Being that summer is just around the corner, I had to take advantage of the gorgeous weather that we’ve been having here. And what better way to enjoy the outdoors than to let loose at a shooting range? Of course I had to wear my fairly new Charles David brown alligator slingbacks while doing so. There’s nothing more empowering and arousing than being in a silky dress and stiletto heels, while playing with large powerful guns!
It was just my luck that the range was located in the rural countryside. So obviously my pumps were going to get quite dirty. To reach the shooting site I had to walk across the dusty unpaved dirt. The naked road was uneven and scattered with numerous pebbles, putting my shoes through much distress. Ever so frequently, my heel would step directly onto a stone causing my foot to twist and slip out from my slingbacks. I had to repeatedly stop, kneel down, and gently slide the strap back onto my foot. As I did so, I could feel the grime being trapped in between my foot and shoe. This made it rather troublesome to walk.
After putting on my earmuffs, I was ready to unleash the powerful firearm. I carefully ran my fingers across the barrel towards the scope. The rifle was cold, hard, and smooth. I stroked my hand against the curved edges and delighted in knowing how dangerous the gun could be. I wrapped my hand around and picked up the overwhelmingly heavy rifle but could barely hold it up with both hands. I was an amateur… a virgin who had never fired a weapon before. Eventually with the help of my friend, I was able to steady and position the gun against me. I planted my feet and pressed down on my heels. I closed one eye and focused the other through the scope at my target. Now, I was ready to fire. Slowly, I moved my finger and pulled the trigger. I heard a quite click and held my breath. With a loud bang and forceful jolt, I fired the rifle hitting my mark. The adrenaline rush was exhilarating and I wanted more…
I then moved on to another rifle and fired off some more rounds.
After we were done shooting, I was asked to help gather the hefty targets. It seemed like the other patrons enjoyed seeing me dirty my pretty shoes, so I courteously obliged, thinking that it would be a simple task. To my surprise, I had to haul the metal filled wagon uphill, through the rough dirt trail.
I bore my heels vigorously into the solid ground hoping to gain leverage and balance so I could pull the cart. But it was so heavy that I could not move it very far. I tried again and dug my heels down as hard as I could, wishing that it would puncture the soil to help me. Instead, as I dragged the wagon, my shoes scraped along the ground leaving streaks and grooves across the surface. I could feel my feet getting tired and dirty from the dust beneath me. Little pieces of gravel would flick up and get stuck in between my slingbacks and feet, making it painful to walk. I bit my lip and endured the discomfort. I was too tired to empty my shoe of all the dirt, so I continued on. With my last bit of strength, I brought the wagon to its destination. My legs and feet were exhausted. I was badly in need of a intense foot massage. I looked down at my poor pumps, only to see that they were covered in dust. You could clearly see the dirt lines across my shoe and settled in the textured alligator skin.
Not only were they dirtied, the tips of my shoes were left with creases, crinkled from the strenuous work I put them through while moving the cart.
The pebbles also caused dents all over the bottom my pumps.
I must emphasize that I have only worn these shoes a handful of time, and yet as you can see, after slight abuse, the tip of my heel is already coming loose.
It was a beautiful, well spent day. I could not wait to go home and relax. Shall I give my heels a hot oil massage as well?
