Boring and Unadventurous

Part Three
Adventures in High Heels
 

 

On Friday evening when Laura got home and sat eating her dinner, she thought about Mike and Natasha. If his plan was working, she’d be in the handcuffs right now and maybe he’d be offering her tender morsels on his fork at their dinner table. Laura wondered if that would be better than the rather dull Lasagne that she had in front of her, even if she could eat it with her own hands. Her thoughts wandered to sex, and bondage in particular. After dinner she spent the rest of the evening on the internet looking at images of bondage sex in all it endless varieties. Although it still made no sense to her, it did leave her feeling hornier than she felt for ages. “We think everyone’s a pervert.”  Mike and Ellen’s words came back to her. Maybe they were right.

 

The following morning, Saturday, Laura again found herself thinking about Natasha. According to Mike’s plan, she would be doing the housework right now with her hands cuffed behind her back. How awkward and downright stupid was that? But then, “the mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”. The phrase kept rattling around in Laura’s head. She tried to push it aside as she got on with her own mundane tasks, the next one of which was to get groceries from the small supermarket that was about five minutes walk from her flat. Dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and flat pumps, with only her hair and Tiffany’s short leather jacket adding any hint of style to her otherwise rather drab ensemble, she descended the stairs and headed out into the street below. She had gone no more than forty yards when something in the window of The Dogs Trust charity shop caught her eye and she stopped to look closer.  “The mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”.

 

They were purple. Or perhaps more of a pale violet colour. They had the name ‘Christian Louboutin’ written on the inside soles along with the size ‘UK39’. The stiletto heels had to be at least six inches high, possibly more, and Laura wondered if the two inch or so platform under the toes would conspire with the heels and make them easier or harder to walk in.

 

“One way to find out,” she said quietly to herself as a plan for a little adventure came to her.

 

“I can’t imagine how you youngsters manage to walk in things like these,” said the old lady in the shop when Laura asked to try on the Louboutins.

 

“Well we have to suffer to be beautiful,” she replied as her feet tasted the luxuriant lining of the shoes and she stood, steadying herself against the counter. “They seem to fit. How much for them?”

 

“Well they look to have never really been worn. And they are very glamorous. Would twenty pounds be alright?”

 

“Twenty is fine,” replied Laura and she opened her purse to pay the lady. “I’m just going to wear them now actually.” She stuffed her flat pumps into her shopping bag.

 

“Thank you my dear. You will be careful though, won’t you? I don’t want you hurting yourself in the street.”

 

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” replied Laura confidently, although inside she felt way less than confident of her ability not to hurt herself in the shoes. True, her new Pradas had heels, but only three and a half inches, and they weren’t stilettos. The beautiful contraptions currently adorning her feet were another world entirely, but she managed to totter out of the shop without too much trouble.

 

“The mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”.

 

“Right then,” Laura thought. “It’s normally only about five minutes to the supermarket. If I can’t manage it I can change into my pumps, but that will be a bit humiliating in a busy street. Once I’m there, I can lean on a trolley while I do the shopping, and then five minutes back home, carrying shopping bags. Phew. C’mon Laura, life makeover time. Let’s see if you can do this.”

 

Laura hadn’t gone far when she realised the size of the mountain she given herself to climb. The shoes were incredibly difficult to walk in and the slightest bump or crack in the pavement nearly sent her tumbling. She felt stupid and clumsy, tottering along, waving her arms around to keep her balance and desperately trying to avoid the gaps between the pavement slabs. She was on the verge of giving up when something clicked and she found her technique. One foot directly in front of the other, heel and toe to touch down at the same moment, keep the ankle straight and then glide onto the front foot. Suddenly it seemed like she might make it. She noted a bus stop with a bench seat that offered a rest, but she decided to push on. By the time she got to the supermarket she was starting to feel a little cool, and even sexy in her heels. But her feet and ankles were objecting most strongly, and it was with some relief that she took a trolley and perched herself on its handlebar to take some weight off her legs. She scooted round the shop like a dodgem car, filling her trolley as she went. She discovered a new challenge in keeping her balance while she crouched down to pick items from the lower shelves, but managed to avoid ending up in a heap on the floor. It was with some reluctance that, after paying for her shopping, she returned her Zimmer trolley and set off for home, weighed down by several full grocery bags.

 

With her new found technique, Laura was making good progress towards home but any joy she gleaned from feeling sexy was offset several times over by the pain in her feet. The flat pumps, now buried at the bottom of one of the full grocery bags were calling to her, but she remembered the bus stop and its bench seat. If she could hold out that far then she could rest and possibly change shoes with a little dignity. As she rounded a corner and saw the bus stop her spirits lifted briefly, only to be dashed when she saw that it was occupied by a drunken tramp who was shouting obscenities at passers-by. There was nothing for it but to push on for home.

 

She walked on and her feet complained, but the balance of feelings was starting to shift within her. She noticed a couple of men looking at, maybe even admiring her. She became aware of just how loudly her heels tapped at the pavement. Instinctively she stretched her back and lifted her head a little. She felt good. She felt sexy.

 

Laura’s new found confidence came crashing down though when, just yards from home, she was undone by a cracked paving slab that grabbed one of her stilettoes and sent her tumbling. She managed to stagger and recover her balance, avoiding ending up sprawled on the pavement, but in doing so she lost her grip on one of her bags which fell, scattering her groceries on the ground.

 

“Fuck and shit,” she muttered as she turned to begin the humiliating task of recovering her shopping, but then to her delight a young man rushed over, and had her bag refilled in an instant.

 

“There you go love,” he chirped as he handed Laura her bag. “Dodgy pavement’s not made for shoes like yours.” And with that, he continued on his way.

 

Laura watched him go and then turned for home with a huge grin on her face. She made it to her door without further incident and climbed the stairs to her flat with great care and great satisfaction. Mission accomplished.

 

She made herself coffee and put her shopping away, still wearing the shoes. Her aching feet were truly playing second fiddle to her vanity and pride. And horniness. Yes, she was horny.

 

“The mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”.

 

Laura hadn’t felt this hot in ages. She flopped down onto her sofa, drank some coffee and slipped her hand into her jeans. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt the need to masturbate. It was a long time ago for sure. At least three boyfriends ago. What she needed now wasn’t a boyfriend though. It was a vibrator, preferably a big, powerful one like Tiffany had had when they shared a flat at uni. But alas it was one thing that she did not currently own. That needed to change. She put down her coffee and reached for her laptop, her other hand remaining firmly inside her jeans. Before long, the internet revealed details of Ann Summers, the home of the ‘Rampant Rabbit’ range.

 

“From big ones to small ones and throbbing ones to shaking ones, you’re guaranteed to find unforgettable pleasure when you choose one of the world famous Rampant Rabbits. Made from the highest quality materials and with incredible vibrating functions, all of our Rabbit vibrators are designed with your pleasure in mind. They stimulate your clitoris and inside simultaneously, and are a must have for every woman’s sex toy collection.”

 

“Collection?” thought Laura. “I haven’t even got one.”

 

She read on. There were no less than eighteen different models with intriguing names like “The Little Shaking One”, “The Silicone One” and even one that apparently had “Moregasm” technology. As she browsed, she finally kicked off her shoes and enjoyed the warm, tired and satisfying ache that spread up her legs form her feet. She suddenly thought of Natasha again. If Mike’s plan was proceeding, they would be shoe shopping about now, and Natasha would still be in her handcuffs. Laura wondered if she had her Jimmy Choos yet.

 

A plan jumped into Laura’s head. There was an Ann Summers shop up in town. She would pop into town on the train and buy herself a Rampant Rabbit. And she would do it in her new shoes. How was that for a sexy adventure! But could she do it? It was normally about ten minutes walk to the tiny, local station. There was a seat on the platform, but after the experience with the tramp at the bus stop, that couldn’t be relied on. She would however get a seat on the train for the fifteen minutes it took to get to the Central Station in town. Where was the shop though? She clicked on the store finder and pulled up the street plan. It looked about fifteen minutes walk in normal shoes. That looked a challenge, but there were lots of cafés in town where she could rest if she really needed to. Buy a Rabbit and then fifteen minutes walk back to the station. A lot more than she’d done that morning and her feet were still tired. But then this morning she’d also walked round the supermarket in the shoes, and she had some walking technique worked out now. Logic and realism were pushed aside as Laura was swept along on a wave of excitement. She was going to do it. But first she had to tart herself up a bit.

 

“No point in going out to be sexy if your clothes look like a sack of potatoes,” she told herself. She did her make-up as Tiffany had showed her, put on her best jeans and a black and white striped tee shirt, but her hair looked like it needed some attention. With no time to wash it, dry it and style it, she threw on her black beret which went surprisingly well with the tee shirt and masked the messy hair nicely, giving a chic, French look. The finishing touch was some extra purple eye-shadow to match the shoes, and with Tiffany’s short leather jacket, she eyed herself up in the mirror. It was a shame that the jeans were still rather baggy, but they were the best she had and would have to do. She was ready for the off, buzzing with excitement.

 

The walk to the station went pretty well. There were a few moments when uneven slabs and drain covers conspired against her, but she made it intact and with five minutes to spare. Her feet were pretty sore though and Laura wondered if it was a bad idea to have deliberately not brought some sensible shoes with her as back up. But then that wouldn’t have been nearly so exciting. She took a seat on the platform, stretched her legs in front of her and admired her feet in the shoes. She noticed a woman sitting along the platform looking at her shoes and she felt cool and sexy. Laura was enjoying herself.

 

The train arrived and Laura negotiated the step on board successfully and sat down for the short journey. Under the table, she slipped her feet out of the shoes and wiggled her ankles to ease the aching. The train whisked her into town and she got off at the Central Station where things became unexpectedly challenging.

 

There was a long stairway down from the platform to the station exit. Laura was expecting this to be easy as it had an escalator, but today it was out of order so she had to negotiate the stairs. This was slow, tiring and embarrassing as she could not do it fluidly or sexily, and she felt stupid as people watched her struggling in her ridiculous shoes. She made it though, with much help from the handrail and then headed out through the main exit. But here again it seemed that the Gods were against her. Outside the station was a large pedestrianized plaza, surfaced with block-paving. Small concrete blocks, about eight inches by four, each with a pretty bevel cut into its edges. The resulting network of ‘V’ grooves would have posed no problem at all to almost any footwear that didn’t have heels less than a quarter inch across, but of course Laura’s were well less than that. And the blocks were so small that, unlike paving slabs, she couldn’t easily avoid treading on the joints. And so she waddled unsteadily across the plaza, continually being thrown left and right as her heels dropped into the grooves. If they hadn’t been so high she could perhaps have just walked on her toes for the two hundred or so yards needed to reach the relative safety of an asphalt pavement, but with the tops of her feet already being pretty much vertical that wasn’t really an option.

 

Laura felt tired and totally humiliated by the time she eventually made it across the accursed blocks, but she knew deep down that this was all part of the adventure she had undertaken, and somewhere within her a fire was starting to burn. And the shoes were the perfect arbiter of this adventure, for when she got it right and strutted along with style she was rewarded by feeling special, sexy and cool. But when she got it wrong and staggered awkwardly, humiliation and embarrassment was her penance. Was it really dull, little Laura that was living this exhilarating adventure?

 

Back on a smooth pavement, Laura found her rhythm and began to stretch herself up and walk tall. ‘Cop cop cop’ went the heels on the hard surface, each sound making her feel ever more stylish and sexy. And horny.

 

“Ann Summers had better not be out of stock of Rampant Rabbits. I’m seriously going to need one when I get home,” she thought to herself. “And batteries. Don’t forget batteries.”

 

Her feet were getting very sore, but buoyed up by her feelings of self-confidence and arousal she made good progress towards her goal, but on rounding the last corner and looking into the street where the shop was located, Laura’s heart sank. The street had been pedestrianized and stretching into the distance was more of the awful block-paving. She couldn’t manage any distance over the horrible surface. But then she noticed that along one side, the old, slabbed pavement had been retained, and she only had cross to that side and she could avoid the dreaded blocks. She waddled across the street and headed along the old pavement. The slabs were a bit rough and uneven. She had to concentrate and look down at where she was putting her feet, and this somewhat spoiled things as she couldn’t walk tall and look around to see if she was being noticed by anyone.

 

“I’m going to be a bloody expert on paving surfaces by the time I get through with this,” she though dryly to herself.

 

But then there it was. Queens Arcade. And inside would be the Ann Summers shop.

 

The smooth, shiny floor of the arcade was a joy for Laura’s tired feet to walk on after the rougher surfaces outside. The sound of her heels echoed off the walls, seeming to shout out “Look at me. Look how sexy I am,” to the passing shoppers. Soon she was standing in front of her destination, sizing up the window display of lingerie, fancy dress and nightware. The objects of Laura’s quest were not to be seen in the window though. She found them tucked discretely away towards the back of the shop behind a partition. Any fears Laura had about there being nothing in stock were completely unfounded. There was a whole wall of sex toys, and over half of them were vibrators.

 

“Dammit,” thought Laura. “I wish I’d done a bit more research and had some idea what to get. How am I supposed to choose one out of this lot?”

 

Fortunately a sales assistant spotted Laura looking a bit bedazzled and came to her rescue. She was very good and when Laura left the shop, not only was she now the proud owner of a Rampant Rabbit – ‘The Midnight One’, £29.60, but also a pack of sex toy cleaning wipes, £6.49, a tube of Liquid Satin Multi-Lube, £8.00, a patent finish Rabbit Vibe bag, £9.95, two packs of AAA batteries, £2.40 each, and two pairs of high shine, multi-function, hold-up or suspended stockings, £6.00 a pair.  The stockings were an afterthought, but they were half price so why not? She was also the owner of two very tired feet, having stood in the shop for some considerable time while the assistant explained the choice of vibes and then piled on the accessories. Laura decided that a rest in a café and a cup of coffee would be a good idea en-route back to the station.

 

She set off with her ‘cop, cop’ soundtrack across the polished floor of the arcade. The smooth surface was easy to walk on and freed from having to watch for cracks and bumps that might send her tumbling, Laura began to look about her. Almost immediately she spotted her own reflection in a shop window and was stunned by what she saw. Of course she had looked in her mirror before coming out, but to see herself now, out and about, looking chic, and tall, and sexy was quite a surprise to her. Every part of her seemed to be amplified by the shoes: her back straighter, her bum rounder, her bust higher. Somehow even her hair seemed longer. Of course it didn’t really make sense; they were only shoes after all, but that’s how it seemed to Laura and she wasn’t going argue with herself about it. Just one thing seemed to spoil the image: the jeans. They might have been her best pair, but they really didn’t fit all that well, looking baggy and letting the team down a bit.

 

“The mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”.

 

“Right then, extra credit,” Laura said to herself. “How about new vibrator AND new jeans, all achieved in six inch heels. Still not as adventurous as shoe shopping in handcuffs, but then Natasha has Mike with her for moral support.”

 

Laura turned and headed back deeper into the arcade, looking for a shop that might have some sexy jeans. She found them in House of Fraser. Paige Hoxton Skinny Ankle Zip Jeans in Dark-wash Denim. They were so skinny that the ankle zip wasn’t just for show: her feet would never go through them unless the zips were undone.  It took Laura some considerable time and effort to wriggle into the jeans in the fitting room, and she wasn’t really sure she could get back out of them without assistance. And boy were they snug around her bum and waist. And crotch. She slipped her feet back into the shoes and sized herself up in the mirror.

 

“Fuckin’ Hell Laura, you look like a supermodel,” she chortled and slipped her jacket back on, noting the curve of her bum. “£106 for a pair of jeans. I must be mad, but there’s no way I’m not having these. And they’re reduced from £215! Seriously?”

 

“Can I take these and just wear them now?” Laura asked the assistant beside the fitting rooms. “I’m not sure I can get out of them anyway.”

 

“No problem, the lady at the checkout will cut the tags off for you when you pay. They look great on you with those shoes,” the assistant replied.

 

“Thanks.”

 

After flexing her credit card at the checkout, Laura was once again strutting across the smooth floor of the arcade. Her feet hurt but it didn’t matter. She was floating along on a cushion of ego and newly found self-belief. She was looking around, seeking out reflections of herself in windows. Each one seemed to ratchet up her pride in herself. Why had she spent so many years feeling dowdy and dull when she could have been feeling like this? She was going to be making some changes to her life now for sure.

 

As she walked, Laura noticed something else that was adding to the enjoyment of her little shopping adventure. The tight jeans that were tight through her crotch were moving as she walked. They were rubbing, and had pushed her panties up between her cheeks and also between her labia. And it was good.

 

“I don’t think I need no Rampant Rabbit to get off today. I’m going to cum just walking to the station,” she thought.

 

She exited the arcade and her ego was dropped down a notch by the rough pavement which prevented her strutting along so fluently. She retraced her steps and wobbled back across the block-paved road at the end of the street. The sight of a Costa reminded her of her plan to have a rest, and brought the pain in her feet rather into focus. It was definitely time for a break. She wandered in, bought a cappuccino and sat down at a table. As she sat, the crotch of her jeans pulled tighter and made her gasp. The famous café scene from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ jumped into her mind and she thought for a moment that she might not be able to avoid recreating that scene right here in Costa, but the moment passed without the other customers deciding to “have what she’s having”.

 

Laura sat, sipped her cappuccino and enjoyed the blissful feeling of relief that radiated up from her feet and ankles, while her hormones calmed down to a manageable level. Had she already made it home, she could have enjoyed her aching limbs as a hill-walker enjoys their fatigue after a long hike, but Laura was very aware that this was only a temporary reprieve, an advance basecamp. And the dreaded North Face of the approach to the station with its dastardly block-paving still lay ahead. She was not looking forward to another humiliating episode of wobbling across that sea of grooves that would conspire to send her tumbling.

 

“Sexy shoes are only sexy if you can walk in them with style and elegance,” she thought to herself. “If you can’t pull it off, you just look stupid, clumsy and hopelessly out of your depth. Not sexy at all.”

 

She thought about other options. She could take her shoes off and walk across the paving barefoot. A bit embarrassing, but not as humiliating as the alternative. But it would feel like cheating. She might just as well call a taxi and have it pick her up right here outside Costa. No, it was the paving in the shoes or failure in her adventure. But then Laura remembered there was a car-park behind the station which had its own small entrance. The car-park wasn’t very salubrious and so was unlikely to have been tarted up with fancy paving. It probably had some dodgy slabs and cracked tarmac, but surely that would be easier than the nightmare of the front entrance. The problem was it would mean more distance to walk. Laura pulled out her phone and opened up the maps ap. Carefully she checked the route to the rear station entrance which required a detour to reach the nearest bridge under the railway. In all it amounted to around eight hundred extra yards. About two thousand, four hundred extra steps with her reduced stride. That felt like a lot in six inch heels. She sipped her cappuccino very slowly, trying to put off the moment when she would have to get up and go.

 

Thinking big thoughts of what she was going to do to herself with her new ‘The Midnight One’ when she got home, Laura roused herself from Costa and headed towards the station. She hadn’t decided which route to take yet. She would choose between distance and pain, or humiliation and possible injury when she got closer. Once she got her rhythm going on the smooth asphalt pavement, the sight of herself in some shop windows and the rubbing of the jeans began to carry her along nicely. She soon reached the junction that was the decision point and seeing the thronging crowd wandering easily over the block-paved area in front of the station, she decided on the long route, the pain in her feet not being all that bad. She walked on, leaving the bustle of the shops and bars behind her, towards the railway and the bridge under it. She was seriously tired when she made it to the back entrance to the station, but relieved not have had to face the Nemesis that guarded the other entrance.

 

“Nearly there. And the ‘up’ escalator to the platform is even working,” Laura thought as she pushed her ticket through the turnstile and headed into the station.

 

Laura hardly thought about the bottom of the escalator. She just timed her step, grabbed the handrail and she was on. As she travelled upwards though, a nagging worry began in her mind.

 

“How am I going to get off this thing? I'll have to time my step precisely as I can’t take a long stride. If I try to step too far and end up on my heel, without my toe on the ground I’ll be going bye-bye. And there’ll be no handrail to grab.”

 

As the end of the escalator drew nearer, Laura became more and more worried about the how she was going to get off it. She held the handrail tightly and lifted one foot, trying to be ready, but not really knowing what was going happen. She watched the end approach and tensed.

 

“Wait. Wait till the very end,” she muttered.

 

It wasn’t until she felt the metal ramp start to scoop her platformed toe off the step that she made her move. As the foot she was standing on promptly stopped, her motion carried her forward and she got her other foot down flat. Such was the speed of the escalator that she actually had to run two strides to slow down, regain her balance and come to stop, standing on the concrete platform.

 

“Nicely done Love.” A woman’s voice came from behind her on the escalator. “I was wondering how you would manage that in those shoes,” she said with a smile as she passed Laura and headed off to another platform.

 

Laura was just relieved to still be standing upright, but as she recovered her composure, she felt a huge surge of pride wash through her. Her shoes must have been right about eye height to the woman behind her on the escalator. She looked at them, and she was impressed. Impressed enough to comment. Maybe she was even jealous. How cool was that?

 

A bench seat on the platform was a welcome sight for Laura. There was a train every quarter hour so she hadn’t bothered to check the time. The electronic sign said the next one was in just four minutes. A nice, comfy seat on the train and then a little walk to the flat. And then ‘The Midnight One’. Laura could hardly wait, the crotch of her jeans having taken its toll on her hormones during the extended walk to the station.

 

“The mundane plus a little kinky restraint equals sexual adventure”.

 

 

 

It took Laura three attempts to get the batteries into ‘The Midnight One’ the right way round, such was her flustered, horny state when she eventually made it home. It then took a terribly frustrating amount of time to wiggle her ultra-tight jeans far enough down her thighs to be able to get the vibrator under her panties and into herself. It slipped into her soaking opening with virtually no resistance and for a moment she wondered if she should have bought a larger one. But the effects began to show almost before it was in. Laura sank to her knees, her mouth open in a silent scream and her eyes wide, but unseeing. She continued downwards until she was writhing on her living room carpet. She rolled on her back with her feet tucked up to her bottom and banged her hands on the floor till they hurt. It didn’t last long, but what it lacked in duration, it made up for in intensity, and it reduced her to a panting, sweating heap beside her dining table. She lay there trying to recover her senses, not even having the energy to switch off the thing inside her. ‘The Midnight One’ continued buzzing away happily and slowly and steadily it lifted Laura from her post-orgasmic hollow and sent her into fits of writhing again.

 

After number two, Laura reached into her crotch and switched off the vibrator. There was only so much of a good thing she could take without a break. She lay there wondering what she must look like with her jeans and pants pulled down, the black end of ‘The Midnight One’ sticking out of her, its rabbit like, forked wand resting on her clit, her tart’s shoes discarded beside her, and a look of sexual exhaustion on her face. She wondered what Tiffany would think if she walked in now.

 

Laura thought about her friend. She wanted her here. Now. Screw all the stuff about not knowing who she was, she knew for sure what she wanted. She wanted Tiffany. She wanted to make love to her. She thought about calling, but she knew Tiffany would still be at work, probably with her phone switched off. So she texted.

 

WHAT R U DOING TONIGHT?

 

She was a little surprised when a reply came back straight away.

 

NOTHING I CAN’T CANCEL 4 U

 

GOOD. MY TONGUE, YOUR CLITORIS, MY PLACE, ASAP.

 

OOH. WHAT HAPENED TO THE GIRL WHO DIDN’T WANT TO LEAD ME ON? DO I HAVE TIME TO GO HOME AND SHOWER FIRST?

 

COME DIRTY. AND COME HUNGRY TOO. I’M COOKING

 

I’M SALIVATING FROM BOTH ENDS. C U ABOUT SIX.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning Laura was awake early. She lay in bed watching the first rays of the dawn sun illuminate the shape created in the duvet by the sleeping body of her friend beneath. This time it felt right. There was none of the doubt, the fear or the shame that she had felt after the last time she had been in bed with Tiffany. This time she had not been the passive partner, but a full participant, even leader in the events that had happened the night before and the events that would probably resume when Tiffany awoke. The sun crept slowly across the bed and onto Tiffany’s eyes which flickered open and then squinted at the glare.

 

“Haven’t you got any curtains?” she grumbled.

 

“Yes, but to use them would be to deny the neighbours their gossip.”

 

“Mmmm. What are you doing awake this early? It’s Sunday. Please tell me you’re not going to work.”

 

“No. A whole weekend off. And a whole Sunday with you?”

 

“Mmmm. Possibly. What are you going treat me to today? Another display of wanton debauchery?”

 

“I thought we could go shopping.”

 

“Shopping? Didn’t you get enough of that yesterday?”

 

“I didn’t buy any underwear. The last time we were in bed together you said I need new underwear.”

 

“I did. You do.”

 

“So you could show me what to get. And I could maybe get something for you too.”

 

“Mmmm. I like expensive underwear.”

 

“That’s no problem. I’m a highly paid executive now you know.”

 

“Hmmm. Underwear shopping. I can think of worse ways to spend a Sunday. You going to wear the shoes again?”

 

“Oh, I can’t do them again. My ankles’ll give out. And there’s those sodding blocks by the station to get past.”

 

“Not if we drove. I haven’t been in this sports car of yours yet.”

 

“Hmmm. I’d have to wear some boring shoes to drive in and we’d have to park right in the centre of town.”

 

“NCP right next to St David’s Centre. Car to shops, two hundred yards at most.”

 

“All right, I’ll wear the shoes.”

 

“Good. Now wrap yourself round me and let me snooze till it’s a sociable hour for fanny play.”

 

“Isn’t it sociable now?”

 

“No it’s sodding well not. What’s got into you Laura? For years you’ve dithered about, not knowing what you want, and suddenly you’re some kind of sex maniac. I hardly got through your door last night before you jumped on me. And now, shit it’s not even seven o’clock and you’re wanting to go again? Is this a one-off, or is it going to happen every time you buy a vibrator?”

 

“Well I think I’m finally working myself out now. I’m not a weirdo or a freak, I think I’m just a bit bi-sexual.”

 

“You’re a bit bi-sexual? You’ve worked that out have you?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“So what are you going to work out next? That the sky might be a bit blue? Or that the sea might be a bit wet? Of course you’re bi-sexual. You’ve been bi-sexual for as long as I’ve known you and if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in a blanket of self-loathing you’d have realised long ago. Ten years I’ve been waiting for you to work out what shade of grey you are, and now you tell me that in all that time you’ve only got as far as realising you’re not black or white. Really Laura, you’re not the brightest cookie in the jar sometimes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Now look what you’ve done. I’m all awake now and it’s much too early and I’m grumpy. You better come and cuddle me back to sleep.”

 

“Mmmm, come here Grumpy. Sorry.”

 

“Mmmm.”

 

“Tiff?”

 

“What.”

 

“What did you mean by ‘every time I buy a vibrator’? Why would that happen more than once?”

 

“A girl needs a selection. You know, a small, powerful one for when she’s up-tight and needs to relax. A big one for when she’s got horny out in public and is already soft and wet when she gets home. An egg for wearing to brighten up boring parties.”

 

“Oh. How many have you got?”

 

“Last time I counted, sixteen. But I’ve bought two more since then.”

 

“Sixteen, no eighteen!”

 

“Such is the frustration of years of loving a woman who doesn’t know if she can love you back. Now stop thinking and snooze.”

 

 

 

 

It was almost lunchtime by the time Tiffany and Laura set off for their shopping trip. Tiffany insisted that Laura ‘s hair and make-up were all done properly and then proceeded to do her own too. It all took what to Laura seemed an awfully long time. The late winter sun that had woken Tiffany too early in the morning was continuing to shine and she almost whooped with joy as Laura pressed the button on the dashboard, and the MX5’s roof folded itself away into the boot.

 

“This car is fab Laura. I feel like we’re Thelma and Louise now,” she chortled as the wind lifted her ample blonde tresses. “This is a funny way to get to town though. Why are you going this way?”

 

“I often drive along here. I’m kinda hoping that someone… ooh, fuck, there he is. I’m going to pull over Tiff, and I might snog you. If I do, just go with flow ok?”

 

“Err, snog me? What’s…”

 

“No time to explain, just play along.”

 

Laura pulled the car over beside a bus stop where around ten people were standing, waiting for the bus.

 

“Hello Ryan,” she said loudly to a man in the queue. “Everybody, this is Ryan. This little shit broke up with me by sending me a text. Can you believe that? A fucking text. And worse than that, he wrote that I was too ‘boring and unadventurous’ for him. Well Ryan, just to show how ‘boring and unadventurous’ I really am, I went and got myself a new car. And some new hair. And since you men all seem to be little shits, I got myself a girlfriend too. Isn’t that right Tiff?”

 

Laura turned to Tiffany and moved to snog her. Tiffany, who had now worked out exactly what was going on, threw herself into the part with great gusto. She threw out her arms and took hold of Laura’s head by both ears and pulled Laura’s lips hard onto her own for a not entirely acted mega-snog. When they were done, Tiffany turned to the man in the bus queue whom Laura had been addressing.

 

“You broke with this one did you sonny? Mistake. Big mistake.”

 

“Goodbye Ryan,” said Laura with as much contempt as she could muster in her voice. “Have a thoroughly horrible life you little shit.” With that, she put the car into gear and started to pull away, desperately hoping she didn’t stall. Tiffany threw her cowboy-booted feet up onto the dashboard and waved her arms in the air. As she did so, her short skirt slipped up her thighs and exposed her stocking tops and a hint of suspender.

 

“Take me home Laura. I’m horny and I want to be tied up and spanked,” she shouted as they pulled away from the bus stop. As they drove out of the street, Laura looked to the sky and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever gods might be watching.

 

“Was I too much?” asked Tiffany when her laughter had died down.

 

“Spot on,” replied Laura. “Did you see the look on The Little Shit’s face?”

 

“I was kinda worried I might have shown a bit more that I intended when I put my feet up. My skirt rode up and, well I haven’t got any knickers on.”

 

“No knickers? Why? You expecting me to make a move on you, or is this all part of underwear shopping?”

 

“I have a rule. I never wear the same panties two days running. Have to have a clean pair every morning. And some horny bitch demanded I come over to her place without going home for an overnight bag first, so no clean panties this morning.”

 

“Jees, you could have borrowed some of mine.”

 

“Laura, when I’m going camping and need a tent to keep the rain off, or when I need something to keep my incontinence pad in place in the old folks home, then I’ll ask to borrow a pair of your panties. Until then, I’m fine like this.”

 

“Bloody cheeky bitch. You know what you said about tying you up and spanking you?”

 

“No!”

 

“What, never?”

 

“Maybe on your birthday. If you’re very lucky.”

 

 

They drove on into town and spent several hours shopping together. Laura was pleasantly surprised to find that sexy and stylish underwear didn’t have to mean tiny thongs and uncomfortable wired up bras. Rather than buying off-the-peg as she had always done, Tiffany took her to specialist lingerie shops where Laura was measured and fitted into the most comfy and beautiful bras she had ever worn, and Tiffany insisted that she should always have matching knickers for each bra. Laura flexed her credit card at no less than eight sets from the likes of Huit, Myla and Marie Meili, one of which even featured a matching suspender belt, a definite first for her. As they shopped, it quickly became clear that two consecutive days in the tortuous Louboutins was too much for Laura’s ankles, but fortunately help was at hand from a pair of Kurt Geiger boots which she saw in the window of Debenhams. They still had four inch heels, but were a lot easier to walk in than the six inch spikes that adorned the Louboutins. Tiffany suggested that some low cut or plunging neckline tops would make the most of Laura’s newly balcony-uplifted figure, but exposing the flesh much below her neck was still too much for Laura. Her years of acne and needing to be as covered as possible still held their grip somewhere deep inside her. They compromised on a couple of all-covering, but figure-hugging stretchy tops instead.

 

Eventually they were shopped out and as they ate an early dinner in Pizza Express, the still slightly awkward subject of where they were going to spend the night came up.

 

“I’ve got to go to Bristol again tomorrow,” said Laura through a mouthful of Calabrese, “so I’ll have to be away early, but if you want to stay at my place again I’ll give you a key so you can stay in bed and just go when it suits you.”

 

“No,” replied Tiffany. “I don’t want a key to your flat.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because having a key is only one step away from moving in.”

 

“Oh. And what would be so terrible about that? It’s not like we don’t know each other.”

 

“Well actually, it’s exactly like that. I used to know you Laura, but I’m not sure now.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well don’t misunderstand me, I think it’s wonderful that you’re finally shedding that shell of self-hatred you’ve been hiding in and getting some confidence in yourself, but I loved the old Laura, and you seem to be on a mission to bury her as deep underground as you can. You’re like a volcano going off and I don’t know who you’re going to be when the smoke and fire stops.”

 

“Oh God, Tiff. But I’m still me. A fancy hairdo and some new clothes doesn’t change a person.”

 

“No, but the person has changed because she now wants those things. And don’t be sorry. I still want to be your friend. And I still want to have sex with you. And I’ll help you with this transformation you’re going through as much as I can. I haven’t forgotten how you were always there for me when I was finding myself. But I can’t be your lover until I know who I’m loving. It nearly broke my heart when we didn’t make it together once before and I don’t want that again. I’m sure I will love the new you, but please don’t get rid of the old Laura completely.”

 

“Oh Tiff, I’m so sorry. I never stopped to think about that. Too full of trying to change myself. It was that fucking text The Little Shit sent me. ‘Boring and unadventurous’. And he was fucking right wasn’t he? I don’t want to be like that anymore. I just want to be the same old me, except an exciting and exotic version of me. I’m still the same underneath.”

 

“You were never boring to me. Unadventurous, yes, but never boring.”

 

“Would you settle for an ‘interesting and up-for-it’ Laura?”

 

“I’m sure I will, but I’d like to know her first.”

 

“Friends then, until I can settle at that. But I’m holding you to the sex bit.”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

“No, our pleasure. Ha Ha. Oh, my phone. I’ve got a text. Fuck, it’s from The Little Shit.”

 

LAURA. I MADE A MISTAKE. CAN WE TALK? RYAN.

 

“Oh Jesus Tiff, look at this.”

 

“Ha Ha. What’s he hoping for? A fucking miracle? Can I answer this for you?”

 

“Depends what you’re going to say.”

 

NO WE CAN’T TALK. MY TONGUE IS TOO BUSY HAVING AN ADVENTURE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND. YOU’RE THE BORING ONE NOW, ASSHOLE.

 

“I like it. Send it Tiff.”

 

“So after pizza, shall we go round to my place and you can model all that new underwear you just bought? And tomorrow you can get up and go whenever you want. My door doesn’t need a key to lock it.”

 

“Friends without keys isn’t so bad after all then.”