"It's a girl thing," I said with a smile to the shoe salesman as I looked down at the shoes he had slipped on my feet. Spike heels, narrow straps, absolute torture but worth the pain.
"Oh believe me, I completely understand," he said with a sheepish grin.
I looked down at the man kneeling patiently at my feet while I admired the shoes. He was waiting for me to decide if I liked them or not, looking up at me with those big brown puppydog eyes, ready to run fetch another pair if I just said the word.
Linda and I met in college and in my algebra class. She was 21 years old, only 17 days younger than me. She was 5'5" and quite fit. I helped her a few times with her algebra homework. Since then we became good friends and we hung out every now and then.
Last Friday she came over to my house for a mellow movie night. She is usually a punctual girl, but she came half hour late and looked tired.
It was early evening and I was sitting in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I was home from college for the first time since the semester started back in September. Looking into the mirror, I asked myself question after question, never answering what I was asking. As I sat there peering into my brown eyes, I tried to figure out who I was and who I was becoming.
After taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I opened them to once again stare into the mirror.
I've never kept a journal before. With the exception of my best friend,there's no one I can tell what I've done this past week. I figured this would be a perfect time to start writing things down. I think it'll make me feel better.
Geoff Larsen, (of course that isn't his real name), is the President of Marketing. His office is located four doors down the hall from my own and, being President, his office is a corner unit making it almost twice the size of my own with a fully equipped bath complete with a whirlpool, a corner shower and a laundry chute that heads straight to the basement of the facilities where the gym is located.
The setting sun lazily flashed and flickered off the final water jump. Caroline dug her boot heels in to goad her horse, Odyne, to complete the final jump. Before the ripples caused by the mud falling from the horses hoofs had reached the bank, she had crossed the line to what can only be described as polite, almost sympathetic applause.
With it being the first time that Zachary Metzger had brought a friend over from school, his father, Thomas, had figured that it would probably be best for them all if he were to lay low throughout the day, give them their space. Most parents- it seemed as though they would jump at every opportunity to humiliate their offsprings, but not Tom. No... he was different.
She was feeling a little nervous as she arrived. Mistress Heather, as she was known in the D/s community, was still a rather young girl of 23. She had been a practicing Domme for a little over 3 years, however most of those experiences were in the confines of a few of her college relationships. It had only been for the last 9 months that the blond haired Domme had sought more professional experiences with true sub girls.
It was a warm spring night, for a dinner with friends at an upscale, trendy restaurant somewhere in the city. We both dressed a little nicer than the norm because the occasion and location demanded it. I was in a blazer, blue shirt and blue and green striped tie, but I couldn't hold a candle to how beautiful and sexy you were--a slim, shiny black cocktail dress, thin straps at the shoulders and a little lower in the front than usual. You also wore black stockings and heels. When you were getting ready, I caught a peek of my favorite black thong nestled in the front and rear of my gorgeous wife.
My ex-girlfriend Tori and I dated for five years, and we had an interesting sex life during that time. She had a thing for kink, which I happily indulged in as well, but one particular encounter sticks out in my mind.
We had a great time that day. We went to dinner and a movie, walked around the mall for an hour or so, and browsed the local bookstore. All the while we kept shooting each other flirtatious glances. I could tell, from experience, that she was in the mood for something, and I hoped she was picking up the same signals from me.