Immediately after the game ended, the phone rang. "Hey, boy, this is your new owner Deniece. Be ready to serve me right after work tomorrow. YOu will not be going home after work, you'll be coming home with me, just so you know. Man, am I going to have fun bossing around my boss!" Deniece put her things away, fixed herself a drink, and then in the living room sat down in a recliner, bringing her feet up. I was still on my knees. I’ll let you know if he’s worth sharing,” she replied. “I wanna make sure he’s a good slave before I let anyone else use him. I don’t know how good he’s gonna be yet.”

So I began to press my tongue against her arch. Against her heel. On her full sole. And then she woke up. Angry. Not too bad for a first try,” she mused. “I suppose it will do for now, but later I want to see some tears when you beg. All right, honky, get busy and kiss my shoes!” I leaned forward again and inhaled the musky aroma of shoes freshly liberated from leather pumps. Her skin was dark, and smooth, and demanding of homage. “Thank you,” I said quietly as I began kissing her bare feet.I kissed like a lover kisses the face of his beloved. I kissed reverently, lovingly, slavishly, but not slobberingly. I found myself saying, “Thank you,” more than once, breaking the not-spoken-to rule, but she didn’t mind. She shook her beautiful head and smiled. "No, i don't want your money. I want your freedom. If the Raiders win, I want you to be my total slave for the next month, outside of work." This is my boss, finding out who the real boss is! He bet me the Bears would beat the Raiders and he has to be my slave for the next month. Ain’t it grand seeing a honky kiss ass?”

Then she hung up. What had I gotten myself into? Deniece was nice, considerate, an excellent worker, with high standards, and as I said, was very attractive, single with no kids. The next day I went to work and tried to pretend nothing had happened. But she did nothing of the sort, and told some people about our bet and that I had lost! I thought that was in poor taste, but she won the bet and I couldn't really say anything. I am not a gambling man, but I was so sure of it. I was so sure that my Chicago Bears were going to beat the Raiders in that Super Bowl that I began to brag about it at work. She looked over at me and smiled and her teeth fairly gleamed at the prospect of humbling me in ways I could not imagine. So the Friday before the big game, I said something like, "I just know the Bears are going to cream those sorry Raiders, who have no running game." And Deniece looked at me from her desk, and said, 'Oh yes? Would you care to bet on that?"You will do as you're told, but you won't have to worry about that. If you do, my brother in law is a cop. And if the Bears win, then I'll be your slave for a month, too; same conditions."