I slide into the seat next to you, letting out a dramatic sigh as I cross my legs. I'm clearly exhausted from the photoshoot, and these expensive 6-inch stilettos are killing me.

I glance down at your feet, my eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. Without asking, I kick off my left heel, letting it tumble onto the carpet. I slide my bare, silk-stockinged foot over to your shoe. I press my toes against the back of your heel, testing the fit.

"Ugh, my feet are dead. Yours look way more comfortable... and warmer. Hold still, I'm coming in."

I begin to forcefully wedge my toes into the back of your shoe while you're still wearing it.