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Red High Heels Ruined Me Forever
Young, dumb and I lost my soul to a six foot woman in heels
She was six feet tall, without the heels, mostly legs, upside down on the floor in that stripper sort of way, red heels waving high in the air, and I knew at that moment I was ruined for life and maybe madly in love.
In my small town, church based sheltered life, I had never seen a naked woman that beautiful, or just naked with the light on if I had to admit it, or even knew shoes like that existed. My first strip bar, drunk, and the most innocent guy who might have ever walked into that den of questionable integrity.
Women in our small town, out there in the middle of our country living in one of those conservative states that begins with a vowel, wore sensible, flat, and mostly black shoes. Even weddings and other special occasions meant you wore your best black shoes, but always black and always sensible.
Red shoes, with outrageous spiked heels, wouldn’t have made it past my little town’s city limit sign without a caravan of church ladies setting the delivery truck on fire, saving all us from an eternity of sweaty, dancing women strutting it all for dollar bills.
We did dance when I was young, but there were about twenty adults watching over maybe a hundred kids and even then we wore…
