Is Four Inches Enough?

Four inches? Is that really enough to satisfy you? I've heard five is good, but for those a bit more selective, it's possible to get eight inches or even nine, if you're really so inclined...

Oh, wait...I'm talking about high heels. What did you think I was talking about?

But I'm not just talking about high heels. We're also talking about smooth flats in creamy colors. Platforms. Barely-there strappy sandals. Open-toed, no-nonsense pumps. No matter what the sexy shoe, you can bet there is a woman out there who wants it.

Me? Boots, baby. Boots.

My closet revels in boot ecstasy. I’ve got little fur-lined numbers with silver buckles. Flat-soled boots that rise only to the ankle. Regular old cowboy boots (my grandpa used to call those "shit-kickers" – hey, we lived on a farm, it was an apt phrase!). But my absolute favorite of all the favorites I could possibly have: Soft, black, thigh-high leather boots with a four-inch heel.

There’s something about those boots. Maybe it’s that tiny yet decisive click every time I put my heel down on the ground. Maybe it’s the fact that they make me almost five inches taller, which puts me at eye-level with most guys. Maybe it’s the way they cradle my ankles, or the way they make my legs feel strong, or how I have to pay attention to the way my body moves when I’m in them. Four inches of sudden height can throw you off balance, but with a ton of practice, those four inches can make you graceful.

I love leather that slips all the way up my leg, teases around my knee, and stops at an almost indiscrete place, high up on my thigh. I love the way those clicks announce my presence, like a whisper of invitation to any man who might be within earshot. I love wearing them with a longish skirt and watching others wonder – just how far up her leg do those naughty boots go?

I love the way they make my legs look miles long, make me stand up straighter, make my breasts and my ass look like they are so much more than they really are. I love the way they draw knowing glances from other women, and sometimes commiserating smiles. Work it, honey, they seem to say with that friendly wink. Work it hard.

Most of all, I love the way those boots make me feel: Slip them on, and I’m seductive hell on heels.

But that’s just the beginning. There’s so much more in my shoe closet of sinful delight. Those strappy sandals with the little gemstones in the middle...they are the perfect excuse for a good pedicure. That other pair wraps around my ankle, caressing me as I walk. Those white business pumps have a low heel but I can move at a faster pace, feeling sexy and efficient all at once.

A pair of good quality stockings feel sensual when paired with the those red heels. Wear them with a nice set of black stockings and all night long, I’m thinking about the way the fabric slips against the leather, the way it whispers on my skin. Perhaps I slip my foot out of them for a moment when I sit down, just to slip it slowly back in, to feel the curve of the shoe rise up to meet the arch of my foot. Perhaps I play with the strap, curling it around my toe, moving it around, until finally finding the proper fit and sliding it back home again.

It’s like sex with leather.

The moment when I step out of heels is a heady one, too. To free my foot from the confines of that heel, to feel the sudden drop in my height, to rest my toes on a texture so different from the shoe they were just cradled in, it’s all a bevy of sensation. My favorite private pleasure is to venture to the park, slip off my heels, and step onto crisp, green grass. Then I pick them up in my hand and let them dangle by a little strap as I take a walk. Sometimes the idea of putting them back on is as pleasurable as the walk.

Speaking of pleasure – you knew I had to get around to mentioning it, didn’t you? – there is the added bonus of knowing how crazy those heels can make a man. I wear them into the bedroom and watch him get all riled up while I’m still across the room. Want to see the biggest payoff of those stilettos? Slip your legs around him while he’s on top, press those heels ever-so-gently into his thrusting hips, and watch what happens. It’s enough to make me want to buy a dozen pair and then a dozen more.

Which brings me to the best part of all this: One pair is never enough. There are so many shoes out there, so many stores willing to let me try them on, so many I need to bring home! I can have shoes in every color, one pair to match every outfit – okay, maybe two pair per outfit. You never know what kind of mood I might be in that day, so it’s best to have a variety of choices, right?

What do you think? What’s your choice of the day?