The Shoe-Shine Girl.

"Sir," someone said to me while I sat on the bench reading my newspaper, "Would you like your shoes shined?"

I looked up to see a young woman. She was short but her face was beginning to show the lines of having been around long enough to know that life is a sick joke and it isn't getting any better. I looked down at my shoes. They were dusty and rather dirty. I looked at my watch. There were still twenty minutes until the car arrived to pick me up.

"Alright," I said to her, "Shine my shoes."

"I have everything set up right there," she said pointing to an alley between the post office and a bar, just a few meters away, "Would you come with me?"

I was a little miffed that I would have to move to have my shoes polished but the look on her face was so earnest that I couldn't help but move swiftly behind her. She was barefoot, which I found strange, but I didn't say anything. She must not have been able to afford shoes. I followed her midway into the alley and indeed she had a tiny little shoe shining station set up. There was a flat rock and behind it a makeshift table with shoe brushes of many sizes, various kinds of polish and a few rags on it. On the other side there was a tiny pair of shoes. Shining but old. They looked like they were hers, upon looking at her dirty feet again I realized her feet were almost as small as a child's.

"Would you put your foot on the rock please sir?" She said getting down on her knees right in from of that tiny little pedestal.

I offered my shoe to her and she sprang into action immediately. First with a rag she dusted off the dirt. Then she applied a laborious coat of polish to every inch of the shoe. She dropped really low and close to my boot to do it. As if inspecting every millimeter of the leathery surface. After that she picked up a brush and began to shine. I lost interest in watching her and went back to my newspaper. She kept at it for a good few minutes.

"The other shoe, sir?" She asked just as I was turning the page.

I looked down at my shoe to see that she had done a truly remarkable job. The shoe may have been shinier than the day I had bought them. I offered her the other boot and she repeated the same pattern. Sinking low over my boot and inhaling the scent as she slathered the polish all over it. A few minutes later, she put down the brush. I looked down to see the shiniest pair of shoes I have ever seen.

"I think...." She began with a furrowed brow, "That there's something missing. They could be shinier."

"I think you did a very good job..." I told her and started rummaging through my pocket for loose change to pay her.
"Please sir," she said, "if you could just wait two minutes, I can do even better."

I watched her as she lifted her skirt and squatted right over my shoe. It happened so quickly that before I could express my shock she was grinding against my shoe and holding herself up by her palms against the ground. Immediately, I pulled my foot back.

"Isn't that shinier, sir?" She asked as if all she had done was applied a shinier coat of polish.
"That was not..." I started to say loudly but it trailed into a whisper as I saw her there with her skirt bunched up against her waist and her cunt dripping onto the dirty alley floor, "...appropriate."
"But your shoes look so shiny," she said wrapping her arms around my other foot, "Don't you want me to do the other one?"

Despite myself I found that my foot automatically lifted itself and placed itself right under her dripping cunt. This time she held onto my leg as she rocked back and forth on my shoe. Only for a few seconds. When she pulled back the shoe glistened in a way that I had never seen before. My cock tightened against my trousers. All I could think about was pushing her against that dirty spit covered wall and fucking her dirt covered holes.

"Now your shoes look properly shined sir," she said smiling and yanking me out of my fantasy. I looked at my watch and suddenly remembered I still had my whole day in front of me.

I took a few notes out of my wallet and left them on top of her silly little rock. I thanked her and started walking out of the alley. She followed closely behind me. I sat back down on the bench and tried to forget the headiness of the past few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her bare feet, pattering along the footpath.

"Sir," I heard her asking the old man sitting outside the bar, "Would you like your shoes shined?"