Maria hurried to catch up to Sarah just as the entered the hallway to the conference room. "Don't even try anything today," she told Sarah. "I've got new clients coming in after lunch, and I may have to go on a tour of a development they are working on."
"Why, whatever do you mean?" Sarah said, in a sweet, but mocking voice.
"You know exactly what I mean and I'm not kidding," she said firmly. Sarah had been the recipient of Maria's last prank almost two weeks before. Maria was ahead in their little game, and she suspected that her friend was plotting to even the score. She smiled, remembering the look on Sarah's face when she had "accidentally" nudged Sarah's dangling shoe off of her toes, and under Mr. Stoddard's desk. Twenty minutes of Sarah stretching her long legs and searching with her stocking clad toes had failed to retrieve it, and if Stoddard hadn't been called from the room, there was no telling what would have happened.
"What's with the bag?" she asked. Sarah was pulling a carry-on bag behind her.
"One O'clock flight back to Colorado," Sarah replied, but did not elaborate.
"The airport," Maria thought to herself. The "game" had started in an airport in Atlanta. Sarah had lost her shoe on a flight, and ended up attending a convention with one shoe and one stockinged foot. Maria had saved her from having to give a speech in her stockinged feet in front of about a thousand people. While they were sitting waiting for the return flight, Sarah had snatched the shoe right off of Maria's foot and run through the airport with it. It was funny at the time, she had to admit, but it definitely called for retaliation. They had traded shoe tricks back and forth for months after that, but her last point had gone unanswered for weeks. It was starting to worry her. She knew that Sarah was the competitive type, and would want to even the score. When nothing happened, she imagined that Sarah was planning something big. Once last week, she had even baited Sarah, standing in a doorway with her back to her, pretending not to see her, and dipping out of her shoe. Go ahead, she thought, as Sarah had approached, kick the shoe away and have your fun, just get it over with, but Sarah had just walked on past. She knew it was coming though, and it was almost a phobia after another week passed without incident. Sooner or later, Sarah would snatch her shoe in a restaurant or taxi, getting even for the prank in Mr. Stoddard's office.
As they entered the conference room, Maria was relieved to see that there were only two seats left and they were not together. Sarah sat at the end of the table, but just as Maria was about to sit down, Mr. Stoddard suggested that Jenkins move so that Maria and Sarah could sit together for their joint presentation. Sitting with Sarah to her left now, Maria kept her boots well under her chair and listened as Sarah laid out the overview of the report they had prepared together. It was accompanied by a powerpoint presentation of charts and graphs that were shown on the monitor in the corner of the room. As Maria retrieved her notes from her briefcase next to her chair, she saw that Sarah had her left leg crossed over her right knee, and was dangling her left shoe nearly vertically. Her right shoe lay empty and turned on its side, just inches from her tan stockinged foot. Because the conference table had pedestals at both ends that were nearly as wide as the tabletop, no one else at the table could see the empty shoe. As Sarah continued her discussion, she pressed the stocking clad toes of her right foot into the carpet in a slow rhythm causing her left foot to swing ever so slightly, the heel of her dangling pump clicking softly against the table, but just loud enough for Maria to hear. What an obvious trap, Maria thought. As if Sarah had heard her thoughts, she rocked her right heel up off of the carpet and the heel of the dangling pump tapped against the table a little bit faster, and slightly louder.
As Sarah talked, her fingers danced across the keys of her laptop advancing the presentation charts. Her gaze alternated between her laptop and the display monitor in the corner, never even looking in Maria';s direction. "It would be so easy," Maria thought to herself, eyeing Sarah's empty shoe under the table again. Easy, except that her right leg was crossed over her left, and rearranging herself might attract Sarah's attention. Her pant leg receded as she extended her left boot slowly, pausing every few seconds glance up at Sarah. Looking down again, the toe of her boot was nearly touching Sarah's empty pump. She looked up again and saw that she was well beyond Sarah's field of vision. She almost had it, but her ankle was against the pedestal of the table and she couldn't quite reach the shoe.
Maria looked down at her boot. There was a word to describe these boots, she thought, and that word was "ugly". They were brown lace up ankle boots, with medium heels and a rounded, but pointed toe. Maybe not ugly, she thought, but certainly not her style at all. They were hot, and she thought they looked like granny boots, but she had bought them for one reason: They had laces with ten eyelets, and were really tight and secure. The saleslady must have thought she was crazy when she tried them on in the store, and then attempted to pry them off without untying them first. Sarah had been with her at the time, and had objected to her purchase, admitting that they would be pretty tough to steal. Maria had worn them every day this week, hoping to foil whatever plan Sarah was conjuring up. A pair of coffee colored socks completed the matronly ensemble.
"And speaking of steal," she thought, and tried to reach the empty shoe again. If she could just shift in her seat and get a slightly better angle. She cautiously slid her ankle past the corner and her shoe crept forward as she slouched slightly in her chair, stretching, until her boot was almost on top of Sarah's empty pump.
"...and Maria has done considerable investigation into the availability of venture capital for a project of this size..." Sarah continued, and turned toward her. Instantly, Maria felt Sarah's toes press hard on the inside of her heel, just under her ankle. Suddenly, her boot was firmly pinned to the base of the table by Sarah's foot. As she completed her portion of the presentation, Sarah leaned back in her seat, appearing to be relaxed, but gripping the table hard with both hands, applying even more pressure to the heel of Maria's boot.
All eyes turned to Maria as she shuffled her notes and began to talk about venture capital. She was still slouched in her chair and leaned forward awkwardly to see the screen of the laptop. "A project of this magnitude will require financing beyond conventional methods," she began, as she felt Sarah's other stockinged foot work at the laces of the boot. "Ha! Double knot!" she thought, momentarily loosing her place. Sarah's knuckles were white, gripping the edge of the table, but her smile was perfectly calm and serene. There was no sign of the struggle going on below the table. Sarah pushed both of her stockinged feet hard against Maria's boot, pinning it solidly, but not pulling it the slightest bit. Maria's confidence soared as she continued the presentation. She looked directly at Sarah and smiled brightly as she spoke, "...and the projected cash flow from third year revenue is shown in figure 7 on the monitor." She turned to look at the monitor, which was displaying figure 6.
There was a long pause, as everyone looked at the wrong chart on the screen. "I'm sorry," Sarah whispered, "did you need this?" Sarah turned the laptop toward Maria and pushed it toward her until it was half a foot beyond her reach. Maria leaned forward, but could not reach the keyboard with out leaning forward or standing up. Sarah's eyes were gleaming as she smiled passively at her friend, and turned away to look out the window. The long pause continued as everyone else looked at Maria expectantly. Maria yanked her boot back hard, bumping her knee loudly on the table base. She had pulled back just enough to reach the laptop, but failed to free the boot from underneath Sarah's stockinged feet. To her dismay, her heel was almost halfway out of the top of the boot, and the laces where straining. Maria felt Sarah'; toes moving over the top edge of the ankle boot, discovering her partially exposed heel. She jumped involuntarily when Sarah's toe pressed into her arch, losing her place in her notes, and losing precious millimeters in the battle for the ugly boot.
"As I was saying, figure seven indicates that..." Maria continued the presentation, still giving no indication of the struggle ensuing under the table. Sarah was thrusting her toes into the side of the boot now, wiggling in underneath Maria's arch, trying to tickle her into retreat. It was working, and her heel was more than halfway out of the boot. She envisioned herself stranded here with one granny boot, and suddenly wished that she had not worn the mannish looking socks. It was as if Sarah was a mind reader today. She stopped working her foot under Maria's arch and curled her toes over the top of the sock, sliding the sock down over Maria's heel in one fluid motion.
"Alternative methods of capitalization fall into three basic categories, first..." Maria continued in an unsettled voice, glancing down briefly to evaluate the situation. She knew she should give up the damn boot and at least salvage her sock, but she was still in control of the situation, if only marginally. If she could casually rearrange her chair, maybe she could get her other leg free to defend her embattled boot. Before she could maneuver, Sarah was trying a new strategy, and she felt nyloned toes working up and down her ankle, causing her to squirm in her seat. Suddenly, she felt Sarah's silken toes slide down her arch, dipping inside of her sock. Sarah was not pulling at her shoe anymore, in fact she was barely moving at all, just resting her toes underneath the arch of Maria's foot, but well inside of her sock.
As Maria described another financing scenario, Sarah turned her ankle moving her heel from side to side, resulting in the slightest movement of her toes under Maria's arch. She wanted to scream as the warm nylon tickled her sole. For a full minute, she barely maintained her composure, and finally, she could not stand another second of it. She jerked her foot back abandoning her ugly boot, and loosing her sock in the process. She felt a rush of cool air on her naked foot, as Sarah grinned at her.
"Alright, you've won, PLEASE give it back" she wrote on her notepad, and pushed it across the table to Sarah. Sarah tore the top sheet from the note pad and crumpled it in her hand. As Maria brought up another graph, she glanced under the table and was dismayed to see that Sarah had collected both pumps, and the boot with the sock hanging out of it, kicking them into a pile well out of her reach. Now Sarah was dangling Maria's brown boot from the tips of her toes, waving it around in small circles. Sarah put her foot into the top of the boot and it dangled from the tips of her toes until she could grab the boot and sock with her hand. Then she pushed her feet firmly into the matching pair of pumps that remained, and returned her full attention to Maria's presentation.
PLEASE!!! Maria wrote on the notepad, but Sarah just turned it over and looked away.
Maria continued to explain alternative capitalization in her most profession voice, but her attention drifted to Sarah again. She stammered and stopped mid-sentence when Sarah suddenly turned away and loudly unzipped the carryon bag that was next to her chair. She had lost her place again, and when she finally recovered, her voice sounded dry and raspy. She pause and took a long sip of water from the glass in front of her.
Sarah took advantage of the lull in the conversation. "Oh I'm so sorry," she said sincerely to the room," I have a flight to catch and I have to leave." She looked at her watch for dramatic effect. Maria was caught in mid-gulp, coughed and sputtered nearly spraying water on the computer in front of her. "The balance of the report concerns finance, and that is Maria's area of expertise." Without another word, Sarah left the room pulling the carryon bag behind her.
"Excuse me for one moment please," Maria managed to choke out. Wiping her chin, she ran out of the room after Sarah. She nearly knocked her down, unexpectedly finding her standing directly outside the door. "Give me my boot!" she said firmly.
"Gimme my bootie," Sarah laughed as she mimicked her in a childish voice. "If you could have seen the look on your face!" Sarah continued to laugh.
"I want my damn boot!" Maria said. "I told you, I have clients coming in today and I am not meeting them in my bare feet!"
"You have such cute little toes, and besides, I'm sure someone in your department will loan you a shoe," Sarah teased. "Oh I forgot, the rest of the finance department are all men. Anyway, I left your precious little bootie under the table, see?" Sarah pointed to where she had been sitting, where a brown ankle boot lay on the floor. "I don't know why you bought those silly things in the first place. Did you think I would shy away from a challenge?"
"Ha Ha, very funny," Maria said humorlessly. She was annoyed to be standing in the middle of the office with one bare foot, and more annoyed that she had worn those hot uncomfortable boots for a week to no avail. Her white foot and red nail polish stood out in high relief against the gray carpet, her brown suit, and the remaining brown ankle boot. She looked through the doorway at the boot under the conference table. After a long pause, she had to admit defeat. "Have a good trip," she said, and smiled.
Sarah waved over her shoulder as she headed toward the elevators.
Maria sat down in the chair that Sarah had previously occupied. She didn't think that anyone had noticed her lack of footwear yet. "I apologize for the interruption. As I was saying, the required market share to offset the initial..." Maria fished the boot from under the chair and after failing to locate her sock, attempted to work her bare foot into it, but it was tied too tightly. Without interrupting her presentation, her toes hooked the tongue and she picked the boot off the floor, crossing her legs. Without being obvious, she pulled the boot toward her hand, but she accidentally dropped it, making a noticeable clatter under the table. She pretended not to notice the sound and continued to bore the room with facts and figures. Snagging the boot again with her bare toes, she repeated the slow process until eventually, she held the boot in her hand. She had accomplished the task without attracting any attention to herself she thought, and she finished the presentation before looking down.
"What happened to the laces!" She had nearly said it out loud. She looked around the table and luckily, several other conversations were going on now. Looking back at her boot, it was laced tightly, but there was no knot at the top. It appeared that one continuous lace went from eyelet to eyelet, and there were no ends to tie. She pointed the toe of the boot toward the floor and examined the inside. "Real funny," she remarked silently. Sarah had started the lace at the top and laced the boot so that it was tied on the lowest eyelet and on the inside of the boot, all the way at the base of the tongue. Just for good measure, she had tied the largest knot Maria had ever seen. She could just barely touch the Gordian knot with her fingertips, and she knew she could not begin to untie it.
The conversation was dwindling and the meeting was beginning to break up. Maria gathered her things and selected the most opportune time to excuse herself, carrying her boot on top of her briefcase. As she exited, she had nearly made a clean escape when Mr. Stoddard called her name.
"Maria, that was an excellent presentation. The bankers want to review the numbers but they said they will get back to us by Friday at the latest."
"Thank you Mr. Stoddard." Maria replied, turning away and anxious to retreat to her office. Stoddard said something else and she was trapped there in the center of the busiest hallway on the floor. They continued to talk and she continued to make uncomfortable conversation, shifting her weight nervously from her shod foot to the tips of her bare toes. Stoddard rambled on about something or other, and looked straight at her bare white foot for a good portion of the conversation. Each time he looked up, she expected him to remark on her missing boot, but he just prattled on about acquisition opportunities. The bankers were filing past as she and Mr. Stoddard continued to block the hallway. Several of the bankers smirked in the general direction of her exposed toes, but none of them made eye contact with her. Finally, Stoddard ran out of wind and she clomped her way unevenly across the building to her office.
Back in her office, she found some knee-highs in her desk drawer, and wished she had brought an extra pair of shoes. She unlaced her remaining boot and took off her sock. Her mood improved as she applied the tan hosiery. It was not unheard of for someone to sit in her own office in stockinged feet, was it? And besides, she had located a letter opener that could probably work through the knot inside of the boot. She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes until the people from Sterns were due to arrive. She worked the first part of the knot loose in under a minute. If she worked fast, she could probably..
"Mr. Benton and Mr. Grant are here for your appointment," her receptionist announced through the speakerphone.
"Tell them I'll be down in a minute," she replied sounding annoyed, and looking at her watch.
After five more minutes, she had managed to untie the lace and she hurriedly inserted her foot into the top of the boot. It was still really tight though, and she loosened the laces a little more. She tried the boot again but it was still impossibly tight. She removed the lace completely, but still could not fit her heel into the boot. Maria examined the boot incredulously. Examining it more closely, it occurred to her that the sole was smooth, without a scratch on it. Retrieving the other boot from the carpet, she saw that the sole was already showing signs of wear. As she held the boots up pressing the soles together, it became clear that this was not a matching pair. Examining the inside of the boot with the shiny sole, she saw that it was marked size 5 �.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the post-it note on the corner of her computer screen. It said "You're a size 5 �, right?" and it was signed S.
"Devious Bitch," she hissed under her breath, and hurled the boot into the corner. She looked up to see the receptionist standing in the doorway looking puzzled. "Mr. Benton and Mr. Grant are still in the lobby. Shall I show them in?" she asked.
"Give me a minute, and then send them in."
The receptionist disappeared and Maria scrambled to collect her boot from the top of the credenza where it had landed. She put on the boot that was her size, and then pushed her foot into the size 5 � boot, flattening the back like a clog, and letting it dangle from her toes. It was better than meeting guests in her stockinged feet, she decided, and after she stepped on the heel a few times, she found that although her heel hung an inch off the back of the boot heel, she could wear it like a clog if she stepped slowly and carefully. She strode confidently into the hallway to greet her approaching guests, but walked awkwardly out of the boot as she rounded the first corner.
"I'm Mr. Benton and this is Mr. Grant from our London office," said the taller of the two men. Maria steadied herself against the door frame and fished the boot back from the center of the hall, turning it upright with her toes. Her guests politely ignored the struggle as she attempted to wriggle her foot into the boot, finally succeeding.
"Please come in," she said pleasantly, backing in through the office door and losing the boot yet again. Mr. Benton actually kicked the empty boot, but politely pretended not to notice. As Mr. Grant and Mr. Benton sat in the guest chairs in front of her desk, she hurriedly bent down to pick up the boot with her hand, and returned to her seat behind the desk. Mr. Grant had produced some materials from his briefcase and set them on Maria's desk, a modern looking chrome frame with a glass top. As she struggled again to fit into the empty boot, she thought she saw him looking at her foot through the glass tabletop.
With her foot mostly inside of the boot again, Maria returned her full attention to her visitors. Almost immediately, the boot slid down to the end of her toes and dangled there, swaying silently as if to some unheard music. Mr. Grant went through the materials he had prepared, and Maria paid close attention, asking some relevant questions at several key points. The boot dangled precariously from her toes, and she lost it twice, although both times she recovered quickly. She noticed that Grant seemed flustered and stopped speaking whenever the boot threatened to fall from her extended leg. It was sort of appealing, in a boyish way, she thought, her mind drifting slightly. Actually, this Grant fella was kinda cute, and she loved the way the English talked.
The boot dropped from her toes and fell to the floor, cracking loudly on the plastic chair mat under her chair, and startling her out of her distraction. Grant choked on the next word, and his eyes went wide, staring at her stockinged foot through the glass tabletop. Not too professional she thought, but was not particularly put off by him. On a whim, she left the boot on the floor flexing her ankle and bare toes, all the while smiling pleasantly at Mr. Grant, who had apparently forgotten the English language, and was turning a pinkish red.
"Are you alright Mr. Grant?" she asked politely, and his eyes immediately left her foot and snapped up to meet her gaze.
"N-n-n-n-n..." he stammered looking blankly at her.
"Would you like some water or something Mr. Grant?" she asked, becoming concerned.
"N-n-n-n-n..." he began again, before he recovered. He took a deep breath and smile at her. "N-N-.Nigel," he finally blurted out. Then in a soft and controlled London accent, "Please call me Nigel," smiling warmly.
Maria looked squarely at Nigel Grant. He was sort of dopey, but she found herself being won over by his shy and boyish charm. "Would you like some water or something Nigel?" she asked.
"I'm quite alright, thank you"; he replied politely.
"Well then," Mr. Benton interjected, ";perhaps we should go for lunch first, and then we can take you on a tour of the project this afternoon?"
Maria was looking at Nigel again. He was watching her fish her boot from the floor and he seemed as though he might start to giggle like a schoolgirl at any moment."I'll get my coat," she said.
It was going to be an interesting afternoon.
Snowman