Frosty Customer-Mistress

On a dark, cold and frosty night on the sink estate, a pretty customer-mistress largely ignores me as she pops out of her nearby flat for a quick cigarette, before heading back into the warmth, and no doubt the loving bosom of her manly boyfriend or husband.

She does do me the inestimable honour of letting me kiss-respect her boots after she has finished her cigarette, but she says not one word to me throughout our all too brief, frosty encounter. That's because she is better than me and too good to converse with the likes of me - a lowly, public humble-head slave.

On a cold and frosty evening on the sink estate, a cold and frosty local resident has stepped outside for a quick fag

She doesn't speak to me. And nor should she. I'm just the garbage at her feet.

I can't help taking the lowly opportunity to study the backs of her socks whilst her own pretty back is turned on me

I am permitted, by Law, to study my customers' socks...

Their socks represent the upper limits of my menial mind

My puny brain, you see, is considered incapable of comprehending anything more complex than a sock!

It's true that I am totally mesmerised by the intricacies in the stitching of the frosty customer-mistress's pure, white socktop

Of course, I am unable to view the rest of her sock - only the top - but it does at least give me a flavour of what the rest of her sock must look like, deep inside her warm boot!

Oh to be a young woman's sock! To live deep inside the comforting warmth of her stylish, black leather ankleboot!

Unfortunately, though, I could never be worthy enough to be her sock!

She knows it, even if her pretty mind is currently on much higher things than her socks...

...such as her plans for how she will spend tomorrow with her live-in boyfriend

They might go to the cinema!

It's their choice - for, unlike me, they are free human beings. I won't be going anywhere!

Having finished her cigarette, the customer-mistress, silently, presents her boots to my feckless face for kiss-respecting

One after the other

Her superior sock is now even closer to my inferior face!

What an honour - to kiss the boots of a beautiful smoker...

...and to be lorded over by her socks!

The boots and socks silently turn to walk away from me...

...abandoning me to my cold and lonely fate

The only sound is of gravel crunching on the dirty, frosty ground as the pretty customer-mistress walks away along the sink-estate pavement

She doesn't give a damn about me

She has forgotten about me already

I'm just a sink-estate thing that kisses boots...

...and looks up to his customers' socks...

...when he has the chance!

My humbling view of the cold and frosty customer-mistress's departing boots and socks

 

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