As she worked on his shoes, she slowly felt strange feelings rise within her. Familiar, but strange. As her jacket was getting messier and messier, as she felt sweat rolling down her forehead, locks of hair clinging to the skin, as she kept servicing his sneakers, she was feeling… satisfaction, pride at a job well done. And there was more to it, she realized. Vivienne felt slightly aroused at performing this thankless, humiliating act of service. Trevor was an attractive young man, and he radiated an aura of confidence; the fact that he was younger than her added a certain kind of spice to it. She wondered if he’d ever notice that his shoes miraculously got cleaner.
Maybe he’d notice right before he went out with a date. As he groomed himself. Then he’d walk around with a woman, a normal-sized woman, someone who’d be able to satisfy him, and his shoes would be clean, because Vivienne shined them for him with her jacket, because she almost broke her back doing so without him ever knowing…
“What am I thinking?”
She recoiled, biting her lip, cursing herself under her breath. She’d just discovered a new side to herself. And it was pretty creepy. Wasn’t it?
“It’s just shoes. And it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”
Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps she could simply keep at it. Just don’t overdo it, Viv, and don’t be too obvious. The guy’s unhappy with your teaching style; maybe it’s your way of paying it back to him. Shine his shoes.
“But why am I enjoying it so much?”
She wouldn’t be able to explain. But she was tiny, on the floor, unnoticed, unloved, alone — and she was here with a handsome guy, and she could be close to him. In a humiliating way.
“It’s fun. Maybe that’s all that matters”.
And god knows it’s been a while since she’d truly had some fun. This, though? It felt like the right thing to do, but it also felt exciting. Like a part of herself she’d never known about — and could get in touch with now.
Who would judge her? Aside from herself?
She took a break, breathing heavily and taking a step back. She’d really done some good work on the sides of his shoes. Her jacket was rubbed thin in some places; it felt heavy with the grime and dirt she’d taken off Trevor’s sneakers. And she really only had access to the tips of his shoes, she was far too chickenshit to go around to the heels. How long would it take her to really clean them? Hours, probably. Hours and hours. She imagined herself actually doing that — shining his shoes… maybe dress shoes, elegant, black leather, shining silver buckles… for hours on end. His little shoe cleaner. The very thought had a classy appeal to it; a young man with a bright future, a shrunken girl to prop him up…
“It’s something I can actually do”, she thought suddenly. “It’s something I can really be useful with”. And it was true. Ever since Viv had shrunk, someone else always had to take care of her. She was always the helpless one. The needy one. The one whom the normal-sized people had to look out for, so as not to accidentally flatten her. But she could care for someone, too. Help someone. In a pathetic way, but a symbolic one…
Trevor’s legs moved as he stretched them, and she shook off her thoughts as she jumped to the side in fear of getting hit. But it was fine. She wasn’t in danger.
But now Trevor crossed his legs in ankles, right over left. His left foot was ever so slightly off the ground in the ball section. His right… his right hung over it, exposing the whole length of the rubber sole, heel to toe. Vivienne gasped before walking over to get a better look.
Yes, the sole of his shoe was presented to her in all its glory — rubbery, thick, clearly worn with tread flattened and rubbed off, and it was incredibly grimy, blackened by the street dirt and pieces of debris, from chunks of gravel to sand, lint, trash and, like a fucked-up cherry on top, a flattened, discoloured chewing gum.
Vivienne looked at her poor jacket and pondered on what to do next.