The elderly man laughed. “I can see how you came to that conclusion. It does look suspicious. I expect you looked through the window and saw your shoes on the counter. They may look ready, but they’re not. The young lady’s high heel required extensive work. It looks finished, but I assure you the glue isn’t set yet. By morning, they’ll be better than new. I wouldn’t have closed early just to get you to stay the night in my hotel... but you’re in luck, we have vacancies. Do you want a room with a bathroom en suite?” Joanne nodded yes. “Room number three—it overlooks the street, and has a small balcony. Do you want to see it first?”
Gordon snapped, “We’ll take it. Where would you recommend us to eat?”
“There’s a top-of-the-line restaurant only a hundred yards away. It’s called the Shoehorn. If you decide to eat there, just mention my name. The chef’s a personal friend.”
“You wouldn’t, by any chance, own that establishment as well?”
“As it so happens, I do.” He dangled a massive key. The big red plastic triangle had a number three on it. Joanne snatched it and ran to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
Ron calmly said, “Your wife likes the place. I think the two of you will enjoy staying here.” Gordon picked up the two bags and turned to follow his wife.
Ron shouted after him, “Remember, it’s good to walk in someone else’s shoes. By the way, my name’s Ron Cobler. It’s the family trade. We’ve been cobblers for centuries, and I’ve walked miles in many different shoes.”
Gordon trudged up the stairs. One door stood wide open. He walked in.
He stopped. Joanne lay on top of the golden-red bedspread. “I love it. I have no idea what a courtesan’s room looked like in the mid to late nineteenth century. Do you think it’s authentic?”
Gordon scanned the room. “Maybe. The bed has an ornate iron frame with headboard and footboard. Is it comfortable?”
“Yes, it is. We’ll be really intimate. It’s much narrower than our queen size back at home.”
“Red’s the color. They have red rugs hanging on the walls! Even the glass chandelier has a reddish tint. Something not red? There’s a black wooden heater with wood in it ready to burn. My, this pottery water jug and bowl look authentic.” He laughed. “There’s even a chamber pot under the bed. What’s this door? I wonder where it leads.” Gordon disappeared. He shouted, “Thank God. We have a modern bathroom complete with shower. I was worried. I’m not into squatting.”
Joanne jumped off the bed. “Look, a stand-alone wardrobe. We’re so spoiled these days with our walk-in closets.” She opened the door. “This is unreal. It’s as if someone can read my mind.”
“What are you talking about?”
Joanne took a dress out and waved it in the air.
Gordon asked, “What is it?”
“Guess.”
“It looks like something a prostitute would wear.”
“That’s going to be me. You can wine and dine me first, then bring me back here. I’ll have to check if you’re number one in the queue. I’ll be in demand.”
“Come here.” Gordon roughly pulled her to him.
He kissed her, and to Joanne’s surprise, she returned his kiss.
They broke apart. “Wow,” Gordon exclaimed. “It’s been too long.”
Joanne fondled his groin and smiled as she felt his rapidly growing erection. “No brewers droop for you, but you’ll have to wait. Anticipation is key. All through dinner you’ll be thinking about dessert. I hope your wallet’s fat.”
Gordon laughed. “Get changed. I’ll wait down at the bar.”
Joanne picked up the dress again. What’s come over me? I really want to have sex with Gordon again. Is it the hotel? I know, what did the cobbler say? Yes, he said something about walking in someone else’s shoes. I’m channeling a whore... no, more upscale... a courtesan. Let’s check the drawer.” She pulled open the drawer underneath the varnished red-oak wardrobe and muttered, “There’s fishnet stockings, a garter belt, and yes... frilly knickers. No, they’re the original ruffled bloomers. It’s the works. I’m going to enjoy giving Gordon his lucky night.”
Chapter Three: Dreams
Joanne looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Oh my God. I’m a whore. Is the red lipstick overkill? No, I don’t care. I feel so sexy and liberated. Hubby—no—my client—won’t be able to keep his hands off me. Final touch, I’ll tie my hair up in a bun.
Joanne walked out and sat on the chair by the door. She placed her legs on the balcony rail and rocked the chair back. That should give the punters a show. What’s gotten into me?
* * * *
Gordon heard the door close and looked up. The bartender whispered, “She’s available.”
He turned to retort that she was his wife. No, he’s playing the pimp’s role. He turned back and stared up at the woman sitting in the chair, rocking back and forth on the balcony.
God, she’s so hot. I love the black-red corset, black-red skirt, fishnet stockings, black boots, and just a glimpse of... frilly knickers. Yes, she’s my own cancan girl.
He left his coffee behind and walked to the base of the staircase, pulled out his wallet, and waved a one-hundred-dollar bill.
The woman stopped rocking and stood up. She held up four fingers. Gordon pulled out another three notes. She walked to the top of the stairs. She stopped, pulled out a hairpin, and shook her head. Long blonde hair billowed around her shoulders.
Gordon gasped. It’s a halo. She’s one naughty angel.
The woman’s hair finally settled, and she started down the stairs. She stopped, still standing on the bottom step, and held out her dark, lace-gloved hand.
Spellbound, Gordon stood frozen, staring at her piercing blue eyes. She snapped her fingers in annoyance. He handed over the four one-hundred-dollar notes. She smiled as she lifted her skirt, exposing a long leg that disappeared behind white ruffled bloomers. The courtesan tucked the notes inside her garter belt before smoothing her skirt and holding out her hand. He gently held it. She took the final step and headed through the saloon doors and out onto the street.
He hurried to catch her. “Where are we going?”
“The Shoehorn Restaurant. You’re buying me dinner. If you’re good, I may let you have your wicked way with me, but only if you’re good.”
The restaurant was quiet, and only two or three other couples were eating. The maître d’ took them to a secluded booth in a corner. It even had heavy red embroidered curtains for complete privacy.
The waiter arrived and asked, “What can I get you to drink?”
Gordon immediately replied, “What wine do you have?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Slipper City is dry. We passed the no alcohol ordinance a few years back. I recommend our Orchard Fizz. It’s a sparkling blend of apples and pears. We serve it chilled.”
The lady of the night smiled and nodded.
The waiter continued, “The special of the day is blackened sole served over a rice pilaf. If you prefer, you can change the side to shoestring potatoes.”
The lady answered, “I’ll have the special with the rice pilaf.”
“Good choice, ma’am, and for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the special as well, but with fries.”
The maître d’ returned and lit the candle on the table. “Your waiter will bring your drink. Do you want water?” Gordon and his lady both nodded. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He left, closing the curtain.
Gordon reached over and held Joanne’s hand. “That’s enough playacting. It’s just me and you.”
The lady leaned over, nibbled his ear, then whispered, “I’m not your wife tonight. I’ve channeled the spirits of all the courtesans who’ve worked room number three. Lean back and enjoy the ride.”
She slipped off her boot.
Gordon felt something rubbing his groin. He closed his eyes. Oh yes.
Someone discreetly coughed before opening
the curtain. The waiter brought in an ice bucket with a chilled bottle of Orchard Fizz.
“Ma’am, would you like to taste?”
“Yes, please.”
He wrapped the bottle in a napkin, expertly removed the cork with a satisfying pop, and half-filled her flute. She sipped.
“That’s refreshingly delicious.”
“Sir, would you like a glass?”
Gordon looked glazed. Oh my, she’s working my erection with her toes. God, I’ve got such a hard-on.
The waiter coughed.
“Yes, whatever.”
The waiter filled his flute, added two glasses of water, some butter and rolls, and slipped out, closing the curtain behind him.
I’m not even tasting the food. I didn’t think Jo could eat so much. She finished off her fish, and mine. I just want to get her back to the hotel and fuck her.
The waiter cleared away the empty dinner plates. “Can I interest you in dessert or coffee?”
The lady answered, “Yes, a decaffeinated coffee, au lait style. What are your recommendations for afters?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Peach cobbler is our specialty. It’s unbelievable, covered in whipped cream and just a tad stodgy. If you want something a little lighter, try the macaroons. They’re laced with a dark chocolate drizzle.”
“I’ll have the peach cobbler. Baby, why don’t you have the macaroons?”
“If you’re not going to eat it, pass it over here.”
Gordon just pushed the macaroon around the plate. She passed him her empty dessert plate and took his.
Gordon watched as she ate his dessert. Where’s she putting all this food? “They’re not in a rush for us to leave. We seem to have this booth for the night. Shall we...”
“Babe, relax, we have all night.”
The lady finished off her coffee. “Done. Lover, let’s go.”
Gordon scrambled up and moved Joanne’s chair back.
“Thank you. You’re so polite, but you’d better be an animal in the bedroom.” She drew the curtain back and headed out.
Gordon stood at a loss. We haven’t paid yet. He waved and managed to get the waiter’s attention. “Can we have the bill?”
“Don’t worry, sir. Mr. Cobler mentioned he was taking care of it. Have a great evening.”
Gordon trotted to catch up with Joanne, as she’d left. I expect we’ll get a superbill when we check out tomorrow.
He’d nearly reached Joanne at the hotel entrance when she turned around. Suddenly he found himself kissing her. She was the aggressor. Her tongue dominated his, and she moved her hand to fondle his erection.
Then she pushed away from him. “That’s your free hors d’oeuvre. Want the main course?” She held her hand out and rubbed her thumb across her fingers.
Without thinking, he pulled out his wallet. One note remained. She plucked it out and pushed it inside her brassiere. “I expect you to visit the ATM before you join me in room number three.”
She turned on her heels and entered the hotel.
Where am I going to find an ATM? I think she’s serious. I could end up sleeping on that chair just outside room number three. She wouldn’t take this role-playing that far... would she? She’s not acting like Jo. No, I’m not taking the risk. There has to be a cash dispenser somewhere in the hotel.
He dejectedly walked up to reception. A young lady was on duty. “Excuse me, do you have an ATM?”
“I’m afraid we don’t. We’re a little old-fashioned here. Mr. Cobler only recently accepted credit cards.”
Gordon put his hands to his face and whispered, “What am I to do?”
The receptionist disappeared for a minute. She returned, carrying a lockbox, and with a grin on her face, said, “You’re in luck. Mr. Cobler said I could give you an advance. I expect he’ll add it to your bill.”
Gordon removed his hands. “This is a strange question. How much would a courtesan charge a mark to stay the night?”
“With inflation, you’re looking at a thousand dollars.”
“Well, I need one-thousand dollars.” Did she just raise her eyebrows at me?
“No problem, sir.” She wrote on a piece of paper, one-thousand-dollar advance to Mr. Baily, staying in room number three. “Please sign here.”
He woodenly signed. The young woman counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills, then dropped the signed note in the box. “Have a good night, sir.”
Gordon stood at the door to room number three. Why am I nervous? She’s my wife, but she’s acting differently. At the restaurant, playing footsie with me, that’s not her. My cock’s throbbing. I like this new Jo. He knocked.
“Lover, come in. I’m waiting. Have you brought me a present?”
Gordon opened the door and walked in. He gasped. Joanne lay on the bed wearing only her corset, bloomers, and fishnet stockings. She sat up and pointed at a jar on the bedside cabinet. There were five dollar bills inside. He walked over and dropped a one-hundred-dollar note in the jar. The courtesan drew a little circle in the air with her finger. He dropped a second, a third... soon, all ten notes had disappeared into the jar.
She patted the bed by her side. “That’s a good boy. Come sit by me. You can stay the night, and I’m worth every penny.”
My hands are shaking. What’s come over me? He walked to the bed and gently sat down by her side.
She slipped off the bed and stood in front of him.
I’d forgotten how tiny her waist is. He reached out and grasped her. My fingers almost touch at her back.
“Kiss me,” she ordered.
He pulled her closer. Their lips met. He moved his arms to hold her tight against him. She moved her hips, grinding against his hard-on.
In a frenzy, he tore off his shirt as she undid his belt. Her hands found and freed his throbbing erection.
She cooed, “Ooh, it’s a nice size. I can tell you desire me.” She huskily commanded, “I’m a wanton woman. Take me... now. I want your cock buried inside me.”
This doesn’t even sound like Jo. She’s never this forward... but I like it. He moved and knelt on the bed. She raised her hips, and he pulled her knickers down, ripping them off in his haste to mount her.
She urged, “Yes, come on, pound me with your huge cock. I want to feel it pulsating and throbbing. Drive me wild.”
I want to penetrate her so badly.
Take it easy, be gentle, a small voice at the back of his mind advised. “Heck no,” he growled.
He pushed against her.
She used her hand to guide him home, and in a throaty voice, gasped, “Isn’t that better? You feel so big.”
Too far gone to hear, Gordon screamed as he drove his cock into her, time and time again. He couldn’t stop. The pressure built up inside him until he had to release it. “Yes... yes,” he screamed.
A woman’s voice echoed his. “Yes... yes, I want you to explode in me... now.”
He ejaculated.
His orgasm was intense and shattering. He collapsed on the bed, still breathing heavily. “Oh, my...” he murmured.
She turned and held his head to her breast, cradling him and running her fingers through his short black hair.
She whispered, “You’re not done, are you? You paid for the entire night. If you are, that’s one expensive poke. Do you need some encouragement? Let’s see...”
Gordon lay on his back. The lady gently kissed him, then worked her way down, stopping to caress his nipples with her tongue.
“Ouch, you bit me.”
“What’s a little pain?” She nibbled his nipple again. He felt his blood rushing down to his groin. She stopped and chuckled. “See, a certain part of you likes it. I’m going to encourage the transformation.”
She took his flaccid penis into her mouth.
Oh my God, this isn’t Jo. She’s stroking my entire cock with her tongue, and now she’s sucking it. I’m getting hard again. Please don’t stop. He closed his e
yes as his body tensed.
The bed moved. He opened his eyes to see the lady straddling him.
She smiled. “You’re ready to be ridden, and I’m going to ride you hard.”
She leaned back. He gasped as his cock penetrated her. She gyrated her hips. How’s she doing this? She’s somehow contracting her muscles, and she’s pumping me. Stop analyzing... enjoy... yes, yes.
“You’re bigger this time. I like being on top, controlling the pace. I can tell you like it, too.” She pinched his nipples with her fingers. He bucked and tried to drive deeper inside her. “Not yet, I’m enjoying this. Oh God, I’m coming.” She yelled and pushed down hard.
Gordon screamed and pushed up as his cock spurted a second time.
Jo insisted on sleeping in her corset. Gordon didn’t object too hard. The material feels so sexy, and it pushes her breasts up and out. I’m in heaven. She cuddled up to him, placing her head on his chest.
He looked down. “You’re going to give me the money back when we get home.”
Jo sat up in indignation. “No. I earned it.” She laughed. “You should see your face. You’ll have to wait and see.” She gently poked his nose with her finger. “Let’s snuggle.”
They cuddled, and he protectively held her close. She looked up at him. “I expect you to serve me an early-morning boner for breakfast. You haven’t done that for ages.”
He kissed her head. “We’ll see, my love.”
* * * *
Gordon tensed as the man screamed at him.
Because I disagreed, he’s flipped. He looks familiar. Oh my God—it’s me.
The man shouted, “Get your ass moving. Do I have to give you an incentive? My bonus is on the line, and I’m not losing it because you’re an incompetent idiot. Phone the installation team. No, even better, drive out there, and do it yourself. Move.”
“Gordon, I told you how tight the original schedule was. You ignored my input and sold the customer a stupid deadline. We’ve had torrential rain for the past two days. The building site is flooded—”
A Walk in Your Shoes Page 2
