I pressed my thighs together,shivering uncontrollably as my shorts pulled, rubbed against me. Igasped again, nearly doubled over on the nearest table.... Distantly, Iheard shocked exclamations as a plate clattered to the floor. None ofthat mattered. I turned and rushed, stumbling, to the bathroom.Every step sent more tingles up my spine, prompted more gasps, as Istruggled desperately to focus. I threw open the door, collapsingagainst the sinks. I stared into the mirror. A wild blonde slut. “They were checking out your LEGS, not your shoes. I’m telling you, real men don’t care anything about shoes, except how easily they can be kicked off when you’re climbing into bed. Or how fast you can run in them when we’re chasing you.” Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. But I continue anyway. We danced for about an hour, and I had a few more drinks. After a while, my feet started to hurt and we decided to call it a night. He sits straight up. “What the hell! You spent $600 on a pair of shoes. More

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