The Crossing

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Downpours, streets and men do indeed mix.
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Deadwood
Deadwood
73 Followers

Amy Lynn Steele tried her best to hold the umbrella directly over her head as she walked through the downpour that had been battering the city all night. It was a valiant effort, but twice the heavy gale had folded her umbrella in half. Seeking refuge in the doorway of a deli, Amy fought with the contraption until she managed to get it back into its protective position. It now kept the rain from falling about her shoulders and ruining the make-up on her face, but her fumbling with it had cost her precious time and she was already late for work.

Rushing through the rain and the wind, Amy turned the corner on Broadway hoping to skirt an entire city block and ease into the delivery doorway of her office building. That plan was suddenly terminated when she looked across the back alley. Rain from several gutters and the sloped pavement of Broadway was dumping hundreds of gallons of water into the alleyway. While a storm drain on the East side of the street was swallowing up what it could, it clearly could not keep up with the flood.

For a moment Amy contemplated her next move. She certainly could hike up to the next cross street, and then back track to her office building, but she reasoned that would take another twenty minutes. Adding to her concern was the fact that streets flooded all over the city; there was no guarantee that Deidre Street was not flooded as well.

For a moment Amy sized up the deluge of water flowing across the pavement. It was not deep, only a few inches and while it was flowing with a pretty good, the water was clear. Looking down at her outfit, Amy concluded that except for her high heels, she was appropriately dressed for fording the small lake.

The hemline of her black skirt hovered just above the tops of her knees. Her black and white pinstriped blouse would not play into the equation at all, but the fact that she had chosen to dress for work without pantyhose certainly made her next decision easier. Putting one foot in front of the other, Amy gently toed her left shoe with her right and easily pulled her foot from the black leather pump. She cringed as she put her bare foot down on the cold, wet pavement, but the dampness did not stop her from doing likewise to her other shoe. Reaching down, she held the two shoes by the heels noting how the heat of her foot had warmed the leather ever so slightly.

This warmth was in contrast to the cold she felt as she began to ford the flooded street. As the water swirled and eddied around her tiny peds, Amy could see the blurry, distorted look of her bright red toe nail polish as she made first one step, then another across the rushing water. She wanted to run, to make the crossing as short as possible, but she feared running would make the water splash up and ruin her clothing and make-up. Instead she walked; an incredible slow walk it seemed as each foot rose out of the ankle deep water, then she felt the wind batter against her wet foot cruelly, only to plunge down again in the cold torrent of water. Amy was not sure which was worse, the cold water itself, or the wind slamming into her bare, wet feet.

Either way she took her time crossing the puddle. With each step she could feel the broken up pavement of the alleyway, the feeling of small rocks and even the feeling of some tuffs of grass that grew up in the cracks of the pavement. The latter she could feel with surprising detail, the feeling of slick, slender grass sliding under her bare feet, just as it had when she had been a child running across her back lawn.

As the memories overtook her, Amy made a mental note to go barefoot more often. She knew all to well that her feet had become tender now that she always wore shoes in the city. She needed to inoculate her feet to the feeling of pebbles, concrete and grass just like they had been when she was a child and ran barefoot and carefree out in the neighborhood.

A smile spread across her face just thinking about it, even though she knew as an adult she now looked foolish with water swirling up to her ankles. Making one last stride, Amy finished her wading and began to lean against a dumpster as she began to slip on her high heels.

"Wait", came a cry, "Don't put your shoes on yet."

Amy looked up to see a man dressed in a sweat suit yelling from across the flooded section of the street. As Amy watched in astonishment, the man began to wade through the water just as she had, but unlike her had not bothered to remove his shoes. Splashing water everywhere, he made a dash for her. As he neared her, he dropped the duffel bag he was carrying and began to open it.

"Don't ruin your shoes by putting your wet feet in them," he explained as he pulled a white towel from out of his bag. "Here," he said with a smile and as she held up her foot, he began to dry them off.

Amy felt euphoria as she placed her wet feet inside the soft, warm terry clothed towel as the man briskly rubbed them. His actions restored the circulation and Amy felt the kindness warm more than her feet as he did so. After slipping his towel from off her foot, he gently slipped her foot back into her shoe so she did not have to struggle with her balance in doing so.

"You didn't have to do that. I'm a big girl," she said with a smile.

"I know, but you would have had to walk around all day with wet shoes. You wouldn't want that, and I don't mind. Next," he said and watched as Amy smiled and switched feet.

As she did she noticed the white towel said Chelsea Gym in big black print. Amy never asked, but it was easy to assume that with his sweat suit and physique, he was a trainer at the gym. As her foot was rubbed back into warmth, Amy felt the man's gentle grip upon her ankle and enjoyed the tender way he twisted her high heel to get the shoe firmly seated upon her foot. "Well there you go Ms. You should be all set."

"Yes, thank you," she said and turned to walk towards her office building. As she did she thought about the tender affection he had given to her feet.

"If he was so gentle to those," she mused with a big grin, "then he would be gentle in everyway," she reasoned. Thinking about his profession, Amy spoke quietly to herself. "I really should work out more and lord knows I could use a good trainer." Then she paused and grinned from ear to ear. "Heck I could use a good man."

Deadwood
Deadwood
73 Followers
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