On Display (A Shoe Obsession Erotic Short) by Marie Carnay

On Display
    A Shoe Obsession Erotic Short
    by Marie Carnay
     
     
     
    Copyright
    Copyright 2014 by Marie Carnay.
    Cover and Internal Design Copyright 2014 by
Marie Carnay.
    Cover Image Copyright Andril Muzyka, 2014.
Used under license from Shutterstock.com.
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means
including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews—without permission in writing from its author, Marie
Carnay.
    The characters and events portrayed in this
book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not
intended by the author.
    Smashwords Edition, License Notes :
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook
may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like
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    Table of
Contents
    Title
    Copyright
    About On Display
    Chapter One
    Chapter Two
    Chapter Three
    Chapter Four
    Author’s Note
     
     
     
    About On Display
    Story One in the Shoe Obsession Series
    The perfect boots lure her inside his store,
but his hands convince her to stay.
    Escape with Mandy and Dylan as they give in
to their passion and heat up a rain-soaked city night.
    A 6,500 word erotic short story in the Shoe Obsession series.
    WARNING: Due to explicit sexual content and
language, this story is intended for mature, adult readers who
enjoy erotic situations and imagery.
    ****
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and on her website at mariecarnay.com.
     
     
     
    Chapter
One
    Splash, splosh. Splash, splosh. Water oozed
and squished between Mandy’s toes with every step, seeping in the
loose stitching, sliding under the saturated suede. The footbeds
lapped up the water, greedy sponges sucking and slurping at the
rain until her flats were filled to bursting. She’d given up
dodging the puddles in the dark—a near collision with a fire
hydrant and a yappy dog dashed that strategy early on. So after her
feet turned prickly cold, she’d started trudging, kicking and
scuffing her way through divots and dips in the sidewalk as she
headed to the nearest subway entrance.
    I’m tramping through the rain, my toes are
frozen, and Brad is tucked into his car, all toasty and dry on his
drive home. My timing is impeccable. She inhaled a deep breath
of cold, wretched dampness, as she remembered his car: the leather
wrapping her in a cozy embrace, the window a tinted barrier
protecting her body and her shoes. Her irrevocably and undeniably
ruined shoes. A pang of loss hit her as she looked at the warping
suede, at the tassels curling from the water with every
splash-filled step. I worked overtime for a month to buy these
shoes. Next time, I should check the weather forecast before
breaking up with my only source of door-to-door transportation. She stomped at the thought, sending a spray of water in all
directions.
    Although Brad did work in the same
building—and drive every day—staying in a dead-end relationship for
access to a warm car ride seemed trite, even for Mandy. I should
treat myself to a rebound. Hit a bar, get smashed, and get Brad and
his car out of my system for good. As Mandy walked down the
sidewalk, fantasizing about the hot stranger she’d love to dry off
with, the intersection’s light turned and the little red hand
commanded her to stop.
    Glancing around, she spied awnings on the
nearest shop. Scampering across the