” He hesitated. “I mean, your feet would make a really nice picture.” He really started to turn red and I gazed my own feet. I noticed the ankle bracelets and green polish and put them together and pointed them outward toward him. “Sure, go ahead,” I said with a slight chuckle and returned to reading my book. I glanced up several minutes later and saw him clicking away, sometimes close up, sometimes far away with the camera tilted. I was kind of enjoying the attention my feet were getting. He stopped after several close up pictures and held him camera to the sky. I gathered he was looking at the pictures that he had just taken. “Oh yes!” He said. “Thank you so much. Thank you, these are great!” He looked at me and smiled. “Wow. Your feet are really photogenic. My, God.” He tilted his camera to the sky again and his enthusiasm was getting almost creepy but it was quite cute, too. I sat up slightly and noticed a significant bulge in his pants just outside my window and began to wonder. I was disconnected from my emotions. I was just there. Time did not exist. I could have been there minutes, an hour or longer, I do not know. I was not aware of the passing of time.During that timeless interval, a dozen or so men approached me-one at a time-and looked me over. At the time, I knew I was being appraised for something. But what for? Again, I didn't know. I didn't care. Of the twelve or so, three of these men stood out from the rest.The first, I call the accountant. He was tall and thin. He looked me over for what seemed like minutes; seemly, inspecting every feature, looking for imperfections and comparing me to the other women. He reminded me of a bookkeeper from a Charles Dickens novel, sitting at his tall desk and scrutinizing the figures, except in this case the figure was mine.As he looked me over, I sensed admiration mixed with apprehension, a fear of missing something better. I found myself ambivalent as to whether I wanted him to choose me or not. I sensed he.
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