Bootblack Dreams....

“You are not going to the show wearing those boots are you?”
I teased.

“Why not? What’s wrong with them?” he looked down, turning his foot from side to side.

“They’re filthy and they look like hell. You should let me clean them up for you.”

He stared hard at me. “Look, I know you’re in to all that kinky submission stuff, but I am not. And I am not interested.”

“I offered to clean and shine your boots for you, I didn’t offer to be your slave or for you to spank me. Piss off!”

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t understand all the stuff you’ve been getting in to. It’s…weird.”

“Weird? Have you ever seen me as happy and well adjusted as I have been in the past year? No? Well then, I guess I’m just weird.”

“Do my boots really look shitty?” Ahhh, appealing to his fashion sense is the way to his heart.

“Yes, you look like a perfectly disheveled crack addict, not the dashing punk you’re trying to look like.” I smirked at him. “Let me get myboot kit and work on them real quick. You like how shiny MY boots look, right?”

He glanced down at my feet. “You can make mine look like yours?”

“Well, yours won’t grow a high heel, but yes, I can make them look shiny and pretty.”

“Ok. But no kinky stuff”

“Oh, shut up and sit down and pour yourself some wine”

I hustled over to the cabinet and got out my boot kit. Crap, why did I push him so hard? I mean,

yeah, I’ve had a crush on him forever – he’s had a crush on me forever too, but… I swung by the kitchen to fill up a little bowl of water to go with the saddle soap.

He was sitting on the couch and was fidgeting with the cork screw.

I hiked up me skirt as I knelt down on the rug at his feet.

“What are you doing?” He asked, dropping the cork screw and backing up as far as the back of the couch would allow.

“I’m pulling up my skirt so it doesn’t get dirty – would you prefer that I take it off?” I asked wickedly, with a grin.

"N-n-no.” he replied.

“Good. Because I wasn’t intending on doing this nude.” He smiled back.

I picked up his boot. Well, I tried to pick it up. “Look, relax – I’m going to black your boots, not cut your foot off.”

“Sorry.” He let me pick up his boot this time.

I pulled his foot towards me and settled it on my thigh as I knelt. “Hmmm….”

“Hmm, What?”

“I was thinking ‘hmmm… what a mess’….”

"Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

I picked up the lighter.

“What’s that for?” He started pulling away.

"Oh, for Pete’s sake! Sit still, drink your Shiraz and be quiet. Obviously you’re not interested in what I’m doing or your boots wouldn’t look like this.”

I looked over his boots and ah-ha! A loose thread. I lit that Zippo and melted it off.

“Oh!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah. Oh.” He grinned down sheepishly.

I checked out his other boot and burned off another 2 threads.

Back to the first boot… I opened my tin of saddle soap. “Want to smell?, I asked as I lifted the tin to his face.

"Mmmm, nice. Much nicer that I thought it would be.”

I picked up my little brush, dipped it in that little bowl of water and lathered up the saddle soap.
I spread it over his right boot, working it into all the crevices around the sole, the harness and up the shaft. I put down the brush and started rubbing the lather in with my moist hands. I looked up surreptitiously thru my bangs to see the expression on his face. Bingo! A lovely cross between ecstasy and bewilderment. What have we here? I laughed to myself – a Boot Top in the making?

I grabbed my towel and started drying off his boot. Slowly, with a firm, massaging grip. He was totally relaxing in to the couch, glass of wine tilting precariously.

I snapped the towel and barked, “Next!” He sat straight up in his seat.

“Just kidding. Sit back.”

I picked his left boot up in my hands and gave it another going over. I was having a hard time now not grinning up in to in his face. I was getting hot and I could tell he was too.

I lathered up the left boot and as I started working in the soap with my hands. I took a chance and leaned my head against his knee. I hope he does what comes naturally to most Boot Tops, I hope, I hope…. Ahhh, tentatively at first, then with more confidence he touched my hair then started to rub my head.

“Is this ok?”

“ That is all I ever ask as my payment, of course it’s ok.”

I grabbed the towel and started cleaning off his boot. When I was done I took a deep breath before I looked up. I was amused by what I saw, his normally pale face was flushed and…he was sweating!

“More wine?” I asked proffering the bottle. He nodded and held out his glass.

I refilled him and he offered, “Sip?”, tilting the glass towards me. I nodded and smiled and took a sip. Nice. I took another sip and handed it back.

I picked his right boot back up and settled it back on my thigh. Now that it was dry I could start polishing. I picked up the tin of polish and my lighter,“More threads?” He asked.

“Hush” I said as I lit the polish in a narrow strip top to bottom in the can – as I’d been taught by my mentor. I tried so hard not to let my hand shake. I was always afraid of this part. Afraid I‘d burn my hand, spilling molten polish on the floor or my wrist. “Steady girl”, I thought to myself.

I set the can down and put the lid on it to snuff the flame. A little puff of smoke and the fire in the tin was out. I surveyed his boot again as I waited a moment for the polish to cool to a working temperature.

I dipped my fingers in the cooling puddle of wax I rubbed my hands together to get it evenly distributed and then, as I would if I was massaging his neck, I started rubbing in the polish in the toe of his boot. I dipped back in for a little more and repeated the process until the whole surface was covered with polish. It was really quiet in the room now. Oh, god, I hope I didn’t screw this up by doing this. I hope I didn’t screw us up. I was really nervous. Did I push him too hard? I mean, it’s my kink, not his. I’m only fooling myself if I keep saying “it’s not sexual, it’s just bootblacking.” Ugh.

I picked up my big brush with out looking at him. I took a deep breath and put my worries aside – whether I pushed too hard or not, his boots needed to be finished and I might never have another chance to do this with him. I started buffing: toe, instep, back of the heel, the tops where they caressed his calves….focus girl!

Then I grabbed my shine rag and started buffing again.

Should I spit on the boots as I would do on any other pair of boots? Or would that be too much? I decided against it, they’d get shiny with out me freaking him out any more. I finished up and picked his boot up off my thigh, setting it down gently and went to lift the next one.

“More wine?” he offered me his glass. His face was now an unreadable mask. I took the glass and sipped.

“Next?” I patted my thigh and he put the other boot on me slowly. Still an unreadable face. Ugh.

I flamed the polish again and got to work. All the playful banter was gone. Oh, shit. What if I’ve totally freaked him out? Crap.

Brush. Brush. Grab the rag. Buff. Buff. I was really starting to panic. Breathe girl.

“ok, finished. How do they look?” I asked without meeting his eyes.

Silence.

“They look amazing. That…that was amazing.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye either.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Let me wash my hands and we’ll getgoing, ok. I don’t want to be blamed for making you late for your own show”

"I’m always late anyway, no one will notice!” He finally met my eyes and he was grinning that crooked, deadly grin now, but looked away quickly. Nervous.

I quickly packed up my stuff and scooted off to wash my hands.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah”

He went out the door first and waited as I locked up. We went down the hall without speaking. As we went down the stairs, not turning to face me, he said “You know, I have 5 other pairs of boots….”

The End.

Or to be continued…..