Exhorbitant Interest

As my family sat at the breakfast table, I took quick, sneaky little peeks at the latest edition of 'Snatch!' Girly magazine, that my twenty-three-year-old, older brother (by 2 years), Gary, was reading - even more sneakily, hidden from view from Mum and Dad, as it was, behind the open pages of the Daily Telegraph newspaper.

More intent, was I, upon what the next glossy page of Gary’s favourite periodical would reveal, that I had only been half-listening to what Dad, who sat opposite me, had been saying. Still, I could tell from his angry tone, that Dad was 'going off on one'... As usual.

When Gary next turned the page of 'Snatch!' magazine, I was once again disappointed; that the full-page, full-colour picture, showed nothing below the knees of the beautiful nude model - or, to be more exact: no feet... Obviously - as could be readily gleaned from the title of the magazine - 'Snatch!' Magazine focused their attentions in a different area, of their girls' alluring attributes. So... I may have been disappointed, but I shouldn't have been surprised...

I listened more attentively, to Dad’s despairing tones; which were becoming a more and more familiar lament, these days, due to the on-going Banking Crisis. As I listened to him, Dad read his mail and, he bitterly bemoaned to us, his latest and on-going difficulties, in securing a Small Business Loan from his Bank - the 'Northern and General' - at a fair and reasonable, and affordable rate of interest.

Dad was sounding like a stuck record, these days, I had thought at the time, rather unkindly. Certainly, with a lack of sympathy and understanding; and, not least, with a lack of appreciation, that it was, after all, my Dad who was keeping a roof over my carefree and ungrateful head.

I suppose, I am like many young people of my own age: still living at home with Mum and Dad; Mum doing my washing, cooking my meals - even still cleaning my room. And, because Mum and Dad are reasonably well off, due to Dad's modestly successful Small Business, they ask for a rediculously small sum from Gary and I, for our weekly keep.

But, to listen to Dad’s voice of doom and gloom, perhaps Gary and I might be in for a rude shock. If affordable credit availability didn’t improve soon, to keep Dad's Small Business up and running, Gary and I might suddenly find ourselves having to cough up more for our keep. And, with a lot less spending money in our pockets!

Dad was ranting and raving, angrily, in his by now, all too familiar refrain. Dad waved his latest letter from the Northern and General Bank, at us, over the breakfast table. “The Manager of the N&G - Miss Harding - has knocked me back again! She's refused me a Small Business Loan. That is, Miss Harding won't give me one at a reasonable rate of interest, that I can afford to repay... I'm sure, that that woman is enjoying choking the life out of my Business! - no, I mean it! It is absolutely vital, that I secure a Small Business Loan soon, if I am to have any hope - any hope at all - of keeping my Business going... and, of keeping a roof over all of our heads, too, come to that,” Dad informed us all, for the umpteenth time.

I also, had received a decidedly peremptory, unpleasant-sounding letter that morning (that Dad had read earlier and, that had, no doubt, only served to pour petrol onto his blazing anger), from Miss Harding, the Manager of the Northern and General Bank. Miss Harding had made an appointment for me to see her: this morning, at 11 a.m. Miss Harding, had not asked me to phone her; in the event that this was not a convenient time, or that I might have trouble in arranging time off from work - no, she had simply and summarily instructed me to be there. To "appear", before her... as if she was a Judge... as if she was going to... Sentence me...

Miss Harding's decidedly brusquely worded letter (or rather, summons), was concerning my late, monthly repayment of my Personal Loan from the N&G. The loan (repayable over 3 years, and subject to the N&G's Terms and Conditions Policy), that I had taken out with them to buy my first car - an old, beat-up, cheating-the-scrapman, 10 year old hatchback - at a fair and reasonable, affordable rate of interest. Just before the Banking fiasco erupted over all of our heads... when it was still possibe, to find yourself a cheap Bank Loan... Things are different, now. Very different - you only had to listen to Dad!

Despite what Dad had said to me, after reading Miss Harding's letter ("Prepare yourself, for a bit of a dressing-down, David. For a 'meeting without coffee'"), I wasn’t overly concerned, though. I mean, after all, it was just a temporary cash flow problem that I had - everyone gets them, right? I was just a bit short of money this month, that’s all, due to a problem that I'd had with my car, and that had needed the Garage to fix it. As I saw it, I had no choice, in giving priority to spending what money I had, on getting my car repaired - as opposed, to meeting this month's Personal Loan repayment to the N & G. After all, I needed my car to get to work, didn't I? No car = no work = no money. Surely, Miss Harding would sympathise, and appreciate my unfortunate dilemma... wouldn't she? And, after all, I would simply make up the deficit, when I paid next month’s Personal Loan repayment. Surely, Miss Harding would be understanding - and flexible... wouldn't she?

But, as I listened to Dad, I started to grow more and more uneasy, and less and less complacent, about my own situation with the N&G. I began to take a bit more seriously, Dad's earlier warning - to expect "A 'meeting without coffee'."

As I sneaked another quick peek at Gary’s Girly mag, each time he turned to the next page, more often than not, just a single, brief glimpse was all that I needed - still no feet - before returning my full attention to what Dad was saying, in his increasingly despairing, but angry and forthright tones.

It was not, that I was not interested, in the often very beautiful and glamourous, very sexy, nude models' other 'attributes' - of course I was! It was just that I was waiting, for the pictures that showed the feet of the posing models - preferably, bare feet, but I would have been OK, too, with socks or hose - I'm easy to please! THOSE, were the sort of pictures that I was interested in, and wanted to see. But, 'Snatch!' Magazine, like many 'Tits & Pussy' mags, hardly ever seemed to show their models' feet.

But, whenever Gary turned a page that did actually reveal just such a picture, I had to hide my feelings. For, the symtoms of my sudden excitement might easily give me away (a flushed face!), as my pulse quickened. I needed to keep a tight reign on my emotions - for fear of Gary stumbling upon the discovery, that I had a foot fetish.

It would be just like Gary, I knew, to gleefully blab my secret to anyone and everyone; to all-but shout my ultra-embarrassing secret from the rooftops - even blurt it out to Mum and Dad. Especially, to Mum and Dad! I knew, that finding out that I had a foot fetish, would just be a huge joke, to Gary.

I was 21 years old. By now, I was trying to come to terms with, and still trying to understand, my amazingly strong feelings for female feet, only half-heartedly. After all, by now, I knew perfectly well, what I was - a foot fetishist - pure and simple. I was quite reconciled to it. In fact, far from being simply reconciled, to my foot fetish, the last thing that I wanted, was to be 'cured'. I loved it. Bring it on!

The thrilling and sexually arousing fantasies, that female feet evoked in me and, that I was continually having - day and night - about them, were, I realized, taking over my life more and more, as I spent more and more of my time looking at them, thinking about them, and fantasizing about them.

I also realized, that I was becoming one-track-minded, about female feet: I had to admit to myself, that I had no control, over this thing and, that female feet, were becoming my all-consuming obsession - that there was little room left in my head, for anything else...

Female feet, drove me crazy – but, in a good way. Oh, yes, in a good way! But, day-by-day, it seemed to me, my desire and my need - yes, my actual need - for female feet, was growing. Growing, inexorably. Growing, day-by-day, a little stronger, a little more urgent, and a little more desperate. Growing, into a fully-fledged, ravenous craving: and, it was a craving - a craving like no other...

In fact, in my fantasies, in the increasingly powerful scenarios that I was dreaming-up, I craved to be humbled - humiliated - at female feet. That, would be the Ultimate! That, would be 'Humiliation Heaven'! That, would be my 'Dream Come True'.

But, I was fearful - scared witless - of discovery... Forget, about 'Humiliation Heaven'. Forget, about my 'Dream Come True'... Just the idea - just the very idea! - of asking a girl, to let me sniff her feet, to let me kiss her feet... to let me do to her feet, what I longed and needed to do to them; to pamper them, to adore them, to worship them... to satisfy a craving - a craving, that was like no other... was quite out of the question! I could never bring myself to do it!

Secondly, I was way too scared. Scared, that the young lady in question might be so disgusted, or so ‘weirded out’, by such an outlandish - 'freakish' - proposal, that she might denounce me. Scared, that she might tell all and sundry, of my 'perversion'. Scared, that she might put her knowledge - her juicy, gossip-worthy knowledge - of my 'freakish' and 'perverted' foot fetish, out there... Out there - in the Public Domain...

I was in despair! Would I ever get to see some female feet action? Would I ever get to sniff them, to kiss them, to adore them, to worship them? Would I ever, get to satisfy my craving - a craving, that was a craving like no other? - would I? Would I?... Ever?

When Gary turned the page of this month's edition of 'Snatch!' magazine again; and I was once more disappointed, that there was nothing to see of the gorgeous and glamourous nude model, below her knees, I scooped up another spoonful of cornflakes and, I concentrated more fully, on what Dad was saying to Mum, who sat beside him, and opposite Gary. “Small Businesses like ours, Anne, are going under, EVERY DAY!," observed Dad, emphasizing his key words, as was his way, when speaking - or, 'holding forth' - as he was now.

"We taxpayers, Anne - WE - bailed THEM out, to save THEM from going under, through their own appalling mismanagement, and their sheer GREED!" Dad went on, shifting into higher gear. "NOW, though, they won’t lend US any of the money, that WE, lent to THEM, when we bailed THEM out, to stop US, from going under!... Unless, as I say, it is at exorbitant interest!"

Dad took a quick slurp of his tea, before resuming. "The Banks have grown too BIG, Anne, THAT’S the TROUBLE! Did you know, Anne, that some of our Banks actually have a bigger turnover, than the British Economy, itself?"

"But, worse than that, Anne," interrupted Dad, as if Mum hadn't spoken, "far worse, is that the Banks have grown too powerful, and they have been allowed to grow too big for their own boots, and the Government hasn’t got the GUTS, too cut them back down to size! I am telling you, Anne, and I am not joking! Just take a look around you! The Banks, Anne, have got us by the ‘proverbials’, if you will pardon my French And, you mark my words: there is just no telling, how hard they will squeeze!"

Dad shrugged sadly, held his hands out - palms upwards - and sighed heavily, as though wondering at a world gone mad: as though wistful, for times past... "The Banks used to be a PROPER service! They used to be polite, and respectful, towards their customers: always ready, and happy to help. But, nowadays, their attitude STINKS! They are haughty and arrogant, and they are getting worse, all the time! The Banks, Anne, I have noticed - and Bank Managers, too, if Miss Harding is anything to go by! - are becoming even more increasingly disdainful and contemptuous of their customers, and there is just no telling, where it will all end; except in tears - which is pretty damn obvious! The Banks, these days, seem to have no limits, moral or otherwise, to the hardships and misery that they seem to take great delight in inflicting upon their customers, and I believe there is NOTHING - NOTHING - that they won’t stoop to. And, like I say, Anne, I can’t get a Small Business Loan out of Miss Harding, at the N&G, except at exorbitant interest.”

That was at least the 3^rd time, that I had heard Dad mention the term ‘exorbitant interest’ and, my curiosity piqued - by my own appointment to see Miss Harding, the Manager of the N&G, that morning at 11 a.m. - I asked him, “Dad, what do you mean, by exorbitant interest?”

Misunderstanding me, Dad, not realizing that I was asking him what the actual rate of interest was, that Miss Harding at the N&G was demanding of him for a new Small Business Loan, replied, “Exorbitant interest, David, means far too much, and far in excess, and far beyond, what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people, son.”

Before I could explain to Dad, that he had misunderstood me, he was talking to Mum again, in his plaintive and despairing tones, and so I didn’t want to interrupt them. Anyway, it was time I said my goodbyes, and I headed into Town - I had an appointment to keep; with Miss Harding, Manager of the Northern and General Bank...

I thought that I would while away the time - before my 11 a.m. appointment at the N&G - browsing in the Music Shops, where sometimes, if I got lucky, I might see a girl ease her heel out of her shoe; or even, if I got REALLY lucky, she might actually slip her foot out of her shoe, (going 'all the way'!, as I thought of it), and then, absent-mindedly, play with her shoe, a little, as she looked through the racks of records and CD’s. But, as usual, my luck was out, and so I decided to take a walk down the High St. to see if anything ‘interesting’ was going on... until it was time for my 11 a.m. appointment with Miss Harding, at the Northern and General Bank.

At the appointed time of 11 a.m., I pushed open the front door of the Northern and General Bank, and, en route to the Customer Services Desk, I just happened to glance, at the 4, exclusively female N&G Bank Cashiers, who were dealing with the Bank’s patiently queuing customers, from behind their Bank Cashier windows. And, I couldn’t help but notice, that the 4 female N&G Bank Cashiers; who varied greatly, in their ages, and in the level of attractiveness of their own, individual appearances, all seemed to have one, very strange thing in common... They all seemed happy - very happy...

The 4 female N&G Bank Cashiers all had, I realized; a... happy - but, no... it was more than that... much more - a sort of... A sort of, all-at-once, dreamy, preoccupied, far away, smug, self-satisfied, complacently contented, and serene, expression on their faces, as they were seated behind their Bank Cashier windows.

I must have stood and stared at the 4 mysteriously smiling N&G Bank Cashiers' faces, for some moments, for I was brought out of my curious reverie, by an all-at-once; imperious-sounding, barely civil, disdainful, haughty and arrogant female voice. “Yes? Can I help you?,” inquired the decidedly acerbic-tongued Receptionist, of me, from where she sat, behind the Customer Services Desk.

The Receptionist was young - about my own age - and she was, I thought very, very attractive, indeed... She had blue eyes, and lovely, shoulder length blonde hair, and, as I looked at her very shapely legs - which were plainly visible, under the open space of the Customer Services Desk that she sat on the other side of - I saw that she wore the dark hose, and the black, office pumps that all of the female N&G Bank Staff wore: and, which were an integral part, of their Northern and General Bank Uniform.

I also saw, that the Receptionist was dangling one of her black pumps from her crossed ankles, as she had her shapely legs stretched out before her. As I approached her, I saw her heel - popping in, popping out, popping in, popping out - of her black, office pump. And so I approached the Customer Services Desk, slowly - so as to stretch out, and to prolong the moment, for as long as possible...

Though I was somewhat taken aback, by the Receptionist's wholly uncalled-for rudeness, I tried to shrug it off: the Receptionist was very attractive, and so I would 'let her off', I thought - besides, she dangles her pumps!

When I sat down on the seat opposite to the Receptionist, to my surprise and pleasure, I found that the seat was actually very comfortable; with padded leather arms and headrests. And, I thought to myself, facetiously: Dad might not be able to get a Small Business Loan, out of Miss Harding - but, at least he can sit comfortably, while he is being told ‘NO’!

The Receptionist gazed at me; haughtily and arrogantly, and derisively and contemptuously, and, I wondered if Dad was right about what he had said: about the appalling attitude of Bank Staff, these days. Or, perhaps the Receptionist had noticed, that I had ogled her black-pump-dangling display, as I had approached her Customer Services Desk... in slow motion, and as though I was wading through treacle...

Not taking her eyes from mine, the Receptionist replied, tartly, "I think I know who the Manager is, thank you very much." Pushing a button on her Desk, she spoke into her intercom. “Your 11 a.m. appointment is here, Miss Harding.”

I was unsettled, by the seemingly penetrating intensity, of the Receptionist’s silent, blue-eyed gaze. It was not so much, that I was so nervous because she was so pretty: though, of course, that was partly it - what young, red-blooded male doesn't get all hot and bothered, in the immediate proximity of such sexy loveliness? - or even because she might have caught me staring, at her sexily dangling black pump. No, I was unsettled, because she seemed to be looking at me, as if... as if she knew something - something, that I didn’t... As if she was in possession of, and was harbouring, some delicious little secret...

I was quite surprised - and somewhat concerned, too! - when, rather than being invited into the Manager’s Office, as I had been expecting; to discuss what was, after all, my own personal and private business, I heard Miss Harding reply, in very business-like and ‘no-nonsense’ tones, “Thank you, Paula. I will be there in a moment.”

A moment later, I had to catch my breath, at the stunning beauty of Miss Harding; who I was seeing for the first time, and who I supposed must have replaced the ‘old fuddy duddy’ - the man who had been Manager, when I had taken out my Personal Loan.

Miss Harding took the second seat, on the other side of the Customer Services Desk, as she sat down beside Paula, the Receptionist. Miss Harding also had blue eyes, and blonde hair - lots of it - and it was piled up on top of her head, held in place, by a matching pair of white hair stays. Miss Harding was far too beautiful, I thought - rather sexistly, I suppose - to be spending her days, in the dry and musty, and unlovely environs of the N&G Bank... when she could so easily be looking out, I thought, from the glossy and glamorous pages of Gary’s Girly Magazines... her sexy bare feet, excitingly displayed... Maybe she model’s in her spare time, I mused. Maybe, she... Maybe she could earn a lot more money working for the Bank, these days, anyway.

I heard those exciting, unmistakable, tell-tale, softly rustling sounds that - to my finely-tuned ears! - meant that both of the female Bank Employees facing me, were easing their dark hosed feet from their black pumps: and, there was nothing in the world that I wanted to do more, than to look down, and to feast my eyes upon what was going on, under the Customer Services Desk... But, with both the Receptionist, Paula, and Miss Harding, the Manager looking directly at me, I did not dare. And, as I looked at their beautiful faces - looking unwaveringly and unblinkingly, at me - I felt my face redden, and grow hot; as I listened, to their maddeningly seductive rustlings; of their hosed feet, caressing shoe leather, as they played with their black, office pumps under the Customer Services Desk. And, I began to quail, under the intent gazes of their combined and continued silent scrutiny.

After what had seemed an age; though, it must have been well under a minute, the Bank Manager, Miss Harding - to my utter disbelief and horrified embarrassment; in the full sight and hearing of all of the customers in the Bank, who were patiently queuing up, and waiting their turns to be dealt with at the Bank Cashier windows - addressed me, loudly, and clearly. Loudly and clearly enough, for all in the Bank to hear...

“I, am Miss Harding, and I am the Manager, of this Branch of the Northern and General Bank. I have summoned you to the Bank this morning, David, in connection with the late repayment of your Personal Loan, last month, in direct contravention of the Loan's Terms and Conditions," Miss Harding informed me - and, everyone else in the Bank!

Miss Harding continued, scathingly, "The Northern and General Bank, David, takes a very dim view - a very dim view, indeed - with regards to the late repayment of it’s Loans. And, as you will be aware, David - that is, of course, if you have taken the trouble to read the small print, pertaining to the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, with the Northern and General Bank - we have the right: without the need or obligation to supply you with either written or verbal notice, to change the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, with us, in the event of your defaulting on it - and, with immediate effect," intoned Miss Harding, ominously.

Now, I was certain - absolutely certain - that cruel, gleeful smirks, were beginning to insinuate themselves upon the beautiful faces of both Paula, the Receptionist, and of the Bank Manager, Miss Harding, as Miss Harding finally concluded her withering dressing-down, of me - in front of everyone in the Bank! "David, as you have now defaulted, on the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, with the Northern and General Bank, it is my duty, as Manager, to inform you that we have now changed your Terms and Conditions accordingly - and, with immediate effect.”

Absolutely shocked - mortified! - was I, at having every customer in the Bank listening in, on the belittling, withering reprimand dealt out to me, by Miss Harding, that I wanted a hole to open up in the floor, and swallow me. And, to borrow Miss Harding’s words - “With immediate effect!"

Such, was my absolute belittlement, my disbelieving shock, at this so severe, so over-the-top, so unexpected, reprimand - regardless, of what Dad had said, in his angry and bitter castigations, of the N&G - by Miss Harding; so tongue-tied, was I, that I could only muster a pathetically feeble, inadequate, wholly ineffectual reply, in my defence.

“I am very sorry, Miss Harding - very, very sorry indeed," I began, in tones of abject apology. "But, you see, I had to spend the money on repairs to my car, that ended up costing a lot more than the Garage’s original estimate... And, of course, as I'm sure you'll appreciate, Miss Harding, I need my car to get to work."

At the Bank Manager's stony, disturbing silence, I went on. "I assure you, Miss Harding, I had every intention of making up the shortfall, by paying double, next month... So, you see, Miss Harding, I would have made it up, next month, I ---“ Cutting me off, dismissively - the interview now over - Miss Harding crisply said to the Receptionist, “Take him away, please, Paula.”

I soon found out! The Receptionist, Paula, picked up a small device from her Desk; that was black, and about the same shape and size as a mobile phone. Paula then pointed the device at my seat and, nonchalantly - as if she was doing nothing more unusual than changing channels on TV, dissatisfied with the present entertainment - she pressed a button...

Immediately - and to my incredulous surprise - I felt a seatbelt-like device strap itself around my waist; and thereby firmly anchoring me to my seat. Simultaneously, I found my wrists securely clamped to the thickly padded armrests of my seat... I was actually trapped, in my seat! I was immobilized! My disbelieving astonishment, my sense of unreality, rocked me! And, such was the measure, of my dumbfounded amazement, that I then mindlessly obeyed the harsh and bossy instruction of the Receptionist, Paula, when she stood behind my seat, and ordered me, imperiously, “David! Lift up your feet!”

Then; and in full view, of the queuing, staring, curious, nudging, and pointing Bank customers, Paula pushed me - like an invalid in a wheelchair in an Old People’s Home - past the Bank Cashiers' windows, to a security door at the end. After tapping out the required digits on the security lock, Paula pushed me through, and into the... what I thought of, as the 'Long Room' - where the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, were situated, at their Bank Cashiers' windows.

The 4 Bank Cashiers, I saw, were positioned upon an elevated platform, that had a single safety-rail that ran its entire length, at a height of about 4 feet. It seemed, to me, as if the 4 Bank Cashiers were actually placed upon a pedestal and, to my eyes, they were almost Regal, in the manner of their stately bearing. Upon this elevated (and, to me, seemingly 'elevating') platform, the 4 Bank Cashiers sat comfortably - importantly, like Queens upon their thrones - upon padded leather stools that were bolted to the floor.

But, nothing that had happened so far, could have prepared me for the incredible, mind-blowing shock, of what happened next... Of the truly awesome, life-changing experience, that was in store for me, in the 'Long Room' of the Northern and General Bank... An experience, so tumultuous in its magnitude, that it would rock me, shake me - take me - to the absolute epicentre of my being...

The Receptionist, Paula: without ceremony, and without a word, to me, guided the castors of my seat - sideways-fashion - into a pair of grooved runners that were set into the floor, that served as rails and, that ran the length of the Long Room, that housed the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

In the disbelieving haze of my initial shock, I had numbly and dumbly registered - in the moments before Paula had guided the small wheels of my seat into the runners that served as rails - that there were already 3 Bank customers; 2 men and a woman, who were restrained in their seats, just as I was. They were, I saw - to my utter astonishment! - securely placed in their 'positions', further down the 'line' and, it was as though we had all been placed, upon some kind of weird and surreal conveyor belt... And, it was now clear to me - perfectly clear! - as to what was the actual purpose, of our mode of transport... And, I was totally flabergasted!

Wordlessly, Paula purposefully pushed my seat along the runners - sideways-fashion. Then, at coming to what was like a branch-line of a railway track - the first of 4, in the Long Room - Paula guided my seat onto it - forward-fashion. Paula then pushed my seat the last few feet forward and, after my restrained and seated lower body had rolled under the elevated platform of the Long Room - upon which, the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank were comfortably seated - and then come to a stop, I realized, that I had now arrived at the first ‘Station’, on the ‘Northern and General Line’.

After all, it didn't take much figuring out: when I found that my head was positioned; directly behind, and at exactly the same height - mere inches away! - as the dark hosed, black, office pump shod feet, of the first in line, of the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank... I knew I had 'Arrived' - in more ways than one!...

From what I could remember, from what I had briefly seen of the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, as I had first entered - not least, the all-at-once, dreamy, preoccupied, self-satisfied, serene, smug, far-away, and complacently content expressions, on all of their faces, and, not forgetting, that they varied widely, in their ages, and in the level of the attractiveness of their appearance - the Bank Cashier, at whose feet I was now 'Stationed', was, I thought, probably the least attractive of the 4 Bank Cashiers.

From my first, fleeting impression of her, I remembered that she was a 'big' woman who, I thought, was not much to look at. And, with her best days clearly behind her - on the wrong side of 40 - over 'The Hill'.

Now, though, she was, I thought, definitely 'past it'. On the other side of 'The Hill' - the down-side. She was, I thought, using rather a lot of make-up, too, in her fight against Father Time. Not least, the rather garish, 'Shocking Pink' lipstick - that shone out from her lips like a neon sign - that she wore, as if she thought that she might otherwise go unnoticed...

After securing me into 'position', the Receptionist, Paula, simply left me there. Left me... Without a word and, as if she had just done the most mundane, the most unremarkable, and the most ordinary and every-day thing in all the world - such as providing her colleague with a cup of tea - left me. And, after tapping out the required digits, she went out through the security door, and back to her Customer Services Reception Desk.

For, right in front of my amazed, mesmerized face, the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot began to emerge: slowly, teasingly, tantalizingly - promisingly - from its slightly tight-fitting, black, office pump... it began to emerge...

As though it sensed my presence - like a predator, sensing the nearness and the vulnerability of it’s prey: as though it had a mind, an intelligence, all of it’s own; as though it acted independently, and quite of it’s own volition - with a slight rustle, of panty hose rubbing against shoe-leather, and with a distinct, 'whooshing' sound, of suddenly-released, warm, moist air, purposefully, the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot, began to emerge...

As though from its lair; as her foot, slowly and intently, eased itself out of the retaining and restraining - suffocating - confines, of its slightly tight-fitting, black, office pump, I watched: fascinated, mesmerized, half paralysed, and with an incredible, mind-shattering excitement, as... the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot reached back... slowly, but surely... until it filled my entire vision... And, still, it kept coming, and coming... inexorably... inching closer, ever closer - towards my adoring and enraptured, waiting and 'available' face...

I was driven half demented, by the burning, raging, all-consuming wildfires of my pent-up desires; as I saw, and as I greedily drank in, every detail - every thrilling, heart-stopping detail - of that fabulous and mind-blowing vision.

I saw the glory - the Out-Of-This-World! - wondrous glory, of the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed sole. Saw it, in such perfect clarity - in such graphic, glorious, amazing, extreme close-up, high-definition detail - that I knew that the awesome image was burned into my memory... For ever!

The Bank Cashier, who sat at the first 'Station' of the 'Northern and General Line' - the first in line, that is, of the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank - had quite a large, meaty and fleshy sole. Quite broad, too, and with a deep, generous arch, that was wonderful to behold - and, I was doing exactly that!

Her foot, had a big, round, and hard and solid-looking heel and, I could see, through the teasing, tantalizing, gossamer-thin material of her dark hose, the slightly rough skin, at the outer edges of the bottom of her heel... But, what excited me - mesmerized me - the most, was the amazing, extreme close-up sight, of her dark hose covered toes, coming closer, and closer... ever closer... Until, finally - inevitably - the Bank Cashier’s long, splayed, dark hose covered toes found my nose... and cupped it, and locked onto it...

Now, my shocked amazement, was complete! I could not believe - I could hardly dare believe - that this was happening to me! Believe, that this was really, actually, happening to me! I thought, that I would wake up from this impossible dream - this 'Dream Come True' - at any moment... That I would wake up, to find the sheets of my bed in tangled, chaotic disarray, from the fevered throes of my unconscious ravings! Never before - never, ever before - had I known such exhilaration! Such... perfect happiness!

And now, not only was my impossible dream actually coming true, but, the awesome - magical - reality of it, was such, that it transcended, went far, far beyond, even my most cherished, my most far-fetched fantasies... And, it was almost too wonderful to bear.

Further along the 'Northern and General Line', at the other 3 'Stations', I could plainly hear the frantic and furious, but useless, struggles, of the other 3 defaulting Bank customers - the 2 men and the woman - who had preceded me, into the Long Room of the Northern and General Bank.

Restrained in their seats, just as I was, and forced to face front: our faces, made conveniently available, and within easy, effortless reach, of the dark hosed feet of the Northern and General Bank Cashiers - who, like Queens upon their thrones; their serfs, at their feet, sat comfortably upon their padded leather stools, upon their elevated platform - my 3 fellow Bank defaulters, continually and loudly called for 'redress'. Their high umbrage, all too evident in their raised, complaining voices... which must surely have carried - despite the sound-proofing - I thought, through to the Bank's customers, on the other side of the Bank Cashiers' windows...

The 2 men (one of them, about my own age, while the other man was about my Dad's age - 45) absolutely turned the air blue, with their appalling language, as they protested vociferously, bitterly and resentfully, and angrily cited Human Rights violations... All, to no avail... Their profanity-ridden, scandalized diatribe of high indignation, seemly falling upon deaf ears... And, in tortured and tormented tones, they ranted and railed, against the despicable and outrageous treatment that was being perpetrated against them - via the dark hosed feet, of the Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank.

In contrast, though, I could hear that the woman's star was on the wane, and it was quite plain, that she was now losing heart for the 'fight'. In fact, she was actually starting to cry... She sounded, as if she was getting close to the end of her tether... very close... on her last legs - she'd had enough...

And, I felt, for the elderly lady - of course I did! After all, she was someone's wife; someone's Mum; someone's Grannie... It tugged at my very heartstrings, listening to the anguished wails of the elderly lady, begging and pleading... Begging and pleading, for an end to her misery. Begging and pleading; to be released, from the diabolical, abominable atrocity, of which she was being so callously, heartlessly, mercilessly, and systematically subjected to, by the Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank - at whose dark hosed, office pump shod feet, she was so securely, and so perfectly positioned.

I thought back, to this morning at the breakfast table... Remembering what Dad had said to me, after reading my letter from Miss Harding - that was, in effect, the blue touch-paper that had set off his latest tirade against the Banks: to prepare myself, for "A bit of a dressing-down." For a "Meeting without coffee."

I inhaled, deeply, of those long, warm, moist and, all-at-once, clutching, clamping, claiming, imprisoning - and, most of all, 'possessing' - dark hosed toes, of the Bank Cashier, who was comfortably seated at the first of the 4 'Stations', of the 'Northern and General Line'.

If happiness could be inhaled, I was inhaling it now! The Bank Cashier's amazing - arousing! - foot scent, was an exotic aroma, that filled my head, and filled my world... filled my whole-wide-world, with its intoxicatingly pungent stink, as she continued to cup my nostrils, firmly, in her dark hosed toes... and, as I continued to inhale, deeply...

It was hard to tell, though, if the Bank Cashier was even aware of my presence - even as she planted her broad and fleshy, dark hosed foot right into the middle of my face. I thought, of course, that the Bank Cashier simply must - had to be - aware of my presence, at her feet. But, she gave no sign - and so I couldn't be sure... that she was actually 'cognizant', of my being there... She did not look down at me and, she certainly had not deigned, to acknowledge my presence - either verbally, or even by so much as a look...

For all I knew, her variously searching, probing, rubbing, nostril-cupping, 'playful' foot, was simply toying with my face; absent-mindedly - carelessly - as she dealt with the queuing customers at her Bank Cashier's window.

This, was more than I had ever dreamed of - much, much more! I realized, that I was crying. I was actually crying. Hot, sweet tears ran down my cheeks. I was hopelessly and helplessly overwhelmed, by a wonderful - magical - euphoria. Overpowered, by the sheer, mind-shattering magnitude, of my rapturous ecstasy... By the incredible, shocking realization, that my dream - my impossible dream - was actually coming true...

The sight, of her foot! The exhilarating vision, of the Bank Cashier’s broad and fleshy sole, of her long toes, and of her big, round, and hard and solid-looking heel, with the slightly rough skin, at the outer edges of the bottom of her heel!...

The feel, of her foot! The thrilling, electrifying contact, of the Bank Cashier's dark hose covered foot flesh, as she pressed her broad and fleshy sole, right into my face!... Her tingling touch, as her 'playful' foot, toyed with my face: seemingly absent-mindedly - carelessly...

The smell, of her foot! The pungent, dizzying, intoxicating - arousing! - aroma, of the Bank Cashier's dark hose covered, stinky toes, as she cupped them around my nostrils... As she clamped them to my nose, and clutched it, firmly - painfully, almost - like a perching, exotic bird of paradise!

I wanted to go on, sniffing, inhaling deeply, of the Bank Cashier’s fragrant foot fumes; to go on, smelling her intoxicatingly pungent - arousing! - dark hose covered toes! I wanted to go on, gazing rapturously, at the Bank Cashier's broad and fleshy sole; to go on, gazing adoringly, at her big, round, hard and solid-looking heel, with the slightly rough skin, at the outer edges of the bottom of her heel! I wanted to go on, 'being there': just simply, 'being there', for the Bank Cashier, so that her broad and fleshy, long-toed, dark hose covered, 'playful' feet, could toy with my conveniently positioned, 'available' face, seemingly absent-mindedly - carelessly - to her heart's content.

After what (I supposed) must have been several minutes, the Bank Cashier’s long (and strong!), dark hose covered toes, and the broad and fleshy sole of her dark hose covered foot, suddenly began to increase their 'playful', absent-minded - careless - activity, with my face. And I realized, to my even more heightened excitement, that it seemed to be as a direct result, of the Bank Cashier chatting to a customer - a man - who she was presently serving... and chatting to, very saucily...

From what I could hear, of their rather animated, boistrous-sounding exchange, he was a young man of about my own age and, he had a rather confident, cheeky-sounding voice, and an altogether 'cocky', sort of attitude. And, apparently sensing, that the Bank Cashier might be receptive, to his 'romantic' overtures, susceptible, to his predatorial wiles, he became more and more emboldened...

There was, I could hear, a definite, unmistakable undertone, of 'on-the-pull', sexual innuendo, in his voice - he was actually flirting, with the Bank Cashier! Chatting her up! By the sounds of it, he was 'making her day'; really bringing her out of herself, really 'getting her going' - really... 'turning her on'... By the sounds of it, he was a right little womanizer!

From what I could hear, the Bank Cashier seemed to enjoy - very much enjoy! - the decidedly risque-sounding banter, with the cheeky, 'cocky', flirty young man, who showered her with flowery, flattering compliments, that were, apparently, the modus operandi, of his lecherous attentions. And - from what I could hear - of their sexually-charged, smuttily-innuendoed, filthy, foul-mouthed flirtations, she gave, at least as good as she got... The saucy wench!

The Bank Cashier - who sat like a Queen on her throne and, who had not even deigned, to acknowledge my serf-like presence, at her feet; either verbally, or even by so much as a look - sounded like a right old slapper!

As though reacting to some sort of... stimulus, the Bank Cashier's dark hosed foot, suddenly became hyper-active - absolutely going 'To Town' on my 'available' face: variously exploring, my face, rubbing it, pressing it, caressing it, teasing it - toying, with it!... Using it, abusing it, claiming it, imprisoning it - and, most of all - 'possessing' it.

Of course, at such treatment, I became more than half delerious, with amazing, incredible pleasure. Not least - or rather, principally - from my perceived reasons for the Bank Cashier's instigation of it!... From her being titilated - from being 'turned on'!

Oh! The brazen hussy! The saucy wench! The flirty, dirty bitch! She was a right old slapper! Old enough to be his Mum! And, here I was, beneath her feet!... and beneath her notice. Beneath her acknowledgement - either verbally, or by even so much as a look!

And, when I saw the Bank Cashier’s other foot: when I saw her left, dark hosed foot, ease itself; with a 'whooshing' sound, of suddenly-released, warm, moist air, from the retaining and restraining - suffocating - confines, of its slightly tight-fitting, black, office pump... and reach back, slowly... but surely, until it filled my entire vision...and kept on coming, and coming... inching closer, ever closer... towards my waiting and 'available' face - I started to go absolutely crazy! For I realized that, now, both of the Bank Cashier's broad and fleshy, dark hosed feet, were about to go 'To Town' on my face!

I thought my heart would burst, as both - yes, both! - of the Bank Cashier’s large and fleshy, warm, moist, pungently intoxicating and, all-at-once, searching, probing, rubbing, pressing, caressing, playing, toying, using, abusing, claiming, imprisoning - and, most of all, 'possessing' - dark hosed feet, were roaming all over my face...

The incredible - almost unbearable - excitement and pleasure, of it! The sheer, unadulterated joy of it, was so intense, so all-consuming, so overwhelming, that I actually wondered if I might lose my sanity: wondered, if I was experiencing far, far more excitement, more pleasure, and more bliss, than the human mind was designed to cope with...

In my sublime euphoria, I now recognized a new, unprecedented emotion... Now, fresh, hot, sweet tears flowed down my cheeks, as I began to understand what this new, powerful and unsurpassable emotion, actually was...

As my hot, sweet tears, of the euphoric fulfilment of my worship and devotion coursed and streamed down my cheeks, I gave, completely, fully, and unreservedly, of my respect - of my reverence... In worship, I humbly offered my adoration, my devotion - and my love.

Now, there was no holding me back! In a frenzy of religious-like fervour, I fervently pressed my adoring lips, and I worshipfully and lovingly kissed, the broad and fleshy, warm, moist, pungently intoxicating and, variously: searching, probing, pressing, caressing, rubbing, playing, teasing - toying!... Taunting, tormenting, using, abusing, devouring, claiming, imprisoning - and, most of all, 'possessing' - dark hosed feet, of the Bank Cashier.

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - who sat comfortably, perched upon her plush, leather stool, at the first of the 4 'Stations' of the 'Northern and General Line', in the Long Room of the Northern and General Bank...

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - who was not much to look at; who was getting fat; who, on the wrong side of 40, was definitely 'past it' - over 'The Hill' - going down fast, and gaining ever-increasing momentum, in her unstoppable downward spiral... And, who used copious amounts of make-up, in her vain, 'Mutton Dressed as Lamb' attempts, in trying to ward off the unwelcome and relentless advances - the molestations - of Father Time...

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - who sat like a Queen upon her throne and, who had not even deigned, to acknowledge my serf-like presence, at her feet: either verbally, or even by so much as a look... And yet, who was - all to evidently! - a right old slapper...

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - that flirty, dirty, Bank Cashier: who, as a direct result of her 'stimulation', absent-mindedly - carelessly - went 'To Town' on my 'available' face, with both of her broad and fleshy, dark hosed soles, as she (animatedly and boistrously and, with such a level of high impropriety, that I would never before have believed possible, in a Bank employee), so inappropriately partook in such licentious, salacious badinage, with the very instigator and agitator of her 'stimulation'...

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - so shamelessly engaged, with the agent of her 'stimulation': swapping smutty innuendoes, with the cheeky charmer, with the 'cocky', 'on-the-pull', 'tap-up-artist', with the accomplished Casanova, with the lecherous little sod on the other side of her Bank Cashier's window - with who, I wanted to buy a pint! I owed him one!...

In that moment...when the Bank Cashier - that flirty, dirty, Bank Cashier: in her back-and-forth, point-scoring, lustful banter, spouted her filthy, foul-mouthed, slutty, lascivious rejoinders (Oh! The saucy wench! She was a right old slapper!), and gave at least as good as she got!...

In that moment... when the Bank Cashier - with her broad and fleshy, dark hosed feet, took 'possession' of my 'available' face and, in the throes of her 'stimulation', did her 'thing' with it... and, as she did so, heightened my already, mind-shattering, all-consuming ecstasy to a new, soaring, all-time high, with the best 'sex' I'd ever had...

And, I was crying again. I couldn't help it - I was just... too happy. After all, I was in 'Humilation Heaven'. And it was, the Ultimate... I actually was, satisfying a craving - a craving, that was like no other. A craving occasioned - by my 'exorbitant interest'...

So completely and utterly consumed and overwhelmed, was I, so lost, in my amazing new world - so lost, in 'Humiliation Heaven' - that I was only brought back to Earth, when the Receptionist, Paula, returned to the Long Room, that housed the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank.

Paula was 'escorting' another Bank customer - a man in his 60's, I guessed - who, I assumed, must also in some way have defaulted, and fallen foul of the Bank's Terms and Conditions. Like myself, and the other 3 Bank customers in the Long Room, who were paying the price of their default, the man was similarly restrained in his seat, and ready to be loaded onto the weird and surreal 'conveyor belt', of the ‘Northern and General Line’.

Wordlessly, and without ceremony, the pretty, blonde-haired Receptionist, Paula - as though she was doing the most mundane, the most unremarkable, and the most ordinary and every day thing in the world, such as supplying her colleague with a cup of tea - pushed the seat in which she was 'escorting' the defaulting Bank customer - the man in his 60's, who was already making a 'song and dance', about his treatment - and, she guided the castors of the seat onto the runners that served as rails, sideways fashion, and the small wheels rolled smoothly and silently, as Paula pushed the defaulting man along, totally ignoring his vociferous (and non-too-clean!) expressions of outrage.

And so, I found myself positioned - sitting directly behind, and with my head at exactly the same height - as the dark hosed, black pump shod feet, of the second of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

I saw, straight away, that the second of the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, had smaller, more dainty, more shapely, and prettier feet, than the first of the Bank Cashiers. I saw straight away, because the tops of her dark hosed feet, were resting on the tops of her black, office pumps, so that her beautiful, lovely - sexy! - soles, were completely exposed. In complete and open view to me...

I watched, fascinated, mesmerized, as - together, and as though sensing, like predators, the nearness and the vulnerability of their prey: and, as though with an intelligence, a mind of their own, as though acting independently, and quite of their own volition - the second Bank Cashiers' dark hosed, sexy feet, reached back; slowly, and surely, and inevitably. The second Bank Cashiers' small, dainty, shapely - sexy! - dark hosed feet, kept on coming, and coming... closer... ever closer, towards my waiting, 'available' face...

Some time later (all too soon!) - when I had eventually completed my 'punishment' - the pretty, blonde-haired Receptionist, Paula, finally pushed my seat off the runners that served as rails, at the far end of the Long Room.

The 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank, paid not the slightest bit of notice to my departure, from where they sat, comfortably, on their padded leather stools - like Queens upon their thrones - upon their elevated platform, in the Long Room... And I departed, as ignominiously as I had arrived.

Paula pushed me along in my seat, and, after tapping out the required digits on the security door, she pushed me through ahead of her, as if I was a battering ram. Paula then returned me to the Reception area, where she released me from my seat, under the watchful, staring, nudging, pointing, and curious scrutiny of the Bank’s customers, who were patiently queuing up to be dealt with, at the Bank Cashier windows.

Now, the attractive, blonde-haired Receptionist, Paula - completely misunderstanding the reasons, for my red and blotchy, and tear streaked face - smiled at me, maliciously. Then, haughtily and arrogantly, in contemptuous, belittling tones, Paula addressed me. Loudly and clearly, and in the full sight of all of the Bank’s customers, Paula gleefully announced, “NOW, David! You know what to expect, don't you!... The NEXT time you default, with the Northern and General Bank!”

As I was making my way out - my tail, well-and-truly between my legs! - of the Northern and General Bank, at hearing a familiar, raised, and cruelly castigating voice, I looked over at the Customer Services Desk, from where the harsh and strident tones were coming from. The Bank Manager, Miss Harding, I saw (and heard!) was mercilessly and humiliatingly 'tearing a strip', off yet another of the Bank’s defaulting customers - an elderly man - who, I guessed, wouldn't see 80 again...

“The Northern and General Bank, takes a very dim view - a very dim view, indeed, Arthur - upon customers who see fit to default on the Terms and Conditions of their Personal Loans,” intoned Miss Harding, coldly, while the Receptionist, Paula, nodded in agreement, as she looked on; a cruel, callous smirk, already forming at the corners of her mouth, at witnessing the great discomfiture of the visibly trembling, elderly man before her... And in her hand, I could see that she already had her 'remote' ready... ready to ZAP!

Not wanting to hear more, I began to make my way out through the Bank's front door, and so I couldn't make out very much of the elderly man's mumbled, apologetic and conciliatory-sounding reply. But, just as I was going out of the N&G's front door, I heard the familiar, snapping sound, of the restraining straps on the elderly man's seat, securing him firmly into place.

I had actually been (for 2, full hours!) in the Long Room, of the Northern and General Bank: where the 4 female Bank Cashiers sat comfortably, upon their padded leather stools - like Queens upon their thrones - atop their elevated (and elevating!) platform and, with smug, serene, far-away, self-satisfied, and complacently content expressions, upon their faces, as they dealt with the Bank’s customers, who patiently queued-up, on the other side of their Bank Cashiers' windows...

By courtesy, of the defaulting Bank customers, who were the 'reluctant commuters' (well, for the most part! I wished I had a season ticket!), who - as punishment - were forced to 'travel' between the 4 ‘Stations’, of the ‘Northern and General Line’.

As I walked the streets of the Town Centre, I mused, dazedly, upon my, all-at-once: amazing, incredible, fantastic - and, most of all, fulfilling, experience - in the Long Room, of the Northern and General Bank.

For the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank: at whose dark hosed, black, office pump shod feet, I had found myself 'Stationed' - one after the other - as I had 'travelled' the 'Northern and General Line', I had shown my own, personal brand, of exorbitant interest. An interest that; in my Dad’s own words, was, “Far too much, and far in excess, and far beyond, what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people, son.”

The 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank had: each of them, in their own, individual - unique - way, driven me half insane, lighting up in me, such raging, out-of-control wildfires of inextinguishable desires... Setting fire, in me, such an urgent, irrepressible, and undeniable need... a craving - a craving, that was a craving like no other.

As I continued to amble along the busy streets of the Town Centre, I re-lived, over and over, the thrilling details - details, that were branded into my memory, for ever! - of my incredibly exciting, unbelievable, and fantastical experience, that was like the World’s Best Adventure... I couldn't get over it - I just couldn't!

It had actually seemed to me - as I had sat, in turn, securely positioned directly behind each of the 4 Bank Cashiers - that, their dark hosed feet, for all the world, seemed to possess an intelligence: a mind of their own... That, they seemed to act independently, and quite of their own volition... as they went 'To Town', seemingly, absent-mindedly - carelessly - on my 'available' face.

The dark hosed feet, of the 4 Bank Cashiers - quite apart, from their differing shapes, sizes, odours... - seemed to have... traits, and habits... Seemed to have...their own, quirky, eccentric little... 'ways'... 'Ways', that were like their own, individual - unique - behavioural signatures. And, by which (I felt sure), I could recognize, and identify them again - as easily and as surely, as I would recognize faces.

As I continued to walk the streets of the Town Centre - a decidedly absent-minded, pedestrian - I mused, further, upon this morning’s conversation at home, at the breakfast table... I remembered, about what Dad had said: when he had spoken, heatedly and angrily - righteously - about the shameful way that the Banks treated their customers these days, and, about the "exorbitant interest", that they demanded.

Today: at the dark hosed feet of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank, I had indulged myself, in a different kind of 'exorbitant interest' - my own, personal brand - of 'exorbitant interest'... An interest that, in my Dad’s own words, was: “Far too much, and far beyond, and far in excess, of what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people, son.”

Today: at the dark hosed feet of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank - as though, at the Shrines of Goddesses - in the blissful throes of my fervent devotions: I had truly adored; truly worshipped; truly given - my love.

Today: at the dark hosed feet of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank: as they had (in each, of their own - unique - ways) gone 'To Town', seemingly, absent-mindedly - carelessly - on my 'available' face, when I had stopped at their 'Stations', as I had 'travelled' the 'Northern and General Line', I had found...

Somehow, as though my subconscious had been at work - as though the machinations of my mind, were such, that my fond reverie had directly led me here - I was somewhat surprised, to discover (though, perhaps I shouldn't have been!) where I had ended up...

I realized, then, that - in the daydreams of my musings - I had actually been standing there, for some moments. I realized, too, that I had been standing outside of, and sightlessly staring... Staring, unseeingly, through the large, plate glass windows, of the biggest Bank in Town (and, in the country) - the 'Town and City Bank'.

The 12 female Bank Cashiers, of the Town and City Bank, all had a sort of, all-at-once: decidedly dreamy, preoccupied, far-away, smug, self-satisfied, complacently contented - serene - expression on their faces, as they dealt with the Bank’s patiently queuing customers, from behind their Bank Cashiers' windows, in the 'Long Room'.

Once again, my 'blue touch-paper' was being ignited, and my excitement began to flare. I found myself being overwhelmed and consumed, by the first, incendiary sparks - of my own, personal brand - of exorbitant interest... An interest, that - in my Dad's own words - was “Far too much, and far beyond, and far in excess, of what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people, son."

As I approached the Customer Service Desk, of the Town and City Bank, I couldn’t help but notice that (as I approached, in slow motion, and as though wading through treacle), a dark-blue, office pump - of the type that all of the female Staff of the Town and City Bank wore, and, that was an integral part of their Corporate Uniform - was dangling precariously, from the very tips of the tan hosed toes, of the young and very attractive, brunette Receptionist.

The young and very attractive, brunette, pump-dangling Receptionist, who sat, importantly, at the Customer Service Desk of the Town and City Bank, gazed at me, with her supercillious, superior air, for long moments...

The Receptionist continued to stare at me, for some moments... haughtily, arrogantly - disdainfully - before addressing me... In derisive, contemptuous tones, the Receptionist inquired, of me, “Yes? Can I help you?”