Hooked

by Gina Messina

  Sean lazily rolled out of bed and trailed behind her, but she slammed the door in his face, turning the lock before he had time to follow her into the bathroom.

  “I didn’t make love to Lexie; I made love to you Charlotte,” she heard him mumble through the door. “Lexie, I fucked.”

  Charlie turned on the shower and stepped inside, hoping the noise would drown out the words that he had just said. She reached for the soap and tried to scrub herself clean with a washcloth, letting the hot water cascade down her body until her skin was red and angry looking. The room became steamy and she could scarcely make out her hands in front of her face. Yet, no matter how much hot water she used and how much soap she scrubbed her body with, when she stepped out of the shower, she still felt dirty. She was disgusted by what she’d done and shocked she allowed it to happen. But most of all, she was repulsed with herself because she’d also been turned on like never before. It was those goddamn Chanel shoes fault! The thought that they could soon be hers, had been too tempting to resist.

  “Stop acting like a petulant child and get dressed!” Sean ordered when she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a white terry cloth robe. She refused to look at him while she pulled herself together, stuffing the soiled red peignoir into a plastic bag meant for dirty laundry, and stuffing the free soaps, creams and shampoos from the bathroom into her purse. Sean paced back and forth in front of the window, muttering something under his breath that was unintelligible. She didn’t even bother trying to make out what he was saying because more than anything, she wanted to ditch that hotel and force the memory from of her mind. She wanted to pretend that it was a bad dream. That it had never happened. Charlie wanted a re-set!

  Sean finally stopped pacing and mumbling and a small smile found its way to his face. “Hey Charlotte, we should get those Chanel shoes you were admiring in the window last night,” he called out to her-just like she knew he would. She couldn’t have scripted it better.

  Charlie heard that loud and clear. And, she knew she had to play her cards right. After all, she’d given him what he wanted and now it was her turn to be rewarded. But, after the way last night had gone down, she felt she deserved more than one pair of Chanel shoes and was hell bent on making sure she was fairly compensated.

  “I’m not interested,” she coyly replied, even though she was already imagining herself walking out the boutique with a shopping bag full of shoes! There had been at least three pairs that had caught her eye and she knew that having to choose between them would be like choosing between which of your children to save in a burning building if you could pick only one. It’s going to be virtually impossible, she convinced herself.

  Sean walked over to where she was standing and put both his hands on her shoulders, “Look at me,” he quietly said. She lifted her head up and gazed directly into his blue eyes, then he gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her damp hair, “I thought you were ready. I thought you would be pleased.” He swept his arm toward the lavish room and declared, “This was all for you, Charlotte.”

  Deep down inside, she knew none of it had been for her. That Sean had only been thinking about himself and she had merely been a puppet that he had manipulated to make his fantasy come true. She put on a pouty face and pretended to act guilty for having given him a hard time.

  “I just wasn’t prepared,” she said innocently while averting her eyes to the floor.

  “Well then, next time I won’t make it a surprise! We can plan it together. You can even pick out the girl,” he generously offered. “Anyone you want; it doesn’t matter to me, just as long as she has great tit’s.”

  Charlie looked up and smiled, unsure of how to react to that statement. Sean, on the other hand, took her smile as a sign of approval and hurried her off to get dressed for their shopping excursion.

  They decided to walk the four short blocks down Park Avenue to the Chanel Boutique on 57th Street, picking up a quick coffee and croissant at a local brasserie on the way. When they arrived at the boutique, Charlie’s mind wandered back to that night. She’d been hypnotized by the very window not twelve hours earlier. It had been the moment when she’d teetered on the edge of crossing an invisible line. A line she had ultimately chosen to hop right over and one that she knew she could never undo. But now she was going to get her reward and she was going to milk Sean for all that it was worth.

  Sean steered her inside and Charlie spent the rest of the afternoon lost in a good dream. She didn’t think about that invisible line again because she was too busy trying on as many pairs of shoes that she could. There were boxes piled all over the floor. Each time she slipped a new pair on her feet, she spun and twirled in little circles, showing them off to Sean. He was cheerfully urging her on and laughing at her excitement and enthusiasm as she flitted back and forth, from one shoebox to the next.

  The saleswoman, a plastic surgery experiment gone terribly wrong, tolerated her juvenile behavior. Charlie had no doubt in her mind that she was trying to manually calculate the large commission she saw in her future which would surely cover at least one Botox session.

  After she’d considered all of her options, Charlie knew she had make her move. She wasn’t going to let Sean off the hook so cheaply. There were two pairs she knew she had to have. One was a black and tan heel with the signature CC logo on each side and the other, a platform low vamp patent peep toe in dove gray python.

  “Which pair do you like better?” she asked him while holding one of each in her outstretched hands. “The racy gray snake-skin peep toe or the classic tan quilted pumps?” she asked, or “Or these gray ones? They would go perfectly with the lingerie from last night, don’t you think? I just love red and gray together.” At the mention of the words, last night, Sean perked up. “I have to admit, Sean, even though I was upset this morning, I can’t stop thinking about you and Lexie… together.”

  Sean looked relieved. “I knew you would come around! You know what?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Let’s get them both!” he exclaimed before telling her that he loved the sexy toe cleavage on the gray pythons, and couldn’t wait to see her wearing them with the little red nightie.”

  He had a huge grin on his face when she clapped her hands in the air and jumped up and down like a small eager child. She signaled to the saleswoman that she was ready to checkout before standing on her tippy toes and wrapping her arms around Sean’s neck to give him a lingering kiss on his lips. The delight that she felt was literally indescribable-a ridiculous, unclassifiable glee.

  “This is the best anniversary gift ever!” she just about sang, her face all dewy and glowing as she skipped over to the register with Sean’s black American Express card clutched tightly in her hand. When she handed the credit card over to her saleswoman Charlie felt more satisfied than she thought was ever possible. She watched as she rang up the shoes, then glanced over at Sean and felt a little guilty. It had been so easy to take advantage of him.

  Charlie couldn’t wait to wear her new shoes and was already trying to figure out what outfits would show them off best. She had no intention of putting on that nightie-ever again, and she also had no intention of seeing Lexie ever again. Lexie was dead to her and had only been a puppet in her own fantasy. She never believed in tit for tat, but if Sean was going to use her like a marionette to get what he wanted, then Charlie had no problem doing the same. It seemed only fair.

  Later that night, after she had put her new shoes away and they were sharing a bottle of wine, she gave Sean his anniversary present; a long plaid cashmere scarf from Burberry’s that perfectly matched his light blue eyes. When he opened the box, she watched him from across the sofa as he rubbed his two fingers between the soft woven fabric. “It’s beautiful,” he said, staring into her eyes.

  They made love that night with a sensitivity they hadn’t shared before. Sean caressed her gently, taking his time, while purring sweet words of endearment into her ear. He kissed he
r deeply and softly, tenderly exploring every inch of her body. It was the polar opposite of her experience with Lexie, with the crude language and frantic sex that had taken place on the ninth floor of that hotel room. When they were finished making love, they spooned so very close, she could feel the rhythmic thumping of his heart against her bare skin. With her backside nestled into his groin and his muscular arms wrapped securely around her waist, she’d never felt more content within the darkness of her bedroom.

  It had been a life-altering fuck.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” she whispered while she laid in his arms. And she was.

  “I love you, Charlie,” Sean whispered back. That was the first time Sean had ever told her he loved her, and the only time that he’d ever called her Charlie. She wasn’t sure what it meant and she didn’t really care because for some reason she awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly optimistic and refreshed. While he slept, she studied his face, taking special notice of his strong jaw with the centrally placed dimple and his pale brown lashes that periodically fluttered as if he were dreaming. She lay naked in his arms feeling safe and secure, relishing in the gentle way he had made love to her that night-a way he never had before, with a lethal sweetness that completely ravished and enraptured her.

  I’m going to marry this man, she voiced to herself while smiling serenely at the ideal image she’d just created in her mind. I’m going to marry this man and we’re going to have a perfect home, perfect children, and the perfect marriage. Charlie vividly pictured a seven room duplex on Madison Avenue with a nursery painted in a pale washed out pink and a little swathed bundle they would adoringly call Layla. She visualized the impeccably placed mid-century modern furniture and a large terrace where a little Bichon Frise, she would name after her favorite designer, could romp and play freely. Charlie could practically taste the wonderfully prepared gourmet meals they would share with their many new friends in their vast commercial kitchen, the first class vacations they would take to Paris and Rome and the shopping expeditions to Prague and Milan.

  She also imagined an enormous custom designed walk-in closet that was more like a room, with shelf after shelf meant only for footwear. Row upon row of the most glorious shoes.

  “We’re going to have a fantasy of a life,” she sighed contentedly to her cat Sneakers who abruptly got up and went to take a metaphorical dump in the litter box.

  “Dr. Harrison, I was whistling up a storm the rest of the day. I felt so alive. Having Sean in my arms and the boxes of Chanel shoes in my closet? Well, I was ready for anything!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Don’t throw away your old shoes until you have new ones.”

  Unknown

  “Charlie, the answer is so very simple. You need to get rid of your shoes! All of them. Every last pair.”

  “What did you just say?” Charlie thought she must have misheard Dr. Harrison.

  “You need to get rid of all of your shoes!” Dr. Harrison repeated with a confident bravado Charlie had never heard until that very moment. She was suddenly not sure if she should be smiling of frowning. She was dumbfounded!

  Did I really just hear my doctor correctly? Could she have possibly said you need to get bigger shoes? which wouldn’t have made any sense at all because she wore a size eight and she always had, except for a brief period of time when she was pregnant with Layla. She settled for a confused look, then sat there with a perplexed expression while trying to recall the last time she’d had a proper hearing exam.

  Fucking high school. She remembered how the entire ninth grade class was herded into the gymnasium like cattle to slaughter and corralled into one corner while they humiliatingly waited to have their hearing tested in front of the entire student body. Charlie had felt terrible for one of her classmates who was singled out and sent over to the side of the room that had been designated for the hearing impaired.

  No wonder I heard her wrong! she thought to herself with an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude.

  “Charlie, you have an addiction!” Dr. Harrison explained further. “And its shoes. You’re a shoe junkie! You need to get rid of them…now.”

  So much for the hearing loss. Suddenly, Charlie wished she was deaf so she didn’t have to hear what her doctor was telling her. But she wasn’t deaf and so she had no choice but to listen to her drone on.

  “Just like a drug user or an alcoholic. You made a life choice based on this addiction. It was a bad trade, but it happens all the time. You basically swapped away a bright future so you could feel fulfilled in the here and now. When you needed a quick shoe fix, Sean was always there to feed your craving! But what he required in return was demeaning and abusive. Sean knew he could get you to do anything he wanted because you needed him! And he also knew that you would put up with his absurd behavior because he was, in effect, your dealer! Your supplier of the goods that feed and nourish your addiction!” Dr. Harrison said with such confidence, Charlie was sure she must have choreographed it.

  “Don’t you see?” Dr. Harrison exclaimed with renewed energy. It was almost as if a light had been turned on in a dark room. “All of these shoes will never allow you move on in a healthy, constructive way. You will never be able to move forward, toward the promising future you desire and deserve. They all hold such distorted memories for you. Every time you open your closet doors, and physically see each pair, with their derogatory history and their shameful story, you are subconsciously thwarted. You’re rendered disabled. It’s mentally debilitating!”

  Charlie was stunned into silence. It took her more than a few minutes to grasp what her shrink was saying but then suddenly-a light had been turned on in her darkened mind. Maybe, Dr. Harrison has a point. Maybe, I do use shoes as a crutch, something to lean on when my life is going to hell in a handbag. Maybe I am hooked, like a junkie. Charlie took it all in and then solemnly spoke out, “I think I get it,” because suddenly it occurred to her-really occurred-to her-that maybe she didn’t love her shoes anymore. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever really loved them.

  “Oh my God! You’re a fucking genius,” Charlie yelled out in awe, while digesting her doctor’s latest, her only revelation, within the past nine months. Maybe if I get rid of all my baggage I can have a different life! Maybe I can have a real future?

  Finally, Charlie felt like it had all been worth it! All the years of therapy were going to pay off! She could fix everything, like one repairs a broken appliance or tunes up a poorly running engine. Her life could be as good as new and all she had to do was get rid of tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of designer heels. Charlie instantly pictured herself throwing away all of her shoes. Or, better yet, generously giving them away.

  That’s what I’ll do! I’ll give them away! It will be the ultimate sacrifice, but it will be worth it in the end. There’s no one who wouldn’t want them! she ecstatically convinced herself. They are all so brilliant! Every single glorious pair!

  Her mind was swirling like an angry cyclone, in so many directions, she couldn’t keep up with the relentless circling of her thoughts. They just kept coming and coming. It’s was a fucking clusterfuck of exhausting emotions!

  A list! I’ll make a God dam fucking list! It will be very long, but I’ll make sure no one is left off. I’ll even put it in alphabetical order to be certain I don’t miss one single name! Everyone will get their own pair! she thought with such conviction, it made her brain dizzy. “I have so many shoes, it will be easy! As easy as pie! Shoofly pie!” she exclaimed.

  Charlie started to make a mental list in her head.

  What’s with all the ‘L’ names? she suddenly marveled to herself. That’s just downright creepy! They all begin with an ‘L’; even Layla begins with an ‘L’. Layla won’t get a pair though, because her feet are still growing and she can’t possibly walk in heels. But I’ll save some for her! I’ll save the best ones until she is ready!

  I’ll give one pair to that skinny cunt, Lizbeth, Charlie proudly thought.
She probably won’t be able to wear them until after the baby arrives and her feet aren’t so swollen, but she’ll welcome them just the same. And Lily! Lily Love, the slut with the porn star name and ginormous rack, will get a pair too! I’ll even attempt to track down the tiny dancing waif, Lexie, with the tight little pussy that smelled all perfumy. The clear plastic platform stripper shoes Sean gave me for my birthday will be perfect for her! They will be a gesture of solidarity! Oh, and I mustn’t forget about my redneck bridesmaid, Lucy and the raven headed Italian waitress Lucia! Oh my God! Two more fucking ‘L’ names. Lucy can have the lace Valentino wedding shoes; they will be the ideal choice for her considering how she behaved at my wedding and I can give Lucia the red Gucci python stilettos that will complement her saffron colored pubic hair just perfectly! Sweet Jesus! I almost forgot about my old neighbor Lauren! The only shoes she’s going to get are the Steve Madden’s she borrowed and returned with a big divot in the cork heel. It will serve her right! She had no shoe etiquette to speak of at all.

  Charlie imagined each of them thanking her. “How thoughtful of you!” they would each say.

  “Here you go,” she would offer, all beaming and proud, while she held them out in her two open hands like the precious gifts that they were. “These are for you. They’re yours for the taking,” she will generously offer. “No, really, please take them. They’ll look so much better on your two feet! What’s that? Please speak up. I think my hearing is going, I haven’t had a proper exam since the ninth grade. Did you just say you wear a size... nine, Lily? Yes, I know it’s hard to find a good pair of shoes in a size nine, but don’t worry: you can have them stretched!” she will sing, as she pulls out her Mont Blanc pen from her lizard Steve McQueen clutch and jots down the address of the little Polish shoe repair shop that she exclusively uses on East 68th Street between Madison and Park. What a win-win it will be for everyone!