Someone Else's Shoes Novels & Stories

I can't even spend such an amount. Not just a bag but a box which contained a set of shoes. This was a pepper-red heeled sandal with a long rope to tie it to my knee. "Oh my God!" The shoe is for someone who has time for parties and dinner. I haven't gotten this type of sandal, now I think my footwear closet has been completed. "Sis, who could be spoiling you like this?" "Susan, I can't even tell because I am also speechless like you."

--- Across the Street — Miss Little Stalker Jessy was still in her car, still watching the villa like a hawk. But then her phone buzzed again. And again. Finally, with an irritated sigh, she snatched it up. “What?” she snapped. “Babe! You won’t believe the shoes I found today—” Jessy’s attention snapped instantly. “What shoes? Send me a picture!” Her friend launched into a long, dramatic story about a shopping trip, a rude salesgirl, and a limited‑edition bag that “absolutely nobody else could get.”

Freddie Prescott was a common enough name that I wasn't confident I'd be able to find him on any social media. I went to find my heels, but one of them was missing. I looked everywhere, but one shoe was gone. It wasn't a horrible loss. It wasn't like I was going to ever wear the darn things again. Still, I tucked the lone shoe into my purse as a memory of a beautiful night.

“Brenda, these are one-thousand-dollar shoes. If you can’t manage a glass of wine, then we’re reevaluating our friendship, darling.” I rolled my eyes and sighed, but my insides were buzzing with excitement. I love shoes. I love shoes like Dayton loves lingerie. They’re my guilty pleasure—the one addiction I allowed myself to indulge in. And Shaw, being a sales assistant at Arabella’s, the hottest shoe store in Seattle, added to my indulgence whenever he could. After all, he worked in a female shoe store. Not even he could get away with those shoes. So last season’s styles and samples at a huge discount came right my way.

I went into the room so as not to look suspicious. From under the bathroom stall, I can see four shoes coming in. The pair of high heels are Ella Cordeline's, and a pair of Taylor loafers. I remember Ella's high heels because she used to wear it to parties with me. Meanwhile, Taylor's shoes were my gift for his birthday last year. A kiss sounded from where I stood. "Honey, slow down..." a woman's voice whispered. I know this colour very well. Ella Cordeline. My guess was correct; the shoes belonged to Ella. Was she really with Taylor?

I thought of keeping the bra on for a moment but thought better of it and removed the bra as well. Naked, except for the panties, I spotted the shoes he had referred to. They were work boots really and quite worn. They belonged to someone else, I surmised, at least at one time. I don't think they were Gebhard's. I slipped them on. They were a size or two too big and without socks, not very comfortable. None-the-less, it was better than getting my own shoes ruined by working outside.

"Proud yeah, heard that about him but I still feel you should give him sometime, with time you'd get to Know him for who he is." "Well I don't think that can happen." "Just try any woman who would be in your shoes." "Well I hate these shoes." I said the words at the same time a woman was bringing a shoe to display to us and she thought we were referring to her and made us walk away. "No, not you." I said, chuckling and calling her back. We went on talking for hours while we shopped, I paid for some of the stuff Amy got as well and when I was driving home finally it was with a car filled with clothes.

The shoe was a work of art, with intricate straps and a delicate buckle that seemed to shimmer in the light. Purple and Purity rushed over, their eyes widening in unison as they took in the sight of the gorgeous shoe. "Wow, Maya, that's gorgeous!" Purple breathed, her fingers reaching out to touch the delicate straps. Purity's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Try it on, try it on!" she urged, her voice filled with anticipation. Maya grinned, slipping her foot into the shoe with a delicate ease. The fit was perfect, and the shoe seemed to mold to her foot like a second skin. She stood up, her legs elongated and her feet looking utterly fabulous.

"Didn't kill him." Her voice was completely indifferent like she had just smacked around some lowlife on the street. Then, with no change in expression, she glanced down at her sneaker and sighed. She added, "But my shoes got wrecked. You're paying me back for them." Andrew chuckled. "No problem at all. You and Fran can go shopping later—she'll buy you a new pair." Shiloh actually looked amused. "Alright. But remember—you owe me a new pair. And I want Universoles ones."

The door creaked loudly, and I froze. Outside, the men were sitting around, drinking. Little wonder they hadn’t noticed us earlier. “Careful. Don’t make a sound,” I whispered to Camellia. “Yes. Let’s take off our shoes,” she advised. Still trembling, I carefully removed my shoes and held them in my hands. But my shaking fingers lost their grip. The shoes slipped from my hands. Thud. The sound echoed loudly. My heart stopped as I slowly turned my head toward the men. And hell…