Lucy

Hi Everyone! I quote an excerpt from Candice's current posting on Jenny's Forum: "We both still wear more classic 5" stiletto heels to work. We were actually laughing about that the other day over lunch. As you know, current shoe fashions are getting quite nice again. While Liz and I prefer more classic heels, the styles of typically 4" stiletto heels with very long pointed toes are still very pretty. What made us laugh was the number of young women in our firms that have begun to wear high heels and are doing so as if they have discovered something new. By the way, Liz and I are still very fit at 39+ (laughing). We both run 5 kilometers every morning before work and this weekend we are going to be running a 10K marathon for charity. That's why we wonder about these women who claim to be locked in high heels; it has never happened to us." Candice is about 50 and her Story (see "Candice's Story" in "Stories on a Heely Theme") tells us that she has worn 5" heels (and over) all her adult life. And yet, like me, she believes in exercising in flatties and barefeet and sees no need at all to become "permanent" if you don't want to. I agree with her that is is unnecessary to claim to be trapped in high heels. You simply have to follow the guidelines and exercises of my Story - Chapters 23, 24, 24a and 24b. Love, Lucy

Hi Everyone! A million thanks to all those who replied to my Chapters 47 & 48: RPM, Stu, Paul, Sinkem, Candice, Mario, Mike (welcome!) and Patience (welcome back!), and also to those who replied to my MegaForums edition: Jeff M, Dawn HH, Smudgeur and Paul NW. We now come to one of the most memorable milestones in my life in high heels – my impromtu and unforseen journey in impossibly high 6” heels! Wait for it! Here we go – Chapter 49: With the “Queen Elizabeth” about to sail at any second, Clarence was still ashore at the wrong end of the gangway! In a trice, he carried me over to a big iron bollard, sat me down on it, groped inside the shoebox for my new 6” Bettie Page shoes and feverishly put them on my dangling feet. “There” he panted, “They’re the only shoes we’ve got to get you back to London, but please go very, very carefully in them my darling Lucy! Love you! Bye!” and with that, and still brandishing my surviving “Needle” in one hand, he literally threw himself up the crew gangway which they had already begun withdrawing. So there I was! Suddenly abandoned and left to my own devices on the quayside, finding myself wearing outrageous 6” high heels that were so extreme that I could hardly stand up in them, let alone walk in them! At most, I had anticipated that I would only ever to a little gentle teetering and tottering in them in the privacy of Clarence’s mews cottage, and yet here I was in public, having to try and get back to my London home! I could never in my life remember being in such an impossible situation. “Oh cripes Lucy, get out of this one!” I muttered frantically to myself. Tentatively I slid forwards off the bollard, lowering my feet to the ground, and immediately feeling the height of those huge heels thrusting my arches and posture forward. Despite my Business Acadamy training in standing erect, I found that the the heel-height was pushing my knees well forwards, my pelvis upwards and my bottom backwards. I had been so immersed in the challenge of starting-off in the 6” heels that only now did I become aware of renewed cheering from the crew members. Now that sailing time had arrived, hundreds of them were now lining the rails towards to ship’s fore-deck, directly above me. Who or what were they cheering at? ….. It was me! Or more precisely it was the “Bettie Page Show” that I was giving them! Oh goodness – it was so embarrassing! Although restricted to the most tiny of steps, my intention was to try and retrace my route past the bows, along the quayside and escape across to the dock gates. However, the moment I took my first few tiny teetering steps, the crew’s cheers turned to a solid ROAR of approval, with scores of piercing wolf-whistles mixed in. So hampered was I by the ridiculous heels, that mincing every ten feet further forward seemed like an eternity. However, at last I left the prow of the ship behind me together with the embarrassment of all those seamen and stewards also behind me (or so I thought). But it was not to be - what had been an open quayside and my route to and from the ship was now sealed-off with steel crowd-barriers. I hadn’t been wearing my glasses because I had wanted to look as beautiful as possible for Clarence and his fellow officers. I now peered and peered shortsightedly through half-closed eyes, desperately trying and spot an opening through which to escape, but it was all too much of a blur. Just as I finished rummaging in my handbag for my glasses and was putting them on, a uniformed Cunard official stepped forward and said “Excuse me madam, the ends of the quay are always cordoned-off for an hour either side of sailing. I must ask you to retrace your steps and exit through the entrance to the terminal building which is opposite the mid-point of the ship. Oh, and if you’ll pardon me for mentioning it madam – very nice shoes indeed madam, if I might make so bold!” I stammered a blushing “Thank you” at the kind man. “Oh no!” I groaned to myself, realising that I would have to totter and teeter back past all of those some crewmen for a second time! Already the sheer strain of coping with 6” heels for the very first time was indescribable. Every muscle and sinew in my feet, ankles, legs and entire body was strained as tight as a violin string as I strove to stay erect and to keep tottering forwards without falling off the fetishy heels. I was sorely tempted to do that return stretch in my nylon stockinged feet, but one look at the quayside littered with rusty old screws, nails, stones and patches of black oil immediately put me off that idea. In any case, something inside me told me that I would be letting-down Clarence and that fanatically enthusiastic crew. If it had been humiliating trying to walk past them in heels that were blatantly far too high for me, then it would be even more humiliating to chicken out of wearing them for the return trip! So, on they stayed. Predictably, as the crew suddenly realised to their delight that I and my high heels were coming back past them again, their cheers began once more and began swelling in volume. But all of a sudden I became aware of something else as well. As I teetered so precariously along the quay, not only did I have the ship’s audience on my right, but there was also an even larger audience on my left too! A balcony ran along the upper floor of the terminal building, and the rail was now thronged with hundreds more onlookers! These were obviously the friends and relatives of the passengers who were travelling or emigrating to North America. Furthermore, with the benefit of my glasses I could see that the forward part of the ship where the cheering crew were situated, and now became aware that the long mid-ships section had countless masses of faces at the rails – these were the passengers themselves , and it looked as though all two-thousand-plus of them were on deck to celebrate the departure. Once more, as I click-clicked my way fully abreast of them, the crew’s cheers rose to a tumultuous crescendo. Despite my virtual helplessness and acute embarrassment, I suddenly saw the funny side of the all this, so I looked up and give them all a wave and a wobbly attempt at a saucy kick of my heel. My audience erupted! As one man, they responded with the hugest cheer I’d ever heard. All of this ribald cacophony from the forward part of the ship was now attracting the passengers and relatives alike, lining either side of my route. But just then I remembered my beloved Clarence. What had he said? “Find the row of port-holes below the name “Queen Elizabeth”, count seven port-holes going aft from the letter “Q”, and that’s me!” I paused in my tiny paces as I looked for Clarence’s port-hole. Yes! There was a face – and it was Clarence giving me a huge grin and a thumbs-up sign! He motioned me to keep walking and a long camera lens temporarily pointed out at me, obscuring his face. Then he blew me countless kisses and stuck his arm right out of the porthole to give me such a lovely wave goodbye. I got my little embroidered hanky out of my handbag and waved it back at him. Suddenly I felt tears of emotion pricking my eyes – it was all so overwhelming! In fact, I had stop waving the hanky to use it for drying my eyes. As I say, the crew’s ribald tumult had draw the attention of the countless well-wishers on my left and passengers on my right to me failing to master my mega heels! As I continued teetering along the quay between both audiences, they had a ringside seat of my faltering progress, and they all started cheering too! First of all I thought they were generally cheering each other, but then I noticed with a start that the hundreds of eyes on either side were all looking down at me and my spectacular shoes! Many of them had the customary streamers to cascade from ship to shore, but some of them started using them to cascade me! I thought “What the heck!” and entered into the spirit of it by looking up to right and left and waving at them like a film star. If I’d been in my 4 ¾” ‘Alps’, I’d have treated them to some saucy ‘Catwalk flips’ of my heels, but I didn’t dare risk it in those 6” heels – I really would have taken a serious tumble. But nevertheless, looking up at my audience was my undoing. I had thought that the benefit of the ¾” wide bottoms to the Bettie Page heels was that that were too thick to get stuck between paving stones. But I had forgotten about tram-lines! Running along the entire quayside was a pair of tramlines for the cargo-loading crane to move up and down. Suddenly “Stog” – my right heel was jammed into the iron tram-line! A cheer went up from the hundreds of onlookers that was just as loud as the crew’s had been! Luckily I was already having to totter forward so slowly that this time I didn’t walk out of it, I just stood there trapped! Two or three officials started springing towards me, but luckily I managed to free my heel myself before they reached me. Upon this happening, another almighty cheer went up from everyone, and I looked up and waved at all the many hundreds of happy, smiling faces. Although the officials hadn’t quite reached me in time to help, they took a bow and received their own special cheer too! By this time I was conscious that all the muscles in my body were tiring fast, and I could not sustain the tremendous effort of remaining erect in those 6” heels for much longer. My ankles and insteps had never been forced into such an unnatural position before. They felt as tightly stretched as a drum. But fortunately, at last I was now abreast of the quayside entrance into the terminal building, and just as I sought refuge in there, the “Queen Elizabeth” began drawing away from the quay and all eyes now moved from me to the passengers and onlookers waving “Goodbye” or “Farewell” to each other. As I reached the coffee lounge, and sat down, I had never, ever been more grateful and relieved to take the weight off my feet. My muscles were suddenly able to relax from the ordeal of combating the forward-thrust of those amazing 6” heels, and they all started quivering and trembling from the effort that they had just made. As I sipped a cup of coffee, despite all the embarrassment verging on humiliation from walking so awkwardly, and the sheer physical ordeal, in a funny sort of way I felt a real sense of triumph and even exhilaration at my achievement! With no proper practice or training whatsoever, I’d actually walked a full two or three hundred yards in high heels with the magic height of six inches! There was something very sexy about that vast crowd all following every minute step of my high-heeled shoes. Mind you, it was only during my second coffee that I suddenly reminded myself with a shock that I’d only got to the terminal building and not all the way back to London and to my home on Telegraph Hill! Love, Lucy

Hi Smudgeur and Paul! Smudgeur: Yes, my glasses (and sometimes lack of!) will continue to crop up in my Story chapters from time to time. Thanks for following my chapters and for your enthusiasm! Paul: It was very kind of you to notice and to comment on my inclusion Bettie Page photographs. That one of Bettie rearing up majestically on those fantastic red mega-heels was one of her most popular and best-known shots, and was one of the pin-ups in Clarence's cabin. I shall always associate that picture with Clarence and my first visit to the "Queen Elizabeth". Whilst I sit here at home at my keyboard, with the sun streaming in through my window on this sunny Sunday morning and playing on my short towelling robe, my bare legs and my favourite 5 1/4" dangly mules, I'm about to plunge into Chapter 49 - an unforgettable high heel highspot in my life! Love, Lucy

Hi Emma! I only wrote that the photo appeared to suggested that Bettie "Might" have become permanent, meaning equally well that she might not. In my Story to which I referred (see below on the forum "Stories on a Heely Theme"), in Chapter 48 I had actually already mentioned that Bettie Page was reputedly not very good at walking in her mega heels, despite constantly modelling in them. Theoretically, I cannot see why it is not possible that someone like Bettie, whilst maybe not a good walker in heels, could still wear them to sufficient extent to become "permanent". Love, Lucy

Earlier this week, I had occasion to look up some pictures of Bettie Page, the famous high heel wearer of the 1950s, to illustrate my Story (see under the "Stories on a Heely Theme" Forum below). Whilst looking through them, I found this one which appears to suggest that Bettie herself might have become "Permanent"!:

Love, Lucy

Hi Dawn and Mickey! Well, that's certainly a thought. I am hoping withing the next year or two to retire from the business world, and it is always important for people to retain an interest and some motivation. I must say, I've enjoyed writing my Story chapters so much that would be a nice thought to be able to continue with some similar writing! "Pin and Needle" were the first shoes I named - they were very special to me. I did name one or two other special pairs later on. Of course, my Bettie Page pair became my "Betties"! Love, Lucy

Hi Dawn! Thank you for the very nice message. Yes, I worked out for myself recently that my Story had already reached the size of the average paper-back novel! In fact, several members on Jenny's Forum suggested some time ago that when my Sotory is finished, I should get in published as a book on general sale. I'm seriously thinking about it, but as yet, I'm not sure what percentage of the public would be interested in such a specialised topic. What do you and Mickey think? Love, Lucy

Hi Everone! A humungous "Thankyou" for the lovely replies to my Chapter 47 on Jenny's Forum from Patience, Mike, Mario, Paul and Sinkem and for the very nice reply on this forum from Dawn HH. Here's Chapter 48:

As Clarence lead me down the “Queen Elizabeth’s” companionways three decks from Promenade Deck to B Deck, I was bursting with excitement (and some apprehension) to be given the much-awaited “Bettie Page” shoes that he had ordered to be especially made for me in New York. Clarence had shown me various editions of the American “High Heels” magazine that he had been buying on news-stands on Broadway, so I had seen Bettie Page in the incredible 6” heeled shoes that she was famous for wearing. I will try to include such typical Bettie Page photos for you in my duplicate story on MegaForums story page:

On B Deck, Clarence took me forward to his cabin, an outer one with a port-hole situated two decks below the foredeck, just forward of the bridge structure. Clarence said “When you go ashore, look on the starboard bow for the name QUEEN ELIZABETH (which is 84 feet long by the way – one foot for every thousand tons of the ship!). Find the row of port-holes below the name, count seven port-holes going aft from the letter “Q”, and that’s me!

Clarence’s cabin was small but very neat and ship-shape. He said “The senior stewards share two-to-a-cabin and the waiters and commis waiters share four to a cabin, but fortunately we catering officers each have a cabin of our own”. On the wall by his bunk and the ceiling overhead were tell-tale traces of sellotape. “Aye, aye” I challenged, “Has a certain catering officer been peeking at pin-up photos?”. Clarence went all red. I was enjoying this! “Well, come on, I persisted, where are they then? Show them to Lucy!” I was trying to look very stern, but it was almost impossible for me not to burst out laughing. A very, very sheepish Clarence mumbled “Oh well, if I’m rumbled, I suppose I can’t avoid showing them to you, but try not to be to angry with me!” He opened his wardrobe, reached up to the top shelf and handed me a sheaf of pictures, obviously all extracted from magazines. Spreading them along his bunk, I found that none of the lovelies were nude or pornographic. They were either fully-clothed or sporting bikinis or lingerie, but all were balanced on incredibly high, precarious heels, including three of four of Bettie Page herself! But to my even greater fascination, there was a large batch of enlarged glossy black-&-white photographs of what were obviously of the ship’s passengers. In every picture of a lady or couple photographed, the lady was wearing elegant clothing, the utmost in finery, and on her feet was the most superb pair of high stiletto-heeled shoes!”. “How on earth did you get these” I gasped. “Easy” muttered an ashamed-looking Clarence, nervously ruffling his sensitive fingers through his dark brown hair “On every crossing, they hold three Commodore’s Cocktail Parties, one each for First Class, Cabin Class and Tourist Class. The First Class passengers are served with the oodles of the best in champagne and caviar, and at the other extreme the Tourist Class passengers get a small cheap sherry and a biscuit!. The First Class passengers include the finest people in society and many celebrities, and this is their big moment to shine! The gentlemen all wear black evening dress and bow ties, and the ladies – Well! …….. all those fantastic shoes!” Clarence was starting to lapse into one of his ‘high heel comas’ that I was learning to recognise, but pulling himself together he continued “Anyway, the two ship’s photographers circulate and photograph everyone. They have their own darkroom and enlarger on board, so before the end of each crossing, all of the photographs are numbered and enlargements printed with “RMS Queen Elizabeth” across the bottom, and they are displayed in the ship’s foyer for anyone to order and purchase. In fact, I’ve become Bob and Dave’s best customer! Nowadays, I don’t even need to place orders. Whenever a particularly stunning pair of high heels appears in any shot, they automatically print-off an extra copy, knowing that I’ll buy it, and I now get a great bulk-discount! And here they all are!”.

I had become so engrossed in all those wonderful evening dresses, hairstyles, shawls, jewellery and most of all, the superb high heels, that I was ignoring the fact that Clarence was now slumped in his chair looking very guilty and utterly miserable. “Now that you have discovered what I look at on my voyages, are you going to leave me?” he whispered. “Good gracious no! Don’t be such a fathead!” I chuckled “I realise you can’t have me on the trips, so anyone that’s more than half man and has any spirit needs something to enjoy! Look, I’ll let you stick them all back up in your cabin on one condition”. “What’s that?” croaked Clarence “That you add one or two of me in amongst them, and I don’t mind if I’m shown in my highest heels!”. Clarence’s face burst into a delighted wreath of smiles and he swept me off my feet and bodily on to his bunk for an unforgettably passionate outburst of kisses and cuddles.

Suddenly our embrace was shattered by the most deafening and prolonged clap of thunder that I’d ever heard. “Oh my goodness” said Clarence, shutting the porthole, “That’s the 15-minutes-to-sailing warning from the ship’s whistle! And talking of your highest heels, I haven’t even given you the “Extra Specials” yet! He opened the bottom drawer of his chest, and lovingly handed me a shoe box identical to the one that had held ‘Pin and Needle’ with a silk ribbon bow on top. “Quick, with all my love” he said. The big moment! I feverishly undid the box and gazed transfixed at the contents. They were black calfskin courts and the 6” heels looked impossibly high! Clarence explained that most of the famous Bettie pages were taken from about 1952 onwards and mostly just before true pencil-thin stilettos came along. Therefore the heels of most of Betties shoes were about ¾” to 1” wide at the bottom. “To train you in your first 6” heels, I explained to the shoe-maker that you had found even your green 5 ½” stiletto boots to be a little too high and thin and wobby, so I asked him to make these ¾” wide to give you a little more stability and also to look like authentic Bettie Page’s!”.

"Oh Wow!” I gasped “Thank you so much Clarence, but I’ll never be able to wear these! – Look at the heel-height in the flesh! I’d no idea that they would be this incredibly high!”. “Well, try them and see” enthused Clarence “If Bettie can do it, then so can you!”. I didn’t read until years later that although Bettie modelled for all those countless amazing pictures in 6” heels, she had a larger foot than mine, and even then apparently she was never much good at walking in them!

Clarence placed them on the floor at my feet, but they promptly keeled over sideways, so he held each one steady whilst I gingerly inserted my feet into them. “Oh golly!” I exclaimed. I felt my insteps being forced upwards and forwards into a seemingly impossible angle, with my insteps way, way forward of the vertical for the first time, the push of the heels was thrusting my ankles, shins and knees forwards. The toes of the shoes were almost hidden from me, tucked under my legs and insteps! I tried standing unaided, and promptly had to steady myself against the wall. The amazing heels were doing their best to pitch me forwards, flat on my face. It took the utmost effort of every muscle in my body to combat this forward-pitching and to stand erect.

“Try walking across the cabin” said Clarence. Although deliberately short, my first pace was still too long, so I couldn’t put the toe-part of the shoe to the floor. I found that only by adopting the most minute steps a few inches long could I totter forwards in them at all.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed a delighted Clarence, “Terrific! But quickly now, put “Pin and Needle” back on because we’ve only just got seconds to go for me to see you safely ashore down the crew gangway”. I only had a moment to give Clarence the briefest “Thankyou” kiss before we scuttled down to the crew exit. With Clarence carrying my incredible “Betties” for me and descending close behind me, I boarded the wooden gangplank, trying to again keep on tiptoe to avoid Pin or Needle becoming impaled. But this was impossible! The gangplank was now sloping much more steeply due to the rising tide, and I was now trying to walk down instead of up. “Pin” (my left shoe) immediately sank into the wood again and I walked out of it, and simultaneously Clarence’s descending foot inadvertently kicked “Pin” free. We watched helplessly as it rolled and skittered ahead of us diagonally down the sloping gangway, biddely, biddely, biddely-bump, and over the side, and down, down, down, gloop! into the horrible oily bit of sea between the ship and the shore. We were both dumbstruck with horror, but Clarence had the presence of mind to scoop me up in his arms and carry me semi-barefooted the rest of the way to the quayside and safety, to the ribald cheers, jeers, catcalls and wolf-whistles of countless deck hands and crew looking down from the ship’s rails.

As the ship’s whistle thundered the final call for sailing and withdrawal of gangways, I wailed “Oh thank you so much for everything Clarence, have a super trip! Miss you! But we’ve lost one half of lovely “Pin and Needle” that you bought me! It’s so terrible! And what am I going to wear on my feet right now to get myself all the way back home to London?”

Love, Lucy

CANDICE'S STORY "I must try to do more" Posted by Candice on May 31, 2004, 14:41:33 Forgive me for not making the time to submit more of my history but this week has been just overwhelming with work. Ted has been on days off as well so my evenings have been with him. But it’s Monday morning and Ted just left for a few days away so I thought I might add something that I hope you might enjoy. But first I want to thank Lucy for her latest installment, Serenity for her new contributions and Erica for her continuing diary. I do so enjoy the life experiences these ladies offer to us all and I would also like to thank the men for their gentlemanly comments. To Lucy, I laughed aloud when I read about Cedric although I did sympathize with him when I thought how difficult it must have been for a man who cares not for high-heeled shoes in a group that does. Since I did come to realize, albeit a little later than some, how many men appreciate higher heels, I wonder how she got involved with a man who could care less. And for Erica, I was thinking about my first higher heels (higher than 5”) and remembering how I felt I was going to fall forward on my face; but I did love them as they were a gift and it only took a little practice to master them so good luck with them. You will do fine. Your wedding plans are such a joyful time in life and you bring such wonderful feelings and memories for me. You might recall that I was at the movies with Ted and his friends. When the movie ended, we all gathered outside the theatre within the Mall. The stores were all closed and it was quite late, so everyone said their goodnights. Peter and Liz were the last to leave us and I came to learn that Liz worked in the same office complex as I did. We agreed to meet for lunch on Tuesday. The hated winter snow had arrived while we were watching the movie. As a Canadian I do appreciate all our lovely seasons but winters can be very cold and when the snow arrives in quantity, it can make city living so inconvenient. Fortunately only an inch or so of snow was on the ground but it continued to fall in calm winds and large soft fluffy flakes. Ted offered to get the car but again I protested that I would rather walk with him and that if I might take his arm I would be fine in my high-heeled shoes. It was so sweet how he held me as I held his arm. I think he was so worried that I might slip and fall. The snow was quite cold on my toes as some got into my pumps and when I got into the car, Ted started it and did something that surprised me greatly but that I really liked. He took some tissue and bent to remove my high heels. He wiped the heels and the toes and then dried the inside where I had gotten some snow. He dried my toes and warmed them in his hands before putting my high heels back onto my feet. I wish I could express how much I liked this. It was not only thoughtful and considerate in my mind but it was also quite stimulating. I decided to say thank you with a kiss. The kisses became quite passionate and he held me so tight. Had he asked to stay with me that night the answer would have been a resounding yes but after far too short a time, he said that he had better get me home. It was Sunday night and he respected that I had to work the next day. I might say at this point that in 1976, I was no longer a virgin. There had been very few experiences with men but I might also say that I had never before wanted to be with any man so badly as I wanted to be with Ted. During the drive to my home, he explained that he was leaving on Tuesday morning at 5:00am for a three-day trip so we could not see one another for a few days. I was really saddened by this but was struck with an idea and I suggested that I make him an early dinner at my apartment the following night –Monday – and he could still get home early enough to get some rest. He smiled with obvious joy and said he would love to. I decided that I would leave work early to get dinner ready and told him to come at 5:00pm. When we got to my apartment, he walked me to the lobby and kissed me again. I know that the other ladies know the feelings I was experiencing. In the same moment, I wanted him to ask me to stay the night but I also wanted him to leave. He kissed me so nicely; thanked me for another wonderful time; hugged me so tight and left. As I was falling asleep, I decided that I was falling in love with this man and I said a little prayer that he was in love with me. Hugs Candice

SERENITY'S STORY Continued (3) Posted by Serenity on May 31, 2004, 4:01:28 Greetings once again. My particular thanks to Roger, sinkem, RPM, Paul, Stu, Jim, Candice, Mario, Heelfan, Erica, and last but certainly not least, Lucy for their words of encouragement. I do hope my story will add to the variety of this forum. So there I was in the third-floor storage room of the lovely old mansion, being flooded with memories brought about by the sight of this most elegant pair of rosewood crutches. Can you imagine the impact I felt at seeing that they had already been reserved for me, especially in light of the inexplainable compulsions that had led me to the second, then third floors of the house and finally straight to this very room? Just as the wonderment of the moment was engulfing my consciousness, coincidently was I also recalling the awareness that my pelvis injury of those many years ago had been of late causing some discomfort. I was feeling a certain amount of stiffness and pain in my hip and pelvic area. Although not disabling, it was getting progressively worse. For the mostpart I had put concern of it aside, but the crutches were a most effective reminder, and my thought was that it might be nice to have them to use, just temporarily, in order to provide a bit of a rest for the overexertion which was beginning to cause this discomfort to my "aging" body. I grasped the crutches and placed them under my arms. To my amazement they were a perfect fit. Tentatively, I raised my left foot a bit and took a few paces around the room. The skill acquired those 23 years ago returned instantly, and the nagging little pain in my hip abated immediately. It felt as natural and comfortable to be on them as I had remembered. As explained earlier, high heels had gone from being important in my wardrobe to "key" during my freshman year of college. It wasn't a large stretch to imagine that I was noticed for my manner of dress, and in fact, I rather enjoyed knowing this. Additionally, I had a premonition that my being on crutches had been what attracted Fred to me. After all, I had spent the entire second half of my freshman year nicely dressed and in high heels. For the sophomore year, the only thing to change was that I was on crutches. Even though we were both at the same school during my first year, Fred had never appeared to notice me at all. Then, when I showed up on crutches for the second year, in only a few days he had not only noticed me, but had actively sought me out and lavished me with attention. Although we didn't discuss it, deep down, I knew there was a connection. Because of this, I assumed that Fred had somehow managed to arrange the purchase of these crutches which I was now admirering. Explaining my premonition to climb the stairs and find this one particular room remained a mystery. But, I somehow felt that my Fred would be pleased to see these crutches in our home. I held them out for closer inspection. They were shingle-shaft, which is a rather unusual design. The shaft on each of them ran straight from the bottom up to a point between elbow and shoulder height, where they bent in a graceful arch of nearly 90 degrees. This arch made it possible for them to to receive the underarm (also rosewood) saddles which were attached. They were not adjustable for height. The hand grips were also attached at a fixed height, not adjustable. Remarkably, they fit me perfectly. The luster of the polished redwood emitted an aura of warmth and elegance. Although irregularities in the finish revealed wearspots which belied countless hours of use, there were no blemishes or nicks. The rubber tips at the bottom were new. These crutches appeared to have been reconditioned to perfect condition. I quietly exited the room and retraced my steps to the main floor, carrying them with me. Walking up to the counter where the sale of items were transacted, I was surprised to be greeted by name. An attractive woman of about my age, nicely dressed and coiffed, said, "It's so nice to see you here today, Mrs. Nelson. I see that you've found your order." I nodded in acknowledgment, and was about to walk away when she continued, "The rest of it will be delivered tomorrow. I'll look forward to seeing you then." "You know where I live?" "Everything is taken care of. I'll be seeing you around nine o'clock in the morning." She smiled. I was befuddled and seemed to have lost my ability to think fast enough to question her about what this was all about. I attempted to return her smile, then took my new crutches to the car and drove home. Arriving at the house, I took the new crutches to the bedroom and leaned them on the wall close to my bed. I then changed into my work clothes for some gardening chores. After spending the rest of the day working in the flower beds, I seemed to notice a bit more of a "hitch" in my bad hip than usual, which I dismissed as the result of an abnormally active day. After dining alone that evening, I sought out a pair of my 5 1/2" heels and decided to give the crutches a try with the higher heels. If anything, the crutches seemed to be an even better fit with the 5 1/2" heels than with the 5" heels I'd been wearing when I first tried them. Very interesting, I thought to myself. Fred should like this... Putting the heels and the crutches away, I returned to the flower garden to dig up some bulbs which I wanted to transfer to another bed. The sack which I'd put them in was rather heavy. When I lifted it, I turned at the waist and immediately felt a stab of pain in my lower back. Ohmygoodness. I had to leave the sack where it lay, and was barely able to shuffle my way back into the house. I took a couple of aspirin and a long hot bath. Even after that, moving my lower legs proved difficult, but I got myself into bed and promised that I'd call my doctor in the morning if it didn't feel better. Love, Serenity

SERENITY'S STORY - "Story Continues (2)" Posted by Serenity on May 24, 2004, 5:39:47 My greetings to you all. By now most of you are probably wondering where in this story is the connection to high heels. From where I left off, it is now necessary to back up a bit. So, here we go.... Even before I noticed the tag dangling from the crutches, the sight of them had brought back a flood of memories from my college days. My freshman year of college had gone swimmingly well. I had put my high school cheerleading experience to work by turning out for and being accepted to the college cheerleading team, as mentioned in my background posting. The entire school year was a blur of activities, going to dances, cheerleading, and somehow finding the time to keep up with studies. I dated a lot of the college boys, enjoying the company of most, but never feeling attracted to any of them enough to consider going steady. My interest in keeping up my appearance manifested itself in my decision to wear slender skirts, nylons, and high heels as often as possible. By the middle of the school year, I had determined to wear heels daily. My wardrobe of heels seemed to maintain at about 7-8 pairs. Of these, most were 4" stiletto pumps in various colors with the pointed toes of that era and little adornment. I had two pairs of pumps with heels more like 4 1/2" which were reserved for dates or other outings that required being a bit more "dressed up". Then there were the lucite sandals, also with 4 1/2" heels for the formal dress of the many balls that were held at our school. Of course most other girls wore heels for the dances and other social occasions, but to my knowledge, I was the only one who wore stiletto heels daily on campus. The transition from flats to heels for the walking required on campus was for me, really quite easy. I must have been one of those for whom wearing heels came quite naturally, for I really don't recall much discomfort or any other problems associated in the transition. At any rate, by the end of the school year wearing heels daily was by then a very natural thing. Of course I was still wearing flats for cheerleading and other athletic activities, so I never did go "permanent" into the heels. But, wearing nice clothes and high heels had become, for me, a part of my regular routine. Then, between my freshman and sophomore year, what turned out to be a life-altering event (in ways most unexpected) occured. A traffic accident put me in the hospital with a broken pelvis. There wasn't much that the doctors could do for my pelvis at the time. I was bedridden for about a month, then finally managed to struggle out of bed on crutches just in time to get back to college for my second year. Of course, cheerleading and athletic activities were out of the question. But, I determined early on that being on crutches would NOT deter me from my resolve to wear high heels, and so from day one of that year I shuffled around campus on my crutches while in 4" stiletto pumps. After only a few days on campus, Fred had introduced himself and kept coming around to check on me. I found myself enjoying his company, and by the end of the first week, he had asked me on a date. In spite of my delicate condition, I saw no reason to decline. (Although I was quite capable of getting around with my high-heel/crutches combination, my slowly mending pelvis required that I be extremely careful to not re-injure myself. Getting in and out of cars, not bumping door frames or table tops; things of that nature had to be carefully watched. And of course, heavy petting was absolutely out of the question!) Fred and I seemed to hit it off like hand-and-glove. He was the perfect gentleman and most attentive to the problems associated with my being on crutches. Also he was most protective of my injury. He never rough-housed with me and was always sure to open doors, position chairs for me, and so forth. I much appreciated his concern for my condition, and to this day believe that it was one of the things that brought us together. (Hence, one of the "unexpected" aspects of the life-altering accident.) In only a couple of months I believed him to be "the one", and apparently he felt the same about me. He visited my parents over Thanksgiving Break, and I (still on crutches) traveled to his home over the Christmas Holidays. It was then that he surprised me with an engagement ring, which I joyfully accepted. School was going well. The time I had devoted to activities the previous year was now available for studying, and for Fred. This was his senior year, so we planned to be married as soon as school was out in the spring. As you can see, my relationship with him was progressing very nicely, too. But, as careful as I might be with my pelvis, it was slow in healing. It was January before I was able to bear even the slightest amount of weight on my injured left side. From then on, progress was steady, but slow. Towards the end of the school year, although walking without crutches was possible, my gait was NOT a thing of beauty. I absolutely did not want to be seen lurching around campus like a wounded buffalo, so the crutches remained a permanent fixture with me throughtout the remainder of the school year. There never had been any trepidation on my part about being seen on crutches. I felt completely at ease while using them, and in fact, came to think of it as being quite natural for me. Hence, there was no perceived rush to hurry up and get off of them. Neither did Fred encourage me to do so. In fact,it was quite the opposite, as he cautioned me about being too quick to challenge the use of my injured left side. Just as the school year was ended, I determined that my walking gait had returned to a normal condition. And so, when we were married one week later, I was able to walk down the aisle sans crutches in a pristine pair of 5" stiletto pumps, giving no thought whatsoever to my injury or any discomfort associated either with it or with my new shoes. I was one happy young lady who was being married to a man whom I felt much the same way about as Candice has described with her Ted. Things couldn't have been better. To be continued....... My love to you all. Serenity

SERENITY'S STORY - "My Story Begins" Posted by Serenity on May 23, 2004, 22:57:37 My greetings once again. I am so flattered that a contributor of Lucy's eminence would see fit to include me along with Candice as contributors of note. Thank you eversomuch! I must say that I've enjoyed every single one of your episodes, Lucy. Your vivid descriptions are simply smashing! Of course, the same could be said of Candice. And what would this forum be like without the likes of Erica as she keeps us updated on the latest happenings? What a relief to know that Lucy is now feeling well and back on track with her contributions. It's also nice to see the contributions by the guys, too. Good jobs, everyone! I was hoping to give a bit more background before commencing with my story, but have since decided that now is as good a time to start it as any. Flashbacks will serve to fill in the blanks. (I hope I can do that without breaking the continuity. As an aside, I never imagined how exhausting it is to write like this! I do hope it becomes easier with experience.) The airport, 1982: I giggled as my husband, Fred, whispered in my ear, "Be sure to get plenty of rest while I'm gone, because you're going to be kept up nights when I get back!" Well, what could I say? It was autumn, and Fred was departing for his annual moose hunt in Canada. It was a trip that he so looked forward to each year. I must mention that this was in the days before those ubiquitous cell phones that are around today. Part of the allure of this annual guided excursion into the Canadian Wilderness was the fact that he and his cronies would be totally out of communication with the outside world for an entire 2 weeks. Flown into a remote wilderness and deposited at some lakeside camp, they were allowed complete respite from the cares of the high pressure corporate world. I was fully aware of his need for this annual intermission, for he always returned invigorated, with his enthusiasm for everything (and I do mean everything) fully restored. A final kiss before he departed for his flight; his hand lingered a moment around my waist. It was our ritual that I turn to walk away first, knowing that he enjoyed the sight of my 5" heels carrying me away from him. A few paces and, as always, I stopped, turning to see the appreciation in his eyes as we waved good-bye before I was swallowed into the crowd. As I walked back to where the Continental was parked, I thought about what he had mentioned to me during our drive to the airport. He had noticed, he said, an estate sale going on in one of the affluent older parts of our city and had suggested that I might want to stop by there. What more encouragement would a girl need? I had always been curious about the old mansions and their contents, so this provided an excellent opportuntity to indulge my curiosity. It was still early in the morning as the Lincoln rolled to a stop near the house in question. (Fred's flight had departed about 7 a.m.) I felt a strange sense of familiarity, in spite of the fact that I'd never been there in my life. I mixed with the growing crowd in looking over the accouterments of an elegant lifestyle. I was completely at ease and relaxed, enjoying every minute of it. After perhaps an hour of browsing, I felt a compulsion to climb the stairway leading up to the second floor of the house. There was no one else on the second floor, and the sharp reports from my stiletto heels seemed to emphasize the emptiness. Passing an unnoticed doorway, a second impulse caused me to open it. A narrow stairway climbed to yet the third floor of this elegant old mansion. I tentatively climbed the stairs to find myself at the end of a narrow hallway on the top floor. I fairly tiptoed down the hall, drawn towards the second door on the left. Opening the door disclosed what surly must have been a storage room. A single narrow window, high on the wall, allowed a shaft of morning sunlight against the far wall at the opposite end from the door I had just opened. The room was empty, save for a pair of crutches leaning ominously against the wall, those being highlighted by that single shaft of light. I was practically mesmerized, standing there gazing across the empty room at those crutches. Then, an imperceptible draft of air fluttered the tag hanging by a string from the hand grips on the crutches. It seemed to beckon me. I tiptoed across the room, allowing my stiletto heels only the slightest contact with the underlying hardwood. Grasping the tag, on one side, in large marker print, it read, "ROSEWOOD CRUTCHES." Turning the tag over, I was nearly overcome with surprise to read, "SOLD: SERENITY NELSON." Serenity

SERENITY'S STORY - "Background" Posted by Serenity on May 22, 2004, 5:26:38 Greetings to all. Providing you all with a bit of background may be helpful in your understanding of my story as it unfolds. (I'm starting to get goosebumps from the thought of sharing it!) Before we get into that, though, I'd like to thank Roger, sinkem, RPM, Paul, Stu, and Jim for their encouragement in my efforts. And a special thanks to Candice for her nice welcome. It was so comforting to see you speak of warmth and appreciation from the participants here, Candice. :-) And I do so much appreciate seeing how you met the man of your dreams and how your relationship developed! About me: Born in 1940 in the Western Hemisphere. My father was away at war during the early years of my life. One of my earliest memories was of his returning home to us (Mother and me) shortly before Christmas of 1945. Mother was so excited about his return, and it should be no surprise that her excitement was magnified in the eyes of a five-year-old. He was so handsome in his dress uniform! And my mother simply had to be the most beautiful woman on earth that day with her new navy dress, stocking seams pencil-straight, and those beautiful high heels! She had made sure that my new dress matched her own, but of course I had to do without the stockings and high heels. As you might guess, I was so proud of both of them, and from that day forth, I knew that I wanted to grow up to be a beautiful and well-dressed woman, just like my mother. Mother was the last word in the classic feminine beauty of her era. It seemed only natural that I would grow up to emulate those qualities. As for her, she always let me know what clothing was age appropriate for wearing in public, yet she had no qualms of my playing "dressup". She generously gave me the occasional pair of her castoff heels and other articles of clothing. She was petite; about 5'2". Her shoes were size 6, and my feet grew to fit into them some time during my eleventh year. You can believe that I was relentless in my efforts to walk properly in those castoff 4" heels. (At the time, I imagined myself to appear very "grown up" in them.) By my twelfth birthday, I was outgrowing her castoff shoes, and I begged her to buy for me my what would be my very own first pair of heels. I was surprised at how easily she agreed to my request, and in only a few days we shopped for and purchased a pair of white pumps with about a 2 1/2" heel. I was quite disappointed that she wouldn't allow me a pair of 4" heels, since I believed myself so accomplished in them, but she remained firm in her resolve that we would "work our way up" to the loftier heights. Even though my first pair of heels were not what I really wanted, I must admit to feeling less like a little girl and more like a young woman when wearing them to church or special family occasions. From that time on we would shop for me a new pair of heels every few months. Mother was good about allowing me ever-increasing heights, although the increments of increase were so much less that what I would have chosen. Then, at some time during my fourteenth year, shasam! An exciting new style of high heels appeared. They were called "stilettos". My mother couldn't get to the store fast enough for her first pair of them, and recognizing my own proclivity for high heels and stylish clothes, she even offered to buy me a pair of 4" heels to match her own. Like her, I was hooked. :-) By then, I had grown to my adult height of 5'8", and my feet had grown to size 9, where they thankfully stopped! In spite of my interest in pretty clothes and doing about everything I could think of to enhance a feminine visage, I was athletic and active, too. I golfed and played tennis, as well as becoming a cheerleader at school. Although most of my time was spent in skimmers, saddle shoes and penny loafers, I never missed a chance to dress up and wear any of my now several pair of 4" stilettos! After high school, I entered college, where I tried out and was selected for the cheerleading squad! Things were going so well, I couldn't imagine anything terrible on the horizon. I just knew that if I stayed out of trouble and kept focused on school and activities, good things would come. Ohmygosh, enough for now!! I'm hoping to get into my story with the next effort. Until then, my love to each and every one of you. Serenity

Hi all high heel enthusiasts! This is Lucy posting! Recent newcomer Serenity has started posting her own excellent Serenity's Story on Jenny's Forum, but as all postings on that board will drop of the bottom, I hope she doesn't mind if I now copy it on to here where it will be preserved for everyone's permanent enjoyment, just like Spikesfan kindly did for my early chapters. Here it is then, the start of SERENITY'S STORY: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - SERENITY'S STORY - "Introduction" Posted by Serenity on May 20, 2004, 3:59:11 Hi Everyone. First, I'd like to compliment Erica, Lucy, and Candice for the first-rate reporting they've been doing on so many of their high-heel experiences! My goodness! (And the others, too.) As for me, I'm way behind the 8-ball on all of this computer stuff, but I did stumble onto this forum a couple of years ago. After following it with some interest (because of my own interest in high heels), I became alarmed with the way a few of the contributors were being treated. Although I don't recall the details, it seems as though someone named Susan was being treated in a most discordant manner because of her viewpoints on certain issues. Because she was being treated so badly, I chose not to post here and for some time I stopped checking in. In the past few months, I've once again started viewing what's going on here. Erica, Lucy, and more lately, Candice have done an exellent job of reporting on the importance of high heels in their respective lives. And, it seems that the bickering and fighting that was so pervasive in the past is now laid to rest. Since the tone here is a bit more civil now, I thought I might dip my toe in the water, so to speak. My story is one that tells of yet another unique way in which high heels have played such an important part in my lifetime, which by now has extended much further in time than most any of the other participants here! So, if there's any interest in hearing a singularly unique tale of a (rather long) lifetime in high heels, please let me know. The names and certain other details will of course have to be changed to protect the guilty! :-) My love to you all, Serenity

Posted by Candice on May 20, 2004, 14:28:55 CANDICE'S STORY - Sorry To Have Been Away I want first to apologize for having been away for so long. These past ten days have been so busy for me with work and meetings. But I have been reading the posts with my morning coffee and I am especially happy to feel the excitement that Erica brings as her wedding day nears. May I also take this opportunity to welcome Serenity. I am very new to this site and have felt nothing but warm and appreciative feelings from the others. May your experience be the same. My first date with Ted had been such fun and so terribly exciting for me. As I went to sleep that night, I even allowed myself to fantasize that he might be the one. He was (and still is) so handsome and such a gentleman and I really hoped that he liked me too. I recall not sleeping very well that night; I think I was worried that he might not be as attracted to me as I was to him. But at about 10:00 in the morning he called and we must have talked for an hour. He went on about the wonderful time he had on our date and that made me so happy. He told me that some friends of his were going to dinner and a movie that evening and hoped that I might want to go with him. He said he really wanted me to meet his friends. Dinner was to be at a casual roadhouse style restaurant in Yorkdale Mall and the theaters were there as well. Naturally I accepted; I think I burst with glee when he asked me out again and I remember thinking that if a girl should play hard to get, I wasn’t doing well. He told me that everyone would be casually dressed and that he would pick me up at 6:00pm. Fortunately the Toronto winter snow did not arrive that day either. I wanted to be casual but I also really wanted to look nice for him. I chose a navy blue straight skirt (actually I think you might call it a pencil skirt because it was quite tight) and a plain pink tight sweater. My plain kid leather navy blue high-heeled pumps would go perfectly. They are just a simple unadorned pump with a short pointed toe and a 5” stiletto heel. I was waiting downstairs in the lobby of my apartment when Ted arrived. It was not important to me that I might seem eager; I did not want to play games with this man. His face told me that he was pleased to see me and I saw him notice my high heels. He offered to get the car while I waited but I had a good winter coat which he helped me put on and I said that I would rather walk with him. He offered his arm and we began walking to his car. He said how nice he thought I looked but he also said that he was surprised that I had worn high-heeled shoes again especially since he had suggested casual attire. By the way, he looked so good in black slacks with a gray turtleneck sweater. I simply explained to him that I did not wear low heels so he would have to learn to live with that about me. He laughed and hugged me and this made me really happy. I might also mention that these heels have steel tips so I was clicking quite loudly as we walked to his car and while I did not know it then, I was to learn later that he liked that a lot. Ted’s friends were wonderful. There were three other couples and I was to learn that they were all fellow pilots and their respective wives. It seems Ted was the last single one in the group. I wish I could relate well how nice they all were to me; both the men and the ladies welcomed me into their circle with such warmth. We had a wonderful time talking and laughing during dinner. The theaters were only a short walk through the Mall from the restaurant but there was quite a line up to enter. I was the only lady in high-heeled shoes and I remember that Liz (Peter’s wife and a girl with whom I have maintained a close friendship all these years) commented that she loved my shoes but could not imagine what it must be like wearing such a high heel. I just said that they were very comfortable and that it only took a little practice. Since then she too has become a wearer of very high heels but I will tell you more of that later. We had to stand in line for about 30 minutes before the show and as Lucy and Erica will agree, standing still on tile floors in 5” high heels is probably the hardest thing to do. Ted was very concerned for me but I have to admit I lied and told him that my feet were fine. I was grateful when we finally entered the theater and sat down. I did not take my high heels off but it did give me a chance to move my feet in them a bit and of course, I was soon fine. I must return to some office work now but I will continue this soon. Best Wishes Candice

Posted by Candice on May 7, 2004, 15:36:36 CANDICE'S STORY - First Date First of all, I want to thank everyone for your kind comments. I am truly enjoying this new experience. This week was rather busy at the office but I wanted to continue to relate how my life with my wonderful husband began. You may recall that in a moment of weakness I had decided to give him my business card but before he had a chance to say anything I had literally run from him. I don’t think I was nervous on my first airplane ride but I remember shaking all the way to Montreal wondering if I had done the right thing. I could not get this man out of my mind. The flight from Toronto to Montreal is less than an hour and I remember that there were three really pretty stewardesses on board and thinking why would this man want to see me again when he worked everyday with such pretty girls. I did notice that they all wore very low heels though and I wondered why they would do that. I had never considered being a stewardess; I had the impression for some reason that they all had to be nurses. It seemed though that with such and attractive uniform, I would have chosen to wear a high-heeled pump if I were doing that for a living. The meetings in Montreal lasted the rest of that day and all through the next. I was scheduled to return the second evening. Fortunately there were a lot of company associates that had a great deal to contribute to our meetings because my mind was elsewhere most of the time. Many of us went out to dinner in an area called Old Montreal. It is an historical area of the city with many of the buildings dating back more that 100 years. The snow had yet to arrive in Montreal so I was able to go with my friends; I had not brought any winter boots so I wore a simple black dress and my black patent high-heeled pumps. A comment Erica made in her diary reminded me that after dinner the men decided that we should walk back to our hotel. We had taken taxis into Old Montreal. It was terribly difficult for me in my heels. Not only was it six or seven city blocks but also Montreal is quite hilly and the sidewalks are very old and uneven. It was also cold and the men walked very quickly. After a full day in 5” heels, my feet were very tired by the time I reached my room. At any rate, I diverge again. My flight back to Toronto arrived late afternoon and I took a cab to my office. December 3 was a Friday and I wanted to make sure there was nothing that needed my attention before the weekend began. Most people had left by the time I arrived but imagine my shock when I found a dozen red roses on my desk. Someone had put them in a vase for me. There was a note enclosed from Ted saying that he had been calling me, would continue to do so and that he really wanted to see me again. My nervousness returned; I remember that so clearly. I gathered my roses and took the short subway ride home. He called that evening about 7:00pm. I had bathed and changed into a simple housedress. I mention this only because I do remember that when I answered and realized who it was, I stepped into a pair of high heels while we talked on the phone. It simply seemed like I should. He was adamant that he wanted to see me again and suggested that we go out Saturday evening. This man was so terribly attractive that the idea frightened me but I agreed. I remember asking what we would be doing so that I might dress properly and he told me that we were going to dinner and dancing. Thank God I had Saturday to shop for a dress. In the morning I just put on a skirt and sweater with my coat and a pair of comfortable plain kid high heeled pumps and took the subway to Eaton’s to find a something to wear. I found a lovely soft pink cocktail dress with a cowl neckline, a full skirt and a nice narrow waistline. I thought it would look nice with black patent pumps but decided to cross Yonge Street to my favorite shop to see if my friend had any soft pink coloured evening heels. He looked at the colour of my dress and suggested a pair of absolutely gorgeous wine-coloured pumps. It might be hard to envision but the wine colour was perfect with the soft pink. These shoes, which I still have, are so special. It’s hard to describe the way they mixed soft suede with the leather in their construction but they also have an adorable soft suede bow on the side above the heel. The heel is of course a stiletto 5” high. La Marca makes them in Spain and I tried a size 36 ½. I have always wondered why European shoe sizes for ladies are such a big number. I tried them on and was so pleased. The leather and suede in them is so soft that these are one of the most comfortable pairs of high heels that I own. They are very low cut and have a short but very pointed toe. I bought them and took them home praying that the snow would stay away so that I might wear them. I spent a lot of special time getting ready. I wanted to look my best. My apartment buzzer sounded right at 7:00pm and although I had been ready for 30 minutes I asked Ted to wait a moment. I was really shaking and I hoped it did not show. I will always remember his smile when I opened the door. He told me that I looked so nice and he sounded so genuine. When we went downstairs on the elevator talking about everything new friends talk about I thought I noticed him stealing glances at my high heels and I remember hoping that he was noticing them. When we reached the front door, he mentioned that his car was parked a block away and that he would get it of I wanted to wait so that I didn’t have to walk all that way in those high-heeled shoes. That was the second time he mentioned my heels and I loved it. I made a point of saying that my high heels were very comfortable and that I would very much prefer to walk with him. He gave me his arm and again I noticed that he walked at a pace that considered my heels. He opened the door for me and I sat down. He took me the Ports-of-Call, a very upscale club that had a wonderful restaurant with a small jazz band and a large dance floor. I will try to write about the actual date later today but I have some office work to complete now. Best Wishes Candice

Posted by Candice on May 1, 2004, 13:51:12 HOW I MET TED Dear Friends; I did not really know what to write next but I thought that I had mentioned my wonderful husband Ted so much that it seemed appropriate to jump a few years ahead and tell you how we met. I left home in the fall of 1968 to move into residence in downtown Toronto at the University of Toronto and I graduated in the spring of 1972 with a degree in business administration. My college years were fun – terribly poor but fun but I will tell you about them later. When I first moved downtown, I found a wonderful shoe store right across from Eaton’s Department Store. For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of it. It was a family name but sadly I do not recall and even more sadly it closed in the late 1980’s. They only sold lady’s shoes and the vast majority were very high stiletto heels. I often wondered if it failed because too few women were buying really high heels and that was the limit of what they offered. I also remember that their shoes were expensive by the standards of that time. I was a customer throughout College as my limited finances allowed but after I graduated and found work, I spent a great deal of money in that shop. At any rate I digressed. I December of 1976, I was working for a large Canadian Finance and Investment firm in Toronto. With four years service I was pleased with my advancement in the firm. I had a nice income as well as my own apartment in the downtown area. I had not bothered to buy a car since the subway was a 5-minute ride to my office. I was dating some nice young gentlemen but nothing was serious – none seemed to be right for me. At any rate, I clearly remember the date – it was December 2, 1976 and I was to travel to Montreal to meet some associates in Montreal for business meetings. I was very excited in that I had never seen Montreal and I had never been on a plane. The firm was picking up all of our expenses. Fortunately there was still no snow in Toronto so I was able to dress nicely for the flight. Toronto snow can be a large problem at times for high-heeled shoes. I wore a black suit, which comprised a straight skirt, a tailored jacket and I added a contrasting white blouse. I chose my black patent pumps that were relatively new from the shop I mentioned. I actually still have them. They have a nice pointy toe and very slim stiletto heel of 5”. A cab met me at the front of my building and drove me to Malton Airport, which is now known as Pearson International Airport. I walked into the airport terminal and I was absolutely lost – it was huge and I had no idea where to go. I found an information board but it looked Greek to me and I recall becoming quite nervous. It must have showed because suddenly I heard a man’s voice asking if he could help me. I turned and saw Ted for the very first time – he was gorgeous!! A tall handsome airline pilot wanted to help me and I was praying that he could not see how attracted I was to him. He was smiling a very infectious smile and it put me somewhat at ease so I told him that I had never flown before and that I was going to Montreal. He said that he would help me, he picked up my suitcase and we started walking. We made small talk about flying when I clearly remember him asking me if I would like what they call the passenger service cart because it was a bit of a walk and that I was wearing such high-heeled shoes. Ted has always used the full three-syllable description of my heels and I have always loved that about him. That was also the very first time in my life that a man, other than a shoe salesman had ever said anything about my heels. I remember telling him that I was fine in my heels but it also came to me that this gorgeous man was walking at a pace that considered the height of my heels – none of the men I dated had ever considered that before. With all of my prior dates, I often felt that when we were out and walking I almost had to run in my stilettos in order to keep up. When we reached the check-in area and the agent had taken care of me, Ted told me that he would like to see me again and asked if he might have my phone number so that he could call me. I was still a little un-nerved by his overwhelming good looks and I said no. I thanked him for his help and started to walk to my flight. Providence intervened because I looked back and saw this tall handsome smiling pilot looking at me and at my heels and I dropped my suitcase and went back. My business card had both my home and office numbers – I shoved a card in his hand and was so embarrassed that I literally ran away to the boarding area. Between my high heels, the slippery tile floors and the fact that I was shaking all over, I wonder to this day why I did not fall in a humiliating heap. I will write about our first date when I get the chance. Love Candice

Posted by Candice on April 29, 2004, 15:39:46 THANK YOU FOR MY WELCOME! Dear Lucy, Erica and Lazer; I want to thank you all for your very kind welcome. It is so nice to be a part of this group – my husband also passes his best wishes and thanks. By the way, we live in Toronto, which unfortunately is 2000 miles from Laurie’s home in Calgary. I am afraid that I have to agree with Lucy. I really dislike platform and thick heel styles that have come and gone in the past. I never wore them despite the constant changing fashions. I am afraid that I always remained with the high thin-heeled stiletto pumps even at the times when flat shoes were in style. There were may times when friends and work associates would suggest that I was possibly a little silly but for me, it has always been about my self image and self esteem. I still recall one pair of my mother’s high-heeled shoes that probably affected my choice of style. While I did love wearing my own kitten heels when I was a young teen, frankly they just weren’t high enough to make me happy. My mother had closets full of work heels that I remember were about 3 to 4 inches high. But buried deep in a shoebox she had a pair of silk brocade evening pumps that had been died a deep blue to match an evening dress she had. She had never worn these shoes and she kept them rapped in white tissue in a shoebox in the back of her closet. These were my favorite to sneak out and wear when she was not at home – for two reasons. First, they had never been worn and with her size being slightly too large, with only a little tissue in the toes, they fit perfectly and did not slip. Most special to me though was the fact that these heels were far higher than all of her other heels. I remember measuring them with my ruler and they were only very slightly lower than 5 inches. I always wondered why she had never worn them but to me they were the perfect height. It seemed that the shoe was as high as it was long and my low kitten heels could not achieve this look. I wore these every chance I had. At first I was not stable but it was important to me that I could walk well in them so I practiced at every opportunity and often in front of a mirror until I felt I was doing well. Like you Lucy, I really don’t like tilt my heels inwards to lower that affect so it did take me quite a little time until I felt that I walked in them gracefully. One summer day I recall when I think I was 14 or 15 and I was feeling particularly brave so I decided to go out. I remember having a navy blue skirt and white blouse that I wore for school and the blue of my skirt would match these pumps. After my mother left for work, I put on hose, my skirt and blouse and took her pumps from her closet. Because of these very high heels, stepping into them was always a special feeling. I left our apartment and started walking to the nicer shopping area of downtown Toronto. I don’t think I ever remember feeling more nervous that I did that day but at the same time I really felt special. I also learned that walking on sidewalks is a lot different than walking on the flooring and carpets of our apartment. I could not walk without thinking about the fact that I was wearing very high heels or I surely would have stumbled – and that would have been devastating. I also learned that walking in such high heels was causing the balls of my feet to be very sore. I believe that I had been out about an hour when I clearly needed to get home. For reasons that I now know are based upon self-image, taking these high-heeled shoes off was not an option but still, it seemed then like home was a thousand miles away. I must have lost my focus because I stepped into a sidewalk space that we all know is the bane of stiletto heels. It literally pulled the shoe from my foot. I had to extract it by pulling the heel out with my hand. The heel had only entered the crack by possibly ½” but to my horror it had pushed the silk brocade on the heel up and exposed the heel’s core. I think I almost cried – I was saddened to have damaged these heels and was sure that my punishment would be severe. I put it back on and went home. There I was able to carefully push the silk back down so that it looked proper again but if you compared both heels very closely, you could see that the silk was not perfect on the right one. The other thing that was obvious now was that the perfect black leather soles under the toe area which had been pristine was now scuffed from street wear – clearly a result that a young teenager did not consider. I was certain that I was going to be dead. I rushed these pumps back into their tissue and into the box. For days I fretted that I was going to be found out but apparently she never ever was to wear these pumps because the punishment I feared was never to come. Sadly I never had the courage to go out in these high heels again but I wore them at home constantly. They defined the style I like the best and was to choose after I went away to University. Best Wishes Candice

Hi Everyone! This is Lucy posting! Recent newcomer Candice has started posting her own excellent Candice's Story on Jenny's Forum, but I noticed that her Introduction is about to drop of the bottom, so I hope she doesn't mind if I now copy it on to here where it will be preserved for everyone's permanent enjoyment, just like Spikesfan kindly did for my early chapters. Here it is then, the start of CANDICE'S STORY: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - CANDICE'S STORY (Introduction) Posted by Candice on April 28, 2004, 20:40:30 Dear Lucy and Members; To start, I am new to this site and actually I am quite new to the Internet. My husband bought me this computer and when he found this web page along with Lucy’s Stories, he suggested that I should contribute. I personally find it funny how two women almost a world apart can have such similar lives. I always claim to be 39 at every birthday but I was born in 1950. I refuse to let age catch up with me doing everything I can to keep my youth from a sensible diet to exercise and fitness. It’s all right to get older but I refuse to look like I am - and a good hairdresser is always a huge help. The parallel comes though in the discussion of high heels and this is why my husband asked me to contribute. Like you Lucy, I have loved high heels all my life. The style I have always chosen is the classic stiletto heel pump (court in England I believe) with a short but pointed toe. The new styles are pretty but many of the pointed toes seem too long. To provide some background I am from Canada and I really began to notice high heels when I was a little girl of about 7 or 8. My mother was a business lady and in the fifties you may recall, it was unheard of for a young woman NOT to wear high heels to work. As probably every little girl did then I would play dress up in her clothes, jewelry and high heels and always dreamed of when I could have my own – it was a right of passage to adulthood. I think I probably nagged constantly and I recall clearly that on my 12th birthday I was allowed my first pair. They were only 2-inch kitten heels but they were mine. It was terribly frustrating though that I was only allowed to wear them to church and special family outings. I also nagged for higher heels but my mother made it very clear that I would have to be 16 before I was allowed anything higher. That was a terrible source of frustration because many of my friends were allowed somewhat higher heels and I began to hate not having at least the same height. By the time I was 14 I had finished growing. I was then and still am 5-feet 4-inches tall and my shoe size depending upon style is 6 to 6 1/2B. My mother wore a size 7B so with a little tissue in her pumps, I could easily sneak her higher heels and wear them outdoors. That was not accomplished with impunity and I was caught and scolded many times but to no avail. I suspect I was a constant source of frustration. But that is another story. I did not really get to wear the heel styles I truly like and still wear today until I moved away from home and went to College but that too is a long story. What was a complete shock to me was that I never really understood how many men like women to wear high heels until I was finished College and had been out working for a couple of years. Oddly the man that first explained that to me was to become my husband when I was 26 and we have been so happy ever since. Well I have probably rambled enough. Lucy, I want to tell you just how much I have enjoyed reading about all of your experiences. Erica, might I suggest that you wear a comfortable heel height for your wedding but maybe get a special heel height for your going away outfit. I did only to say “thank you for loving me” to my new husband 24 years ago. Walking was tricky but he really did notice and show his appreciation.(huge smile of recollection). Best Wishes Candice

Hi to all you high-heel enthusiasts! Chapter 46 sparked off lovely replies from Sinkem, Paul. Erica, Stu, Mario and RPM, and on MegaForums I received very nice messages from JeffM and Dawn HH – you all very kind to this London lass! And now to one of the most memorable milestones in my life – my first 6” heels. In the event, the occasion proved to be much more momentous than I had bargained for. Honestly forum members, I can’t believe that it has taken me 47 chapters to get to this point!: For an interminable fortnight I had been counting-off the days, hours and minutes before I could be with my beloved Clarence again, and could be shown around the World’s largest ocean liner, and could be given my first ever 6” heels!. It was all so exciting! But now at last on this sunny spring morning in 1964 I was speeding from London to Southampton on the train. Clarence was looking forward to introducing me to his fellow officers on the “Queen Elizabeth”, so I felt it befitting to wear my smartest and most attractive formal navy blue skirt-suit over a light blue blouse, a matching navy blue patent leather handbag, and in honour of Clarence, on my feet I wore his gift to me of “Pin and Needle”, those wonderful rapier-thin(3mm) titanium heels with the light translucent blue uppers in such a low-cut court shoe style. As they had been too big for me from the start, and the thin leather had stretched even larger,They had been slopping on and off my feet like mad. I actually liked that ‘pseudo mule’ slapping sensation, but it had already detracted from my decorum at Claridge’s and I didn’t want let Clarence down in the dignity of the “Queen Elizabeth”. Therefore I had put insoles and heel-grips into “Pin and Needle”, and that just about prevented them from slopping. With the light and dark blue outfit, I hoped I looked ultra-smart and a bit nautical for Clarence. As I walked through Southampton Dock’s gates, clutching the Visitors’ Boarding Pass that Clarence had sent to me, the enormous ship lay berthed in the distance. It was quite a walk to through the docks to the Cunard Terminal where the “Queen Elizabeth and the “Queen Mary” tied-up on alternate weekends, having usually crossed within sight of each other in mid-Atlantic. Poor old “Pin and Needle” had to negotiate stretches of uneven concrete here and tarmac there, interlaced with hazardous inset railway lines and odd coils of rope and lengths of rusty chain. However, despite my somewhat heel-wobbly progress, I made it unscathed to the ship, having approach along the quayside. I gasped in disbelief upon gazing up at the riveted steel hull of the ship, rearing above me like a huge black endless cliff. The two “Queens” were the only ships to have exceeded 1,000 feet in length, the “Elizabeth” having been slightly the longer at 1,031 feet. Up-ended it would have been over five-and-a-half times as high as Nelson’s Column! Even without being up-ended it was still astoundingly lofty, having 13 decks (the height of a 13-storey building!) plus the biggest funnels in the world, and being 234 feet tall from the keel to the masthead. A Cunard official inspected my pass and directed me up the crew gangway. The passenger gangway was a posh covered-over hydraulic affair like boarding a large aircraft, but the crew had to use a long primitive swaying wooden gangplank with handrails. Immediately, both “Pin and Needle” sank down into gangplank and became stuck! Behind me, a laundryman put down his enormous basket and kindly pulled the heels out of the wood for me. I put them back on, but this time tippy-toeing the rest of the way into the ship, avoiding putting any weight on my heels. Checking upon each person embarking from the gangway was the ship’s Master-at-Arms. He said “Ah yes, welcome aboard Ma’am. I’ll telephone the catering officers’ quarters and inform them of your arrival”. Moments later, a beaming Clarence appeared looking breathtakingly handsome in his Cunard Line officer’s uniform. He held out both arms towards me and I shot straight into them. I don’t know which of us was the more delighted to see the other. “Oh Clarence” I breathed into his neck, “This is fantastic!”. “My Darling Lucy!” said Clarence, “We can have five precious hours together on board. Yesterday afternoon and this morning I’ve managed to complete all my Stock-and-Stow duties, so there’s now enough new food and provisions on board to feed over 3,360 passengers and crew for a week.” “My goodness” I though to myself “a whole floating city!”. Clarence continued “You are just in time to be my guest for lunch. After that, I do hope I can show you everything before our special Betty Page Shoes moment”. Clarence lead me through into what he called the “Working Alleyway” which the passengers never saw. It was a fascinating steel-walled central corridor running the full length of the bowels of the ship, lined by dozens of service areas and departments – laundry, fire station, Printing press, carpenters’ workshop etc. and the alleyway was teeming with seamen, kitchen staff, painters, greasers and all manner of ship’s company members. My heels had been clang-clang-clanging along the red-painted steel deck and I felt the curious eyes of a hundred of the crew upon my shoes. Clarence opened a curved metal hatch to a circular steel compartment and said “go in there and look up”. “Wow!” I said, looking up a what seem to be a never-ending vertical round shaft with a metal climbing rungs running right up it. “What on earth is that?” Clarence told me I was looking up the hollow steel foremast, at the top of which was a glazed crow’s-nest compartment for the lookout who was connected to the bridge by telephone. After that, Clarence took me up a flight of stairs to “R Deck” and the completely different world of the first class passengers. We were now walking along sumptuous corridor panelled from end to end in highly figured “fiddle-back” maple. Clarence astounded me by saying that there were so many corridors, passageways and decks on the “Queen Elizabeth” that it was possible to walk for 22 miles without retracing one’s steps at all! With a chivalrous bow, he gestured me into the First Class Restaurant. It was vast – the full 118’ width of the ship and longer again. Only a proportion of the passengers had arrived on board, so the restaurant was less than half full, but the surroundings were so grand! Wood panelling and carved wood sculptures and tapestries and metal sculptures adorned that walls, and smart waiters in short white jackets hovered to give us silver service with a choice of countless dishes and courses. I was so excited that afterwards I couldn’t remember what I’d eaten! Clarence introduced me to a number of his fellow officers, all looking absolutely magnificent, and even to the Commodore of the fleet! Apparently, the other Cunard ships each had a captain with four gold rings on their sleeves, but being the biggest and best, the “Queen Elizabeth" was under the command of the Commodore himself with five gold rings! Clarence said that many celebrities travelled on the New York run and pointed out that the young actress Hayley Mills was just entering the restaurant. Minutes later violinist Yehudi Menuhin and conductor Leopold Stokowski came in together and sat near us. I felt just like a film star myself, and was so pleased that I had stopped “Pin and Needle” from slopping and looking slovenly. After the lunch, Clarence continued taking me on a whirlwind tour of the ship. Even visiting only a fraction of the thirty-seven public rooms, only two of the swimming pools and only one of the gymnasiums and one of the cinemas, my feet felt as if “Pin and Needle” had covered the full 22 miles of Clarence’s corridors, and we still hadn’t been “Topsides”! We ascended to the vast navigation bridge and it’s controls. The view over the foredeck and bows was quite stunning. Clarence tried to take me out on to the starboard wing of the bridge which overhangs the side of the ship but the huge 90’ sheer drop below made me too giddy to stay there! He pointed to the spare propeller lashed down on the foredeck – a colossal piece of brass 18 feet in diameter and weighing 32 tons. Then he pointed at the two enormous funnels aft of the bridge, each rearing 56’ above the top deck and the forward funnel bearing the pair of famous whistles which weighed over a ton apiece and could be heard 10 miles away. It was all absolutely incredible! Too much to take in! Lastly, Clarence suggested a romantic walk right around the promenade deck. Luckily the teak deck was too hard for “Pin and Needle” to sink into as they had done on the gangplank, so hand in hand we set out, but “OOPS” – whenever either heel stepped on the pitch caulking between the planks, I immediately kept sinking in and getting stuck. I tried hard to tread only on the teak planks, but every now and then SQUITCH and one or the other heel was stuck again. This kept yanking the shoes off my feet and destroyed the new heel-grips. Before long “Pin and Needle” were slip-slopping off my feet again and slap-slap-slapping way merrily. “Oh well” I shrugged. Clarence just grinned hugely. “And now Lucy” he said, “Before all visitors have to go ashore, we’ve just got nice time to visit my cabin together to see if we can find a certain pair of very, very, very special shoes for you!”. Love, Lucy

My goodness Paul - "Springolators" - I remember them well! Dreadful things! In the sixties, several shops proudly offered some of their mules as "Springolators". It was mules-for-wimps! When we put our feet into them, the elastic would push up from below, keeping the top of our feet in firm contact with the toe-strap, especially at the part of our stride when the shoe flops to it's maximum and would stand the greatest risk of flying off. For me, this totally spoiled the lovely loose, unfettered, slappy feel of a great pair of mules. Instead, my toes felt as if they were in a frumpy elastic stocking, and the slapping of the shoe became prim and ultra-safe and no longer daring and sensual. I only ever got two pairs of "Springolators", and on both pairs I ended up operating with a sharp Stanley knife and taking the springolator elastic out! After that they flew off from time to time, but that was part of the fun! Thanks for jogging yet another momory of the sixties, Paul! I hadn't heard the name "Springolator" for donkeys years! Love, Lucy

Hi All! Lovely to receive responses top my Chapter 45 from Sinkem, Carl J, Stu, Jim, Mario, RPM, Paul and Mr. Spike, plus nice, friendly words from Erica and Candice, and replies on here from Dawn and JeffM. Chapter 46: As Madeline proudly tottered out of Regent Shoes in her stunning new sky-blue 5 ½” stiletto-heeled courts, Clarence and I followed her into the street, smiling at her enthusiasm, and being infected by it. Although Madeline always walked in a somewhat hampered way in mega-heels, these new ones made her look fantastic, despite her odd wobble and “Whoops!”. The three of us caught the train to New Cross, because Velma had spent all day preparing and cooking a meal for six which was to include Velma, Me and Madeline and our three boyfriends Mick (the Oxford St. shoe salesman), Clarence and Cedric. Cedric worked as an accounts clerk at the same firm as Madeline, and she’d asked him along to the six-some as their very first date! Madeline changed-down into her new 4 ¾” Alps for our walk up Pepy’s Road to the top of Telegraph Hill. Needless to say, both slingbacks had slipped down before we entered our three-girl pad and were greeted by a wonderful candle-lit spread laid out by Velma. Mick had already turned up with multitudinous bottles of wine, winked at us all, and we awaited the arrival of Cedric with great curiosity. Any friend of Madeline’s was bound to be very nice. But he wasn’t! We opened the front door to a very prim and proper young man with a very prim and proper moustache and central hair parting who was already looking most disapprovingly at the weeds growing out of our window boxes. He introduced himself very formally, and stiffly shook hands with us all, including Madeline. Undaunted, Velma sat us all down around the table, poured us a generous drink of sherry (which Cedric prudishly pushed away, asking instead for tap water) and bore in the prawn cocktail starters which in those days were a great novelty. Of course, Mick and Clarence got on like a house on fire. The both had a great sense of fun, and like us three girls, they were both high heel enthusiasts! Mick and Velma were fascinated when we told them all about the Windmill Theatre showgirls getting kitted-out in glitzy high heels. Mick had always had a fascination for such groups of ladies shopping for identical heels, and immediately began regaling us with one similar such situation is his shoe shop. Three ravishing beauties had entered and asked Mick “We’re a singing sisters threesome, and have you got three pairs of identical stiletto-heeled shoes in orange to match our new stage dresses?” “But not more than 3” high” added one of them “Because I can’t manage in higher heels like my two sisters can”. Mick noticed that even wearing kitten heels she was looking very awkward in them. After disappearing for several minutes, Mick re-emerged and said “I’m afraid orange is a scarce colour, especially as it’s still late winter. However, I do have this one model in orange, but the heels are much higher than 3”, I’m afraid”. “Oh, they’re the ideal colour and simply glorious!” enthused the other two singers, over-ruling the first sister and ignoring her horrified looks. Before Mick could blink, they had bought all three pairs and rushed out. Mick said he often wondered how the non-heel-managing girl got on wearing 4 1/2” stilettos for the first time in front of an entire concert audience! Just then Velma brought in the main course of delicious traditional roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, and dispensed an appropriate French red wine. I answered Mick by mentioning that I had also found myself going out in 5 ½” heels that were my highest ever when Mummy had enthused about a green leather coat matching my green leather boots and being great as a street outfit. Mick nodded enthusiastically and told us that many, many times individual ladies had come into his shoe shop purely to find shoes in a colour that matched their particular coat, skirt or dress, only afterwards realising that the heels were really too high for them. “That’s right” I chipped in, “I’ve noticed this on several occasions in the street. Some ladies look very nice in their matching ensembles, but I remember one lady in Bond Street wearing a turquoise coloured coat and she had obviously bought her very high-heeled turquoise shoes to match the coat. The coat looked wonderful on her, but as for coping in the high stiletto heels, she was walking along the pavement like a trussed chicken!”. Cedric sipped unenthusiastically at his glass of wine, stayed disdainfully silent throughout our high-heel chattermongering, and eventually cleared his throat asked the room in general what we thought about the political situation in Cyprus. That killed the convivial mood of the dinner more effectively than an atom bomb! Even during our dessert of peaches and ice cream, the mood was positively sombre with Cedric’s dissaproving presence casting a gloomy shadow over us all. Anyway, not to be discouraged, Velma cleared the remains of the meal away into the kitchen and gaily announced to the three fellas that we three girls had a treat in store for them – a little fashion show of our best high heels. We remembered how much Clarence had enjoyed our impromptu heel-parade in his mews cottage, so we were sure that the fellas would be doubly appreciative of a better prepared parade at home where we could feature all of our most spectacular pairs of high heels. Velma asked Clarence, Mick and Cedric to sit on our long settee, thrust a hot coffee and after-dinner mints at each of them, and we retired to don the first three pairs of our “stunners”. Well all had pretty short skirts on, and I put on my 5” white stiletto courts that had featured in the Isle of Wight beauty contest, Velma slipped into her high Italian slingbacks, and Madeline again put on her brand new sky blue Regent Shoes 5 ½” stiletto courts. We all swept into the sitting room trying to do our best “Pretty bimbos teetering in high heeled shoes” act, parading around the room in front of the fellas, with a few catwalk-like turns and twizzles, showing off our stiletto heels to best effect. Immediately, Clarence and Mick were totally captivated, watching our every move in rapt attention and hugely enjoying every little move of ours and saucy flip of our heels. They were lapping it up! Absolutely loving it! But suddenly we all became aware of Cedric’s presence. To the dismay of everyone else, he was looking more and more scornful and irritated. “I can’t see why your shoes are getting all this attention” he snivelled, “they look thoroughly tasteless and silly to me, and anything to do with shoes is so boring to anyone with a fine mind!”. Madeline, feeling responsible for having invited Cedric, looked utterly embarrassed and devastated. I thought she was going to cry out of sheer humiliation! Velma could see that the atmosphere was irretrievably ruined for the night, so as soon as she decently could, she tactfully suggested that it was time for a hot “nightcap” drink to fortify the fellas for their journeys home. Before Clarence left, he and I did the washing-up together and had a quick kiss and cuddle in the kitchen. “I am so sorry Clarence” I said, “I had no idea that it was possible for one killjoy to ruin an evening so thoroughly”. “Don’t worry on my account” said Clarence, “It was a super day walking along Oxford Street with you, and then experience those magic moments in Regent Shoes, and then enjoying Velma’s marvellous meal and seeing you three in top high-heeling form! And now Lucy, just to cheer you up, I’ve got a surprise plan for you: When the Lizzie (as Clarence called the “Queen Elizabeth”) next gets back to England in a fortnight’s time, as one of the caterering officers, it’s my turn to stay on board to oversee the stock-and-stow of all the provisions for the next crossing. So instead of me coming up to London, I’m inviting you down to Southampton to visit me on the ship! And, don’t forget, they’ve promised that I'll have those specially-made American skyscraper 6 inch ‘Betty Page’ heels to give you when we meet!”. Outwardly I sparkled in glee and anticipation, but inwardly I was saying to myself "How on earth will I be able to manage 6" heels???". Love, Lucy

Some members seem fascinated and even turned on by the notion of "Permanent" high heeled ladies, probably through fetishy or masochistic tendancies. Personally, much as I love everything about high heels (as born out by my Story), I find it very sad that some women are stuck in high heels and can no longer do many of the healthy, fun things and activities which nature designed and equipped us for. Also donning my ultra high heels still gives me the same thrill (at the age of 59) as it did when I first inserted my foot into a high heeled shoe as a young schoolgirl. I am quite convinced that I would not get this daily thrill of going from flat to ultra-high if I were stuck in ultra-high heels all the time! Therefore, I have always been most particular to spend part of every single day walking around in flatties or bare feet, and in doing tendon and calf stretching exercises as outlined in my Story - Instalment Nos. 23, 24 and 24a. Also it is not only possible to use these exercises to prevent becoming "Pemanent". but also to re-stretch shortened tendons and to "Come down" again to flat shoes, or at least to much lower ones. Of course, achieving the latter does not prevent you from wearing ultra high heels whenever appropriate. Love, Lucy

Aw cummon Jeff! We were all young once. You'll no grudge a girl a little bit of teenage fumbling in that heady setting will you? It makes a change from the statutory back row of the cinema (movies)! Love, Lucy

Well Hi-There Everyone! I’m back and bug-free at last! My thank to everybody who wished me a speedy recovery from my chest infection – I wouldn’t want to go through that one again. A whole month! And a belated “Thank you” to all the members who gave lovely responses to my Chapter 44 – Stu, Sinkem, RPM, Paul, Mario and Erica. Also to those who did likewise on MegaForums when my Story was duplicated on “Stories” – Dawn, JeffM, TabascoTesa, Paul (North-East) and Jinxie Kat. Candice’s posting to say “Goodbye” to high heels due to foot problems was very sad, and I hope Mary’s support site to “Girls Stuck in High Heels” proves helpful – maybe the tendon-stretching exercises in my Instalments 23, 24 & 24a will help those “Permanent” girls. Finally I would like to give a huge welcome to the two new splendid contributors to this Girls in High Heels Forum of Jenny’s – Candice and Serenity. With their wonderful postings augmenting those of Erica, Anita, Stu, Paul, myself and others, I think this Forum is reaching it’s best-ever level. Here is my Chapter 45: Madeline’s usual mood of bubbling enthusiasm had temporarily evaporated. She wailed “How is it that my ankles and balance were all over the place when trying-on those 6” heels, and yet that dancer Linda comes swanning in and wears the shop’s 6” heels as smoothly and elegantly as if the were less than half the height? Hrrmmph! Even in these much-worn 5 ½” heels of mine, I’m not nearly as good as she was in all the six-inchers!”. Well, it was very difficult to think what to say to comfort her, because the sad fact is that some girls can wear high heels much more naturally and effortlessly than others. She seemed inconsolable. I don’t know if if was quite the right thing to say, but Clarence tried to cheer her up by answering “Well, I don’t know. I often think girls look more attractive and alluring if their heels are very high and very challenging to walk in, even to the point of being too high for them. You looked absolutely fantastic when Lucy and I saw you road-testing and teetering away in those white 6” stilettos out on the pavement! A wonderfully memorable moment! Such sights are bound to bring out the manly, protective instincts of us guys, aren’t they now?”. Madeline gave Clarence a peculiar look, as she wasn’t entirely sure whether his remark was a compliment or not, but after this she steadily brightened-up, and began looking at Regent Shoes’ amazing selection. It was certainly a wonderful assemblage of high heeled shoes – by far the best in London in those days. And being early Spring, it was seasonally a good time to visit because they were not only displaying all the winter styles – boots, court shoes etc.in black and dark colours, but the Spring and early Summer range had been added – high-heeled sandals and backless mules in light pastel colours and high wedge heels in similar colours and in cork. We were in heaven! As Clarence and I sat there, Madeline began trying on this and that pair, tentatively at first, and then with increasing vigour as her usual cheery enthusiasm began re-asserting itself. Clarence’s eyes were following every move of Madeline’s feet as they slipped in and out of countless pairs of high heels and pottered and tottered up and down the showroom. She seemed to be drawn repeatedly to various versions of the good old 4 ¾” stiletto-heeled “Alps” that already featured heavily of my shoe collection with Velma by now owning three pairs as well. Clarence murmered “Why am I noticing that those seems to be the highest heels on display? Aren’t Regent Shoes supposed to be famous for ultra-high heels like the ones that Madeline and Linda were trying earlier on?”. I explained to him that the main shop area was laid out for ‘ordinary’ ladies that came in looking for the higher end of the ‘normal’ high heel range up to 4 ¾”, whereas their specialist range of skyscraper heels for specialist connoisseurs (including men!) was kept through the curtain in the inner private-appointment showroom. Clarence was spellbound at my mention of the ‘Inner Sanctum’, and I sensed a second surge of excitement ripple through him as I mentioned the male high-heel customers. He breathed into my ear “You mean men actually come here to buy shoes for themselves? High heels in men’s sizes?”. “Well yes”, I whispered, “More than once Velma and I have seen men collecting their high heels from here, and one actually wore them out of the shop”. “Goodness Gracious!” Clarence softly exclaimed, and went very quiet. Meanwhile, Madeline was having a whale of a time. By now practically every stiletto-heeled shoe of over 4” was off the display stands and littering the carpet. The poor assistant couldn’t keep up with her dives and lunges towards every style in sight, but Madeline finally settled for the slingback version of “Alps” in a summery lemon-yellow colour. I blurted out “But Madeline, I thought your reason for coming here was to replace your beloved purple 5 ½” courts with an identical style?”. “Ah! We’re just coming to that” grinned Madeline, “I’m about to look at their ‘Special’ shoes”, but for everyday wear, I’ve been admiring Velma’s and your pairs of 4 ¾” ‘Alps’ so I’m getting both heel-heights today.”. At last Madeline was seeing sense. A few months ago she’d escaped from a repressive mother and ‘sensible’ shoes and gone on the rebound straight into outrageous 5 ½” stilettos from which she had become inseparable until now when they were virtually worn out. But she had started suffering from tendon-shortening problems despite the stretching exercises that I had shown her (see my Chapters 23 – 24a), plus growing aching of the lower back. Daily 5 ½” wearing was taking it’s toll and she was seeing sense! For the ultra-high heeled shoes, the special salesman emerged from the curtain and duly beckoned Madeline through. “Can my friends come too?” asked Madeline. “Well” pondered the specialist. “Normally we are only used to discreetly seeing one client at a time, so there is very little room in there. But if your two friends can squeeze in, I suppose it will be alright”. Clarence seemed hugely grateful and excited, so hand-in-hand, we followed the salesman and Velma into the little room. It certainly was minute, so Clarence and I pressed and squashed ourselves into the corner with a few giggles, giving Madeline just enough room to try on the wonderful array of shoes. Do you know, for a long time afterwards, both Clarence and I mutually remembered that as one of the sexiest moments of our lives. We were totally surrounded by the most fantastic ultra high-heeled shoes in the universe, all looking so, so, so hypnotically erotic! And I felt Clarence’s tall, muscular body pressed so tightly against mine. As we watched Madeline’s feet insert themselves into the first of many pairs of towering 5 ½” heels, the whole scenario sent an electric shock of excitement rippling through Clarence’s body and mine. Clarence’s arms were around me, his large sensitive hands running up and down my body, our eyes never leaving Madeline’s feet. Luckily the saleman and Madeline were too engrossed in the shoes to notice what was happening behind them, but my antics were becoming as wildly passionate as Clarence’s. The climax came when the assistant produced a pair of high-heeled courts to kill for! The were in sky-blue patent leather, with the most incredible low-cut uppers and toes we’d ever seen, and a tiny little dinky bows on the toes, and wonderfully thin (about ¼”)high, high stiletto heels. As Madeline tenderly inserted one foot into them and then the other, she was re-invented! Clarence breathed “Just look at that toe cleavage!”, Madeline was moved into utter speechlessness, and even the salesman of long experience looked mightily impressed. The insteps of Madeline’s size 5 (UK) feet were forced up into the vertical, and as she rocked the precarious heels 5 ½” heels to left and right to get the measure of them, I felt Clarence stiffen and simultaneously I experienced a special and unforgettable moment of my own. Fortunately, a highly delighted and excited Madeline and the saleman went back through the curtain to the shop till to conclude the purchases, thereby avoiding noticing the disgracefully flushed and unkempt state of Clarence and myself! I looked sheepishly over at Madeline, but through my daze of still being intoxicated by gorgeous Clarence and all those high heels, all I heard her say was “Can I please wear them out of the shop?”. More soon! Love, Lucy