Caught between a rock and a high heel 08

"Well, how did your first day go, yesterday?" Tom Watkins inquired; his gaze fixed on Kieron as he sat cross-legged on his office couch.

"Like, great!" Kieron exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Everyone here is, like, super friendly. It's like, one big happy family or something." Kieron cringed inwardly as he spoke, forcing a fake smile on his face. The truth was, the day had been a total nightmare, but he didn't want Tom to know that.

"Ah, but that is how we achieve greatness here," Tom exclaimed, a triumphant gleam in his eye. "We stand together, united in our strength and purpose. I have always believed that the power of the collective far surpasses that of any single person."

As Kieron shifted uneasily in his seat, he nodded his head while nervously fiddling with the hem of his flashy shorts. Though he had initially thought they were better than a skirt, the tightness with which they squashed his manhood between his legs left him feeling uncertain.

"Kiera, tell me your thoughts on designer brands," Tom asked, his gaze fixed intensely on the agitated crossdresser before him. "Are they a vital necessity?"

Exhausted and preoccupied with his attire, Kieron momentarily spoke out of character. "They are a destructive force on this planet. They excessively charge for their products and obtain them through unethical means. It is unacceptable how they manipulate individuals into going beyond their financial capabilities just to fit in and be accepted, all for the sake of a brand logo."

As he gazed at Kieron with narrowed eyes, Tom's sly smile revealed his surprise at the unexpected response. "Interesting," he replied with a hint of intrigue.

Suddenly realizing that his response had been far too articulate for someone like Kiera, Kieron blushed and added, "I mean, like, they are so pretty though," with a girly-sounding giggle as he tried to salvage the situation.

As Kieron's eyes stayed fixated on Tom's every move, the next ten seconds felt like an eternity. He could feel his heart racing as Tom slowly sipped from his coffee cup, unsure if he had made a grave mistake and ready to flee at a moment's notice. But to Kieron's amazement, Tom chuckled and exclaimed, "You continue to surprise me, young lady. Your answer was not what I was expecting, but it's refreshing to hear. With an attitude like that, our project is sure to be a lot more interesting."

"What project is that, sir?" Kieron asked while playing with the silky sleeves of his boldly coloured blouse, his relief at the lifting of tension mixed with nervous anticipation of the unknown.

"Please, Call me Tom. And the project I have in mind aligns perfectly with your narrative!" Tom exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I have an associate who runs a website that buys and sells second-hand designer clothes. She will send products for review, earning her some publicity while you receive free products and, with luck, I make some money. I feel the idea has the potential to satisfy all parties involved.”

“You want me to write about designer clothes?” Kieron asked, looking confused as he shifted in his seat.

"With your stated passion for fashion and your opposing views on the industry's operation, the possibilities for creating extraordinary pieces are endless," Tom declared as he reached under his desk.

Kieron's eyes widened in surprise as the older man gleefully pulled out a pair of lofty wedge pumps and placed them on the desk. "These will be your first assignment," Tom declared with a devious smile, gesturing towards the towering shoes.

"What am I supposed to do with those?!" Kieron exclaimed with a mixture of disgust and surprise in his voice.

Tom stood tall, holding the wedges in hand as he addressed Kieron. “You wear them,' he declared. 'Just go about your normal life, but document your experiences with the shoes. Do you need help slipping them on?” Tom crouched down next to the wide-eyed man, offering assistance. But Kieron shook his head, taking the shoes with a shaky hand. “I can manage,” he said, trying to sound confident.

Tom stood back up, a satisfied look on his face. “Excellent. When you're done, give me five hundred to a thousand words. Write it from any angle you like. We'll post it to the website and see how it trends.”

Kieron tried to process everything, feeling overwhelmed by the strange request. Tom noticed Kieron's hesitation. “Are you sure you don't need help?” he asked, eyeing Kieron's pantyhosed legs. But Kieron shook his head, quickly removing his blue pumps and replacing them with the wedges.

When the scary-looking pumps were in place, he looked up at Tom with a bewildered expression. Tom chuckled as he read the young man’s mind. “There's a place on the corner I like to eat at sometimes,” he said while grinning broadly. “Why don't you fetch me a sandwich and a coffee? It'll give you a chance to break those puppies in. After that, you can see if Gina needs any help."

Desperate to escape, Kieron frantically slipped his old shoes into his large handbag, his shaking ankles struggling to adjust to their new angled position. "Alright," he stuttered, his eyes fixed on the door as he longed to flee the room. "A sandwich and a coffee. Got it." Struggling to keep his balance, Kieron awkwardly shuffled across the room, his heart racing as he made his way out the door.

As he stepped out of the office, Kieron's unsteady gait was on full display as he got a curious glance from a couple of men strolling by. Glancing over at the receptionist's desk, he was relieved to see that Gina was not there, giving him a chance to avoid small talk with her.

Digging through his bag, Kieron retrieved his phone and quickly typed a message to Becca: "Call me. I need help." The urgency in his words was palpable, reflecting the sense of desperation he felt in that moment.

(See image 15)

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Collapsing against the cold concrete wall outside the office building, Kieron felt more exhausted than ever before. His lower legs ached, and his toes were numb from hours of running errands for the office.

Looking up at the towering building in front of him, Kieron took the opportunity to slip off one of his new, painful shoes and stretch out his cramped toes. As he rotated his ankle, he shivered slightly, realizing for the first time that he had forgotten his coat. The thought of grabbing his warm, cosy fur coat hadn't even crossed his mind as he left the building in a daze. Since slipping them on, every step in the tall wedge heels had been a struggle, causing him to feel hot and sweaty just from walking.

Thinking about the review he would have to write for the heavy, cumbersome shoes that were causing him so much discomfort, Kieron shook his head. What was there to say except that they were the most uncomfortable, impractical pair of footwear he had ever encountered? They pinched his toes and slipped at his heels, making it feel like an obstacle course just to walk on the paved streets. It had taken all of his concentration just to avoid rolling an ankle. Becca had had no sympathy, in fact, she had found it amusing before telling him to toughen up and get used to his new, taller perspective on the world.

It was shocking to think about how much the young Irish man's life had changed in less than a week. He had gone from a carefree, independent life to one of restrictive feminine outfits and a full-time job as a fashion writer, something he knew nothing about. He felt trapped as if a noose had been slipped around his neck and was being tightened with each passing day. He needed to get fired and make it appear as if it wasn't his fault. That way Becca would have to fulfil her end of the bargain and buy him that flight home.

Slipping the intimidatingly tall wedge shoe back onto his sore pantyhosed foot, Kieron took a deep breath. The first order of business was surviving the rest of the day without permanently damaging his ankles and legs. After that, he could put his plan to get fired into action.

With renewed determination, Kieron set off towards the entrance of the office. For the first time all day, he felt a wave of optimism. His plan was simple, but it just might work, he thought to himself as he stomped forward, feeling the wind gust around his tired, nylon-clad legs.

(See image 16)