Guest Story: The Tragic Shoes - Part I

This is the tragic romance story about a girl and her shoes. Serafina is a gangster girl with a lot territory under her control. Alexis is her rival who has very little territory but some pretty remarkable shoes. Only one hitch: the shoes are too small for Serafina's feet. What's a gangster girl to do?

The Tragic Shoes – Part I of III

“Try the pasta primavera. It’s delicioso!” I was hand-feeding Serafina, the leader of the Loco Mucho Loco Senoritas. We were tucked away in a dark back office of a romantic little hideaway on the edges of the warehouse district. To enhance the mood, and because the power had been suspended years ago, our comfy dining room was candlelit only. The flickering lights made our shadows dance across the walls while I presented sumptuous course after sumptuous course to my adversary.

Serafina closed her eyes and momentarily slipped into a dreamworld with each heavenly bite. “Where did you learn to cook so well, Alexis? This food is fantastic.”

In the middle of the third course, Serafina had commenced a serious game of aggressive footsy underneath the table. This kind of foreplay was quite common before the difficult negotiating began. Later in the evening we could get down to the drab details regarding the turf boundaries between the Senoritas and the Golema Goth Girls. I always find oral consumption and lovemaking to be essential prerequisites to any act of diplomacy.

“In my spare time, when I am healing from injuries, I like to watch the Cooking Channel. You would not believe how many ways you can use bacon. Like, in the pudding I made for dessert. I’ve got to confess, I’m a bit of an Iron Chef addict.”

“Mmmm,” she said. “Shovel some more of that Caramelized Gnocchi my way, Sister.”

I happily complied with Serafina’s wish, though it came across as more of an order. I have a very sensual way of hand-feeding a girl. Be very gentle with the fork. Let her slide the morsel off the edge of the utensil delicately. Follow-up by dabbing affectionately at her face with a white linen napkin. If the napkin fails to get every spot on the face, complete the cleanup with long strokes of the tongue.

“What were we talking about, again?” She asked as I caressed her chin with my lips.

“The wharves. We were going to talk about what we should do with the wharves.” Her errant left foot was casually running its way up my right thigh, coming dangerously near to my womanliness. I could feel her toes wiggling inside of her pantyhose as she inched her way ever closer.

“Yes, that’s right. Oooh, the wharves seem miles and miles away right now,” she said in her dreamy, semi-erotic condition.

“And yet, they are right outside our door.”

“More linguini, please. You know how I like it.”

I moved the white casserole dish of lamb linguini over to her side of the table and lifted the cover. Fragrant steam wafted out of the dish and intertwined with the candle smoke to create an enchanting haze.

“Try the wine,” I said, filling her tall crystal to near the top. I poured myself a much daintier serving. We made a toast to all the victims we had broken, especially the ones who hadn’t fully recovered, and tossed back our glasses of Domaine Clarendon ’98. I paused to relish the flavor, cavalierly putting my boots up on the table.

“Wanna see a cool trick?” I said.

 “Sure,” she said in a deep simmering voice brimming with glimmers of expectations yearning to be fulfilled.

I leaned over and very slow and salaciously began unzipping my boot. First the right one, using just my teeth and then the left one using only my toes. I kicked the boots to the floor, revealing my long, soft feet and exquisite, imported, Milanese nylon stockings. Serafina giggled with giddiness. Is it possible to have curvaceous feet? I think so.

“Wait, it gets better.” Using my big toe and index toe of my right foot, I picked up Serafina’s fork and spooled a bite-sized serving of linguini.

Serafina squealed with joy. “You’re so talented, Alexis. How do you do it?”

“I learned this trick while I was healing from a minor kerfuffle with the Banshee Biker Babes. Fantastic story that I will tragically abbreviate: They broke both my hands and legs. Good fortune being on my side, they managed nothing more than to break both of my ankles, leaving the rest of my gams undamaged.”

I maneuvered the forkful of linguini past Serafina’s plump, glistening lips. She clenched down lightly and erotically slurped the long noodles with orgasmic pleasure.

“During those brief months of rehabilitation, I became quite talented with my feet, even though both of them were encased in short, plaster leg casts. How else is a girl supposed to feed herself?” Serafina grinned devilishly. “If you’re good, I’ll show you what else I can do with my toes.”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m very, very good.”

Clutching the fork with my right foot, I grabbed a fresh linen napkin with my left foot, using it to wipe away the creamy garlic sauce that I had clumsily smeared all over Serafina’s lovely brown-toned face. “Did I mention that I am ambidextrous?”

“You have so many talents. I plan on discovering them all.”

She finished another toe-fed serving of linguini and I dutifully cleaned her face again. “More wine?” I offered.

“Please.” As I filled our crystals, Serafina paused for reflection. “You know, Alexis, I’ve learned so much about you tonight. Before I arrived here, I was certain you were planning something devious.”

“Devious?” I was overcome with incredulity as I lightly tipped the glass of wine to her lips, holding the stem between my toes. “Serafina,” I explained, “we’re two girl gangster generals. Equals in war, but equals in the playful, poppy fields of peace, as well. We’ve developed a bond of trust between us. A serious bond of trust.” I patted at the red wine that had dribbled down her chin. “You know, there are no secrets harbored between us. Everything is out on the table.”

“Lovely words to hear, Alexis. As I was positively certain, you sneaked something of a narcotic nature into the wine.”

I was stunned, and made no effort to hide my hurt feelings.

“Don’t feign surprise on me, lover. I didn’t rise to this dizzying station without a little dash of paranoia. Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t use a fatal amount, and risk starting a war, but probably a small enough amount to knock me unconscious.”

“Serafina, I would never…”

“Of course, you wouldn’t, dear Alexis. But, a girl in my position must take every precaution. That is why I switched wine glasses with you, while you were preoccupied removing your remarkably fashionable boots.”

Color and confidence drained from my face. My right leg crashed to the floor. “You…switched…?” I couldn’t even finish my sentence.

“Horrible, I should think that way, isn’t it? But then I thought: the wine? That would be too obvious. Perhaps, I should switch the plates.”

“The…the…plates?” I was growing unsteady, a little bit wobbly. Blood was rushing out of my head. My left leg slid off the table.

“And the flatware. Because I believe you did say at the beginning of the evening, ‘what’s mine is yours. Mi casa es su casa.’ And naturally, I returned your generous gesture.”

“You returned it?” I said weakly, my knees shaking.

“Share and share alike, right Alexis? I even exchanged the after-dinner mints. Everything you gave to me, I returned to you.”

I felt woozy. One eye was starting to droop. “The napkins too?”

“Uurp!” Serafina nearly gagged on her wine. “Napkins? What do you mean?”

I sat up in my chair. “The napkin that I dipped in chloral hydrate…a potent version that can be absorbed through the skin? You know, the napkin I’ve been cleaning you with for most of the night?”

“But, but….” Serafina’s lovely brown face was getting paler by the second. “You touched that napkin yourself. You would have absorbed anything on it.”

“Oh yes,” I agreed. “You’re right, of course. I held the napkin between my toes—my nylon-covered toes.”

“That’s right, porous nylon.” Serafina’s eyes started to swim in their sockets.

“That would be the nylons that I treated last night with Airidion IV. Great stuff. Industrial repellent. Repels water, grease, oil, gasoline, and oh, chloral hydrate solution. You’re so observant, Serafina.”

Slowly, Serafina’s lids grew very heavy, and the glass of wine she had held so confidently in her hand, tumbled onto the table, making a large, dark, red stain in the middle of the white cloth.

“Careful,” I chided. “I expect you to be able to hold your liquor.”

“I…hate…you…you…conniving…cuuuunnntt...zzzzzz.”