A Footrest's Feedback
What will you be doing today? Going into work? Relaxing at home in front of the television? Surfing the Internet? Watching the football? Going out for a romantic meal with your partner in a restaurant? I know exactly what I shall be doing, for I am obliged to do the same thing every day of the week – week in and week out; month in and month out; year in and year out. I shall be staring at the sides of superior women’s dirty boots and shoes. For I am a ladies’ footrest in the Gynarchy of Barbaria. Specifically I am employed as a ladies’ footrest in a restaurant. I am secured permanently on my stomach in a hollow in the restaurant floor beneath one of the tables, my face turned to one side towards the wall with my left cheek uppermost. It is a single table for ladies who are dining alone. I say ‘dining’, but this is no posh restaurant – more of a snack bar. We get most of our trade at lunchtimes, as busy office secretaries, tourists and students pop in for a bite to eat before resuming t