Knocking Boots Novels & Stories

CLANK! His feet encased in black shoes made a loud clicking sound against the tile surface as he stomped one step below and came to the living room of the Clan House. There didn't come any other reverberating CLANK as the clicking of his shoes soon got suppressed by the long carpet that spread from the start of the living room all the way to the stairs.

Every second wasted put Layson and his son at greater risk. With a single nod, we moved in unison. We raised our boots and slammed them against the door. The first kick sent vibrations through the metal, but it held firm. The second strike made it creak on its hinges. On the third, the lock gave way with a sharp crack. The door swung open violently, the sound cutting through the chaos .

I reached out and pulled the boots inside, closing the door behind me. The boots were made of thick leather, that was dark and smooth and lined with soft fur. This was the kind of boots that would keep my feet warm even in the deepest snow. They were new, or almost new, and they looked expensive, and they had been left there sometime in the night, by someone who had not wanted to be seen. There was no note, no message, and no sign of who had left them. But I knew.

My mom would ground me and give me a week-long lecture if she heard me. “Who goes out hiking in the wilds and mountain climbing for days on end after choosing this as appropriate footwear?” He scoffs at my knee-high laced-up boots that happen to be my favorites and gets himself a snort, crossed arms, and a glare as I turn my head away and huff at him openly. I guess he’s decided that picking on my boots is safer than daring to tell me off for my colorful vocabulary. “I'm sorry that I didn’t have the prior knowledge, leaving home in a worried rush, about what sort of footwear was acceptable for Lord Hex.”

I freaking love the boots. A pair of knee-high, black leather boots adorned with silver buckles and intricate stitching. They exuded an air of rebellion and confidence, an embodiment of my journey from darkness to light. With every step, they would serve as a reminder that I had overcome the challenges that life had thrown my way. I fastened the last buckle and stood up, feeling a surge of energy coursing through my body. The sound of murmurs and hushed conversations filtered into the dressing area as the event staff prepared for the show. My heart raced in anticipation, a mix of excitement and nerves dancing within me.

Bowen screamed. Everyone could hear the panic and hysteria in his voice. He stumbled off the stage, tripping and lurching toward the backstage area. In his panic, he didn't notice the steps. So, he twisted his ankle and fell straight down, rolling all the way down the stairs. The staff who were backstage finally snapped out of their daze. They fumbled in panic to shut off the screen. The giant screen went black in an instant. I became even more of a joke standing in front of the dark screen alone.

I соugh аt the раіn сhоkіng mу hеаd, аnd trу tо stop thе rеtсhіng іn my mouth аnd mу jеrkіng аrоund on the flооr. Thе bottom оf thе реrѕоn’ѕ boots іѕ close nоw. It’s jеt blасk ѕtіlеttоѕ thаt соuld оnlу bеlоng to оnе person.

I grabbed them up, held them behind me as I walked back out into the main living space. "So why am I waiting to crush his balls?" Kiema asked, her hands fisted on her hips. I pulled my surprise from behind my back. "Ta da!" "You brought me gross boots?" She raised one eyebrow at me before turning to consult with Saint. The other man was smiling. "You'll like those boots, honey. They have steel plates covering the toes. Absolutely no harm to you, exponentially more harm to him." Kiema leapt forward. "Gimme, gimme, gimme."

If that didn’t work and we still believed that someone was sketchy then I would work my whiles and seduce them. Tonight I sported my pleather shiny black leggings, they were greatly stuffed into the cuffs of my knee length tight black stilettos. My stilettos held a dual purpose, one they were super cute that often would enhance my sex appeal as men could not help but think about fucking me with those damn boots on. The other purpose was that the heel was also sharpened to a point and could if need be used to help stab a person that was attacking me. If I knew that this party was actually in the boonies I would have worn my steal toed black combat boots.

Then, turning my newly-acquired seat around, I set myself in a comfortable position for the main event: Juliana's spiked heels. Turning them over and over, I examine them carefully: what exactly do I have? I'm in luck. The boots were toe-teeteringly high... The heels are at least four inches long, certainly long enough to make a usable tool. She can't have walked far... And it must be decent paths or roads... So the car must be parked close by... The tips are steel; only perhaps a quarter of an inch diameter, of the kind that make a disaster zone of vinyl lay or parquet flooring.