Her Problem with Heels

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A bride's wedding day is not what she had been dreaming of.

 

Father Bernardi, looking directly at Mac, said, “Do you, Malcom Anthony Beckman, take Lola Jacqueline Pannier to be your lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Mac, handsomely hunky in his perfectly tailored tux, in a very positive and affirming voice clearly stated for all in the cavernous sanctuary to hear, “I do.”

Father Bernardi turned to the bride and said, “Do you, Lola Jacqueline Pannier, take Malcom Anthony Beckman to be your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

In a voice matching Mac’s tone in positivity and clearness, the bride said for all to hear, “I don’t.”

Spinning around and lifting her gorgeous and very expensive, white gown to a couple of inches above her knees, she began her dash to the double doors at the rear of the church, thankful she had nixed having a train trailing behind.

It took Mac a moment for him to process what he had just heard from his beloved fiancée and then began chasing after her.

Donna, Lola’s best friend since the sixth grade and now her maid of honor was always quicker than most to catch on to happenings and extended a foot slightly from beneath her maroon, floor length gown. Although her foot was clad in a diminutive size six, it was sufficient to send Mac sprawling.

He could have resumed the chase immediately if he hadn’t struck his forehead on the oak armrest of the third pew. Stretched out on the carpet, thoroughly dazed and almost unconscious, it took a while for his head to clear enough to realize his best man, Dave, and Jim, one of the four groomsmen, were trying to lift him to an upright position.

In the meantime, Lola was rapidly approaching the oak doors while all the guests were too shocked at this sudden state of affairs to move fast enough to block her. Barreling through the right door, she lifted her gown even higher, but attempting to race down the twelve stone steps of St. Dominic’s Cathedral proved dangerous so she kicked off her four inch, sparkly high heels and sprinted on.

Turning left, she continued her escape as she flew past numerous pedestrians. Being New Yorkers, they were not surprised at the sight of a beautifully attired bride shoeless and with her gown above her knees going all out running down the sidewalk. Reaching the intersection and spotting the subway sign across the street, she took a chance causing several cab drivers to be upset, as they often are, and other cabbies to enjoy the view of a pair of long legs, as they often do.

Still grasping her gown, she flew down the stairs, scattering the other users and was faced with a new complication. Without a MetroCard or any tokens on her, no entry. Losing maybe a second, she lifted her gown to really revealing heights, probably even flashing some little children, and leaped over the turnstile. The doors of the nearest graffiti-covered car slid closed right behind her. Some of the passengers assumed the poor girl was late to her wedding and sympathized. Some may have been mildly amused, but a young couple offered her a seat so she could spread out her dress.

Lola could see by her reflection in the window that her well-tended-to and fussed over hairdo had now definitely lost some of its coiffure status.

As she watched the station stops go by, she realized the subway was heading north to the Bronx. She could stay on until they arrived at a stop within ten blocks of her apartment. A small sliver of sunshine in the middle of a very dark day. But also added to her list of bad news, it was a long ride and countless passengers would be getting on and off, thus exposing her to more of the public.

Though focusing on her own vague image in her window to avoid making contact with any of the staring passengers, she happened to see an auto repair shop on the street below. A memory came to her of nine or ten months ago, when she was driving at night in a pouring down rain. Her good and faithful car had let her down. It wasn’t sick, it had died.

Thinking she might be able to resuscitate it, she braved the downpour to look under the hood. Maybe she could find a loose wire or something. With her limited mechanical knowledge, it was comparable to a pre-med student performing heart surgery.

Donna was away on a trip, her mom didn’t own a car, and no way could she stand at the curb in the heavy rain and hope to signal a cab. The shops in this block were closed. Reaching in the back for her umbrella caused her to remember she had left it at the office. She decided to take a chance someone might be in the backroom of a store or something. Trying to take too long of a step to avoid a dirty puddle by the curb caused her to put her foot right in it.

Soaked from head to toe and still it poured. It was at this most embarrassing moment she was suddenly bathed in a very strong light. Putting her hand up against the glare did no good. The headlights went off as the interior of a car was lit revealing a man exiting his vehicle.

Coming up to her, he immediately removed his coat and put it over her head and shoulders. He was now getting soaked, but not yet as saturated as she was.

“Come inside the car,” and taking her arm, he guided her over to the passenger side.

Her first thought was, thank you, thank you. Her second thought was, this is a really good looking guy. Her third thought was, I am ruining his very expensive leather seats.

He said, “You seem to be the proverbial damsel in distress.”

She thought, and you are a knight in shining armor. She said, “Oh, thank you so much. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Leave it. Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’ll bet it’s going to be a sunny day. You can have it towed wherever.”

“I am so grateful you stopped. Not everyone would in this rain. And I’m so sorry about your seats.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me get you home or wherever you were headed. You can call me Mac and I should call you . .?”

“Lola.”

“Where to, Lola?”

Her mind bringing her back to being a barefooted bride in a subway car, she sighed and thought, and that’s how it all began.

It was only a moment later she remembered a couple of months ago an evening when she and Donna were in Etienne’s Bridal Salon for one of many gown fittings. Positioned on the pedestal in front of the triple mirrors while two seamstresses inserted the pins under Etienne’s watchful eye, she was in an enraptured state thinking how beautiful she will be on her very festive wedding day.

The receptionist came back announcing a Mac Beckman was at the front desk asking for Lola.

“S’il vous plaît, Mademoiselle,” purred Etienne, “a few moments only and we will be fini until the next time.”

Whew, she thought, that accent is expensive. But due to the finances of her mother and herself, she had agreed to allow the Beckmans to pay for the dresses. While she was absorbed in reflecting on how lucky she was, the current round of pinning was completed and Donna followed her into the dressing room to assist.

Donna gushed, “This has got to be the dreamiest dress ever. And why wouldn’t it be? You’re going to have the ultimate dream of a wedding.”

“But does it have to be so big? And the guest list is enormous. I don’t even know many of the guests. And the reception, at Le Pierre, for gosh sakes. But if I keep sampling menu choices, I may need more alterations.”

After laughing Donna said, “Oh, you poor girl.”

“I know, I know. I really am blessed. But sometimes it does get to be a bit exhausting. Who knew first class could be so all consuming?”

“You mean if Mac said, ‘Let’s elope, just the two of us,’ you’d be happy with that?”

“In less than a minute. It’s the two of us that matter. We love each other so much. Body and soul, as the old song goes.”

When they returned, Mac offered to take them both to dinner, but Donna declined insisting a cute couple like themselves should go on without a third wheel. He gave up trying and dropped her off at her building. He then treated Lola to an intimate dinner at a very dimly lit restaurant where they lingered over several courses paired with an excellent wine.

It wasn’t just the wine that put her in a mellow mood. She liked the way he was always good to her friends. After driving her home, he convinced her to stay a while in the car until she said it was kind of late and she needed to get up early. He  said he understood completely and then proceeded to coax her with some gentle moves increasing in passion until it was getting really late.

She was jolted out of her reverie when it dawned on her that in her current situation she had just gone past an elevated subway stop that was only a couple before hers. That brought back the horrendous memory of what had happened today. All her dreams, all her expectations brutally shattered.

As Lola neared her stop, came the realization she would be walking again in bare feet. The short dashing episode earlier had been painful but mostly ignored due to her concentrating on achieving her escape. She vowed to never remove her shoes again except in the privacy of her apartment. Now, every excruciating step was a reminder to never forget that distressful vow.

When she finally approached the front steps of her duplex, her neighbor, the elderly Mrs. Bartholomew, came out of her unit and said, “Oh, my dear, I’m so happy I got to see you on your special day.” Perplexed, she added, “But you’re coming back?”

“I just forgot something.”

“Well, best of luck to you on this joyous occasion. I’m sorry, but now I must really hurry because I’m late for a doctor’s appointment.”

Fortunately, the full floor length gown covered her feet when she was standing still and so her neighbor did not quiz her further and started down the street.

Next problem. She had on her person something borrowed, which was her grandmother’s ring.  She had something blue, which was a lacy garter that she ruefully remembered dozens of strangers now knew. But what she did not have was a key to the solid wood front door of her apartment.

The only solution she could think of was to go down the block and circle around to the alley to reach her rear door. The good news was it had a small pane of glass. The bad news was it involved having to walk some more.

Treading carefully going down the alley, she lifted the lids off the garbage cans and checked them for something to use on the glass. Eh, the overwhelming smells, the barely identifiable messes, the buzzing flies. This was definitely not the way Lola had envisioned the day when she woke up this morning. At last she spied a broken wrench under some nasty spaghetti. She checked out other cans and had to return to the scummy wrench.

With her built-up frustration, she struck harder than necessary. But it was still necessary to work with the wrench around the perimeter of the small window frame to knock out all the triangular shards of glass. Worried about tiny glass slivers, she reluctantly returned to the foul garbage cans for some protection for her bare arms. The best she could come up with was a filthy, greasy hand towel that she guessed had been used during mechanical work on a car.

Back at her door, Lola wrapped the rag around her arm. Reaching in cautiously, she was able to make contact with the interior lock, but found she had to work in reverse from all the times she had unlocked the door while facing it from the inside. With some stretching and concentration, she was able to turn the deadbolt knob on the lock.

Trying the door unsuccessfully reminded her she always added the chain lock for additional safety. It being much higher and her having to work from outside, she had to stretch to her limit to barely touch it. She thought, oh, for those high heels when you really need them.

Looking up and down the alley, which had become her current shopping mall, she saw a small wooden crate. Testing it proved this was going to be a rather dicey operation. But seeing nothing else, she placed it in front of her door. Stepping up warily, she was able to grasp the little sliding knob sufficiently with her finger tips to slide it along the metal slot to the wider section, thus allowing her to finally open the door.

Fortunately for her, when she stepped down from the crate, she stepped backwards rather than hopping forward into her kitchen. While looking down to pick up the crate, she couldn’t help but see all the shiny bits of broken glass from her attack now on her formerly clean ceramic tile floor. She considered placing the box on top of the glass, but dismissed that idea because she didn’t trust the box and also because the glass had spread far enough she would never be able to jump over the hazardous area.

Her next plan was to stand on the box while it was still on the outside of the house. She then could lift herself up onto the bare countertop that ran all the way to the right from the door frame to the corner of the kitchen. While on the box, she discovered she couldn’t just reach around the wall and end up on the counter.

With her adrenaline working overtime, Lola decided she had to get one leg up on the counter and while grasping the door frame she could swing herself around and land up on the counter. She then realized to accomplish this maneuver, she had two choices. She could hike up the wedding gown to the height of scandalous or she could remove the dress altogether. Remembering so much assistance she needed to get into the gown, she decided to risk being merely scandalous. Besides, an alleyway with no traffic certainly was not the same as what had happened at the busy subway turnstile.

Her wedding dress now seemed more like a mere costume than the symbolic embodiment of future wedded bliss. Lola stepped onto the really shaky crate and gathered up the voluminous, white material with all its cascading ruffles in both of her arms. Facing the door jamb on her right, she found she could lift her left leg as high as the top of the counter which accomplished nothing. Also, she was not able to grip the door frame while struggling to continue holding up the bulky dress.

Back to the garbage cans. It took a while before she found something really useful, a brown extension cord with no plug. Taking it back to her stoop, she laid the cord out straight and sat down with it behind her.

While sitting, she was able to bend her knees and pull all the dress up to the top of her thighs. She then laid back and humped up her bottom enough to tug the dress higher. With most of it at her waist and upward, she laid back onto the cord. Bringing both ends around, she twisted them tightly together in order to hold the dirty gown above her legs.

Lola was glad that she had at least chosen the lacy although very skimpy and partially see-through panties rather than the minuscule string thong Donna had suggested. She went back to the crate only to discover that under her repeated efforts, it had split enough that splinters were a likely possibility and would be a definite problem for someone who was in their filthy, bare feet.

She had always been proud of herself for never sinking low enough to be using profanity, but that ship was definitely taking on water.

Stepping back to analyze the situation, she was suddenly reminded of the good old days when she was only nine years old. The good old days because life was so much simpler. But also a memory had come to her about being the best in Phys Ed class about shimmying up the rope in the auditorium. And it was after school one day that she showed the boys she could also go up some of the school flagpole.

She looked up and down assessing the situation. She locked her nees around the inside and outside of the wood framing. Then with both hands she tried pulling herself up above counter height. Her legs, freed from the confines of the dress, did their part. But she was having considerable difficulty with the use of her arms being entangled with the miles of wedding gown and petticoats that were being squashed into the narrow confines between her upper body and the framework.

As she stepped back once again, Lola let fly with a four letter word. “Nuts!” Pausing and not feeling a whole lot better, she made her decision. She looked to the left to the end of the alley. She looked to the right. The whole time she had been here, not a single vehicle had passed by. She waited some more.

“That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m doing it.” She removed the extension cord and let the immense amount of garment unfold. She was able get all the buttons that ran down her left side, but it required considerable twisting and almost turning herself inside out to undo the lace down a portion of her back.

She was wearing it and in a way she wasn’t. She took in a big breath and when she deeply and slowly exhaled, she was extremely close to no longer wearing the fitted, upper bodice. A quick glance to the right and to the left.

By now she was in the mood for another four letter word. Oh hell, why not? She clutched the top and pushed downward until the neckline of the strapless gown was now at the waistline of a topless garment. Without hesitation she shoved with both hands the ungodly amount of material until it was a mountainous heap circling her feet.

Stepping daintily out of her nemesis,she took down the sexy, blue garter and gave it a toss. Aware she was now clad only in a very abbreviated pair of lacy panties and a matching half cup, strapless bra, she moved onto her stoop.

Grasping the lower portion of the wall between her knees, she placed one hand above the other and paused to prepare for her ascent. She inhaled deeply through her nose, expanding her chest, and exhaled through her open mouth. She repeated the steps.

She would ponder more leisurely later how important timing is in the lives of mortals. But for now it was the honking of a horn from a red convertible that had stopped in the alley that furnished her with the impetus to scramble much like a chimpanzee. She moved possibly faster than any primate ever has until she was around the wall, on the counter, slamming the door, and snapping the lock.

Still sitting on the counter to let her hard-won success sink in and the odds now being astronomically against her ever stepping outside again on unshod feet, she lifted one foot up to examine the sole. Eew, the streets and walkways of New York City. Her very black sole. Her beautifully manicured nails had definitely suffered, but it was the nearly unrecognizable bottoms of her feet that shocked her. She wasn’t sure she had anything that could successfully tackle that much grime. Somewhere under those layers of filth lay Lola’s skin. She wondered if she ever saw them again, did she have the soothing balm to restore her feet to their former picture of health.

She decided she wanted to regroup her sensibilities before working on the dirty footprints and broken glass. Lola walked gingerly around the edge of the room to the kitchen closet for a pair of old flip flops. She went directly to the sanctum of her very own private bath where she would be safe from the outside world. After removing her two pieces of lingerie, the final remnants of today’s mortifying fiasco, she sat on the edge of the tub and began unmercifully scrubbing away at her feet.

With the top layers of the city’s crud gone, Lola began filling the tub with warm water softened by several perfumed oils. She mixed the lemony one with the rosemary one, then added a bit of the one featuring jasmine. She figured she needed all the help she could get. Spying her lavender bubble bath beads, she also dumped them in. Soon she was ready to scooch down up to her neck in her warm and exceptionally fragrant, foamy water. Resting her head back and closing her eyes, she began blocking out much of the day’s disaster.

It may have been a half hour later, but probably more, she really didn’t know, that she returned to Earth and began thinking about her next move. First, rinse off soap. Next, dry. Then find her favorite, very old pajamas, the pink ones with the little brown bears. The pajamas most familiar with her body, the pair with a couple of tiny holes in them. And as far from that irksome dress as possible. She would deal with that adversary later. Next came her soft, plush slippers.

After donning her most comfy apparel, she started a pot of herbal tea and went to the phone in the living room. Her cell phone may be still at the church, she could check with Donna. Her land line was blinking with a screen that read Full. Scrolling quickly through the numbers, she saw several from Donna, a couple from her mother, and an assortment from a variety of others who were at the church. But mixed in with all of them were a bunch from that miserable so-and- so.

She was tempted to crawl into bed and just pull her fluffy comforter up to her hairline Or better, maybe she could assume the classic, curled-up, fetal position, only pulling her knees up even further.

Ah, the tea should be ready. That took her into the kitchen to once again face the dirty footprints and broken glass. Okay, she thought, first things first. She promptly poured a cup of chamomile tea and added some drops of honey. Perched on a stool in her yummy, soft pajamas and sipping the restorative tea, somehow she resolved she was not going to live the rest of her life in a meditative cloud.

After drinking her tea to the last drop, she began working on the glass with the dustpan and broom, finishing off with damp paper towels to attract the tiniest, sparkling particles. After that, a rag and some elbow effort finally removed the single trail she had made across the room. She remembered she had to remove her clothes from the alley, then managed to jam them into one of the empty garbage cans.

Now that the mess in the kitchen was taken care of, she had to deal with a much bigger mess. She sat on her sofa, collected her thoughts, and then she dialed.

Seeing her number appear, Mac said, “Lola, what are you—”

“Shut up and listen. I am—”

“What do you—”

“I told you to shut—”

“Just what do you—”

She hung up the phone and waited. A moment later it rang. She said, “I told you to listen.”

“You have one minute.”

“I have until I’m through. This morning at the church I had to pee.”

“What—”

She hung up the phone and waited. When it rang, she said, “That wasn’t even a minute. As I was saying, I had a definite urge to pee just moments before the ceremony was to begin. Maybe just nerves, or whatever. But there definitely was no way I was going to be able to hold it throughout the ceremony.

“At the church they have a room where the bride and the girls can attend to last minute details. Part of the room includes a restroom. When I entered, I heard someone in a stall on her phone. It was Teresa and she was saying and I quote, ‘I know, I know. I feel the same. I don’t think I can wait a week either. Do you have to go so far away?’

“The other person must have been talking a bit and then she continued, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to go to McDonald’s every day to enjoy my Big Mac.’ ”

“Lola, I—”

“I was so stunned, I left. After she came out, I went back in and by the time I was finished fussing with all of that ridiculous dress, I was still totally rattled. But it was time to get in line at the back of the church.”

He interrupted, “But in front of my family and friends, don’t you know how humiliated I—”

“How dare you speak to me about humiliation! I’ve had layers and layers of it today. Now listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once. I am never going to see you again. If you try to contact me in any way, I shall report you to the police as a stalker.”

“You—”

“And I am going to have Donna, Janet, Benjamin, and Alex go to your parents’ house and pick up all the gifts sent by my friends and family so I can return them with an accurate explanation. I strongly recommend you not be there. Benjamin and Alex are big boys and Donna is small but mighty.”

“I really—”

“You are such a  heel,” and with that, she hung up.


Submitted: October 06, 2022

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