DONE

                                      RED READY

I clenched my teeth and growled, 'Stupido!' at myself. Griped further, 'your tongue is bleeding!' From my purse I pulled out a small stack of crumpled pink Kleenex. It looked germy. With some hesitation I dabbed at the red spots. My tongue was really bleeding more than I expected it might. Yet, I was absolutely unable to swallow the blood. Being somewhat of a health nut, I spit on the pavement, endangering others and then I realized my cell phone wasn't in my purse. In the ladies room at 'Croix d' Glamour' I pulled out all the rest of the pink Kleenex, my make-up, my wallet, an old red lipstick I hadn't even missed, a few loose coins, sun glasses and keys. My purse was absolutely empty. 

My tongue may have still hurt but it was no longer important. Where can my cell phone be? The only logical place was back in my car. Hep, ho, with my stiletto shoes not yet fully broken in, I hurried back to my car and mysteriously knew already, my cell was not going to be in there. After a thorough search, three times, plus 4 in the empty trunk, I gave up.

My bleeding tongue was forgotten, the corned beef sandwich I meant to get at the deli for my light supper became unimportant. My head was swimming. Who do I call to report my cell missing?I needed a tonic…something to get me out of my funk.  Ahhh – the window of Sal Chasseure was just about glowing as I nearly passed it in haste.  I literally walked backwards to take a long look at some of the most mouthwatering stilettos known to man.  Louboutins…ruby red from toes to heels to soles. I heard them whisper my mother's name. 'Clarissa.' 

I heaved open the heavy Victorian door and entered the Louboutin sanctuary, aware of a lingering stare from a tall, handsome salesman in the middle of the store.  'And what can I do for you today, my beautiful?' said Mr. Gorgeous Italian god almost salivating with sexuality. He held in his hand a new slipper not yet on the deluxe turning display. Its beauty took my breath away. I wanted it, wanted it badly.

'I would like to try on the new Cirrus stiletto. It is my dream shoe, 5 1/2 narrow, please.' His arms were behind his back and as he turned towards me he showed me another surprise. His fly was bulging, about to unzip itself.

He lead me to a soft luxurious red sofa in an alcove I had never seen. As we approached it, a red velvet curtain enveloped us mechanically. My semi-worn, slightly scuffed shoes fell unaided to the floor. His hand slipped under my dress. My lacy red panties  evaporated. His investment paid off and so did mine.

I smiled as he handed me two pairs of  5 1/2 narrow redder than red, stiletto sandals. Two strong hands re-opened the red velvet curtain. One motioned to my handsome lover to get the hell out of there as he, Monsieur Louboutin,  entered.