The Beauty of Shoe Worship

This is probably buried in some other entry but I want to give it a standalone page.

One night before we’d met in the flesh Alexandra modeled a few shoes for me. When she put her webcam at floor level I remember striving to remember every line and curve of her feet.

That night as I drifted off to sleep my thoughts were of her feet.

Arriving at work I set about my usual morning tasks. All was normality itself until …

… I found myself standing in front of a bookcase. Walking there I didn’t remember. And I was making noises that were a cross between a sigh and a moan.

I’d fallen into a trance. An amazing delayed response to focusing on Alexandra’s feet and shoes: lost in foot fetishist or slave space.

Everything seemed slowed down and indistinct. Luckily I arrive at my shop a few hours before we open.

Shaking off the mood took a few hours. Had I been home I might’ve curled up and tried to sustain it.

Some people who have these moments go on to found cults. You might say I have the cult of Alexandra.

For those few hours alone I’ll be forever grateful to her.