Vanessa's New Boots by Jack

The young man walked slowly through the displayed merchandise on the main floor of the department store. He had planned out his visit to the store, one of the largest in the local mall, weeks in advance. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and in what precise sequence.

It was still early in the day, the store only having opened it's doors a half an hour before. Being a weekday, the shoppers weren't out in large numbers, and neither were the shoppers. Still, the young man glanced nervously back and forth, determined to complete his task without being observed.

He was a short fellow, probably only standing at five-foot-seven. He had large, thick glasses, a tangled mess of disheveled hair, and a pale complexion. His hunched over posture did nothing to make his slightly chubby frame look any more impressive. He wore baggy blue jeans, sneakers, and though it really wasn't all that cold out, a large overcoat. He had his hands in his pockets in such a way as to draw the coat in close, trying to not be obvious about his carrying something within it.

Finally, after what seemed like a horribly long walk, the young man emerged in the department that was his destination; Ladies Shoes. With no hesitation, the young man looked directly at a particular set of footwear, the footwear that had brought him to this store. Just in a couple of weeks ago for the fall season, a deliciously sexy pair of ladies knee-high leather boots stood on display.

The boots were crafted of a soft brown leather, slightly crinkled by design. They had small metal zippers that, when brought upward and sealed shut, would meld the shafts of the boots to the wearer's calves. The boots had very narrow, pointed toes, and ridiculously tall heels that ran needle thin up to a height of four inches. They were sex given physical form, and were made only for the purpose of putting those who wore them's best assets on display. The young man swallowed hard as he looked at them, uncomfortable with the arousal he felt while looking over the boots. Managing to tear his lustful gaze away from them, he looked over to see a bemused if slightly confused looking older saleswoman watching him.

"Can I help you with something young man?" she asked, sounding helpful while seeming to repress amusement. The young man exhaled and prepared himself for the task at hand. "Yes. I'm interested in purchasing a pair of these boots. Do you have any in a size eight?" he asked, doing his best not to stutter.

The smiling saleswoman came around, approaching him while looking him over. "For a loved one, or for yourself...?" she trailed off, obviously intrigued by this young man with an apparent interest in ladies footwear. "All I need is a pair of size eights if you have them. I'd like to look them over please." he said, determined to get through an unpleasant embarrassment that would accompany the task at hand.

"I'll see if we have any." the sales-lady answered, shrugging her shoulders in resignation before turning around and heading into the stock-room. The young man paced back and forth a bit, trying to stay patient as he waited for the woman to return. He knew that she would have a pair of size eights. He'd done his homework.

For several weeks he had observed his quarry from a distance. He had actually done a fairly impressive job as an amateur detective. He had gotten Vanessa's patterns and routines down-pat. He knew what she did and when she did it, probably better than she herself did. Through his observation, he had learned of her admiration for this particular pair of boots.

A frequent visitor to the mall, the young man had observed her walking its corridors and shops several times a week. Just two weeks ago, shopper and fashion victim that she was, Miss Vanessa had spotted this pair of boots on display. For the past several visits, she had tried them on. The size eights fit her perfectly, and she loved strutting her stuff in them while parading around the changing room, whether for herself or friends who were tagging along. The only thing that kept her from buying them was a total lack of credit. Her balance was to the max as it was, and, just like every month, she would have to wait until the last Thursday for her husband to pay it off. Invariably, he would do so, and the shallow young woman would begin racking up her shopping debts once more. From his observation, the young man knew that tonight, being Thursday, Vanessa would inaugurate her newly opened credit line with the purchase of these boots.

The young man's thoughts were interrupted by the older woman's returning with a box. "We have one pair of eights. Here they are." she said, handing them too the young man. "Do you wish to look them over or..." Before she could finish, the young man took the box and headed for one of the stores changing rooms.

"I'll need some privacy. I'll bring them back in just a moment." The perplexed old woman chuckled as she watched the young man take the box into the stall. She was sure that this was her first cross-dresser. Entering the room and closing the half-door behind him the young man sat the box down and opened the lid. Inside, he found an exquisite pair of boots just like the ones he had seen out on display. These were the size eights. Chances were, the very size eights he had watched Vanessa try on so very many times over the past couple of weeks. Picking them up, he took a moment to feel their supple brown service, feeling the crinkles of their material. He touched their pointed toes, and grasped their stiletto heels. They were certainly things of beauty. He could see why Vanessa was captivated by them. Remembering how wonderful they looked with her creamy legs rising from the top of them, he grew excited once more.

Snapping out of it, he remembered that the had a job to do, a tack to complete. Setting both boots down on the bench in the stall, he parted his long coat and begin to pull something from one of the large pockets. He fished out a small, used nail polish bottle with brush, and a strange weathered piece of parchment with writing and symbols scrawled across its surface.

Closing his eyes and hoping that everything would go according to plan, he looked over the parchment and went to work. Carefully, he painted two identical symbols with the strange green substance in the bottle. With as steady a hand as he could muster, he copied a strange rune on the inner sole of each boot, doing his best to replicate it twice. Satisfied with each of the painted symbols, he read and whispered a strange, almost unintelligible utterance from the parchment. As the last words passed from his lips, the symbols flashed and disappeared in small wisps of smoke. Awed at first, a sly grin spread across his face. It was working!

After a few minutes, the young man emerged from the changing room carrying the boots in their package. Walking them over, he lay them down on the counter before the saleswoman. "They're very nice, but I don't think I will be buying the just yet."

"Got to work up the courage to take those first steps, huh?" the old woman smiled. Smiling back at her, the young man answered, "Something like that. Have a nice day Ma'am." With a confident new stride, the young man walked on out of the store. Heading through the rows of cars in the parking lot, he damn near beamed with satisfaction. He was beginning to think that he might be able to pull this off. Several hours later, back at his small, three room apartment, the young man sat in his darkened living room. He was stripped down to his underwear, sitting cross-legged in a pentagram he had painted on the floor. Several candles cast the only flickering dim lights in the room. Eyes closed, he repeatedly muttered a strange, near-indecipherable chant in a whisper. As he did so, he thought of Vanessa.

Vanessa was a very pretty woman. She had just turned thirty, and was a few years older than the young man who now focused his mental energies on her. Though the trim figure of her youth had shifted into a slightly chubbier frame, she still looked very good. In fact, a case could be made that she looked better. Dynamite curves and wonderfully large breasts had accompanied her slight weight-gain. She was a modern-day pin-up girl. She had creamy, white skin, with slight freckling. Her hair, coming down to just above her shoulders was a dark brown with reddish highlights. Her girlish face framed a pair of deep, beautiful gray eyes. Best of all as far as the young man was concerned, Vanessa had a pair of mouth-watering legs. Perfectly in proportion to her five-foot-seven height, they had the same creamy smoothness as the rest of her skin, moving with a fluid grace. Each contour of those glorious gams screamed out to be touched and caressed.

Already blessed with great beauty, Vanessa iced the cake with her wardrobe choices. While not trashy or overly slutty, she did dress to impress. Tight sweaters and shirts and prominent displays of cleavage captured the attentions of most men who encountered her. And the skirts...!!! My god the skirts!!! Short without being too short, revealing enough of those wonderful lower limbs to entice even the most staid of gentleman. What the skirts revealed enticed and captured, what they hid lit fire to the imagination.

As enamored as most men were with her, most women were disgusted. Though not overtly slutty, Miss Vanessa was a terrible flirt. She bent men to her will, and had no qualms about ensnaring them. She seemed to feed off of their attention, doing all she could to bring them to heel. This game proved especially complicated with her being married. Vanessa had married her had-working, money-making husband Steve several years ago. He provided her with the cash for her shopping sprees, and the lifestyle she felt was owed her. Unfortunately, this did nothing to alleviate her need for male attention.

It was in the game of this flirting that Vanessa had drawn in and captured the attention of the young man who now sat chanting on his living room floor, the young man who was concentrating on Vanessa. For many years, the young man had been her paper boy. Vanessa, always happy to have a new male admirer, had begun giving him attention during his daily visits, while her husband was away. She fed him sandwiches and talked and laughed with him, slowly bringing him into her life. After a while, she began to spin tales of her marital unhappiness, fishing for compliments and declarations of how special she was from the awe-struck boy. This went on for months and months, until finally, the poor confused young man declared his love for her, wishing to take her away from the horrors she had described.

The game over, and things to far gone, Vanessa cut him off immediately. It just wasn't any fun for her anymore. He had gotten too wrapped up in things. So, with little fanfare, she cut him off. She would not be having anything to do with him anymore. What's more, she tried to convince him that he had been wrong, and that she had simply wanted friendship while he built imaginary scenarios.

A couple years passed. Vanessa moved on to new games, with new boy toys and male admirers, while the young man drifted form job to job. One day, a strange package arrived on his apartment doorstep. Inside, he found a parchment. The parchment detailed the necessary ingredients and actions for a most interesting ritual, a ritual that promised something that the young man had grown to hunger for. At first doubting the parchment's promises, feeling they were just as unreal as the promises Vanessa had made, the young man had finally gave in to the hope that the document could provide what it really boasted it could. He began to follow and document Vanessa's routines and activities, waiting for a chance to perform what the parchment prescribed.

As he sat there in the dark, suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine. Before he could react, a sharp, agonizing wave ran throughout his body. He grunted as he ground his teeth together, overwhelmed by some unseen strike against him. He folded forward, still in his seated position, fading into and out of consciousness in rapid succession. Finally, his back went straight. His body sat there, still cross-legged in the pentagram, but his eyes went blank as his conscious mind left his body. The room went silent.

Slowly, so very slowly, sensation and feeling returned to the young man. With concentration, he began to register what his senses were telling his consciousness. Everything felt wrong. Nothing felt as it should. As he began to take in what he was seeing, he tried to piece together his location, for he new he was no longer on his living room floor. He could see the shoe department he had visited earlier in the day. He could make out the brightly lit store and the footwear on display. He could see other shoppers going about their business. He began to feel other things as well. The brushing of hair on the back of his neck, longer hair than he was used to. The feel of some kind of garment or belt pinching his chest, more than that, his chest felt different, swollen or something. In fact, his whole center of gravity felt different. He could feel the swish of fabric on his thighs. He was in a skirt! He felt himself walking back and forth, taking several steps before spinning and returning on the same path. He could feel his hips sway, much more than he was used to.

As all of this was happening, he suddenly realized that he wasn't doing any of this himself! He was moving and walking back in forth, but he had no input. Someone else was acting, and he was along for the ride. With no input form him, he could feel his face lean forward as it watched his feet walk, right then left, right then left. As he found himself forced to do so, he suddenly recognized the footwear he was watching as it made it's progress forward. He was watching the very boots he had inspected and prepared earlier!

He regained his bearings and remembered all that he had prepared for. It had worked! As he felt the body he was in walk around and prance, he probed the sensations that were washing over him. Completely different mannerisms and movements, strange new contours, and the feel of very feminine clothing draping him. All the while, one sensation made itself known above the rest; a warm, electric tingle that came from the high-heeled boots on his feet. It had worked indeed. Due to his mystical preparations, and meticulous planning, the stunning boots he had performed the rituals with had linked his soul with Vanessa's body!

He was feeling what she felt! The boots had drawn him into her. She must have went to the store and tried on the boots once more. Placing them on her feet, Vanessa had set into motion the supernatural process the young man had engineered. Once zipped and safely fitted to her feet and calves, the young man had been pulled by the boots into her very body. He was in her, he was with her, he was fused with her, he was her! "God I love these things. They feel so great." He could hear her squeal. Her girlish, almost childlike voice sounded so strange from within her own head. Muffled, as his own voice sounded to him. He could feel her lift one leg, then the other, inspecting the footwear she had become enamoured with.

"They do look wonderful on you dear." He could feel Vanessa turn her head to look at the same older sales-woman he had encountered earlier in the day. "Will you be buying them?" she asked. He could feel Vanessa's cheeks tighten, she was smiling, or was it they were smiling? "Yes! I've finally got some of my credit back. Hubby finally came through with his paycheck." she giggled.

The sales-lady smiled. "Good. Those boots were made for you dear. Will you be taking them off to take home or...." Before she could finish, the young man heard Vanessa speak up, "Oh no! I want to wear them home!" He could feel her put her hands on her hips and pose. It was strange to feel her dainty, feminine fingers instead of his own male digits. He felt their soft grasp right along with Vanessa, as if they were his own.

He watched in rapt attention, a passenger in Vanessa's body, along the ride but not able to interact as of yet. He felt what she felt, and heard her voice from within, just as if it were her own. The chill air of the store on her soft exposed skin was wonderful. He especially enjoyed the feel of her nylon pantyhose, so soft, yet tightly sheathing her lower body in their grip. He watched as she paid for the boots and made small talk. He luxuriating in feeling what it was like to be Vanessa. All the while, the comforting electric warmth of the boots gripping her legs anchored him within her.

With her purse slung over her arm, Vanessa strutted in her new boots. Her hips swayed back and forth, throwing her short skirt back and forth as she strode confidently out of the store. Her ample breasts jiggled with each step, moving, but cradled by the bra he could feel under her shirt. The click, click, click, click,... of her boots' heels on the tiles of the floor sounded fantastic.

Walking out into the parking lot, the young man felt Vanessa take note of a group of young men watching her. He could feel her warm a bit and grow flush, even as she smiled a little bit. It was obvious from his vantage point within her that she was enjoying their attention. He could feel her put a little more sway to her hips, quite the accomplishment considering how much she was moving before. Through her ears, he could hear their voices raised in approval. She giggled a bit as she got her keys out and climbed up into her SUV.

From his vantage point, seeing things through Vanessa's own ideas, her climb up into the seat was awesome. He large breasts pitched forward, even as her short skirt moved ever so slightly up her leg, displaying her amazing thighs to his satisfaction. The sensation of the seat-belt across her body was beyond belief.

His enjoyment ended suddenly when she got underway. Vanessa was a terrible driver! Whipping through traffic like a madwoman, working the gas and break with her new high-heeled boots, the woman was a menace. Suddenly, his joyride in her body didn't seem like such a good thing. With no control over her actions as of yet, he could only hope against hope that she wouldn't get them both killed.

After twenty minutes of driving, with the sun dipping beyond the horizon, the pair in one pulled into the long driveway of Vanessa's large home. It was a sprawling new two-story, just outside of the city. Vanessa's husband Steve had spent a pretty penny to claim it. As she climbed down and out of the SUV in her garage, the young man tried to recollect the details of her life that he had managed to commit to memory. It was only early in the evening. So, Steve wouldn't be home until a little while after midnight, his working the evening shift and all.

He saw what she saw, and felt what she felt as she headed into her home. He could feel each motion, as if it were his own. Except that is, for his total inability to effect that movement. He was just along for the ride. He was the ultimate passenger, watching as Vanessa dictated how her body would move.

She strode in and laid her purse on the kitchen table. Turning on the lights as she made her way through the rooms of her large home, she went about her tasks. She looked through the mail her husband had brought in before heading off to work. The young man noted with some disgust the vast number of bills and catalogs addressed to her. She certainly was the ultimate "high-maintenance" girl.

Walking into the hall, Vanessa stopped in front of a large, floor-length mirror. She primped and posed a bit, taking special pride in her sexy new boots. "I love my boots!" she giggled. The young man wholeheartedly agreed. Walking into the living room, Vanessa continued to speak to herself. " They do feel a bit weird though. They don't pinch, but they tingle. I hope they aren't cutting off my circulation!" Turning round, she sat back on her large sofa, lifting her right leg up so as to admire the new boot firmly in place on it. "So Sexxxxxy!" she laughed as she felt it with both hands. With her thin fingers, and fire-engine red nails, she pulled at the boot's zipper with her thumb and forefinger.

The young man watched with satisfaction as Vanessa pulled on the zipper, only to find that it refused to budge. Gripping her leather sheathed calf for support, she altered her leverage on the zipper and tugged harder. The young man felt her muscles strain, her hands tense, and her brow furrow as she tried to pull the boots zipper. Still, it refused to move in the slightest.

"What the hell..?" she muttered, putting the right boot down so as to try the left one. After much effort, she found that it's zipper was securely fastened as well. The young man could feel her face tighten in frustration, her breathing grew heavier, he could see her large breasts heave at the effort. Giving up on the zipper, she grabbed the boot with both hands and began to pull and push with all of her might. She alternated between the two boots for several minutes, trying with all she had to get the boots off, only to find all of her effort wasted. Standing up and stomping the right boot onto the floor in anger she muttered "stupid boots! Why can't I get these damn things off?!?!?" Standing there with her arms crossed, Vanessa pouted and paced.


With each effort to pull the boots off, as her frustration built, the young man became aware of something new intruding into his senses. He began to feel something build, something grow stronger. As Vanessa grew more and more angry with the boots, he began to feel more in tune with her. He began to feel her senses more and more, almost becoming overwhelmed with her touch, smell, sight, hearing, and even taste. He was becoming more entwined with the lovely Miss Vanessa.

Angrier with each passing minute, and now muttering curses under her breath at her new boots, Vanessa stomped into the kitchen. Pulling open a drawer, she pulled out a sharp pair of shears. "I'll cut the damned things off if I have to!" Trying to cut at the leather, Vanessa muttered continually, "I'll tell you one thing for sure, that damn store is going to be giving me my money back!" For the next twenty minutes, her boot up on the counter, Vanessa tried to cut and saw, desperately trying to attack her new stiletto boots. To her mounting panic, she couldn't muster anything of the kind. No cuts, tears, nothing! She couldn't even scuff the stupid things. The young man just watched as she worked fruitlessly. He felt her strain and frustration, he felt her tension and effort, and he smile inwardly as she failed with each attempt. Smiled, and grew stronger.

Finally giving up, Vanessa began to tear up, pouting and blustering at her situation. It was so frustrating and embarrassing. She was stuck in the damned boots! Wiping her eyes and nose, the tearful young woman slunk around the kitchen, pacing as she tried to figure out what move to make next. "Oh god! Steve will be at work for so long still! What am I going to do?!?!"

The young man who shared her body felt an energy buildup withing Vanessa's boots. The little leather prisons, his doorway into her body, were undergoing some kind of fantastical process. As Vanessa's emotions grew more and more hysterical and desperate, the young man could feel the boots pulling him more and more into her. Something wonderful was about to happen.

Sighing in resignation, Vanessa's shoulders slumped. "Well, I've got to call an ambulance or the fire department or something..." she cried as she took a few steps toward the kitchen phone. With each step forward, the boots that had snared her with their beauty clicked on the kitchen tiles, almost mocking her.

Suddenly, Vanessa stopped in her tracks! An electric jolt ran through her body. She froze in mid-stride. "What in the hell...?!?" she muttered. For a minute, she just stood there shocked. After a bit, her brow furrowed and she began to grunt with frustration. "I can't move!!!" Her body moved only slightly, quivering, as if a great invisible hand were holding her in place. Her tears began to flow again. "Help! Somebody help me! I can't move!!!" she said, having no idea what action to take.

The young man within her was busy recovering. The same powerful wave of electric warmth that had heralded Vanessa's enforced paralysis and knocked him for a loop. He could feel what she felt still, but was more than a little out of it. As he began to regain some semblance of self, he felt a strange new sensation. It felt as if he were stepping into the comforting warmth of the boots anew, sliding down into Vanessa's soft legs like a pair of pants. He felt the strange feminine void of her sex, the large round curves of her ass. He filled her torso in, and slipped into her arms and hands. Finally, he began to feel her head and face once more. He was back in sync with her. But, something more was there this time, something had changed.

Vanessa watched, confused as her right hand raised itself up in front of her wide eyes so she could look it over. The only problem was that she wasn't doing it! The young man was marveling at what her eyes saw as well. He was moving her arm, he was waving her fingers! Just as the parchment had promised, he was in control! Pulling out of her frozen stride, Vanessa's body stood still and rigid. She felt the boots reposition themselves as her body began to move of it's own accord. She tried to influence her limbs, to move as she wanted, but found herself unable to. "W-what's happening?!?" she asked, incredulous.

The young man began to take in the full measure of the glorious new body he found himself directing. He began to run Vanessa's small hands up an down the length of herself, tracing the contours of her lovely feminine form. He cupped her breasts, pinched her ass, and caressed her pantyhose clad thighs. He was finally getting to touch her, after wanting to for so very long.

"Who's doing this?!?" Vanessa asked in confused horror. "My God, are you the boots?!?" She could only watch as some unseen force made her look down at her hands feeling up her own body. At least she was able to speak still, she thought.

The young man drank in the sights he was witnessing through Vanessa's eyes. Her body was what he had dreamed of for so very long, and now it was his to do with as he pleased. The ritual had worked! Through those wonderful, sexy boots, Vanessa's body was his! He reached down and began to caress them with Vanessa's hands.

"Please, stop this! Are you the devil?! Who's doing this to me?!" Vanessa pleaded. After several minutes, her hands stopped their probing. Vanessa watched helplessly as her body turned around and walked into the living room. Her ass swayed and her new boots clicked as she strutted in under someone else's control.

The young man inside of Vanessa began to probe her senses, feeling the extent of his connection to her. He was straining to try and make that link stronger. He was almost where the parchment had promised him that he would be. He was reaching into her mind.

Walking into the living room, Vanessa watched from her new passenger-perspective as her body pulled a medium-sized mirror off of the wall and carried it over toward the foot-stool. Setting down on it, straddling it so that her skirt rode up high on her lovely thighs, Vanessa watched as her high-heeled boots positioned themselves on the floor. Her arms held up the mirror before her.

The sight shocked her beyond belief. Instead of her lovely reflected image, the mirror cast a different, though familiar face. In the mirror, Vanessa could see an old acquaintance of hers. In the mirror, with a bare chest and a smiling face, reversed in position just like her, was the smiling face of her old friend Patrick. Patrick the paperboy was in the mirror across from her. She felt her head look down at her own large chest, then her thighs, as if confirming that she was still herself. Looking back up, she saw Patrick's smiling reflected face once more. "Patrick, is that you...?" she whispered.

Vanessa 2

"In the flesh, or, is that in your flesh?!?" he laughed. When he spoke, Vanessa could hear his voice, but felt her own lips mouth his words as well, as if his image were hers reflected in the mirror. She tried to form some response, but found herself quite unable to fathom the situation. Patrick seemed to be in her, in fact, Patrick seemed to be controlling her!

"I've done a lot of thinking over the years Nessa. I think you were wrong to end our relationship. In fact, I think instead of distance between us, we need more intimacy. More intimacy than anyone could possibly imagine!" He smiled a devilish grin. "We're going to have so much fun together Vanessa..., and to think, I owe it all to your sexy new boots!!!" Patrick laughed as he pitched his head back in the mirror, as he did, Vanessa felt her own head pitch back in response, no laughter sprang from her lips though. All she wanted to do was cry.

Before her wide, disbelieving eyes, Vanessa looked into the mirror at the laughing face of Patrick. Though she couldn't see her own image, she knew that it had to have gone a ghastly pale. "P-patrick...? w-what is this...?" she managed to whisper.

With no say so from her, Vanessa felt her body twirl round as her booted feet stepped in a circle. She could feel the air tussle her hair, as her hands held the mirror out before her while she spun in a circle. She could feel her tiny pleated skirt kick up with the motion, lifting with the movement; the chill of the rooms air ran over her thighs. Patrick's face in the mirror smiled back at her as he had her spin on her heels like an imprisoned ballerina.

"What is this? I'd call it just desserts!" he cackled in her head. She could see his lips move in the mirror, but his voice wasn't in her ears. His words were more like some horrible, cold thought rattling around in her own head. "You had fun making me dance to your little tune, no I'm going to do the same to you!" Vanessa felt her body dance about, stepping on each foot in strange time as Patrick made her do a little jig. As she hopped about, her hands tossed the mirror over onto the couch.

"How are you doing this? Did you do something to these damn boots?!?" she pleaded.

"Your powers are deduction are amazing. You should be out there solving crimes." Patrick's voice chuckled in her head. Vanessa felt her body come to a stop. It was so strange, being totally unable to control herself, while still feeling her body move. She desperately wanted to move her own hands, to bring her legs to a standstill, but, despite her concentration, her body continued to refuse her own will.

Her dance ended as Patrick brought her body to a halt. With Patrick in charge of her movements, Vanessa's body moved with his mannerisms. Anyone familiar with her would have noticed that the beautiful young woman was moving in a peculiar manner. Vanessa felt her head tilt forward as Patrick drank in the image of her body with her own eyes. As she watched in shock, her own dainty hands began to cup and massaged her rather large breasts. "Wow, these things are amazing!" Patrick's voice echoed in her head.

"You dirty little pervert! Stop that!" Vanessa shouted.

Ignoring her wishes, Patrick began to explore what it meant to share Vanessa's body. He ran her hands down her sides, tracing the outline of her mid-riff and going down onto her flared hips. "God, but I've wanted to get my hands on you for so long..." Patrick's voice whispered in her thoughts. "I guess your hands will have to do!" he giggled.

Reaching behind, Vanessa felt her hands squeeze and pinch her lovely little rear-end. "Please! Please stop this!" she begged.

Patrick reached down and under Vanessa's little skirt, rubbing her soft thighs. It was all so surreal, he was feeling her, but with hands that were not his own. He felt both the fabulous warmth of those delicious thighs, and the soft feminine skin of the hands that were caressing them.

Patrick was pleasantly surprised to feel something akin to an erection. In is awareness, but separate from the sensations he was feeling through the boots from Vanessa's body, he could feel that tell-tale throb of excitement.

Taking in the feel of her, Patrick began to delve into her sex as well. He could feel a strange void, almost a feeling of absence. A strange electric tingle in a void. Reaching up from her thighs, he began to probe the outer surface of Vanessa's panties, running her delicate fingers over the strange contours beneath them.

"Stop it you bastard! Get your hands... I mean get my hands off of that!" Vanessa raged.

Momentarily shocked, Patrick pulled her hands away like lightening. Composing himself, he once more spoke in Vanessa's head. "Just checking out the new ride Nessa." he chuckled in that strange disembodied way.

Walking over to the footstool, Patrick plopped down on Vanessa's rump. She found herself sitting there in a most un-lady-like manner, legs spread out to the sides. She leaned back a bit, bringing he left boot off the ground. Vanessa watched as her left leg lifted up off the floor and out in front of her. Coming forward a bit while sitting there, Vanessa's hands reached out and began to run up and down the long leather shafts of the boots. "These beauties are really doing there job. I have to admit it Nessa, you do have exquisite taste. They look fantastic on you!"

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, almost whispering.

"Nothing to terrible, at least not while I'm in you!" Patrick chuckled. Vanessa watched helplessly as he forced her hands to continue caressing the boots she found herself imprisoned by. "I'm going to stay here with you, or is that as you? Oh well.., I'm going to make myself at home in you for a bit, have some fun, make some laughs, and then I'll be on my merry way. As long as you behave yourself and be a good little girl, I'll leave you none the worse for the wear. Cross me.." Vanessa was shocked by the stinging pain of a slap as Patrick made her own hand slap her across the face "..and you'll find it unpleasant."

Patrick had Vanessa's body hop up off of the stool once more. She stood there, stepping back and forth as Patrick used her eyes to look over her new boots. "They are sexy, aren't they?" he marveled. "The spell is working just as the parchment said it would. Thanks to these boots, you my lovely little minx, are mine!"

"Spell? What kind of horrible magic is this? How do you know how..." Vanessa stammered.

"Shut up!" Patrick's voice bellowed through her head, quieting her questions in an instant. "You don't need to know anything more than what I decide to tell you." Patrick's voice informed her more quietly.

Vanessa could feel her own hands begin to probe and feel her body once more. "You know, I never imagined how wonderful it feels to be you. Your body, the way your clothes feel, the tight grip of these boots on your legs, the way your hair brushes against the back of your neck..., I feel like I'm drowning in sexuality." he mused within her mind.

Having done a reasonably well job of maintaining her composure until then, Vanessa finally erupted into tears. As her body continued to appear to luxuriate in the feel of itself, her face sobbed.

"Oh there, there, none of that now!" Patrick said in mock concern. Vanessa's body walked from the living room and into the kitchen. Her terrible new boots clicked with each step on the tiled floor. Her hands reached out and grabbed a hand full of tissues, bringing them up to wipe her eyes. "We have so much to do, so much to prepare for!" he continued. "Right now, we have to discuss what we're going to do when your dashing husband gets home this evening!" Patrick chuckled. Vanessa's face drained of color once more, she didn't like the joy in Patrick's voice as he mentioned her soon to return home husband.

Steve was worn out and happy to be home after a long evening at work. His job as an engineer paid well, but demanded time and effort in spades. After steering his big red pick-up truck up the driveway, the exhausted man climbed out, gathered up his coat and lunch pale, and headed toward the front door.

Steve was a decent looking guy, rugged with his beard, and solidly built. He was a real man's man, who most often wore the same jeans, t-shirt, and work-boot ensemble that he had on that evening. Wiping his brow, he stepped up onto the front porch and began to open the door.

Steve took a deep breath and steeled himself against what might await him inside. His wife Vanessa was a beautiful, sexy woman, but she could be quite a handful. She tended to be moody, often snapping at, ignoring, and generally acting as though she loathed Steve for long periods for time. She spent their money with wild abandon. Still, she did keep an immaculate house, and would overcome her moody lapses enough to show him some kind of affection every now and then. Despite it all, Steve loved her. As he opened the door, he hoped against hope that his wife would be in a half-way-decent mood that evening.

Stepping into the entryway, Steve was surprised to find his lovely wife standing there, waiting for him. Usually, owing to the late hour, Vanessa would have already turned in for the evening. "Honey! Did you wait up for me?" Steve asked, smiling at the pleasant surprise. As his eyes refocused in the light of the house, Steve could make out his wife's form across from him. She was in one of her little skirt and sweater combos, and had apparently picked up a pair of very sexy high-heeled boots. Steve immediately felt the blood flow to his nether-regions as he looked over his wife's fabulous legs.

Looking more closely at her face, Steve became aware of something being wrong. Vanessa was pale, and looked a bit frazzled. Her eyes were red and puffy, apparently from crying. "Nessa? Is something wrong sweety?" Steve asked as he set his lunch pale and coat down. Relieving himself of his burdens, he stepped toward his wife, offering her a hug and a shoulder to cry on. He was beginning to get a little concerned.

Bringing her hands up quickly to stop him, Vanessa shouted, "No! don't come any closer!" Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and put her hands on her hips. Her stance was one of commanding defiance, even as her face was one of frightened panic. "Steve, somethings happened. Something that I have to explain to you. But first, I have to show you something. Follow me."

Vanessa walked from the entryway and down the hall. Steve, dumbfounded by what was going on, followed. Heading into the bathroom, Vanessa stood in front of the mirror over the sink. Coming up behind her, Steve was startled upon seeing the image reflected in it. Though he stood behind his wife, in the mirror's reverse image, he was standing behind a young man, naked as far as he could tell. "What in the Hell...?" he whispered. The young man smiled fiendishly in the mirror, as Steve looked back and forth between him and his wife. His wife had a look of abject terror on her pale face.

Vanessa and Steve had walked into the living room, her indicating that Steve should sit down as she began to explain things to him. Steve noticed as she walked and moved something disconcertingly different about her movements. She walked with a much different rhythm, as if she wasn't at all used to walking on heels. Her hips swayed, but not with the same sexy arc. All and all, his wife's mannerisms had become much more masculine.

As he sat there, Vanessa told Steve of her purchase of the sexy new boots she now wore. She told him of her finding them fused to her feet. She told him of her sudden loss of control, of the dreadful paralysis she experienced. Through tear-filled eyes, his sobbing wife told him of her being forced to move to anothers will. She told him how the same young man he had seen in the mirror had taken control of her, using the boots she was now trapped in to dominate her every move.

She told him what Patrick, who was apparently speaking to her from inside of her head, wanted her to. She strutted back and forth with a cocky stride before the seated Steven, her body moving to Patrick's whim even as she relayed he horrific tale. If he hadn't seen the terrible truth in the mirror earlier, Steven wouldn't have believed a fantastic word of it. But, his own eyes confirmed the awful truth. His wife's body was no longer her own. Face red with anger, doing his best to stay calm, Steven gritted his teeth. "What in the Hell do you want from us?!?! What are you going to get out of this?!?!"

Vanessa seemed to be listening to some unseen voice before answering. "H-he says that he'll get everything he wants, o-or I'll pay the price." Vanessa's body walked over and looked out the window. "He says that you'll do everything he says, or, he'll be forced to make me do, terrible, dreadful things." Vanessa went a shade paler as she relayed that communique from her master. Turning round, she looked at her husband before telling him more of Patrick's pronouncements. "Patrick says that if we behave, and go along with what he wants, he'll move on shortly." Vanessa's hands began to caress and run up and down her own body, taking their time around her breasts. "I-if we play nice, he'll leave us none the worse for the wear."

Swallowing heard, Steven considered his options. He didn't understand any of these supernatural goings-on, and his anger was way past the boiling-point, but he couldn't conceive of any other options. "Fine. I'll do whatever you tell me to. Just don't hurt my wife." he said, lowering his head in resignation. "He says good. He knew you'd be a good boy Steve." Vanessa told him.

That night, Steven was told to sleep on the living room couch by his wife's uninvited guest. Laying the sheets down, he watched down the hall and through the open bedroom door as his wife walked around the bedroom. As she sobbed, her lecherous hands peeled off her clothing, throwing sweater, skirt, bra, and finally panties on the floor. The tearful woman danced around naked, looking for the life of her as if she was turned on and lusting for her own body. Stopping, she looked down the hall at Steve, before marching over in her tall boots and slamming the door shut.

That night, Steve didn't sleep a wink. He was worried sick about his poor wife, now a prisoner in her own body, slave to a perverted young bastard that had done something to her new boots. Tossing and turning, he couldn't help but imagine the horrors to which she was being subjected to. Straining, he tried to hear anything, but heard only the faintest of noises. Worst of all, he felt a cold shiver of guilt. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Steve found himself excited by what was going on. He felt terrible, for in a way, this was actually turning him on.

The next morning, Steve was awakened by his wife walking into the living room before him. She had obviously gotten up and washed up, done her hair, and beautified. She still looked slightly sick in the face, though her hair was combed and styled. Her lips were painted bright red with lipstick, if a bit more than she usually did. She had changed clothes for the new day. Now she wore a tight black turtleneck sweater, a very short gray skirt, and a red scarf. Most bizarre were the boots. Though they were the same ones she had been stuck in last night, now they were a shiny black color, having apparently changed hue. More perplexing, now her legs were clad in different colored pantyhose. These were of a black and gray pattern, looking like a check/argyle/diamond motif. "Did the boots change color? How did you get those pantyhose on?" he asked, wondering how she had managed to pull them up her lovely legs without taking the cursed footwear off.

"While he was picking out what he wanted me to wear today, the boots changed color to match his selection. The hose..., well, they grew up and out of each boot, wrapping around my body." she said, sounding mystified, and slightly disgusted. "He said that you will not tell anyone about what's going on. NO ONE! If you do.." Vanessa's hand came up and mad the cut-throat motion. "He has errands for us to run today. You have to stay here. He said you shouldn't leave the house."

Vanessa walked around the room, picking up her keys and hand-bag. As she did, Steve noticed that she continued to move like someone else, obviously moving as Patrick would. Apparently, he was getting better at walking in heels though. "Where is he taking you" Steve asked, sounding more than a little helpless. Looking as if she were listening to someone speak, Vanessa answered. "That's his business. You just sit tight and hold down the fort, "Stevie"" she said, obviously sickened at having to use Patrick's turn of phrase. "We'll be back when he's finished with our tasks. He says to tell you he's sorry, but he doesn't really feel like giving you a kiss good-bye." Closing her eyes momentarily, looking as if she were fighting back tears once more, Vanessa put on a pair of sunglasses, and strutted in her newly black high-heeled boots out the door.

Vanessa watched helplessly as she was forced to drive her SUV on some unknown course. Though she could see and feel them, her hands did as Patrick wished; gripping the steering wheel while periodically turning it. She could feel her right foot, trapped as it was in one of those hated boots, alternate between the gas and brake peddles. Looking up from the road, she caught a glimpse of Patrick's features in the rear-view mirror, exactly where hers were supposed to be. "Where are you making me go?" she asked through grinding teeth.

She could hear Patrick chuckle in her mind. "Oh, we have an appointment. I don't want to give away too much though. I want to keep it a surprise. Patrick couldn't believe that it was all working out as it was supposed to. He could feel everything Vanessa was. He could feel the cool of the air on her legs, the hem of her skirt, the tight pull of her bra under the sweater, it was weird, but also very exciting. More than any other sensation, he could feel the pulsing power of the boots that were stuck on Vanessa's feet. Those boots continued to bind Patrick's mind to her body, and had given him complete control of her physicality. It felt amazing.

After a little while, the "pair" arrived at a small building with a large sign in front of it. The sign read STRYKER PHOTOGRAPHY. As Patrick forced her to bring the truck to a stop, Vanessa asked, "What are we doing here!?!?" She didn't like this development.

"We're here for a little photo session I scheduled. I banked on me having access to your "assets", and made an appointment for a photo shoot. I want some pictures of the two of us together!" he laughed in her mind. "You little pervert! I...." before she could continue Vanessa found her own hands coming up around her throat. She struggled to breath as her soft fingers applied more and more pressure to her windpipe. After a little bit, they released their grip. Vanessa coughed and gasped for air, desperate to regain her breath. "No more acts of rebellion please. You will do as you are told, or I'll make you pay for it." Patrick informed her cooly.

"B-but you're in me! If you hurt me, you hurt yourself?!?!" she forced out in desperation. "Not so, sexy!" If you take a turn for the worse, I'll just shuttle off to my own body. I can leave anytime I want." he chuckled. As Vanessa stifled some emerging tears, Patrick continued with his mental instructions, "Now, here is how this little outing is going to go..."

After a few moments, Vanessa opened her SUV door and stepped out onto the pavement, bringing each of her now black boots to the ground. She stepped back and forth, each high heel clicking on the asphalt. Slamming the door shut, she pulled her purse over her shoulder and strode toward the building. The enchanted boots now had a shiny black coloration, each pulled tight up her calves and zippered shut. Her legs were sheathed in a pair of patterned tights. The tights were in an argyle pattern of alternating gray and black diamonds. A very short gray skirt fell well up on her thighs, rising a bit with each step as her hips swayed back and forth. A tight black turtleneck clung to her enormous breasts, displaying their contours to best effect.

Around her neck, Vanessa wore a red scarf. Patrick had forced her to put it on on a lark, spotting it in her closet as he picked out how he would dress his "doll" for the day. Vanessa's face looked haunted, and a bit teary. Her lips were smeared with a bright red shade of lipstick. Though he was getting better at walking in heels, Patrick had yet to master makeup application.

As she strutted into the building, a group of passing men took note of her, whispering among themselves and admiring the lovely young woman passing them by. "You certainly are a head-turner aren't you Nessa?" Patrick giggled. "Let's give these fellas a show!" Stopping in her tracks, Vanessa felt herself whip around until she was facing the men. Each of them stopped in their tracks, instantly taking note of her abrupt halt. To her horror, Vanessa felt her hands reach down and pull up her short skirt, giving the group of men a first class view of her pantyhose-covered panties. "Oh my god!!!! Stop it!!!" Vanessa screamed.

The perplexed men looked at each other with confused grins, not really knowing what to make of the strange scene. They smiled nervously as they looked at the suddenly exhibitionist young woman. Vanessa's hands rubbed up and down her thighs, feeling them with a lover's touch. Stopping after a bit, she spun around and continued into the building. "Oh calm down Nessa, those boy's were just admirers!" Patrick laughed. "I told you in the car that I didn't want any outbursts from you! This is my joyride."

Vanessa 3

Inside the studio, Vanessa looked around the room she had entered. A makeshift lobby backed by a photograph backdrop consisting of a large white curtain filled most of the structure. A large camera on a tripod sat facing the curtain. A small bearded man entered from the back room with his hand offered in greeting. "Ahhh, you must be Vanessa! Patrick said you were a pretty girl, but you're absolutely gorgeous!" he said as he shook the taller woman's hand. As her hand returned his shake, Vanessa finally managed a reply, as dictated by Patrick. "Uhhh, yeah. Hello there Mr. Stryker. It's nice to meet you. Is everything ready for my, my photo-shoot?" she asked meekly. She hoped that it wasn't.

"Of course! Just step here in front of the curtain and we'll get started!" Mr. Stryker hurried over behind his camera. Vanessa felt her body take off and set her purse to the side. With a cocky stride, her boots carried her over in front of the camera. "This is going to be fun! I can't wait to see what kind of pictures I get of sexy little you!" Patrick mocked her from within.

As the little man snapped picture after picture, Vanessa felt her body move and pose, doing it's best to position her for some sexy pics. " I saw this one in a Maxim Magazine spread.." she could hear Patrick comment as he forced her body to show off for the photographer. "Oh wonderful, you're really getting into the spirit of this my dear." the little man said. "Although, you don't look too happy on your face, do try to smile more!"

Per Patrick's instructions, Vanessa tried to smile, but she couldn't help how she felt. All through the photo-shoot. Though her body posed and strutted, her smile remained forced and insincere. Her cheeks a bright, embarrassed red. Hands on hips, crouching, back arched; she positioned herself in so many different ways that she lost track of them. "I'm going to save these pics when I take my leave of you. They're going to be a nice memento of our time together, don't you think?" Patrick whispered in her thoughts.

For the final picture, Patrick spun Vanessa around so that her backside was facing the camera. Bending forward, she pulled up her skirt so that her panty-clad ass was on full display. Vanessa muttered under her breath, "You bastard..." as the flash went off over and over again.

After shaking hands with the photographer once more, Vanessa made arrangements for the finished pictures to be delivered to Patrick's apartment. Walking back out through the parking lot, her dominated body climbed back into her SUV and sped off down the road. "That was great. But, we have so much more to do before I move on. This ride is just beginning Vanessa!!!" Patrick cackled.

Vanessa did her best to concentrate on the road as she drove off from the photographer’s. Doing her best to keep a reign on her emotions, she glanced up at the rearview mirror. Despite having seen it so many times over the past two days, she was still incredulous at seeing Patrick’s smiling face in its reflected image. “How are long are you going to do this too me?” she asked, doing her best to keep the anger and frustration she was experiencing from her question.

“Not much longer actually.” Patrick’s voice answered in her mind, his voice distinctly his as it intruded into her thoughts. “I’m only going to use you for a bit more. I have a few more errands to run and then I’ll be taking my leave of you.”

Vanessa let out a small gasp of relief despite her efforts at self-control. She was happy to see some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. Watching her hands work the steering wheel, fully under Patrick’s control, she dreamed of being able to move as she wanted to once more.

“Ah, here we are!” Patrick announced in her thoughts as Vanessa watched her body drive her vehicle into the mall parking lot once more.

Vanessa felt her body gather up her purse and slide down out of the SUV. With the heels of her horrible new boots clicking on the pavement with each step, Vanessa’s legs carried her toward the mall with the odd stride that Patrick’s control gave her. “What are you making me do here?” Vanessa whispered. “We’re going to use your credit cards to make a few purchases for me.” Patrick chuckled in her mind. “Hey!!” Vanessa shouted, “I’m not….” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the bizarre severity of her predicament. As helpless as she was now, disagreement was probably not a good idea. “Oh? You have a problem with buying me a few well deserved rewards?” Patrick asked in mock surprise. “No…never mind.” She answered quickly. “Whatever you want, just as long as you leave me alone at the end of this.” she said, almost pleading. “That’s a good girl. You’re starting to understand your place in this. Just sit back and let me take care of everything.” Patrick chuckled in her thoughts.

Vanessa hated the way Patrick made her move. As she walked toward the mall, her hips swayed with an exaggerated, sexy rhythm. The boots Patrick was using to control her took one clicking step after another, carrying her legs, now clad in black and gray diamond patterned tights on a path of Patrick’s choosing. “I don’t think I’d like to be you all the time Nessa. I feel like just being out like this that we’re on display; eye-candy for any fella’s we pass.” Patrick said in her thoughts.

Vanessa gritted her teeth, but remained silent. As she walked into the mall, she could see that he was right. Every male head turned and followed the progress of the beautiful young woman suddenly in their midst. The loud footfalls of her boots serving as a call for them to take a gander. Patrick made her smooth out her skirt, and pull her black sweater tight. “Well, if we’re going to be the center of attention, we might as well look our best, eh Nessa?” Patrick commented.

Strutting “their” stuff, Vanessa/Patrick walked down along the mall corridors, getting admiring stares and glances as they did. “You sure are popular Vanessa. No wonder you’re a stuck-up little bitch.” Vanessa ground her teeth once more, stifling her instinct to snap back at the little bastard at the insult. Coming around a corner, Vanessa could see a little old man setting in front of a large leather chair up on a pedestal. As Patrick had her walk closer, she realized he was a shoe shiner.

Apparently, Patrick recognized this at around the same moment. “Hmmmm, a shoe shiner?” Vanessa felt her body come to a stop. Patrick had each of her hands grab the sides of her skirt and lift them up ever so slightly, lifting her right foot up off the ground as they did so to get a good look at the black leather boot fused to her leg. “You know, we owe these awesome boots for all of the fun we’re having. I think we should get them shined.” “Can’t we just buy the crap you want and get out of here?” Vanessa spat under her breath, rapidly loosing patience. “We’ll do whatever I want Vanessa dear.” Patrick responded in her mind. “Or, do I need to remind you exactly who is in the drivers seat here?”

Shuddering at the thought of what humiliations he could subject her to, Vanessa answered quickly. “No-no. Let’s go ahead and get them shined.” “That’s better.” he answered warmly.

Vanessa walked on over to the shoe shine stall, hips swaying once more. Hearing her boot-steps, the old man turned around and took his hat off. Eyes wide for a moment upon seeing the sexy young woman, he quickly made every effort to regain his composure. “H-hello there young lady! What can I help you with?” he asked, almost stammering. Vanessa tilted her head as Patrick gave her his orders, almost as if listening to a real, audible voice. Looking back down at the shorter old man she said, “I was wondering if you could shine these boots for me sir?” She gestured down at the leather high-heeled boots on her feet.

Taking a big gulp, the old man began to scramble for his rags and polish. “Sure!! I’d be happy to give those nice boots of yours a fine shine!” He said, gesturing for her to sit down.

Patrick had Vanessa step up onto the pedestal, turning her around and sitting down as she did so. Extending her right leg out, Patrick had Vanessa put her boot heel up on the small bar in front of her so the old man could start to shine. As Vanessa sat there, the old man began to polish away at the black leather surface of her boot, dabbing polish on in small counterclockwise motions. With slow, steady movements, the old fellow shined away, giving the boot a lovely sheen. As Vanessa watched him, unable to do anything else, she found herself sickened by the irony of being forced to watch the old man give tender loving care to the objects that had made her Patrick’s slave. The damn boots had made her a passenger in her own body, forced to set back and watch Patrick dictate all of her actions, and she was having to watch the old man clean them.

As the old man continued to work, Vanessa watched him, unable to look away. Looking at this face, she began to notice his field of vision changing occasionally. Every few seconds, the old man would glance up from the boot, casting his eyes upward toward Vanessa’s legs. His eyes would twinkle at each glimpse of her lovely lower limbs, now clad in the black and gray diamond pattern tights. “Hey…, I think Gramps is enjoying the view!” Patrick chuckled in her head. “The old boy still has some lead in the pencil, eh Nessa? Let’s give him a better view.” Vanessa felt her hands reach down to the hem of her short skirt. To her horror, she watched as Patrick forced her to pull the skirt back until it was high up on her thigh, giving the old man a fantastic view of her legs and the front of her panties. “Oh God…stop…” Vanessa whispered.

“What was that dear…” the old man asked as he glanced up once more at her. His eyes went wide upon seeing the show before him. “This’ll stop when I want it to and no sooner Vanessa.” Patrick said icily within her mind. “Uh…I said…don’t stop.” Vanessa answered the old man. It was a humiliating situation, but she had no doubt that Patrick could make it much worse for her.

A smile crossing his face, the old man drank in the sight of Vanessa’s lovely legs before him. “Oh…other leg dear?” he asked, breathing a little more rapidly than he had.

Vanessa fought back tears as she felt Patrick pull her right booted leg back, and place the left one forward. The old man proceeded to shine it just as he did it’s opposite boot. With a broad, appreciative grin, he glanced up frequently, appreciating the show the young woman had been forced to put on for him.

After a few minutes, Vanessa stepped down and paid the old fellow for his efforts. Patrick forced her to give him a demure “thank-you” before heading on her way. “Man, even an old fossil like that gets turned on by you Nessa.” Patrick laughed in her thoughts. For the next two hours, Patrick marched Vanessa’s body around the mall, going from shop to shop. Powerless to do otherwise, Vanessa could only watch and comment as Patrick ordered her too. Video games and systems, books, Cds, and gadgets from one of those corporate toy stores were rapidly charged to Vanessa’s credit cards. Each product was purchased and directed to be delivered to Patrick’s home address.

As Patrick had Vanessa’s body walk her back out into the parking lot and toward her car, he mentally spoke once more; “This has been a great day. I think I made some nice choices in there, don’t you?” he giggled. “You got the stuff you wanted. Now, will you get out of my head and get these god-damn boots off of me?” Vanessa said with equal parts anger and desperation.

“Soon, very soon.” Patrick answered. Suddenly, boot after boot, Patrick began to have Vanessa skip to the car as merrily as a schoolgirl back to her car. Vanessa’s eyes grew teary in frustration once more. “These boots, and I will be with you for just a little longer.” Patrick’s laughter echoed back and forth inside Vanessa’s head as he had her get back into her SUV.