19: A Visit
My wristwatch struck 10.00 as I buttoned the cuffs on my sleeves. I breathed a sigh of boredom – it’s going to be a long day – I said to myself.
Spring was here, and college life continued. Now sophomores, Nick and I rented a loft in downtown New York – some 20 minutes away from campus by taxi. I was lucky enough to get a part time job, working in the shoes and footwear department of the newly opened Gucci store by 5th Avenue. Nick had his freelance photography thingy.
dea
I was jealous of his more laid-back schedule compared to mine. The deal with my manager was for me to come in when I had no classes, or when they ended. Today was one of those days when it was the former, meaning I had a full shift from ten in the morning, to seven in the evening.
Hearing my sigh, my manager who was standing beside me, having done the morning brief to the staff, gave me an encouraging slap on the back.
“Come on Chuck! Stay lively!” he said.
Mr. Woods was a good man, stern but steady. I was lucky enough that he was willing to hire a still-studying student, and I repaid that kindness by making sure I did right by him. He valued my help, and often joked how I was a lazy yet hardworking employee. My sighs were not uncommon, but he knew it was just me being me.
“Sir, yes sir!” I replied, upright and more motivated.
“That’s the spirit! Think positive thoughts!” He chuckled, as he walked away leaving the floor to me.
Oh, but I was.
The night before, Nick had received a phone call from home. I was on the couch, going through my last lesson on Theoretical Physics while hearing snippets of the conversation.
“Oh. Uh-huh. Okay. Really? Ah, I see. Okay. Tomorrow? Okay, cool. Alright – see ya, bye!” Nick hung up.
My eyes were still on the papers when Nick said “Dad’s got a business meeting somewhere in Madison tomorrow.”
“Oh, cool. He’s coming up to NYC tomorrow?” I asked nonchalantly, still trying to absorb some of the words on the page.
“Yeah” Nick said simply. “Mum’s coming too, that was her on the phone.” He added, as he walked over to his desk on the opposite end of the loft.
My eyes stopped reading – Mrs. K was coming?
“You gonna meet up tomorrow? You’ve got class at 4.” I asked, my eyes peering over as Nick sat down and continued his work on his laptop.
“Yeah. Sometime two-ish tomorrow, for lunch. After, I’ll take the cab while dad drops mum off at 5th. Told mum you’ll be there, she might pop by and say hi.” Nick answered, then got lost in his work.
My eyes glinted a little – I could see Mrs. K?
The thought of possibly seeing my favorite lady made my day (or night, didn’t matter). It had been many months since I last saw her back in hometown. The news made me miss home, miss my own parents, but at least I might get to see Mrs. K! I carried the thought as I forced my eyes back down, trying to focus – It was pointless.
***
It was a slow morning in the store, especially on the second floor where my department was. I had a few clients (Some pretty ones, perks of the job), but that was about it. I had a quick lunch break, then headed back and did some cataloguing in the store, occasionally peering out to see if there were any customers (or Mrs. K).
Evening came, and I was alone on the floor as my co-worker went out for her break, whilst I made minor arrangements to our shoe displays. I had a tap on my shoulder and an inquiring voice asked “Um, excuse me?”
Startled a little, I righted myself and turned to address my customer -- only to come face to face with none other than Mrs. K who stood there chuckling, my face showing that I did not expect that the customer was her, she had disguised her voice perfectly.
“How you doing, Chuck?” she said, her body embracing me in a hug as I quickly recomposed myself. I hugged back.
“Golly Mrs. K, you got me there!” I said, grinning embarrassingly. She was always the trickster.
“Didn’t Nick mention I might pop by?”
Mrs. K righted her handbag that slung off her shoulder. She was wearing a collared sleeveless blouse, the color nearly identical to her beige handbag (coincidentally, Gucci as well), only paler. She had her hair cut slightly short this time and had it in a perm; the curls touching her bare shoulders and fell about the handbag’s sling.
“Well… yeah.” I said admittedly, “But still-“
“I still got you!” she cut in, chuckling at me. I just grinned.
We beamed at each other for several seconds.
“Well-“ I said, waving my hand around the store. “Might I help you, Madam?” I said in mock tone.
“Why, yes.” She said poshly, in playful return.
I gave her a little tour around the entire collection; some 12 shelves, 72 rows, 10 racks, and a total of over 372 pairs of flats, pumps, wedges, heels, boots, and loafers. She occasionally picked up a pair to admire as we chatted a little, in fear my manager might come around and catch me slacking (or my occasional flirting with the pretty customers), but he was probably absorbed with the handbags and apparels downstairs.
Mrs. K liked a number of the designs, sometimes asking me about them. I’d tell her the little details about it, the art and style, the design and finishings – which impressed her (and also why Mr. Woods valued me). I told her she could try on a few, and Mrs. K obliged, picking a couple of her favorites from the displays.
“Would you… help me, try them on?” Mrs. K asked, her eyes cast at me. I spotted a slight knowing smile at the corner of her mouth. My throat got caught a little, I cleared it.
“Of- *ahem* Of course, it would be my pleasure” I said, as I waved her to be seated.
I brought her towards a more secluded section of the department and motioned to the Ivory padded leather chair, with an identically fashioned stool in front of it– the department spared no expense in ensuring comfort. Mrs. K lowered her handbag beside her and sat herself down, resting her hands on the low armrests, looking up expectantly at me.
“Make yourself comfortable Mrs. K, I’m just gonna pop in the back real quick and get your size.” I told her.
“Oh, alright. I’m
sure you know my size.” She said, in low tone. Her eyes had a glint of amusement.
As she said that, she slowly raised her right leg and crossed it over her left. My eyes followed the motion. Mrs. K was wearing a dark red, close to maroon straight-skirt with a single kick-pleat. The dark color of the skirt contrasted and emphasized the smooth, fair skin of her legs. My eyes then traveled further down to her petite, size seven (US) feet. On them, Mrs. K sported white, short slingback pumps – she wasn’t one for very high heels. My eyes still transfixed, she reached towards her right foot, the one that was raised, and loosened the ankle strap by her heel. The pump slid partially off her foot, and dangled off the end. She slowly waved it back and forth, casting her eyes back at me.
“Don’t take too long now.” She said, her eyes still seizing mine. I was still amazed at the power this woman had when she wanted it -- but usually shifted when my hands came into play.
I managed a nod, then spun around and quickly disappeared into the back. I didn’t plan on spending a minute longer than necessary. Several moments later I emerged again, this time with her selections according to size. Mrs. K smiled as I approached her, but my eyes were caught by her still half bare foot, the shoe still dangling off her toes. Laying down her selections – three in total, I brought the footstool closer to her crossed legs and situated myself, in kneeling fashion – in front
“Allow me.” I said, in the usual courtesy voice I used with all my customers as I looked up into Mrs. K’s bemused eyes. Her lips curled slightly in that pretty smile of hers, and she gave the slightest of nods.
Gazing back down, I reached forward and gently took her raised foot in one hand, held it by her heel and brought it closer to me, hovering above the low footstool. With my other hand, I grasped the dangling footwear and slowly slid it off her toes. While doing so however, I raised my thumb so that it grazed the soft flesh of her foot.
“Ooh! Eehee!” the first of her girlish giggles escaped her mouth. Her toes twitched slightly in reflex. I looked up and grinned at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that tickle?” I teased, placing the shoe down and her now bare foot onto the footstool.
“A little” she replied, her smiling eyes reflecting my tease.
She then extended her other foot towards me, that I may remove the remaining shoe. Unlike the other, I had to undo the strap myself. I gently held it up from underneath with one hand, while my other reached around the back of her heel to undo the belt strap. Whilst unbuckling however, I used my fingernails and lightly scratched the back of her heel.
“Ooeeheehee- that t-tickles!” Mrs. K giggled sweetly, but kept her foot in place long enough for me to undo the strap and slide it off her foot.
I placed her remaining foot – now also bare, onto the stool. I then quickly looked around the store to see if I had missed anyone arriving to the department, or if Mrs. K’s soft giggling had attracted anyone; there was none. What I had boredom in previously, I now thanked God for the slow day. My eyes quickly looked to the clock hanging on the far side wall and made a mental note, it’ll still be awhile before my colleague’s break ends.
“Hey, it’s rude to look away from your customers like that.” Mrs. K said suddenly, drawing my attention back. She had her sly smile on her lips.
“Ah, my apologies, Madam.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Which pair would you like to
try on first?” I asked, keeping up the pretense.
The three selections that Mrs. K had chosen each had a unique characteristic. In no particular order, the first was a pair of purple velvet stilettos that were not in any way significant aside that it had soft rubber tips on its heels. The second was a pair of beige flats that had a decoration of plumes (feathers) on the top area of the shoe (also known as the ‘vamp’). The third was a pair of iconic brown cowboy (or cowgirl) boots fashioned from soft leather, what made it special were the spurs (those spiky rings) made from rubberized polymer attached to the heels.
Mrs. K knew what I meant when I said “
try”. She picked the second selection, the flats with the plumes. Picking up one side of the pair, I held it in plain view as Mrs. K watched me as I gently plucked a plume out from the vamp. Holding the plume up, I inspected it. It was a small red feather just about the same length as my palm; its bristles were soft yet stiff enough to stroke the human skin.
Mrs. K let out a nervous giggle as I slowly brought it closer to her right foot, the bare sole facing directly towards me, her toes wriggled slightly in anticipation. I started, by gently stroking the underside of her toes; starting from the big toe, sliding over to her long toe, soft strokes under the middle one, continuing to her ring toe, and ending with the pinky. All the while, Mrs. K giggled softly as I worked the feather.
“Ooeeheehee! Oh, heeheehee! Teeheehee”
At one point as I glided the plume under her pinky toe, her giggles broke slightly.
“Heeheehee- Ah! Haahaeheehee” she brought her hand and covered her mouth in fear that her small outburst was too loud, her other hand clutching the armrest.
I stopped, peered above the racks and quickly did another take across the department floor, again nobody – only faint muffled noises from downstairs. Checking the clock again, three minutes had passed. I glanced at Mrs. K as her remaining giggles faded. She looked up expectantly at me, then motioned her eyes towards her foot again, wriggling her toes in beckon – she was enjoying this.
Kneeling back down, I held her foot behind the ankle, then placed the feather in between her ring and pinky toe. Catching her gaze again, Mrs. K bit her lip slightly; as I slowly dragged the feather, sliding it in between the inner-sides of her toes – this time working my way up to the biggest. She lasted all of three seconds.
“Nnnheeheehee- Oh noeheehee! Mpfheehee-“ she had to cover her mouth again.
My ears thrilled at the sounds of her girlish giggles, but were also on the lookout for other sounds that might indicate someone coming to the floor. Nevertheless, Mrs. K’s beautiful teeth flashed in between bouts where she had to cover her mouth and where she giggled freely, as the soft bristles stroked and glided over, under, and in-between her digits. She wriggled them freely, but kept her foot relatively in place within my hold as I tickled her like that for about another three minutes or so.
My ears hearing nothing out of the ordinary (aside from the giggles of this marvelous woman), I then moved the feather to her arches. Mrs. K’s foot immediately kicked into another gear, and I had to apply a little pressure in keeping her foot still. Her other hand that was clutching the armrest now joined in, in covering her mouth trying to stifle her giggles. I really wanted to make her laugh in earnest, and hear that angelic laughter, but I knew where I was and settled for this chance anyways.
I realized I was probably tickling her a tad bit too hard given the place we were in, and she really tried to keep her foot – and giggles, in check. I soften the tickling a little and after ten minutes in total had passed of me tickling her right foot, I stopped and let her catch her breath.
“Oh gosh, heeheehee oh teeheehee!”
I smiled at her as I watched her slowly recover, unconsciously twirling the feather in between my thumb and finger behind my back.
“You alright, Mrs. K?” I asked once I saw her pretty much recovered.
“Oh dear me, it’s hard trying to keep myself quiet with you tickling me like that!” she said, that sly smile on her lips again.
“Well, that’s one down.” I said, referring to her right foot. “Would you like to
try the same on the other?” my eyes motioning to her left.
Mrs. K took a moment, then shook her head. She nodded towards her next selection – the cowgirl boots.
“You sure?” I asked, with an eyebrow raised. But I already knew the answer.
She merely nodded yes, dropped her right foot to the floor and wriggled the toes on her left -- I accepted the invitation gladly.
“Alrighty then.” I said, dropping the feather and picking up a boot.
I scooted over beside her left leg and knelt there, my back facing her. I took her foot by the ankle and put it into a hammerlock hold under my arm; she wriggled her toes slightly, not being able to see them with me in between her view. I turned the boot around on its heel, and held it by the out vamps (or by the sides, if you will). I slowly brought the spur-end into contact with her vulnerable, open sole -- immobile and locked within my grasp.
As the barbs (sounds sharp, but they were just hard rubbers) poked into the underside of her heel, Mrs. K let out a squeal – which she quickly muffled with her hands, and began giggling helplessly into them. I rolled the spurs gently across her smooth sensitive soles, the hard rubbers digging in softly into her skin. She tossed her foot from side to side amidst her muffled giggling, but I kept rolling on, from the bottom of her heel, across her arches, the balls of her foot, and back down again.
“Mpfh! Mheeheehe! Ah! Eeeheehee!”
Mrs. K’s eyes were closed, her body quivered a little from having to restrain herself from going full-on laughter. Her head occasionally tossed from side to side as the rollers made the transition from heel, to arch, to ball. I gleefully rolled the spurs sideways, up and down, and sometimes zig-zagging across her milky skin.
“Gucci Gucci Coo” I cooed softly, teasing her and making it worse.
“Ohgosh! Heeheehee! Ooooeeheehee Mpfheehee-” she burst, catching the pun I made and also the psychological inducement that those words made it tickle more. I chuckled, then realized I had tickled her like that for nearly five torturous minutes.
I slowed the tickling down to gentle rolls, the barbs no longer digging into her flesh as much, which calmed her giggles down. Another minute and I came to a stop. Mrs. K’s chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath again, involuntary giggles escaped her lips occasionally. Several moments passed, and her breathing eventually returned to normal. We stared at each other for a while.
“Ohmygosh- phew! Haa..” Mrs. K breathed.
“As always, that was fun!” I beamed at her. She merely grinned that sly grin of hers, and straightened her hair that fell about during her tossing.
The boot still in my hand, I took my finger and spun the spur around once before placing it back down beside its pair. Mrs. K’s left foot was still on the footstool, and from the corner of my eye I spied the last pair in Mrs. K’s selection, the stilettos.
“What about these, Mrs. K?” I asked, as I picked up one side and held it up.
Just as Mrs. K was about to give her reply, my ears picked up the sound of what sounded like footsteps. Light, sharp, as if almost from the very kind of shoes that I held in my hand, I recognized those steps to be that of my colleague. Sure enough, a second later I hear her voice.
“Chuck, I’m back. Where-"
"Oh, I didn't see you had a client. My apologies, Ma'am.” She said, as she came into view of me and Mrs. K.
“Not at all, young lady. I was just about to purchase this pair of shoes.” Mrs. K said, suddenly snatching the piece from my hand.
She handed it to Meg, my colleague who didn't seem to suspect anything and merely smiled at Mrs. K.
“Of course, a fine choice. I hope my colleague here has your size just right?” Meg said, turned her back and headed towards the cash register.
Mrs. K and I merely looked at each other, she gave me wink.
“Yes, indeed he has.” She said, smiling as she slipped her feet back into her own pumps and rose from her seat. She headed to the counter.
I gathered the remaining pairs from the floor, the boots in my left hand, and the flats in my right. I then followed suit. Meg cashed in the purchase, packed the shoes in a box, and handed them over in a bag to Mrs. K, who straightened out her skirt.
“Thank you kindly, and thanks for shopping at Gucci!” Meg chimed the usual pleasantry. I muttered something along the same.
“Why, it was my pleasure.” Mrs. K returned, smiling at Meg – but lingered knowingly on me. I smiled back.
“Have a nice day!” Meg added, as we watched Mrs. K turn her heels and began walking off towards the staircase.
Meg spotted the pair of flats I still held in my hand, and noticed the missing red plume.
“Chuck, are you missing something?” she asked.
My eyes were still fixed on the leaving figure that was Mrs. K.
“I guess I am.” I replied, as I watched her disappear down the stairs.
END
