Romans & histoires Wicked Heels

The pièce de résistance, however, were the heels. She was normally a flip-flop kind of girl and wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of heels. But she was feeling brave and a little sassy and so, on her way home from lunch, she’d stopped and bought a pair of spiked, blingy heels that she had to admit looked damn good on her. She just hoped like hell she didn’t make an ass of herself by face-planting when she tried to walk in them.

She kicked off her strappy black platform heels with a dramatic sigh, letting them clatter loudly against the base of a glass coffee table. "Oh my god, thank the lord," she whined, rubbing the arches of her feet with her painted fingernails. "Those fucking heels were literally killing my feet. I feel like my toes are about to fall off. I am never wearing those death traps again." She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling with a sudden, dramatic pout on her face. "Tonight was supposed to be completely different, Marina. Seriously. Tonight was supposed to be all about you.”

The heels were tick-tocking over the solid floor of this high ranked section of the village, in which powerful witches like Evanora and her friends used to reside, since they were the most respected ones. Her heels made a loud sound, despite of the fact that her movements were way too gentle, subtle and she carried the aura of an elegant lady.

“I’m fine without your company. There are many other men here who would love to have a girl such as yourself flaunted in front of them.” As if I told her to go whore herself around somewhere else, she straightens her back with a huff and stomps away. The high heels she’s wearing slip from under one foot, causing her to buckle slightly as she spins out of view. I try to keep a smile of satisfaction from finding my face at the awful attempt of trying to make me feel bad for letting someone like her get away, but it’s useless. A sly smirk forms across my mouth from her pitiful attempt.

It was three stories high and looked as if it was on its dying breath of collasping. "I told you we needed a witches' touch." Pierce told me. "Just trust me. Did you carry the stuff I told you to carry?" He asked me after. "Yeah, I did." I took the duffle bag from the backseat of the car and open it. It contained Scarlett's hair brush and her favorite bottle of jasmin and vanilla perfume. "Are you sure this is going to work? I mean I have never heard of a witch called Nïx in my entire immortal life Pierce." I snorted

—D Heat stained her cheeks again and she pressed the back of a hand to her skin to cool it. Gosh, he was always making her blush, wasn’t he? She pulled the lid off the box . . . and gasped at the shoes inside. Silver platform peep-toe pumps with a nearly eight -inch heel. They were studded with tiny crystals all over the shoe leather, and glittered like Cinderella’s glass slipper. She picked one up wonderingly. It was enormously tall. She’d be a giant. They were garish and impractical and sky-high.

Damn those heels. @Death Wish

she says with a wink at me. “Alright ladies, we all know you are getting lucky tonight,” Jenna teases. “Now let’s get your shoes,” she reminds us. We pay for our purchases and head out to the shoe shop just beside the dress shop. We easily pick out heels to complement our dresses. Mine have a strap around the ankles with three-inch black heels. Sarah goes with a nude heel that is two and half inches high.

“You and your sense of humour.” “I know. Anyway, it would’ve depended on how the size was wrong. If it was too big, I would’ve gotten a tailor but if it was too small, I would’ve simply gotten you another one. Can you handle two and a half inches?” He showed her a pair of glittery silver block heels that had teardrop crystals, which were arranged the same way as the leaves on a laurel wreath, across the ankle and toe straps. “I can handle them.” “Alright. You’ll put them on downstairs. I can’t have you tripping on the stairs.” He took her downstairs.