The First Sister: Ana

[Stu]

(Note: An introduction to this series of fictional stories appears under the thread, "New fiction: The Three Sisters." The First Sister: Ana It is funny how so much can change with something as simple as a phone call. Bob, a friend of mine from college, called me in the autumn of 1994 to invite to me to his house for dinner the following evening. His wife, Ana, wanted to prepare a special meal for us. I gladly accepted. During my three-year marriage, Pam and I had gotten together with Bob and Ana a few times. But in the six months since my divorce, Bob called me more frequently and encouraged me to come by a lot. That is what a good friend does. I was still struggling to understand what had gone wrong with Pam. We had met in college, dated for a number of years and gotten married when we were both 27. By the second year, we had begun to drift apart. Pam had been the one to call for the divorce first. In retrospect, it was a mercy killing. We argued about everything – the house, money, having children. I thought she had gotten self-absorbed and too materialistic in the years since we had been students. She thought I lacked ambition. At least we had had no children, and could make a clean break of it. I envied Bob’s luck in finding someone like Ana. He had a job as an international sales representative for a major software company, and he traveled to all kinds of offbeat places, like Central America. He met Ana in Costa Rica, where she worked as an office manager with one of Bob’s client firms. He managed to convince Ana to leave her native country and start a new life with him in the United States. Ana was a very outgoing woman, and attractive in an earthy kind of way. They were two intelligent people who were very committed to each other. After work the following day, I drove over to their house. Bob answered the door, said hello, and let me in. Something seemed a little different with him, as if he was a little tense about something. We walked back into the kitchen, where I said hello to Ana. And then I knew something was very different. “Hello, Steve! How are you doing?” Ana said, as she gave me a friendly hug. From the waist up, Ana was much the same as she always was. She was wearing a simple blue-and-white blouse, and her brownish-reddish hair was grazing the top of her shoulders. But from the waist down, Ana was transformed. She was wearing a pair of black spandex pants that were so tight they wrapped around her as if they were a second skin. She was also wearing a pair of black, 5-inch stiletto sandals that seemed particularly extreme given her 5 foot, 5 inch stature. Until that time, I had only seen Ana in more conventional attire: loose jeans and slacks, flat sandals, and perhaps two- or three-inch block heels if she was coming from work. This side of Ana that had remained hidden from me until now. Because of her high heels, I had barely needed to bend down to hug her, which felt quite odd because I am quite a bit taller than her. “Wow!” I said, uncertain of how I should react. “You look great tonight, Ana. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this a special occasion?” “Well, sort of yes, sort of no,” Ana said coyly. “We’re having a Costa Rican meal tonight, and I felt like dressing like a tica. That is the Spanish term for a Costa Rican woman.” “Ana used to wear tight pants and high heels all the time in Costa Rica,” Bob said. “A lot of the women do. It is pretty common down there. In public, she began to conform herself to U.S. standards of dress when she moved here, but we still like to see the Costa Rican side of her occasionally in the privacy of our own home.” Ana added, “I never felt comfortable with the thought of dressing this way in Pam’s presence. But, as long as you’re a single man again, we thought you might appreciate some exposure to Costa Rican culture.” I laughed. Ana was certainly right about Pam, who would have freaked if she had ever seen Ana like this. Pam was a straight thinking, by-the-rules kind of woman who did not own a pair of heels higher than two inches. She would have written off Ana as a slut if she had ever seen her like this. “I don’t want to put you on the spot right now, Steve,” Ana said. “But before you leave tonight, I will want your honest opinion. For now, just observe.” She turned 90 degrees on her heels, so I could see her profile. Her legs seemed unusually long due to her heels. Her behind protruded outward quite remarkably and was shimmering as a result of the spandex pants. My eyes were fixated on her posterior while she turned again and stood with her back to me without the slightest inhibition or awkwardness. She turned back toward me and told Steve and I to go sit in the living room and make ourselves comfortable. And to think I had always thought of Ana as being earthy! I told her she looked lovely, and I meant it. Ana brought us a couple of beers as we sat in the sofa. Bob opened up a photo book that was sitting on the coffee table next to the sofa, and began showing me photos he had taken of Ana while she still lived in Costa Rica. In each photo, she was wearing sandals, pumps or mules that were at least four inches high, and in many cases higher. She had quite a collection of jeans, corduroys and various kinds of dress pants, all of them quite snug. “Most single women in Costa Rica dress like this, and even some married women as well,” Bob said. “It’s a country that believes in a very potent, extroverted type of femininity. You walk around all day looking at women, and so is everyone else. And the women love the attention. It’s a great way to go through life.” From the sofa, we watched Ana putting plates on the dinner table. She wiggled very sensuously as she walked and then bent down to set everything up on the dinner table. I tried not to look too intently, as I felt embarrassed at the thought of staring at Bob’s wife in his presence. It was fantastic that Ana enjoyed dressing up in this way, but I felt a little uncomfortable that they wanted to include me in this sexy little ritual of theirs. “Dinner is served!” Ana said. We sat down and enjoyed Ana’s arroz con pollo, which is a simple dish of chicken and Spanish-style rice. We spent dinner engaged in small talk about work, people we know, and other ordinary things, and for a while the evening reverted into the kind of non-eventful get-together I had been expecting. Ana then got up and brought in cookies and coffee, and I got to see her wiggle all over again. As we sipped our coffee, Ana asked me again if I liked this previously hidden Costa Rican side of her. “Be very honest with me. I won’t take offense if you tell me you don’t like me like this, or if you feel I make you uncomfortable. I really want to know what you think.” I looked at Bob, as if to seek his approval to say what was on my mind. He nodded at me as if to say it was OK. I said, “Ana, you look great. I’m so impressed, I’m speechless. I wish Pam had dressed up more the way you are. I think you can teach a lot of women how to be sexy and look great. And I’m not just saying it. I mean it.” “I told you that Steve was cool,” Bob said to Ana. “Thank you, Steve.” She got up, kissed me on the cheek, and sat down again. “At this moment, you can’t understand how much this means to me. I have been dressing this way for Bob in the privacy of our home ever since we’ve been married. I want to explain to you why we wanted to share this aspect of our lives with you, and what we have in mind for the future.” (To be continued)

[gary0618]

OK Stu?

You gonna leave us hangin after that terrific build up?

Please don't wait too long for Part II.

By the way, is that true of costa rican women? If so, I know where my next vacation will be!

Gary0618

[Stu]

Gary: People who travel to Costa Rica and go straight to the rain forests are missing half the fun. If they only knew.... I should post the next installment in a couple of days. Thanks for the supportive note.

[RPMindy]

great beginning Stu. I like the story already. My girlfriend wants to go to Costa Rica. I don't know where she will choose to hang out. But, one of my friends just came back from it and went to visit the forest. NOw, i'm thinking of going myself to see the heels. But first, more installments. I can't wait!!!

[Stu]

Ana’s words jolted me a little bit, and I looked at Bob for reassurance. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “Hear her out.” Ana explained to me that women in high heels and tight clothing were ubiquitous in her native country. When she had been a young girl, she saw her mother, her aunts, and many of the women in her neighborhood wearing high heels on a daily basis. Most women did not even want to be seen in public unless they were in high heels. “Attitudes are different over there,” she said. “Costa Ricans worship beautiful women, and the women take their femininity very seriously. I grew up fully expecting to wear high heels every day of my adult life, and I looked forward to it. “When I was 16 years old, my parents bought me my first modest pair of two-inch heels, which I was allowed to wear to church and for special occasions. I remember how excited I was to walk up and down the aisles in church in my little heels. When I was 17, my parents bought me a pair of three-inch heels, which again were only for church and special occasions. When I turned 18, my family bought me a pair of beautiful 4-inch stiletto heels, and after I graduated from high school a few months after my 18th birthday, I was allowed to wear them anytime I wanted, without restriction. “I became a full-time wearer of 4-inch heels. I went everywhere in them. I loved to walk past groups of people in my heels and see their reactions. In Costa Rica, the national pastime is looking at women. Everyone looks at women – men and women, the young and old, even priests. Attractive young women are the pride of their community, and I was the pride of mine. I received compliments from my parents’ friends, and from people who were as old as my grandparents. Even my priest told me I had become a lovely woman. As I became more confident, I wore tighter clothing and added a sensual wiggle to my walk, and I received even more compliments. It may be hard for you to understand all this, but my culture greatly values femininity and physical expression.” “She’s not kidding. That really is the way things are down there,” Bob said. “It’s pretty clear that wearing high heels was very important for your self-esteem,” I said, feeling the need to participate in the discussion even though I did not know what to say. “Exactly!” Ana said. “In the United States, many women view high heels as a fashion option, as something to wear with a certain dress or during a certain occasion. In Costa Rica, high heels are a way of life, or as you would say, a lifestyle. For us women, they are an important part of our identity. “After graduating from high school, I got a job as a secretary. My parents, who were so proud of the way I dressed, assumed I would marry within a few short years. I did date a lot, but something about marriage did not sit well with me at that point. Many Costa Rican women quit their jobs and dress more conservatively when they get married, and they start having children. I did not want to do that. When I turned 24, I made a conscious decision to concentrate on my career, and to start wearing 5-inch heels.” “Is there something significant about 5-inch heels?” I asked. “Costa Ricans love 4-inch heels, but they also represent something of a barrier that most women never cross. Heels higher than 4 inches are considered too racy for women in their early 20s. They are also considered inappropriate for married women, except perhaps on special occasions. That means the only women who wear 5-inch heels regularly are single women who are at least in their mid-20s. Considering that many Costa Ricans marry in their early 20s, few women there wear 5-inch heels. “Consequently, there is a mystique about women who wear 5-inch heels in Costa Rica. They are supposed to be smart, sophisticated and authoritative, as well as sexy. People look very closely at women in 5-inch heels, and have high expectations of them. These women need to be able to handle themselves with poise in tough situations. At work, they need to be friendly and flirtatious when things are going well. But when difficulties arise, the woman is supposed to be the troubleshooter. If an employee is being rude to co-workers, she needs to be the one to tell the employee to improve his behavior. If employees are having disagreements among themselves, she becomes the mediator. It does not matter if she is actually the boss or not. A woman asserts a certain kind of authority for herself when she steps into a pair of 5-inch heels, and people expect her to use that authority competently. If she can, society awards her with a high social status and good job opportunities. If she cannot, she feels enough embarrassment over her shortcomings that she eventually stops wearing 5-inch heels.” “And you succeeded, I assume,” I said. “I proved myself in 5-inch heels,” Ana said proudly. “About the time I started wearing them, I was promoted to office manager. That was a big opportunity for a 24-year-old woman. I gave daily assignments out to other staff members. I dealt with problem employees. I greeted office visitors and made them feel welcome. I had to think about how to motivate people and solve problems. In addition to those kinds of intellectual skills, I also had to develop physical skills, given the acceptance and even the expectation in Costa Rica for women to use powerful body language. I learned how to use my eyes, my mouth, my heels and even my butt to reach those goals. To reward an employee, I would shoot them a sexy look with my eyes, smile and tell them how well he was doing. To express anger, I would stand as tall as I could in my heels, glare at the offending employee, and tell them why I was angry. People could tell my mood by the way I wiggled, as I developed a happy walk, a sexy walk, and an aggressive walk. And it all worked. My co-workers respected my authority, and management gave me pay raises.” “Some of that would not be considered politically correct here in the United States, especially the walking stuff,” I said. “I made no distinction between the intellectual and the physical. Whether I was putting together a work plan or walking through the office with a happy wiggle in my walk to let people know I was pleased, it was all about getting the job done to the best of my ability. Deciding to walk a certain way or flirt with a customer when the situation warranted was no different than telling an employee how a certain task was to be done. Of course, I was often the center of attention because of my feminine appeal, and I always enjoyed that.” Bob said, “The first time I visited her office, Ana blew me away. Here I was, this foreign visitor, and Ana did the full job on me. She was flirty as all hell, and incredibly sexy the way she dressed and walked. But she was smart, too, and she was able to get a lot of business done with me, in large part because she had my undivided attention. She was so good, I wanted her as more than just a business acquaintance.” Ana said, “I was an office manager in Costa Rica for three years, and then I married Bob and moved to the United States. I was excited about moving to such a big, dynamic country. I knew I would have to make adjustments here, but I always figured I would wear heels here and interact with people much as I had in my own country. But it did not work out that way. I got a job as a secretary, but in the second week of my job, my boss propositioned me and told me he would fire me if I didn’t accommodate him. I left the job, but the whole experience traumatized me. That was three years ago, and since that time, I have worn either flat shoes or very low heels, and loose, conservative clothing. I thought I was fitting in here. The problem is that those kinds of clothes are not me. Until tonight, you never saw the true me.” Ana stood up, stepped away from the table and turned to the side, so I could see her in profile. “Most people would assume that the way I am dressed now is an artificial attempt to be sexy, and is not the real me. But this is the real me. This is how I became a woman. This is how I achieved professional success in my country. This is who I want to be…again.” Bob said, “I encouraged Ana to dress up this way in private. I turned it into a sexual thing, as if she was wearing a negligee. But she wasn’t happy because for her, of course, it is not just about sex, it’s an expression of who she is. She wants to share it with others who are open-minded enough to appreciate her for her true self. We need to start somewhere, Steve, and we thought we would start with you.” “That’s really flattering,” I replied, as Ana sat down. “You need to be yourself, Ana. Let the world see you as you want them to see you. You can’t let one bad experience stop you from doing what you want to do. Perhaps it will be awkward at first, but once people realize that they are seeing the real you, they’ll respect and support you, just like I am now.” “Thanks, Steve,” Ana replied. “Bob told me he was sure you would understand. In Costa Rica, I constantly received compliments about my manner of dress from my family and friends, and later my co-workers. I fed off the energy they gave me. Here, I have almost nothing. I need your admiration, too. It means so much.” “You have it,” I said. Ana got up, walked over to me and she gave me a strong thank-you hug. She picked up our coffee cups and walked them back into the kitchen. After a few seconds of silence, Bob said, “Steve, I don’t know if you have plans for tomorrow night. Ana and I were planning to go to this Latin dance place that we frequent. Would you like to come with us? It would mean a lot if you could join us.” I said yes, of course I would join them. I left for home a few minutes later, wondering exactly what to make of the evening’s conversation and of this couple that, until that evening, I thought I had known pretty well. (To be continued)

[RPMindy]

oh man oh man!! Stu you got me anxious for the next installment. You have great writing style and technique. I can't wait to see how you do the suspense of the next story. I feel like I'm there watching the story unfold. Keep it up!! RPM

[Stu]

Hi, RPM. Thanks for your encouraging notes. By all means, go to Costa Rica and see the rain forests. The country had done more than most to preserve its natural heritage. Just make sure you leave enough time to spend several days in the capitol, San Jose, so you can enjoy the country's other attractions as well.

[Stu]

I arrived home that evening somewhat perplexed, and with my hormones raging as if I were still a teenager. I took a warm shower (it probably should have been cold), and then tried to go to sleep. But my mind was racing. I could not get Ana out of my head. I saw her in great detail: the way she had looked at me with her dark, brown eyes, the seductive smile she flashed after I complimented her, every curve of the lower half of her body enhanced as the result of her 5-inch heels and highlighted without shame under her spandex pants. I cursed out loud when I thought about what I was doing. Ana was married to one of my closest friends in the world. I had no right to think about my close friend’s wife in such a sexual way. I tried to banish her from my head, but she kept coming back, heels and spandex and all. And who could blame me for what I was thinking? Ana wanted me to see her that way. And Bob had sat there approvingly, as Ana shared her highly personal thoughts and feelings with me. So why should I feel guilty about finding her attractive? At the time, I was 31 years old, recently divorced, childless, and a technical writer in the computer field. My ex-wife and others I had dated before her were smart, practical, down-to-earth types; nothing in my background suggested that I was attracted to hot, flirtatious women who bounced around in ultra-high heels. Or was there? I recalled a memory from my earliest childhood that I thought it neat that women liked to walk around in high-heeled shoes. I also recalled having a raging hard-on on several occasions when my eighth-grade English teacher, Mrs. Whitaker, wore her knee-high, high-heeled leather boots. I could also picture a half-dozen women from recent years who stuck in my mind as looking terrific in high heels. So perhaps I did have a high-heel hot button inside me somewhere, but the women I had always associated with were not the kind who could push it down all the way. Perhaps Ana, in trying to resolve her own confusion about who she wanted to be, was stirring up some uncertainties inside me about my own identity. I suspected our night of dancing would provide more revelations…for all of us. Bob and Ana picked me up at my house early that evening. I could hear Ana’s heels clicking on the sidewalk as she walked up to the front door. Opening the door, I found it impossible not to stare at her. She was wearing a light-blue sweater, skintight white jeans, and what she soon confirmed were 5-1/2-inch white stiletto sandals. Her hair and makeup were perfect; she must have spent a lot of time during the day to get ready. “Tell me what you think, honestly,” she said with a flirtatious laugh. “Drop-dead gorgeous,” I deadpanned. “That’s the only term.” “I hope you’re not just saying that,” she said as she wrapped her arm around mine and we walked to the waiting car. The three of us drove for about 30 minutes to the area near the Latin dance hall, and then we stopped at a restaurant for something to eat. It was the first time Ana had been out in public in heels in three years, and she held hands tightly with Bob as we walked into the restaurant. She was a little nervous, but she handled it just fine, as she walked to our table with style and grace, and attracted a couple of looks from other diners in the process. After dinner, we proceeded to the dance hall. It had a nice upscale feel to it, with a big wooden dance floor, and a stage for the band. Most of the other patrons were Latinos, some talking in Spanish and others in English, and everyone was well dressed. The attire among the women ranged from long gowns to miniskirts, with only a few women like Ana in pants. There was a profusion of very high heels, and while no woman clearly outclassed Ana in that area, it was also true that Ana did not completely stand out in this crowd. It was a good choice for this first night’s coming out for her. I felt very liberated realizing that, as a bachelor once again, I could walk up to any of any number of lovely, unaccompanied women and ask them to dance. I resisted the urge to do so because this was Ana’s night, and even though her husband was here with here, it would have spoiled things if I had gone off on my own. My role for the evening was to be Ana’s admirer and supporter, and she made it easy for me to play that role. We ordered some beer, and meanwhile a salsa band took the stage and started to play. Bob and Ana waited a few songs and then took to the dance floor. It seemed to take Ana about three songs to start dancing comfortably, partly because she was no longer accustomed in a physical sense to dancing in such high heels, and also because she needed the time to feel relaxed about herself. By the middle of the third song, I could see that her familiar smile had returned, and she was dancing smoothly and naturally. At the end of the song, Bob returned to our table and Ana called me up to dance with her. “Dancing to salsa is different than dancing to rock ‘n roll,” she shouted to me over the music. “Salsa is more sensual. Once you begin to feel the music, you’ll move differently than you do with rock music. Just let it take over you.” After a couple of songs, I began to understand what Ana was saying. The horn section and the Spanish-language singer gave the tunes a heady international flavor, but it was the percussion that really drove the music. The African-driven beat of the drums, congas and maracas reverberated throughout the building, creating a primal urge to move one’s body that was nearly impossible to resist. I am generally a terrible dancer, but by the second song even I was swinging back and forth without giving matters a second thought. Ana was in a different zone entirely. She had given herself up totally to the music and began gyrating her hips and grinding her butt without any inhibition whatsoever. The earthy Latina-next-door I thought I had known for the last three years had fully emerged from her caccoon and had transformed herself into a sensuous salsa goddess who emitted 50,000 watts of femininity as she twisted back and forth atop her 5-1/2 inch heels. I looked at her with fascination as we continued to dance, and several of the people dancing around us were looking at her as well. Bob came up and joined us, and encouraged me to stay. The three of us danced for a couple of more songs. While staying in rhythm with the music, Ana approached Bob and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then did the same with me. This was clearly what she wanted, having two men to herself on the dance floor, and I was so happy to be able to give her this moment. We finally went to sit down and drank some more beer. Bob and Ana then got back up and danced some more, and then I danced with Ana while Bob excused himself to go to the restroom. My second go-round with Ana lasted about 30 seconds when the band began a slow, romantic number. Ana put her arms around me and we began dancing slowly. As I had noticed the night before, it was nice that she was almost at eye level with me, due to her high heels. Perhaps the combination of the beer, the music and the moment momentarily overwhelmed me, as I squeezed her firmly around the waist and held her against me. It was only then that I realized, to my horror, that I had a good-sized erection and that I was rubbing myself against her abdomen. I immediately loosened my hold on her and, while continuing to dance, took a partial step back so that I was touching only her arms and shoulders. Ana whispered, “It’s OK,” and she grabbed me around the waist and pushed me back against her. We danced that way for the remainder of the song, which continued for perhaps four minutes although it seemed like an hour. Part of me wanted to remain embraced with Ana like this for eternity, but another part wanted to disengage and sit down at our table before Bob returned. Bob was actually waiting for us at the table when we returned, but he saw nothing. Ana asked for some water, and Bob went off to the bar to get some for all of us. I felt incredibly dirty and embarrassed, as if I had broken the biblical commandment about coveting thy neighbor’s wife. I think I would have felt better if Bob had punched my lights out. Ignoring the fact that Ana had been a willing partner for those minutes on the dance floor, I looked at her and said, “I’m sorry.” “Sorry about what?” she replied, looking a little annoyed. “The way I danced with you. It was wrong.” “Why do you say that?” I struggled to come up with a way to answer her question. “Last night, when the three of us were talking, Bob and you explained that coming out like this, wearing heels and that sort of thing, that it was not about sex. Well, the way we danced just now, in close contact and with me touching you like that, it started to become about sex. It wasn’t right.” “Steve, did we have sex out there on the dance floor?” “Well, if you ask it that way, the answer is no, but…” “Steve, this was not about sex,” Ana said assertively as she began caressing my hand. “You’re right, my decision to come out tonight in these heels and pants was not about sex. But it was about being feminine and sensual. And, you know, it’s perfectly normal for a healthy man like yourself to respond to femininity and sensuality by, well, you know. I felt so special dancing with you just now, as if you validated everything I wanted this night to be. The last thing I want is for you to feel badly about this. Please don’t. Promise?” “OK. I promise.” Bob returned with the water, but our energy level had waned noticeably, and we left a short time later. Bob had consumed more beer than I had and handed me the keys to his car when we walked out to the parking lot. I drove while Bob and Ana sat in the back. They began to embrace like a couple of high school students when I heard Ana whisper, “It’s not fair to Steve,” and they stopped. “Well, I’d say the night was a total success,” Bob said. “Agreed,” I replied. “Ana, you were simply radiant. As much as I loved the old you, I love the new you even better.” Bob said, “I think the next step will be for Ana to wear heels next week at a place closer to home, maybe at one of the restaurants we like near our town center. There would be a better chance we’ll run into someone who knows us.” “That sounds good,” Ana said meekly. “I have two things to say,” I interjected. “Why are you two being so timid about it? If Ana wants to wear heels, then it’s time for her to wear heels, anywhere she wants and as often as she wants. Ana, why don’t you go to the supermarket tomorrow in heels, and do all your errands in heels? For that matter, why don’t you start wearing heels to work? Maybe three inches on Monday, wear those for a month, then go up to 3-1/2 inches, wear those for a month, then move up 4 inches, and so on until you get to 5 inches or whatever height you want. The sky’s the limit. You want to return to being a full-time high heel wearer, right? So do it.” “You’re right, Steve,” Ana said. “Tonight went really well. I’m ready for it. Thank you for the push. I think we both needed it. Now what was the second thing you wanted to say?” “The second thing is that I’m going to have to meet a Latin women who likes wearing heels. That’s what the last two nights have taught me.” “Brilliant, Steve,” Bob said. “Just a word of warning. Once you start dating women like Ana, there’s no going back. You’ll never want to go back to dating plain American women again. Trust me on that one.” “I’ll just have to figure out how to meet a Latina,” I said. “I can go back to this salsa place where we were tonight. But it is quite a drive. There are probably places to meet Mexican or Mexican-American women closer to home.” “I don’t know a lot about Mexican women,” Ana said. “But there is a large Salvadoran population not far from our area. I’ve known a number of women from El Salvador. Many of them are quite beautiful, and they’re great heel wearers.” “OK, Ana. That’s something to think about.” The rest of the drive home passed mostly in silence. I pulled up to my house, and Ana walked me up to my door while Bob got into the driver’s seat. As I unlocked the door, Ana put her hand on my shoulder. “You helped make this night so special for me, Steve. Thanks again. Bob picks very good friends.” She gave me a quick but not very platonic kiss on the lips. “And don’t take too long in finding your Salvadoran girlfriend,” she added. “There’s probably a lot of things the four of us can do.” I said goodnight and entered the house. The inside of my head was a swirling confusion of beer, salsa music, dancing, and Latin women in high heels. I hoped it would all make sense in the morning. (Coming next: An interview with Ana and Bob.)

[Stu]

Interview: Ana and Bob

Ana looks much the same now as she has for the last decade. She sits down on her couch wearing her trademark 5-inch stiletto pumps, and snug-fitting brown corduroy pants that prove that her regular workouts have kept her figure intact during this time. Bob, sitting next to her on the sofa, also remains in good physical condition, with the only concession to Father Time being a little gray in his sideburns.

Bear in mind that the events in the just-concluded story took place more than a decade ago, in the autumn of 1994. To help keep all interested readers current, I conducted this interview with them in late summer 2004. Ana brewed a pot of her world-famous Costa Rican coffee, which helped get the conversation off to a positive start.

Steve: Great coffee, Ana. Maybe I can start here by asking if you wear heels a lot today.

Ana: Absolutely, Steve. I wear heels every day, typically in the 4- to 5-inch range. About the only time I leave the house when I’m not in heels is when I go to work out at our fitness club three days a week. About the only other time I may not wear heels is when the weather is bad.

Steve: Any foot or tendon problems after all these years?

Ana: No. In addition to my workouts, I do stretching exercises at home every morning. I also choose my shoes carefully. Just the basic precautions.

Steve: Your motivation for wearing heels comes from your upbringing in Costa Rica. In fact, I’ve often heard you say that you were raised in a “high-heel culture.” Could you explain that?

Ana: If every computer or every car were to suddenly disappear tomorrow in Costa Rica, the country would continue on pretty much the same. But if all the high-heel shoes in Costa Rica were to disappear, the country would come to a crashing halt. You have to understand that Costa Rica is not a big and powerful country like the United States. We can’t pride ourselves on being the biggest and most powerful country in the world. But Costa Ricans believe firmly that they have the world’s most beautiful women. In that country, it is not narcissism for a young woman to look her best, it is virtually a patriotic duty. Consequently, high heels are an obsession with Costa Rican women. Many women literally will refuse to be seen in public unless they are wearing high heels.

Steve: And that was the case with you?

Ana: As your story mentioned, I started practicing in low heels as a teenager and then became a full-time wearer of 4-inch heels at 18. I moved up to 5-inch heels when I was 24.

Steve: And there was a lot involved in that decision, I understand. What motivated you to do it?

Ana: Yes, there was a lot involved. I had a high-school education, and bear in mind that at that time opportunities were very limited for women like me. You either got married and had children, or you had a low-level career as a secretary or, in my case, an office manager. I was not anxious to get married, and so I began closely observing single women who had worked their way up to positions of responsibility by their late 20s. They all had some things in common. For one thing, they all had street smarts – they knew their organizations and they knew how to get the day-to-day work done. They also learned how to deal with all kinds of people. In Costa Rica, this means using one’s feminine charms, but for a constructive purpose. Flirting is much more accepted in work situations there than in the United States, so flirting with male employees is a way to motivate them and reward them for good behavior. It is also a way of rewarding male patrons for their business. At the opposite end, women can be quite bitchy with problem male employees as a way of punishing them. These women learned how to use carrots and sticks.

Steve: So where do the heels come in?

Ana: Well, I noticed that the vast majority of these single career women wore 5-inch heels, which are considered too racy in Costa Rica for married women or younger single women. Five-inch heels give a woman an undeniable physical presence and also considerable power she can use to flirt with or intimidate a man, if need be. I both wanted and needed to wear 5-inch heels in order to achieve my goals. The ability to wear 5-inch heels is an important skill in that part of the world for a career-minded woman with only a high school education.

Steve: And tight clothing plays a part as well?

Ana: Costa Ricans, both men and women, wear tighter clothing than North Americans. That’s just part of our culture – we like to see the shape of people’s bodies. But, to be blunt about it, there is an element of our culture that is obsessed with women’s butts. Looking at women’s asses is the national pastime there. Boys, girls, men, women, even grandmothers and priests look at women’s butts. How can you avoid looking at women’s butts when they’re wearing high heels and tight pants? It is not something that is considered dirty or rude, as long as it is not accompanied by any other rude behavior. Similarly, women learn to communicate with the world with their butts. Young girls flirt with men, and even in the workplace, I learned to do it. It’s part of the flirting at work ritual I described. You put a little extra wiggle in your walk when it is warranted to motivate, compliment or thank a male employee or patron. It is entirely acceptable in Costa Rica.

Steve: And that’s how you hooked Bob?

Ana: (Laughs.) That’s right. Bob was a computer consultant who was going to help our office purchase software. I was the office manager who was showing him our software needs. I had heard he was coming and was really excited about the prospect of working with a North American man. When he first entered the office, he was so cute that he took my breath away. I gave him a Costa Rican welcome: while talking to him, I turned to the side just a little bit so he could get a nice glimpse of my curvy figure. It was politically incorrect by some people’s standards, but it did the trick.

Bob: Did it ever.

Steve: You care to elaborate on that?

Bob: OK, we Americans are used to a certain formality in our business dealings with women. Ana came on with her Costa Rican charm and just blew that all away. I thought Ana was the most wonderful, flirtiest, sexiest woman I had ever met. It was love at first sight. I just knew immediately I wanted her. But I am not alone. A lot of North Americans live and work in Costa Rica, and there is a very high intermarriage rate between North American men and Costa Rican women.

Steve: Since our audience has an interest in heels, I have to ask Bob: Had you been attracted to high-heeled women before you met Ana?

Bob: Well, yeah, pretty much. As a teenager, I always thought heel-wearing women were more attractive than women with big breasts. When I used to read Playboy magazine, the first thing I would look at when I opened the centerfold was whether the woman was wearing heels. But I never really obsessed over it. I dated plenty of women who were not heel wearers. But, yeah, when I met Ana, it was not lost on me that she wore 5-inch heels. I picked up on that real fast.

Steve: I’ll bet you did. Was it hard for you to decide to marry and have Ana move to the United States?

Bob: That was the only realistic choice as far as I was concerned. Ana talked about having me find a job in Costa Rica and settle down with her there, but it could not have worked. If you are in the computer industry, you need to be in the U.S.

Ana: I was afraid of leaving my family and coming to this big, unknown country. But I trusted Bob, and I was also adventurous enough to want to see the world outside of my little native country. I think that is why I rejected a lot of marriage offers from several local men before I met Bob. Instinctively, I knew I wanted to see the world.

Steve: But you had some difficulties when you moved here?

Ana: Yes, and the story goes into that a little bit. I did wear high heels at my first job, and I immediately had a sexual harassment issue with my first boss, although I did not know there was a name for it at that time. I just thought he was a sleazeball and there was nothing I could do about it. It was traumatizing. I felt I had better dress like a North American woman in order to fit in.

Steve: And, of course, that was frustrating.

Ana: When you move to a new country, you make adjustments in order to conform to the culture of your new land, but you do not quit being who you are. High heels had been a part of my identity, my being. Your readers probably understand this better than most. You walk different, you feel different in high heels. It is more than just fashion. Maybe it is a reflection of my native, heel-obsessed culture, but that is who I am. During those three years when I quit wearing heels, I would see other women in heels and I would ask myself, why can’t I do that? It took a long time to get over that traumatizing experience.

Bob: I did not make it any easier on Ana. She wore high heels in the house to please me during that period, but it was strictly a sexual thing for me. I was insensitive, and completely misread her on why heels were so important to her. That only made it worse for her. It took me a long time to understand.

Steve: However, anyone who reads the story about our night of dancing has to come away feeling that there were sexual overtones to it. Can you really completely divorce high heels from sex?

Ana: No, you cannot. Let’s be honest. You can rationalize wearing heels up to about 4 inches as simply an exercise in fashion. But if you go above 4 inches, you are getting into something beyond fashion, and at least part of that is sex. I grew up with that in Costa Rica. The question really is how you deal with the sexual aspect of heels if you wear them every day. In the United States, people tend to put boundaries between the intellectual and the physical, which is why women wear two-inch heels to work and four-inch heels or higher when they go out on dates. North American culture says it is OK to express yourself physically on a date, but not at work. In Costa Rica, there is no distinction. The intellectual and the physical lives of a person are inseparable. That is why it was OK for me to wear 5-inch heels and walk with a wiggle at work. A person’s body and their sex appeal are just as much who they are as their intellectual abilities. So, when I decided to come out and begin wearing heels again in the United States, it was no big deal for me to dance and flirt with you, and do the other things you describe.

Bob: It took me a while to become comfortable with this fusion of a person’s intellectual and physical qualities, as Ana puts it. Reading your story, Steve, I was struck by how hesitant I was to encourage Ana to simply start wearing heels again. The final push came from you, Steve. I was hung up with what I call the “trophy wife” issue. If Ana becomes this sexy high-heel wearer, is she simply becoming my trophy wife and am I comfortable with that? I was struggling with that a bit, even though I was so overwhelmed by her physical attractiveness when we met. Most men struggle with that, I guess. But once she started wearing heels again and was comfortable with who she was, I became comfortable as well. It has never been a problem. It is a pleasure to have a red-hot wife!

Steve: I am sure it is. Lastly, Ana, what kind of job do you have now, and has wearing heels on that job been a problem for you?

Ana: I supervise two dozen bank tellers at a local bank here in town. My days of wearing skintight pants to work are long gone, but I typically wear 5-inch heels about three or four days a week. It is not a problem. I work for a good organization. Sexual harassment is not tolerated there, and everyone accepts people for who they are. I am sort of affectionately known as the “heel girl” of the office. Women, especially new bank tellers, often ask me about my shoes, and over the years I have coached a handful of women into becoming heel wearers, although all at their request. I also enjoy the occasional compliments from men, especially when I wear a new pair of shoes to the office for the first time.

Steve: But you do not wiggle in the bank?

Ana: (Laughs.) Nothing intentional, if that is what you mean! Like I said earlier, you must be willing to make some compromises when you move to a new country. However, it is impossible not to have some noticeable movement in that area when you wear 5-inch heels. If people want to look, I have no problem with that. After all, we are a full-service bank! So I guess there is some of the old Costa Rican girl still in me after all these years.

Steve: Lastly, don’t you feel there is some irony in the fact that, as a married woman, you have had more freedom to wear 5-inch heels here in the United States than you would have if you had married and settled down in Costa Rica?

Ana: Yes, I am very aware of that, and so is Steve. There are indeed freedoms here that we very much appreciate. One of these days, I should paint a pair of my heels red, white and blue to honor my adopted country. God bless America!

(Note: The story will continue under a new thread, "The Second Sister: Maria.")

[raincat]

Hi Stu A most interesting "interview", indeed! Thank heavens that Ana found it within herself to resume her high heel wearing! I'm looking forward to finding out about the second sister. Keep up the good work.

[Stu]

Thanks for the supportive comments, Raincat. I'm glad Ana held your interest, and I hope Maria does, too.