Panties for Sale (39 page)

Oh!
 
The great old
lady was furious.
 
She locked the young
girl in her room and forbade her to never ever put the shoes on again.
 
And the red shoes were hidden away where the
young girl would never find them.

And so, for a long time after that, everything was
quiet.
 
The young girl was polite and
obedient.
 
She did her studies. And said
please and thank you.
 
She acted like a
proper young lady.
 
But, she never
stopped thinking about her red shoes.
 

And of course, one day, the young girl found her
shoes.
 
They were hidden on the top shelf
of the largest cabinet in the darkest closet in a locked black box.
 
When the young girl finally broke the lock,
she couldn’t put the shiny red shoes on fast enough.
 
Oh, they were so beautiful!
 
She lifted her skirts and smiled as she
looked down at them on her feet.
 
Then
she took one step.
 
Then another.
 
Then a twirl.
 
Then another.
 
And then another.
 
She didn’t even realize she was in trouble
again until she tried to stop.
 
But of
course, she couldn’t.
 
The shoes wouldn’t
let her stop.
 
They twirled her out the
door and down the street.
 
They twirled
her around the church and out into the field.
 
They twirled her past the farmer and past the church ladies.
 
They twirled her right to that whistling old
man who was standing by a tree.
 
He
laughed at the girl.
 
“Oh you silly
girl,” he shouted.
 

“No, please,” the girl cried. “Help! Stop them!”
 
But it was too late. The shoes wouldn’t let
her stop.
 
They kept twirling her and
twirling her.
 
For days and nights the
shoes twirled the girl on and on.
 
She
was exhausted.
 
Finally she came to a
small house in a forest.
 
“Please,” she
called out as she twirled around the house.
 
“Please help me.’’

The whistling old man came out of the door.
 
It was his house. “Yes?”

“Please help,” she cried.
 
“I am going to die.
 
Cut these
shoes off my feet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” she wailed. And so the old man picked up his
ax and he sliced the bows off the shoes.
 
But the shoes didn’t fall off.
 
They were stuck on to the soles of the poor girl’s feet.
 
“I don’t care,” the girl sobbed.
 
“Cut off my feet.
 
I will die if these shoes don’t come
off.
 
My life is not worth living with
them on.’”

“Are you sure?” the old man asked again.

“Yes, yes, please hurry before they dance me away
forever.”
 
And so the old man lifted up
his ax and chopped off the young girl’s feet.
 
The young girl screamed and then fainted.
 
And the red shoes with her feet still in them
twirled away through the forest leaving a trail of bright red blood.

“What happened to the young girl?” Angela had asked.

“Oh, she lived,” the man had shrugged, “but she became a
beggar girl along the road.
 
Living hand
to mouth by the kindness of strangers.

“Why the hell would you tell me that story?”
 

“Because,” the man had laughed, “don’t you see?
 
Angela, you are the girl.
 
And this, this thing between us, sex?
 
It is our red shoes.”
 

Angela laughed. “So, you are the dirty old man that lifts
up my skirts?
 
You think you are so
wonderful that all you have to do is whistle and I will dance for you?”
 

“Perhaps, Perhaps.” The man lit another cigarette, “but
perhaps I am the old lady.
 
Who burns the
red shoes you made all by yourself.
 
Just
like I burn your heart.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Angela laughed
uneasily.

“Oh, Angela,” he sighed. “I see it.
 
I know it is in your eyes.
 
But, it will not work.
 
It cannot. I can’t love you.
 
I wish I could.
 
But I already paid for you.
 
And for others before you.
 
And after you.
 
No, I can’t love you.
 
To me, you are just a hollow copy of a girl I
would like to love.
  
Like the shiny red
shoes made by somebody else.
 
And,” he
laughed, “You don’t satisfy me.
 
Don’t
get me wrong.
 
This satisfies me.”
 
He traced the outline of Angela’s body with
his fingers.
 
“Oh damn, does it satisfy
me.
 
But just my body, just for a few
hours.
 
It doesn’t satisfy my soul.
 
Perhaps I am like the young girl.
 
I need to find my red shoes.
 
This, this sex we have, actually, it just
makes it worse.
 
Like the red shoes made
by someone else.
 
Little by little it is
killing my soul.
 
It makes me more
desperate.
 
I have to have you again and
again.
 
The thoughts I have about
you.
 
You would be shocked.
 
I force myself not to think these thoughts.
 
But they come.
 
I want to get violent.
 
I want to watch you with other women.
 
With other men.
 
I want to humiliate you and dominate you.
 
Because I’ve already bought you.
 
Can’t you see?
 
Oh, Angela.
 
Why can’t you see? Angela?”
 

“Angela?” Dora yelled through the bathroom door.
 
“Sorry to bother you, but Alex is on the
phone.
 
She said it was important.
 
She wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, ok” Angela opened her eyes.
 
She shook her head and looked around the
bathroom. “Randolph,” she muttered “That was his name.
 
Yes, Randy Strausberg.”
 
She stood up and wrapped herself in her long
warm bathrobe.
  
What the hell had made
me think of him?
 
After all these
years?
 
She shook her head and
laughed.
 
God, he was full of
bullshit.
 

“That was delicious.
 
Thank you my darling,” Joseph kissed Alex on the cheek and slowly got up
from the dinner table.
 
She watched him
as he grabbed the Toronto Star and settled himself down on the sofa then picked
up her own glass and followed him.
 
As
she took a sip of her Perrier, she leaned back and breathed in that ‘fresh from
the showroom’ smell.
 
Joseph had really
done a great job, she thought admiring their new apartment.
 
She loved the way the creamy eggshell walls
contrasted with the dark richness of the leather furnishings, and the gold
velvet curtains and pillows. Very Nate Berkus.
 
Oprah would approve.

A glorious sunset was just disappearing over the trees of
Rosedale.
 
What a difference from my
small bachelor apartment on Isabella, Alex thought looking out the window.
 
Her only concern now was to make sure Joseph
was happy.
  
And she was doing her
best.
 

When Alex had moved in, she had been astounded at the
detail Joseph had paid to the kitchen.
 
He had replaced all the standard appliances with gorgeous stainless
steel deluxe models.
 
She now had a
double oven, a stove top grill, a huge fridge with freezer, a dish washer, a
garbage dispenser, a food processor, a blender, a juice machine, a cappuccino
and coffee machine, a fully stocked spice rack, a deluxe set of knifes, a full
set of pots and pans, a wok, and gleaming white china; all organized and stored
away in the crisp white cupboards.
 
Alex
decided, since she had all this newfound free time anyways, it was time for her
to learn to cook.
 
Not just vegetable
stir fries, chocolate chip cookies and Amy’s organic pizzas, but real chef-like
gourmet meals.
 

There was a trendy little cookbook shop just down on Yonge
Street.
 
It was just the inspiration she
needed.
 
The store owner, Leon was a
little wild.
  
He made Alex laugh and he
made a killer cappuccino.
  
She found
herself going into his little shop almost every day.
 
It was nice to have someone in the
neighbourhood to talk to; you know just about the weather, or her new
apartment, or her kitchen.
 
Alex knew it
was cliché.
 
‘Kept woman hanging out in
the cookbook store.’
  
But she kind of
liked it.

Alex had spent her whole afternoon preparing tonight’s
dinner, closely following a recipe Leon had selected for her.
 
She had made potato croquetas with saffron,
porcini and celery salad, roast chicken stuffed with fennel and garlic, creamy
stone ground grits and spiced madeleines for dessert.
 
And, it had turned out perfectly, well
almost. The first batch of burnt madeleines were hiding in the garbage bin, but
she was still proud of herself.
 
It did
seem more satisfying than sitting around watching soap operas all afternoon -
and she had to admit, way more relaxing than getting all dolled up and stressed
out for a 2:00 appointment with a man she hadn’t met yet.
 
God, Alex sighed. What had she been thinking?

The perfect Catch 22.
 
If Alex hadn’t been an escort, she would have never met Joseph.
 
And then she wouldn’t be sitting here in her
new apartment, sipping her Perrier, thinking of what her and her gorgeous man
would be doing later.
 
Alex sighed and
looked around for the remote to turn on the TV.
 
She really should go and organize her closet.
 
Most of her clothes were still strewn around
her walk-in closet in ‘organized piles’.
 
Maybe she’d do it tomorrow.
 
Plus,
she needed more hangers.
 
She only had
six of the nice wood ones and it was such a nice apartment, she should have
nice matching hangers, right?
 

“You are such a girl,” Joseph had laughed when she tried to
explain this to him. That and why she needed a small U-Haul trailer to carry
her clothes and shoe collection to the new apartment. “Lucky for you,” he
kissed her nose, “you are a very beautiful girl.”
 

Alex flicked off the TV.
 
Nothing interesting was on.
 
She
knew Joseph had his eyes closed behind the paper he was pretending to
read.
 
So, she grabbed her phone and went
into the other room to check her messages.
 

“Hello? Elixia.
 
It’s
your mother.
 
Your father and I are
excited to meet this new man in your life.
 
How is the job search going?
 
Oh,
you will love Mary and Frank’s new house.
 
We just had a bbq there tonight!
 
It’s so nice.
 
Ok, call me back
when you get this message.”

“Elixia.
 
I don’t
know if you have checked your messages, but um, this is your mother.
 
Call me back.”

“Elixia.
 
This is
your mother.
 
Are you angry at me?
 
Why are you not calling me back?
 
I just, well, I hope everything is ok?”

“Elixia. Well. I don’t know what to say.
 
This is your mother.
 
Again.
 
Are you even still alive?”

Alex sighed and pressed 7 to delete all her messages.
 
Then she
dialed Chieko’s number and listened as it rang. “Oh, Chieko?” she said
after the beep.
 
“Hello.
 
It’s me, Alex.
 
I thought I might catch you tonight.
 
I’ve been trying to reach you.
 
Did you get my messages?
 
You must be very busy.
 
Well, if you have time, can you call me
back?
 
I was hoping we could meet for
lunch or something this week?
 
I hope
everything is ok?
 
I have some exciting
news for you, but I’ll tell you when I see you.
 
Ok.
 
Talk to you soon.”
 
Alex sighed as she hung up the phone.
 
That was the third message she had left
Chieko.
 
Chieko didn’t even know she had
quit.
 
Well, at least Alex hadn’t been
able to tell her.
 
And she wanted
to.
 
Alex wanted to explain the whole
situation to Chieko.
 

The kettle started to scream and Alex hurried to catch it
before it woke Joseph.
 
As she poured
herself a cup of hot water with lemon, a deep voice called out from the living
room.
 
“I’ll have one too.”
 
Why does he always seem to know what I am
doing?
 
Alex smiled and made Joseph a
mint tea, then carried both cups out into the living room.

“Thank you darling,” Joseph put the paper down and took the
hot tea from Alex. “You know, Alexandria,” Joseph watched as she slowly curled
up beside him without spilling any of her hot water, “I know you have a fine,
fine body.”
 

“Why thank you,” Alex laughed.

“I have never seen it in a bathing suit.
 
What do you wear, one piece or two?”
 

“That’s a strange question.
 
Both,”

“How?” Joseph’s eyes were twinkling.

Alex shook her head as if it was obvious, “One piece when I
swim laps at the pool, and a bikini for the beach.”
 

“What color?”

“Both are black”

“Ah,” Joseph sipped his tea. “Beautiful, beautiful.”

“Why?
 

“Because we are going to the beach.”
 

“We are?”
 

“Yes, I have to go to Italy, and you are coming with
me.
 
We can swim in the Mediterranean and
make love under the stars.
 
And I can sit
and watch your beautiful body as you walk along the beach.”
 

“Really?” Alex laughed at the way Joseph made everything
sound so exotically romantic. “When?”

“Next week.”

“Why so soon?”
 

“I have some important business to do and want you to
come.”
 

“Seriously?
 
That
would be awesome!
 
Are we going to go to
Tunisia too?”

“No,” Joseph shook his head, “Why would we go there?”

“Well,” Alex answered, “it’s just that we will be so close,
and you are always talking about your family, and I would love to see where you
are from.”
 

“No,” Joseph snapped.

“Alright,” Alex shrugged, “It’s no big deal.
 
If you don’t want to, but it doesn’t make
sense.”

 
“Yes, it does,”
Joseph raised his voice, “it makes perfect sense.
 
We are not going to Tunisia.
 
I thought you would be happy to go to Italy.
 
Why do you always ask for so much?
 
Why can’t you just be happy with what I
offer?”
 

“Whoa,” Alex was shocked, “what is the matter?
 
I don’t care if we go to Italy or Tunisia.
 
I was just trying to support you.
 
I know how much you care for your family.”

“You don’t know anything,” Joseph shouted.
 
He banged his cup down on the table and
stormed out of the apartment.