Luke nodded. “They made me walk all the way home in them too.” he grumbled. “When I went back to the changing rooms only my keys and debit card were in my locker.” he said. “No shirt, no trousers, no shoes or socks! …and do you know what they said?” he asked. “They’ve sent them home by courier!”
“I wondered what the parcel was.” his mother said. “I thought you’d bought something without my permission.”
“It’s here already?!” Luke quizzed. His mother showed him the unopened parcel. The box bore a courier’s sticker that boasted same day fast track guaranteed. “That’s gonna cost a fortune.” he grimaced. “They said the courier costs will be docked from my first pay packet.” he sighed. “And I’ve already had twenty percent of it sacrificed because they reckon I’m incompetent.”
“How can you be incompetent? All you have to do is carry cases.” his mother asked. “I know you’re just a boy but you’re not completely dim.” she said.
“Thanks.” Luke dryly replied. “I’d best get changed. This needs laundering and ironing ready for tomorrow.” he said.
“Oh leave it on for bit.” his mother suggested. “I’m not used to seeing you in servile clothes. They suit you.” she smiled. “Why don’t you go and show your sister.” she said.
“Oh Mu-um do I have to?” Luke groaned.
“Be a good boy and do as you’re told Luke.” his mother said.
Sheepishly, Luke climbed the stairs and his mother watched him take every step. His feet are perched on four inch heels that appear to give him little trouble. His long pale hairless legs appeal her eyes. The short smart fitted tunic suggests a prestigious employer and as he disappears from view, Luke’s mother feels nothing but pride.
Luke took a breath before knocking on his sister’s bedroom door. “Who’s that?” she called.
“It’s me… Luke.” he timidly replied.
“What do you want?”
“Mum told me to show you my er… uniform.” he said through the door. It opened. He gulped.
“Wow look at you!” his sister exclaimed. “And your lips!” she exclaimed. “What colour is that?” she asked.
“Er… Fuchsia Fandango.” Luke awkwardly answered.
“It’s very vivid!” she said. “Don’t you think a little eye make-up wouldn’t go amiss?”
“I haven’t got any.” Luke replied. “They only provide foundation and lipstick.” he informed her.
His sister lowered her eyes. She appeared to be studying his tunic; every stitch and dart, every button, down, down to its embarrassingly short hem. “Can I feel your legs?” she asked.
“No!” Luke said, but she ran her fingers over his hairless thigh anyway.
“Did you shave them?” she asked. “They’re really smooth.”
“It was some cream.” he replied, before moaning about how much it stank and stung.
“Turn around.” she said. Luke sighed and turned. She commented on his footwear. “How are you finding those to walk in?” she asked.
“OK.” he replied. “They were a bit tricky at first but I soon got used to them.”
“Boys do get used to heels quite quickly.” she said. “Apparently it’s because they’re naturally more suited to servile attire.”
“Nothing about this feels natural.” Luke grumbled. His heels are unnaturally high. The tunic feels unusually short. His exposed hairless legs feel unfamiliar and although he can’t see his face, he can feel the foundation clinging to his skin and the slightly tacky paint that coats his lips. “I’ve never felt so unlike myself.“ he moaned.
“That’s because Mum’s too lenient.” his sister claimed. “I think all subordinates should wear servile clothing.” she stated. “If I have a boy he’ll be in heels as soon as he can walk.”
“You can’t put a two year old in heels!” Luke blurted.
“They used to put little girls in heels so there’s no reason why little boys shouldn’t be.” she replied.
