Moody Ms Mukta

Moody Ms Mukta is clearly not in the best of moods this evening. ‘Clean the filth off my sneakers, slave!’ she snaps down at me from on high as she positions her filthy-sneakered foot onto the wooden footblock beneath my face.

She has every right to be in a bad mood, for the weather this evening is foul. I immediately obey her command and start lickshining her shoe. Tonight is most definitely not the night to try to engage Ms Mukta Madam in a conversation about her socks – though I note with relish that she is earing a fetching pair of black and white polka dot socks inside her street-soiled sneakers this evening. Her socks are truly a sight for sore eyes!

When I’ve finished licking both her shoes, she turns and silently walks away from me. Her silence speaks volumes, for it demonstrates her utter, young-womanly contempt for me. I try to console myself by focussing respectfully on the backs of her spotty socks.













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