Sunday, February 28, 2010

They're here

I imagine that the hands that built them had no idea of the power the raw materials they used to craft them would possess. They were simply cutting along the lines of the pattern they had by now memorized, sending them off to the room filled with whirring sewing machines, to be stitched and shaped. To all the hands who had held them so far, they were just objects, articles of clothing - weird, even unnatural certainly - but simple garments nonetheless. Out of the factory, onto the truck that would carry them to the distribution center, these shiny assassins lay in domicility within their long, white cardboard box.

They still, at this point, were well over a month away from arriving into my hands. Final negotiations with the saucy supplier over which method of payment, followed by shipping preferences were to take place. And then, they would make their long journey from way down under, eventually, gradually, aggravatingly slowly to my door.

I conjur up a storyline that says somewhere along their voyage to me they were momentarily re-routed, landing themselves in the darkened lair of a malevolent sorcerer. In his hands, he would slowly dip them into some black magic liquid, chanting ancient, mysterious words, fully possessing them with a demonic spirit that would be unleashed upon the mortal in whose hands they would eventually land. This is the only way i can believe that they would have so much power over me once they finally did arrive.

I'd come home from work, having finished a very, long day, looking for some peaceful quiet with my girl. To my surprise, there, awaiting my arrival was the long, white box. I knew immediately what lay inside. My hands burned as i held the box and made the ascent to our apartment. I may not have noticed at the time, but slowly, a pool of saliva had begun to collect in my mouth. Even through their case, their power seeped, ultimately corrupting my mind. By the time i put the key in the door, my skin was tingling, my ears buzzing, my blood coursing. I quickly shut the door behind me so as to keep discreet the immense erection that had expanded in my suit pants.


goodgirl said...

Deity, Sir
They are true poetry. What a lucky man and what a lucky girl you have.


Anonymous said...

I left you and Ms. Du Vert a little inspiration over on Tumblr, you lucky bastard.


doll said...

My goodness they are simply delicious and I am very envious.

Anonymous said...

They're beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Two things crossed my mind... Toe-shoes -- ballerina-style. Lots of training there. (Almost got there.) And the time I directed a group of prostitutes for a pro-theatre show... To gain their trust I had to walk around in something (not quite) like those. I liked this post for the anticipation. You certainly manage to describe moments. A pleasure to read, as always.

Deity said...

they are sinister and wanton. how a shoe can accomplish all of this, i'm not sure i understand.

thank you for the homage. quite lovely. and yes, i am a lucky bastard, and don't come close to apologizing for it.

hiya darlin. if you'd like, i can point you in the direction of their supplier. drop me a line if you are interested.

They are even more stunning as you watch your partner slowly slide them on. Oh boy....

My girl has long been fascinated by ballet and toe shoes. This sort of forces the issue.

It's interesting that you had to endure pediatric pain in order to gain the trust of prostitutes. How exactly does that make you more trustworthy?

doll said...


I have a very good idea where they might come from. The look is distinctive. I am staying well away to protect my credit ;-)