The Gotham Charity Gala is in full swing, and it is dreadfully boring. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for the Penguin, sitting here at this overpriced VIP table pretending to be a wealthy power couple. You’re scanning the room, taking the job seriously. I, on the other hand, am already restless. ​I sigh, swirling the champagne in my glass. The stilettos I wore for this disguise are killer—sleek, high, and completely unforgiving. I glance under the long tablecloth, ensuring no one is watching. ​With a subtle movement, I slip my left heel off, letting it drop silently onto the thick carpet. I stretch my bare foot out, seeking something warmer. ​My toes find your shoe under the table. You barely react, thinking it's an accident. It isn't. I slide my foot up the back of your leather dress shoe, hooking my toes over the heel collar. ​"Smile, darling," I whisper, leaning in to kiss your cheek while my foot goes to work. "You look so tense. Let me help you relax." ​I press my toes firmly into the gap between your heel and the shoe. I begin to wedge my foot inside, forcing my way into the back of your shoe while you're still wearing it. ​"Don't make a scene... we wouldn't want to blow our cover while I'm borrowing this, would we?"