In The Wee Small Hours

In the wee small hours of the morning, on a bitterly cold winter’s night, a passing sink-estate resident kindly stops in order to have her warm, winter boots kissed and thus keep me company, albeit only briefly.

She doesn’t sympathise with my plight. She just enjoys using me.

On a cold and lonely night on the sink estate, I am approached by a local resident


Without speaking to me, she shoves her right boot beneath my face, thereby indicating she requires me to kiss it

Swiftly followed by her left boot

It's too cold an evening for her to loiter with me, so she silently heads on, back to the warmth of her flat

She doesn't care about me. And nor should she. I'm just a common-or-garden, public slave!

I bow my humble head in shame and reverence behind her departing boots and socks

But I can't resist glancing up towards her socktops...

...in order to admire the creases and folds in them

I'm glad this kind customer-mistress's feet are warm and cosy inside her thick boots and socks. Unlike me!

 

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