Red Shoes
The streets are bustling with crowds and the sound of bicycle bells fill my ears as I head into the small shoe shop. An old man stands there, bowing to me. I smile awkwardly, a stranger to this country and its customs, and hope that he notices my out of place Western clothing, just as I notice his collection of handmade shoes, all exotic to me. The place smells like a combination of ginseng and leather, a heady smell that fills the senses, and is lit gently by two lamps with paper shades. I am not here for the shoes, though, but something far more exotic and enticing, something forbidden.
“Ah yes,” he says, in a strongly accented voice, but the words are understandable, and I breathe a sigh of relief that we will actually be able to understand each other. I curse my ignorance at not learning more of his language, for this is a delicate matter and one misunderstanding could get me in a lot of trouble.
“You are here for my daughter, yes?” He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, and I wonder for a moment how far I have come to be here, how low I have sunk. Is it right to pay for this, I wonder? Perhaps when I see her I will know. I can still turn back from this.
He calls into the back room in his language, and a clear voice returns his call. She parts the bead curtain at the back of the shop, and my breath is taken away as I see her there, wearing a tight, green satin dress which shows off her shapely form. Her nipples are visible through the dress and I feel a heady feeling of desire flow through my veins, a desire to squeeze those breasts, to slowly strip her naked and have her in every way a woman can have another woman.
I look for sorrow in her face, but there is none. Her head is held high, and there is no shame in her eyes. I am glad. I am not sure I could do this if it would hurt her, for she is a beautiful being, I can see that now.
I want to say something, to ask if she is sure, but I am afraid I will insult her honor. I already know that her father’s business is failing, that she needs to find the money to keep it alive, to keep her family fed, and that I am the answer. Yet still I feel somewhat cruel and dishonorable. Still, the moment I saw her photo I knew I wanted her, and she does not disappoint me in real life. Her long black hair flows down her back, and she is the picture of Asian beauty. I wonder why her father has not had her marry a rich man instead to keep them all; I know she could turn the head of any man she wanted.
She comes forward to me; she is not shy. I am glad, for I am shaking in my boots, a nervous woman, afraid of the things I have dreamt of but never done. She takes my hand; her skin is soft and smooth. I wonder if her entire body feels as soft. That one touch sends shivers down my spine; I cannot wait much longer.
She leads me through a maze of back rooms, mostly filled with boxes until we reach a room I am sure is hers. I pull out a pile of American currency; she looks and shakes her head, but says nothing. I put the money away, feeling awkward, wondering if I have offended her. She is no cheap whore to be paid for and used, she is something far more special.
Sensing my awkwardness, she smiles and starts to squeeze my breasts through my shirt. She is so close I can feel her every breath, and her touch is driving me wild. I sigh happily, and she removes my shirt entirely, then my pants, bra and panties with effortless speed, until I am standing naked before her and she is there in that enticing green dress.
I kiss her passionately, rubbing my naked body up against her clothed form. She tastes like lipstick and flowers, a heady combination. The soft satin of the dress teases my skin and I let my hands rub her breasts through the fabric, teasing the nipples until they stand up again. I let my hands roam down between her thighs and touch her through the dress. She moans and it both drives me crazy and eases my conscience to know that she is enjoying this as well.
She is hungry for me; she starts sucking my nipples, teasing them with her tongue. I’m so turned on I can’t take it anymore, but I’m determined to be patient and enjoy every moment of this, a moment I know will never come again.
She lets her hand slip between my legs and I allow her fingers access. She teases my clit, and I think I could not be any wetter at this moment, no matter what I tried. She senses I am close, and takes her fingers away, cruelly teasing me. Then her finger starts probing at my entrance, and I let her in, crying out in pure pleasure as her finger explores me.
I did not come here simply to be pleasured, though. I came here to pleasure, to give, to experience what it is like to touch another woman. I pull away from her and she seems to understand. I take one more look at her in that enticing dress before I move the straps off her shoulders and undo the zipper. The dress pools on the floor around her feet and I see her naked body at last. I take a moment to drink in the sight of her incredible round breasts before taking her hand and leading her back to the bed. She understands and lays down, spreading her legs. I kneel down at the end of the bed and let my fingers touch her. She is incredibly wet, and moans as I tease her down there.
I’m so hungry, I can’t take it any more. I dive in, letting my tongue lap at her wetness, tasting her, wanting her. She tastes like honey and nectar and I lick her hungrily as she cries out. She starts to grip the sheets but I don’t let up, and she comes, her body spasming in delight.
I’m still hungry, though, and she knows this. She stands up and makes me lay down and lays on top of me, rubbing her breasts against mine. I love the incredible feeling and she smiles as she does it. I know now that she loves to do this as much as I do and while her father might think it is only for money, she too is fulfilling a hidden desire.
She spreads my legs and then hers, and starts to grind her pussy into mine. I cry out at the contact, unable to take any more, coming like I have never felt pleasure before. My whole body shakes and I lie there exhausted, panting like a dog. She lays beside me and I think we might sleep, but there is still a desire for more, a need to touch each other. Once we sleep it is over, and we will never touch again.
I make her sit up against the headboard, and I slide my fingers into her while eating her again. She grabs my head and holds it as she near screams from the pleasure as she comes. I move up and suck on her breasts again, loving every second.
Eventually we are sated, but we cannot sleep. She has other clients to see, no doubt, a life of her own to get on with. Still, I am reluctant to get dressed, but make myself, not wanting to anger this woman I have just slept with.
I reluctantly pull out the bills again, knowing the nature of this contract, but she shakes her head and takes my hand. She leads me to just behind the bead curtain and points to the racks of handmade shoes. I understand. She cannot take my money, for that would make her a whore - but I can buy her father’s shoes, and keep his business alive.
I wonder if she felt anything for me while we shared that intimate moment, but I do not know if she even speaks English and it would not matter - the answer is something I cannot hear, either way. If she did not, then it would take away some of the magic for me, for I felt some kind of spiritual connection. If she did, then there is nothing I can do about it, for I am just passing through, a traveler on a long road.
I look at the shoes, trying to genuinely browse so I don’t injure her or her father’s honor. The truth is, the people are petite here and I have big feet, so none of the shoes would even fit me, but I want a pair, all the same, to keep as a memento of her for all time, and to keep her father’s business going.
I see a pair of red shoes and pick them up. They are probably the most expensive things in the store, but I can afford them, and she was most certainly worth it. Her father looks happy as I buy them, and I look over my shoulder as I leave, saving one more memory of her beauty to last me for a lifetime.
The red shoes are in my room now. Whenever I see them, I think of her and wonder what she is doing now. Is she happy, did she manage to save her family? Did she get out of that life and marry, or did she find a lover and run away? Wherever she is, I hope she is content, for she made me happy in that one brief moment we shared together in this lifetime.
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