by Jim Shue
A popular source stems from Prince Henry of Prussia’s visit to Chicago in the early 1900s. An extravagant man who often sought out various entertainment establishments during his travels.
As the story goes, Prince Henry was on a business trip and in the evening expressed interest to his closest advisors in the Everleigh Club on Randolph street just west of downtown Chicago. A most famous and luxurious house know for a particular type of entertainment, a house of ill-repute.
The Everleigh sisters heard the whispers of the Prince’s interest and prepared a banquet in his honor with many distinguished guests. A ruse to provide an opportunity for Prince Henry to visit the establishment without a sense of impropriety.
The Prince honored by invitation and could not possibly refuse such a gesture. The event in his honor a necessary diversion. Arrangements made, and the Prince and his entourage accepted and happily attended the event. Many of the distinguished guests found dancing on the tables with frilly undergarments and high heels kicking up over their heads.
In an extravagant and decadent move, the Prince took Minna Everleigh’s high heel from her foot as she stood on the table in front of him and filled it with champagne. He toasted to the young proprietor and thanked her profusely for the kind and generous invitation.
The Prince’s entourage not wanting the handsome Prince to be alone with his grand toast to the Everleigh’s sisters hospitality each took a shoe from a fair maiden nearest them. The entourage raised the high heel shoes, and waitresses filled them with champagne. They joined the Prince in the toast.
Word spread far and wide of the decadent Prince’s toast, and drinking from a woman’s shoe spread like wildfire among the world’s elites. A symbol opulence and extravagance. Everyone was doing it.
A phrase coined to honor such a practice. ‘You drink water from a dipper and champagne from a slipper.’ The exact origins of such a method are not entirely clear, but the story of Prince Henry of Prussia’s business trip to Chicago seemed to hold the highest regard. If a Prince would do it, surely it was accepted practice in high society. In truth, it probably was just a guy with a fetish for feet having a bit too much to drink, perhaps the Prince of Prussia was that guy.
The story enamored James as it played to his fetish. It was not Russian oligarchs as he explained to Sara, but the essence of the story served as a flirtatious episode befitting royalty. It was fashionable of the world elites, politicians, stage and screen celebrities alike and lasted for decades.
To James’s dismay, the practice of drinking champagne from a high heeled shoe ceased by the end of the 1950s until he dared to start the exercise again on the 16th floor of a hotel with Sara. A practice that he hoped would return to the mainstream. It was a thing, and a thing never really leaves us.
The practice was hinted at in 1999 by the renowned Christian Louboutin’s collaboration with a famous champagne chateau; A stiletto heel sold with the opulent bubbly at the turn of the millennium. The offering served as the inspiration for James’s indulgence with Sara.
James worshipped Sara from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. They made passionate love on the 16th floor of that hotel—a celebration for the millennium remembered, etched in both of their memories.
To be continued.
Moving Day
The truck was nearly full. Boxes packed and loaded, furniture stacked carefully, but not without a precarious intent. Chair legs balanced on boxes, moving blankets draped over tables and chairs. Boxes upon boxes piled to the ceiling of the moving truck that seemed too large when it was empty, now space was premium as the last few items nestled into the cavities between chair legs and boxes.
Yvette was leaving the nest, so to speak, her apartment. The budget was tight, but worth the experience. Her long time friend was joining her on this endeavor to share costs. College years behind her and ready for what comes next. Her roommate already settled in, Yvette waited a week before gathering her things and making the move official.
After graduating from college, Yvette’s job was coming up on its first anniversary. Yvette and her friend concocted a plan to move in together. A small declaration of success by establishing independence from their parents.
James and Yvette met by chance at a dance lesson. A local bar hosted a swing dance lesson every Wednesday at 6:30. Each week was something new, from basic swing, Charleston, Lindy hop all to attract business on a weeknight. A big band lined up to play a couple of sets after the lesson for students to practice the new teachings. Swing dance resurgence in the late 90s spurred on by a couple of movies that feature the old dance form.
The lessons often frequented by singles looking for love. Occasionally a couple or two joined the fun. The husbands or boyfriend in the established relationship brought along kicking and screaming sometimes.
James enjoyed the dance, and the side benefit of several single ladies piqued his interest. The dance instructor paired up singles, as it is a lead-follow style of dance—the gentlemen in the dominant role. The lead and follows would rotate every few minutes as part of the lesson. The instructors indicated that it was good practice to experience other leads and follows. Learn to match and mirror different people to hone your dance skills. That all seemed fair and reasonable, but for James, it was the chance to meet many different ladies in one evening. Speeding dating with a dance move thrown in for good measure.
James had been in attendance nearly every week for two months, and his skills advanced beyond the beginner level rapidly. He was a seasoned participant when Yvette showed up for the first time.
Yvette’s smile was infectious. Pretty girl with a bubbly personality that lit up the room. James was enamored at first sight. Yvette was with a friend for comfort and security, no doubt. A friendly face to talk to at the new experience, the newbies chatted near the bar before the lesson.
James was flying solo this particular evening. His wingman was not able to attend. His wingman often missed lessons as he was not as interested in the lessons. James already made quite a few new friends that were repeat students. He was comfortable coming without an escort with the expectations that some friendly faces would also be in attendance.
Yvette was a radiant, beautiful girl, blonde hair in a bob style. She wore a dress for the dance class and a pair of mary jane shoes, low heel with a strap across the top of the foot perfect for kicking her heels up.
Yvette felt James’s stare and turned his way. His apparent interest was prolific from the very beginning; he was caught in her web already. She smiled back at him, and her blue eyes seemed to smile along with her mouth. James smiled back and turned back to his group of friends.
The dance rotation had a bit of spice in it this evening. James moved to the line up casually, not trying to look too obvious. He paired with a girl he has danced with for several weeks. James made flirty glances to the new girl that he had yet to discover her name, but liked her look. Yvette was three dance partners away.
The dance lesson started. James noticed that the new girl was not that new; she could dance. She had done this before.
“Rotate,” dance instructor instructed.
James nodded to his first partner as he moved to the next one. Only two more rotations.
After a few more minutes of dancing, the rotation paired James with the new girl. The dance instructed covered the basic steps on the first couple of rotations and now started in on a tandem Charleston. Yvette turned her back to her new dance partner, a smile over her shoulder a sign of something. Her profile was perfect.
Sweet smile, she likes me. I hope she likes me.
“My name is James,” James whispered in her ear. He held out his hand's palms up on either side of her waist. In-kind, Yvette placed her hands in his feeling a firm pressure. The pressure was necessary to execute a proper lead.
“…rock step kick step,” the dance instructor instructed to the beat of the music. “Someone is having fun.” The instructor nodded to Yvette, and her big smile had continued, perhap
s grew larger as she worked through the tandem Charleston with James. The tandem position put James behind her and could not see her pretty smile, but he was pleased she was having fun. A desperate hope that his efforts are what created the smile worthy of comment.
She nodded to the instructor and turned her head slightly to the side as they danced. She was smiling, more significant, better this time. “I am Yvette.”
“Nice to meet you, Yvette,” he whispered as he breath tickled her neck.
She is beautiful, and she can dance.
“Rotate,” the dance instructor instructed. The moment was fleeting but impacting. James entangled, and apparently, so was Yvette. A match made on the dance floor. James’s mom was right; swing dance class was a great place to meet available young ladies.
The lesson ended, and James approached Yvette like a viper seeking prey. Careful to box out any other lads that might have been enamored by Yvette. They danced the rest of the night. James was mesmerized from the first instance. From her pretty blue eyes down to her toes.
He casually complimented her mary janes, careful not to reveal his preference for a pretty foot. She liked the attention, and the shoes were new. The compliment was received well.
James was relieved; he did not want to share too much. Scare her off before he had a chance to impress her. Little did he know the hook was set just as deep in her as it was in him.
Moving day was stressful, but James gladly agreed to help his girlfriend of only a few months. A place of her own would surely improve their time together. Jim lived alone in an apartment, and Yvette’s new location was a lot closer than her parent’s house. A great opportunity unfolded for them.
Yvette’s passion for pretty shoes extended well beyond the mary janes he first complimented on the dance floor. On the intervening dates, she demonstrated her love with a variety of high heels. James’s compliments welcome but often concealed within other more innocuous compliments. He was careful to hide his interest, his fetish, but he liked the selection of shoes she had worn innocently enough on several dates.
On moving day, he witnessed her predilection that mirrored his own. In her closet was nearly a hundred pairs of shoes.
She has a shoe fetish!
The lions share had a heel, a lot of sexy sandals, pumps of all kinds, strappy shoes, stilettos and boots, a closet full of shoes—a perfect complement to James’s fetish. James helped pack the shoes to his delight; he picked up a particularly sassy pair of high heels. “These are hot.”
“Prom shoes, they still fit,” Yvette said, with a broad smile. The infectious smile he first encountered at the dance lesson. “I wore these only once, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of them.”
“I would like to see the dress that went with it,” James mused, trying desperately to mask his fetish. Yvette stepped into the sassy heel. A momentary pause in the packing to test the fit. “See they still fit, what do you think?”
James’s jaw seemed to be dislodged from the joint as it hung down slack.
Forget the dress. The heels look good with the capris.
“They do fit, they look hot, when are you going to wear those for me?” James responded. He looked at Yvette, and she smiled, a little more devious this time. Her foot encased in the pretty shoe, twisting her ankle and grinding the heel ever so slightly into the carpet in the closet. Jim looked at her, smiling eyes. Careful not to reveal too much.
“I need something to wear with them besides a prom dress. These heels are fancy.”
She is teasing me, could she know?
She slipped out of the shoe and handed it back to James, and he packed it in the box along with many other shoes.
She is more incredible than I thought.
Her older brother and another couple of friends helped move the big stuff into the new apartment. Her brother Bryan and his buddy John sat at the kitchen table, sipping on beers and eating pizza. An excellent reward for helping with the move. Her roommate Lisa was sitting on the counter, chatting. The moving put on hold for now.
James and Yvette were in the living room. “Move it over a little more,” Yvette stated. Jim bumped his hip into the side of the couch. It moved over an inch or two.
“Perfect,” Yvette exclaimed. She held up her hands, signaling stop. Jim responded and walked over towards Yvette; the placement was proper, perfectly centered on the wall without question.
“Move the coffee table in front of the couch,” Yvette stated again. Jim dutifully lifted the end of the coffee table and pulled it along the carpet. A moment before he set it down, the leg came loose. It was an older table relocated from her parent's basement. The pin might have worked itself loose while shipping.
Jim sat down, crossed his legs in front of the table leg. Carefully inspected the leg for damage; it looked ok, just came loose. The embedded screw only needed to be re-seated. It did not require an engineering degree, but James attacked the problem as if it did.
Yvette stepped next to Jim. Her pretty bare feet were now standing next to him. He looked at her and held up the table leg; she had her hands on hips and looked down at the separated leg. James tested the embedded screw to ensure it was still secure. Yvette shifted her stance and weight slightly to one leg and bent her other leg at the knee while resting one foot on the ball of her foot. Her red toes a distraction, that James could not will himself to avert a stare. He looked, her creamy foot only a few inches from his thigh, her arch exposed with her foot upon the ball. Her toes scrunched.
“Now you have done it,” Bryan called out. “Beware the wraith of my sister.” Bryan mused. James has met Bryan a couple of times in the last few months. He enjoyed teasing his younger sister. It was not a secret that she could be a bit demanding at times.
“Oh, stop it, Bryan,” Yvette snarled at her brother. “Eat your pizza.”
“It will be ok,” James reassured Yvette. He lifted the end of the table that was still standing on three legs, although slightly tilted. The embedded screw inserted into the threads and re-secured. “All fixed.”
“My hero,” Yvette responded. She sat on the couch and put her feet up on top of the table that James just repaired. He was still sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her feet crossed at the ankle in front of him. Again he could not stop himself from looking at her feet.
As he glanced, she flexed her ankle and turned the top foot slightly to the side, offering a better view of her creamy foot contrasted by the bright red toenail polish. James’ glance was quick, and he looked back at Yvette. Her arms now crossed over her chest. She was looking right at James, with a big smile on her face. She tipped her head to the side just a little bit. A slight nod to the side, big smile, it was cute.
Does she know what she is doing to me?
James was painfully aware of his discomfort. Yvette’s feet were resting on the coffee table near his face; she propped them up after sitting on the couch. Yvette was nearly prone, leaning back into the cushions on the sofa. Yvette smiled broadly, a look of satisfaction, and she was happy, satisfied with the progress. She crossed her ankles and swiveled her feet slightly. A slow-motion, rubbing her feet together. James could hear the smooth skin of her feet sliding together as she oscillated her feet. Her smile continued as she looked at James.
James sat on the floor at her feet. He looked up at her. The murmur from the kitchen caught his attention. The tease was intense; his gaze shifted from Yvette’s smile, desperately trying not to look at her feet. A fear of giving away his secret. His infatuation with her feet was overwhelming. They were so close he could reach out and touch them. His efforts to avoid making it evident that he was looking at her feet, stealing glances, was interrupted. Bryan and his friend excused themselves after having finished the pizza and slammed the beers. Lisa went with them.
A mountain of boxes impeded their entry into the bedroom. The headboard and bed frames pushed to the side. Yvette pushed a box or two out of the way. James helped.
“We need to move these boxes into the hall t
o make room for the bed,” Yvette declared. Her hands returned to her hips. The term ‘we’ used loosely; James jumped at the request acknowledging that she wanted him to move the boxes. The task accomplished in short order.
The headboard positioned against the wall opposite the entry. James steadied the two-legged piece of furniture and craned his neck backward slightly, waiting on Yvette to confirm placement. A few adjustments; she was satisfied.
James reached for his small toolset that he kept in the car. It was a wrench, pliers, and a multipurpose ratcheting screwdriver. He brought them in expecting to assemble some furniture like the bed frame.
James knelt next to the headboard, a noticeable pressure building in his trousers. He was young and accustomed to sometimes inappropriate arousals, but this time seemed unusual. He has been working, moving boxes, now assembling a bed frame.
What the hell is manual labor getting me hard?
James internalized the comment. His focus trained on the bed frame assembly. Yvette walked up behind him, her hands still on her hips. The palms flipped and pressing against her kidneys as she stretched backward slightly. The day's activity was taking its toll on her petite frame, even though the bulk of the heavy lifting done by James and the other guys under the careful supervision of Yvette.
His arousal heightened as he assembled the bed frame. The first length was secured to the headboard and laid out into the room. The other end was resting on the floor for now, but it supported the headboard. James crawled over to the other side to secure the frame on that side.
Yvette was standing near that end of the headboard. James on all fours, with his tools in his hands. Yvette is still standing with her hands on her hips. Her seemingly long legs for a petite frame garnered attention as he crawled over to secure the other side of the bed frame. Her crimson toes exposed. His eyes fixated on the pretty toes.