Silk and Heels

Forgive me for being so quiet for so long, my loves. I knew I was neglecting you, but I've been uninspired, and honestly, not particularly erotic for quite a while now. It's a long story that has a lot to do with some severe personal disappointments and the sorrows of a terminally sick friend I've been trying to look after. You really don't need to hear more about it.

But the darkest night eventually ends. Mine has. No, I haven't just met my lifelong love. Actually, things are about as unpromising on that score as they've ever been. But these past few weeks I've been learning to enjoy my own body once again, with a little help from "Artemisia" whose story appears below.

Arta and I have become friends. She's quite tall -- about 5' 11" -- but she absolutely refuses to wear any shoe that doesn't have at least a four-inch heel. I'm short, by American standards -- 5' 1" -- but I've never really taken to heels. When I said so to Arta, she was very surprised.

"There's nothing sexier," she said. "Maybe you haven't done the right sort of shopping."

And with that we were off. Arta had wanted to cruise the LA shopping district anyway, and I was happy to be her tour guide. It made for a lot of fun. The big surprise was how completely she focused on finding things for me and how little interested she was in shopping for herself.

Arta knows shoes. She taught me a thousand things about them: how they're made, how the sizing system works, where shoe leathers come from and how the're prepared for use, what materials are best for what parts of each shoe, what sort of shoe is best for what purposes, which manufacturers can be relied on, and so forth. I was fascinated from beginning to and. And of course, I bought shoes. Seven pairs, in fact.

Yes, they're all high heeled. Four to five inches. And I have no trouble walking in them. Arta taught me a lot about that skill, too.

But one thing she taught me was something I would never have expected: your ability to enjoy your heels depends quite a lot on your lingerie.

Heels change your walk. They compel you to take shorter steps, and to keep your legs close together. If you're wearing typical cheap underthings, that can cause a lot of chafing and discomfort in your lower body.

Arta insisted that I buy a lot of silk lingerie. Silk stockings of course, a pure silk garter belt, silk camisoles, and several styles of silk panties. I resisted. I didn't want to do all that hand-washing, but Arta educated me about that, too. It's not nearly as difficult or dreary as it once was, if you buy the right garments and the right products for laundering them.

She was right about all of it. A heel-appropriate walk is much more pleasant when your lower body is clothed in silk. What would have been an annoying raspy friction becomes a sensuous delight.

I'm a convert. I've been adjusting the other parts of my wardrobe to match my new shoes, and my clients have all remarked favorably on the changes. And I have to admit, dressing every morning has become a much more enjoyable process.

Even at home, I've been wearing my heels. I'm wearing them now, with nothing else but my silk lingerie. Whenever I shift my position, the way the silk slides over my legs and loins gives me a gentle tickle of a very agreeable sort.

Arta was right. This is the way to spend an evening alone. With soft music, a glass or two of wine, and an adequately spicy novel, it can all be very pleasant.

Would you excuse me, please? I have some...things to attend to.