That night I thought of thatwoman and what she was wearing, and I stroked myself until my elbowhurt.From then on, I was obsessed. My penis twitched a... the sight of highheels. In public, it was the first thing I noticed about a woman.Girls my own age were still wearing flats, I only cared about women'sshoes. Their legs in stockings or pantyhose, skirts and dresses. Iloved them. I loved long boots and short skirts. I loved strappysandals and flowy sundresses. I loved tight pencil skirts. The one she'd worn on their wedding night.This was not good, a boozy voice inside him slurred.The only slightly less slurred voice issuing from his mouth said, "Where did you get that?" This nightgown? Mrs. Steve give me. Is pretty, no?" No," he said. "I mean, yes. I mean, no, we shouldn't be doing this." The "this" at that moment was Zosia straddling him, rubbing her sex into his crotch.It was only his extreme inebriation that saved him from the inevitable reaction. But that drunkenness also. More

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