For Want of a Heel

"Shit, shit, SHIT." Sally glared at her right foot. The heel of her shoe was broken off, still caught in the chink of the cobblestone walkway she was standing on. She carefully set the bag holding her laptop down and reached down to pull the heel free.

"Two hundred dollars," Sally sighed as she juggled the broken heel for a moment. Then she reached down and removed first the broken shoe and then its counterpart. She unzipped the side pocket of the tote bag, blessing the sales girl that had talked her into it when she had bought the computer.

"It wasn't just because she was so cute," Sally mused. She certainly had been THAT, though. Blonde and cute and nice legs and a happy smile to go with her enthusiasm. Sally virtuously reminded herself that she had agreed to the accessory bag even after she realized that the bubbly young woman was more than casually involved with the dark haired female assistant manager, or whatever the other woman was. They may have fooled everyone else in the store, but Sally's sharp eyes had seen the way they looked at each other.

"Wonder if they would be interested in a three-way sometime?"

Shaking herself out of her pleasant, but irrelevant, thoughts, Sally surveyed her surroundings. There were enough people strolling and shopping that she decided she couldn't just pull off her pantyhose. She shrugged. She would just have to accept that they would be horribly ruined by the time she made her way back to her car.

The older (Forty-something, if you please!) brunette woman contemplated the mile-plus walk to her car. Not that she couldn't do it with ease, she still ran three or four days a week. She really didn't care to do it barefoot unless she was on a beach. And the cobblestone walkways of the restored area of the city didn't qualify as hard-packed sand.

She had been calling on customers here, updating their records. She was a financial planner and a darn good one. She had started out working for a major brokerage house years ago and made good money, as long as she worked the standard sixteen hour days seven days a week. She had enjoyed it until she realized that time was slipping away and she was single and alone. Then she had made a courtesy call on a local insurance broker, and met MaryAnn. For the first time in her life she had fallen in love, not just lust.