(Schuhfetisch-Story) Corporate Ladder | shoe, foot, stockined toes story

I was called out to look at a building that an investment group was going to acquire, and
since the seller had made many recent repairs to the building, the Architect for the repairs was sent to meet me at
the building. As is often the case, the younger people at an architectural firm get assigned a lot of the field
inspection, so I was not surprised that the Architect that came to meet me was a woman in her mid-twenties.

Her
name was Karen, and she was medium height, thin, with shoulder length curly blond hair and pale blue eyes. She was
dressed casually, wearing jeans and a white long sleeve dress shirt, and a navy blue ski jacket. She had on some brown
casual shoes like the ones that people wear on boats, and thin, white-cuffed ankle socks like the cheerleaders at my
high school used to wear.

Nice looking woman, I thought, although not really the sexiest outfit. Besides, I usually
try to keep my mind on a professional level most of the time. Still, she was very attractive, and I found my eyes
wandering down to her legs as we entered the building. When she walked ahead of me through the revolving door, I
couldn’t help but notice that her heels almost slipped out of her shoes with each step as she pushed through the door.

Standing in the lobby, I took some notes on a clipboard as she told me about the recent elevator renovations, but
soon, my eyes wandered over to her shoes again. They were particularly unattractive shoes, worn looking, and not the
least bit feminine. The brown leather uppers had only 2 or 3 pairs of eyelets for the laces to go through, and the
laces were some kind of rawhide material and were not tied together. Instead, the tip of each lace ended in a large
knot that was too big to slip back through the top eyelet, keeping the shoes from coming unlaced, but making the laces
way too short to tie together. The net result was a pair of shoes that were like loafers, but very loose.

As we
continued to look at some of the other recent improvements to the building, I continued to glance at her loose shoes
whenever possible, but there was not any way for me to walk behind her, since there were only the two of us. I was
dying to see her slip out of a shoe, but in spite of a lot of heel slapping as we walked, she never even came close to
losing one. At one point, we met the building manager and stood outside her office talking in a hallway for fifteen
minutes or so. Karen leaned in a doorframe as we talked, and although she shuffled her shoes around on the carpet,
occasionally showing a tiny bit of her stockinged heel, it was obvious that she just wasn’t a dipper.

As we got off
of the elevator on the twentieth floor, she was giving some of the details of the recent roofing program. We stood at
a window wall at the end of the elevator lobby looking at the surface of the rubber roof. “Do you want to look at the
roof?” she asked, producing a ring of keys.

I really didn’t, but I was about wrapped up and decided that I wouldn’t
mind extending my stay for another half hour or so. “How do we get out there?” I asked.

Karen plugged a key into the
window in front of us, turned the lock, and swung the metal frame open like a door. The opening was not large, and was
about waist high. Karen lifted her leg and took a giant step through the window opening. I immediately wished I had
gone out first when I saw her heel pop out of her shoe just as her foot disappeared from view below the sill. She
ducked her head under the top of the opening and straddled the windowsill, reaching her leg down toward the roof on
the other side as she held the sides of the window frame for balance. She eased herself out through the opening until
one leg was still inside. I eyed her shoe closely as her stockinged heel emerged from it and the tip of her shoe left
the carpet. I was probably holding my breath, because as I watched, her shoe slowly retreated from her foot and the
upper half of her soft cotton sock was revealed. By any measure, her shoe was mostly off. I was so close, I could see
inside of her shoe where the label had worn away long ago. She tried to push her toes farther into the shoe but it was
too far gone. It was definitely going to happen, I knew it had to happen; it was just a simple case of gravity doing
its job.

Suddenly, Karen spun around to face me, so that now she was backing through the opening, and her toes
were pointing at the ceiling instead of at the floor. The shoe swung wildly from her toes, and couldn’t possible stay
on, but at the last instant, she wiggled the shoe back onto her foot making a partial recovery. I could hardly stand
it. She now had one foot on the roof, and her other dangling shoe that was extended straight out toward me, just
inches from my knee. The smallest accidental bump would knock it to the floor, stranding her out on the roof and minus
a shoe. I imagined slamming the door shut and locking her out…O.K. that wasn’t going to happen, but what if I just
clumsily bumped it? It would be so easy, but she was looking right at me. There just wasn’t anything I could do. The
opportunity evaporated in a split second, and it was too late.

She pulled her leg through the opening, barely
catching the heel of her shoe as it crossed over the sill. I could see that it had tumbled off of her foot and landed
on the roof, but the wall below the window obscured my view. She was looking down at the roof, holding on to the
window frame with both hands for balance, no doubt fishing her errant shoe from wherever it had landed. I pretended
not to notice and quickly stuck my head through the opening, but it was too late, I was just in time to see her heel
safely inserted into the shoe again. Disappointment doesn’t begin to describe my feelings at the time, and to add
insult to injury; I banged the back of my head on the frame and nearly knocked myself out cold. I had scored a goose
egg in the shoe hunt, and got another one on my bean.

Being quite a bit taller, I easily slid through the opening
without incident and we walked around the rooftop taking in the view of the city and the lakefront. It was nice out,
cold, but the sun was high and there wasn’t much breeze. The city looked crisp in the clear afternoon sunlight.

In
the center of the roof, there was a narrow masonry penthouse that housed the elevator equipment. It had a flat roof
that was about fifty feet above the one we were standing on.

“We can look at the next,” she said, following my gaze
upward. She was really pleasant to be around, and if she had any suspicions about my behavior at the window, she
didn’t let on.

We walked back to the open window and she stood next to it, indicating that I should go in first. I
climbed through and she handed my clipboard and her job file to me, before climbing through herself. To my dismay,
both shoes stayed firmly in place.

“It’s a kinda tough to get to this next roof,” she said as we entered the
mechanical room. I made a cursory check of the elevator switchgears and we continued on. At the back of the room,
Karen climbed up three or four steps that were like the steps on a stepladder, or on a ship, narrow open back steps
made of steel grating. She stood on the top step, up on her toes as she tried several keys on the padlocked door. Both
heels popped out of her shoes right in front of me, and suddenly, my heart rate jumped significantly. She swung open
the door and we entered a room with a giant water tank. The floor was several feet below us as we walked on a steel
grate catwalk. Karen squeezed through the narrow space between the water tank and the wall, and stopped, apparently
looking for something, and again popping her heel partially out of her shoe. I was tempted again. I could just
inadvertently kick it while she was facing away from me, it would be so easy, just long enough to get a look at her
foot, which by this time, had assumed unrealistic and goddess-like appearance in my imagination. Before I could
decide, she disappeared into the opening.

I squeezed through the gap and entered a cave like space in the corner of
the penthouse behind the giant water tank. It was small and dark, forcing us to stand nearly touching each other.
Karen produced a flashlight from a charger mounted on the wall, shining it up toward the ceiling, and illuminating an
access ladder that ran up the side of the water tank to a trap door thirty feet above our heads. She redirected the
beam to the ring of keys in her hand.

“I think it’s this one, I think…I hope it is,” she said, as she tried grabbing
the ladder while holding the flashlight and the keys in one hand. “Here, you hold the flashlight,” she said, handing
it off to me and starting up the ladder. With each step, her heels came completely free of her shoes as the rubber
soles deflected over the rungs of the ladder. As she stepped on the fifth rung, I was so close that her stockinged
heel was probably no more that 24 inches from my face. She seemed to pause there for a moment, although I’m sure it
was only my imagination.

“Could you shine the light on the lock?” she asked, as she reached the top of the ladder.

I pointed the flashlight upward, illuminating a spectacular view as she crouched at the top of the ladder, dancing
around while trying to get her shadow off to one side in order to see the lock. I could see that her heel was halfway
out of one shoe, and I continued to hope for any glimpse of the rest of her feet.

“Can you shine it to the left a
little?” she asked. I held the flashlight at arms length in my left hand. “That’s the wrong damn key,” she said under
her breath, but loud enough that I could hear her in the small space. I saw the key ring falling toward me after it
slipped through her fingers, landing with a sharp metallic clang on the steel catwalk, only inches from the foot wide
gap between the access floor and the tank.

I retrieved the keys and put them in my shirt pocket, and climbed
halfway up the ladder, still holding the flashlight in my hand. I hooked my elbow through the ladder and handed the
keys up to her, trying to be discreet since the top of my head was nearly rubbing the seat of her pants. Before I
could retreat to a respectable distance again, she held the keys up over my head.

“Can you shine the light up here
for a second?” she asked.

I switched the light to my other hand and directed the beam up at her. Relatively sure
that she couldn’t see past the flashlight in the dark, I cautiously turned my head to the right. Her stockinged heel
was completely free of her shoe and mere inches from my forehead. I probably could have licked her heel without moving
at all. It took all of the self-control I had left just to keep from burrowing my face into her soft cotton sole. Her
foot slipped another fraction of an inch from her shoe, until I thought it would just fall off, but it didn’t. I
grabbed the toe of her shoe with my hand. One quick yank and it would be off. She began to say something and I jerked
my hand away. Too obvious, but if I could bump it ever so slightly, it would come loose easily. I could hear her
trying several more keys in the lock as I pulled myself in tight to the ladder, and climbed a half step higher,
placing my shoulder lightly against the heel of her shoe. I heard the lock spring free, and all at once, the roof
hatch burst open with a sudden blast of brilliant sunlight. She was placing her hands over the edge of the hatch, and
I could see her toes flexing, working her way back into the shoe before climbing out onto the roof.

I knew it was
now or never. I bumped my shoulder hard against the back of her heel just as she took a step upward, sending her shoe
tumbling into the darkness below as her stockinged foot stepped on the last rung and out onto the roof.

“Oh my
God!” she shouted, startling me so badly that I almost lost my grip on the ladder. The adrenaline was rushing through
me; her hot, soft, stockinged foot had actually brushed the side of my face as it passed by. “Oh my God!” she said
again, as my head reeled, excited that her shoe was gone, and that her stockinged foot was outside on the icy roof,
but shrinking at her unexpected reaction. I looked up at her through the roof hatch, probably cowering. “Oh God,” she
said again, but more softly. “Are you O.K.?” she asked. I stared back at her dumbly. “I can’t believe I kicked you,
I’m so embarrassed,” she said, kneeling down on the roof.

“No, no, it’s O.K.,” I said quickly. “I’m fine, really,” I
said seeing that she was unconvinced. Even in my confusion, I had the presence of mind to climb up a few more steps
until my head was above the rim of the roof hatch. Karen stood up as I hooked my arms over the edge, and her white
stockinged foot was perched on the roof only a few feet in front of me, nearly at eye level. It was so unbelievable
that such an exquisite foot had emerged from such an unattractive shoe. Her ankle was thin and graceful leading to a
narrow rounded heel that was suspended an inch above the rubber surface. After rounding past lowest point, the curve
of her heel climbed softly into arch, like a wave rolling down to the surface of the roof. As she took a half step
back, her foot made a quarter turn revealing perfect toes in elegant profile, the smallest toe curling to rest lightly
on the flat surface, and each remaining toe replicating the exact curve, but extending slightly farther. All covered
in a bright white, soft cotton sock that was not really sheer, but not opaque either. I held the flashlight out to
her, and she dutifully stepped forward pressing her toes into the roof inches from my face, which was hot and red.
“I’ll go get your shoe,” I volunteered.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said seeming unconcerned. “Where’s it gonna
go?”

I contemplated how to get up onto the roof without embarrassing myself. Climbing around on buildings in dress
pants can be difficult in the best of circumstances, and suddenly, these pants were not fitting as comfortably as they
had been. I only hesitated for a moment, before she came to my rescue again.

“Are you bothered by heights?” she
asked sweetly. I never had been, but I didn’t reply. “It’s a such a small area, I could just show you what we did from
there.” She walked to the edge of the roof unevenly, her exquisite white foot following her ugly shoe. “Over here, we
installed a through wall flashing and replaced the copings.” She zipped her ski jacket, and then waved her hand in a
sweeping gesture in the direction of the rebuilt wall, all while balancing on one shoe and pointing her stockinged
toes, like a game show model offering up a side-by-side refrigerator/freezer. I followed her progress around the tiny
rooftop delighting in the stockinged foot show, and asking many questions to delay the magic from escaping. Finally,
Karen hobbled over to the roof hatch and steadied herself with one hand, while suspending her stocking clad toes
almost directly in front of me. I stopped with the questions, taking in the hypnotic moment.

“It’s a little chilly
out here,” she said, rubbing her toes with her free hand.

“Sorry,” I said, and started down the ladder again. We had
completed our work, if you can call it that, and I had witnessed a show I would never forget. Karen climbed down the
ladder after me, but left the roof hatch open. She said it was hard to work, and that the building engineer would
close and lock it later. The area behind the tank was much brighter with the sunlight streaming in through the open
roof hatch, certainly bright enough to see that her shoe had not come to rest at the expected location near the base
of the ladder. Karen stepped cautiously onto the access grate and searched around for the missing shoe. The area was
so small that we easily located it within seconds. It was right there under the access grating, about four feet below
where we stood. When we shined the flashlight through the grate, it was easy to make out the top of the shoe where it
broke the surface of the oily puddle it had fallen into.

I put my fingers between the slots of the grate and pulled,
but the panels were bolted down. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “Maybe the building engineer could get it back.”

Karen
focused the flashlight on the shoe. “I probably don’t want it back from the looks of it,” she said sounding dejected.
“Let’s just go.”

I turn away quickly, inwardly thrilled with the chance to see her stockinged foot some more, but
feeling bad about ruining her shoe. I returned the flashlight to the wall charger and squeezed between the tank and
the wall into the mechanical room.

Karen followed close behind but stopped halfway through the gap. “SHIT!” she
hissed, “my sock is snagged on the grate or something.” I envisioned her stepping through the opening, her naked toes
missing a sock, and my mind raced ahead to our trip through the building. The thought of Karen heading out onto the
city barefoot was captivating. I desperately wanted to see her toes.

“Bastard,” she snarled, yanking her leg from
behind her. “Sorry about that,” she said lightly and started to laugh. “I don’t always talk like that, at least not
during business hours.” She examined the bottom of her sock as she leaned against the wall.

“I don’t usually throw
peoples shoes into the moat during business hours,” I offered, laughing with her, and thinking that wasn’t entirely
true.

She wiggled her stockinged toes in the air in front of her, showing off the ragged hole that exposed her last
two toes. They were painted a pale frosty pink color that I would have given anything to put my lips on and taste
right then and there. We made our way back to the hallway of the building and I somehow managed to keep it together.
In my mind, I imagined that the elevator had stopped between floors, and I was ripping her sock apart and kissing her
perfect toes. I shook off the vision and was just about to press the down button on the elevator bank, when she
spoke.

“You go on ahead,” she said, trying again to rearrange the hole in her sock to cover her toes. “I’ll
just…well this is a little embarrassing, and,” her voice trailed off as we both looked down at her shredded sock where
a third perfect toe was peeking through. “I don’t really want to see the building manager or anybody else for that
matter,” she said.

“Why don’t we walk down together,” I offered, “That way we can share a taxi.”

“My company makes
us take the “L” or the bus,” she said, “and besides, I might just go home for the day.” She looked at her watch to see
that it was 3:30.

“Do you live in the city?” I asked, and learned that she lived on the North side near the
ballpark. “I’m going right by there,” I lied, “I can drop you off on my way,” I added and reached for the down button
again.

Her mood brightened considerably. “Hold on a second, O.K.?” she asked. Karen leaned back against the wall,
brought her knee up to her chest, and peeled her sock off, setting her beautiful bare foot on the carpeted floor just
as some businessmen exited the elevator. I stared at her feet with my jaw hanging open, but she didn’t pay any
attention to me, eyeing the men suspiciously. When they had gone, she lifted her other knee and pulled her shoe off,
peeling off the other sock as well. I was in heaven, watching as she walked fifteen or twenty feet to the trash can
and dropped the torn sock into it. She was so beautiful, as she returned to where I stood and leaned against the wall
again, momentarily displaying all ten toes in a perfect arc, before pulling the remaining sock over her lovely foot.
She straightened up and slipped her sockless foot into her remaining shoe and turned to face me. “It was freezing up
there on the roof,” she said, “and I’m sure the sidewalk isn’t much better.”

When the elevator arrived, there were
other people in the cab, and she motioned for me to wait for the next one. After several more tries, we got an empty
elevator and she tentatively stepped in with her angelic white stockinged foot gleaming against the black polished
marble floor. She stood in the rear corner and immediately hid her exposed stockinged foot behind her pant leg, while
keeping an eye on the security camera. The car stopped at several floors and Karen stiffened when people got on, until
they were safely turned around and facing the front.

We walked through the building lobby silently, and although no
one said anything, it was obvious that everyone noticed her. I left her perched on one shoe against a planter while I
went out to hail a cab. When a Yellow Cab stopped at the curb, I stood by the open door and waived to her. She made no
move to leave, and I wondered if she had changed her mind. But then when there was a lull in the sidewalk traffic, I
saw her cautiously make her way to the revolving door and push through. Once she emerged onto the sidewalk, she broke
into a kind of skipping, hopping, sprint for most of the thirty yards across the wide sidewalk, until she accidentally
stepped out of her shoe, slapping her bare foot on the icy sidewalk for the three or four steps it took to slow down.
She raced back to where the empty shoe was laying on its side and tried to turn it upright with her toes. She pushed
it around several times before simply picking it up with her hand. Then she calmly turned and walked over to the taxi
at a relaxed pace, threw the shoe into the back, and sat down as I held the door for her.

In the taxi, she put her
shoe onto her bare foot after about a minute, and we talked about nothing in particular for the twenty minutes it took
to get up to Wrigleyville. I stole a few more glances at her stockinged foot, but that was about it. I offered her a
hundred bucks to buy a new pair of work shoes. At first, she resisted, but I told her that I could expense it to the
new owners of the building. She seemed to think that was O.K., but it was still too much. Finally, she shook my hand
and tucked the bill into her pocket smiling. As I watched her white sock disappear up the sidewalk and into the
building where she lived, I wished that I could loose her shoes for a hundred tomorrow, and another one on the day
after, and the day after that.