Dinilo

‘Good afternoon, mistress. I trust you are having a pleasant day, miss?’

‘YOU NOT TALK, DIRTY SLAVE. ONLY LICK SANDAL. YOU A WHORE!’

The pretty Romany mistress is not in the mood for a chat, or so it would seem!
I gingerly lower my lips to her pink sandal-straps.

‘YOU NOT TOUCH SOCK. ONLY STRAP!’

‘Yes, mistress. I obey you, mistress. Please don’t hurt me, miss.’

She’s right not to chat to me. She’s too good for me – as is her sock! Carefully, I endeavour to tongue-clean her filthy sandal straps, though my feeble efforts are largely in vain, so deeply is the streetdirt ingrained in them.

No wonder she storms off in disgust, cursing me in the beautiful Romany language. She actually calls me a ‘dinilo’, whatever that means? It certainly doesn’t sound too flattering, judging by the disparaging tone in which she mutters it. And rightly so, for I am nothing but an ineffectual footlicker!

I watch her still filthy, pink sandals walk away from me and hang my humble head in shame. I am a failure. I can only hope that some of her superior, Romany-female foot DNA may have rubbed off on me and will therefore make me a better person!













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