"Excuse me. could you tell me where the mushrooms are? I can't seem to find them."
"There just over there," indicates the produce manager, a tall, handsome, young man.
"Thanks a lot."
"I really like your shoes."
"Pardon me?"
"I like your shoes. Where did you get them?" he asks.
The question takes me by surprise. "Uh, they're from Benneton," I stammer.
"Oh. Were they expensive?"
Why is he so interested in my shoes? They're not even that nice. Green suede, lace-ups, something like a running shoe.
"Um. No. In fact they were cheap. I got them on sale."
"I think my mother would like shoes like that. It's her birthday soon. Maybe I'll get her a pair."
Inner sigh of relief! Thank goodness it's nothing kinky! He's only interested in my shoes because it's his mother's birthday. But then he asks, "What are they like on the inside?"
"Pardon?"
"On the inside. Are they cushy? What's the insole like? My mom has bad feet so she needs cushioned shoes."
"They're, uh, pretty comfortable."
"Do you think I could have a look at one? I'd like to see the insole. Just for a minute."
"Um, uh...well, uh...I guess so."
I find myself removing, very reluctantly, the coveted shoe. He raises it appreciatively to his smiling face, rotates it slowly to better appreciate its form, closes his eyes, draws the shoe slightly closer to his nose, and then to my amazement, inhales deeply. A look of ecstasy suffuses his flushed face. His eyes open slowly, a film has softened the irises. He is in another place, not of this world anymore. The experience has transported him, transformed him, removed him from his mundane world to a different realm.
"Excuse me. Excuse me! Uh, could I have my shoe, please?" My voice brings him back to the land of the living.
"Wha...oh, oh, yes. Thank you," he chokes, almost throwing the shoe at me. "I'm sure my mother would love them. I hope they still carry them because they're exactly what she needs!"
I quickly force my foot inside and I'm out of there faster than you can say 'Blue Suede Shoes'!
Months go by. The incident has receded from memory. I need butter and milk. The supermarket. Not the one I usually frequent, but close to my place of work. Butter! There it is.
A presence....hovering over my shoulder. I turn. It's HIM! My instinct is to flee.
"Hi! Remember me? I liked your shoes? Well, I bought them for my girlfriend and she really loved them!"
"You bought them for your g..girlfriend?"
"Yeah, remember I told you she had bad feet? Well, I bought her the same kind of shoes!"
"Oh, that's good. Well, I have to go now. I'm in a hurry. Bye."
"Hey, before you go, those shoes you're wearing are really great! What's the insole like?"
"There just over there," indicates the produce manager, a tall, handsome, young man.
"Thanks a lot."
"I really like your shoes."
"Pardon me?"
"I like your shoes. Where did you get them?" he asks.
The question takes me by surprise. "Uh, they're from Benneton," I stammer.
"Oh. Were they expensive?"
Why is he so interested in my shoes? They're not even that nice. Green suede, lace-ups, something like a running shoe.
"Um. No. In fact they were cheap. I got them on sale."
"I think my mother would like shoes like that. It's her birthday soon. Maybe I'll get her a pair."
Inner sigh of relief! Thank goodness it's nothing kinky! He's only interested in my shoes because it's his mother's birthday. But then he asks, "What are they like on the inside?"
"Pardon?"
"On the inside. Are they cushy? What's the insole like? My mom has bad feet so she needs cushioned shoes."
"They're, uh, pretty comfortable."
"Do you think I could have a look at one? I'd like to see the insole. Just for a minute."
"Um, uh...well, uh...I guess so."
I find myself removing, very reluctantly, the coveted shoe. He raises it appreciatively to his smiling face, rotates it slowly to better appreciate its form, closes his eyes, draws the shoe slightly closer to his nose, and then to my amazement, inhales deeply. A look of ecstasy suffuses his flushed face. His eyes open slowly, a film has softened the irises. He is in another place, not of this world anymore. The experience has transported him, transformed him, removed him from his mundane world to a different realm.
"Excuse me. Excuse me! Uh, could I have my shoe, please?" My voice brings him back to the land of the living.
"Wha...oh, oh, yes. Thank you," he chokes, almost throwing the shoe at me. "I'm sure my mother would love them. I hope they still carry them because they're exactly what she needs!"
I quickly force my foot inside and I'm out of there faster than you can say 'Blue Suede Shoes'!
Months go by. The incident has receded from memory. I need butter and milk. The supermarket. Not the one I usually frequent, but close to my place of work. Butter! There it is.
A presence....hovering over my shoulder. I turn. It's HIM! My instinct is to flee.
"Hi! Remember me? I liked your shoes? Well, I bought them for my girlfriend and she really loved them!"
"You bought them for your g..girlfriend?"
"Yeah, remember I told you she had bad feet? Well, I bought her the same kind of shoes!"
"Oh, that's good. Well, I have to go now. I'm in a hurry. Bye."
"Hey, before you go, those shoes you're wearing are really great! What's the insole like?"
