Joyless
My next customer comes across as
joyless in her dealings with me – barking her female orders at me in curt and
abrasive tones (as befits a superior mistress addressing a lowly, municipal
footslave).
However, her pretty face lights up as soon as she starts speaking to one of her male friends on the phone high above me.
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| She is dripping with disdain for me as she haughtily approaches |
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| She surveys me as a piece of dirt at her feet |
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| 'Shine my boots, boy!' she barks joylessly down at me |
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| I immediately obey |
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| She kindly, but joylessly, switches her booted feet in front of my face |
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| Then suddenly her phone rings and she loses all interest in me |
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| I can now focus my tongue on her bootleather... |
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| ...on tasting where she has been walking... |
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| ...and on looking up at her socks! |
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| Just a hint of blue bootsock... |
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| ...which expands as I manoeuvre my humble head |
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| Oh how inferior I am to this superb customer-mistress's boots and socks! |
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| And she knows it - even though she's not thinking about me right now |
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| She's too busy engaged in a conversation with her boyfriend high above me |
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| Even when she switches feet again she does so subliminally without thinking about me |
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| She then turns her back and her boots on me... |
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| ...and walks away without speaking to me |
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| All I can humbly do is admire the backs of her disappearing boots and socks |

















