Very Late

It’s getting very late at night, but still I am anxiously awaiting the promised arrival of regular customer Ms Mukta madam. Whenever Ms Mukta promises to visit me, she invariably does. She never lets me down. She’s sweet and kind like that!

However, she is later than usual. Her tardiness only adds to my sense of anticipation, however. In particular, I am dying to know what type of SOCKS she is wearing on her feet tonight – SOCKS which will, no doubt, have been on her feet, inside her sneakers, throughout the day whilst she has been going about her daily business, including with her magnificent husband, master Simon sir.

Now there’s a thought!

Sure enough, I hear her instantly recognisable footsteps heading out of the gloom towards me. My mood instantly lifts. I’m about to find out what SOCKS Ms Mukta is wearing! 

Ms Mukta's familar, soft, sneakered footsteps echo along the otherwise deserted pavement as her much-anticipated SOCKS finally make their way towards me very late at night!

As is her wont, Ms Mukta stops to first of all kindly show me her SOCKS

'Haha, how do you like my sockies, sockieboy slave? Are they to your satisfaction, sockieboy sir?'

Her tone is laden with sarcasm, of course, especially her use of the word 'sir'. Only her husband truly deserves to be called 'sir'...

...since HE is a REAL MAN, and I'm just a sockieboy slave!

I nevertheless dignify sweet and kind Ms Mukta madam's sarcastic question with a suitably slavish response:

'Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam... Your SOCKS!... Your SOCKS are fabulous, miss!...

...the hue; the creases; the stitching...

...the intricate, trelissed pattern in the stitching...

...Truly I am honoured to be so close to your magnificent, grey SOCKS on your feet, mistress madam!...

...Oh your SOCKS, miss!... Your SOCKS!'

She takes a step back before extending her left sneakered foot towards my menial mouth: 'Haha, kiss my foot, slave!'

I instantly lower my lickspittle lips to the dirty surface of her outstretched sneaker-toe

'Ere long, she deftly switches her dainty, sneakered feet in front of my feckless face

She remains silent, enjoying my abject abasement at her superior SNEAKERED and SOCKED feet!

Just an ordinary-everyday pair of dirty red, white and blue, female sneakers worn with plain, grey ANKLESOCKS

But her late-night SOCKS are undoubtedly the humble highlight of my day...

...because they are MS MUKTA'S SOCKS, on MS MUKTA'S FEET, and SHE is a GODDESS!

A sweet and kind GODDESS, ever indulging me with stunning views of her SOCKS as I routinely kiss her sneakered feet!

What right have I got to be so close to her SOCKS?

None at all! I'm just a two-a-penny, public footslave - a nothing and a nobody!

For the likes of lowly me, just breathing in the same cold night air as her SOCKS is a privilege!

And the wearer of the SOCKS knows it too!

She triumphantly turns to leave me, silently and softly heading back in the direction from whence she came

She has no need to greet me goodbye

I'm just the DIRT beneath her feet (and SOCKS!)

The strategically placed wall lamp above my humble head lights up and accentuates the trellised stitching in her SOCKS!

I continue to look on in lowly AWE at the post-midnight SOCKS as they haughtily depart from my humble presence!

SOCKS that have been on Ms Mukta's feet all day!... SOCKS!... Ms Mukta's SOCKS!...Her SOCKS!


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