Katherine Peterson perched on the chair in the plush office, her handbag pulled tight to her on her lap. Her skirt lay pleasingly above her knees and dark, nyloned legs, a fact not lost on Peter whose eyes slid over her body fleetingly before sitting down behind the large teak desk. Smiling at her, Peter reached into the desk drawer at his bottom right.
“We’re delighted you agreed to proceed with this Mrs Peterson-”
“Oh, of course, my apologies.”
Peter pulled on to his desk a rectangular box. Carefully he put it on the desk. “Do you have the disclaimer we sent through?”
Katherine reached into her handbag and pulled the thick wedge of papers from it and placed them on the desk. Peter, who looked not a day over thirty, peered through the papers carefully. Katherine looked around the office. The whole room had been dressed to match the dark wood of the desk. Thick velvet curtains in deep red lay across the bay windows, through which the hum of the Knightsbridge traffic could still be heard. To the left of the desk stood a bookcase. Opposite to that was another door leading to the back of the office. Katherine had come through a different door behind her. All in all it looked nothing like any other boutique in west London.
Peter nodded and signed the bottom of the last paper with a flourish.
“Thank you, t’s crossed and i’s dotted. Perfect.”
Katherine nodded and smiled, though it barely concealed her nerves.
Peter stood up once more. ” So let’s take a look at your purchase then.” He picked up the foot long box from the desk and walked over to Katherine, holding the box in front of her. The middle-aged woman tucked her ash blonde hair behind her ear and took the box. Carefully she undid the gold clasp on the front of the box and lifted the lid.
Inside the silk-lined casket were her ‘purchase’. A pair of deep red leather stiletto heels. The smell of the leather mixed with the sight of them gleaming crisply in the artificial light of the office. Pausing for a second to see if she would even dare, Katherine traced her finger along the contours of the shoes. Peter took a few steps back to his desk, keeping his eyes on her. He always loved this moment.
Her fingers ran along the whole length of the shoe, they were everything she had dreamed they would be, everything Peter had promised. This was no ordinary boutique and these no ordinary heels.
“Beautiful aren’t they?”
Katherine looked up with a shock, the voice was not Peter’s but another woman. Standing by the other office door was a woman in her mid-forties dressed in a grey pencil skirt and grey matching halter-top. She wore dusky nylons and black stilettos, similar in style to Katherine’s new pair. Her hair was thick, black and curled down to her shoulders.
“Yes… yes they are.” Katherine replied to the woman, who was crossing the office, one foot carefully in front of the other.
“Miss Paterson, this is my Mother, Ginette,” said Peter who was now leaning back against the desk, his breathing slightly heavier. Katherine frowned, her mouth open to ask a question that she didn’t know how to raise. Ginette giggled.
“It’s the shoes, my dear, they make me look younger than I am… They should do the same for you too.” Ginette smiled. Katherine felt rooted to the chair. She couldn’t move, let alone take her eyes off the brunette whose hands had slid over her Son’s shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.
Katherine looked at the couple. “So they… they change you?”
“You and those around you,” replied Ginette. “Would you like me to show you?”
Nodding, Katherine tried her best not to return her gaze to her new shoes.
Ginette’s hand snaked down Peter’s body and reached the top of his trousers. Licking her lips, Ginette, began to open the belt on her Son’s trousers.
Then her hand went over her mouth.
Peter moaned as his Mother’s hand pulled out his huge, thick penis from his trousers. The size was almost unreal. Ginette teased the near eleven inch dick in her hand, weighing it, as if showing Katherine its girth. Ginette squeezed and Peter mewed with pleasure.
As Ginette spoke, she massaged the cock with her hand, stimulating the blood, arousing him. “They used to say it was magic. Somehow the shoes worked wonders on those who wore them and those who they loved, especially those that they shouldn’t love… Though the truth is probably closer to pheromones that are released while making the shoe from the leather, they stimulate chemical centres in the brain and the body reacts. Magic is so much more… marketable.”
“Ohh…” Peter moaned as his Mother was now stroking his shaft, it pulsed pink and grew. Katherine didn’t know what to say. She should have left moments ago and yet she was fixated.
Ginette was now staring at her Son’s cock, but continued to talk to Katherine as if she was pupil to a teacher demonstrating for the class.
“Ever heard of Countess Maria Polovki? Fled Poland just before the occupation in 1939 with her son, Steven. Found herself in London while dodging bombs in the Blitz still managed to find time to shop. Her Son had directed her to our business, my Grandmother was in charge then… she brought three pairs of our finest court shoes… Well after that they left London and found a house in the Lake District. They invited my grandmother to stay for the weekend during the following spring. Are you alright there, dear?”
“F-fine,” said Katherine. Peter groaned appreciatively.
“So they invited her to the countryside. What she found was a veritable den of iniquity. The Countess was fucking her Son morning, noon and night, as well as the cook, scullery maid and head gardener. She told my grandmother she’d never been happier. I was told the famous orgies carried on well into the nineteen fifties… Anyway, the shoes you’re carrying now are named after her ‘Countess Marias’ a very beautiful woman who loved someone she shouldn’t…”
Katherine looked back at the red stilettos. So these shoes she was so drawn to were for a Countess. She felt a new kind of excitement stir within her.
“Ahhhh!” Peter exclaimed.
“My dear, Miss Peterson, I think you can leave us now, thank you.” Ginette was tugging on the shaft of her Son’s cock now with force.
Katherine shook herself from the trance and stood up holding the wooden box in front of her. “I… well, thank you.”
Ginette smiled back. “Enjoy, my dear. Hopefully we may see you soon…”
Katherine nodded and said thanks once more and clutching the wooden box walked back out of the office. As the door clicked behind her, she heard Peter’s barely contained shouts of orgasm as his beautiful, devilish Mother jerked the semen free from his cock. Katherine listened outside the door until he stopped moaning.
That evening Katherine took a taxi home. She didn’t feel like travelling on the tube with the box. How did it come to this? Stupidly expensive shoes, disclaimer forms pertaining to her future actions and mental wellbeing? Stories about incestual orgies in a country house?