Template:HIGH'HEELS

We Are Merely Animals


In a world so filled with great monuments and statues to the goddesses of beauty, I feel almost bad about saying that the most beautiful thing in the world to me would have to be Mary Cylch's toes. But it's true. She had toes prettier than anything else I'd ever seen. When she came up to me on a Monday night, I had to remember to look slightly above her as to keep from showing how much I wanted to get those puppies in my mouth, or at least in my hand.

But of course, she was all business. We sat at a desk, just long enough that I could barely see her toes, and she asked me, "What's the situation with the suicide prevention?"

"It seems to be working. They're not on any particularly deadly trajectory as of now."

"Good." She shifted, and her toes came dangerously close to my foot. I swear I could feel their heat through my shoe, however much I tried not to look after that. After all, to her, I was an overpaid janitor, the guy who did the dirty work while they all stood and watched. Who knows how high above me she was on the chain of command.

I realized that she had been talking and I hadn't heard most of what she had said. Thankfully, it was just the latest medicines. The most humorous thing about that was that, as I looked at the stats sheet she had slid in front of me, I realized that she didn't actually know what was on it.

I chastised myself as she droned on. "Maybe this sheet is wrong," I thought, trying not to take her lightly because she was a hot lady and not a boring old man. But I knew that in this specific case, I probably would have laughed at the old man too.

"Is that clear?" Her azure eyes searched me like the high-tech scanners she probably used every day when taking the tissue samples of the children she wouldn't even look at. Thankfully, she couldn't detect the mixture of respect, scorn, and mild arousal in my "Roger that", and she went away from me without another word.

I looked at the sheet again, just to be sure I wasn't wrong. Yup. The names she had said were right for the most part, but it was obvious that she had merely skimmed it. I reasoned that she might have been trying to make herself feel more important by bossing me around, given that I couldn't do anything about it, and that made me feel happy for some reason.

"Just let it go," I muttered to myself as I adjusted the doses. "Just let it all go."

I couldn't help but grin as I went to medicate the teens. The scientists insisted on calling them "wards", as if they had nowhere else to go, but I knew from experience that at least some of them had family who wanted to see them, from all the calls Joe fielded where he had to scream over someone on the other line.

Probably the only one I would really call a ward was Lupa. I didn't know her real name, but I did know that she was too fragile to actually take medicines. In fact, she was so fragile that when her parents had dumped her on the street, they broke the bones in her arm. That wound had healed, but she still had too many wounds to count without feeling an acute sense of discomfort.

"Hey," she called as I walked by her cell, "anything happen recently?"

I wanted to kiss her, to lick her toes until she squealed, but I just thought about it instead. Her toes were longer than I had thought they would be. I couldn't help but realize that if her toes were eight inches long, they were very literally too long for her to give me a footjob. I imagined her toes running down my spine and cringed with how I was objectifying her. I wanted to suck all of the grime off of her toes