What She Really Thinks Of Me

I often wonder what my customers really think of me as they use me in the train station corridor.

This current pretty customer-mistress makes her feelings perfectly plain:

'You just a damn slave. You garbage. You a moron. I better than you. You kiss my feet, dirty slave!'

This bright young Asian woman is very astute, for every one of those statements about me is, of course, entirely correct!

Some customers can be inscrutable...

...but not this one!

As she stands in front of me she tells me exactly what she thinks of me!

'You just a damn slave. You garbage. You a moron. I better than you. You kiss my feet, dirty slave!'

She's right, of course - on all counts!

I am honoured to kiss the feet of such a self-evidently superior young woman!

Even her socks are better than me (something which she didn't mention!)

I admire her white socks immensely as I kiss her shiny, black loafer shoeleather

And when she switches feet in front of me, her right sock is every bit as impressive as the left sock!

What an honour! What a privilege! To pay my slavish respects to the shoes and socks of such a superb goddess!

And a goddess who knows exactly what she thinks of me...

...which is not much!

Her pretty head is now, no doubt, full of triumphalist thoughts. And rightly so!

Whilst my menial mind remains focussed on her shoes and socks - again, rightly so!

What I'm actually thinking about right now, is how much I would love to accompany those socks to heel...

...and serve them for the rest of my humble days!


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