MONICA
As Monica tossed and turned on the floor of her inner sanctum, she dreamed about
a faceless man with the voice of J.T. Higgins. He strolled into her bedroom and cavalierly
pressed the hidden control for the closet. As he moved toward the opening, she lunged
at him and yelled: No!
She flung her arm outwards and slammed it against the corner of a shelf. Ouch! Opening
her eyes, she surveyed her wrinkled clothes and stiffened body as the odd sensation
that this man could see inside her hidden secrets stirred wildly within her belly.
Oh, thank God I was just dreaming. What if he really found out?
Her passion for shoes had started out so innocently, with that first tiny pair of
black patent leather tap shoes. As she glanced toward their place of honor near the
center of the roo
