Well Wrapped Up
It’s a bitterly cold winter’s day, that’s for sure. There is even a light dusting of snow on the alleyway ground. Needless to say, my humble head is completely exposed to the elements – as it should be. But I’m pleased to see that the pretty customer-mistress is well wrapped up against the cold.
Most importantly of all, I can just see that she is wearing thick, purple socks inside her boots, which is good as they will undoubtedly help to keep her precious feet and ankles warm – though I am a bit concerned about the exposure of a tiny slither of her bare legskin just above the sock. I very much wish she would permit to breathe warm air onto her exposed ankle skin so that I could warm it up for her.
But, to be fair, the young woman doesn’t seem that bothered by it, and so I merely continue to lickshine her boot – though that is something of a thankless task with a pair of boots in this dirt-ingrained condition. I suppose I can forgive her the state of her boots, given the awful weather conditions we are experiencing.
She eventually walks away from me without so much as a by your leave. Well, I said it was a thankless task!
NB: In walking haughtily away from a lowly, head-in-the-wall public footservant like me, and showing him a clean (or, as in this case, still dirty) pair of heels, a bright and attractive, young woman such as this is nevertheless saying a number of unspoken things to me:
· She is demonstrating her complete and utter, young-womanly contempt for me, and her lack of any sweet feminine compassion for my precarious predicament – for she has just used me to clean her boots, and now she is indicating by her female body language that she doesn’t give a damn about me (and rightly so)
· She is walking away in the full knowledge that my pathetic footslave eyes will still be glued to the backs of her boots – the same boots whose vile, bitter taste still lingers in my mouth – because she knows I very much admire both them and her
· She knows too that I am powerless and impotent to follow her, and must rely on her good grace to honour me with her presence once more. Will she ever return? Only she knows!
· Lording it over me has made her feel horny, and so she is now purposefully walking back to her warm and cosy, nearby apartment where, no doubt, her handsome boyfriend awaits her – ready and eager to engage in mutually gratifying sexual intercourse with her (I’m jealous of him – not because he is about to have sex with this lovely young woman, but because he will get to see her purple bootsocks in all their glory – lying crumpled up and hastily discarded on the bedroom floor. I only got to see the elasticated tops of her socks! Mind you, I don’t expect the free male will be in the slightest bit interested in his blonde girlfriends discarded socks; he’s not a slave like me!)
· The bright blonde sniggers internally at the thought that I am not about to have sex with anyone. I shall remain cold and limp out here on the street – immured in my brick body-prison with just my ugly head exposed, pining after the memory of her boots and socks, and ready, as ever, to lickserve the snow-soiled shoes or boots of the next customer mistress or master who happens along.
· She is hoping it will snow again on me, for she likes the snow – when viewed from inside a nice, warm apartment bed shared with her manly boyfriend. She doesn’t particularly like being out in the snow herself – but at least she has a choice in the matter. Unlike me.
Yes, all of these thoughts are racing through the beanie-hatted customer mistress’s pretty, bleached blonde head as she triumphantly walks away from me. She is also wondering, incidentally, whether her boyfriend needs any more condoms from the chemist’s, for it’s important that he too is ‘well wrapped up’!
