When I lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I went ice-skating most Wednesday nights. At least, I think it was Wednesday. It was definitely night.
Sky Rink was then actually in the sky, on the top floor of an office building around 45th Street west of 8th Avenue, maybe even 9th. As I recall sessions ran from 8pm to 10pm which put me at the bus stop on 8th Avenue after 10PM. I was usually the only one waiting but I never worried. Not even when a young man in his twenties (I no longer was) approached me one night.
He: Those are really nice shoes.
Me: Thank you.
He: I really like those shoes.
Me: Thank you. (Thinking to myself. He wants to steal my shoes. What does he think? I'm a tourist?)
He: I'd really like to buy my girlfriend shoes like that?
Me: Nods.
He: Can I see the inside of them?
Okay, at this point, any alert adult would have been thinking this guy is a sicko, but I thought I was too slick for him. He really thinks I am from out of town and do not realize he is going to steal my shoes?
So, I slid one foot back, curled my toes under and pressed hard on the inside of the shoe so that he could see the inside of my shoe but could not wrest it away. And, by doing that, I formed a beautiful arch with my foot.
I looked up to see how he reacted to my smart maneuver and saw his face. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I realized foot fetishes were real.
NOTE: It was also how I came to notice that there was a porn shop right behind the bus stop.
© 2022 Jane Kelly
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