Jennifer sat in the coffee house, w

Jennifer sat in the coffee house, waiting. Her hands kept touching the cup in front of her or her hair - reflexively adjusting it, stealing glances at herself in the floor to ceiling window by her table. Men walked by with furtive glances. This was new. She got her share of attention – early thirties, slim, pale blue eyes, and shoulder length auburn hair just like she wore in her early twenties. But something was different in these looks, and not just in their frequency. She smiled to herself. She knew why. Her eyes traveled to her crossed legs and the knee high boots she wore. Soft black leather gleaming in the light. A long, pointy toe and stiletto 4" heels. Never had she worn anything like this before, usually adorning her feet in sensible, low heeled shoes. But she felt, finally, like herself in these boots. As if something dormant had come alive when she finally put them on. Something had come alive. A desire or, more precisely, desires.