The Dancing Stilettos by Shelley-Ann Gordon
“You know what they’re for?” the salesman asked as he noticed me examining a wicked pair of gold peep toe stilettos. I smiled, shook my head no, and continued inspecting the prototypical footwear. “A woman doesn’t buy those shoes to look pretty at the bar. Nope. They’re for dancing, in the middle of the dance floor at that. Would you like to try on a pair?”
“Sure,” I said gauging how they would feel on my feet. Something so beautiful could never be comfortable. How many shoes have I retired to the back of the closet because they appeared perfect, but every moment in them felt as though I was learning to walk again?
Macy’s knew what they were doing by strategically placing the shoe department near the entrance of the store and the undergarment section in some hard-to-find destination. They knew a woman like me would fall victim to the aesthetics of these shiny, glittery three-inch heels. My feet ached with excitement as the salesman finally handed me the shoes.
“Dancing,” I said looking in the mirror at how nicely the heels accentuated my calves. “Haven’t done that in a while. I don’t know if they’ll make it to the dance floor, but I’ll take ‘em,” I said euphoric at the comfort of the shoes on my feet and the prospect of using them for something more pleasing than a night on the town.
When I arrived home, my guy was asleep on the couch with several unchecked philosophy essays resting on his bare chest. I smiled at the peaceful look on his face and adored the way his cheeks sat high and round even in his sleep. I placed the bags in the closet and prepared for bed knowing he’d be there by the time I finished showering. In light conversation before bed, he asked me what I purchased. “Oh. Nothing special, sweetheart,” I said, deciding to keep the shoes a secret—rather show than tell. Besides, one look at me in these beauties and there’d be no way he could protest my golden indulgence.
That night, I dreamed of dancing, glittering, three-inch stilettos. There they were, on the Solid Gold Stage, feetless, bodiless, in full Broadway motion to the sound of Irene Cara’s “What a Feeling.” The glittery stars of the show performed with the precision of a sharp paring knife—slicing the air with the swiftness of a well learned dancer. I awoke from my sleep, excited, confused, wanting to put on my new shoes. Is that what they do in department stores when the lights dim and with no human bodies to occupy their crevices—the shoes declaring their nightly autonomy? At the thought, I slipped out of bed to make sure they hadn’t declared their independence from me. Yet, there they were neatly packaged in the triangular box—tissue paper stuffed into the peephole to keep its shape.
In the closet, I tried them on slowly, placing one foot in at a time. A tingle of mischief coated my feet. Freeing myself of my nightgown, I stepped out of the closet and faced the mirror that adorned the closet door. “Oh no,” I whispered to myself. “These certainly aren’t made for dancing.” I quietly rummaged through the bag in search of the receipt, but those damn plastic bags own a crinkle that could disturb the dead. My guy stirred, pulling the sheets closer to him. Clutching the receipt in my hand, I slipped under the sheets and clicked my heels together like Dorothy. “Everything ok,” he said, rolling over to face me, the smell of his sweet breath lingering in the air.
“Oh, I just thought you should know how much I paid for a pair of shoes,” I said still clicking them together.
“Are you wearing them now?” he said sleep heavy in his voice.
“Uh huh.” I removed the covers to reveal my naked body save the golden stars. I placed the receipt in between my legs and guided his head so he could get a magnified view of the price. “Tonight,” I said to my guy, pausing just a moment to recall how long it’d been since we’d taken the time to enjoy each other. “I want you to take me dancing.”
Shelley-Ann Gordon is originally from Jamaica, but spent most of her life in Miami, FL. She is working towards her MFA in Creative Writing at Chatham University in Pittsburgh, PA. Her work has appeared in the online literary journal deComp.
