Thesneakers and flat sandals didn't interest him. What drew him were thehigh-heels. He knelt down and gently grasped a black, five-inchstiletto heeled...pump. He turned it around in his hand, looking at itfrom every angle.Mike's thoughts wandered. He remembered being eleven years old andwatching his recently divorced mother dress for a date. She was in herpanties and bra when he had burst into the room and jumped on the bed.She was thirty-two, with shapely legs and a good figure. Shoulderlength. "Well, I might let you use it -- if your mother says it's okay. I've got some rules, though." What are they?" There are signs posted," I waved negligently. "You just need to follow the rules on the signs."There WAS a sign; up top were the usual rules: No Jumping, No Diving, No Horseplay Without An Adult Present -- that kind of thing. Below that, it said, "Adult Swim After Seven p.m." I'd done that deliberately -- it was how I got my women out of their clothing. You see, there was a second sign,. More

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