Her Socks Are My Life (i)

It’s always a great thrill when regular customer-mistress, Ms Mukta Madam, comes a-calling, because her socks are my life!

Today she is wearing her familiar, and truly magnificent, pair of dark blue anklesocks inside her ubiquitous, street-filthy sneakers. It is only if you are up close and personal with the sock, as I am now, that you can observe lots of tiny little pink flecks in the pattern – pink flecks which, on even closer inspection when you focus your mesmerised eyes, turn out to be hundreds of little, pink lovehearts!

The lovehearts are not for me, of course! Customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam is not in love with me! Ha! Ha! Quite the opposite –  she utterly despises me. No, I imagine they are declaring her love for her manly husband, master Simon Sir. And rightly so, for he is a much better man than I could ever hope to be! But I am soimpressed and enamoured by Ms Mukta Madam’s blue and pink socks that I feel I must tell her, in between my public kisses to her dirty sneaker-toe, just how much I admire them! (I couldn’t do this with every customer-mistress – only those few who, like Ms Mukta, I know to be kind and indulgent female souls when it comes to the pathetic obsessions of public footservants like me!).

Predictably, after I have eulogised her socks, she laughs at me and my pathetic adulation of her inner footwear, and informs me the socks came as part of a bargain pack of 6 pairs of socks for just 3 Fems! She also, kindly, promises to wear the other socks in the pack throughout the coming days so that I can see them all. She gleefully tells me they are all different patterns and colours! I thank Ms Mukta Madam kindly for her feminine sock-kindliness towards me.

And with that she turns her back on me and leaves.


















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