Disclaimer: Aaron's. And John Wells' too, I suppose -hack.
Author's Notes: Yet another AU. Also, as always, props to Rowing Goddess for beta-ing.
Shoes
By Lizka
Carefully lifting one long leg, Donna studied the effect of that particular shoe with her dress. Hmm. Not bad. She lifted the hem of her skirt carefully, put her right foot down and raised her left leg in a stork-like movement.
Definitely not.
As Donna carefully put the first pair into the "maybe" pile and the second pair in the "no-way-in-hell" pile, she decided – not for the first time – that men had it much easier than women when it came to wardrobe, especially for formal functions. After all, what (straight) man complained that another man was wearing the same tux as he?
Women, on the other hand, had to make sure that the dress they wore would not be repeated in the room. No lines could show, it had to fit just right, and if the skirt was long, the length had to correlate with the height of the shoes to avoid any embarrassing accidents.
Which brought her to her current dilemma. After an unfortunate incident that afternoon involving her music stand, her cat, and the entire works of Jane Austen, the left shoe of the pair that she had purchased specifically for this event was decidedly heel-less, leaving her now to scour her closet for a suitable replacement. Closed toe or open toe? Flats or stillettoes? Straps, no straps, pointed toe, square toe, patent leather or satin, these were the things that she had to consider. She was sure that most men did not have to make choices like these.
No straight, non-cross-dressing men, anyway.
God, she hoped that this one wasn't gay. One would think that after Julliard and encountering countless smart, funny, well-groomed and polite men that Donna would be more adept at separating the gay from the simply metrosexual, but no. She was just as clueless now as she was when Jay, her first boyfriend in New York, came out. She still talked to Jay. He was very happy; living with a very nice man named Adam, and doing off-Broadway shows. She hoped that she would be invited to the civil union ceremony.
Please, please, let this one not be gay. Really, the last thing she needed after moving to DC (where she knew no one), joining the National Symphony Orchestra (where she was definitely low on the totem pole as the new piccolo player), and moving into her new apartment (which she still hadn't furnished fully) would be to find out that her newest boyfriend was coming out of the closet.
He was funny. He was smart. He was cute. He was also a bit of a geek, but it worked for him. Great butt. He worked for the government, but in this town, it was tough to find a man who didn't. It didn't really matter that he worked incredibly long hours; she wasn't looking for a commitment.
Now all she needed to do was find a pair of shoes.
Someone knocked on the door, interrupting Donna's careful selection.
"It's me," a voice called out from beyond the door.
Damn. He was on time.
Lifting the hem of her dress, she walked barefoot to let in her date. "Hey Sam," she said brightly as she ushered him inside. "No international crises held you up?"
"Nope," Sam grinned. He had a great smile. "We got lucky. Hey, are you ready yet?"
"Not yet," Donna answered. "I still have to pick out a pair of shoes." She paused. "You wouldn't have any suggestions, would you? This is my first time at the White House, after all, and I want to do things right."
She smiled inwardly at his look of panic.
"Uh, no. I don't know how women decide these things." Sam shrugged helplessly.
"That's too bad. Just give me a minute to decide, OK?" Donna turned and walked back into her bedroom, careful not to let Sam see her grin.
No shoe sense. Excellent.
"Are the black pumps all right?"
