Left Behind

A smartly-dressed young woman click-clacks her way towards me in her high-heels from across the yard with a confident, businesslike stride. It’s only when she stops to gloat over me that I recognise her voice.

She asks me if I remember her, and I instantly recognise the voice of erstwhile regular customer-mistress, Ms Florica madam – a local Romany girl who used to visit me in her scruffy jeans and SHOES. I humbly and gushingly confirm my menial memories of her and she laughs at me, pointing out that she is now a successful businesswoman, whereas, after all these years, I am 'still here, down in the dirt, kissing FEET!'

She then kindly gives me a small taste of her success by thrusting her RIGHT FOOT onto my lowly lips, and I kiss the pointy leather toe of her successful-businesswoman SHOES every bit as fervently as I used to kiss her Romany-girl dirty SNEAKERS back in the day. I remember she always used to wear BLACK SOCKS inside her blue SNEAKERS, as opposed to the designer tan-nylon STOCKINGS she has on now inside her expensive, black patent leather HIGH-HEELS!

It is a truly humbling experience as Ms Florica madam continues to verbally mock me for being a loser and contrasts her own wealth and success with my continued, abject bondage and poverty. When she eventually turns to walk away from me, leaving me to languish behind her in the dirt, I only wish I could follow her on my hands and knees to HIGH HEEL, and share in her newfound success, even if only in the humble capacity as her personal footservant.

But, unlike me, she has clearly moved up in the world, and has well and truly left me behind! 

A smartly-dressed, young(ish) woman heads confidently towards me in her smart businesswoman suit

Her HIGH HEELS click-clack along the concrete walkway that leads to my confined face

As her STOCKINGED LEGS stop arrogantly in front of me, their owner's voice sounds familiar

I now recognise her, from the dim and distant past!

Her voice is unmistakably that of my erstwhile regular customer-mistress, local Romany girl Ms Florica madam...

...whose SCRUFFY SNEAKERS and PITCH BLACK SOCKS I used to kiss and admire, many years ago!

The now evidently rich and successful Ms Florica madam gloats over me, proud to contrast her wealth with my wretchedness! 

She unceremoniously shoves her RIGHT POINTY TOE onto my lowly lips for respect-kissing...

...as she savours a cigarette high above me (she always was a chain smoker!)

History is repeating itself. I am once again having to worship the FEET of divine Ms Florica madam!

Still a smoker; still with a supercilious grin on her pretty Romany face

Still my BETTER, and indeed a young woman who has made a success of her life...

...in complete contrast to me - the public footslave loser!

She is clearly going places, whereas I am going nowhere...

...still obliged to KISS FEET, the FEET of my INFINITE BETTERS!

At least I have shared in her FEMALE SUCCESS, albeit in the most lowly and humble way possible...

...by tasting her expensive SHOELEATHER!

No wonder her triumphalist laughter echoes around the alcove as she, once again, leaves me to rot in the dirt behind her...

...just as she did all those years ago!

Oh if only I could follow her to STOCKINGED HEEL!

I would be a good personal FEET and FOOTWEAR slave to successful Ms Florica madam!


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