Conversation
by Rhosymedre, rhosymedre at usa dot com

"Ford, what's --? This photo mesmerized you online last night, and now
you've taped copies all over the house! What's got into --? ...Ford?"

"Hmm? Babe, you know I can't hear you with the water running. Morning,
by the way." 

"Cut that out; you're still wet!... About *these*!"  

"Yeah? What -- you don't like my choice for new wallpaper?"

"Whuhh! Hon, be serious. Please. What fascinates you about a woman on
her toes?" 

"Sure it's a woman? Nothing above mid-calf..." 

"Based on the curves...let's assume. You feeding a clunky-heels fetish,
Hon?" 

"Nope. Try again."

"Okay. You decided to trade me in for a height-challenged model and
this is your quirky 'Dear Jane' message?"  

"Ha. No. I'm still wild about the 5' 9" Amazonian I wed and bed. Dove,
quit fixating on the shoes. Shift focus, girl."

"Mmm...I know. You and your writer's mentality wove a whole story about
why she's poised at the glass door. You're going to submit it to
Harper's. Hmmph. Maybe Reader's Digest."

"You're lukewarm --"

"You're getting off on her waiting for someone or seeing someone
off.... But her angle's weird. The wood casing blocks her view, I
think. Did you just ignore that and pretend her view of fuzzy gray
buildings or a sound wall is unobscured..."

"I invoke the Fifth. You're getting hotter, but explore why she's
muscle-added to her artificial two inches."

"She saw the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes van drive up and
she's stretching to track Ed McMahon puff to the door and award her a
million smackers?"

"Clever, babe. Send *that* to Reader's Digest. But it happens I did a
little digging and this pic is one of a series..."

"Hey. You withheld evidence when you asked me to analyze? No fair."

"I'm disclosing now. She had visitors. She stood alone with a
casually-shod man for a while. Perhaps she missed him the moment he
started for his car or the subway or wherever and aimed to keep him in
sight as long as possible."

"So, honeystick, your hopelessly romantic soul bonded to this austere
photo because you picture this anonymous woman toed up precariously
high to catch a last glimpse of her beloved?

"Not quite..."

"Well *what* then? I give up."

"I imagine her lover whispering to her as he departs, 'Up for me. On
the balls of your feet. That's it. After I latch the door behind me,
place your hands high and flush on the wood stile and freeze until you
hear me leave a message on your machine. Then only may you relax. Phone
me back immediately. If you come off your toes too soon, little one,
I'll return and tumble your shapely ass over my knee again. I'll pave
cranberry red over that flamingo pink!'  He kneads her stinging, bare
nates under the black shift -- the sole garment besides her high-heels
and thigh-highs he allows her on these occasions -- and is gone."

"Ford?"

"Yes, my kinkstress Dove?"

"Let's go buy *me* some killer heels."   

_____________________________________

SSC 04 Entry for picture category, the photo labeled "Conversation".
500 words.