The Sins of the Fathers Ch. 22

He pulled the phone from the holster; it was an incoming video call from 'Just Jess'. He accepted. The phone sending the video stream was being moved around. "Can you hear us?"

Jack looked around, feeling dumb talking to a phone that was not at his ear, but he answered, "Uhh, yes."

"Can you see me?"

He glanced at the screen. Jessica's was inside what appeared to be a dressing room. "Yes." The wonders of modern technology. What a wonderful and marvelous age we live in!

The camera moved again. This time it backed away, panning downward. "Can you see us?"

It was now obvious that Jessica was naked. Kneeling at her feet was Destinee, equally naked and pulling a pair of red pantyhose up Jess's small frame. They were evidently crotchless with a built-in garter belt and tiny suspenders down the sides.

Jessica held the phone's camera down next to Destinee, so Jack could watch her adjusting the small suspenders against Jess's legs. The picture was wonderful; Destinee was kneeling directly in front of Jessica's naked sex. She reached up to adjust the waist of the garter belt. As she did so, her lips came into contact with Jess's pussy. Jack saw Destinee's throat move and he knew she was extending her tongue. Jack looked at the new phone like, Where have you been all my life?!

There was a distinct squeal from Jack's phone and from the dressing rooms in the back. Jessica had evidently dropped the phone she was holding. Judging from the video stream, it must have fallen at her feet. It was the perfect view, looking up from between Destinee's naked mons and spread legs, showing her breasts from below. Her mouth was clearly over Jessica's pussy. She was very obviously eating Jessica as she held her by the garter belt. Jack watched, fascinated as her jaw moved and her tongue extended opening Jess's sex and circling around her clit. He heard Jess moan over the phone.

It looked like, maybe, her hands were in Destinee's hair. At least, Jack was pretty sure she was holding her old roommate's head in her hands. Jessica was almost crying.

Twenty-minutes later, a disheveled Destinee walked out of the dressing rooms, running her fingers through her hair to fluff it a bit. She was flushed. She went directly to the register area, where she pulled out her small purse and took out some lipstick.

Jessica exited the dressing room. She purchased, one pair of red sheer suspender-pantyhose with a lace waist, one pair of red butterfly-embroidered bikini thongs, and one see-through red-lace bra.

Destinee took his card. "Thank you Mr. Grant. I hope you enjoyed your visit to 'Cheekie's'. We, that is ... I certainly enjoyed", she looked straight at Jessica, "having you."

"Señorita Chavez, Destinee, thank you for taking time with Jessica."

"It was a pleasure." She licked her lips. "Bring her back, anytime."

"I will."

She put her hand on his arm. "You do know that you don't have to wait out here. You could join her, or us, in a dressing room. If you wanted to, I mean."

He stepped in to Destinee, leaning in close to her ear. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." He had placed her hand on the erection she'd caused. "I don't think I'll be thinking of anything else for the next hour or so."

All her heard was a very Catholic, young Hispanic-American woman say, "Madre de Dios," and gently squeeze it before releasing him.

He looked at Jessica. "Wellheeled?"

She nodded.

"Is it far?"

"Across the Square, so no."

He spotted the storefront across the crowded square. They made their way through the groups of kids, families and tourists, finally entering the doors of a very low-key shoe emporium. There was a faint smell of leather. It kind of smelled like a Coach Store, only more expensive.

A man, just a little older than Jack, looked up from a small work-station in the rear and smiled. He walked towards them extending his arms. "Miss Jessica, it's been some time since you've graced my establishment with your presence. As always, I'm honored."

"Jack Grant, I'd like to introduce you to Thomas Philo Foote, of 'Wellheeled'. And, a childhood friend."

Mr. Foote extended his hand, "Mr. Grant, you bear on your arm one of the treasures of our city and one of its true, free spirits. And the young woman, who stole my heart the first time she ever sat down to try on a pair of shoes in this establishment."

Philo was in his mid-sixties and quite stylishly dressed. A small goatee and slightly balding, with a gleam in his eyes as he took in Jessica. He was fit and alert. Jack thought him oddly placed until he realized, So you're both the owner and operator of this business.

Jack looked about. Interesting, only women's shoes. And only fashion shoes: high heels, strapped-heeled models, very expensive sandals, and boots of all heights; but, nothing with a Vibram sole. No leisure wear, no sneakers, no tennis shoes, no cross-trainers, no flip-flops, and no household slippers.

"It's a very nice shoe store," Jack added.

Philo was gentle, "It's more than a simple shoe store. It is a temple, devoted to women. They're at best, a 'work in progress'. This shop ... " he continued, waving his hands to indicate the store space in it's entirety, "is more of a work-space for 'Transformations'. What these shape and protect isn't the foot; it's the inner woman. These aren't shoes; they're foot magic. Point a woman's feet to the right path in the right direction and the woman or girl will follow the road you have set her on. You can listen as she walks away to the footfalls of time, the gentle click of a high-heel walking away, or tapping in frustration, or stamped in disappointment. These ... " he waved his hand at the various shoes displayed, "walk us to our future or away from our pasts. When a woman puts her foot into a new shoe, she's stepping into a new her. If it's the right shoe, she's transformed."

"Philo, you are a philosopher," Jack responded. And, just maybe a bit of a bullshit artist. Oh, well! It is really good bullshit!

"No," Jessica corrected, "Philo's a romantic. For him, if the eyes are the windows of the soul, then the feet are the doors to something even more precious--our essence." She turned to the older man with obvious affection. "Philo, I need you to do that thing you do."

"Let's see, last time it was 'Childhood's End', the strapped white sandals with the high heels and the little flowers for church. And this time? What will the transformation be?"

"May I borrow your office?"

"Of course, Miss Jessica."

"Jack, my package, please."

Philo let her lead him back to the private office. He waited outside.

She stepped in, pulling the pantyhose from the envelope-sized package. She slipped them on. Stepping to where she expected a mirror to be, she was surprised to see a poster on the back of the closed door. You would only see the poster, if the door was closed.

She cracked the door open. "Philo can you step in for a second.

She took Philo by the arm and pulled him gently into his office. She simply pointed to the poster on the door. It was the Cyclon character called 'Number Six' from Battlestar Gallactica. She was standing facing the camera with her famous red dress on. The light, behind the dress, lit the shape of her sex clearly through the thin material. She wore red-leather strapped high heels, Prada.

She confided in Philo, "Jack is taking me to 'The Inferno'. It's time for 'The Woman in Red'."

Philo stared at her in disbelief, at the poster, then at the new red pantyhose. Twice, he swallowed hard and finally managed to get out, "I just might have something in your size, Miss Jessica. Would you go have a seat? I'll be right out."

Familiar with the rituals of 'Wellheeled', she casually strolled out and took a seat.

He started over to sit down next to her; but, she shooed him away. "No," she said, pointing him to the chair across from hers, so he'd be facing her. She sat with her legs crossed demurely, and they waited for Philo.

A minute or two later Philo Foote reappeared, toting two boxes. He carries them reverently, Jack mused, like a shaman with a holy text.

Like a priest, Philo knelt, laying the two boxes at her feet. He pushed an ornate shoe-stool, carved from a single piece of dark teak, over to them and sat down on it. The stool was old; it might have been ancient. At first, Jack thought the carvings were of elephants and jungle animals, like something out of Kipling's 'Jungle Book'; but, then various animal parts stood out, revealing more intimate and interesting subjects. The stool was like something you can only perceive with your peripheral vision. You think you see something, but when you look, it's gone. Was it really ever there?

The wooden carving on the stool was probably of Hindu origin and appeared to consist of intertwined men and women engaged in acts of sex. Odd in its artwork, it was erotic. But a person really had to look at it, to see it.

The more Jack focused on the erotic wood cuts, the harder it was to make them out. But, when he relaxed his eyes and morals, the stool came alive with sexual debauchery. The less he concentrated, the more there was. Damn! Now, that's a fucking interesting piece of furniture. Is it really carved like that or do I just have a dirty mind, capable of projecting my subconscious sex fantasies onto everything. Maybe this is what they mean by 'so horny you can't see straight'. The sperm is so backed-up, it's affecting my vision. Yeah, Jack, you're seeing sex everywhere!

I must be seeing it wrong! Jack closed his eyes and shook his head; and, sure enough, 'The Jungle Book' motif was back.

Jessica watched as Philo paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he was transformed. The shaman was in his element.

Reaching down, Philo took an ankle, lifted it up and uncrossed Jessica's legs. He slipped the simple sandal from her foot. He placed her foot on the angled step of the ancient shoe-stool. Her toes ended up against his crotch.

From where he was sitting, Jack couldn't see that; but, he did see, that once Philo lifted her ankle, Jessica was pretty much an open-book for Philo. He thought of an open Bible before a priest and smiled.

Philo lifted his eyes from the text, long enough to raise an eyebrow at Jessica. She wiggled her toes. He hardened. As he bent down to pick up a shoe from the boxes at her feet, he pushed against her foot. She felt him, just like she had one that first day ten years ago when her mom had brought her to buy a pair of heeled sandals for church. She'd sat where Jack Grant was sitting as Mr. Foote had fitted her.

Almost the same but, back then, her hose had been white and they had been pantyhose. Her toes had been innocent, when she'd walked in; not so innocent, when she walked out. She smiled, 'Childhood's End', indeed.

Philo Foote had been the subject of her next confession.

This was Philo Foote's world, a world in which the footstool was an altar. He had slipped a sandal, a high heel, a boot on every woman that entered his domain. Each was a unique incarnation of the goddess.

If anyone had asked, Philo would have sworn that he had never looked up a young woman's skirt in his entire life. He would have had to clarify it and add that many young women had revealed themselves to him at the altar. Like brides, some ritualistic unveiling took place when he knelt to take their ankles in his hands.

In a world without touch, Philo Foote's hand was the first caress many had ever felt.

For some, a very special few, Philo Foote was the first man to ever see who they really were. To see, the temple they had been taught to protect at all costs.

All they needed to do was wiggle their toes to find out how much power a priestess of the temple really wielded.

None of those special few ever forgot their first pair of shoes. Many had returned to bring their daughters to this shop for the purchase of their first pair of real shoes. Jessica's mom had brought her.

Philo slipped the red heel onto her foot. A shoe-horn was unnecessary. Indeed, there wasn't one in the entire store. He had always teased, "If the shoe doesn't fit, don't wear it."

She pushed gently against his cock with the toe of the shoe. He closed his eyes, for a brief second, till she released him. Gently, he took the red strap and fastened it. He lifted his hands as if to say, "Well?"

She turned her toe gently against him, opening her leg as though to look at her ankle. He looked at her sex. She was almost the same as she had been eight years ago. But she had pubic hair this time. He smiled, the proverbial 'landing strip'. Eight years ago, she'd had just a fine downy coating of light-blond peach fuzz. Now, the smoothe labia opened just a bit as she turned her leg slightly. And, the stockings framed her. She was not a young girl on the edge of womanhood; Miss Jessica was a young woman on the edge of ... what?

The answer made Philo smile, Wantonness.

She moved her ankle side-to-side as she examined her shoe. Jack watched her. He could see what she was doing, but he didn't know where her foot was exactly.

She smiled and nodded. Philo reached down and lifted her other foot, slipping off the sandal and placing her stockinged foot on the stool. She used it to stroke him, gently teasing his clearly-defined cock head with her big toe as he adjusted the second shoe. He took out a handkerchief and wiped imaginary dust from the shoe as he let her play. She slipped her toes under his shaft low and gently carefully lifted his balls. Philo Foote had a magnificent set of balls; they rolled across her toes as she wiggled her 'little piggies'.

Philo was in heaven. The ceremony is nearing its completion, and I am the shaman at the altar of the goddess.

He lifted her ankle, inserting her foot into the shoe. Setting it back down against his balls, he began adjusting the ankle-strap. She put the smallest amount of pressure, pushing down with the toe of her new shoe against his balls and trapping them against the shoe-stool's ledge.

Philo took a deep breath. She definitely hadn't done that ten years ago.

She felt them move, then lift. Then he looked up, as he closed the buckle. Was it a little pain? No, it was release that knitted his brow.

He put her foot back on the floor. He was perspiring. Even Jack noticed that, but Jessica knew why. "Try them out," Philo managed to say without his voice cracking.

She walked across the small store, stopping after she reached a full-length mirror. She watched herself move. Jack had watched her move; but, now was the first time he'd seen her in anything with a heel. She almost moved like a cat. Not a small cat or kitten, like one of the big cats.

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Mr. Foote?"

He moved up behind her. "Can you adjust my stockings? The little suspenders are showing."

Jack watched as Philo knelt down and reached up for the hem of Jessica's dress. He saw him grasp the top of the stockings, near a suspender. Philo smiled as he saw the small red bows at the bottom of each suspender. He reached up under her, taking the edge of the hose-top and pulling gently up.

She didn't look down. "Just a little higher, please."

He adjusted it again; this time, he felt the lips of her labia laying against the back of his hand. It was almost a kiss. The lips were hot. That meant the kiss was hot.

"Now the other one, if you would."

He reached under her dress again, this time letting her pussy-lips rest against the back of his hand. He left his hand in place. "High enough?"

"Yes, that's better; but, I think they may be twisted."

He smiled, taking his hands to gently adjust the red hose forward and back as her pussy lips painted a distinctly wet-kiss across the back of his hand.

"There, Miss Jessica."

"So, all I need to do now is click my new heels together three times and say, 'There's no place like home?'" she teased.

Unlike Jack, Philo was privy to her word-play. "Yes, Miss Jessica, if you want to end up in Kansas. However, if you want Deep Space, the stance is a little wider."

Jessica moved one foot, widening her stance. "Like this?"

He looked at her, standing in front of him. Kneeling as he was, her ass was at the perfect height. He saw the new heels, a great pair of legs; and, because the skirt was short, a pair of perfect labia open and displayed in silhouette, against her reflection in the mirror.

He sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly. When he opened them the ritual was complete.

She was a wanton.

Jessica turned in front of the mirror, bending down to kiss Philo Foote on his forehead. As she bent for the kiss, her skirt lifted a couple of inches displaying her open sex, smoothe labia, the red hose, the small bows, and the cheeks of a perfect ass.

Philo couldn't help himself, he looked into the mirror.

The goddess reveals herself!

Jack looked. Lord god, that skirt's short.

Jack sat next to Jessica as they rode the MAX back to Hillsboro. She was radiant. They switched to the Jeep and left Hillsboro, heading back towards the Oregon Coast. Somewhere just east of Sheridan, before they got to Deer Creek on the Salmon River Highway--Hwy 18, he swung the Jeep off the road and into the world's most improbably placed 'Dairy Queen'. Out in the middle of nowhere, not even close to a town, it owed its very existence to the many travelers headed to and from the Oregon Coast.

He bought her a swirl cone and waited as she licked it. Occasionally, she'd let him kiss the remnants of a lick from her lips. Once, she even let him lick the cone; but, he had to plead first.

He cleared his voice, so he could speak clearly. "I'd like to take you to dinner tonight." Her eyes lit up.

"No, before you answer, hear the rest." He cleared his throat again. "I think it's time you met my daughter."

Her eyes got bigger, then she squinted at him. "Nick? I already met 'him', remember?" Aren't I clever!

He laughed. "Hopefully not; I think Nicole will be quite enough to deal with in one evening." That might be a little bit of an understatement. Nicole is gonna be a handful tonight. "I'd like you two to meet. I can't keep waiting for her to be at Uncle Spencer's house to invite you over. And, I want to be able to have you over for more things than ... sex." Or, is it over for sex more often? More sex?

He wants me to come over more! Sweet!

"Okay!"

"No, there's more to the warning; I let Nikki know I wanted her to meet someone I was dating. She wasn't happy that I hadn't told her I was seeing someone." To say the least.

"You are trying to tell me it may get tense?" You're so cute. Especially when you try to protect me. A real gentleman!

"Yeah!"

"I'm a big girl, Jack. Remember? She's a kid. It'll be fun!"

"You sure?" Well, you better have a very interesting idea of fun.

"I'm good."

He hit the speed dial for Nikki. "Hey. We'll be there in about thirty minutes. Get ready, we're going to Gallucci's Pizza for diner."

They pulled up to the house; and, Jack went around to Jessica's door and let her out. She tried to reassure him, "Take a deep breath, Jack, all will be well."

He let them in and they found Nicole sitting on the couch in the living room. Her hair was up in the Tamriel-style again, with the two small braids hanging along her neck. She wore the little black dress her dad had brought her. And, she had the thigh-length boots on.

Green-eyed and innocent, she stood to shake Jessica's hand. "I'm Nikki!"

Jessica smiled, because Nicole/ 'Nick' didn't recognize her from the dark theatre. "It's nice to finally meet you, Nikki. I'm Jessica." Jesus, you were a cute boy; but, you're fucking gorgeous as a girl.