In The Kind Company of her Boots & Socks
It’s 4 A.M. on a bitterly cold morning. I can’t sleep because of the cold. Fortunately, another insomniac – local goddess-mistress and regular customer Ms Arabella madam – has popped out of her warm and cosy flat for a quick cigarette and a lickshine of her boots. As you can see, she is well wrapped up against the cold.
As I lick her black leather kneeboots to a shine, she mocks me and asks me if I am enjoying the cold? I humbly reply that I like it, but not that much, if she would be so kind and understanding, thanking her kindly for her kind question (I have to be subservient in my responses to Ms Arabella madam as otherwise she might beat me).
She laughs at me and asks me if I would like to know what type of socks she is swearing inside her stylish kneeboots? I humbly reply that I yearn to know what type of socks she is wearing inside her boots, since her socks are my life. She therefore kindly informs me they are black, thick-ribbed cotton anklesocks with a white trim and white toe and heel areas, though she admits the white areas are a bit faded and grubby thanks to repeated wear and tear. She goes on to explain that she had been wearing this same pair of socks all day yesterday inside her boots and had simply put them on her feet again this morning when she couldn’t sleep and fancied popping out for a cigarette, as the socks were lying to hand on her bedroom floor – all crumpled up and ready for the wash. She mockingly expresses the hope that I can’t smell them through her boots, as she gleefully informs me they are ‘a bit stale and stinky’! I reassure kind mistress Arabella madam that I cannot smell her socks – more’s the pity! However I politely inform her that the leather of her boots smells fantastic!
Again she laughs at me, and I consider myself lucky to be in the company of such a warm and kind human being as Ms Arabella madam, and her boots and socks, on such a cold and frosty night – even if I can’t see or smell the socks, and only have her word about them.
All too soon, she triumphantly turns and leaves me behind in the cold, night air with the bitter taste of her black bootleather lingering inside my mouth and the warm image of her black and white anklesocks emblazoned on my menial, shivering mind. A truly superb young woman, who is my infinite better. I’m just a pathetic humble head!