The tall, willowy figure of the girl moved towards the mirror, aping the walk and mannerisms of a fashion model on a catwalk. She was, however, simply dressed and the most noticeable thing about her was the remarkable height of the heels of the black patent leather shoes she wore. Five inches at least. Difficult to walk in, but the girl seemed to have mastered the art. She smiled at herself in the mirror, turned with a swirl of her skirt, then walked back up the room.
She repeated her performance.
The room was small, with a bare wooden floor, and was used as a store. High-heeled shoes were lined up on one side — some up on shelves — whilst on the opposite were rows of boots, some calf-length, some thigh-length. Practically all of them had exceptionally high heels.
‘Yes… very nice…’ she murmured to herself. Then she sat down, took off the shoes and replaced them with a similar pair of red leather. She got up and did her fashion walk again. ‘Even better,’ she said.
As long as she could remember, Nancy Wade had adored shoes. Even as a child she had been far more interested when her mother bought her shoes rather than clothes. Growing up, she would frequently window shop in all the shoe stores in the High Street. Going up to London was a special treat, for there were so many shoe shops there. Nancy scrimped and saved during her early teens to buy herself expensive shoes; shoes that were far too adult for her age. Her mother often reprimanded her about the height of her heels. ‘They make you look tarty,’ she would say. So Nancy often had to wear them in secret.
It was very understandable, then, when she left school at 16, she took a job in a local shoe shop. Right from the start, she loved her job, enjoying the feel and smell of leather, delighting in the look of some of the specialist items she sometimes sold. In quite a short time, she graduated from her home town to a bigger shop in London. Here the shoes were far more fashionable, some were quite outrageous. Nancy loved these best of all. By the time she was 18, the store were very pleased with Nancy’s progress and made her Assistant Manageress. Despite this, Nancy didn’t stay.
She was tempted by Mr Myros.
This middle-aged gentleman, whom she thought was either Greek or Cypriot, sold nothing but specialist hand-made shoes and boots. The kind which fascinated Nancy so. Possibly Mr Myros sensed her intense interest and that was why he employed her as a general assistant. She did all manner of things, from welcoming and showing customers around the small shop (and sometimes the large workshop) to invoicing, packing and similar humble jobs. Nancy was perfectly happy. The ambience of the place suited her perfectly.
Beyond that, she had, one day, discovered a spare key to this small back store room and made use of it whenever Mr Myros was away on business trips. Sometimes she even went there at weekends, when the place was officially closed. It was sheer delight to be alone in the place, knowing she could try on as many of the shoes and boots as she wished. This was one of those illicit occasions.
Nancy took off the red shoes and put on a pair of calf-length boots. These were of the lace-up kind and many people would have found it rather irksome to do them up. Not Nancy. She liked lacing. When all was finished, she strutted up and down on the spiky stiletto heels.
‘Very sexy,’ she nodded to herself.
Once she had asked Mr Myros what sort of customer bought such boots, for one rarely saw them worn in the street. ‘Naughty ladies,’ he had replied — and winked. ‘Some of their clients get very excited when they wear things like that.’ He had paused. ‘Some even like to be walked on by a lady wearing them.’
Nancy had been vaguely disturbed by this revelation, but it did not lessen her fascination in any way. It was a pity Donald — her main boyfriend — didn’t seem to share her interest in shoes. Or her clothes, for that matter. All he seemed to want to do was get them off! Men were so greedy about sex. They gobbled at it whereas they should take their time and consider the trimmings to such a delicious meal.
Bending down, Nancy pulled her dress up over her head. Underneath, she wore a lacy bra and briefs, a suspender belt and stockings.
‘Very, very sexy, indeed,’ she said, as she continued to walk up and down. I really must try and find a boyfriend who would enjoy seeing me like this, she thought.
In course of time, the calf-length boots came off… and a pair of thigh-length boots were pulled on and zipped up. Nancy loved these best of all and she gazed dreamily at herself for a long time. Often she was tempted to carry off such a pair of shoes at these weekends because Mr Myros seemed rather absent-minded and careless about stocktaking. His whole life seemed to be bound up in the actual making of these wares. However, Nancy had never quite dared. Not yet, anyway.
All the same, she did have a slight guilty conscience as far as Mr Myros was concerned. He had been very kind to her but she could not stop herself from making a little money on the side. She learnt how to fiddle the petty cash and occasionally pocketed the notes when someone paid in that way. She reckoned, on an average, she was knocking up something like an extra £25 a week. Tax free. These kinds of boots and shoes were very expensive so Mr Myros must be making a small fortune, she told herself. He’d never miss a few quid. It was with that thought that Nancy salved her conscience.
The black boots came off and Nancy now selected a second pair — ones with even higher heels. Six inches plus, she reckoned. However, before putting these on, Nancy removed bra, panties and suspender belt. Thus, in a kind of finale, Nance paraded up and down that little room stark naked. But for the boots, of course.
It made her feel very naughty; and randy. And she kept posing in front of the mirror in positively lewd positions… which turned her on even more.
Soon, she was feeling even naughtier…
At the end of her ‘session’ that weekend, Nancy could resist temptation no longer. She stole a pair of thigh-length boots. Nothing too spectacular but, she reckoned, they must have been worth all of £250.
Happily, in the weeks ahead — and sometimes at weekends — Nancy continued with her pilfering and her parading. The only black spot was that she had tried out those boots on Donald and all he had said was that they made her look rather ridiculous. Nancy was naturally furious and they had a blazing row. She was more than ever determined to find a boyfriend who admired boots. High heels, anyway.
Armed with her duplicate key, she made her way to the shop one Saturday afternoon. She had decided to remove a second pair of boots; calf-length ones this time. But, first, she would spend an hour or so ‘trying on.’ There seemed to be some new stock, she noticed, she was a little surprised as Mr Myros had been away most of the week.
Nancy went through her customary routine. First parading in her dress, then in her underwear, finally naked. She was bending down, with her bare bottom towards the mirror, looking between her legs when, to her utter horror, she saw the door at the far end of the room opening. She jerked up with a cry. There stood Mr Myros, smiling faintly.
‘Very pretty,’ he said, closing and locking the door behind him.
‘Go away!’ shrieked Nancy trying to cover her nudity. ‘You… you can’t come in here… go away… go away!’
‘I don’t see why I can’t come in here,’ said Mr Myros, almost sweetly. ‘It’s my property. It is you who are trespassing, my dear young lady.’
Nancy rushed across the room, breasts and bottom bouncing, seized her dress and covered herself as best she could. ‘You… you’re no… no gentleman…’ she half panted, eyes wide with shock. Oh, God, this was terrible! Yet he seemed so calm about it all. He was even sitting down on a chair, as if he intended to stay indefinitely. Oh what was she going to do? What a right mess she was in!
‘Don’t let me stop you enjoying yourself, Nancy.’ said Mr Myros. ‘No, you are quite right, I am not a gentleman. Not one of your English gentlemen, anyway. Just a foreigner.’ He grinned slightly. ‘And some of us foreigners have funny ways.’
Nancy was getting over the shock but was now becoming frightened. There she was, naked, locked in a room with a middle-aged foreigner. Anything could happen! Worst of all, it was all her own fault.
‘Please… go… Mr Myros,’ she said pleadingly. ‘And I’ll get dressed.’
‘I’ve no intention of going,’ said Mr Myros firmly.
‘You can’t stay here… it’s not right!’
He smiled again. ‘Many things in this world are not right, Nancy. Like stealing my cash. Not to mention a pair of very expensive boots.’
Nancy felt herself going scarlet and the hair on the nape of her neck bristling. So he knew! Somehow he had found out. So he wasn’t so absent-minded or careless as he appeared. Oh dear God, this made things even worse!
‘I know all about your little visits to this room, Nancy,’ he went on. ‘And I didn’t mind them, really. You might have asked, though…’
‘I’m sorry… oh I’m sorry, Mr Myros!’
‘I expect you are,’ he nodded. ‘What I do mind, though, is thieving.’
‘I’ll pay it all back! Really…’ Mr Myros raised a silencing hand.
‘It’s not the money, it’s the principle,’ he said. ‘I feel hurt. I trusted you.’ Nancy felt even sorrier. She had been a bit of a bitch.
‘I suppose you want me to leave,’ she said weakly.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. As I say, some of us foreigners have funny ways. Walk up and down again, Nancy like you were doing. Yes… perhaps we can come to some arrangement. If you would like to keep your job.’
‘Oh I would… I would!’ Nancy found herself going hot and cold. She had got the message immediately. If she displayed herself to this lecherous old man, he’d let her stay. If not, the sack. And maybe more than that. She’d have to make herself do it. She summoned her will comforted by the thought that no one else would ever know. Just the two of them.
‘In that case,’ Mr Myros was saying, ‘for the next half hour or so, Nancy, you will do exactly as I say. Start walking.’
Biting her lips, Nancy dropped the dress and began to walk back and forth towards the mirror, then away from it. She kept her head high, aware of the high colour of her cheeks. Aware too of the constant quivering of the flesh of her breasts and bottom. Just pretend he’s not here, she kept on saying to herself. Just pretend it’s like it always was. But, nevertheless, Nancy was always conscious of a pair of eyes gloatingly hot upon her.
‘Lovely boots, aren’t they?’ said Mr Myros after quite some time. ‘I must say, you look very good in them.’
Nancy made no response but, oddly, felt rather pleased by the compliment. Here, at least, was a man who appreciated boots. Pity he was so ancient. Not to mention, rather off-putting.
‘Try another pair on, Nancy. Calf length, this time.’
She sat down, feeling hot all over but shivering a little. I’ve got to go through with this, she kept telling herself. It was difficult to remove the boots and put a new pair on without showing far too much of her intimate parts, but there was nothing she could do about it. Mr Myros gazed at her incessantly.
Then she was walking up and down again. How long is he going to keep this up, she wondered? What a dirty old man he was. Must be all of 50 — and she only 18. Still, as she was aware, there were lots of men like that.
‘When I came in, you were bending over,’ he said. ‘Do that again.’
Nancy felt hotter than ever; slightly sick, too. ‘M-must I?’ she quavered.
‘I’m afraid so, Nancy. You do want to keep your job, don’t you? Not… not that way. Face the mirror, then bend. Bend and touch your toes.’
Oh the humiliation of it! The abysmal shame. Yet, somehow she made herself do it, realising just how immodestly she was exposing herself.
Then, suddenly, she knew Mr Myros was standing right behind her. ‘Nancy,’ he said, ‘you will remain bending like that while I smack your bottom…’
‘What!’ Nancy jerked erect.
‘You heard me. It is your punishment for thieving. Better than coming up in court, isn’t it?’
God, he was right about that! If that happened, she’d never get this kind of job again. Think of the disgrace!
‘P-please… you sh-shouldn’t…. really…’ she whimpered. ‘I…I’m 18 now…’
‘Is that so? I guessed as much. Come along, bend over Nancy.’
Reluctantly, Nancy bent again, now clenching her teeth. Then the slaps began, first on one taut cheek, then on the other. Not too hard but stinging and burning all the same.
‘You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?’
‘Y-yes… ahh… yes… I… I suppose so… ahhh… ohh… that’s enough… please… enough…’
But the slaps only seemed to come harder, making her jerk up. Harder, harder, harder still. Then he’d got a grip on her, forcing her down. Smacking and smacking and smacking. She was yelling. Struggling. But he was surprisingly strong.
By the time he had stopped, her bottom was glowing fiercely and she was sobbing like a kid. When she finally looked up, Mr Myros was seated again, looking as cool as a cucumber.
‘You can put your clothes on again, Nancy,’ he said kindly. ‘And we’ll forget all about your little peccadillos.’ Relief flooded her. Thank God that was all over. As fast as she could, she made herself look respectable. Her cheeks continued to glow, but not as painfully as her bottom.
‘So… I’ve still got my job?’
‘Oh yes, Nancy. I may not be a gentleman, but I am a man of my word.’
‘Thanks, Mr Myros, you know how much I enjoy the work.’
‘That I do.’ he smiled. ‘But no more thieving, please.’
‘No… no… of course not.’
‘If you work well, I’ll give you a pair of boots from time to time.’
‘Oh thank you, Mr Myros!’ Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad old stick.
‘And you can go on using this room. For your little personal parades, I mean.’ Nancy felt rather embarrassed, but mumbled her thanks all the same. Once a secret was out, it was out. ‘Of course, I may look in from time to time. Just occasionally, you understand?’
Nancy understood all too well. So that was the arrangement. Well, she supposed she’d have to put up with it. Not all that bad really. At least he was an admirer. Nancy nodded. ‘OK,’ she said.
Mr Myros smiled contentedly. ‘No one else will ever know,’ he repeated. ‘Just the two of us.’