Laurieheels

Now just remember,

The only way you could have too many pairs is if you run out of places to store your heels. But if you keep freeing up new storage, then the limit of too many is way up there.

Damn, PJ, I was hoping you and everyone else would be a fan of fiction! And fluff is an awful thing, so prevalent in writing, whether it be for books, television, movies... Grit works so much better. Besides, people are real, why can't characters be real? They're supposed to be people, too! Thank you for the complimnets. I hope to make a career of this one day... I know people will tell me not to quit my day job, but as I do not have one yet... I'll work on getting one to pay the bills.

Welcome back, Suzy! it is always nice to have another 'heels' to join in the discussions.

Content is just as important as code, right? Yes it is. A photo shoot can have challenges too, you know. I mean, a camera adds ten pounds, and that means having to pose to hide it!

All of my pictures go into the pictures section. I should consider outfit pictures for this thread at some point. Hrm...

Kitten heels arrive for your icon at post number 50. So you need to keep posting and going and then you'll have something with a thin heel. Of course, some will say they are not girly, or manly, just shoes of a certain style. But then, kitten heels seem dainty and fragile in a way, so... yeah. I hope you get there soon!

For those of you who have not been over to my sample section at http://freespace.virgin.net/jennys.page/laurie.htm I am going to include a bit of the story listed there.

The idea is that I will include a serial story on my part of the new site.

This is an excerpt from a story tentatively titled Crystaline Stars, but it is some time away from being seen in full, it is a work in progress.

But it is just to give you an idea of what is going on in my mind.

I hope you enjoy!

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It rushed over in waves; nausea; displacement; it felt strange. Yet slowly, he pushed through it, he found his senses. Slowly, they returned to his use, though not his mastery.

He was lying upon a cold surface. Metal, ceramic, he could not tell. He moved an arm under his body and pushed. Slowly he maneuvered himself, partly on his side, and he decided to take the chance.

He opened his eyes, seeking to rid himself of the black before him.

And it was still black. Maybe not as hard, or deep, but the darkness remained. He blinked several times, wondering if he had managed to open his eyes. The lids did feel rather heavy. So did his head, and he rolled his body over, onto hands and knees, and placed one hand to his temple.

He leaned his body upright with a groan, while on his knees, and rubbed his eyes again. He saw the little lights and images all people see when they rub their eyes. His fingers applied pressure, triggered nerve endings, set neurons to fire, translated something to his brain. When he opened his eyes again, still it was dark, almost black, but he thought there was a difference in one direction. He turned his body to face that direction, all the while letting out heavy breaths and stifled moans as his aching joints and sides resisted his motions.

He set himself cross legged on the cold floor, staring at that slightly lighter patch in the darkness. His left hand moved to his head, his right hand to his ribs. He felt awful. Such feelings almost pushed out thoughts of where he was and why.

His last memory was fuzzy. All of his memories were fuzzy as he tried to think through them. He had the vague recollection of a night of drinking. A bar. Gambling? Maybe, but it was more of a celebration. Images of friends, at least he hoped they were friends, surrounded him.

Women. Lots of women. Lots of money, and lots of drinks. He almost smiled, thinking about the images of the lovelies he could remember. And the men around him, saluting him with drink after drink. A wild night, yes, a celebration, in the corner of a noisy bar, somewhere...

He sat as still as he could. It hurt less this way. He listened, because he had nothing more to do as he flitted through the pieces of memories. His head spun and hurt as he moved through them.

Yet his ears could hear something, in the direction of the lighter patch of black.

He smirked, and was pleased when that didn’t hurt. He was remembering the evening, the party, and especially the women. Had he paid for their company? For their pleasure? Had one of them done something to him? He tried to push through those memories again, as sluggish as it was to do so, and wondered if he even knew his name. He had to, they were all chanting it as they celebrated. It was easy.

A loud click caught his ear, and suddenly his eyes stung as a bright beam of light struck out from the darkness. "Mickey Laskin." A deep voice holding a serious tone called out.

"I think so," he said, as he knew it was his name. Only after the words had left his mouth did he realize it may not have been wise to utter them.

The slot in what he thought was a door closed, and he was cast into the dark once again. He listened now, to the ever faint sounds of a voice, probably the same voice, and he continued to listen.

Soon, there was a clicking, and it grew closer. It held the rhythm of footsteps. He thought of the women in the bar. Their lovely shoes made those sounds. But what would one of them be doing here.

There was some more conversation, and a few sounds of a computer keypad. The door slid open. The light was blinding at first, but soon his eyes adjusted. It was a silhouette at first, standing in the doorway. The pain subsided in his eyes, and dulled in his head. He knew at first the shadowed image was a woman. It explained the heel sounds clicking towards what he could only consider a cell.

Had one of the girls from the bar come to bail him out of jail? He had flashes of their faces, those he could remember, and as his eyes adjusted again, he saw the face of the woman in the doorway. She was at the bar. She had even flirted with him. Maybe.

"You," he managed to stammer out as the memories cam crashing back. There were memories of a woman with auburn hair, pretty greenish-brown eyes, and a few men who came up to her table after he had staggered over to it. "You were in the bar..."

"Mickey, you fucked up bad." She reached outside of the cell and pushed a button, and soft lighting filled the dank room. She withdrew a blast pistol from a holster, as well as a knife, and passed them to one of the men he thought he remembered from the night before.

"How did I, what did I," he stammered, but he was confused and lost in the conversation now.

"Mickey," the woman said with annoyance. "You idiot! Fool!"

He studied her as he fumbled for a reply, wondering why he was a fool, and why he fucked up. Despite her gear, she was pretty. Tight leggings, a short cut heavy jacket, left open to reveal something tight fitting underneath. Her hair was in a tail, and her ears had several piercings. Yes, that was the woman from the night before. And his gaze fell again to the boots she wore, lovely spike heeled ankle boots that made that delicious clicking sound...

She was frustrated, and strode forward. He didn’t notice the look on her face, he was occupied. He watched the boots as she walked, he watched them as they stopped.

He watched as the pointy toe of her right boot came up and kicked him in the side of the head.

He closed his eyes and rolled about on the ground for a moment. He wasn’t willing to watch anymore, but as he opened his eyes again, he saw the sole come across his face, and felt it press down on his neck.

He gurgled slightly, and clawed at the woman’s leg to no avail. He lacked the strength.

"I should crush your throat now," she spat through gritted teeth.

"What, did... I.." Mickey managed a few words as he fought to lift the boot from his throat. It wasn’t even arousing anymore. He was feeling threatened as he struggled to breathe. This wasn’t a game.

"You don’t remember me?" She asked as she eased off the pressure a slight bit.

"You’re...from the... bar. Rocks and Hammers Bar..." He spat out his reply as quick as he could as he sucked back as much air as his throat would allow..

"No, Mickey, not from the bar, that’s just where we picked you up, drunk."

His eyes studied the shape of the woman once again. Her face, her pose, her demeanor. He tried to think of her voice, wondering where he had heard it before.

Realization cut through Mickey’s clouded mind like as asteroids through the atmosphere. It was a large, fiery explosion of realization.

"Oh no..." he muttered, "Black Kat Katrina..."

"Now you remember, which is fine by me," Katrina said as she eased up once again on the pressure her boot brought to Mickey’s throat. "Had you remembered two nights ago," she said with a giggle, "you may have run, and it would have been messy."

"Wait," Mickey stammered, "two nights? What the..." He paused for a moment, no longer a desperate animal grasping at Katrina’s leg, but a mere wide eyed boy, full of confusion. "I have never been hung over enough to sleep through two days-"

"We drugged you." Katrina beamed with delight as Mickey mulled over what had happened. "I was quite upset that it took two days for you to wake up, but then, you didn’t pass out with one gelcap in your Orange Nebula. Frankie tossed two more into whatever it was you drank after that."

"Shit." Mickey said it in a slow, drawn out whisper. He paused for a moment, staring blankly at the open doorway, and then up at Katrina. "So did you and your boys catch me to sell me, kill me, or what?"

"Now, now, Mickey," Katrina said as she raised her boot up and moved the spike heel over her prisoner’s throat. "If I wanted to kill you, all I would have to do is put my weight down." She gently rubbed the tip of her boot heel over his throat, and with a quick, fluid motion, she pulled away, spinning towards the doorway and taking a few steps.

Mickey swallowed hard. It was nothing like any of his fantasy games with the girls he liked to find for his sessions of adult ‘pay and play’. His mind was still blurry and sluggish, and he now knew it was the drug keeping it in a jumble. He pushed himself to a sitting position and shook his head.

"I did a favor for you once, this is what I receive in trade for that?"

The clicking stopped, and Katrina turned once more, looking down on the wretched man in her holding cell. The gaze was evil, full of spite, disapproval. Yet a smirk remained on her face. He looked back at her, trying to meet her gaze through half shut eyes.

"So why am I in here, Kat? Where the fuck are we, for that matter."

Katrina broke into a smile and waggled her finger back and forth. "Mickey, you were very bad, and that means you’re popular in the wrong sort of way. That will not do, with what you know, and after what you did."

She stepped outside of the cell and moved her hand to the control panel. "As for where, it doesn’t matter. Your new home is this cell, for the moment." She paused, looking at the floor and clicking her tongue. "Hell, I think we’ll even feed you and keep you in good health for the moment."

She raised her eyes and glared at the man again "Serullan gelcap sedatives really do mess up a body, as you may have noticed. It took me three days to get over the ones you slipped me, once upon a time."

Mickey swallowed hard again, and averted his gaze ever so slightly. It wasn’t easy, taking his eyes off of those legs, but he managed. He could not defend himself against the truth at that moment even if he tried. His mind was not coherent enough.

"You’ll be hungry, and I suggest you get some sleep, you poor bastard." Kat motioned behind the man, and as he turned, he saw a padded cot with pillow. The Black Kat quickly motioned for a tray of food to be placed inside the cell, and hammered the keypad outside. The door shut, and Mickey’s rage began to grow.

"This is not fair, you can’t hold me!" he shouted as he heard the clicking and other footfalls head down the hallway. "And I knew my father, Kat, I’m not a bastard!" He fell onto his hands and knees as he struggled for the door, and decided to give up.

Hopefully, the food was not poisoned....

Nurse, Police constable, maid, space pirate (go see the story section to understand), there are a number of things I would love to do. Witch, sorceress, Valkyrie, the list goes on with fun personas I would love to try out for the camera, all of which could go with heels. Of course, at some point, the typical greek/roman goddess, with some nice strappy sandals and the standard white gown would have to be included. All of which I hope to be able to do if things go well with the new parts of Jenny's site.

Since no one else is asking... Simple one for people who know anything about Red Dwarf... What did Lister name his twin sons, and what are the names based on?

This is one from a series, just something quick, to give everyone an idea of what would go into a Laurie Web site.

I mean, it won't be all Laurie goes to the office.

What if Laurie had to, oh, go undercover as a student somewhere?

Could you see this girl sitting next to you in math class...

Excellent boots on Kylie, but my comment is not directed at her. Did someone leave dear old Tom in the oven too long? He looks more like Geroge Hamilton used to! And even George has eased off on his tan in recent years... Back to Kylie... interesting how she will be immortalized in a pair of stiletto heeled boots. that certainly sets her image as a high heeled diva.

I wore them today, and the nice lady who interviewed me did not even notice. They do deserve to see a bit of what they are going to get, right? Besides, I did see the good luck rabbit, which I had not seen for over three years. It's a long story, I will post it in the story section sometime. I think it depends on the job and the person interviewing, really. I mean, for a call centre, I don't think it matters as much.

That's very true... But, I think I'll try it one day, provided I haven't been drinking. One thing that never goes well for me is wearing heels and having drinks. I don't fall down, but I am more nervous than driving in a winter snowstorm with no visibility!

The shoes are the ones featured in my avatar picture.

Unknown, way to go!!! woooooo And Fox, 2400, that's impressive, but you are still behind. Never under-estimate the power of power posting!

You know, GB, we may not get along all that well. But I hope that doesn't stop you from posting.

I am sorry, then, since I thought I was getting a vibe of a major attitude from your post, and not fun. It seemed defiant, as if you were out to make your point known as the only one. Everyone knows that I am quite outspoken, and I keep so much of it inside, since I am a moderator as much as a member. Believe me, if you think I post a lot now, you would be stunned by the rate of posting I'd have if I didn't have to think about my role here. You will learn how to handle things over time, and how to convey the correct sense of emotion with the postings. of that I have no doubt, and I am looking forward to how you adapt to the flavour of this message board. That is always very exciting! The ball is not in my court, and I refuse to have it be that way. Besides, that's very much a basketball term, and basketball brings up bad memories. Only you can decide whether or not I am being sincere, or vicious, or anything. Others may know what I mean, and you may not. See, I have no problems with the decision on whether or not to post, I just make them as the moment needs. Whether or not you wish to reply to something I have written is totally your choice, and trying to claim that it is up to me is, well, a popular tactic, but I won't fall for it. I don't mean any harm, I am always fun loving and whimsical, smiling behind my keyboard. Laurieheels is as much a persona as she is a person. For more than two years people have had to learn how I actually do things, and what my real attitude is. And this may take you some time to learn, and I hope you can come to realize that I am passionate about life, about shoes, but under it all, I am having fun and hope that you can as well. But we must remember that words are weapons, and we should use them with great care. So I accept that you are just having fun, and I hope you understand that I am as well. Of course, we all need to adapt in situations. As for the name, Gene, well, you'll learn that I take great liberty with names. People who have been in the chat room can tell you that. Correcting me on it doesn't change anything, I just smile and keep it up.

There was snow today! I'm not freezing my toes off with sandals! Okay, nothing stayed, it was too warm, and it was wet snow for five minutes maybe. I can wear the sandals for a bit at home, certainly. Long enough for one picture, maybe.

Ah, okay PJ I see now. We realized that after taking that picture, and for a few others we rolled the carpet out of the way for better definition of the shoes. But I am not happy with the polaroids anyway, so they'll disappear for now, and I'll build what I can with the new camera. It is an excellent point you make, though, and I think I have learned a lot since that session.

I've worn really high heels all day. It's like being an athlete, training for triathalon or some such event. There is a point where you can do it, and feel great about it. I will admit, it takes a lot of practice, working up the endurance for a 16 hour day in 5.5 inchers...

Gene, I do take offense, because of your curves shmurves comment, for one.

I was simply trying to explain what that shoe does for a woman.

Thin heels on a man don't make him more feminine, but on a woman, they do.

All I was trying to write about was that certain styles can enhance what exists already. It was not to say men could not wear anything, or shouldn't, and everyone knows that i already have the viewpoint of "just go and be happy, so long as no one else is hurt"

I am a WOMAN and my experience with heels is as a WOMAN. See? I know I have attributes others like to look at, and I know what my shoes and clothing can do to enhance it. So I am speaking about that.

And yes, some women are of the mindset that this style of shoe is for women, and they feel men are invading something of the sacred female ritual.

Whatever society has done to make things as they are, you have to change it through understanding and compassion. Not overbearing points, which you then have to add a disclaimer for.

Be happy in your choice, and choose it for yourself. The world cannot change unless you do your small part to change it.

Doing that here is preaching to a community that already believes in what you are saying.

So when we women say that heels make us more feminine and empowered, it is not because the shoe has direct male or female attributes. It is how the shoes enhance our own attributes.

And if a man can wear them to enhance male attributes, that's great.

But we wear our stiletto heels for the creation of a curve line, for the change in posture, to enhance the things most men drool over as their testosterone levels incerase, or whatever happens to them.

Off day or not, please remember that you can edit your message. After reading it over, once posted, you can go in and soften it up, for the consideration of others.

I hate to bring this up here, but it is big ranting messages like that which cause many women to refrain from posting here.

Truth in advertising is much like honest politicians. Rare, but great when you see it. Most cleaning product commercials lie, and the product never does what the commercial says it does. Shoe commercials, while rare, are usually good ones. Just show the shoes, and how people get excited about shoes. Simple.

Heeled boots are a fine example from history about how heels can be for men. But fancy little shoes with sculpted heels and lace trim, bows, big buckles, in white, well... not something our manly cavalry soldier is going to be wearing when charging across the field of battle. Maybe when he gets home, but that's another issue. As for women wearing trousers, it's more to hide femininity and prevent harassment and discrimination. More power through danger, hiding the seductive parts. Let's face it, we women are paranoid, and television has made us so. We think every male boss is going to be leering at us and firing us if we don't do what he likes. Okay, that is extreme, but it is an underlying reason for some of the fashions women wear, even if no one is realizing it in active thoughts. Cover up to stay safe, I suppose.

I am not 'into' that, if you're referring to something sexual or arousing because of the gel bed. I am trying to think of a filler material that will not spray if the bed is punctured. A gel filled matress would be easy to repair without having problems in the bed. And there could be many gel cells to offer comfort, not just a large cavity filled with jelly.