They’re big. The soles conical, almost. The balls of the feet dirty …tired!
As their Goddess like owners swings them, pushes them out of sweaty jootis, as they beckon as she’s sitting cross legged, the toes large and unmanicured – as I think of her harsh commanding young voice every morning, which contrasts so well with the demure manner in which Madam irons, works, bent over, legs bent under her – I go….nuts!
Walking out there for a smoke it takes all my will power, and I have plenty – not to drop down and just stare at those soles, kiss those toes, press them, massage her, marvel at her lovely pigtail that suits her so!
She’s the lovely young dhoban I write about so much.
She’s my Goddess truly! She’d make any man weak, judging by the amount of men that talk to her – truly weak!
And that’s that x.
Best
Mike Watson
