10am. Frank opened the doors to his shoe boutique. Adele Bruni was waiting on a bench.
"Oh Frank, thank God! I have this very special occasion to attend this evening! I need something that reeks of money but is subtle at the same time.”
Frank ushered her to a chair. “You just relax Mrs. Bruni. We'll find you something just fabulous.”
Frank pulled up his fitting stool and sat in front of her, Brannock foot measuring device in hand.
“Stand-up please.” Mrs. Bruni kicked-off her status-Pumas and did as she was told. The cold metal sent a shiver up her spine as Frank eased the length and width of the device's scales around her naked skin. Frank began massaging the top of her foot.
“Our feet continue to grow even as adults.”
“They do?” He adjusted her big toe with his forefinger and massaged the others.
“Yes. Indeed. It's natural. Prior to pregnancy; all the bones loosening to prepare the body to bring life into the world.”
“Yes Frank, I've heard that Frank.” He was massaging her foot vigorously, and gently eased her back into her chair and guided her foot into his lap.
“That growing never stops. The pressure of everyday living and moving about keeps the feet growing...expanding...bursting.”
“Yes...pressure... intense pressure,” Mrs. Bruni whispered. She was getting breathy and flush. This is their ritual. He knew he could sell her glass flip-flops and she'd buy them, blindly. Frank knew all these things as he came in his pants. Mrs. Bruni moaned and slowly edged her foot from his lap.
“You're still an eight Mrs. Bruni.”
“Wonderful,” she said as a bead of sweat inched down from her hairline. “I'm thinking something in black patent.”
Tropic of Cancer