She comes to me with dirty boots; she leaves with clean boots. She does not thank me. Our encounter has been purely transactional - that between a customer-mistress and a slave. She is not my friend, and I have just been doing my humble job.
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| Initially, it's not clear if this passing young woman intends to use me or not |
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| But she stops in front of me; 'Clean my boots, wall-boy!' |
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| 'Yes, mistress. At once mistress!' |
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| I diligently start to lickshine the proffered boot on the concrete footblock beneath my confined face |
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| I'm glad she stopped, for her boots are filthy and could do with a good lick and a shine |
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| I work in silence, since I am forbidden to speak unless spoken to. I'm just a municipal footslave. |
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| I admire her brown sock |
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| She looks down on me with contempt - the dirt beneath her feet |
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| And rightly so, for that's all I am... |
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| ...a dirty licker and tongue-shiner of the public's boots and shoes! |
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| Our transaction of unequals continues in the night-time chill... |
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| ...as she observes my humble tongue at work on her boots |
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| Then suddenly her female voice breaks the silence: 'Shine the uppers as well, wall-boy!' |
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| 'Yes, mistress. At once, mistress madam.' |
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| She kindly helps me to reach the uppers of her ankleboots by twisting her dainty feminine foot around my feckless face |
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| She eventually leaves without saying another word |
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| No words of thanks or praise for my efforts... |
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| ...despite the renewed shininess of her boots. All her erstwhile bootdirt is now deep inside my menial mouth - where it belongs! |
