Skip to content

Lesbian boots

May 23, 2010

A men’s shirt,
Unbuttoned down to my cleavage
And sleeves rolled up to my elbows.
Jeans with holes in the knees.
A black leather belt.

And a brand new pair of purple docs.

The men’s shirt could just be seen as lazy.
The holey jeans; careless.
But the purple docs?

Definitely lesbian.

I walked outside
Which in itself was a minor miracle-
My knees felt like jelly and my feet felt like they were encased in cement.
I looked around the paved garden.

Where the fuck was the dirt?

In the absence of any actual garden I ventured further outside onto the road.
A few scuff marks along the sides
A couple of attempts at stomping on my own foot;
My lesbian boots look somewhat less new.
And hopefully a lot less fake.

Time to find out if I’ll actually be able to fill them.

I wander casually into the kitchen.
She’s not there.

I stroll nonchalantly into the lounge room.

I turn to meander up the hall
And trip over my cement blocked feet.

The lesbian boots are mocking me.


“Who have you lost?”
She appeared before me
One eyebrow raised as she questions.

“No.. I wasn’t.. No one looking.”

Cement sets in my stomach.
Sammi, you are an idiot.

“Nice shirt,” she says.

She eyes my cleavage.
Jackhammers attack the cement in my gut.

“New boots?”
She looks down.
So do I.
Her boobs get in my way.

“NO! No… Had them for ages…………………….. Do you… Like them?”

I try to look at her face but her boobs keep getting in my way.

“If I liked murdering animals for something as shallow as fashion, they’d be ok, I guess.”

She turned and walked off down the hall.


“Stupid fucking lesbian boots! I should never have trusted you!”

Their newness shines in my face.
Mocking me.

The image of her boobs is burned into my eyes
And I’m suddenly aware of my nipples
Erect and buzzing.
Kissing the shirt she said she liked..

I vow never to take this shirt off again.

Then I change my mind-
I vow never to take this shirt off unless she is in the room.


I learned two things that day:

Shops don’t let you return boots with big scuff marks.

And it’s not the boots that make the lesbian.

7 Comments leave one →
  1. May 23, 2010 9:30 am

    LOVE IT, Sammi. Great response to the prompt. I especially love your honesty. I could see it all roll out before my eyes as though I was peering at you both through the crack in the kitchen door. Very good writing.

    hahahahaahaha….she doesn’t do leather – hahahahahaha. That is really funny.

  2. May 23, 2010 11:17 am

    Wow, awesome. God I love my boots and now I feel that I am in a romantic relationship with what the boots represent rather than the practical side.


  3. May 23, 2010 3:42 pm

    You write so well, Sammi! I get so lost in the moment that when the twists come, I feel something of what you must have felt at the time. It’s great.

    It also explains why you never wear shoes now.. 😉

  4. May 23, 2010 4:54 pm

    No wonder I never found myself a decent husband. My purple docs were sending out the wrong message *sheesh*

  5. May 23, 2010 5:15 pm

    I always wanted a pair of purple docs …. now …. lol 🙂

  6. sammispeaks permalink*
    May 26, 2010 9:17 am

    Admit it Megan
    You were peering at my boobs.

    If I was going to be in a romantic relationship with shoes
    I’d definitely choose a pair of boots with a really big tongue.

    Freelance all the way, baby.

    Missy Boo

    What, now you want 2 pairs?


  1. Self Censorship | Megan Bayliss

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: