise a million hungry, envious and adoring stares, miles and miles of strutting like a queen, and even some naughty dance steps in front of my bedroom mirror. i am sure my mother would understand.

“well, when you find him, pass him along, heifer!” the other coworker says, not quite sounding like she is joking either. i cover the page protectively. mine! i also think that for that price, i’d probably have to throw in a freebie to the sale assistant as well. nah, they’re either washed out models or gay citizens. most likely, more interested in my imaginary sugar daddy than me.

i get out, very glad that there is no Neiman Marcus in the Bronx, otherwise my mommy and daddy would enjoy the hospitality of Central Park for a month or so. there is only a very busy Payless in the corner of the street. i go in almost automatically, smelling the cheap leather knock-offs and trying to take my mind of my unrequited love. then i see their twin, a perfect pair of high heel black beauties, smiling at me with their crocodile faux leather , and beckoning. they could be mine for $25.99. and they become mine for $25.99.

i come out of the store with my rent money secure for another month, my smile firmly planted on my lips and my honor intact. (well almost, i am a bit disappointed that now have no more reason for sleeping with people)

God bless America.

15 thoughts on “The Boots

  1. ohhh. I hear yous sister! I was just about to post smth about shoes today but then I didn’t get around to doing it.
    It hurts me to see all those beauties everywhere and not to be able to get them just cause, as you said, I have rent to pay and I don’t have a sugar daddy!😀

    aaahh damn it!!!

  2. huh yeah wellcome to reality:( for that reason I don’t have a look at such magazines any more.I just buy photography,cinema or cooking magazines:)

  3. cizme, it is love what can i say.
    candy, eni, sisters in pain.
    leon, think about the obsession of Albanians with Benz-Mercedes and you will understand.

  4. Ah blete e forte fare:”think about the obsession of Albanians with Benz-Mercedes and you will understand”
    Tani Leon besoj se e kupton…

  5. blete,lule
    Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh common !!!
    IT just not fair to make this kind off comparison…
    How very dare of you????!!!!!!! 😦 😉
    P.s. by the way, i prefer Porsche or a red Ferrari!! They just beautiful creatures and extremely hot..😉 🙂

  6. well Leon, think of your self inside the Porsche, whatever hair you have swept by the wind, a million hungry stares enviously trying to seduce you, your hands touching the leather seats, and then the black leather boots of the hot blonde/brunette/redhead gracing the passangers side… you get the idea.
    Lule, ia beme te qarte me duket.

  7. oh man, that’s called love at first sight. i’m glad that i haven’t seen those boots because i would have been sick already due to the fact that i can’t afford buying them:( Ah, life is not fair…

  8. blete,
    “whatever hair you have swept by the wind, a million hungry stares enviously trying to seduce you, your hands touching the leather seats, and then the black leather boots of the hot blonde/brunette/redhead gracing the passangers side… you get the idea.”
    ————————————————————

    Ohhh yes, now you talking!! 🙂 🙂
    This is my definition of paradise….. I couldn’t had put it better my self!!
    Blete i promise i will bare that on my mind when i win the lottery …😉
    And i am shore you will volunteer to be “the black leather boots of the hot blonde/brunette/redhead gracing the passengers side”… 🙂 🙂 🙂
    Have a nice day, you just made my morning…. 😛 😛 😛

  9. its, since i am a lady, i can only say that i would not advise you to prance around in them unless you are prepared to do what they suggest.😉
    belle courage ma cherie, for ditet e mira pasketaj vijne. ku i dihet mbase fiton llotarine ndonjeri dhe i len ne zemer per ne.😛 deri atehere PAYLESS!!! DSW!!! LOHMANS!!! THRIFTSTORE!!!
    leon, glad to be of service. just make sure the wife does not read your comments or the fantasy will become as follows: You win the lottery, wife gets boots, porsche and yacht and you get a heel imprint on that itching backside of yours.
    have a great evening as well.

  10. My wife???? hahahahahha 🙂 😛
    Sorry to disappoint you blete, there is no wife!! 😛 😛
    Got the boot long time ago… 😉 😉
    Now apologise for trying to ruin my lottery dream… 🙂 🙂

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