Touching Base
I must humbly touch base with the touchdown mistress - the base of her muddy cleats, that is!
She approaches me, presumably after a game? |
If so, I hope her team won - otherwise she might take out her frustrations on me! |
Her cleats stop directly in front of my confined and helpless face |
Then her right shoe is unceremoniously shoved towards my menial mouth for respect-kissing! |
Swiftly followed by her left! |
Her sports socks tower ominously over my humble head |
Her pretty face is, of course, protected by her face guard. Only mine is fully exposed - to her cleats! |
Kissing her cleats was never going to be enough... |
...Inevitably, I move on to lickshining them! |
It's nothing less than she expects of me! |