Friends have told me that they knew their mate was the one for them for various reasons.

“She had such a beautiful smile,” said a coworker. “He was always offering to help me out. Help me move. Pick me up from the airport,” said my college roommate. What laced me to Tommy? Although I’m sure he would have picked me up from the airport had I ever needed a lift and I do adore his smile, our love was built from the ground level up.

See, it was shoes.

Specifically, my shoes.

I’ve always possessed quite a shoe collection. I enjoy matching the perfect pair to every outfit, and I take my time to do so. While women often give me props for my fabulous footwear, most men haven’t ever seemed to take much notice. Not until Tommy.

He started out by complimenting me whenever I wore a fancy pair of heels. “Love those shoes, Sheila,” he’d say when he passed me in the hall. There wasn’t anything untoward about the comments, nothing overtly flirtatious. He simply seemed to be a fan of my fierce footwear. I began to look forward to seeing his reaction to my various choices. Then I started to take note. I work with numbers, and I began to recognize a pattern.

Yes, he seemed to like all heels. But some heels won more oohs than others. And while he never let a pair of spectator pumps go by without an affectionate nod, all red shoes won a more elated reaction. I paid attention. Was it any red shoe? The loafers received a small smile, but the scarlet snake-print boots made his eyes seem to glow. He definitely liked those the best.

I began to imagine that he was in the room with me whenever I got dressed. Would Tommy like these shoes or those ones? Would he think the zippers on the ankle-high leopard-print booties were as sexy as I did? Or was he more of a buckle-me-up man?

My imagination started taking detailed detours. I no longer simply pictured Tommy offering me fashion advice. I actually began to think about him fucking me while I had on my different pairs of shoes. Would my slingbacks make him want to do me from behind? Would my classic cowboy boots create a desire in him for reverse cowgirl?

Finally, I decided to make the first move. I know a traditional date might begin at the movies or possibly with drinks or dinner. But I didn’t want to waste my time. I decided to ask Tommy to go with me to a sale at my favorite shoe store. By this point, I knew I could count on him to let me know what he thought worked best. However, on my way to his office, I worried a little. What if discussing my shoes was his way of making small talk? What if he had no real interest in footwear, but was only tired of discussing the weather?

Then I remembered the way he’d momentarily lose his ability to speak when I’d worn the purple suede boots with the studded heels. Taking a stand, I stomped on those fears and came right out in the open with my desires. I said, “Tommy, there’s a sale at a store around the corner from here. A shoe sale. And I was wondering if you might… ”

“I might,” he said before I had to continue. “I mean, I do. I would love to. I’d love to come.”

He looked aghast at what he’d said, embarrassed at his exuberant reaction, but excited nonetheless. I was extremely relieved, and we settled on a time after work, and I returned to my desk. He was as jittery as I was, I realized. We were similar in so many ways. We matched.

When we met after work at the shoe store, we walked slowly around the first display. As we talked, we grew more comfortable with each other. I’d hold up a shoe, and he’d nod or shake his head. He’d lead me to one that he liked, and I’d do the same. The truth was there weren’t many that we didn’t agree on. Suddenly, he led me to a pair of boots.

“These are the best,” he said. “Out of all of them. Don’t you think?”

I nodded. I’d been right! Boots were Tommy’s ultimate. These had a heel and a silver zipper. They hugged the calf becomingly and reached almost to the knee.

“What color?” I asked, indicating the rainbow of choices. I knew which ones I liked the best. I wondered if we’d agree here, as well. I almost held my breath.

Tommy chose cherry-red; he was definitely a man after my own heart.

I modeled the pair for him, thinking that we’d work our way through the remaining aisles together. Tommy didn’t look as if he’d last more than another box. His voice had grown more gruff. He seemed a little hot under his casual Friday façade.

I paid for my purchase, and outside the store I asked him if he’d like to go home with me. He was hailing us a cab almost before I’d finished speaking. On the ride, he told me exactly what my shoes did to him. “I hear the clicking,” he said, “of your special stride.”

“I have a stride?”

“I could feel him staring at them while he fucked me.”

“You have a beautiful stride.”

I hadn’t known that. “Tell me more,” I said, and I pulled my new boots out of the bag while he spoke. The scent of the leather wafted over the two of us. I stroked one boot. He stroked the other. We looked at each other. Thank goodness I live only a few miles from the store because I think we might have combusted if we had to wait any longer than we did.

When we got to my place, he didn’t even have to say what he wanted. I took off the high heels I’d worn to work and replaced them with my exotic new footwear. Tommy practically growled the words he said next: “I have to fuck you while you wear those boots.”

We made it as far as the living room. Tommy bent me over the couch to start, and he pulled up my dress and lowered my panties. I kept the boots on, of course, and I thought I could feel him staring at them while he fucked me. But I wanted more. I wanted to see the appreciation in his eyes. “Take off your clothes,” I insisted. As he undressed, I did the same, leaving on only my thigh-high stockings and boots. I moved us so that he was on his back on the rug, and then I settled myself astride him. I pushed up and down on his cock while he told me all about his shoe fetish, one that had always been rumbling around inside him, but one that I’d apparently kick-started into full drive.

“There was this pair,” he said. “You wore them last spring. Turquoise high heels. They made the most erotic sound when you walked down the hall, I had to look out and see. Then as soon as I caught sight of those beauties, well, I wanted more.”

I knew exactly the shoes he was talking about. They’d had the same powerful effect on me. At least, almost.

“I jacked off that night, thinking about you wearing those shoes. And the next day, I wondered what pair you’d have on. It kind of grew, that desire, the yearning to see your shoes and to see you… ”

All the while I’d been fantasizing about him doing me while I had on my various shoes. Finally, the two of us had gotten together outside of fantasies — lined ourselves up in real life. He fucked me while I was in my new boots, and nothing had ever felt so perfect. Like we were destined to be with each other.

So when friends asked at our wedding how the two of us got together, I said simply and with total honesty, “We were” — I lifted my dress to show off the red boots beneath — “sole mates.”

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