If Socks Could Talk

If my customers’ shoes and socks could talk they would have so many fascinating stories to tell!

Take the pretty, Asian customer-mistress who is seated over me right now, for instance. I can taste where she has been on the dirty soles of her sneakers, but how exactly did they acquire that dirt? The sneakers could tell, if they could only talk!

And her socks – every crease tells a story, or it would do if only her socks could talk, as those seemingly casual creases reflect the pretty wearer’s activity throughout the day! To say nothing of the stains on her socks! Blood? Rust? Oh, if only her socks could talk!

Sadly, the sneakers and socks of a superb young Asian woman such as this would never deign to talk to me as I am, quite literally, beneath them. And as for the young woman herself – no superior being such as she would ever deign to converse with the likes of lowly me, other than to sullenly bark her orders down at me in her broken, Asian English! I’m just the garbage at her feet – a thing that licks shoes!

I am endlessly fascinated by my esteemed customers' shoes and socks and the stories they could tell

They are, after all, the shoes and socks of my betters!

Take this Asian customer-mistress's socks, for example

Every crease tells a story!

And those dirt stains on the socks - how did they get there?

I would love to be able to forensically interrogate those female socks!

but superior socks such as these would never deign to talk to the likes of lowly me

I'm just a common-or-garden public shoelick...

...fit only to lick shoes and to taste where my betters have been!

To be brutally frank, the stains on my pretty customer's socks are none of my damn business!

I'm just a slave, and must remember my place!

Which is to lickshine shoes and silently look at socks!

 

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