About the Author Sophia Holder graduated from the University of Southampton in 1998 with an upper second B.Sc. Hons. in maths and French. She is now living in Costa Rica teaching English as a foreign language. She has been writing seriously for 2 years. As a teacher, she enjoys observing people and writing about strong emotions, the absurd and impossible. She has written a number of other short stories in the experimental genre. This collection of stories are her fist in Nuvein.

Rich, bejeweled, sleek, expensive and sexy. No girl ever walks past me without having a long stare. They know that no skirt could look better with any other pair.

I always had my favorites standing there in the shop window while my brothers and cousins flew off the shelves like there was no tomorrow. And she was my first love. A long, slinky, elegant braided black dress. We looked stunning together and it was a happy time, standing there on the mannequin- up on a pedestal where I belong. Being quite a philanderer I rather enjoyed being admired by any number of drooling women and their ever tolerant boyfriends and husbands.

But I knew that it was simply a question of time before either she or I would be sold. I couldn’t bear the idea of parting with Slinky and her sisters.

A few weeks enjoyable weeks on, I discovered that I had been worrying over nothing. They put the new girl on stock cupboard and she didn’t purchase enough skirts or shoes. A beautiful and dramatic girl entered, filling the store with her arrogant energy. She stopped in front of us, and held Slinks up against her curvaceous body.

“Oh yes I’ll try this one. What about the shoes?”
“I’m afraid we’re out of them.”
”I’ll take your display pair.”

To my delight, she tried me on together with Slinky. It felt warm and soft being against a real person rather than a cold lifeless doll. Slinks and I were happy with the situation and we looked wonderful on this gorgeous, shapely girl, who held herself well, walked with style, and moved with grace and elegance.

She took us home, and when we entered the cupboard I was not prepared for what I saw. At least 50 other pairs of shoes, all equally beautiful, sexy and original in design. All wolf-whistling and jiving when the caught an eyeful of Slinks.

“Excuse me” I said “Would you have some respect. She’s with me.”
“Sorry pal – all’s fair game in this wardrobe.”
“Not a chance. We’ve been together over a month – tell them Slinks.”
But my playful Slinky said nothing and gave the pairs a seductive flutter as she was hung up in the cupboard. I was laid on the floor below.

Later in the evening, when the girl slipped Slinky onto her fine body to show her partner, I looked up, waiting for her to skip into her new stilettos.

“Erm – which shoes d’you think?”
“I’d say those ones with the straps at the front!”
“Yes ok –I’ll give you a twirl.”

I watched in horror as the girl’s boyfriend teamed Slinky up with a different pair of shoes. I wanted to break his heels – who the hell did he think he was? But Slinky didn’t mind. She seemed equally happy and looked just as good without me.

The strappy pair began to antagonize me. “The girl’s got a party tomorrow night – looks like I’ll be the lucky pair accompanying Slinky.”

I felt dejected and depressed and violently angry. But there was nothing I could do. And I kept quiet all night, trying to block out what the pairs were murmuring about my sweetheart.

The following day, the girl took Slinky out of the wardrobe. I ignored the strappy shoes’ smug smiles. The girl took out 3 pairs of shoes to try on with Slinky. I looked Slinks up and down adoringly. Although she was in her element receiving all this attention, I could see it was me that she really wanted. I was better looking than the other pairs. I made myself glow and could feel my leather shining as the girl looked down at me. And I was the pair the girl chose! I accompanied Slinky to the ball. We danced until dawn and looked stunning together.

When we returned, Slinks hailed me King of the Cupboard, all of the other shoes looked up to me and envied me. As a natural leader I reveled in my new role.

Until a couple of days later, when a new pair arrived. They were very similar in style to me, but with more sparkle, sheen and glitter. I instantly knew – I knew right away that Slinks would prefer this pair to me – so similar to me and although I was more elegant, this pair was more glamorous. There was instant conflict between me and the new pair. We both wanted to be king of the shoes.

We all knew that the girl was going to a special ball the following evening and assumed that I would accompany Slinky again.

This new arrival changed things. “You never know” the new pair snarled at me aggressively, “the girl might not even take Slinky.”
“She’ll take Slinky – and I’m going with her.”
“Nah chance- you saw Slinks with me – made for each other we was.”

Fortunately for both of us, neither of us can move unless attached to a foot, otherwise all of the shoes in the cupboard would have felt my attack.

It was about 5 o’clock when the girl tried Slinky on with myself and the other pair in order to chose between us. Did she want fashion or class, pazang or elegance? All of the other shoes stood in a row watching with excitement and anticipation.

There was no loyalty there, they just wanted to see the showdown. To my horror, the girl chose the other pair. And I was abandoned in the corner of the room, not even put away. The wardrobe was left open and I could feel the shoes watching my backs with their half smug, half pitying expressions.

I stayed awake all night waiting for Slinks to get home. At 5.30am, I heard the girl stomp up the stairs. The delicate thuds those pin like heels usually made sounded more clumsy and less rhythmical. The girl got in and kicked off the shoes with a total lack of respect, into the corner where I was standing. To my sheer delight, I saw that they were ruined. One of the heels was broken off the sole of the shoe, the lining had come apart, the glitter was now matt, and they were covered with mud.

“Sign of a poor workman,” I gloated.
“Get stuffed. You wait till you see what’s happened to your precious Slinky.”
“What – what have you done? Why weren’t you looking after her?”
“It weren’t my fault – that girl – she’s mad.”
“Yeah – I bloody know – but I’ve got balance and decorum. You’re just cheap tat and if you’ve hurt my Slinks I’ll…”

The girl came into view and I saw Slinky. She was torn in the skirt, and I could see that not even a top dress maker would be able to repair her. She looked crushed when she saw me, looking at her sympathetically. I fell out of love with her immediately, and although I missed her initially, I never wanted to be with her again.

A couple of days later, I’d forgotten about Slinky and teamed up with a pair of funky jeans. We got on well together and she showed me a good time. Sometimes if I wanted less fun but more class, I got together with smart trousers, sometimes I got it on with the odd skirt – one of them was very odd! But my jeans didn’t mind, and I didn’t get jealous when she went off with the trainers.

After about a year of fun, I felt tired, and knew I had had my heyday. The girl took me to Oxfam. It felt a little degrading, but I consoled myself with the fact that it was for charity, and that I was far more dazzling than anything else on the shelves.

I wasn’t sparkling in the display window for long when in she came! A stunning, beautiful, elegant and soft, long tight A-line skirt, completely unpretentious and understated. We fell in love as soon as we laid eyes on each other.

The girl slipped her feet into me and squealed with delight as she saw how striking A-line and I looked together.

And thus I found love. And had a long lasting deep relationship, after a year or so being footloose and fancy free.