Slow Day
It had been a slow afternoon, customer-wise, but fortunately, after hours of seeing no-one, a bright and intelligent young woman comes along requiring a lick and a shine of her filthy sneakers, so I can at last put my slave-tongue to good use!
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| My salvation from a boring afternoon... |
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| ...a bright young woman of the Gynarchy confidently approaches me! |
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| She doesn't say much: 'Lick 'em, boy!' |
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| But that's all I need to know... |
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| ...she wants her sneakers lickshined, and not just kiss-respected! |
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| I therefore taste where she has been... |
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| ...whilst she looks down on me from on high... |
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| ...hands positioned dominantly on hips... |
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| ...and her cigarette inside her pretty mouth! |
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| She continues to enjoy her cigarette as I taste her vile sneaker-dirt |
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| Not for me the sweet taste of nicotine. My mouth only ever tastes dirt! |
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| All too soon (for my liking) she turns and leaves... |
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| ...without saying another word! |
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| Her face, though, says it all.. |
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| ...she knows she is my superior! |
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| Even her socks are superior to me! |
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| Which is why my menial mouth is now filled with her sneaker dirt... |
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| ...which is where such hallowed dirt belongs |
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| I only wish I could have got more of the hallowed dirt off! |


















