edited 11/9/16

white stay up stockings /black shoes: August 2013

Nylon beige panty hose; real black 1960s stilettos

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It was about ten years ago, during the winter, when I was living in Sydney.  As I always say, 'if you can find a straight man in Sydney, you are doing well!'  (This from a fag hag) and finding a footboy - well you can imagine how hard that was.

I was in the Oaks Hotel/Bar at Neutral Bay, near North Sydney on a very crowded Friday night. It was commonly known as the Meat Market -  as the 'suits' from town would stop on their way home and have a few beers and try and pick up. 

I was wearing a straight black dress with long sleeves, with black fish net stockings and black heels.  

Being only 158cm tall, heels when 'out on the turps' are a must.  

I am not a big drinker either.  I was driving that night so a quick glass or two of vino was about my limit.  I met my gay pal Patrick in the primary bar, and we stood at the bar surveying the crowd before us.

'Whaddya think'?  I asked Pat, sipping my Merlot,   'Anyone here meets your high standards?'

Patrick rolled his eyes.

'Alas, Fifi, nothing worth fucking!'

Well,  that just about summed up the crowd.  

It was 9 pm, and the place was busy but Pat was right, it must have been a full moon, or after works drinks,  as the usual 'beautiful people' who leant on the bar, were absent.

Pat suddenly put his glass of beer down on the counter and whispered to me 

'Oh, don't look now, but I think I got a signal from the guy in the red tie over there...'

Slowly turning around, I saw a young chap, about 30, in a navy blue pinstripe suit, white shirt, red tie.  Brown straight hair, blue eyes, nice looking.   I was sure that this gorgeous man was looking in our direction. 

Then, as I tried not to look too obvious, it dawned on me - Mr Handsome wasn't looking at Pat -  he was looking at my shoes.   

'Oh yeah'  I whispered to Pat, 'I see him'  I took a sip of the Merlot, 'but Pat -  honey, honestly, I think he's after me, not you...'

'Oh, bugger!'  Pat said in a dejected tone 'How come all the juicy hunks fancy you?'

'Must be that new perfume I'm wearing - 'Eau de High Heels'.'

Pat quickly looked at my feet. 'Oh yeah, you have the F.M shoes on tonight I see -  hoping to find a footboy then?'

'Well' I smiled back at him 'you never know your luck in the big city.'

As I looked again, Mr Handsome with the red tie was walking towards the other end of the bar, about 2 m away from where Pat and I were standing.

'Well, I would make a move now, if I were you Fifi...' and Pat dipped his head towards him.  'And I'll check out the downstairs bar; I'll text you if I manage to score...'

Pat moved off into the crowd, and I walked to the end of the bar, leaving my empty glass.  I squeezed in next to my quarry, and accidentally on purpose stood on his foot with my shoe.  He winced and looked around.

'I'm sorry!'  I smiled  'Just trying to get another quick drink in before I go home...'

He glanced down at my feet.  That was all the information I needed.

'Well', he said, 'I'd better make room for you...' and he stood side on so I could reach the bar.

'Thanks...' I smiled, 'did you just drop in here after work?'   I was waving a $20 note at the barman hoping to get served.   

The barman came over: 'A glass of Merlot and my friend here will have...' I turned and said in my best sexy voice, 'what would you like to drink?'   

Mr Handsome looked surprised.  'Oh!  OK, I'll have whatever you're drinking...' 

I ordered another Merlot, and both glasses arrived.   

I handed him his glass, 'Cheers...' I said.  

'Many thanks, and yes, cheers!'

'Where are you sitting?' I asked, taking a sip.

'I was sitting over there' - he nodded towards the back wall - 'But the pal I came with has gone.  Sorry, yes, to answer your question, I did come in after work...'

We managed to find a table for two in the beer garden.

'Sorry, my name's Fiona,  but my pal's call me Fifi' I said, sitting down in the black metal chair.

 I found out that this amazing looking man was named David, he used to work for a company in North Sydney as an I.T. manager. 

The conversation flowed on from there for a while.

David was from Melbourne originally and, I have to say, as he was talking he was taking the odd sneaky look at my shoes.   Maybe a secret footboy?   Time would hopefully tell.

I checked my phone and saw nothing from Patrick.  So I guessed he had picked up in the other bar, and made a mental note to call him the next day.  

Putting my phone away, I asked  'So David, where do you live?' 

'I've just moved into a flat in Mosman' he said.

'No - Oh that's fantastic - I live in Mosman too, I'm in Shadforth Street, renting a little one bedroom flat ...' I said.

He laughed, 'Now way - I'm in Raglan Street, probably just behind you...'

I smiled back while glancing at my watch,  'Well neighbour, sadly I have to go...'

Knocking back the rest of his wine,  David said 'Wanna share a taxi?'

I'd driven my old 1989 Mitsubishi and parked it around the corner.  

But the idea of a taxi ride seemed promising so I quickly said 'Sure...'

I managed to hail a Silver Service taxi on the street, and we began the short journey to Mosman.  Well, it was now or never time.  Could I lure him back to 'Casa Fifi' to see if he would worship my feet?

'I was wondering David,' I purred, 'if you fancy coming back to my place and having a taste of the 25-year-old Scotch whisky I have in my drinks cabinet?'

Those blue eyes flashed in the reflection of the neon lights, as the local shops sped past us.

'Sounds like a plan Fifi... OK!' he said slowly.  

Arriving at my unit block, I paid the taxi driver, and we walked up to my small apartment on the first floor.

'Come in, grab a seat and I'll fix us some drinks...' I said as I tossed my bag onto the dining table.  I retrieved the box in my 1930s cocktail cabinet that held my Dewars whisky and found two glasses.  I poured a generous amount into each tumbler.

'Nice place you have here...' he said.  'I love the poster of Ella Fitzgerald on the wall there.'

'Thanks - I've been here about a year'  I said as I handed David a glass 'do you want some ice or water in that?'

'No thanks, I'll just sip it slowly...' he replied.

We sat down on the sofa, with the coffee table in front of us; I stretched out my back fish net clad legs to rest on it.   His eyes lit up.   'Has anyone told you that you have excellent feet?'  he said.

'Thank you... ' I said slowly.

'I love the pantyhose you have on, I do like fishnets...' he said.

'No David, these aren't pantyhose  - they're stockings...' I whispered.

Blinking quickly, he gulped down another mouthful. ' Me too, I... I love them ...'

Taking a huge gulp of the last of the whisky, I turned and smiled.

I then swung my legs around, so that my heels were resting on his pinstripe-clad knees.  

'Feel them' I murmured, 'feel the weave of them... I only buy the best ones by Kayser ...'

His hand was slightly shaking as he put the whisky glass on the coffee table and began slowly stroking my stocking clad legs.

'Do you like the feel of them?'  I asked.

Suddenly, he pushed my feet away and jumped up.  

'I'm sorry... so sorry, I... I have to go...'

I stood up and smiled.  'David, it's OK...'  

He looked embarrassed.  

'Now then, is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to meet me...?'  I said slowly, as I could see the biggest bulge in his crotch; this man was hard.  

He smiled weakly back.  'You'll think I'm some weirdo. what sort of a man likes women's feet?'

Walking towards him I put my arms around his neck, and  I whispered in his ear 'One that turns me on!'

With that,  a sigh of relief emanated from his lips, and he slowly turned and kissed me with a passion I hadn't felt for a while.  

'Really Fifi, you're not just saying that?'

Walking to the coffee table, I put one foot on it and slowly lifted my dress to reveal my lacy black suspenders and stocking tops.  I undid my right leg suspender and slowly rolled down the stocking to my feet, and removed it and threw it on the floor.  I did he same to the other leg.  He was agog!  And that bulge was getting bigger.

I quickly removed my dress and suspender belt until I was just standing in front of him in just my black lacy, skimpy panties and matching push up bra.  

As he was looking a bit worried, it was time I took a bit of control.  

'Come here David' I said as I sat down on the sofa, 'and get on your knees and start licking my toes...'

Realising what I wanted him to do, he said...