I oftentimes wish I could converse with my customers about their shoes and socks - enquire as to the provenance of their footwear; the textures; the style etc - as I am a naturally gregarious footslave! However, I must hold my tongue (literally so since, as a station feet kisser, I am not even permitted to lick my esteemed customers' shoes) unless I am first spoken to by the superior customer master or mistress, and few do ever deign to talk to me, since I am, literally and figuratively, beneath them. In their superior eyes, I'm just a voiceless 'thing' that kisses feet!
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| Yet another superb customer approaches me in the train station corridor |
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| Already I am keen and curious to know more about her shoes and socks... |
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| ...the shoes I shall soon be kissing, and the socks I am already admiring! |
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| The right shoe is daintily extended towards my waiting lips |
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| I kiss-respect the proffered shoe-toe in respectful, slavish silence... |
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| ...followed by the other one. |
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| This, despite my aching to know more about the shoes I am kissing... |
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| ...and the socks I must face head-on! |
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| This customer's socks are especially intriguing, being the socks of a superior young woman |
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| Oh what stories those sock-stitches could tell... |
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| ...if only I were permitted to ask, and if only the pretty wearer of the socks would deign to speak to me! |
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| But, like 99.9% of my customers, she turns her back on me and walks away without having breathed a word to me |
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| To her, I'm just a part of the station furniture - a thing that kisses feet in the corridor |
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| And she's right of course, for that is all I am! |
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| I am not even worthy to quiz her about her socks! |
