Airport service - a short story

Having to catch a 1am flight is a pain. Doubly so when it's delayed. Sitting in an empty waiting area playing on my phone, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing up I have to do a double take at the beauty that has just taken a seat across from me. Obviously a frequent business flyer from the way you are dressed and wear and tear on your bag, but all I see is a goddess descended from the heavens. Assuming you just came in on a flight I guess it's the same difference.

You place your bag in front of you, slip off your shoes and rest your feet on it. I cant help but watch you flex your feet and toes. My eyes follow the curve of your calf to the enticing peek of your thigh as it disappears under the hem of your skirt. What paradise must lie beneath that thin material. As I raise my eyes to your breasts I feel a stirring in my pants. How is it that an angel from on high is walking among us mortals?

A slight clearing of your throat jolts me as I look up into the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. Wide eyed I realize you caught me checking you out. I see a slight grin as I tear my eyes away from you and back to my phone. The bulge in my pants clear for you to see now.

I keep my head down but cant help but sneak glances as you move to get something from your bag. You pull out your glasses but before you can get them out of the case it drops, bouncing off your knee into the floor.

"Let me get that for you" I stammer as I jump to retrieve them.

In my haste I trip and land on my knees. I grab the case and hold it up to you with one hand.

You take the case and look down at me. Two seconds that seem like years our eyes meet. You drop them again. I quickly pick them up and hand them to you again. You take them and I see a twinkle in your eyes. Your grin goes away and your face takes on a firmer tone. You drop the case again.

My mind reels. Are you playing with me? What is it you want? My mind races and lands on the fact that you deserve to be served. Not flippantly handing you something, but offering it to you in a manner your position demands.

I take the case in both hands and offer it up to you from my kneeling position.

Your lips curve up slightly as you take it from me. That little acknowledgement sends my heart into overdrive. I had pleased you.

"My feet need a massage" you say as you put your glasses on to look at your phone.

Dumbfounded I look up at you for a moment. You look back at me over your glasses and raise one eyebrow. Your eyes quickly glance at your feet and back at me. It was all the command I needed.

"Yes Ma'am" I say as I shift around to kneel at your feet.

My trembling hands take your foot and begin to work my thumbs into the sole. Working my way up and down from heel to toe. The nylon slick against my hands, I try to massage the weariness of the day from your feet. Lost in my service I realize this is where I belong. You not only deserve to be pampered, I owe it to you. I felt as if I was working on a debt that could never be repaid. A debt I would gladly toil on for the rest of my days if need be. You are a Woman, a Superior, and I am just a slave here to serve you.

I lost track of time as I rubbed your feet. Gently massaging each toe. I faintly came to when I heard my flight announced but sank back into the depths of servitude. I had been given a task. It must be done.

"Time for me to go." Your voice shakes me from my service.

I let go of your feet and look up at my Goddess.

"What do you say when a woman allows you to be useful?"

"Thank you Ma'am" I sheepishly reply.

"Good boy" You say. A tap of your perfect toe against my nose emphasizes each word.

"Now put my shoes on for me"

I pick up each shoe and gently slide it back into place.I remain on my knees as you lower your feet to the floor and stand.

"Stay as you are until I am out of site, then you are dismissed."

I dumbly nod my head. Of course I shall kneel in your presence. Anything else is unthinkable.

I watch your bottom sway as you walk away from me. A bottom that should be worshiped long and often.

"You might want to change your pants boy" You say as your heels click off into the distance.

I glance down at the large wet stain on my pants leg and then back up quickly, but Mistress is gone.

I kneel in place. Just one more boy in one more airport you have left kneeling and yearning to serve you again.