As my family sat at the breakfast table, I took quick, sneaky little peeks, at the Girly magazine that my older brother by 2 years, Gary, was reading, equally sneakily, hidden from view from Mum and Dad, as it was, behind the pages of the newspaper.

More intent, upon what the next page of Gary ’s Girly mag would reveal, I had only been half listening to what Dad, who sat opposite me, had been saying.

When Gary turned the page, and I was once again disappointed, that the full page, full colour picture showed nothing below the beautiful, bare breasted model’s knees, I focused more attentively, upon Dad’s despairing tones, which had been a more and more familiar lament, due to the on-going Banking Crisis.

As I listened to him, Dad read his mail, and, he bitterly bemoaned his latest and on-going difficulties, in securing a Business Loan from his Bank, the Northern and General, at a reasonable and affordable rate of interest.

Dad was sounding like a stuck record, these days, I had thought at the time, rather unkindly, and certainly, with a lack of appreciation, that it was my Dad, who was keeping a roof over my head.

And, to listen to Dad’s voice of doom, perhaps that was a luxury that I might have to forego, if affordable credit availability didn’t improve soon!

Dad was ranting and raving, angrily, in his by now all too familiar refrain, as he 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, and she has refused me a Business Loan, at a reasonable rate of interest, that I can afford to repay.

It is absolutely vital, that I secure a Business Loan soon, if I am to have any hope, any hope at all, of keeping my Small Business going, and of keeping a roof over all of our heads”, Dad informed us all, for the umpteenth time.

I also, had received a letter that morning from Miss Harding, the Manager of the Northern and General Bank. Miss Harding had made an appointment for me to see her, at 11 am.

It was concerning the late monthly repayment of my Personal Loan from the N&G, that I had taken out with them to buy my first car, a 10 year old hatchback, at a reasonable rate of interest, just before the Banking fiasco erupted over all of our heads.

I wasn’t overly concerned, though. It was just a temporary cash flow problem that I had. I was just a bit short of money this month, that’s all, due to a problem that I had with my car, and that needed the Garage to fix it.

I had no choice, I needed my car to get to work, and, after all, I would simply make up the deficit, when I paid next month’s Personal Loan repayment.

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.

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, before returning my full attention to what Dad was saying, in his increasingly angry and despairing tones.

It was not that I was not interested, in the often very beautiful and sexy, bare breasted models. It was just that I was waiting, with bated breath, for the pictures that showed the model’s feet. THOSE, were the sort of pictures that I was interested in, and wanted to see.

But, whenever Gary turned a page, to suddenly reveal just such a picture, I had to hide my feelings, and to keep a tight reign on my sudden excitement, as my pulse quickened, for fear of Gary stumbling upon the discovery, that I had a foot fetish.

It would be just like Gary , I knew, to blab to anyone and everyone, and to all but shout it from the rooftops, and 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 19 years old, and, I was still trying to come to terms with, and still trying to understand, my amazingly strong feelings, for female feet, and the strange and powerful fantasies, that female feet evoked in me, and that I was continually having, about them.

Female feet, and the strange and increasingly powerful fantasies that I was continually having about them were, I realized, taking over my life, more and more each day, as I spent more and more of my time, looking at them, and thinking about them, and fantasizing about them.

And, 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 obsession.

Female feet, drove me crazy – but, in a good way. Oh, yes, in a good way!

But, each day, it seemed, my desire and my need for female feet, grew, a little stronger, and a little more urgent, and a little more desperate, and, it was a craving, like no other.

But, I was fearful, oh, so fearful of discovery, and, just the idea, just the very idea, of asking a girl, to let me sniff her feet, to let me kiss her feet, to ask her to let me do to her feet, what I longed and needed to do to them, to sniff them, to kiss them, to adore them, and to worship them, and, to satisfy a craving, that was like no other, was quite out of the question!

I could never bring myself to do it! Unthinkable!

Firstly, no way, did I have the guts, the bottle, to ask a girl. Not even if I had been dating her for a while.

Secondly, I was way too scared, that she might be disgusted, or ‘weirded out’, by such an outlandish proposal, and that she might denounce me, and that she might tell all and sundry, and, that she might put her knowledge of my foot fetish, out there, into 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? And, would I EVER get, to satisfy a craving, that was like no other?

When Gary turned the page of his Girly mag again, and I was once more disappointed, that there was nothing to see, of the gorgeous and bare breasted model, below her knees, I scooped up another spoon of cornflakes, and I concentrated more fully, on what Dad was saying to Mum, who was sat beside him, and opposite Gary.

“Small Businesses like ours, Anne, are going under, EVERY DAY!

The Bank used to THROW money at me! When it suited THEM! And when I didn’t NEED it! But NOW, though, I can’t get a PENNY out of the N&G, except at exorbitant interest!

We taxpayers, Anne, bailed THEM out, to save THEM from going under, through their own appalling mismanagement, and their GREED!

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!

THEY, have got their Bank Bonuses, and WE, have got the Recession!

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, 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, there is just no telling, how hard they will squeeze!

The Banks used to be polite, and respectful, towards their customers. But, nowadays, their attitude STINKS! They are haughty and arrogant, and they are getting worse, all the time!

The banks, Anne, I have noticed, are becoming even more increasingly disdainful and contemptuous of their customers, and there is just no telling, where it will all end.

The Banks, these days, seem to have no limits, moral or otherwise, and I believe there is NOTHING, that they won’t stoop to.

And, like I say, Anne, I can’t get a Business Loan out of Miss Harding at the N&G, except at exorbitant interest”.

That was 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 am, 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 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 I didn’t want to interrupt him.

So, I said my goodbyes, and I headed into Town.

I thought that I would while away the time before my 11 am 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, all the way, and then play with it a little, with her foot, absent minded, as she looked through the 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 appointment with Miss Harding, the Manager, of the Northern and General Bank.

At the appointed time of 11 am, 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 Cashiers 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.

The 4 female N&G Bank Cashiers all had, I saw, a sort of decidedly dreamy, preoccupied, far away, smug, self satisfied, complacently contented, and serene expression on their faces, as they were seated behind their Bank Cashiers windows.

Then, I was brought out of my curious reverie, by an imperious, barely civil, disdainful, and haughty and arrogant female voice. “Yes? Can I help you?”, inquired the Receptionist, of me, from where she sat, at the Customer Services Desk.

The Receptionist was young, about my own age, and, she was very, very pretty, indeed. She had 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 pumps that all of the female N&G Bank Staff wore, and which were an integral part, of their Corporate Uniform.

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

Then, I sat down on the seat opposite to the Receptionist, and, to my surprise and pleasure, I found that the seat was very comfortable, with padded leather arm and headrests. And, I thought to myself, facetiously, Dad might not be able to get a Business Loan, 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.

“Good morning, Miss. I’ve come to see the Manager”, I said to her, politely and respectfully.

Not taking her eyes from mine, the Receptionist pushed a button on her Desk, and she said into her intercom, “your 11 am appointment is here, Miss Harding”.

I was unsettled, by the seemingly penetrating intensity, of the Receptionist’s blue eyed gaze. It was not that I was so nervous, because she was so pretty, though that was partly it, or even because she might have caught me staring, at her sexily dangling black pump, but, I was unsettled, because she seemed to be looking at me, as if she knew something, that I didn’t, and, 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, and she sat beside Paula, the Receptionist.

Miss Harding also had blonde hair, lots of it, and it was piled up on her head, and it was 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.

Maybe she model’s in her spare time, I mused. Maybe, she…….

Almost immediately, I heard those exciting, unmistakable, tell tale, softly rustling sounds, that meant that both of the female Bank Employees facing me, were easing their dark hosed feet from their black pumps, which was the footwear, that all of the N&G female Bank Staff wore, and that was an integral part of their Corporate Uniform, 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, I felt my face redden, and grow hot, as I listened, to their maddeningly seductive rustlings, as they played with their black pumps under the Customer Services Desk, and, I began to quail, under the gazes of their continued silent scrutiny.

Then, and after what had seemed an age, though it must have been well under a minute, the Bank Manager, Miss Harding, to my astounded 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 Cashiers 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.

The Northern and General Bank, David, takes a very dim view, with regards to the late repayment of it’s Loans.

And, as you will be aware, David, 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 to supply you with either written or verbal notice, to change the Terms and Conditions of your Personal Loan Agreement, in the event of your defaulting on it, and, with immediate effect.

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 mortified, at having every customer in the Bank listening in, on the humiliating and belittling dressing down dealt out to me, by Miss Harding, 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 humiliation, and my profound sense of shock, at this so sudden and so unexpected and so severe reprimand, by Miss Harding, I could only muster a pathetically feeble, and wholly ineffectual reply in my defence.

“I am very sorry, Miss Harding, very sorry indeed. But, you see, I had to spend the money on repairs to my car, that cost a lot more than the Garage’s original estimate, and I need my car to get to work. 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 authoritatively said to the Receptionist, “take him away, Paula”.

For long moments, I simply sat there, confused, perplexed, baffled.

Take me away? Take me where? And, what for?

Then 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, and she pointed it at my seat, as if she was changing channels on TV, and pressed a button.

Immediately, and to my heightened sense of shock and bewilderment, 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, and my sense of unreality, rocked me!

And, such was the measure, of my dumbfounded amazement, that, I mindlessly obeyed the instruction of the Receptionist, Paula, when she stood behind my seat, and she ordered me, peremptorily, “David! Lift up your feet!”

Then, and in full view of the queuing, staring, nudging, pointing Bank customers, Paula pushed me, like an invalid in a wheelchair in an old people’s Home, to a security door, and, after tapping out the required digits on the security lock, Paula pushed me through, and into the Long Room, where the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, sat comfortably, upon their padded leather stools, and where they were, I saw, seated at an elevated position, upon a raised platform.

But, nothing that had happened so far, could have prepared me, for the incredible and mind blowing shock, of what happened next, and of what was in store for me, in the Long Room, and that shook me, to the absolute epicentre of my being.

The Receptionist, Paula, without a word, guided the castors of my seat, sideways fashion, and into a pair 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.

I had numbly and dumbly registered, in the moments before Paula had guided the small wheels of my seat into the runners, that there were already 3 Bank customers, 2 men and a woman, restrained in their seats, just as I was, and they were 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.

Then, my profound perplexity, and my dumbfounded amazement, and my numbed befuddlement, turned, on the instant, and my imagination ran wild, when Paula pushed my seat along the runners, sideways fashion, and, after my restrained and seated lower body had rolled a few feet, under the raised platform upon which the 4 female Bank Cashiers were seated, and then come to a stop, I realized, that I had arrived at the first ‘Station’, on the ‘Northern and General Line’, when I found that my head was perfectly positioned, and was exactly behind, and was at exactly the same height, as the dark hosed, black pump shod feet, of the first in line of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

Then, the Receptionist, Paula, without a word, and as if she had just done the most mundane, and 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 Reception.

Then, as I watched, transfixed, literally as well as figuratively, the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot began to emerge, from it’s slightly tight fitting black pump.

As though it sensed my presence, like a predator, sensing the nearness and the vulnerability of it’s prey, and, as though it had a mind, and an intelligence all of it’s own, and as though it acted independently, and quite of it’s own volition, with a slight rustle of hose rubbing against leather, and with a distinct whooshing sound, of suddenly released, warm, moist air, the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot began to emerge, as though from it’s lair, as it slowly eased itself out of the retaining and restraining confines of it’s slightly tight fitting black pump, and, as I watched, fascinated, mesmerized, and half paralyzed, with an incredible, mind shattering excitement, the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot, reached back, slowly, but surely, until it filled my entire vision, and kept coming, and coming, closer, ever closer, towards my adoring and enraptured, waiting, and available face.

Now, I was consumed, and overwhelmed, by 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”.

And, I was wildly aroused, ‘down there’, like never before. Like NEVER before!

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

I was half delirious, as I watched the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot, coming closer, and closer, ever closer, towards my waiting and available face.

I saw the glory, the wondrous glory, of the Bank Cashier’s right, dark hosed foot, in perfect, graphic, glorious, extreme close-up, and high definition detail.

The first in line, of the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, had quite a large, meaty and fleshy foot, quite broad, and with a deep, generous arch.

Her foot had a big, round, and hard and solid looking heel, and, I could see, through the teasing, tantalizing, and tormenting, gossamer thin material of the dark hose, the slightly rough skin, at the outer edges of the bottom of her big, round, and hard and solid looking heel.

But, what excited me and mesmerized me the most, was the amazing sight, of her dark hose covered toes, coming closer, and closer, until finally, and inevitably, the Bank Cashier’s long, splayed, dark hosed toes, found my nose, and cupped it, and locked onto it, just exactly, as if that was what it was there for.

Now, my shocked amazement, was complete!

I could not believe, I was scared to believe, that this was happening to me!

REALLY happening, to me!

I thought, that I would wake up from this impossible dream, at any moment, to find the sheets of my bed in tangled disarray, from the fevered throes of my unconscious ravings!

Never before, NEVER before, had I known such exhilaration! And such happiness!

Through my fantasies, I could only dream of such exhilaration.

And now, not only was my dream coming true, but, the magical realities of it, were far beyond even my most cherished fantasies, and almost too wonderful to bear.

I could plainly hear, the futile efforts, and the useless struggles, of the other 3 Bank customers, the 2 men and the woman, as, restrained in their seats, just as I was, and forced to face front, they continually complained, and protested, bitterly and resentfully, in their plaintive and tormented tones, at such despicable and outrageous treatment, and at the diabolical and abominable usage, to which they were being subjected, by the Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, at whose dark hosed, black pump shod feet, they were so securely, and so perfectly positioned.

I, though, did NOT complain!

I, though, did NOT struggle!

I inhaled deeply, of those long, warm, moist, clutching, clamping, claiming, imprisoning, and, most of all, possessing, dark hosed toes of the Bank Cashier, that filled my head and filled my whole world, with their exciting, and intoxicatingly pungent stink.

Then, I realized, that I was crying. I was actually crying.

Hot, sweet tears ran down my cheeks, as, I was hopelessly and helplessly overpowered and overwhelmed, by a wonderful and magical euphoria, and, by the sheer mind shattering magnitude, of my rapturous ecstasy.

My overloaded senses, were on fire! They raged, out of control!

The sight, of her foot! The sight, of the Bank Cashier’s 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 contact, of her dark hose covered foot flesh, as she pressed it into my face!

The smell, of her foot! The pungent, intoxicating aroma, of her dark hose covered, stinky toes, as she clamped them to my nose, and clutched it, firmly, like a perching, exotic bird!

I wanted this incredible, amazing experience, to go on, and on and on!

I wanted to go on, sniffing the Bank Cashier’s fragrant, intoxicatingly pungent, dark hose covered toes!

I wanted to go on, gazing at her big, round, and hard and solid looking heel, with the slightly rough skin, at the outer edges of the bottom of her heel!

I wanted it to go on, and on, and on!

Never before, NEVER, before, had I known such bliss!

Then, and after what must have been several minutes, the Bank Cashier’s dark hosed toes released my nose, and, the large and fleshy sole of her dark hosed foot, began exploring my face, rubbing it, pressing it, playing with it, using it, abusing it, claiming it, and, most of all, possessing it.

Then, my blissful, euphoric, rapturous ecstasy, was heightened even further, when I saw the Bank Cashier’s left, dark hosed foot ease itself, with a whooshing sound, of suddenly released, warm and moist air, from the retaining and restraining confines of it’s slightly tight fitting black pump, and reach back, slowly, but surely, until it filled my entire vision, and kept coming, and coming, closer, and ever closer, towards my waiting and available face.

Then, I thought my heart would burst, as both of the Bank Cashier’s large and fleshy, warm, moist, pungently intoxicating, searching, probing, rubbing, pressing, using, abusing, claiming, and, most of all, possessing, dark hosed feet, were all over my face, and, the incredible, almost unbearable excitement and pleasure of it, the sheer, unadulterated joy of it, was so intense, and so all consuming, and so overwhelming, that I wondered if I might actually lose my sanity, in the total belief, that I was experiencing far, far more excitement, and pleasure, and bliss, than the human mind was designed to cope with.

My almost unbearable excitement and pleasure, my rapturous ecstasy, was so intense, and so all consuming, and so overwhelming, and so white hot and fever pitch, and my euphoria so sublime, that I was reduced, to a state of total abandon, to an almost mindless, delicious delirium.

Then, I realized, that I was experiencing, and being overcome by, an even more powerful, and unsurpassable emotion.

Now, fresh, hot, sweet tears flowed down my cheeks, as I understood, what this even more powerful and unsurpassable emotion was.

Fulfilment.

At last, I had been given a shrine, at which to worship, and at which to offer my devotions.

At last, I had been given an outlet, for my love.

As my hot, sweet tears, of my rapture and ecstasy, and of the euphoric fulfilment of my worship and devotion, coursed and streamed down my cheeks, I gave completely, and fully, and unreservedly, of my worship, of my devotion, and of my love.

In a frenzy of religious like fervour, I fervently pressed my adoring lips, and I worshipfully and lovingly kissed, the large and fleshy, warm, moist, pungently intoxicating, searching, probing, pressing, rubbing, playing, teasing, toying, taunting, tormenting, using, abusing, devouring, claiming, and, most of all, possessing, dark hosed feet, of the Bank Cashier.

Lovingly, I kissed the dark hosed feet of the Bank Cashier, again and again and again, and over and over and over, and, so completely and utterly consumed and overwhelmed, was I, by my irrepressible desire, and by my irresistible need, that was a craving, like no other, to adore and to worship, and to offer my devotions, and to give my love, and, in so doing, attain my own glorious fulfilment, that, I was only stopped, when the Receptionist, Paula, returned to the Long Room that housed the 4 female Bank Cashiers of the Northern and General Bank, with another Bank customer, an elderly lady, who I assumed must also in some way have defaulted, and fallen foul of the Bank’s Rules, of their Terms and Conditions, and who was similarly restrained securely in her seat, and ready to be loaded onto the weird and surreal conveyor belt, of the ‘Northern and General Line’.

Then, and without a word, the pretty, blonde haired Receptionist, Paula, as though she was doing the most mundane, and 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 transporting the defaulting Bank customer, the elderly lady, 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 elderly lady along, totally ignoring the elderly lady’s high umbrage, and her vociferous expressions, of sorely affronted outrage, and bitter resentment, a few feet along the runners to where I was, which in turn, pushed my own seat along the runners, like a coal wagon being shunted along a railway sidings.

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 pettier feet, than the first of the Bank Cashiers.

I saw straight away, because the tops of her dark hosed feet, both of them, were resting on the tops of her black pumps, so that her beautiful, lovely, and sexy soles were completely exposed, and in complete and open view to me.

Then, 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, and a mind of their own, and, as though acting independently, and quite of their own volition, the second Bank Cashier’s dark hosed feet, reached back, slowly, and surely, and inevitably.

The second Bank Cashier’s small, dainty, shapely, and pretty, dark hosed feet kept coming, and coming, closer, and ever closer, towards my waiting,  and available face.

And so, for the second time, I was consumed, and completely taken over, and helplessly and hopelessly overwhelmed, as I indulged myself, in my own, personal brand, of exorbitant interest, which was, in my Dad’s own words, “far too much, and far in excess, and far beyond, what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people”.

And so, for the second time, I gave fully, and completely, and unreservedly, of my love.

As I knew that I must, to satisfy a craving, like no other, and, in so doing, attain fulfilment.

Glorious fulfilment.

Some time later, 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, that housed the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

The 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank, paid not the slightest bit of notice, to my ignominious departure, from where they sat comfortably on their padded leather stools, upon their raised platform, in the Long Room.

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, and she 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 Cashiers windows.

Then, the pretty, blonde haired Receptionist, Paula, misunderstanding the reasons, for my red and blotchy, and tear streaked face, haughtily and arrogantly, and derisively and contemptuously, and loudly and clearly, and in the full sight of all of the Bank’s customers, addressed me. “NOW, David! You know what to expect, the NEXT time you default, with the Northern and General Bank!”

Then, as I was making my way out of the Northern and General Bank, I looked over at the Customer Services Desk, where the Bank Manager, Miss Harding, I saw, was mercilessly and humiliatingly tearing a strip off another of the Bank’s defaulting customers. “The Northern and General Bank, takes a very dim view……..”, I heard her tell the middle aged man, who was sat opposite her, and the Receptionist, Paula.

I didn’t hear the middle aged man’s apologetic and conciliatory sounding reply, but, as I was going out of the Bank’s exit door, I listened to Miss Harding say, contemptuously, derisively, belittlingly, disdainfully, and dismissively, “take him away, Paula”.

When I looked at my watch, I was astounded to discover, that I had actually been in the Long Room of the Northern and General Bank, for 2 hours!

I had actually been in the Long Room, of the Northern and General Bank, where the 4 female Bank Cashiers sat comfortably, upon their padded leather stools, and atop their raised platform, from where they dealt with the Bank’s customers, who queued up, patiently, on the other side of their Bank Cashiers windows, and, where they were provided, by courtesy of the Northern and General Bank, with a well supplied ‘conveyor belt’, of defaulting Bank customers, who were the reluctant commuters, (well, for the most part! I wished I had a season ticket!), who travelled between the 4 ‘Stations’, of the ‘Northern and General Line’, and, who were securely restrained in their seats, and who were perfectly positioned, and who were available, if not amenable, at their dark hosed, black pump shod feet, for them to use, just as they liked, for 2 hours!

I had actually been in the Long Room, I was astounded to realize, for 2 hours!

I could not believe it! To me, it had seemed no more than 20 minutes!

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

The 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank, for whose dark hosed, black pump shod feet, I had shown my own, personal brand, of exorbitant interest, which was, in my Dad’s own words, “far too much, and far in excess, and far beyond, what is reasonable, and what would be considered normal, by most people”, had, each of them, in their own, individual and unique way, driven me half insane, with wildfires of inextinguishable desires, and, with an urgent, irrepressible, and undeniable need, that was a craving, like no other, I had fervently pressed my lips, into the dark hosed soles of their foot flesh, in adoring and worshipful kisses.

And, as though the Bank Cashiers, were the Goddesses at whose shrines I worshipped, I had offered my devotions, and, I had given, completely, totally, utterly, and unreservedly, of my love.

And, in so doing, I attained my own, glorious fulfilment.

The 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank, were totally anonymous, to me.

And, I did not know, whether they accepted my passionate expressions of adoration, and worship, and love, with a sort of grateful pleasure, tinged perhaps, with a gratification, born of their sense of deserving entitlement, or, whether they accepted them, with a haughty and arrogant, and casual and uncaring  indifference.

Or whether, perhaps, the Bank Cashiers cared only, that they were afforded the opportunity, and the freedom, to use and abuse, and to taunt and torment, and to cause misery and anguish, with impunity, to the defaulting Bank customers, at their dark hosed, black pump shod feet, and, that they did not care, in the least, not in the slightest, that I offered my devotions to them, and that I gave them, completely, totally, utterly, and unreservedly, my love, and, in so doing, attained my own, glorious fulfilment.

But, I did not mind. What was truly important, and what really mattered, was that the Bank Cashiers DID accept my love.

And, that I DID attain, my own, glorious fulfilment.

As I continued to amble along the busy streets of the Town Centre, I relived, over and over, my incredibly exciting, and unbelievable, and fantastical experience, that was like the world’s best adventure, at the dark hosed, black pump shod feet, of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

It had 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, and a mind of their own, and, that they seemed to act independently, and quite of their own volition.

It seemed crazy, to even think it, but, to me, the dark hosed feet of the 4 Bank Cashiers, seemed to actually have personalities, all of their own.

The 4 Bank Cashier’s dark hosed feet, seemed to have traits, and habits, and their own quirky and eccentric little ways, that were like their own, individual, and unique behavioural signatures, by which, I felt sure, they could be recognised and identified, as easily and as surely, as faces.

As I continued to walk the streets of the Town Centre, an absent minded pedestrian, I mused further, upon this morning’s conversation at home, at the breakfast table.

I remembered, what Dad had said, when he had spoken heatedly and angrily, about the way that the Banks treated their customers these days, and, about the exorbitant interest, that they demanded.

But, today, at the Northern and General Bank, I had discovered a different kind of exorbitant interest, that was my own, personal brand, of exorbitant 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”.

It was a craving, like no other, and, one that I had fully and completely indulged myself in, and luxuriated in, and revelled in, as it took over me, and as it took control of me, and as it consumed me, and as it overwhelmed me, body and mind, fully totally, completely, utterly, as I had offered my devotions, and as I had kissed, adored, and worshipped, and as I had given, completely, and unreservedly, my love, and in so doing, attained my own, glorious fulfilment, at the dark hosed, black pump shod feet, of the 4 female Bank Cashiers, of the Northern and General Bank.

Then, somehow, and as though my subconscious had been at work, and as though it had led me here, I was somewhat surprised to discover, that I had actually been standing outside of, and, in the daydreams of my musings, that I had been sightlessly staring, through the plate glass windows, of the biggest Bank in Town, the Countrywide and National Bank.

Then, having come to my senses, I pushed open the door of the Countrywide and National Bank, and I went inside.

Immediately, my pulse quickened, and started to race, as I saw that the Bank Cashiers windows were Staffed, by 12, exclusively female Bank Cashiers.

The 12 female Bank Cashiers, of the Countrywide and National Bank, I saw, varied greatly, in their ages, and in the level of the attractiveness of their individual appearances.

But, there was something, that I couldn’t help but notice, about them, and that was that all 12 of the female Bank Cashiers seemed to have one, very strange thing in common.

The 12 female Bank Cashiers, of the Countrywide and National Bank, all had a sort of decidedly dreamy, preoccupied, far away, smug, self satisfied, complacently contented, and serene expression on their faces, as they dealt with the Bank’s customers, from behind their Bank Cashiers windows, in the Long Room.

Once again, I found myself being consumed, and overwhelmed, by my own, personal brand, of exorbitant 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”, and, that was a craving, like no other.

As I approached the Customer Service Desk, of the Countrywide and National Bank, I couldn’t help but notice, as I approached, in slow motion, and as though wading through treacle, that, a dark blue pump, of the type that all of the female Staff of the Countrywide and National 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 pretty, dark haired Receptionist.

The young and pretty, dark haired, pump dangling Receptionist, who sat at the Customer Service Desk, of the Countrywide and National Bank, inquired of me, haughtily, arrogantly, derisively, disdainfully, and contemptuously, “yes? Can I help you?”

“Yes, please. I’d like to take out a Loan”, I said.

                                                                                                     THE  END.

COMMUNITY SERVICE continues, in Part ELEVEN.