fey

Shopping at the very busy Supermarket, every Saturday, used to be a dull, tiresome, irksome sort of…non-event – a burdensome, necessary chore, that just needed to be done.



That is, until about 2 months ago, when all of that changed…



Since then, Saturday’s don’t come around quick enough for me. I have been seeing the Supermarket in a whole new, rose-tinted light and, my weekly shop has become an exciting, much looked forward to, and keenly anticipated…adventure – that I just have to do…



I suppose I am (or was!) typical, of most single males who shop for themselves: in that my primary aim, is to be in and out of the Supermarket with my groceries, in record-breaking time. And, with the minimal expenditure of my precious time – if not of my hard earned money; my style of shopping, being decidedly inconducive to taking advantage of any bargains that may be on offer…



I had just collected a shopping trolley and, as usual, wanting to make my weekly visit to the Supermarket as brief and as painless and as pfaff-free as humanly possible, I was just about to make a bee-line down an aisle to my first grocery item, when I was stopped in my tracks – as if I had walked into an invisible brick wall.



For, standing with her back to me, as she chatted to a female Supermarket colleague, was a short, slightly built lady with short, black hair, who can’t be much more than 5 feet tall and, who’s figure I can only describe as exquisitely proportioned, and who I later discovered to be one of the Supermarket Supervisors.



She wore – and I have not, over the last 2 months (of my burgeoning obsession) seen her wear anything else – black, ballet flats, and black, cotton stockings (I think they are), of which all of the female staff wear, along with the green, jacket-like garments, that complete their Supermarket uniform ensemble.



The ‘Pixie Lady’ – this was how I thought of her, from the very first moment of my laying eyes upon her, and how I still think of her now – was standing, with all of her weight on her right leg, and, she was pressing the toes of her black cotton stockinged left foot onto the back of the heel of her left, black ballet flat, and causing the toe end of her supple, highly flexible, and well-worn looking shoe to see-saw up and down, rhythmically.



And – to me – hypnotically…as though my eyes were being drawn and directed, by some kind of…by some kind of…power.



After inexplicably enjoying – very much so! – this somehow exciting, splendid entertainment for a few moments, I thought it prudent that I had better move on, before my (rather obvious!) interest, began to attract, well…interest!



But then, I found myself frozen still, as immobile as a statue. It was as if I had stepped into a puddle of super-glue and, my decidedly mundane thoughts, of collecting together my list of grocery items, flitted and scattered from my mind – like a flock of homing pigeons being released to take a few turns around the sky – as I watched this little Pixie-like lady; slip her shapely little foot back into her left shoe; shift her weight to her left leg, and then slip her decidedly dainty right foot out of her black ballet flat.



At the sight, my mouth went dry, my pulse quickened, and my heart pounded harder, from sheer excitement, as the Pixie-like lady rested the top of her right foot on her now empty shoe, revealing the whole of the sole of her black cotton stockinged right foot and, I watched, spellbound, as she began to absent-mindedly flex and scrunch the toes of her decidedly dainty little foot, as she chatted away to her colleague…



Well, I wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, now!



But, why?



What was happening, to me?



What was…stirring, in me?



What was overcoming me? What was overwhelming me?



Controlling me?



Ruling me?



The sort of commonplace, everyday…’shoeplaying’ scene playing out before me, had never before occasioned an interest for me – let alone, this sudden, mysterious, seemingly irresistable…compulsion, that felt like a…’command’, to watch.



The ‘Pixie Lady’ – as I had already found myself thinking of her – had firmly rooted me to the spot, with her seemingly irresistible, Pixie-like powers. I suddenly found myself as helpless, as if I had casually and carelessly wandered, waist-deep, into a quicksand bog, and finding my ability to move, abruptly and comprehensively disabled.



I must have stood there and stared, for some time, watching the Pixie Lady switch her weight from shapely foot to shapely foot, as she allowed her feet some brief relief; a fleeting, temporary respite from supporting her weight and, to my absolute amazement, I found myself being most marvallously entertained, as I ‘checked out’ the Pixie Lady’s excitingly active, teasingly playful – mesmerizing – black cotton stockinged, dainty, sexy feet.



My astonishment reached new heights, as I realized that I was actually becoming aroused – incredibly aroused – as I continued to stare, and watch the Pixie Lady; ease one foot from her black, ballet flat; scrunch and flex her toes; slip her foot back into her shoe, and then repeat the procedure with her other foot… What the hell? What was going on with me, here? Why couldn’t I look away? Why couldn’t I move, just walk on?



But then, I reaslised that I had allowed my ‘trespassing’ eyes to linger just a little too long, as I saw that the Pixie Lady’s colleague (who was facing me) was regarding me with a stange, curious expression and, the Pixie Lady, upon seeing her colleague’s curiously distracted expression, turned around to face me, too, and I saw her pretty, ‘Pixie’ face for the first time…



As the Pixie Lady made direct eye contact with me, I felt a somehow…disturbing, unsettling, strange – ‘Other Worldly’, almost – thrill of excitement…



It was a kind of excitement, that I had not experienced either before or since, except when looking directly into the eyes of the Pixie Lady: a kind of excitement, tinged, with an unknowable and un-nameable tingle, of something…unnerving, of something…dangerous: like fear – like a fear, of the unknown…



It was a strange – Supernatural, almost – sense of ominous perturbation. It was a fear, that told me that I was somehow playing with fire… And it was a fear that warned me, that if I wasn’t careful, I might get my fingers burned…



As the Pixie Lady had looked directly into my eyes, for the first time, I found it hard to shake off the crazy notion, that I had felt an almost physical sensation, like fingertips, gently caressing my skin, and, of a mental…intrusion, of…invasion.



As if an alien inteligence had just established a sort of mental conduit – a sort of docking station, with my mind. And, I had the disquieting presentiment, that my ‘sealed door’ was about to be opened…



I could almost actually feel, the Pixie Lady’s seemingly all-seeing eyes: like gently caressing fingertips, as they explored and charted the physical configurations of my outer, and open ‘self’.



I could almost actually feel, the intrusive probing of the Pixie Lady’s seemingly all-knowing mind: invading my own mind, as she explored and assimilated the mental dimensions of my inner, and secret ‘self’.



The Pixie Lady’s mind was, I felt sure, busily going about the unspeakable business, of searching; of gleaning knowledge, of anything and everything about me – everything!



Discovering, as easily as turning the pages of a well-thumbed book, my most cherished memories and dreams. Of seeking out – and, leaving no stone unturned, finding – my most secret thoughts.



And I felt, as though there wasn’t a thing that I could do about it – not a thing!



Though I knew, that such a ridiculous thing could not possibly be happening, nonetheless, I railed, against this perceived outrage – because I was absolutely convinced, that it was.



Like a powerful spyware programme invading a near-obsolete computer, the Pixie Lady was scanning my inner, and secret ‘self’. The Pixie Lady was, I felt sure, systematically and efficiently exploring all of the corridors of my mind and, discovering with ease, all of my secret compartments; intimately acquainting herself, with the contents of my ‘files’, as, undeterred and unstoppable, she effortlessly side-stepped the hopeless inadequacy of my ‘anti-virus’ security systems, like an unnaturally fleet-of-foot ‘Trojan Horse’, and laughing disdainfully, as she easily dodged or cleared the ineffectual obstacles of my ‘firewalls’, like a World Champion equestrian at a ‘beginners’ show jumping event.



Simply put; I had no hiding-place, from the Pixie Lady.



Now, I felt as though the Pixie Lady…’knew’ me… Now, I felt as though the Pixie Lady could…’re-programme’ me… I was sure, that I could actually feel the Pixie Lady – through her unblinking, unwavering gaze – installing her ‘software’…



Eventually – and like a flock of homing pigeons returning to their loft after a few turns around the sky – the items on my grocery list returned to my mind and, with a Herculean effort, I managed to regain sufficient control of my mind and body to achieve movement and, as I hastily continued with my shopping, I wondered if the Pixie Lady’s colleague had noticed my ‘interest’, and had told the Pixie Lady about my ‘Supermarket Check-out’.



Or – and, more to the point – whether the Pixie Lady needed telling… Somehow, I didn’t think so.



By the following Saturday, while doing my weekly shop at the Supermarket, and miserably pushing my shopping trolley full of groceries along, with the disconsolate demeanour of a forced-labourer pushing a wheelbarrow full of rubble at a concentration camp, I had almost forgotten (my terrible fright, all-but worn off), about last week’s strange incident involving the Pixie Lady; thinking it was surely to be a one-off, slightly disquieting, and decidedly disturbing – though a mysteriously enjoyable, and inexplicably exciting, experience.



But, as I was making my way to the check-out tills and, groaning inwardly, with dismay, when I saw the dispiriting length of the queues, I saw the unmistakable, charmingly diminutive figure of the pretty Pixie Lady, who had stationed herself in front of the check-out tills – so as to be able to assist with any problems that the check-out girls may encounter, I surmised.



Automatically, it seemed, and as if I had no will of my own, my eyes were drawn to the Pixie Lady’s feet, as though by the irresistible pulling power of 2 supremely powerful magnets. And, I found myself becoming overcome and overwhelmed – controlled – by the very same…compulsive…’commanding’ imperative, that had seemingly over-ridden my own will, last Saturday.



While I pretended to study the length of the queues to the check-out tills – ostensibly, to try and locate the shortest – from the corner of my eye, I surreptitiously spied on the Pixie Lady, as she heel popped, and teasingly dipped her dainty, black cotton stockinged feet in and out of her black ballet flats and, I watched, mesmerized, as she repeatedly shifted her weight from foot to foot and, as she flexed and scrunched her toes, in a way that drove me half insane with excitement to see.



As soon as the Pixie Lady made eye contact with me – after she had turned around suddenly, as if picking me up on her radar – I felt sure, that there was a look of ‘recognition’ in her eyes and, I immediately then joined the queue that I had so carefully and deliberately chosen: the longest queue! I was actually trying to linger, in the Supermarket!



Now, I had to be careful, as the Pixie Lady seemed to be looking in my direction more and more frequently and, I did not know (at that time), if it was just my jittery, irrational imaginings, or whether she was now actually ‘onto’ my surreptitious shenanegans: whether she suspected, or if she had sussed and was actually aware of my little spying game, and, that she was now actually trying to catch me, red-handed; in my own, personal version, of ‘Supermarket Check-out’.



Of course, it never occurred to me, at the time, to wonder if the Pixie Lady might actually be…instigating, and controlling the situation – controlling me!



After all, whoever heard of such a thing?



It seemed, though, that during the following week, that I did not – could not – forget, about the Pixie Lady.



I seemed to have become obsessed: my mind, seemed to have been taken over, by the Pixie Lady.



It seemed, as if I was in the power, of the seemingly…fey, Pixie Lady.



It seemed, that my every waking thought, and my every dream, was about the thrilling excitement – that still lingered, a whole week later – from my Supermarket Check-out.



And it seemed, as if the computer of my mind was running the same programme…over, and over… Seeing, the dainty, sexy, shoeplaying, black cotton stockinged feet, of the Pixie Lady… Wondering endlessly, just what it would be like, to actually smell them…to actually kiss them – and, longing, oh! LONGING!, to find out!



At night, sleep was impossible, until I had paid my ‘devotions’, to the Pixie Lady.



The following week, my much looked forward to and feverishly anticipated visit to the Supermarket, was not just about buying groceries – but had a sneaky, naughty, devious…ulterior, motive to it…



This week though, it had seemed – at first – that I was to be disappointed as, try as I might, I could not find the charmingly alluring and diminutive figure, of the black cotton stockinged, black ballet flats wearing, heel popping, foot dipping, toe scrunching Supermarket Supervisor, who I thought of (both awake, and asleep!), as the ‘Pixie Lady’.



I was a little shocked, at the acute level of disappointment I felt; at missing out, and of being deprived of what I was so looking forward to – and, of what I was hoping would become my weekly ‘treat’.



A naughty ‘treat’, yes: but, you have to indulge yourself, from time to time, I told myself, as though in self justification – besides, I no longer felt as though I had any choice, in the matter: just as I was ‘obliged’ to make my ‘devotions’ to the Pixie Lady every night, so I made my Saturday ‘pilgrimages’ to the place of her ‘Shrine’ – the Supermarket.



I tried to put my keenly-felt disappointment behind me – only to realise, that I was suffering from more than just mere disappointment. For, I was like a Diabetic, overdue for his insulin: I actually ‘needed’, I now realised, my Pixie Lady ‘fix’…



But, after I had finally completed my humdrum, mundane, tiresome and irksome shopping expedition, and arrived at the check-out tills… lo and behold! So, that was why I couldn’t find her! The Pixie Lady was serving at one of the check-out tills. The Pixie Lady had, I supposed, been covering for 1 of the check-out girls, all along.



Immediately upon seeing the Pixie Lady, my spirits lifted – soared!



Well, I knew what I must do! I queued at the check-out till, that was to the left of the one that the Pixie Lady was serving at. As I got nearer to my check-out till, I found that I was beginning to shake, uncontrollably. For, such was the measure of my almost all-consuming excitement and anticipation…



When I arrived at my check-out till, I looked to my right and, the Pixie Lady was right there – the closest I had ever been to her – and I thought I could actually feel her power; emanating from her, in all-but palpable waves.



The Pixie Lady was sitting on a stool at her check-out till, with her back to me. Oh, boy! Was I in luck! The Pixie Lady was resting both of her feet on a rung at the back of her stool and, as my eyes soaked up this marvellous, wonderful, glorious sight – a sight, that until recently, would not have caused me to so much as bat an eyelid – I felt a tingling, thrilling shock, of fearful excitement – as though I was doing something wrong!



The Pixie Lady was still wearing her black ballet flats – and yet, she wasn’t!



As I looked down, surreptitiously, I could see the whole of both of the soles of the Pixie Lady’s black cotton stockinged, exquisitely shapely, dainty little feet, as she – seemingly somewhat precariously, though more probably, expertly – balanced them on the back rung of her stool; as she actually rested them on top of her black ballet flats!



My eyes must have bugged out! To me, this was nothing short of a miracle of manipulation, by the amazing Pixie Lady: manipulation, of her supple, flexible, well-worn looking, black, ballet flats – and, her continuing manipulation, I felt sure, of me!



What a wonderful, thrilling, exhilarating sight this was – of what surely, must be Pixie Magic, I thought.



Oh,man! Oh,man!! I stared and stared. I watched, and ogled. So entranced was I, that I was only brought back to Earth when the girl at my check-out till touched my arm, in an apparent effort to capture my distracted attention to pay for my groceries, which I then did.



Then, just as I was about to leave the check-out till, having paid for my groceries, I thought that I would sneak a final, naughty peek, at the Pixie Lady’s shapely, dainty, sexy little treasures. But, when I turned back to her, I felt a jolting, jarring shock, that felt like a bolt of lightening passing right through me, to find that the Pixie Lady was staring right at me, unblinkingly, unwaveringly, through her seemingly all-seeing eyes… Full in the face!



It was as though…the Pixie Lady’s ‘antenna’ had twitched; as if she had somehow…sensed, my surrepitious, worshipful adorations (oh, ok then – my sneaky spying!).



And, this time, there was just no denying, and no pooh-poohing my unshakable, certain conviction, that the Pixie Lady not only ‘recognised’ me; but also, that she ‘knew’ me – for what I was…’knew’ me, I now believed, because she was responsible…because she had done this thing to me, through her…her Pixie power.



She held me, captive, in her Pixie stare – in her seemingly fey, clairvoyant, all-seeing eyes. And, she imprisoned me there, with her seemingly ‘file-downloading’ mind, helplessly unable, to break this seemingly unnatural eye contact… Until; after what seemed to me a very long time, and without a word, the Pixie Lady finally turned away from me, as she returned to serving the customer at her own check-out till.



Since then, whenever I visit the Supermarket, the Pixie Lady seems to ‘recognise’ me on sight – unless my imagination is playing tricks on me… But, I don’t think so.



Because of this, I have had to hone up on my spying skills: peeping around the corners of the aisles, hiding behind other customers, pretending to read food labels. Even accosting lady shoppers and asking for their advice – advice, that I neither want or need, on the best way to cook this piece of fish, or that joint of meat, etc, in order to feed my now, all-consuming addiction: to satisfy my obsession, to get my weekly, must-have ‘fixes’, of the Pixie Lady’s exciting, enthralling, and enchanting foot antics.



Ah!



‘Enchanting’!



Yes, that must be it. All is clear, now: just as I have now long suspected, I have been enchanted, by the fey, irresistible powers of the Pixie Lady.



It is a great wonder, that I have not acknowledged this obvious truth, a lot sooner – for, it is abundantly clear, what has befallen me…



The Pixie Lady, has these…these…powers, over me… I know, she does… I’ve known, if I am honest with myself, from the very moment she laid her eyes on me…it’s just taken me a little time, that’s all, to acknowledge the fact, and to reconsile myself, to the truth…



The inescapable truth, that the Pixie Lady has me in her power…the truth, that she has caused me to fall in love, with her black cotton stockinged, dainty, sexy, shoeplaying feet; the truth, that I must continue to make my ‘pilgrimages’ to her ‘Shrine’, every Saturday; and the truth, that, every night, the Pixie Lady will tease me, torment me, and deny me sleep, until I have adored her, worshipped her – and paid my ‘devotions’, to her…and, I wouldn’t have it any other way – not now; not now, that I know…the truth.

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