Her tan stockinged toes curled over the bottom rung of the stool and her long slender legs were crossed at the knee. One hand was braced against the tabletop and the other hand on top of the wood handrail, which was supported by thick glass panels. In the gap between the glass panels, her bare stockinged heel rested on polished metal with her other shoe dangled precariously from the tips of her toes.
"How do I get myself into these things?" Gina asked herself. She wasn't much for blind dates in the first place, and she didn't like heights, and truthfully, she wasn't all that crazy about coffee. She had agreed to meet Andrea and Andrea's cousin, Brett, for a cup of coffee. Low risk, right?
But then Andrea had called and said she had car trouble, but she couldn't reach Brett to cancel, so this had turned into a blind date of sorts. Then when she got to the mall, she found out that The Coffee Caf�, was not actually a caf� at all, it was just a walkup counter where the only tables where out in the mall, right up against the railing, and overlooking the fountain fifty feet below. To make matters even worse, the tables were chest high with two tall bar stools, which made the handrail seem way too low. And the coffee, it was just awful.
And now this. She leaned toward the handrail cautiously, feeling her stomach vote against the maneuver. She glanced down to see her white knuckles at the edge of the handrail, trembling fingers clutching the wood. She craned her neck to peer over, but she couldn't see it. She leaned a bit further and caught a glimpse of navy blue before pulling back quickly. Gina drew a deep breath and leaned forward again, determined to conquer the irrational fear. She could see it clearly now, an exquisite arc of navy blue suede crowned with two interlocking "C" emblems facing opposite directions. "Could there be a more impractical shoe?" she wondered, as she watched the expensive Chanel pump dangle from her toes.
She had been minding her own business, sipping coffee, and reading a magazine. The mall was mostly empty on a Sunday afternoon, and most of the few shoppers left were heading for the doors. They were going to meet at 4:30, have an early dinner, and maybe catch a movie, but she was early and had some time to kill. Almost immediately after sitting down, she had slipped her heel out of one shoe wedging the rung of the stool between the shoe and her stockinged foot. The shoes were actually a half size too small, but they were beautiful, and they were Chanel, and most importantly, they were on sale. As she rubbed her arch over the smooth laquer finish, the shoe came loose and fell to the floor. When she stood up to retrieve the shoe, she thought that she should be more careful about dropping them on the floor, since they were suede, and they were Chanel. She slipped her heels out of the shoes a few times after that, but each time one would creep down to her toes, she would extend her leg and jiggle the shoe back into place before it could fall. Several times, she saw guys that might be her blind date, and quickly pressed her heels into her shoes, using the glass wall in front of the table to press up against. When it was past 4:30, she had decided that he would be there at any moment. She had checked her makeup and worked her toes most of the way into one shoe, pushing against the glass to work her heel the rest of the way into it. Her other shoe unexpectedly fell to the floor and as she reached down for it, her shoe slipped off the glass, and through the opening between the panels. She had instantly regained her balance, but when she tried to pull her foot back through the opening, her heel suddenly slipped out of the shoe again.
That was a half an hour ago. And although she hadn't been able to move the heavy table out of the way, she had successfully switched chairs without loosing her shoe. She inched closer to the handrail again, eyeing her beautiful Chanel pump, hanging in the air. The opening between the glass panels was only about six inches wide, and chrome anchor plates connected the panels together about every six inches vertically. She had accidentally pushed her foot through the square opening, but her dangling shoe would not fit back through unless she could get her heel back into it. She tried moving the table again, but it was just too heavy, and even if she could, she wasn't sure she could reach the shoe with her hand. Where were the security guards around here, or a waiter, or anybody. All of the shops in the food court must close early on Sundays. Maybe she should ask one of the guys leaning against the rail on the other side of the atrium. Those two were acting like they didn't notice her, but she could tell they were watching. And that couple over there, every time his wife looked away, the man glanced over at her. She pushed her skirt down nervously and returned her attention to the dangling shoe.
Brett looked at his watch again. He was already fifteen minutes late to meet her, but on the other hand, she didn't appear to be going anywhere very soon. She was a nice looking girl, he thought, although she was mostly facing away from him. He knew he should get down there and save her, but he was transfixed by the situation, and he just couldn't tear himself away from it. He watched her as she turned her foot to one side, trying to fit the shoe diagonally through the hole with near disastrous results.
"NO!" she hissed under her breath. That was a close call. She had almost worked the shoe through the opening, but it had nearly slipped off that time, and was barely caught on her big toe, where it was swinging currently. She held her breath as she watched the shoe twist and rotate 90 degrees around until it hung along side her arch, touching the inside of her ankle. You've got their attention now, she told herself, as she surveyed the onlookers across the atrium again. The toe of the pump pointed skyward, and the low cut center was hanging in the notch between her first and second toe. She curled her toes to see if she could get them back inside the shoe, but it only rotated further, and threatened to come off. It occurred to her that perhaps if she could get her other foot through the opening and grab the shoe with both feet. She carefully slid the stool up closer to the rail and placed her stockinged arch on top of her ankle, carefully not to jiggle it in any way. "Slowly" she told herself, as she wiggled her foot through the tiny opening a little at a time, inching ahead with her stocking clad toes.
"Unbelievable," he actually said it aloud and was startled by the sound of his own voice. He was almost directly above her now, as he watched her extend her stockinged foot through the glass, being careful not to disturb the precarious shoe hanging off of her the other foot. From this vantage point he could see that her foot was gorgeous, thin, with a high arch, and slender perfect toes, polished a dark red, at least the nine that were visible at the time. Now she was gripping the shoe between her feet trying to work her toes back into it. A moment later, the shoe was completely off and all of her toes were lined up in a perfect row, ruby red polished gleaming under tan stockings. Watching her feet working the shoe was hypnotic, as she eventually got the shoe up and sideways across the top of her foot, so the shoe was right side up, and her lovely toes were peeking out from under the arch of the sole, flexing upward to hold it in place while she worked her other foot into it. She nearly had it all the way on, but at the last second, the shoe tipped over and got away. She managed to snag the stiletto heel between her feet, but she was out of options. She sat helplessly with both feet completely bare and legs extended in front of her, desperately pinching the very tip of the spike heel between her feet as the toe of the shoe hung pointing downward to the water. Brett looked for the stairs, and headed towards them at a run, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to help her.
"Nice job," she told herself, looking around for any signs of assistance, but expecting none. It was past 5:00 and most of the stores were closing. There was just no way that she was going to get her shoe back, she had been stood up by a blind date, her fear of heights was undiminished, and she hadn't really touched her coffee. In the end, she just decided she would go home and call it a day.
She pulled her stockinged foot through the small opening and then heard the splash far below as she withdrew the other leg. She cast a withering stare onto the unhelpful spectators across the atrium, and they all found other things to look at all at once. She stood up in her stockinged feet and stretched her stiff legs just in time to see a maniac rushing toward her.
"Gina?" he managed to gasp out between breaths.
Great. This is just great. As if things couldn't get any worse, my goddamn shoe falls into the pool, and now my blind date shows up to meet me in my stockinged feet. She put the thought out of her mind for the moment. What to do next? She could say she wasn't Gina, but it was Andrea's cousin and she would find out sooner or later. He was bent over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath, staring at her feet no doubt. But he was kind of cute.
"Gina?" he asked again. He forced himself to stand up and pull his gaze away from her incredible stockinged feet, which were kneading and gripping at the tile floor.
"You must be Brett," she said, trying to sound calm and self assured, although she felt neither.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he began. "I saw you from upstairs, and I ran down as fast as I could." That much was true at least, but he hoped she didn't press him for any details.
"Well Brett, you seem like a nice guy, but as you may have noticed, I'm not really dressed for dinner," she said. They both stared at her stockinged feet for a moment longer. "Maybe I could have a rain check and we could get together some other time?"
"Sure," he said glancing longingly at her stockinged feet again. Beautiful, everything about her. "I understand completely. Maybe I could at least walk you to your car?"
"That would be nice," she said.
He bent over to pick up her empty shoe, stealing another close up of her elegant feet, and they walked toward the elevator.
"I'm really sorry about your shoe," he said, exiting the elevator at the ground floor.
She felt very self-conscious walking barefoot through the center court, and was glad for the company as they walked along. "Chanel makes a nice shoe," she said, looking over her shoulder at the fountain.
Brett stopped walking. "You know who else makes a great shoe?" he asked. "Timberline," he said, looking down at his own shoes. "They're supposed to be waterproof, you know," he added, stepping over the fountain wall and wading across the knee deep water to the center, and fishing out a blue suede ladies shoe.
Gina laughed with delight as he waded back toward her, splashing a huge puddle onto the floor as he stepped out of the fountain. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, soaking her stockinged feet on the wet carpet.
"This date is off to a great start," he said, offering his hand to her. As they walked along, he added, "and as for being dressed for dinner, it depends on where you plan to eat. I passed a Dog N Suds drive-in on the way here, and my car is not far from here."
"It's a date,then," she said.
