Michael has managed to get out the door, but will he just turn around and hammer to be let back in?

These Boots Were Made For Walking

Michael heard the door slam behind him. His first reaction was to turn around and go back into the house before anyone saw him. As this thought occulted to him, he heard Mrs P engage the door chain. It was obvious that she wasn't going to allow him back in without a lot of noise on his part, which would draw exactly the sort of attention that he did not want to see.

Michael started to think, something he hadn't been doing since Mrs P had come up with her suggestion. If he couldn't go back, he would have to go forward. After all, what was the worst that could happen to him? As the horrors paraded across his mind, he quickly rephrased the question. What was the worst that was likely to happen to him? OK, assuming it all went well, what was the best that could happen to him? As his panic dissipated, Michael realised that he had been too busy to look around, and see who was on the street, wondering what he was up to.

A quick glance reassured him that there was no one around, just the stopped bus with Danielle, Mrs Ps cute neighbour, and her niece getting off. Not wanting them to see him, Michael turned away and started walking up the street, in the opposite direction.

Trying not to standout too much, he put all the hasty lessons of the morning into effect. As he did so, he soon realised the some of the differences between the lessons and real life. The first thing he noticed was his shoes. The living room had been carpeted with something soft that had cushioned his steps and absorbed the sound of his shoes. On the pavement, he could feel his heels landing, and there was a constant "click, click, click" sound with each step.

The day was sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze, that Michael very quickly became aware of. The breeze would play with the lace on his skirts, making the skirt sway, and giving Michael the horrible feeling that at any minute the breeze would suddenly intensify and flip his skirts, revealing everything that he would not want revealed. Worse, the breeze would play around his legs, just where the long socks ended, sending sudden chills up his back.

Michael tried to ignore these, and concentrate on his walking. After a few minutes, it had got to the point where he could ignore all distractions, and it felt and sounded like he was walking properly. Trying to discretely look around him, Michael could not tell if he was attracting attention, at least, not the sort of attention that meant he was in trouble. People did seem to be seeing him more than they had before, but he wasn't sure if that was because of the way that he was dressed, or because he had never really paid attention to that sort of thing before.

After about 20 minutes of walking, Michael was beginning to regret not taking the bus. The shoes he was wearing were not as comfortable as his usual trainers, and he was starting to get tired. Trying to distract himself, he looked around. When he had travelled this route before, he had been on the bus and had not paid any attention to the route he was travelling. The street was pretty normal, apart from the occasional shop that appeared to be catering for sissies. "Sissies Pretties" had a window full of lingerie, the sort of stuff that Michael had only dreamed of - stockings, corsets, and the sheerest of nightgowns. It took Michael several moments to realise that he had stopped outside, and was starting at the content of the window.

The next shop was a shoe shop, and the window was full of high heels and bright colours. None of the shoes seemed the sort that someone could possibly wear. Centred in the display was a pair of knee high boots, with the most astonishing heel. Michael could not see how it would be possible to wear the boots, let alone walk. He looked closer. "Ballet boots, custom made by Mr Henry to your personal specifications. Book a fitting appointment now!!"

The word reminded Michael that he had a very discreet appointment ahead of him, and he turned away, but found that he was unable to get the image of the boots out of his mind. How could anyone walk in those boots? Why would anyone want to wear a pair like that? And yet,...

Turning away from the shop window, Michael could see the office building looming at the end of the street. Suddenly, the reality of what he was doing truly hit him. Here he was, dressed in a frilly pink dress, trying to sneak into the headquarters of an international company, and steal information. What was he thinking? What he found himself thinking was Mrs Ps mantra "If in doubt, check your makeup." Retrieving the small mirror from his handbag, Michael did precisely that. It was all fine, except for the lipstick. "There's none left? There's no way it could have gone, is there? Have I eaten it?" Feeling even more conspicuous, Michael reached into his handbag for the lipstick, and attempted to repair the damage. Working slowly, Michael managed to apply the lipstick in the appropriate places. He even thought that Mrs P might have approved of the result.

"This is it," thought Michael, "Do or die, now or never, piss or get off the pot." With this last thought, he strode towards the building. Hearing the difference in the noise from his skirts, he modified his walk to the correct step. As he approached, the doors sensed that there was someone there, and slid open, revealing the lobby.