Boots and Knickers

My favorite project leader was back in the building today and came over to talk to me. I am lucky it was because I was asking her for something, because she has such an air about her that I am afraid I could deny her nothing.

And that is the case on any given day. Today she had on a pair of very sharply tailored grey wool knickers below which she had on a magnificent pair of boots.

This woman has no plain boots. Every pair I have ever seen her wear are stylish, unique, and overwhelmingly sexy. Today's pair was no exception.

Today she was wearing a pair of caramel brown boots that looked both soft yet were buffed to a glossy sheen that simply oozed the word "expensive." I bet they are as smooth as butter to the tongue. Along the back of these boots were laces that went from the top of the boot, right below her knee, all the way down the back of the five inch high wedge heel.

The laces were, of course, primarily decorative rather than functional, but they were not a cheap or addition. They may have has some elasticity to them because the boots fit her perfectly.

That was my eye full for the day. And she even granted my meager request. I was so entranced I found three excuses to go up to her floor in hopes of another glance. I was rewarded with two additional views, including a walking-away angle that showed the laces on the back of the boots to good effect.

Leopard Print Boots at Lunch

Walking around during my lunch time today I saw a great pair of boots.

A petite Asian woman was sitting down at a bench having a smoke. She was dressed all in black, with a sweater, skirt, and hose. But her boots stood out. They were an animal print with a light cream colored base with dark spots that were black at their centers.

They were very nice boots to start with. They had spike heels that helped for a nice clear arch and they fit her calves and ankles quite snug.

But the bright animal print pattern, when contrasted with her black outfit, made them stand out like a lightning bolt. The only thing I would have added were matching gloves. That would have been perfection.

The boots were so nice that I even violated my "no gawking" rule and stared at them quite openly. She noticed, of course, but clearly had no use for a tall Anglo staring at her footwear. She glanced up at my face then turned her head to exhale smoke with a slight sneer on her face.

Of course, the sneer just made the whole encounter that much better.

I myself have no use for smoking, but I would put up with some to get close to a pair of boots like that again.

Lock It Up

I suffer from... or rather, women I have known have suffered from... a number of very common male problems. One of they key ones is that, as soon as I ejaculate, my interest in sex, romance, women, and anything requiring any effort, goes out the window.

I am a typical male. Once I have shot my load, I will roll over and fall asleep.

Call me a pig. I know it is true. Men are commonly limited in their sexual stamina, despite boasts to the contrary. They do not have the advantage of being multi-orgasmic like many women.

There is an answer to this problem of course, don't let your man cum. Easier said than done of course.

A man who wants to cum will do anything to shoot his load. Even when well-meaning and eager to please you, if a guy feels the need, he'll get himself off. And if you think you can put him off, tease him a bit, then think again. He'll go off and masturbate to get himself off if need be. That will take the edge off of his passion and reduce a woman's hope for pleasure.

There is a solution to this. This male problem can be solved via enforced male chastity.

I will write about devices that I wear or have worn in the past, but rest assured, I speak from experience in this regard.

There are varying degrees of enforced male chastity, but the basic elements are a device that prevents male ejaculation (or arousal in some cases) and a way to secure said device so that the male in question cannot remove it without permission of the woman who has decided to take control of his sex life.

A lock with a key is the common method, though there are other ways, less secure but verifiable. Unless a woman is in a position of absolute authority to discipline the male, it is better to use a lock.

How long should you keep a man in such a device. Well, if you search the web, you can find all different answers. There are testimonials from women who say that a man should never be allowed to touch his own cock. They say that such an arrangement gives you total control, bonds a man completely to you, makes him your willing and pliant slave, because he knows all his worldly pleasure comes from you.

On the other end of the spectrum, there is short duration chastity, with which I am experienced.

Short term is usually a weekend for me. Locked up by my wife Friday before I head to work with the promise that I will be let free in time to head to work Monday morning. She isn't much of a dom, but she knows the power this gives her. She usually dangles the opportunity of early release as an incentive if I perform well.

I almost always win early release. By the time I get home on Friday night, the constant restraint of my cock having kept sex on my mind all day (not that I need much to do that) I am eager to please. And she is usually there, wearing boots, ready to be pleased.

She likes to start slow. We have dinner, I clean up and wash the dishes (I do that every night already) and then she will suggest that we relax and watch some television. Of course, she will have rubbed up against me over and over as I cleaned up, even inviting me to give her ass a little dry hump before telling me, "Maybe later."

We will watch TV. She will lay on the couch after I have sat down, resting her boots in my lap, nudging the restraint on the cock. After we are done, it will be time for me to strip and be ready while she puts on something more comfortable.

Usually she leaves the boots on and leads me back to the bedroom. She likes to have me start by fingering her. She enjoys my finger work and will usually ride out an orgasm on that before moving on.

Then the oral exercised begin. I bury my face between her thighs and go to work until I am told to stop. She admits to not liking oral all that much, but she does like making me do it because it is a good measure of my enthusiasm. Finally she will select a dildo and have me wear it in a harness and screw her through several positions until she is finally worn out.

Then it is time to sleep. She is tired. I take off her boots and put them away, rub her back for a little bit, then she goes to sleep.

Of course, I can't get to sleep. Not right away. I am as horny as can be. If I am lucky I can calm down in about an hour and fall asleep.

Saturday is about chores for her. Chores and back rubs and foot rubs and fetching things.

Saturday night she likes to rev me up a bit more, so she'll have me do some things that she knows will get me going. I might get to select the boots she will wear and I will certainly put them on her. Then she will have be kiss the boots, suck the spike heels, and generally indulge my fetish.

The she might tie me up and play with me, or give me a paddling, or have me lie face up on the bed and straddle my face and let me eat her while she grinds and moans on top of me. She will keep me focused on her while indulging me a little. Again I will bring her to orgasm again and again while my cock is held tight.

finally, if I have performed well, she will let me out and mount and ride me to climax. It usually does not take long. I have been on fire for two days and my cock is glazed in petroleum jelly used to keep things smooth in the device, so it can be a matter of sliding right in and shooting my load.

After that we both sleep quite well.

Of course, some times she keeps me in until Sunday morning for another round of fun for her. Once she even went until Sunday night. She has never kept me locked up until Monday morning. That is probably a good thing, as I would be a wreck at work.

So how eager am I after having been locked up and teased for a while?

I recall a cartoon I saw on the subject once that illustrates how eager to please men can be when locked up. It featured a woman lying on her stomach on a bed, looking over a list in her hand. He husband, his member locked up tight, is behind her, his face buried between her ass cheeks, obviously rimming her quite passionately. As she is looking at the list the woman is commenting, "Well, there is another item off your list of things you said you would never do. What is next?"

I would do that and more if my wife asked. In fact, one of my disappointments is that she won't demand more. I imagine her putting on the harness and screwing me with the strap on or just making me suck it clean after I have used it on her. I know I would gladly tongue ream her or do any number of things. In that state I am pliable in the extreme. I wish she would test my limits. Ah, such is life.

The Art of Namio Harukawa

Namio Harukawa is probably my favorite fetish artist.

The women in his art, with their full hips, round asses, shapely legs, and ample breasts, are something of a feminine ideal to me. They are proud and savage with their Gaia-like Earth-mother bodies that ooze sexuality. They are strong, solid women, with the proud stature of Goddesses.

I don't just love big butts, I love the full big package.

The men, by comparison, appear weak and scrawny. They are usually a head shorter than the women and obviously their inferiors in every way. Their cocks are rarely shown, and when they are, they are the subject of ridicule or abuse.

The role of men in Harukawa's art is that of object or toy solely for the enjoyment of the women. The men are usually restrained, often painfully so, and have their faces driven deeply between the thighs or cheeks of the Goddesses who reign in these scenes.

There are many pictures from his collection that cause me to fantasize about being the hapless male shown, fully at the mercy of a well rounded woman. When I think of his portfolio, certain images always spring to mind:

• a small man in a hospital, kneeling at the foot of his iron framed bed, wrists tied the foot bars, and a Goddess nurse, uniform skirt pulled up to reveal stockings and no panties, pressing her sex so forcefully into the mans face that you can see his arms stretched the maximum and the ropes digging deep into his skin.
• a man tied between two bar stools on his knees, face up to act as a seat for a plump Gaia who sits serenely sipping a drink at the bar.
• a man in a small wooden cage, his head sticking out of a trap door in the top, help in place by ropes around his neck as his booted Mistress begins to wrap her legs around his head to squeeze him into her pussy and force from him all the pleasure he can give.

I love these pictures. I see them and I want to be the man in them, helpless before a Goddess eager to take her pleasure without regard to me.

Not that I want to act out every scene he has drawn. There are a number of pictures that feature the women passing fecal matter straight from their anus into the open mouth of one of these men. That makes me gag in revulsion. Yet even as I gag, knowing I could never be part of such an act, or similar pictures where men's mouths are quite obviously being used as a substitute for toilet paper, I am fascinated by the women and their power. I still want to be the men, if not in these exact circumstances.

Urine also features in more than a few of his pictures, though I find this less revolting. There are some of those scenes where I still want to be the man shown, even acting as a helpless urinal for the mighty Goddesses. I sometimes think about what my limits really are, how far I would go for a dominant woman, a Mistress. I think I could manage that, I think I could cross that line if ordered. I wouldn't ask for it, but to please a Goddess, to show my obedience, to demonstrate the level of degradation to which I am willing to sink in the service of such a woman, I think I would be able to take the plunge.

I have a link here to his artwork. Do not open this at work. This contains explicit pictures featuring scenes such as I have described above.

Namio Harukawa

If you go there, I hope you find something that you like, or at least get a feeling for what I am trying to express. The site contains the work of a number of other fetish artists. While the site is in Italian, it is easy enough to navigate.

Dressing for Pleasure

Of course I knew the day would come. I secretly hoped the day would come.

After a year or so of going out with a woman nicknamed Slim, I knew she would turn the tables on me. She had threatened as much when we first started going out.

Slim. She was 14 years older than me, a woman in her late 30s. I was young, nubile, and eager to serve.

In general, I heartily approve of older women having younger boy toys. Somebody has to teach them. Slim was pretty good, but had too many other issues in her life for us to be long term. She could have owned me for the rest of her life if she wasn't more than a little messed up herself.

I met Slim at a friend's party. She was wearing a very low cut dress, dark blue sequins at the top over a black skirt, and was sitting down next to where I was standing. She caught me looking down the front of her dress. She said she sized me up right there, knew she could have me if she wanted me. She was, of course, right.

We started going out. A Dom/sub relationship, part time, was established. But I began to annoy her a bit. Being eager and young, I was always trying to run things from the bottom, especially when it came to her attire. I was like a broken record in those days, yet bad at communicating.

What I wanted to let her know was, here are the keys to the kingdom. If you're wearing boots and black stockings, I will fall over myself in obedience, lust will make me the most pliable toy you have, and my limits will fade.

What I said was "Are you going to wear your boots? I like when you wear a garter belt and stockings. I love high heels. I like it when you wear those leather gloves." On and on I went. I am sure I would have spent a lot more time gagged if she did not have better uses for my mouth.

So early on, when I was whining about what she should wear, she warned me that if I was so obsessed with women's clothes, maybe she would dress me up some time.

The thought both scared and thrilled me.

I had tried on women's apparel before. Nothing about dressing up as a woman thrilled me particularly. It isn't an activity I spent a lot of time with.

This threat came up a couple more times. Then one day we went shopping.

We did not go any place special. J.C. Penny's as I recall. There she bought a plain white garter belt, very utilitarian, with metal hardware and a pair of white stockings to go with it. She also bought panties and a satin cream colored camisole top.

She did not announce in advance that these items were for me. We were just going shopping. Slim was nearly 6' tall, so just a few inches shorter than I was, so buying items that fit me would nearly be the same as buying items that fit her.

When we got home though, I did find out what was up. I was told to strip in the bathroom, then come in the bedroom when she summoned me.

She left me waiting for a while. (There is nothing that builds up anxiety or worry in a slave like just waiting for something to happen. Never be in a hurry.) When she finally summoned me into the bedroom, arrayed on the bed were her new purchases. I thought she might be wearing them, but instead she had shucked off her jeans, put on a skirt and a pair of her boots, both black. She also had a riding crop in her hand.

She said, "You are always telling me how to dress, now I am going to let you experience it."

I was told to put everything on.

The white stockings had seams down the back. I did not notice this as I put them on, but she did. I was directed with the riding crop to keep them straight. I ended up taking the stockings off and putting them back on again after a few swats aimed at my awkward adjustments.

The stockings on, I fumbled with the garter belt. In this she had done me a favor. The big shiny metal hardware was easy for me to deal with. I was able to get the garter belt on and attached to the stockings almost right. One garter was twisted. The crop demanded correction. I redid the garter.

Then I pulled on the white panties. They were opaque and of a silky material, with lace about the waistband and leg holes. My hard cock bulged in them. Yes, I was excited by this. The panties soon betrayed the stain of anticipatory pre-cum.

Then the satin camisole went on. This was a bit small on me, which made it tough to get on without ripping it, and I dared not do that. The crop again encouraged me along, biting at my ass and thighs if I was slow.

Then I was dressed. She walked about, appraising my efforts. I was sloppy, awkward, and slow. I would need a lot of practice I was told. But I had done well enough to earn a reward.

A reward!

She brought out a box. In it was a pair of black patent pumps. They had 5" heels. They had locking straps that went around the ankles. They were in my size. "Put them on" she said.

I did, carefully sliding my feet into them. Before I could stand up she knelt, fastened the hasps on the ankle straps and padlocked them.

Now I had to walk around. I fell back on the bed on my first attempt to stand. The second attempt had me upright but wobbly. Then I was given walking lessons. The crop again lashed out as I was instructed in how I was to walk. Graceful steps, one foot in front of the other, move my hips, show her what a little slut I was.

She made me practice for well over an hour. After I began to get good, she sat down and just watched, relaxing as I strutted around at her command. She had me sit down and stand up again for a while. Then more walking. To this day I can walk in high heels without much effort. I get little or no practice, but that day of training still sticks with me.

Eventually I was deemed adequate, then told we were onto other activities. Off came the panties.

Back in the bedroom, my home made spreader bar came out. It was a 3' dowel with an eye screw in either end and another in the middle. Leather fleece lined cuffs were put on my wrists. I was told to lay in the center of our king sized bed.

The spreader bar was clipped onto the straps of the high heels. Another double clip help me wrists together at one end, then my wide spread legs were pulled up and clipped to the wrist cuffs with the other end of the clip. So I lay on the bed, wide spread legs in the air, ass exposed.

Then she began to finger my ass. She was applying lubricant to it. She inserted a finger, then two, loosening me up. She had done that before, done it so well as to prostate milk me unintentionally. This time though she wanted to use more than fingers.

A nice, new, blue vibrator came into play. Made for ass play I suppose, it was rippled. She turned it on and let it slowly loosen up my anus. She had found I had trouble relaxing myself for penetration, but a vibrator seemed to do the trick. With some patience, she had slowly slid the whole vibrator into me and began moving it in and out.

She was so gentle yet firm with my ass, I loved her for that. Later, another woman would try to penetrate me with a dildo by just cramming it in me with out any, what I will call, anal foreplay. I screamed. My ass ached for days. I'll put my ass up for use, but warm it up please before going nuts.

And, leaving the vibrator in my ass, she came up and kissed me, whispering in my ear in her husky, bedroom voice, "Who is my little slut?"

I was. I had felt awkward, self conscious, foolish, and embarrassed putting on the clothes, but now I felt awesome in them, horny, slutty, and being screwed in the ass by a beautiful Goddess.

"I am Mistress" I said softly.

"I know," she replied in barely a whisper, the proceeded to straddle my face to take her own pleasure from the situation. She always rode my face roughly. There was no need for me to do anything other than press against her. She wasn't interested in my mouth, except as a warm up. I might suck on her clit for a short bit, but once she got going she wanted to get herself off on every contour of my face. It could be brutal at times, like being alternatively punched, crushed, and smothered, with her thrusting and grinding herself on my face. I have never felt so used by a woman as when she used my face as her sex toy. And I have never felt so satisfied having myself used in any way. She did not hold back on expressing her pleasure when it was good for her.

Eventually she rolled off of me, my face slick with her juices. She lay there for a bit, breathing heavily at first then calming down. Finally she sat up to examine me, still legs in the air. She smiled and reached over to turn the vibrator up a notch. Pre-cum was dripping from me. She looked at my full hard on and said, "I'd like to ride that too, but I know you would last about a second and then I would have to beat you. I'm too tired now to beat you."

She sat up and ran a hand over me thighs and butt cheeks, appraising the redness, tracing especially interesting welts with a finger tip.

"I suppose you've had enough for today."

She picked up the panties I had been wearing from the bed, draped them over my cock, grabbed it firmly and stroked it about five times before I was shooting my load and moaning for her to let go.

I was instantly so much butter. She unlocked me and let me lay on the bed. The cuffs, bar, and shoes went on the floor. She cuddled up to me, kissing me, stroking me, and telling me what a good little slut I had been, for a first timer. Eventually we wanted to sleep. I removed her boots for her, always my job, and then she undressed and got into bed.

I started to try to get out of the camisole, but she stopped me with a word. "No! Clean yourself up a bit, but come to bed dressed as you are. You'll have better dreams."

I had sexy, wonderful dreams, I must admit. And in the morning, I wasn't just sore from her crop or her using me. My legs were sore from walking around in high heels for so long. But all of it was good soreness.

Now, years later, I dream about being used like that again. I still have the high heels. Who wants to see if I can still walk in them?

See what you've done Slim!

Cable Ties in the Lab

I was in the fourth floor lab earlier today and saw a package of black plastic cable ties.

Here is how big of a perv I am. The sight of those cable ties got me aroused.

I can just imagine being bound, wrists and ankles secured, with tight plastic biting into my skin. Like handcuffs, once those ties are on, you need help getting out. I see myself secured in the server room by a woman in boots, blindfolded and teased, not knowing what will happen. Will she let me go? Will she leave me here for somebody else to find? Why did I let her talk me into this... or why must I obey so well?

And these cable ties are black. Even better. Black is so wonderful.

Fetish in Text

While nothing beats reality, there is something to be said for the virtual. The virtual medium I prefer is text. 3D environments just cannot express what is really going on. Something like World of Warcraft is just a distraction and while something like SecondLife gets closer, (you can at least wear fetish garb) it is still more of a disappointing distraction than an enhancement to any scene.

I much prefer text. I played online text games for years, I am a reasonably accurate and speedy typist. and my imagination and vocabulary in close enough sync that I can express what I am doing, seeing, or feeling. I will take a text encounter any day of the week and twice on Sunday. you can express yourself, try things you might never do in real life, and save it all in a file and re-read it again later.

What kind of text?

Email: I have exchanged many erotic scene mails with people. They have included collaborative stories, writing assignments giving by (and graded by) exacting Mistresses, and fantasies thrown out just to start things going. Email has the advantage of allowing time to think and structure a story or a response. You can also assign tasks to be done and reported on. The downside is the time lag between replies while the person on the other side crafts their response (or goes on with real life).

Instant Message: This has the immediacy of two (or more) people in contact. There is somebody live at the other end typing back to you. Your interaction is immediate, subject to the typing abilities of both sides. This can be quite exciting. I have had many wonderful IM exchanges. Sometimes I just have a scene in text, sometimes I have been given small tasks during the chat. (Go to the supply closet, get a small binder clip, put it on your left nipple and leave it there until I tell you otherwise.) Upside to this are being live and immediate with another person. The downsides can be the text environment itself (distinguishing actions from the spoken), any large mismatch in typing speed, accuracy, or style ("I lower my head to your delicate, porcelain toned foot, kissing each toe gently, then taking each toe in my mouth successively, from big toe to pinky, sucking on each" "cum on sux it mak me wants it")

Special Environments: There are online text environments designed to accommodate online encounters. I personally favor one called the "Isle of Shadows." Such an online site is built to give depth to and reality to a text encounter. You can find rooms and equipment that gives the feel of really being in, say, a dungeon. There are "devices" with "controls" to use on your partner, restraints, attire, and a series of things that add a lot of flavor to a text encounter. Upsides are the extra feel you get from such an environment. The downside is that there is some learning curve to be able to use the environment. Having played text games and being into computers, I can jump in pretty easily, but it can be intimidating to many people. This a mitigated somewhat by the fact that such sites generally have friendly users who are generally happy to help new users. There is also the problem of having to use a terminal program to get into these environments. You can just go to a command prompt at type "telnet isleofshadows.net:4510" to get in, but if you want to really work with text, you will want something better.

I play, virtually, in all three environments. I will gladly entertain any questions in/on the first two, but I would like to encourage people to try number three. People playing in detailed text environment is a shrinking population. This is a real shame, because there is no real replacement for such environments.

Fetish Transference

Boots are, of course, my primary driving fetish. I adore women wearing boots. A woman in boots can make me do most anything under the right circumstances.

But boots alone do not the pervert make... not this one, anyway.

If you have been reading along from the beginning, you know that somewhere along the line the connection was made for me between the desire to serve a woman in boots and BDSM, with me in the submissive, slave, or bottom role.

Of course, introduction to this scene opened a vista of new fetishes. So did growing up in California, where women just don't wear boots most of the year. Unless you are in San Francisco, it is just to warm much of the time. (Bless our freezing cold winter this year!)

So here are a few other things that can hold my attention, some of them in a close to boot-like manner.

• High Heels - In a land with no boots, I could probably get by, for a while, if there were still black, spike heeled pumps. I am not much on funky styles, platforms, sandals, and other styles, though there are fine examples of each out there. It is the classic black pump with a spike heel that draw me. Every woman should have a good pair of high heeled black pumps. Hell, I own a pair in my size, but that is a story for another time! Black pumps with black stockings... I can worship that. I have a very fond memory of one woman wearing black pumps being dissatisfied with my enthusiasm at licking one of her shoes putting her other high heel shod foot on the back of my head and pressing my face down hard into the first.
  
• Garter Belts and Stockings - I love the feel of stockings on a woman's leg. I love the way garters frame a woman's sex and follow the curve of her ass. Pantyhose is fine for the texture, but stockings and a garter belt can be a thing of beauty. I favor the heavy, industrial looking garter belts, with shiny metal hardware and smooth satin lines. Frilly little lace numbers don't move me as much. And a garter belt with more than two garters per leg... I adore those.
  
• Gloves - A girlfriend once told me, when I bought her a pair of gloves, that I just wanted her to wear boots on her hands as well. Not a ban analogy. Gloves in black leather are my favorite, though the long satin kind are good as well. Having purchased a pair of opera length black leather gloves for a woman, I can say that the satin variety are also much easier to find and much less expensive. On the other hand, those leather gloves were magnificent.
  
• Leather - Leather skirts, leather pants, leather tops, even a good leather coat can be nice. The smell and the texture of leather is wonderful. And the taste. We cannot forget that taste!
  
• Bondage Equipment - Not things you see every day, but I love restraints. The exotic items, like arm binders, hoods, gags, and the like thrill me. (I've never worn a leather hood. I really want to some day.) Even more mundane things like collars, cuffs, and blindfolds are quite exciting. And then there are those "good for one specific" that you only even see in catalogs or at places like Leather Masters. And don't even get me started on equestrian gear. I want to be transformed into a leather clad pony, complete with hooves locked on to hands and feet.
  
• Corsets - I have never seen one in person on a woman, but I like them in pictures. I would like to see a woman in a tightly laced leather corset some day... or be laced up in one myself.
  

There are other items I am sure, I just cannot think of any at the moment. If you are looking for something to comment on in this blog, you can add something that you have a fetish for and I'll see if it works for me as well!

Tweed Boots

I work in a small, downtown-like area. This means I can walk to a variety of places for lunch.

It also means I get to watch a lot of other people walk to lunch. So, unlike your typical business park, I get to see quite a few attractive, well dressed women walk by. And, since it is winter, attractive, well dressed women are favoring boots currently.

So I like going out for lunch. The view can be wonderful for somebody with a fetish like mine.

Today, as I was walking back to the office, I saw about a block ahead of me a woman wearing what appeared to be a pair of grey, knee high boots. My keen eye could discern laces at the top, even from that distance, so I knew I had to go in for a closer look. I like boots that lace up.

Fortunately, traffic lights, my own natural quick pace (tall guy with a long stride here), and her own slow progress let me catch up with her. We stood next to each other waiting for the light at one intersection where I got to take a good long look at her boots.

What I initially thought might be a grey leather turned out to be a black and white tweed material. The front of the boots were faced with black leather they were laced up through traditional holes, as opposed to speed lacers. The toes were also capped in black leather that tapered back along the sole of the boot to about the mid point of the arch.

The effect was strange, but not completely displeasing. One of the reasons I like real lace up boots is that they form to the shape of a woman's leg, accentuating thin ankles and showing the pleasing curve of her calf. These boots won in that regard. The black leather accent was little odd though, but it at least would give a submissive like myself a place to lay lips and tongue in worship. I am not sure tweed would give the same effect. Not that I would say no. I would stroke that tweed with my tongue until it shone if commanded.

The young woman in the tweed boots went into a shop half a block later and I kept on walking, reflecting on that interesting boot sighting.

And then, just before my own building, I got to see a pair of gorgeous suede boots. They were a dark rust color, with high, thick heels, and a tall shaft that ran up and just over the knee. They were worn by a woman of some height, so the boots themselves were quite tall.

I did not get to linger and spy on those boots however. It was back to work for me.