Mlp Trouble Shoes Novels & Stories

"Please tell me that's not my blood." Malakai grabs my chin and tilts my head side to side. His eyes are sharp despite the gash on his forehead. The blood has dried in a dark line down his temple and his gray eyes look almost silver in the dim forest light. "It's mine," he says. "You're fine." I slap his hand away. "I lost a shoe." He stares at me. "One of my designer heels," I say louder. "The limited edition ones. Do you know how hard those were to get?"

Boys aren't supposed to look like that, or sound like that, or have size seven feet! "You like my feet, don't you, Bobby?" Shelly had pulled me down to my knees, tugging on my necktie until she had me right where she wanted me. Her legs were bare, but she had such smooth skin, tanned and toned, she didn't need stockings. Shelly wore patent leather shoes, expensive ones, probably, with open toes and spiked heels. Her toenails were red like her lips and fingers, and she had small, female feet. I'd spent three years selling shoes at Pay-Less as a teenage boy, so I had a lot of experience with women's feet and Shelly's were incredible.