High Heels & Pink Glitter (the heavily edited version)

A dirty ride

AUTHOR'S NOTE - THIS SCENE CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND ADULT THEMES...

May 2014

Kelly regretted her choice of footwear the moment she shut the gate on her way back from the Murrays' house to Pollokshields train station.

Out of all her uncomfortable shoes—and there were numerous contenders for that title—the clear PVC pumps with their four-inch stiletto heel and narrow toe were the ones that would result in the most blisters the next day.

She waited until she reached the end of the street and leant against the multi-coloured bark plane tree to remove her shoes, figuring out it would be more comfortable, and take less time, to walk barefoot the ten minutes it took to reach to the station than to wear them.

The weather gods smiled on Glasgow, and the pavements were bone dry.

She was heading home from the Murray's pre-summer barbecue. Some time ago, Nell had hit upon the idea of organising a party ahead of the busy festival summer season, so that she and Daniel could thank his staff before work demands swept him up in a whirlwind of non-stop busy-ness.

The party had since become an annual tradition, growing exponentially over the years, when the invitation was extended to family and friends. For various reasons, this year's event seemed determined to rub her single status in her face. Nell's mother-in-law made a point of talking disapprovingly of women who, to use her ghastly, years-out-of-date phraseology, let men 'milk the cow for free without buying', while everyone gathered around Liza, one of Daniel's employees, ooh-ing and ah-ing when she extended her left hand, with its solitaire diamond on the third finger.

Kelly had stayed for as long as was polite—four hours—before making her excuses and fleeing.

"Hey, I've been shouting on you for ages!"

She spun around. Danny's brother, Mark, walked towards her. He must have left the party at the same time. As always, he looked fantastic. Eight years younger than Mark, he shared the same features—the thick dark hair that he kept long at the front, a similar set to the eyes and cheekbones that deserved an Oscar. Each.

His white T'shirt, that little bit too tight, stretched across a muscular chest and shoulders, and the jeans were designer.

Anyone keeping score would concede he was the more attractive of the two brothers, and he had youth on his side, but Danny was an all-round decent bloke and Mark took selfishness to a brand new level, as Nell so often warned her.

He extracted two cans of ice-cold lager from his blue plastic bag. "Want one?"

"Okay, then." She transferred both shoes into one hand and accepted the can on which he'd already pulled the tab.

He gestured towards her feet. "Are ye no' worried about stepping in dog shit?"

"Nope. This isn't my first rodeo. I'm a keeping-my-eyes-peeled-for-dog-do expert."

"Fair do's." He slotted alongside her, natural as can be.

A small child bolted along the street, closely followed by a red-faced, plump woman in her thirties. "Cameron! Come back here this instant! You wee shite!"

She came to a halt as soon as she saw Kelly and Mark. "'Scuse me, but the little git just bit one o' Sarah's weans."

Nicky, married to Joe, the man Nell referred to as her husband's 'work wife'.

Cameron had taken advantage of the distraction and dashed back towards the Murray's home. His mother hare-footed after him.

"Joe and Nicky's weans are the greatest advert for contraception there's even been," Mark remarked, turning to watch Cameron's skilful avoidance of his mother's chase.