Brushed

Piper Lawson loved walking through SOHO when it rained because it reminded her of the girl she used to be before she became the women who took the kids to soccer practice, prepared lunches, or tried to stay awake for PTA meetings. Back when she used to walk these same blocks in her young 20s, she was an art student at Parsons and Manhattan was the source of her inspiration.

While she loved her children and the security of her home in Long Island, any amount of excitement or passion that may have existed in her marriage had evaporated with the weight of responsibilities and obligations. Her husband used to bring her little gifts and write sweet notes he left for her, but now he spent long nights at the office and was away so much on business she hardly knew what kind of life he was living away from her, and for sure didn’t remember the last time he existed fully inside of her.

She fell in love with the man who used to run his tongue over the sweet spots between her legs, but that man didn’t have the time or patience to perform such acts anymore.

These days, most everything revolved around the kids – and though the love she received from them was more than enough to fulfill her soul, it had been a long time since she was satisfied in places that touched beyond description. Today though, on this rainy day in SOHO, she was transported back to the emotions and wonders she had during her student days. 

Piper was there because she was remodeling her kitchen and found a reasonably priced painter online who fit within her budget. It would have been just as easy to pick out the colors she wanted online and book a time for the painter to come do the work, but she always jumped on any excuse to venture into the city. Her city. She walked the cobblestone streets in her sensible shoes – the same kind you see on the covers of those cheesy easy to read beach books that people devoured to feel just average. It’s a dangerous thing to live an average life, and Piper felt herself drowning in it.

She was out of place and out of fashion even in what were now her best shoes, and decided that she needed to treat herself to something special. After all, moms spend most of their lives doing things for others, so she needed to shower herself with a little pleasure. A small boutique shop seemed to be calling her inside. They didn’t have shops like this in the ‘burbs, and her feet didn’t deserve to be wanting. She strolled slowly into the shop, and looked casually at all the shoes she’d only been able to see in magazines and online. It just wasn’t the same as seeing things in person – that direct connection between you and the material is one that can’t be duplicated in virtual reality. A young girl smiled from behind the register as Piper browsed the shoes, stealing glances at the rain falling on the stones outside the store.

Piper stopped on a pair of Miu Miu ray embossed calf leather platform sandals. It’s amazing how the feeling of seeing something that should be yours stimulates the same erogenous zones that the right kind of touch from a man can bring. She had to have them, but the quick impulse was attempting to be pushed down by the voice of reason. The young salesgirl stepped out from behind the register and into the middle of Piper’s internal debate with herself.

“Those are amazing, right?” the salesgirl said. “Feel the leather on the soles – it’s just so sublime. Want to try them on?”

“I’m not sure I should,” she said, rubbing her finger over the tiny strap that would wrap around her ankle.

“Sometimes it’s not about what you should be doing,” the salesgirl said. “You need to indulge in your wants. How else are you going to be happy in this world? When was the last time you did something just for yourself? Me, I make sure I get mine before someone else takes it from me.”

Piper looked at the salesgirl’s eyes – at the newness to the world that hadn’t darkened them yet. She felt herself come alive with energy, and sat down to try the shoes on. As she took off her old, practical shoes, and slid on the platform sandals,  her feet sent sensations up her legs, through her thighs, and directly towards her womanhood. It’s a known fact that most of the nerves and pleasure points in connection with the human body exist in the feet, so there’s no surprise that putting on a pair of perfectly crafted shoes should stimulate the areas most men had trouble even knowing about. The heels were about 4 inches. She stood up and felt a jolt of ecstasy move straight to her spine and through parts of her body she hadn’t felt in years. Looking at her calves in the mirror, she just loved how the pink leather soles felt. Nobody would ever see them when she walked, but knowing they were there was enough for her to enjoy. Most pleasures, deep pleasures, can’t be seen by the naked eye.

She took a stroll through the store and felt her backside swing, which stimulated her between her legs. The right kind of shoes felt like there were soft hands rubbing you in all the right places with each step. When was the last time her husband took the time to touch her like that?

“How much?” Piper asked, bracing for the worst.

“Well,” the girl said, leaning over to make sure nobody was listening. “The store price is $710.00, but if you have cash to pay, I could let you walk out with them for $300. Just, you know, it’ll be between us girls.”

Piper loved being called a girl, and the shoes made her fall even deeper into her reflections of youth. She reached into her wallet and pulled out most of the cash she had reserved for the down payment the painter had requested, and told herself she’d figure out how to take care of those practical matters later. There was no way she was going to let go of the feeling these shoes gave her.

“What do you want me to do with your old shoes?” the girl asked, casually pocketing the money.

“Burn ‘em,” Piper beamed. “We were never that close anyway.”

With that, she sauntered out to the street with her new shoes, holding her umbrella and letting it twirl while the sounds of her heels clicking against the cobblestone mixed with the raindrops that fell all around her.

The painter’s studio was on Mercer Street, so she headed down Houston and stopped in the Aroma café to have a cappuccino and sit on the silver chair that faced the   window, exposing her legs and looking to draw stares from the men walking by. After all, she felt sexy and desirable for the first time in ages with her new babies on her feet. Feeling aroused, Piper took out her phone and called up her husband.

“Frank,” she said. “I’m in the city at the Aroma café.”

“What,” he said, sounding pre-occupied. “Is everything okay? What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything baby,” she said in a trying-to-be-sexy voice that matched her shoes. “Why don’t you take the day off, come meet me in the city, and do whatever you feel like to me. It would be fun if you just found me and pretended not to know me.”

“You know I’m in the middle of prepping for a big presentation here,” he said coldly. “You want to play around in the city, good. Go see a movie and treat yourself to something nice. I don’t have time to play games, Piper. Really. Do you need anything else?”

“No, not from you, no” she said, realizing then that the man she married may not have been the man she married. “I’ll see you tonight when I’m done with the painter.”

“Good,” he said. “We need to get that kitchen done before my parents come to stay with us for the holidays. You don’t want to be cooking in a half done kitchen, do you? Way to stay on track, Piper. That’s my girl.”

A man walked by and couldn’t help but looking up Piper’s skirt through the glass of the front of the café. She smiled at him then turned away.

“No,” she said to her husband. “We wouldn’t want that. See you at home. I love you.”

“See you later,” he said. “You should take care of dinner for the kids. I’ll grab something at the office.”

He hung up the phone without saying I love you. It wasn’t crushing to Piper, because she already knew that the steam and passion were gone when she had the second child. At least she could still draw the looks from men passing by wondering what was going on under her skirt. She looked down at her shoes and enjoyed the way they hugged her feet, then snuck a look at the pink soles, and decided she needed that motion on her legs again, so she finished her cappuccino and headed back onto the cobblestones, where the rain had let up and the sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, exposing the colors of her favorite part of town.

She walked halfway down Mercer Street, smiling at the secret pleasure when the muscles and points that got touched by wearing such a high heel, until she reached the address she had been looking for. There was no sign on the front of the building, only names on the apartment buzzers. She pushed the one that read
Finn Maddox Paint Supplies
. A voice came over the speaker and said
“
4
th
floor
”
followed by a buzz that allowed Piper to open the graffiti covered door and enter the building.

The inside was such a contrast to the rough exterior of the building. Everything was remodeled but not done so in an ostentatious way. Exposed brick and finished oak lined the hallways while the floor was done in a classic black and white checked pattern. The only thing that was left alone was the old freight elevator that moved people between the floors. She walked slowly so that she could hear her new heels echo in the hallway.

Piper lifted the wood gate, then pulled the steel door open, hit the 4
th
floor button, and slid it close, triggering the slow rise of the elevator. How amazing would it have been to be trapped in the elevator with her husband right now – no cell phones or computers, just his hands moving forcefully and wildly up her skirt and under her blouse. She imagined his member up between her cheeks while he reached under her panties to move small circles around her clitoris like he use do to do get her aroused. Maybe he’d smell his fingertips for the next two days to remind himself of how sweet she was.

She pressed her hand up against the steel wall of the elevator as it rose, aroused by the thoughts of what could have been, even allowing her own hand to slightly mimic the motions she wished her husband was doing in the moment. The elevator stopped its slow crawl
; she lifted up the wooded gate, then took a deep breath before she slid open the steel door.

As she peeled it back, her eyes were filled with instant pleasure. Canvas after canvas, decorated with the most amazing colors, shapes, figures and motion lay all over the huge loft space. The windows let in light, and showed that the rain had started up again, hitting up against the glass and providing enough background noise so that there was no need for any extra music.

In the middle of the room, putting the finishing touches on a 30 x 30 canvas, was the man she had made an appointment to see, Finn Maddox, but he didn’t look like what she pictured him to be. He turned when she entered, and she could see him slowly taking in her entire body with his hazel eyes. He couldn’t have been more than 25 – if that, his body was lean and tight, and his V neck shirt covered in paint hung just over the belt line of his camouflage army pants, though when he moved, the raised muscle just below his belly button peeked out. He smiled genuine when he reached her eyes.

“Hello,” he said, a little nervous. “Did you have an appointment today?”

“Yes,” she replied, still looking around at all the artwork that covered every inch of the loft. “But I think I may have made a mistake. I needed a house painter to do a simple kitchen job. I think I may have misread what you do.”

“You’ve got the right place,” he said, walking towards her and wiping his hands as clean as they could get on his shirt. “A painter needs to do all kinds of things with a brush if they want to keep the lights on. Besides, whatever I paint, either on a canvas or on a kitchen wall, I put my soul into. I’d shake your hand but I don’t want to get paint on you.”

“That’s fine,” Piper said, extended her hand. “I used to have paint on my hands all the time. Now they’re just empty.”