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Entry tags:
Short pieces
Sometimes I have one vivid image of one character which leads into a short drabble. Or character study, if you like the fancier word. This one was a first piece I wrote about Emma Frost, just to get into her skin (or shoes). There is plenty of cool female characters around but I have always felt that Emma is the coolest of them all. 500 words, shoe fetish flavor.
There wasn’t many people in this earth whom Emma Frost considered as friends. Frankly, those people could be counted with one hand.
One of them was her personal shopper. Sure, they weren’t friends as such, but they had bonded. Not over the normal friendship things, like secrets or feelings or love or hate. No. They shared something more valuable than that.
Shoes.
Emma saw herself as a perfection. Hell, she had paid a lot to be a perfection. And that perfection should be adorned and lavished. Most importantly, that perfection should always walk above others. To that end, one needed shoes.
Not any shoes, mind you. Only the best kind. Only the holy Grail of shoes. The Blahniks.
And her dearest friend made that happen with a religious care.
”Ms. Frost. Exciting day, don’t you think?” The shopper smiled and waited Emma to be seated. Then the shopper walked outside the room and brought with her a white box with heavy black letters.
”Here they are. You are the first to even see these, as I promised.” With a quick sweep through the shoppers mind Emma made sure that this was the case. Only once the shopper had touched the shoes meant to Emma but after a quick lesson she never tried to do that again. She would rather cut her own hand than touch another pair of Emma’s shoes.
Such are the basics of a working friendship.
The shopper placed the box to the glass table in front of Emma and stepped back. There were waves of anticipation coming from her, no need to even use telepathy to feel that. There was a delicious tingling feeling somewhere deep inside.
This was so much better than sex.
Emma opened the box and carefully removed the silk paper wrappings over the delicate things. She lifted the other from it’s resting place and placed it on the table. The shopper gasped and it took Emma some amount of self control not to do the same.
”The man is a genius.” Shopper said with hushed voice when Emma lifted the other shoe next to the first. Like suddenly the world seemed brighter, just because this pair of shoes existed.
Quickly Emma stripped her feet bare from the silk stockings and a pair of Prada’s. She took the right shoe and slowly slipped her foot inside. What a pleasure. It fitted, perfectly. Fabulous, soft feeling.
Emma took the other and put it on. And for a moment, she just watched her feet inside the shoes, savouring the feeling of broken virginity. This moment could only happen once.
She stood up.
The heels so high worked their miracle. Forcing her back straight, the calfs sharply shaped, her hips protruding forward and the arch of her feet so tensed that you just waited for the snap. And yet, the shoes felt soft and comfortable, like standing on a cloud. Emma walked slowly towards the huge mirror. Her hips swayed in a way that Emma knew would drive any man crazy. Nothing can beat a 4 incher. Not a thing.
And under this sweet, delicious moment was the sharp bitter envy of the personal shopper. Emma smiled to the mirror. ”Put it on the credit card.”
There wasn’t many people in this earth whom Emma Frost considered as friends. Frankly, those people could be counted with one hand.
One of them was her personal shopper. Sure, they weren’t friends as such, but they had bonded. Not over the normal friendship things, like secrets or feelings or love or hate. No. They shared something more valuable than that.
Shoes.
Emma saw herself as a perfection. Hell, she had paid a lot to be a perfection. And that perfection should be adorned and lavished. Most importantly, that perfection should always walk above others. To that end, one needed shoes.
Not any shoes, mind you. Only the best kind. Only the holy Grail of shoes. The Blahniks.
And her dearest friend made that happen with a religious care.
”Ms. Frost. Exciting day, don’t you think?” The shopper smiled and waited Emma to be seated. Then the shopper walked outside the room and brought with her a white box with heavy black letters.
”Here they are. You are the first to even see these, as I promised.” With a quick sweep through the shoppers mind Emma made sure that this was the case. Only once the shopper had touched the shoes meant to Emma but after a quick lesson she never tried to do that again. She would rather cut her own hand than touch another pair of Emma’s shoes.
Such are the basics of a working friendship.
The shopper placed the box to the glass table in front of Emma and stepped back. There were waves of anticipation coming from her, no need to even use telepathy to feel that. There was a delicious tingling feeling somewhere deep inside.
This was so much better than sex.
Emma opened the box and carefully removed the silk paper wrappings over the delicate things. She lifted the other from it’s resting place and placed it on the table. The shopper gasped and it took Emma some amount of self control not to do the same.
”The man is a genius.” Shopper said with hushed voice when Emma lifted the other shoe next to the first. Like suddenly the world seemed brighter, just because this pair of shoes existed.
Quickly Emma stripped her feet bare from the silk stockings and a pair of Prada’s. She took the right shoe and slowly slipped her foot inside. What a pleasure. It fitted, perfectly. Fabulous, soft feeling.
Emma took the other and put it on. And for a moment, she just watched her feet inside the shoes, savouring the feeling of broken virginity. This moment could only happen once.
She stood up.
The heels so high worked their miracle. Forcing her back straight, the calfs sharply shaped, her hips protruding forward and the arch of her feet so tensed that you just waited for the snap. And yet, the shoes felt soft and comfortable, like standing on a cloud. Emma walked slowly towards the huge mirror. Her hips swayed in a way that Emma knew would drive any man crazy. Nothing can beat a 4 incher. Not a thing.
And under this sweet, delicious moment was the sharp bitter envy of the personal shopper. Emma smiled to the mirror. ”Put it on the credit card.”