The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Oh where is my head today!

The confused thought reverberated through her mind as Anna stumbled down the foyer toward the elevator. Why was she wearing this stupid pair of boots? What on earth had possessed her to accept these silly things, much less wear them home!

Everything about them was silly. The block heels alone were outrageous: if they were any higher she would need a ladder to put them on. And they had brick-thick platforms besides! She could barely walk in all that heel. What had she been thinking?

The boots had not been her idea. Anna was a sensible girl; her taste in footwear, as in everything else, was governed by practical good taste. Mr. Handelman had sent her out to meet with a wholesaler. It was he who had insisted that she try a pair of his outlandish boots.

The meeting was a big step for Anna. It was a chance to prove herself to Handelman, to show him that his faith in her was not misplaced. Though she was barely 23, Anna was the first woman in the whole department store to move up from salesperson to Assistant Buyer.

Anna was ambitious. She had worked hard for that promotion, lobbied for it, studied for it, lived for it. She was determined not to spend the rest of her life selling designer dresses to wealthy fashionistas. No, she was going to become one of those stylish, upper-class women who always walked into the store looking like a princess on a public stroll.

Without a rich husband or a family inheritance, Anna knew of only one certain way to reach that goal: she would become a Buyer for the store. Now she had finally become Assistant Buyer. She was half-way there. She even had her own office! The new job was a challenge, but Anna knew she could do it.

Advancement would probably have been easier if she had acceded to Handelman’s not-so-subtle hints and gone to bed with him. Anna wasn’t going let that barrier stop her. She was determined to succeed by intelligence and hard work, notwithstanding her horn-dog boss and his sexist ideas.

That resolve made it all the more bewildering that she had come home from her very first sales meeting looking like a total airhead in these silly boots. To make matters worse, she was feeling unaccountably spacy. Maybe it was because she was so embarrassed. It was almost like the boots were elevating her head into rarefied atmosphere.

Anna could hardly wait to get into her flat and get the boots off. Every time she tried to walk fast she lost her balance. She pushed the button for the lift.

The meeting had been entirely Mr. Handelman’s idea. He had insisted that she meet the buyer by herself. “I would go, but I have a conference call with the owners this afternoon that I can’t miss,” he explained. “This will be an opportunity for you to fly on your own for a time.”

“But, but, I’ve never met with a seller before,” Anna had protested. They were in the oak-panelled office suite behind the store. “Can’t I bring Warren, or Julianne?” She referred to the store’s two senior buyers.

“Sorry, they’re both too busy. Fall line-up is just about due. You’ll have to handle this on your own.” As always, his eyes drifted down her figure as he spoke.

“I’ve only been here a week! I won’t know what to say. You said you would let me sit in on a few meetings first!” She adjusted her well-filled pullover, trying to pull her boss’s attention away from her pert puppies.

Handelman’s tone became condescending. “Look, Anna, honey, it’s no big deal. The man is a cobbler. He makes custom boots and shoes. You say hello, you shake hands, you smile nicely, you look at his product. When he’s finished you thank him and tell him we’ll be in touch. Now if you don’t think you can handle that, maybe you aren’t ready for this job.”

That clinched it, of course. Anna agreed right then to go see the man. There was no way she was going to let Handelman think she couldn’t do it.

The gentle chime of the elevator brought Anna back from her thoughts. The doors opened and Anna’s heart sank. In the elevator was Rodney, her next door neighbour and full-time dweeb. He had been hitting on her since the day she moved in.

“Oh, hi there Anna,” he said, grinning broadly. “Hey, don’t you look sharp today.”

“Rodney,” Anna replied, standing aside to let him by. Anna was wearing a narrow, ankle-length skirt. She hoped Rodney wouldn’t notice her boots. Her hopes were dashed with his next sentence.

“Say,” he drawled, sidling by her closer than necessary, “you seem taller or something.” He looked down. “New shoes?”

“Yes. I mean, no. They’re not shoes. They’re boots. New boots.” She mentally slapped her forehead. What a witless thing to say. Anna felt like her brain was on holiday. Her toes were tingling. She stepped into the elevator.

Rodney was still admiring her heels. “Stylin’!” he enthused. “Hey hold the lift, I’m just going to get the mail.” He trotted off to the bank of post boxes. Anna jabbed a button and closed the doors. She leaned back and exhaled as the lift ascended to her floor.

The meeting with the cobbler had been peculiar. Anna found the address in an older commercial section of the city. There was a makeshift office in the front.

Anna was a little taken aback by the woman working at the little desk there. She was young, pretty, and spectacularly sexy in a tight, party-coloured microdress that advertised even the parts that it managed to cover. Her legs were bare but for a perfect tan and a pair of raspberry red pumps. The shoes had the highest piano-leg heels Anna had ever seen.

The giggly receptionist had escorted her to the cobbler’s workshop. Despite the dilapidated exterior of the building, the shop itself was bursting with modern machinery, most of it controlled by computers. Everything smelled of fine leather.

The shoemaker was a grey-haired man of indeterminate age who sported wire-rimmed glasses and faultless manners. He gave her a pitch about a new line of high-style shoes and boots he was developing for Mr. Handelman. Anna had been surprised at that—hadn’t her boss said that this was a new supplier? She didn’t have time to think about it, because the man kept handing her one shoe after another, insisting that she examine each one.

“You must feel the lines,” he said, talking like an artist describing an abstract painting. “Absorb the texture and give of the material. Smell the leather and the finish. These are shoes to make a woman feel alive.”

Anna was feeling overwhelmed. She struggled to say something kind and equivocal about each pair of gaudy footwear he handed her. Sometimes she found herself juggling three or four at once. All his shoes were wildly impractical, sometimes with elaborate straps and buckles, thick platforms or bright colours, and always with the highest of high heels. The dazzling secretary in the front office could have chosen her pair right off the shelf.

“I did!” she exclaimed, when Anna obliquely asked her about it. “I get as many as I like for free. Don’t you just love them?”

“Well, aren’t they a little—oh, yes, thank you, those are very . . nice,” Anna replied, as the cobbler handed her a pair of golden orange platform clogs.

Anna tried to explain to the man that her store would never carry his line, but she never got the chance. He kept pressing more shoes into her hands, insisting that she hold and admire each one. Anna couldn’t keep up.

The air in the shop was heady with the smells of glues and leather and shoe materials. It made her giddy. For some reason her fingers were tingling. Perhaps she was reacting to one of the oils the cobbler used to treat the leather. Finally, so confused that she was almost dizzy, Anna found herself collapsing in a plush chair, a pair of multicolored sandals in each hand, while her host dressed her in a pair of black, calf-high zip boots.

The boots were a gift. Anna tried to decline, but he brushed her aside. “Please, I insist,” he chided. “I would be honoured to have such a beautiful woman wear my boots.” He was already on one knee, slipping off her dress flats. “Here, my dear, admire the cut of these. Are they not exquisite?”

He handed her the left boot. Anna found herself taking it. She looked at it dazedly. The boot was well-made, and designed to fit tight. The shank appeared to be little more than an excuse for the enormous platform heels beneath. The whole boot was sexy, glossy black.

Anna tried to think of something to say. She wanted to object, to tell the man that she couldn’t possibly wear boots like this. She couldn’t seem to find the words. Worn out from the whirlwind tour, she felt sluggish and dull. She idly ran one finger down the curves and planes of the boot in her hand. Her finger tingled pleasantly.

While Anna was busy studying the left boot, the cobbler had already slipped the right boot on her foot. She sputtered a protest, but only watched as the zipper slid smoothly up her leg. It fit remarkably well. “May I have that, my dear?” the cobbler said, holding up his hand for the other boot.

“What? Oh. Yes, here you go.” Why was she acting so thick? She didn’t want these boots. She wasn’t supposed to accept gifts from suppliers. She opened her mouth to say something. Surprisingly, a giggle came out.

“There now, aren’t those fabulous,” the man enthused, zipping up her right boot. “Beautiful boots for a beautiful woman. What could be more appropriate.”

“Please . . . I, I don’t think—” Anna began.

“Stand up now, see how they feel,” the man said.

Anna climbed to her feet. She wobbled dangerously on the unfamiliar heels. “Whoa, I’m not sure I can wear these!”

“Of course you can,” the shoemaker said airily. “It just takes a moment to get used to them. Go ahead. Wear them home. Let them delight you. They are yours, a gift from me to you. Or rather, a tribute to your graceful beauty.”

Anna couldn’t think of a polite way to say no. It took all her concentration just to walk. Her feet were tingling now too. She let the cobbler lead her out, then stammered something noncommittal to the secretary who told her enviously how sexy she looked.

Anna was back in her car before the full realization of her foolishness hit her. “Silly!” she cried out loud. What was wrong with her today? Here was her first sales meeting and she had come across like an utter ditz.

She was too embarrassed to go back into the shop, so she resigned herself to driving home wearing the boots. Working the gas and brakes in 7-cm platforms was an adventure in itself. It didn’t help that her feet, and then her legs, were still tingling distractingly. Anna was half way home before she realized she had left her regular shoes back at the shoemaker’s.

“Oh Anna, you dumbbell,” she muttered to herself.

At length the lift deposited Anna at her floor. She closed the door to her flat and dropped her briefcase on the floor. The briefcase was brand new. All the Buyers had briefcases.

Anna made her way to the bedroom to get out of the silly boots. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the livingroom windows. She stopped in surprise.

No wonder Rodney had been staring. Even in the modest long skirt her figure looked stunning. The tall heels arched her feet, tightening the muscles of her legs and thrusting out her behind against the fabric of her skirt. Her posture compensated by arching her back, exaggerating the fullness of her already buoyant breasts. Topping it off, the platforms and chunky heels added inches to her height, making her look statuesque and lusciously leggy.

Anna was fully aware of the figure-enhancing magic of high heels, but these seemed to move a step beyond. She could barely believe how desirable she looked. She took a step forward to study how her body moved. She almost fell over again.

That settled it. These boots were coming off. She wobbled into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, she slid down the zippers and pulled off the black boots. She flexed her ankles, enjoying the freedom from confinement. She stood back up in her stocking feet.

Oddly, removing the preposterous high heels didn’t bring as much relief as she had expected. It was pleasant to be able to walk flat again, but for a moment her normal posture seemed almost unfamiliar. Perhaps her feet had already started to accommodate the heels.

Well, they would return to normal soon enough, because there was no way she was going to wear those dumb boots again. She picked them up and tossed them in the back of her closet. She would throw them out later.

Anna went to work the next day in another pair of good slip-ons. She told Mr. Handelman that the meeting with the cobbler was uneventful but his shoes weren’t appropriate for the store. She didn’t mention the boots she had been fast-talked into wearing. She saw no point in advertising her mistakes.

“Well, that’s a pity, but if you are convinced he’s not for us I’ll trust your judgement,” Handelman said. “Just give us your technical evaluation for the files.”

Anna was delighted. He trusted her judgement! “What’s a technical evaluation?” she asked. “I haven’t done one of those yet.”

“Oh, that. Just put down your notes on quality of the workmanship, choice of materials, how well they fit. In case he comes back with another style some time. There’s a form in the file.”

Anna’s delight turned instantly to panic. She didn’t have any technical notes. She had been so befuddled at the shoemaker’s shop she had forgotten to write anything down!

She couldn’t admit her mistake to Handelman. What would he think of her, fouling up her first sales meeting? She would have to fake it somehow.

Then it came to her. She still had a pair of boots! She could use those to judge the quality of the product. Breathing a sigh of relief, she left to find Julianne. She was a stylish, cool-mannered woman who tended to look down on Anna’s humble background. Nevertheless she showed the younger woman where the forms were and skimmed over how to fill them out. They didn’t look very difficult.

When lunch time came, Anna told her boss she was eating out, then dashed home to take another look at the boots she had been given. She found them where she had left them, at the back of the closet. They stood out from the other shoes and sandals like they were raised on a pedestal. “Stupid boots,” Anna muttered, bending over to retrieve them.

It was funny sometimes, how quickly names got attached to things. She had already come to think of them as her Stupid Boots, with capital letters. Swinging the boots in one hand she walked back into the livingroom, where she had left her briefcase.

She sat down on the sofa with the form spread out on the coffee table. She picked up the heavy boots and looked them over critically. They did look well made. Maybe if he came up with a more reasonable style, the store would carry the shoemaker’s product.

Anna held up one boot and examined it from the side. Just look at the heels on those things, she marvelled. At least they were solid, and attractively shaped. She flexed the boot in her hands. It felt supple and smooth. She ran her hand up and down the short shank.

On a whim, she held the boot under her nose and took a deep breath. The smells of expensive leather and rare oils caressed her nose. She took another whiff. The smell was as delightful and complex as a fine wine. For a moment she felt light-headed, like she had downed a strong drink too fast. She blinked, and giggled. “Whoa, Anna, let’s not get high on the glue!” she chided herself.

She set the boot down and made a few notes for the form. She glanced at her watch. She didn’t have much time to spare. She had a pretty good idea about materials and workmanship, but what about fit? She had been too overwhelmed by the platforms and heels to notice how well they fit the day before. She picked up the boots again, considering. The only way to check the fit would be to put them on.

Ah well, it would only be for a moment, she decided, pulling off one shoe. She slid her foot into the short boot and tugged the zipper up. She had to pull her pantleg out of the way. She could feel the heels forcing her toes down and her ankles upward.

Anna was loathe to admit it, but the boot fit well. It encased her foot without pinching or stretching. The upper part fit snugly around her calves. There even seemed to be some thick, soft padding under the toes, where most of her weight would be carried because of the ridiculous heels. Her toes sank into it, tingling.

To be thorough, she decided to try the other one too. Most people’s feet differ by a half-size, Anna knew. She had learned that sort of thing to become a Buyer.

The second boot fit as splendidly as the first. Anna turned her feet this way and that, flexing her tingling toes. Her pantleg kept getting in the way. She couldn’t keep them from slipping down over her boots, blocking her view. At last, in exasperation, she decided to take her pants off. One of the benefits of doing this at home, she reasoned.

Anna unbuckled her dress pants, then lifted her bum off the seat to slip them down her legs. That turned into a dilemma because of course the narrow-legged slacks wouldn’t slip off over the boots. After minutes of struggling, Anna had succeeded only in jamming her slacks around her ankles, shackling her legs.

Feeling foolish, she decided to back off and do it right. After several more minutes of wiggling and pulling she managed to get her pants halfway up again. Along the way she ripped the seam on one leg. It was terrifically frustrating; yet for some reason it made her laugh. Finally, she unzipped the boots, pulled them off, then pulled off her pants completely. She put the boots back on.

This still wasn’t right. She could see the boots clearly now, but she was wearing knee-high nylons underneath her pants. They looked completely wrong on her bare legs. These boots weren’t meant to be worn that way.

Anna got to her feet. She tottered for a moment until she found her balance, then made her way to the bedroom. She had to walk slowly and carefully. The tingling in her toes had moved up to her legs. It wasn’t until she got to the bedroom that she realized she could have taken the boots off for the trip. “Anna you are such a ditz today,” she told herself. She giggled again.

Still wearing her blouse from work along with the outrageous boots, Anna dug into her wardrobe until she found a pair of dark tan pantyhose. She sat down on her bed, slipped the boots off, then carefully rolled the pantyhose up her legs. Then, finally, she was able to put the boots back on the right way.

Standing again, she wobbled over to her mirror. Her eyes went wide. “Is that me?” she breathed.

She looked amazing. The simple white blouse acted like a too-short minidress, covering most of her behind but leaving her pantyhosed thighs on display up to the waist. In the filmy hose and high-heeled boots she was all leg, and all of it sensational.

For a long moment she stood there, adsorbed in her own reflection. She idly ran one hand down her thigh. The tingling in her legs had reached her crotch. Now it was very distracting.

With some difficulty she came back to the matter at hand. She had what she needed to complete the evaluation. She made her way unsteadily back to the livingroom. She found herself watching her legs scissor back and forth as she walked. The black boots curtailed the speed and length of her stride as effectively as a hobble skirt. What a funky style, she decided, sitting down again.

Filling out the form took a lot longer than she had expected. It was simple enough, but she had trouble finding the right words. She was having a slow day it seemed. Sitting there in her livingroom, half dressed and high-heeled, she felt suddenly very foolish.

I need a drink, she decided. Anna didn’t usually imbibe during the day, fearing it would interfere with her efficiency. This had been such a peculiar morning she felt an exception was warranted. She stalked into the tiny kitchen, walking a little more smoothly as she got the hang of the boots. She poured herself a Scotch on the rocks. Then she returned to the livingroom to sip her drink and fiddle with the sales form that she still hadn’t finished filling out.

Anna sat back on the sofa, drink in hand and paperwork in her lap. She lifted one leg and stretched it out on the coffee table where she could admire her sleek curves. It was impossible not to be pleased with how great her legs looked. The boots were immensely flattering, there was no denying that. As long as she didn’t have to walk in the silly things. One could wear them out at a club, she supposed.

At length the form was finished. Anna drained her glass, glancing at her watch. She sat bolt upright. It was half past one! She was already late, and she still had to get back to the office. She jumped to her feet, lost her balance, and fell back heavily. The second try was more successful.

Anna looked down at her pantyhosed legs. “Oh, land,” she cried, laughing. She had forgotten about the tear in her pants. She would have to find something else to wear, and quickly.

At that moment she realized something else. All her window shades were wide open. She was standing in her livingroom in her underwear. While her flat was on an upper floor, there were plenty of other buildings close enough to afford an unfettered view of the bodaceous blonde in blouse and boots.

Anna let out a little cry. She yanked on the bottom of her blouse, trying desperately to retrieve her lost modesty. She turned and trotted out of the room as fast as she could go. Thanks to the boots, that wasn’t fast at all. The dance of her hips as she stumbled toward the bedroom made it look like she was merely showing off. It was impossible to do anything in these boots without looking like she was showing off.

“I am such a twit!” Anna cried in frustration. She sat down heavily on her bed. “What is wrong with me today?” There was no time to dwell on it. If she didn’t get back to work soon Handelman would have a fit.

She surveyed her closet, searching for something that wouldn’t look too inappropriate with the boots. She settled on a simple blue skirt with a hem a couple of inches above the knee. She seldom wore it to work, not wanting to give her hormonal boss any unintentional signals. None of her pants were long enough for the thick platforms on her boots. She glanced in the mirror. Even in this everyday outfit she looked sexy as all get out. She gathered up her things and hurried out the door.

It occurred to Anna as she arrived back at the office, carefully negotiating the super-high heels, that she hadn’t found time for lunch. Instead she had downed a strong drink on an empty stomach. Perhaps that was why it never occurred to her that she could have taken the boots off and come back to work in her flats.

She gathered a lot of second looks as she shuffled through the office. Heads turned to watch her go by. One of the accountants seemed to notice her legs for the first time. He smiled warmly. Julianne looked at Anna’s feet, snorted dismissively and disappeared back in her office. Julianne was not at all convinced that Anna, a lowly shop clerk, had enough class to buy fashions for a high-market store. Evidently Anna’s re-appearance in miniskirt and megaboots had bolstered that opinion.

Mr. Handelman was upset too, seeing as Anna was nearly an hour late. His anger seemed to evaporate when he saw how his employee was dressed. She seldom wore any heel at all to the office.

“Look, I, I’m terribly sorry,” Anna said, when Handelman demanded where she had been. “I’m having, like, a really off day. Look, I finished the forms for the sales meeting.” She held up her briefcase as if to illustrate that point.

“Well, it’s about time,” Handelman growled. “You’re going to have to move a lot faster on the paperwork if you want to keep up.”

“Oh, I will, really!” Anna promised lamely. “I’m not usually this, like this, you know,—I mean, normally I can, like, get it.” Her voice sounded girlish even to her.

Despite his irritation, Anna’s boss was inspecting her tits again. They were pushing playfully against the fabric of her silk blouse. Anna wasn’t deliberately thrusting her chest forward, but the heels on her boots made it impossible not to. She could feel her nipples hardening inside her bra.

“Yes, well, you’re a clever girl, I’m sure you’ll catch on.” Handelman said, his mood softening. He was hardly trying to conceal his interest in her cleavage.

Anna toyed absently with the top buttons on her blouse. One of them came undone. “Oh I will, I’m sure of it, really,” she said, eager to maintain Handelman’s improving mood. “I appreciate your being so patient. I really do want to earn, like, a position under you—er, under your direction.” Oops! Had that come out sounding like double meaning?

Handelman softened further. “Hey, it’s nothing. Can’t expect you to learn everything the first day.” He chuckled slyly. “Maybe you could show your appreciation by having a drink with me some time.” He threw an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

Anna found herself unexpectedly flustered by her boss’s crude advance. Her usual glib rebuffs failed her. “Well, uhm, I don’t know, I mean, OK, maybe. . . that would be, uhm, all right.” She tittered nervously.

Handelman was momentarily taken aback, either by the change in attitude from his stacked assistant, or by the fact that another button on her blouse had accidentally come apart. He struggled to regain his composure. “Yes, well, we, we’ll talk about that later. Right now it’s time for you to learn how to do cost estimates. You can start with the fall line-up. Talk to Warren and he’ll steer you through the calculations.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Anna said, determined to make up for her fumbling morning. She extracted herself from his enfolding arm. She could almost feel his eyes on her ass as she walked away.

Anna felt a little guilty for indulging her boss’s roaming eyes like that. She would probably have to go out for drinks with him sometime too. Oh well, it had snatched her out of a tight spot. Briefcase in hand, she walked carefully over to Warren’s office. Walking in the padded boots felt like she was suspended several inches above the floor. She didn’t bother to do up the buttons on her blouse.

Anna had a difficult time learning cost estimates. Warren showed her the spreadsheet program and walked her through the procedure a couple of times. He was a short, soft-tempered man who had been a buyer for the store since miniskirts first came into style. His middle-aged eyes fixed on Anna’s legs the moment she shuffled into the office.

Anna was a quick study when it came to computers. She was confident she would get the hang of the program without difficulty. After an hour or so, she was still having trouble. There were a lot of pesky details to keep straight. She kept getting muddled.

It was soooooo frustrating. Anna felt sluggish, like her brain was a light bulb during a brown-out. She couldn’t seem to remember commands from one moment to the next. The booze for lunch had been a bad idea, she decided. She felt like she had had several drinks, not just one. She tingled all over.

Eventually Warren grew so annoyed with her lack of progress that he threw up his hands and told her to forget it. “Look, Anna, this isn’t working. Why don’t you come back tomorrow. We’ll have another go at it when you’re fresh.”

Anna panicked. She couldn’t quit now! What would Mr. Handelman think? She had to learn this program. She decided to try her feminine charms again.

“Please, Warren, don’t give up on me,” she begged, casting him her best puppy-dog eyes. “I’m working as hard as I can. Really. Can’t you go over this one more time? Please?” She uncrossed her knees and slid forward in her chair, looking at him pleadingly. Her short skirt slid a little higher up her thighs. Her legs were feminine perfection in the flashy high-heeled boots.

As she had hoped, Warren’s eyes dropped to study her nylons. He worked his lips silently for a moment. “Well, uhm, all right, if you want,” he conceded at last. “Let’s go through it one more time.”

Anna rewarded him with a bright smile. “Thanks Warren, you’re a dear. I’m sure I’ll get it this time.”

In point of fact she didn’t quite get it that time, or the next. Anna couldn’t fathom why she was feeling so dense. The spreadsheet wasn’t even especially hard. Yet it all seemed overwhelming. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton candy.

She had to sweet-talk Warren repeatedly to keep him from giving up on her. With her blouse half undone (another button had been sacrificed to placate Warren), she knew he had a ringside view of her darling dumplings in their wispy half-bra as he stood behind her, leaning over her chair to point out things on the screen. Anna decided to let him enjoy the show. He deserved it for putting up with her stupidity.

Maybe that was part of the problem. His admiring gaze on her body was hard to ignore. It was almost a physical caress. Her nipples were standing up. From time to time she crossed her knees one way or the other, refreshing Warren’s view of her legs.

Abruptly Warren decided they had done enough. Anna was finally getting the idea of how to work the spreadsheets. She promised to work on them at home that evening. “Fine, fine,” Warren said, looking flushed. “You, uhm, you work on it on your own. We’ll, uh, take this up again tomorrow.” With one last look at Anna’s splendid legs, he turned and walked stiffly out of the room.

Anna watched him go, amazed. Had she given poor Warren a hard-on? In the middle of the day? She had merely wanted to soften his mood, not harden his member. She heaved a great sigh. She had gone a lot further with her body than with her brain today, it seemed.

The elevator doors slid open and Anna stepped out. She was exhausted. Struggling with the spreadsheet all afternoon had worn her out. Her feet were sore from spending all day in the narrow platform heels. She could barely wait to disappear into her flat and get these stupid boots off.

The door to Rodney’s apartment was open. Anna tried to hurry by. Her boots did not permit hurrying. She heard a familiar voice call out, “Hey, Anna, wait up!” Her heart sank.

Rodney burbled out of his flat like an unleashed puppy. “Hi Anna!” he cried cheerfully. He drew in his breath. “Wow! Man you are looking top today!”

“Rodney, please, not right now, I’m tired,” Anna pleaded, walking on toward her door.

“Hey, no problem,” Rodney chirped. He fell in beside her. “But I couldn’t let you go without telling you how great you look. You know, you have a splendid sense of style.” His eyes, previously enamoured of the receding view, had now discovered Anna’s unbuttoned cleavage.

“That’s nice,” Anna replied. She couldn’t think of anything better.

Rodney was still prattling on as Anna reached the door of her flat. She wasn’t paying much attention. She fumbled with her keys. She wanted nothing more than to get inside so Rodney would go away. She kept forgetting which key to use. Her mind felt as thick as cold pudding.

Rodney’s monologue came around to asking her out again. Anna had heard this request many times before. “Uhm, I, I don’t, not,” she stammered, when he finally stopped talking. She found the right key and slid it into the lock. It was hard to work the latch and make conversation at the same time. She felt like she was stoned.

“Well, that’s all right,” Rodney continued, unperturbed. “We can do something simpler, maybe have coffee sometime. There’s a great little shop around the corner. What do you think?”

Anna opened the door and stepped inside. “Uhm, uh, sure, whatever,” she managed, dropping her briefcase on the floor. “We’ll have coffee . . . sometime.” She closed the door against his grin.

The curvy blonde leaned back against the door. You dimbulb! she berated herself. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage Rodney. But she couldn’t think of an excuse to turn him down. Now she would never get rid of him.

At least now she could get out of these preposterous boots. First though, she really needed a drink. She made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a stiff one, then proceeded to the bedroom, sipping as she went.

She sat down heavily on the bed. She set down her drink. She caught site of herself in the mirror. Rodney was not exaggerating: she still looked splendid.

It was funny, how those boots changed her so much. Men treated her completely differently when she wore them. She thought about Warren turning to pliable jelly, and Rodney falling all over himself around her. She felt different too. Wearing the stupid boots made her feel stupid, but in a warm, contented sort of way, like she was dropping off to sleep after making love. It was as if the overt sex-appeal of the boots urged her to abandon acting intellectual and instead let herself enjoy being sexy and feminine.

Still watching herself in the mirror, Anna lifted one leg and unzipped the black boot. She dropped it on the floor. Then she did the same for the other boot. Sighing with relief, she flexed her liberated ankles. Cool air drifted over her feet.

Again, removing the boots didn’t bring as much satisfaction as she expected. She almost missed the restriction of them, the knowing control they imposed on her ankles. She put on her favourite pair of slippers, but it didn’t help. Her stocking feet felt loose and exposed, improperly unconfined. It was as if she had gone to the opera in her pyjamas.

Anna sipped her drink. She needed to make dinner. There was no way she was going to put those boots back on. Almost stumbling in the flat slippers, she made her way back to the kitchen. The tingling in her feet faded slowly.

After dinner she made a valiant effort to finish the cost-estimate spreadsheet. She didn’t get very far. She had some wine with supper, and another drink afterward. By the time she got back to her laptop computer she was in no shape to work.

Sighing, she switched off the computer and turned on the television. She found a silly sitcom and watched for a few minutes. It caught her interest. She spent the next hour or two laughing and drinking in front of the television.

Eventually though, she realized that the shows weren’t really all that amusing. In fact, this one was rather dumb. Anna frowned. Why had she drunk so much on a weeknight? Why was she wasting time watching this nonsense instead of the news? Why wasn’t she tingling any more? She shook her head. Whatever the answers, it was clear that the evening was shot and she was going to get nothing else done. She turned off the television and went to bed.

The next day, Friday, was not a good day. Determined to re-establish her sense of decorum, Anna resolutely returned her silly boots to the closet. She wore low-heeled slip-ons and a pantsuit to work.

Not having to mince about on her toes all day was a relief. It didn’t help her work go any better. Handelman became gruff and businesslike as soon as he saw how she was dressed. He passed her over to Julianne, who showed Anna how to plan purchases and organize shipping. Julianne too was cold and formal. Apparently she was still offended by Anna’s fashion statement from the day before.

It didn’t help that Anna had a lot of trouble with purchasing. In the morning, her usual mental alertness had returned. This was a good thing because the computer programs the store used were far from intuitive. Anna was relieved that she wasn’t feeling as dimwitted as the day before.

As the day wore on though, Anna’s progress faltered. She began to feel edgy. She flexed her toes inside her shoes. Something was gnawing at her. Her feet felt sloppy and undressed. She missed the tingles. Eventually she slipped her shoes off completely. It didn’t help.

The empty feeling grew steadily worse. She became restless and inattentive. The more she tried to concentrate on the purchasing system, the more befuddled she became. She fidgeted in her seat. She made blunders.

Julianne was not a patient teacher. “You have to learn to get these orders right,” she complained, “or the store is left footing the bill for the returns. Or we could run out of stock, which is worse. So watch what you’re doing!” By mid-afternoon Anna felt like her brain was going to explode.

She popped into the washroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked as wan and unattractive as Anna felt. But wasn’t she the same as ever? Didn’t she have the same rich locks of blonde hair, the same big, deep-blue eyes, the same soft, balanced features? She arched up on her toes a few times, studying the effect. Maybe if she had worn something with a little more heel . . .

No! She cast the thought aside fiercely. She was going to concentrate and get through the day on her own steam. She didn’t need to be trussed up in a pair of silly boots to feel good about herself. Why did her thoughts keep coming back to those sexy boots?

She did wish she could generate a little more male reaction. The day before, when she had been wobbling about in those preposterous platforms, the men in the office couldn’t stop staring. She had flirted with everybody. When things got too hectic, she sweet-talked Warren, or even Mr. Handelman, to lighten up a bit. Today everybody was taking her so seriously. She lifted her heels again, feeling the muscles tighten in her legs and ass.

Anna arrived home that evening feeling pent-up and frustrated. She had driven Julianne nearly to shouting with her impenetrable dullness about learning sales. Her briefcase bulged with all the research Handelman had asked her to do on the weekend. He had made another pass at her. Anna’s glare had driven him off. Her shoes were bothering her.

And when she stepped out of the lift, Rodney was waiting for her.

“Hi Anna!” he chirped. “I was hoping I’d bump into you.” He looked her over boldly. Anna detected a flicker of disappointment when he saw her attire.

“Oh, Rodney, not now, please, I, I’ve had a hell of a day,” Anna growled, brushing by him. She stomped down the corridor to her flat.

Rodney hurried after her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Anna,” he commiserated, “I guess you’re tired then, what?”

“You could say that,” Anne retorted. She bounced up on her toes a few times, trying to flex her ankles. She had to get out of these shoes.

Rodney was undeterred. “Because I was thinking, remember we agreed to go for a coffee sometime, and I was thinking, like if you’re not too busy, there’s this neat little coffee shop right around the corner, and we could maybe pop down there for a nice relaxing chat.”

Anna arrived at her door and unlocked it quickly. “Oh, uhm, no, I’m sorry Rodney, not tonight, OK? I’m real tired.”

He was crestfallen. “Oh, well, that’s all right, you need to rest. Maybe tomorrow then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see.” She slipped into her flat and closed the door quickly.

Oh land, what a day, Anna thought. She couldn’t seem to learn anything. Her clothing felt uncomfortable. She dropped her briefcase and pulled off her shoes in disgust. There was something wrong with them: no arch support or whatever. In stocking feet she made her way to the kitchen for a drink and then to the bedroom to get changed.

Anna threw her shoes in the closet. She climbed out of her work clothes. The boots were still sitting where she had left them the night before. She found herself looking at them as she bent over to peel off her pantyhose. Her underwear was black and lacy.

She remembered how sexy the boots made her look. They were so garish—what kind of ditz would force her feet into boots like that? She had to admit they did look good on her.

On a whim, she pulled on a pair of semi-opaque, black stay-ups and stepped into the boots. Her ankles arched high upward. Her toes sank into the deep padding, tingling happily. She zipped the boots up. She felt tight leather encasing her calves.

She studied herself in the bedroom mirror. Now this was more like it! Bedecked in lacy underwear and shimmering black stockings she looked too sexy for words. The boots lifted her heels and shaped her long legs, instantly rendering her posture dainty and feminine. Ruefully, she considered that the stupid boots were a fitting reward—she had been acting like a simpleton all day. She giggled out loud at her little joke.

Anna picked up her drink and took a deep draft. The strong liquor warmed her empty stomach. She watched herself in the mirror. It had been kind of fun, the day before, to hang around her apartment in high heels and little else. She was in need of a little mindless relaxation. After dinner she had to get to work, of course. But for the moment, well, why not?

She ran a hand across her bare midriff, then down one leg. The whisky and the boots had her feeling all tingly. She toyed with the elastic top on one stocking. She looked hot. She could feel her bra pressing against her nipples. The woman in the mirror had a glassy look in her eyes.

Anna’s fingers found their way under her black panties. They discovered moisture. “Mmmmmmm,” she sighed, slipping a finger in. It felt yummy. She had had a long day. She needed more than a drink to relax her.

She pulled her hand away long enough to shuffle over to the bed and lie down. She unclipped her brassiere and tossed it aside. Her boobs jutted out proudly, the nipples at attention. With a happy sigh she began to pleasure herself, legs spread, one hand above and one below. Dinner could wait a few minutes; but first—oh land that felt good.

When the telephone rang some time later, Anna was well on her way to her second orgasm. The first one had been lovely, but like an overture to an opera, it only hinted at the wonderful music to follow. The phone rang five times before the sound fully caught her attention.

Anna groaned peevishly. She was soooo turned on! Why did the dumb phone have to ring now? Reluctantly, she freed the hand that was teasing her tits and picked up the pink telephone on her bedside table. The hand in her panties didn’t want to stop.

“Hu-huh-lo?” she panted into the receiver.

“Anna, is that you?” came a familiar voice.

“Uh, yeah, hummmm, this, this is Anna—oh, Mr. Handelman.” With great regret, the blue-eyed blonde pulled her fingers out of her pussy so she could talk to her boss. She was damp with perspiration.

“I, uhm, g-got the work you left for me. I’ll try—”

“Relax Anna, this isn’t a business call.”

“No?” Tentatively, not wanting to lose her place, she ran one finger around her wet labia. She shuddered. So hot.

“You owe me a drink, remember?” her boss said, chuckling. “You didn’t think I would pass up a date with a hottie like you, did you?”

“Oh. Uhm, yes. Uh, no. I mean—” Handelman was such a horn dog. She wondered if he had a big dick. The finger underneath her black panties slid back in again. She gasped.

“Anna, have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Unnnnh! Uhm, n-no, I, I’m good.” So fucking good. A second finger joined the fun.

“Great. Then what do you say we go out for a drink or two tomorrow night?”

It was really hard to fend off her amorous employer and pleasure herself at the same time. “Uhm, uh, wait, I’m not sure I—ohhhhh! I mean, huh, huh, I don’t—”

“Pick you up at eight?”

“Oh, all right, yes, yessss!” She was pistoning helplessly now. She imagined it was Handelman’s prick instead of her fingers. Her breathing was ragged and fast.

Handelman’s voice seemed amused. “Great,” he repeated. “Oh, Anna, there’s one more thing.”

“Unh?” The bedsprings squeaked. She was so close.

“I’d really love it if you would wear those boots you wore to work on Thursday. They look super on you.”

“OHHHHHH YESSSSSSS!” Anna came. Explosively. The orgasm ripped through her like a wildfire in a fireworks factory. Her back arched. She saw stars.

Some time later, sighing and breathing deeply, she became aware of Handelman’s voice. “Anna? Anna? Are you there? Hello?”

Anna picked up the telephone that she had dropped. “I’m here hon,” she breathed. “See you tomorrow.” She rang off. She lay back on the bed, sighing.

When Anna’s breathing had returned to normal, the acute embarrassment set in. What kind of airhead sexpot masturbates while she talks on the telephone? With her boss no less. Handelman must have known what she was doing. He must think she was utterly lewd. She heaved a great sigh. It was time to get to work on those papers.

Looking down the bed, she caught site of the platform heels still binding her feet. She turned her leg to admire the black boot. Handelman wanted her to wear them tomorrow. Out in public.

She felt herself warming at the thought. He must think I’m really stupid to wear boots like these, she reflected. Stupid and sexy. Sexy because she was stupid. Too dim to care whether the boots would even let her walk, so long as they looked good. A girl who made sexual attraction her top priority.

Anna lifted her bum to peel off her soaked panties. She felt cool air caress her pussy. It begged for more attention. She settled back into the bed, nude now but for her sleek black stockings and boots. Her fingers roamed.

Maybe work could wait for a few more minutes.

Anna slept in very late on Saturday morning. She woke from a night of pleasant, arousing dreams. It took a long hand session in the shower, and a nice hard cum, to settle her down enough for breakfast. Afterward, she dressed in a pair of pearly, rose-tinged pantyhose and her sexy boots. She would be working at home, so there was no reason not to indulge herself.

She closed the curtains for privacy. She remembering then that she had left them wide open during her evening of self-love the night before. The realization was so mortifying she couldn’t stop giggling for five minutes.

Eventually, she decided to get something done on the work Handelman had left her. She spread the papers out on the kitchen table. She had a tough time with it. She felt sluggish and lazy. It was hard to take it seriously.

Besides, her lack of clothing made her lush body exquisitely vulnerable to tactile sensations. She could feel the chair against her behind, through her pantyhose. Cool air brushed her bare boobs. Of course it was impossible not to be aware of the fabulous platform boots on her feet, nor the commanding, re-assuring way they extended her feet and tightened the curves of her legs.

After an hour or so, Anna heaved back in her chair with a sigh. She wasn’t getting anywhere. The forms were way tougher than she had expected. She was so dense today. She got up from the table and wandered into the livingroom.

She had finally figured out the key to walking in heels as tall as champagne glasses. The trick was not to force it. Let the boots shorten your stride to little mincing half-steps. Let your hips sway to keep your balance. Keep your back straight and your tits out. The net effect was to transform her stride into a slow, sexy wiggle, but it was nice to let the boots take control. They would always make her look good.

She sat down in the livingroom and switched on the television. There was nothing on but cartoons. She watched for a few minutes. She had forgotten how funny these kiddie cartoons were! It was neat to watch her titties bounce every time she laughed.

Anna spent the rest of the morning watching television and casually stroking herself through her shiny nylons. She hadn’t bothered with underwear. She stretched both feet out on the coffee table so she could admire her boots. She treated herself to another nifty orgasm.

By early afternoon Anna hadn’t gone very far on her paperwork. She decided to take a time out and go shopping. She really needed to buy something nice to wear on her date that evening. There was still lots of time to catch up on Sunday.

Anna was just touching up her make-up, a little after eight that evening, when the doorbell chimed. She tottered over to the door in her column heels to greet Mr. Handelman. His reaction was everything she hoped it would be.

He was speechless.

Anna had shopped carefully for an outfit that would complement her new boots. She wore a navy blue microdress of a velvety, stretchy material that slipped soft and smooth over her inviting curves. Most of the back was replaced by cris-crossing straps. Her stockings were black and intriguingly patterned, topped off with a band of lace at the high hem of the dress. Anna figured that the boots made her legs look so terrific there was no sense in covering them up.

“Hello there,” the devastating blonde cooed, “You’re like, right on time, Mr. Handelman.”

Her boss swept his gaze up and down Anna’s ripe curves. He swallowed hard. “Anna,” he said at last, “You—, You look, positively—I . . . Holy cow!”

Anna giggled innocently. “Is, is this OK?”

“Oh, I approve, believe me,” Handelman said. He was having difficulty taking his eyes off her legs. “So, where would you like to go?”

Anna shuffled up to him and linked his arm in hers. She shrugged dumbly, tossing her blonde hair. “I dunno,” she whispered. “You decide.”

Anna and her boss were still walking hand in hand several hours later when they arrived back at her flat. By this time though, Anna was leaning on him heavily, holding him with both arms as he gently assisted her down the corridor. " ‘snice o’ you t’ walk me home,” she said, slurring sloppily.

Her boss was being very thoughtful, Anna decided. Realizing how much difficulty she must have walking in her flashy boots, given all the booze she had put away, he was holding her up as she stumbled along. He even rested one hand on her ass to keep her steady. So considerate.

Anna hadn’t really intended to drink so much. She had got rather carried away. Mr. Handelman kept refilling her wine glass when it was only half empty, so how was she supposed to keep track? Besides, it was more fun to relax and let her date make all the decisions. She enjoyed not having to think.

By the time they decided to call it a night, Anna was flying high. She felt wild, hot and sexy. She got to her feet and instantly fell over, laughing uncontrollably. Fortunately, Handelman was there to catch her.

Now, as he half-carried her down the hallway to her flat, Anna discovered that the feel of Handelman’s body against hers was turning her on. The hand on her behind made her squirm. She breathed hotly in his ear.

They arrived at her door. “Where’s your key?” Handelman said.

“Hmmmmm?” murmured Anna. She nuzzled his cheek.

Handelman took Anna’s purse and fished out the key. He lifted her into the apartment and kicked the door closed. She started to say something, but his lips were there and suddenly they were kissing.

Anna responded instantly. She hummed deep in her throat as her arms slid around him, pulling him tight. Almost at once the hand on her bum slipped down the few centimetres to the bottom of her dress and slid up inside. It kneaded and groped, pulling aside the flimsy lace of her underwear. Anna moaned and pulled at his clothing.

They stumbled back a few feet, knocking over a lamp. “Whoopsie!” the well-liquored blonde cried. Then she lost her balance completely and pulled both of them sideways to collapse onto the arm of the sofa. Handelman ended up sprawling backwards, with the high-heeled, tipsy blonde slipping to her knees between his legs.

Anna found her face very near Handelman’s crotch. She admired the bulge she could see there. “Here, lemme help ya with that,” Handelman said, unzipping his fly.

He flushed out his member, already hardening eagerly. Anna admired it through lidded eyes. She had been thinking about cocks all weekend. Now here was a perfect specimen right in front of her.

She extended her tongue and licked him. He twitched. She leaned forward and took him in her mouth. She plunged her head forward, sucking avidly. She used her tongue and her lips as instruments of divine torture. Handelman gasped. He placed both hands on the top of her head as if to bless her, and urged her mouth forward.

Anna’s head bobbed up and down as she blew her boss. Her long blonde hair slipped out of its tresses and fell over her face. Too hot to hold back, she plunged a finger into her wet pussy and stroked in time with her lips. Handelman shouted something about a “fucking marvellous cocksucker” and rewarded her with a cascade of jism. She swallowed it all hungrily.

At length they separated, panting. He called me a marvellous cocksucker, Anna reflected. The praise made her feel special. Her boss looked down on her, kneeling between his legs, one hand still busy beneath her lurex minidress. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he ordered. “Unless you want to fuck right here.”

Anna looked up at him, her eyes glassy with lust. “You decide,” she sighed.

When Anna awoke on Sunday morning, Handelman was long gone. By the time she got up, showered, and made herself pretty, it was almost noon. When she finally sat down to have some toast and coffee, she found a note from Handelman. “Don’t forget the sales forms by Monday”, was all it said.

Anna crumpled up the note and tossed it away. She was in no mood to think about work. After a night of wild, drunken sex she was feeling slow and sated. She was wearing her new boots, of course, along with a royal-blue, patterned bodystocking she had purchased the day before. The half-moons of her breasts were perfectly outlined by the lacy material.

Anna leaned back in her chair and slid both legs onto the table. She knocked a bunch of the papers from work onto the floor. She admired the curve of her legs for a while. She ran one hand up and down her thigh. Fuck but she loved those boots.

She regarded the business forms on the floor without interest. The night before, in the midst of fabulous, furious fucking, she had come to a realization. She had been as stupid as her boots, to think she had to be a Buyer to be successful. Who wanted to work so hard? Just like walking in her sexy boots, the trick was not to force it. She had been pushing so hard to be taken seriously, which only made her grumpy and unattractive. It was far more satisfying to be simple and sexy. More fun too.

Humming contentedly, she got up from the table and wandered into the livingroom to watch cartoons.

“Hi Warren,” Anna cooed, posing in the doorway of Warren’s office. It was well after 10 on Monday morning. Anna had just arrived at work. The small office was a rat’s nest of papers and printouts, fashion mags and fabric samples. Warren looked up from his computer in surprise.

“Anna! What kept you? You should have been here at . . . at . . ah.” His voice trailed off as his eyes began reporting wonderful things to his brain. Dressed for success, Anna had coupled her silly boots with black mesh stockings and a latex-look minidress that sleeked over her abundant curves like a coat of fresh paint.

The beautiful blonde strutted into the room in her hyper-heeled platforms, enjoying the way Warren’s gaze was glued to her legs. “I’m a little late,” she said casually, “please don’t be cross. I had such a time deciding what to wear this morning.” She gave him a melting look.

Warren adjusted his glasses, still staring. “I, I see,” he said blankly. Anna’s stockings clipped directly onto the bottom of the dress, pulling them smooth and preventing the hem of the straining dress from springing up over her ass.

“Warren,” Anna said softly, taking another dainty step forward, “would you mind terribly much helping me with these cost estimates?” She indicated the sheaf of forms in one hand.

Warren tore his eyes away from Anna’s perfect thighs long enough to protest. “What? You still haven’t finished? Now wait, if you haven’t got the hang of that yet, I don’t think I have time—”

“I know,” the booted beauty interrupted gently, “you were very patient with me last week. I can be so blonde sometimes.” She stepped around his desk, seeming almost to glide in her leg-extending platforms. “That’s why I was wondering, if maybe you would do them for me?”

“What! I haven’t got time for that! Y-you will just have to figure them out for yourself.”

Anna was standing very close to him now. “Please Warren,” she husked, bending over to bring her face close to his. “It would mean so much to me. I’m too slow to get them done on time, but you’re like, a whiz. You don’t want me to lose my job, do you?”

Warren fought a losing battle to keep his eyes off Anna’s boobs, which were thrusting proudly out of her scoop-necked dress. “Well, no, of course not, but—”

“Please?” Her lips were full and red, inches from his.

“Wait, I can’t—mmmmmmph!”

She kissed him, long, slow and thorough. She stroked his face with one hand. “Please?” she whispered, when they came up for air.

Warren looked dazed. “L-leave them with me,” he said weakly.

Anna rewarded him with a dazzling smile. “Oh, thank you, thank you, so much,” she gushed, dropping the papers on his desk. “I knew I could count on you. You’re a doll, Warren.” She was already heading for the door, her stride slow and sexy.

Warren’s eyes followed the hypnotic sway of Anna’s hips beneath her burgundy micro-minidress. “My pleasure,” he sighed.

Anna was smiling as she strolled the short distance back to Mr. Handelman’s office. Those dumb cost estimates turned out to be not so hard after all. She just had to stop trying to use her brain and start using her body. She ignored the shocked look from a secretary, and blew a kiss to a leering, middle-aged accountant in his office. The boots had shown her how to enjoy being an airhead.

Anna knew her new outfit was going to be a hit before she even left home. She had passed Rodney in the hallway as she made her careful way toward the elevator. She was enjoying the slick feel of her dress against her bare behind. He was on his way to his job at a computer shop. Rodney’s eyes bugged out so far when he saw her, Anna was sure they would fall out. “Anna!” he cried. “What’s the occasion? You look so . . . so . . . good!”

“Hi Rodney,” Anna replied, smiling.

Immediately Rodney launched into a rambling, stuttering speech that constituted an adoring plea that she go out with him. Anna studied him, ignoring the torrent of words. The guy was sort of cute, once you got past the nerdiness. What he needed was a good lay.

She shut him up by placing a hand on one shoulder, stepping forward and kissing him full on the lips. Rodney stiffened as if he had received an electric shock. He made little whimpering sounds as Anna’s lips slid over his. Anna’s free hand found his crotch and began to rub gently.

Finally she let him up for air. “Will that hold you,” she whispered, “until this evening?” Her hand was still busy.

Rodney made an affirmative grunt and nodded his head vigorously.

“See you later then,” Anna said. She gave his now stiff cock a friendly squeeze before letting him go. She wiggled off toward the lift in her sexy platform boots.

Anna grinned as she remembered the feel of Rodney’s wang in her hand. He was going to be a good fuck. She passed Julianne’s office. The door was open. Julianne was sitting behind the broad table she used as a desk, staring at her computer screen. She had forgone her usual office attire in favour of a chic indigo dress that ended well above the knee. She looked dazzled.

“Oh, wow, I love your shoes!” Anna blurted. “Are those, like, new?”

Julianne looked down self-consciously. “Uh, no. Well, yes. They aren’t mine. They were a sample. From a supplier. Handelman asked me to check them out. Over the weekend. Today I was—I—Do you like them?”

Anna regarded the gaudy pink sandals on Julianne’s feet. They were open-toed, with three broad straps across the top and nothing to keep them on at the back. The wedge platform heels were as high as the heels on Anna’s boots. They would make walking a challenge. Red rhinestones set in the heel twinkled in the overhead lights.

“They’re marvellous,” Anna reassured her. “Let them delight you.”

She continued around the corner to Handelman’s office. The door was half open. Handelman was on the telephone.

“Satisfactory? Are you kidding? They’re unbelievable. Yes, everything, just like you said. I’m guessing it’s some sort of chemical mechanism, is that right? Hey, that’s fine, I don’t even want to know how they work, as long as they do. I don’t even want to know. You can call it a trade secret. Yes, I got the second samples Friday. Already have one of my buyers in a pair. She was always a chilly bitch, I’m looking forward to warming her up. What’s that? Well, yes. You bet we can do business. You can name your terms! Drop by tomorrow and we’ll talk details. Thanks.”

Anna frowned for a moment. What was Handelman on about? This didn’t sound like ordinary store business. For a moment she was almost alarmed. A chemical mechanism? For what? Julianne was a buyer. And she was wearing new shoes. Could Handelman be up to something?

He had said something about the second sample. What was the first one? Anna looked down at her new boots. Could there be more to them than she thought? A chemical mechanism—the tingles? She was tingling right now, in fact.

It felt good.

She shuffled one foot back and forth, admiring her new boots. They looked so hot. They made her feel sexy. Desirable. They set off her legs so well. She had marvellous legs. She was made to wear miniskirts. Miniskirts and boots. But—what had she been thinking about?

Anna’s toes tingled. Her concern drifted away. Whatever, she decided indifferently. It was too much trouble to worry about Handelman’s affairs. She carefully adjusted one of the silver garter clips on the bottom of her dress.

“Morning boss,” Anna sang, strolling in the door.

Handelman looked up from the work on his desk. His eyes swept up and down Anna’s perfect curves while she posed in front of him. “Well good morning, sweetmeat,” he said. “You’re looking positively edible today.”

His Assistant Buyer tittered at the crude compliment. “Is that so? Well what are you going to do about it?”

Two minutes later, Anna was sprawled face down over the desk, long blonde hair falling over her face and legs spread very wide, while her lusty boss fucked her vigorously from behind. Already Handelman’s plunging pole had her on the express elevator to heaven.

“Ah, ah, Anna, baby,” Handelman panted, holding her hips as he thrust into her, “have you finished those cost estimates I gave you?”

Anna gripped the front of the desk, pushing back against him. “Oh, Oh! Oh yes, that’s, that’s all under control. I, I ‘spect they’ll be done by noon. Oh god fuck me.” She could feel the orgasm building.

Handelman grunted with exertion. “Excellent, ex-cell-ent. Unh! L-listen, Anna baby, I, I think I have a new uh! position for you.”

Anna decided she really liked her present position. “Huh?” she gasped, breathing hard. Her wet pussy gripped Handelman’s cock like a velvet glove.

“Personal, oh man, personal assistant. To me.” He leaned over her, reaching forward to fondle her breasts through her painted-on dress.

The desk began to rock. “Wha, what do I have to do?” She was so close now.

“Anything I tell you. Do you want it? Well?”

“Oh yes!” cried Anna, “Yes, yes, YES!” Then her back arched and her body quivered as the climax shot through her.

Eventually, panting and perspiring, the office lovers separated. Handelman dropped into his chair and pulled up his pants. “Man alive you are one great fuck. Hey, I got something for you.”

Anna pulled herself more or less upright. She brushed long hair out of her eyes. She leaned against the desk, unsure of her balance in the high-heeled boots. “Something? For me?” she said blankly.

Her boss pulled open a drawer of the desk. He reached in and drew out a pair of platform sandals.

Anna gasped in delight. “For me?” she exclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Handelman said, “try them on.”

Anna let out a little squeal of excitement. The new sandals looked so . . . so silly! They were solid wedges in a leopard-print pattern, with complicated straps that wound around the ankle. The continuous heels were every centimetre as high as the fabulous boots on her feet.

Anna hoisted herself up on Handelman’s desk, delighting in the feel of the desktop against her bare ass. With her knees crossed she reached down and unzipped her boots. She slipped her feet free. Handelman watched. In her short-short dress and no underwear, she was giving her boss a ringside view of stocking-clad legs right up to the pink lips of her pussy.

Anna didn’t care. She just wanted to imprison her feet in some outrageous high heels again so she could look sexy and have men desire her and not have to think at all. She picked up one sandal and slipped her foot into it. The heels bent her toes down until her foot was nearly vertical. It felt so right. So sexy. Her nipples were standing up.

She had some trouble with the straps. They were hard to keep straight long enough to do up the buckles. She set one high-heeled foot on the arm of Handelman’s chair.

“Will you help me with these, darling?” the dazzling blonde cooed.

“I’m sooooo stupid today.”