Oriental Angel

It was just another balmy August night and there I was rambling around downtown, restless as ever. Movement alone had the power to calm my scattered mind.

Though solitary, I was not completely alone there, on dry dark streets. Occasionally I came to witness some other poor soul wanderer who seemed just as restless as I. the same dead stare which sees nothing as their instinctual feet guide them to destinations unknown. I've seen people like these my whole life. Men, who in the morning shave without blinking and the women who will forever mourn dreams that died long before their own childhoods ended, as they dust cobwebbed corners in the pale afternoon sunlight. All around us are these people, never blessed with the wisdom of being utterly alive. How many lifetimes must we drift before looking around and seeing all people who don't know us and love us regardless?

It was in this same state of unknowing that I stumbled upon a small, subtly lit tavern with an Irish name. Not until I noticed this dim haven did I realize my legs were sore and my throat parched. Nothing could have been better at that moment than cold bitter-sweet refreshment.

After buying a draft beer from a balding slob of a man I found a seat at a square table off to the side and out of the way. There I sat nursing the stale draft letting my eyes float over the other patrons, most of whom also sat at tables and the bar mulling over their stale beers and pointless lives. Quite unexpectedly I gazed upon a woman who was unlike anyone in this gloomy and useless bar.

Her posture in itself separated her from the crowd. She knew what life was. Everywhere she turned she saw potential. This I knew without even looking into her eyes, her appearance in a place such as this was enough to convince me. Flashbacks within my mind's eye of the dreams of my youth.

My stupor was interrupted by the sound of boot heels clicking on old wooden floors. I froze like a deer in winter fog lights; neither my body nor my mind moved, even my lungs felt dead. Steadily she made her way across the room. Slow and agile. A sly grin which screamed mischievous intent painted upon her eyes. Never rushing nor hesitating she reached the table I had chosen and sat adjacent to and facing me.

Silence evaded the night as she drew a pull from her bottle of imported beer; wrapping her lips seductively around the stem. Have you ever witnessed an angelic oriental saint?

"Are you willing to do anything to please me?" Her voice as smooth as southern bourbon. Unable to speak, I stare dumbly into her eyes; black as jet, cold and impassioned both.

"If you wish to please me you will do as I command. Now answer me. Do you wish to pleasure me?" Softer, more sensual this time.

I found within myself enough strength to nod my consent to her schemes, wherever that shadowed highway led. This dark haired angel must have accepted my answer because as soon as I released my pent up breath, she leaned down and removed each of her boots, setting them neatly aside. Sitting back comfortably in her chair she crossed her legs; one folded over the other, placing her bare feet perfectly within my view.

"So here's our little test. Prove your only concern is my pleasure. Get down on your hands and knees and lick my foot like a dog."

"Here, in front of all these people?" In horrified embarrassment I replied.

Quick as light itself her body reached out and her tender appearing hand made contact with my face; left side, hard and stinging. An echo of the strike reverberated around the bar and people paused conversations to observe the disturbance of silence.

"Don't ever make me repeat myself again. Now do as you were told." Louder now, more angry.

Slowly and completely aware of my surroundings I descended to the floor. Red faced with shame but with a strange urge to appease my angry goddess. I sat here a moment and simply admired my chosen subject of beauty. She must have been walking in the blazing heat all day. Perspiration visible on her golden tinted toes, glistening in the bars feeble illumination. The aroma wafting up from her divine feet was strong enough to water my eyes and dull my thoughts. A full summer's day of pungent sweat delicately blended with the sweet smell of raw leather; bringing to mind a memory of the moistness of a woman's passion. I longed to taste her, no matter where she chose to command my tongue.

Dying inside with anticipation I lowered my head and tasted her strong primal scent, licking the tender flesh on the top of her foot, from toe to ankle. Salty and more bitter than anything before now experienced and yet I felt I could live on and die for this pleasure, this musky flavor.

A feeling of ecstasy and udder abandon flooded my brain. Never in my life had I felt so pure and so innocent as I did then, kneeling before my Asian mistress who was just another stranger less than an hour before. My heart filled with love for her, my salvation. My jeans expanded with desire for her pleasure. I knew then that I would follow her wherever and my deeds would be determined by her demands, however twisted or cruel.

With a voice of natural humbleness I asked if I was allowed to continue, for I was not sure if I could and nothing would bring me to displease her; not even the erotic flavors I was salivating to re-experience. A deviant chuckle and a sly smile; the silk haired goddess knew she had won our mini ego war. She was content and my act of submission was rewarded by one of her own.

The world dissolved and my observers were forgotten the moment my taste buds came into contact with her tender sole. I folded into myself and became my tongue; loosing myself in the taste and texture. I explored every inch of her foot, left dangling right in front of me. Tasting the tartness between her toes and lavishing affection onto the hard calluses of her heels. When I had finished my worship my mouth was dry and my tongue raw. Every trace of sweat and dirt was washed clean and her feet glistened from my lovingly applied saliva.

Without a word spoken, she leaned over and casually put her boots back onto her still damp feet. She then moved toward me and patted my head as if I was her beloved pet and in a way I guess I was.

The End