Shoe Fetish
Click clack
Click Click clack
thwap, slap thwap.
Clunk, stomp, Clunk.
Music, sweet... music ringing through the halls. Reverberations soothingly ripple. Click clack. Thwap, slap, Clunk, stomp.
Straps and soles and buckles and bows... aaaaaaaaah the beauty. Dainty or clunky or comfy so much heaven manufactured into such a pair!
Leather and plastic and cloth ....aahhh such texture. Rustic comfort of a fine swede, the slick slipperiness of vinyl, the billowy cloud of a cloth ass so magnificent!
Red and mauve and black ......................aahhhhhhhhh such sass! The sexy siren of a red hot flame drawing attention. The sophisticate pep of a mellow mauve mule moseying down the lane. The wreck less wild wipe of a wet sassy diva lashed around the ankle or thigh.
Dressed to the nines, pedicure fresh, cash in hand, Talula stood. Luxuriating in the smell, sight, and anticipation of a new purchase, she sashayed herself down the isle, her obsession leading her by the toe. One more shoe couldn't hurt.
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