Lacy Socks

Regular customer-master, master Simon sir, asks me how I am liking the sight of his wife’s lacy, white cotton anklesocks beneath her blue, denim jean hems as I kiss-worship her dirty sneakers?

I humbly reply by first of all thanking the master-sir kindly for his gracious enquiry, and then proceed to assure the magnificent master-sir that I admire his beautiful wife’s choice of sock very much, if it would be so pleasing to the master-sir?

Master Simon sir laughs out loud at my obsequious and slavish response, whilst his wife, regular customer-mistress miss Mukta madam, has a wry grin on her pretty, Indian face.


As the couple eventually turn to walk away from me in triumph, I am left staring at the backs of those selfsame, lacy white anklesocks that have been the source of my humiliation, and I contemplate how I am the public slave of female sneakers and socks.













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