Knocking Boots Novels & Stories

Anyone Finn spoke of with that kind of awe in his voice was welcome on my team. Spots of dull silver dotted her thighs. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a high knot. The sleeves of her suit thingy came up and laced through her fingers like gloves. Her boots came up to her knees and looked made of the tough denier fabric of military footwear. Since I hadn't heard her approach, I guessed they were also made with a specialized rubber sole.

Robin asks Cammie as he tugs her arm gently and pulls her toward the woman’s wear section. Cammie gives Mindy an awkward hand wave and follows Robin to the woman’s wear, she checks over the items he has in the basket already and she’s pretty impressed with the items he’s chosen, considering what he had to choose from in this store, which is pretty dull and dismal. She goes about choosing some hiking gear which include some khaki coloured thermal trousers and a red fleece. Robin directs her to the hiking boots. She picks some boots that look pretty, but Robin disapproves and picks a different more robust looking pair. “These are better, they have high tops which will protect your ankles on th

He opened his wardrobe and at the bottom I could see a dozen pair of silver plated boots. He picked out a pair and handed them to me, holding them by a small part of it at the back that was still canvas. I carefully collected them and I realized that the boots had no laces or straps. They were made to hug the feet as had a slight elasticity as you slid your leg into them. They were light, lighter than they looked and sounded and I went to my room and retrieved my custom one armed jacket. I got back to the parlour and I saw Tia already in her silver sneakers.

Most people knock on doors with a pattern of either two short knocks and one long or two long and one short. But this person outside was different. Knock knock, knock knock, knock knock, knock, knock knock, knock— Knock knock, knock knock, knock, knock, knock knock, knock knock, knock, knock— Knock, knock—knock! Knock, knock—knock! The knocking rhythm even reminded me of a familiar childhood tune. But that didn't help with my morning grumpiness.

Beggar “You not seriously wearing four knives under that,” I ask After as she puts on her sleeveless cut. She is wearing black skin-tight denim pants that has cuts on the knees and just below her ass. Her normal shirt has been tossed aside for a black skull top with missing sleeves. But what makes her outfit sexy is the black knee length boots that go on forever. “Five, got one in my boot. Just in case.” “She probably has eight, or nine. The others she won’t tell you about in case somebody who plans to kill her is listening to the conversation,” Mercy says as she finishes up Whisp's make-up.

I love anything with an inch, figuratively and literally. "Took you long." Quinn says once am in the living room. He's already dressed. He's in a black T.shirt, black jeans and leather boots. Black has never looked good. Am about to compliment him but remember he hates it. "And that was fast..." I gesture at his appearance. "Used the guest bathroom." He answers standing up. "Ready? The night awaits." He adds. "Where are we going?" I ask deciding to go with my little purse i always carry in my handbag.

“Fifteen seconds! Just go!” He groans but then does as I say, vanishing. Anton shifts as he dashes to my side. “Miniskirt, black top –“ “Tights or knee socks!?” “Tights, black boots,” he snaps, nodding once. He gestures towards his neck. “And that little choker, with the heart?”

It was time. The heels of my over the knee boots clicked on the dark hardwood as I marched my ass to the front doors. Travis, a brooding thick-eyebrowed hulk of a man gave me the go ahead nod that he was ready to face the crowd that was undoubtedly about to come pouring in. I flashed him a confident smile, turned the lock, and pulled open the black double doors.

He’s going to strike. Run, run, run, run, run! I whirl on my heel, trip, and pitch forward, my kneecaps grinding as they hit the ground. Behind me, I hear a splash. I scrabble back to my feet and bolt for the woods, arms pumping, my skirt trapping my legs, hampering my stride. I hike it above my knees. Damn these boots. I curl my toes to keep from slip-sliding inside them. What was I thinking to wear these boots, this skirt?

I shifted and pressed my hand to the boot latch and pushed. It did not move and I pushed harder. Nothing. "Hello?" I tried, because dignity was already gone. "Hello. I know someone can hear me. Open the—" The air in the boot was already warmer than it had been. I pushed at the latch again, then at the side panels, then at every surface in the darkness that might plausibly give way. None of them gave way. I began knocking then banging, because the air was getting thin and the space was getting smaller and—