Corporate Confidential — The Day My Hooker Shoes Arrived At The Office ~Part 1

It was just supposed to be a regular Thursday. Staff meeting. Spreadsheet. Sad desk salad.

Until they arrived.

A brown box with no logo and no warning. My new red, lace-up, five-inch platform hooker shoes — stripper boots, really. The kind of shoes that scream, “I do not have to be up early for a quarterly review.”

I’d had them delivered to the office because my neighbors apparently enjoy stealing my packages as a part-time hobby. I figured I’d sneak them home at the end of the day, no big deal.

Except… I couldn’t resist.

The office was quiet. Everyone was at lunch or fake-working in meetings. So I closed my door, slid one shoe out of the box, and—G-d help me—I put it on.

It was like slipping into an alter ego. My boring black pump lay discarded on the floor like a sad ex-boyfriend. I zipped the red boot all the way up, stood up, and felt instantly like I could command armies or possibly swing around a pole and get tuition money thrown at me.

And then… the door opened.

Apparently, I forgot to actually lock it.

Enter: Kyle. From Finance. With two coffees. And the look of a man who just accidentally walked in on his coworker morphing into Jessica Rabbit.

He froze.

I froze.

My leg, half-raised, heel sparkling in the light like a weapon.

Without a word, he carefully set one of the coffees on my desk.

Maintained eye contact with the floor.

And backed out of the room like he was defusing a bomb.

He knocks now.

Every. Single. Time.

About the Author: Megan is a wife, mother, and seasoned voice in the lifestyle community. In her early 40s, she draws on many years of experience to write with both confidence and clarity. As an author and journalist, she combines sharp observation with engaging storytelling. Away from the page, she loves traveling to exotic destinations, exploring new cultures, and finding fresh inspiration for her work.