Diary of Chloe Amherst, Volume 7

August 12th, 1998

Dear Diary,

I was so pissed at him today. I could tell that my face was red and that I probably looked like an idiot, but I just couldn’t help it. Three years since he promised to stop being a freak -- and today I found him with our baby-sitter’s shoes! I felt like scratching his eyes out. f__king pervert!

I demanded that he give them to me, and to save his sorry ass he did. And I don’t know how he ended up with them, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. Cindy’s only 16, and if he had any physical contact with her I’m going to have him locked up in a penitentiary where I hope he ends up as Mike Tyson’s wife.

So after he handed her sandals over I started screaming at him again. It just seemed like an awful re-play of all our previous augments which I thought were over three years ago. He really didn’t put up much of a defense, he just sat there like he used to, with his eyes on the floor, not even coming back at me when I called him pervert. At least he used to get mad when I called him names, and now he won’t even to that! I’m at my wit’s end with him. If I didn’t love him (or at least if I wasn’t used to him), I would have walked out on him a long time ago. So what should I do now?

August 13th, 1998

Damn him! It’s like talking to a brick wall. He asked me for that weird thing that he used to ask for. I thought that we were past that, that he’d gotten better. Be here he is, only a day after I catch him with that girl’s shoes, and he askes -- no, he actually got down on his knees and begged -- for me to step on him. He says he wants to be my slave. It’s like he hadn’t lived at all during the last three years. Like he’s been asleep.

I told him no, of course, and then I thought I saw some emotion on his face. But only for a second. Then he went expressionless on me again. That’s when I lost it.

I’m really sorry for what I did to him, but I was out of my mind with rage. He was just kneeling there in front of me, like the pathetic pervert he used to be, just looking up at me, and I got so mad that I hauled off and smacked him with my closed fist. He actually crumpled to the floor, and then (I kid you not!) he actually looked up at me with a bit of a grin and this weird -- turned-on -- look on his face!

At first, when I saw his face, I was really afraid. I thought he was going to get up and slug me (I would have). But he didn’t! Oh, I’m so disgusted! He rolled over on his belly and crawled over to me, grabbed my left ankle and started to kiss the top of my shoe! I flew into another of my famous rages and then I did what I promised myself I would never do again -- I kicked him in the face! Well, that cured his little lust for my shoe, I’ll tell you. Both hands went right to his face and he started rolling on the floor, moaning in (what I hoped was) pain. I actually was surprised that I didn’t really feel sorry at that point. That’s when I guess I realized what had changed. I can’t honestly say that I don’t love him anymore, because I really think I do. But how can you have love without respect -- and I definitely cannot say that I respect him any more. How can I? The man crawls on the floor like a bug, and begs to be treated like dirt! If he doesn’t respect himself, who else should? And why? What’s there to respect? I guess what’s changed is that realization. Why should I try to resurrect a respect for him that he has thrown away himself? And I’m so tired of trying and failing. But still, what should I do now?

September 1, 1998

Things are a little clearer now. Brenda helped me work it out, and I guess that I’ve come to a point of peace with it, kind of. I can’t have my old sweet Billy back. He’s dead now, and I have to accept that. I actually, because Brenda suggested it, looked through all our old love letters from High School, and our old pictures, and all that suff that you build up and stack up through the course of a relationship. I guess I was mourning Billy’s death. Not his body, of course, but his soul. He’s gone, and I don’t’ think that he’ll ever come back, at least not the way he was.

Like I said before, Brenda helped me work it out. Actually, she was less surprised than I thought she would be. Which threw me for a loop because she’s lived such a normal life. But that has got to be the most nervous that I’ve ever been. When I actually first told her about Billy’s problem. I felt like I was the weirdo. Even talking about it made me feel nervous, even when I used to talk to Billy, and then talking to another person, a normal person, I thought Brenda was going to laugh in my face and look at me like I was some kind of sexual freak. So, like I said, I was REALLY surprised when she didn’t.

She just looked at me with her eyebrows raised and a little smile on her face. She didn’t even say anything at first, and never interrupted me. She’s such a good friend. I guess that I’m being a little mean when I say that I was really surprised. I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, even before me and Billy. We’ve shared a lot together ;) and she’s never betrayed me at all, ever. I really do love her.

And she really did give me some good advice. She told me to search my feelings about Billy, and decide whether I wanted to leave him. After thinking about it for a few days, I’ve decided that I don’t want to leave him, even though we can’t have a normal life together. And she also helped me look at it from another point of view. I’ll never accept his perversion as easily as Brenda seems to (he’s not her husband, after all), but I also can continue to have a life with and without him. I’m not going to cheat on him or anything (even though I think that the bastard has cheated on me by collecting all those women’s shoes -- more about that later), but I have to realize that this is a part of my life that’s over, and unless I want to dump him completely I’ll have to find my happiness where I can. I know it sounds terribly philosophical, but I have to learn to accept those things I cannot change (or those things I decide to live with). But one thing Brenda was not able to talk me out of was my complete contempt for Billy. I don’t really hate him, but I really do think that he deserves what he gets from me, and from the world in general.

I told Brenda how I felt about anybody who wants to be mistreated, and that was the first time in the whole conversation that she was critical of me! I had just got done telling her about my freaky husband who likes to crawl around on the floor, suck on my shoes (and those of the now-fired baby-sitter), and wants me to literally walk all over him, and this didn’t seem to phase her at all. But when I told her that I couldn’t have respect for a person who wanted to be stepped on (emotionally or physically) she actually got a little mad at me.

Her point, if I want to be honest about it, was basically that I shouldn’t look down my nose at what other people find exciting, or how they find happiness. I called bullshit on that, and I think I’m right. I mean, I’ve been through this all before, but if you want to spend your life on the floor, then don’t be surprised when people step on you, and don’t expect them to respect you while they’re doing it, especially if you ask for more. So, needless to say, she didn’t convince me, and I think that I actually scored a point on that one because she couldn’t come up with some kind of politically correct, love and tolerate your neighbor answer. We’ll have to talk about that one again. But she did help me in one major way (other than saying that I should mourn the death of Billy, and get used to the new billy).

Brenda reminded me of some aspects of my personality that I usually don’t like to think about. She called me... how did she put it? Something like: "You’ve always been a person with a strong sense of up and down. A little arrogant, holier than thou, you know?" Well, I knew. And I don’t really feel bad about it. The fact is that there are people who are better than other people in this world. We may all be born equal, but we sure as hell don’t stay that way. Everything we do changes how "good" we are, and I don’t mean good vs. bad. I mean high vs. low. I was born rich, a sad fact that I’ll have to deal with (ha ha ha). And from that "handicap" I’ve learned that some people act like animals no matter how much money they have, but I also learned that the lower down the social scale you go, the more people act like lowlifes. It just is. Nobody likes to hear it, or talk about it, but it’s true. CASE IN POINT: BILLY BUKOWSKI. Need I say more? And if I’m wrong? So what. Sue me.

So how is this accurate sense of worthiness of people supposed to help me with Billy? Well, Brenda seems to think that I would find some satisfaction from treating poor little billy like he wanted to be treated. I’ll have to admit that a small smile flashed across my face when she said this, but I quickly reverted to my poker face. I’ll admit that I’m somewhat self-centered, even a bitch at times, but, as I informed Brenda, I’m no perv. I wasn’t going to get all steamy from abusing my husband. But she pointed out that she had said "satisfaction." And that she didn’t necessarily mean sexual satisfaction. Okay. Maybe she has a point. Even now, whenever I think of him doing his weird stuff, I get blind with rage. I admit it, it felt good to kick his boot licking face that day. And now that I write this, I realize that I’ve never felt bad about it. He probably liked it.

September 6, 1998

Okay. So I did it. So what. And yes, if you really need to know. I liked it. Okay?

So Brenda came over today, and I think she planned it. She’s been claiming for a week now that I’ve wanted to do it anyway, that I just needed a push. She was dressed up more than normal today. She usually dresses well (yes, we never grew out of our high school fetish for dressing up, so?), but she’d just been to the mall and completely re-did herself from head to toe. A cute little blue summer dress and black platform sandals.

I didn’t feel out of place, either. Ever since billy boy went "down under" as I like to call it, I hired a maid, and even re-hired the baby-sitter. Billy’s little confidence problem with me using daddy’s money for our own household expenses is not a problem any longer. And I don’t do windows. So I’ve been able to toss out the old clothes I was forced to wear because of billy’s little salary, and have finally bought some clothes. Having little bill around the house has a few advantages over the late Mr. Bill. And since Mr. Bill is dead and gone, wasting time trying to raise him from the dead is pointless. I’m not exactly dancing on his grave, but a little stroll wouldn’t hurt, would it?

So, anyhow, I did it. What? Wouldn’t you like to know! Brenda came over, like I said before, and she was dressed to kill, which made two of us. Now Brenda, being somewhat taller than average really towered in her platforms, and when little billy walked into the front room he rudely couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. I couldn’t really blame him, she’s really quite fetching. But rude We cannot have.

I was starting to get pissed, of course, which I sometimes think is my only emotional gear. Brenda, though, didn’t get pissed. She just looked at him and said to me, "well, so here’s the little shoe sucker!"

My jaw dropped. I could feel all the blood in my body drop to my feet. I looked quickly over at billy, stunned beyond words. He was looking right at me, waiting to get yelled at I suppose. When my heart started beating again I started to feel the blood rush to my face. I felt so embarrassed! I hadn’t told him that I’d discussed his "problem" with anybody else in the world. And I’m sure that knowing me as he did he couldn’t conceive of my telling anybody, because he knew that I wouldn’t want anybody to know that my life wasn’t absolutely perfect.

Brenda, instantly knowing that she’d just let out a secret started laughing, the little bitch! "You mean" she said to me "that you didn’t tell little billy that you and I talked about him? Ha! Well, billy, now how do you feel? Has Chloe done any of those weird things that you want her to do to you yet? Has she stepped on you? I would if you belonged to me, you know. I can’t think of anything funnier than walking all over somebody who wants to be walked on. How ‘bout it, billy? Lie down and let me walk on you for a while." Or something very much like that. I can’t quote her exactly, I think that I was in the process of having a stroke. But billy went ashen. I glared at Brenda for a few seconds and then ordered billy out of the room. The dweeb practically ran out.

"What the hell are you doing?" I said through my painfully clenched teeth. She looked at me with that "who, me?" look on her face.

Finally, she said something like "I thought I’d just stir the pot a bit, you know, have some fun with him. This can’t be the first time he’s been talked to that way, right? Although he did seem completely surprised." Then she paused for a few seconds, as if she just realized something (and I started to feel a little guilty, for no good reason, I might add). "You mean you haven’t done anything with him yet?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about" I lied. She started slowly shaking her head, apparently in disbelief. Then she said that I should call billy back in here and "try him out a bit" as she put it. I might have entertained the idea of making little billy boy pay for his perverted little desires, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it in front of company. I considered it a very private matter, between husband and wife. I told Brenda this.

Then she hit me with a statement that I’ll never forget.

"You’re a widow. You don’t have a husband. You buried him, remember?"

I just stared at her for a few moments. "But that was just talk," I said, not really believing it. Brenda knew I didn’t believe that either. Well, actually, maybe in a way I did believe that. But really, the thing is, I didn’t want to believe it. What I wanted to believe was that I was finally free of Billy. "I am a widow," I said, barely loud enough to be heard at all.

"Call him back, Chloe. He owes you. He owes you a lot. He killed your husband. Make him pay for it." Brenda was then sitting on the edge of her seat, looking very seriously right at me. For a moment our eyes met and a felt an overwhelming tenderness toward my best friend, and gratitude. She had finally given me what I could not give myself.

Permission.

I can’t really explain what I was feeling then, other than that I felt a weight partly leave my shoulders. I can’t say that I was totally uninhibited or anything crazy like that, but that I could now, in a way, administer justice on billy, for what he’d done to me, and that it was okay to do this. That’s what I mean by permission. I don’t know why I couldn’t give it to myself, why I needed somebody else, unless that was the only way I could still feel normal about myself. If somebody from the outside world said that it was okay for me to take revenge on billy then it wasn’t just me. Kind of like how a compass would be worthless without the North Pole. Brenda became my guide at that point, and I’ll forever love her for that. My best friend was now something more, even more than my sister. In a way, she’s a part of me. I don’t know what I’d have done without her being there to help me. I can’t imagine life without her. She’s the only person in the whole wide world who’s always thought of me first.

And my friend, my guide, called billy back into the room. I was sitting in the recliner and Brenda was sitting on the couch. When billy came back into the room Brenda just looked at me. She’d taken me to the cliff, now it was my turn to step off.

I took a deep (and somewhat shaky) breath and looked at billy, who was standing in the doorway, looking very nervous. In a way, that helped. He was more rattled than I was. Which made sense, I realized, since I was the stronger person. And it was he that should be embarrassed, not me. He was the lowlife, we were just going to punish him for it.

"You pathetic worm" I said angrily to him, "get on your miserable belly." He just stared at me in disbelief. This really pissed me off, and I decided to let him have both barrels, to finally unload on him after all these years of suffering without telling him what I really thought. "Damn you, you filthy pig. Get you shoe licking face on the floor. I will not permit you to stand up around real people! Now down, or I swear to God that I will humiliate you in front of whatever few friends you have left. And that’s for starters, billy baby. You’ve made a serious mistake, putting me in this position over you. You don’t know it yet, dog, but you think hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? You can’t even begin to imagine the hell you’re going to experience from a woman in power over you. I’m not kidding, billy. I’m really not. You have no idea how volnerable you are. You may be physically stronger than I am, but you screw with me and you will learn what power a woman can use against a perverted little freak like you."

This shook him. I could tell. In fact, he cocked his head in that way he used to, as if he was about ready to fire back. But then his shoulders slumped a bit. I looked over at Brenda, who was looking at me wide-eyed and silent. When I looked back at billy I noticed that he was still working out things in his little bitty brain. Apparently he needed some more help. Well, that’s what I’m here for!

"Slow learner, billy? One call to the County Prosecutor’s office and you’re gone from the house. I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you holding a newspaper over your face as they drag you into the courthouse to arraign you on charges of berglary." That’s when I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before. I’ve known Billy for a very long time. And while I respected him, and even after, I had never seen fear in his eyes. Not until that moment. And it felt gooooooood! It filled my head with a tingling, and sent a few of those ol’ familiar lightning bolts through my body. I couldn’t help but smile, and I don’t know what the smile looked like to billy boy, but man did he react! Almost a dead fall, he dropped to his face, arms spread out in front of him. I looked over at Brenda, who had recovered from her shock, and I smiled, a very big, self-satisfied smile.

"Brenda, dear" I said cordially, "would you please help me? I need some help teaching billy here a few things about his place in the world."

She smiled at me, looked down her nose at billy (ha! I got her to look down her nose at somebody!) and got up. I stood up and walked over to stand next to little billy who was still cowering on the floor. When Brenda joined me over billy I turned to her and casually said "well Brenda, this is the pig that I told you about. You know, the one who likes to suck on shoes. He’s been pathetically begging me to treat him like dirt for years now, and I never did because I though that he was better than that."

I smiled at Brenda again, and we both broke up in laughter. She just shook her head and said, "So why didn’t you just give him what he wanted?"

"What I’m going to give him," I said, "is more than that. I’m going to give him what he deserves! Hey, slime boy, what do you want us to do to you?" I then waited for him to speak. Of course, he was too embarrassed to say anything. I began to realize that ol’ billy’s eyes were bigger than his balls. When he was actually confronted with being exposed as a freak, and being humiliated -- for real instead of just in play -- he didn’t have the guts to go through with it. Weak little man. Those feelings of contempt for him started to come back even stronger. I felt this rising tension in me, like the more I considered him, the more I though about how disgusted I was by him, the harder it was to keep from trampling all over him like he was a bug. Up to this point I thought that I would have to force myself to treat him badly, but at that moment I found it physically difficult to keep myself from hurting him under me. It wasn’t that smacking him around with my fists would have been boring, it certainly wouldn’t have been. But he was so low! Just laying there at my feet, and at the feet of my closest friend, it just seemed important, necessary to put him under those feet -- kind of like stepping on a spider in your house, where it clearly doesn’t belong.

"Quick, Brenda. Hold my hand, steady me. I don’t care what he wants us to do, this is what I want to do." I held Brenda’s hand, and I noticed at this point that she was trembling. Again I looked into her soft blue eyes. We smiled at each other, and our eyes remained locked as I set my left foot in the middle of billy’s back. The flared heel on my pump settled on him and I could feel his tight muscles underfoot. I pressed down on him and lifted myself up onto him. I brought my right foot next to my left and steadied myself with Brenda’s help. I let my heels sink into his hard flesh. I could feel him quivering from his exertions and somehow this felt wonderful. I took a few steps on him and sank my heels in with each step. I could feel the muscles in his back first support and then give under my feet, my heels slightly crunching his back beneath me. I could feel myself rise and fall as he labored to breath with this full-grown woman in high heels standing on his back. My mind filled with the realization that I was causing him anguish by just existing, that this simple act of walking on him wasn’t just physical. This act of mine, walking on another person meant that I was better than him. I stood, or walked as I chose -- casually or trying to hurt him under me. I decided that he would suffer. He had to support me, and suffer for me as I stood on him. It was just so damn meaningful.

And I couldn’t believe my reaction to it all. I stopped walking and stood on his back, closed my eyes and began to breath in the thoughts and feelings all through me. I felt waves of tingling pleasure rise from his trembling body through my feet, up the backs of my calves and thighs. Warmth after warmth passed up through my belly. I felt the hot, surging need pulsing between my legs as I stood on him. I felt my nipples harden and a shiver shot through me. I started to move my hips back and forth, rocking gently to the rhythm of sensual pleasure, and I knew that this was driving first one heel and then the other into poor billy boy’s back, and I didn’t’ care. More than that. I savored the feeling. My mind began to fill with thoughts that I hadn’t ever experienced before, or maybe I had those thoughts but would not allow them to develop in me. I began to fantasize about hurting billy. I mean really hurting him. It was all I could do to keep my feet from stamping on little billy’s back, from grinding my heels deeply into him.

Little billy began to moan in soft whispers of quiet suffering. His moans became new music to dance to, and my body moved with his song of bitter-sweet torment. The tingling raced up the back of my neck into my head and back down throughout by body. My knees began to weaken and I squeezed Brenda’s hand sharply, shuddering as pleasure and fire exploded deep in me. Through the exstacy overwhelming me I could feel my friend helping me off of billy’s back.

Brenda sat me down in the recliner, and as my head fell back against the chair she brought her face close to mine and whispered "that looked like fun, Chloe. Can I try?" And as she pulled her sweet smiling face back I could see her eyes searching rapidly over me, wondering at the obvious enjoyment I had just obviously experienced. All I could do was nod and lazily wave my hand in billy’s general direction and quietly say "He’s all yours. Do whatever you want with him."

And as I sat back, I watched Brenda walk over to billy and pace slowly around him, as if considering what to do first. "What should I do, billy?" she asked, not really expecting an answer, and she didn’t get one either. "Would you like to be stepped on, billy?" she taunted. He actually moaned to her, he wasn’t saying anything, but his meaning was obvious. "But why, billy? Why do you want to be stepped on?"

Then he spoke his first words in at least two days. "I’m nothing," was all he said, and we could barely hear even that simple statement.

"Oh, you’re so right, billy," Brenda said softly. "And you want to be under me, don’t you. You need to be under me, below me. I know you. I see you, billy. I see right into you, through you." I was fascinated. Billy started to moan again, obviously turned on, and he started to move on the floor a little bit, almost not noticeable at all. She was getting to him, actually into him. Inside him.

I don’t know how she knew what to say, but she knew. She hadn’t touched him at all, and yet she was walking all over him, crushing him with the weight of her words. It was a stunning sight. There was an invisible link between the two of them; she standing next to him, using her inner strength to grind him beneath her; he laying on the floor, completely overpowered and pressed down. I really believe that even if he had wanted to get up, she could have kept him on his face with the power of her thought..

And as I watched she kept up the preparation, the torment. Only she knew if she was going to physically act out on him, but what she was doing was almost physical enough. "Now, billy, I know what you want to feel, don’t I. You want to feel the sole of a shoe on your body. And then that pressure..." She paused and bend down to bring her mouth next to billy’s ear, "Mmmmm, that pressure that proves that there’s another person on the other side of that shoe, the better side, pressing down on you. That’s what you want, isn’t it, billy? You want me to push down on you. Yes you do. You’re thinking it right now. You want under my feet. I want to put you there, billy, but you know, you’ve not been very polite. You came into the room standing up. You were too too far above the floor for your station in life, billy boy." Then she sighed softly, and looked sadly down at him. "But now you must pay. You have to make up for that. You have to make yourself lower now, even lower than you are right now." She stood up to her full height, looked down at my billy boy, and said, finally, "we all know how pathetic you are, billy. Now beg me to step on you. Beg me to walk all over you. I will, you know. I really will. I even want to. But now you have to ask. You have to beg. You know billy, you know very well that it’s a privilege to have any contact at all with us, even feeling the soles of our shoes all over you body. So beg for the privilege... Now."

She stopped, and we watched. Both of us watched billy writhing on the floor. I can only imagine what bizarre little thoughts of weird desire and lust were chasing each other through his mind, but they obviously had a choke hold on him.

But he didn’t say anything immediately. For a moment I wondered whether this humiliation was too much even for him, having to beg to be trodden on by a woman, to openly admit to being so enslaved to his perverted little desires that he would like on the floor at our feet and beg to be walked on like a rug. But billy didn’t disappoint. No, no, no he didn’t. Little billy came through with flying colors.

At first it was barely audible, but then he made himself heard. "Please Brenda, please step on me. I need you to walk on me. Please." Brenda looked at me with a girlish grin of pure playfulness on her face. I smiled back at her, shaking my head at that creature’s willingness to destroy himself for us, or for himself, or for that monster inside of him.

She held a finger up to me, indicating that I should wait for more. Brenda simply asked billy, "Why should I?" and waited, still standing at his side, her arms folded and an skeptical expression on her face.

"Because, sweet Brenda, I really want to be shown my place in the world. Please walk on me, I need to feel you above me. I’m lonely without the human contact that I deserve. Please don’t leave me without the chance to be around, at least beneath you. I know that I’m not worthy of being next to you or Chloe, but at least let me be as close as I deserve, at lest let me touch the soles of your shoes, if nothing more. Surely I’m useful in some way. If only as your path from one place to another. Please don’t leave me lonely. Even if you don’t pay attention to me, I’ll still know that you’re there, above me, and that I have some usefulness to the normal world."

Again, I was speechless. I couldn’t believe my ears. In a way I sort of felt sorry for the poor bastard. But then I realized something else. He knows himself better than anybody else in the world, and although I can’t think of anything that he’s done or anything that he is that would justify his minuscule opinion of himself, I had do bow to his better knowledge of himself. The world’s greatest authority on the late Billy Bukowski, now billy, has spoken and pronounced judgment: billy is, for whatever reason, unworthy of the rest of me, Brenda, and who knows who else. If he’s going to be around us at all, then the best that he can hope for is the tiny and hurtful contact from being beneath our feet, and he should count himself lucky, even for that

Hmmm. I can live with that :-)

So could Brenda, from what I could see on her face. "Okay, billy. I get your point. But when I start, only I have the right to say when I stop." And with that Brenda looked over at me and stepped on billy’s back, and then stood up on him. I could see her rocking back on her heels and I could hear billy moan with embarrassing amounts of bliss. He was loving it, the little worm. "Oh billy, you like this, don’t you. You filthy little slave. I can actually see my footprints on you! How sweet! Look Chloe, he’s got my footprints on him, just like a patch of dirt. Except I don’t think even the dirt likes being walked on this much. Oh billy. I like walking on you." Brenda walked slowly around billy’s back as I sat and watched. I was thinking to myself, damn-I should have spent more time on him. Then I realized, Hey! He’s mine! I can spend all the time I want on him!

Brenda walked up and down his back, carefully placing her feet down on him, and grinding each foot in with each step, obviously enjoying it all. Every once in a while she would look up at me, grinning from ear to ear, her face glowing with some kind of excitement. Billy began to moan again beneath her and she started to walk faster over him. "Oh billy, I’m really liking this. Chloe, make him quit his job! He’s much better as a carpet than anything else he could possible do." Then she walked down to his butt and started to slowly march in place on him there. I could see his hips rocking back and forth as she stepped on him over and over again. She then walked back up to the top of his back and stood sideways on him, with one foot between his shoulder blades and then she set her other foot on the back of his neck. Billy grunted under her weight as she started to put more of her weight onto his neck. "You know, billy, you could get paralyzed by being walked on too much, or if somebody were to step on you in the wrong way. Then what would Chloe do with you?" I looked at her, but her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her face. But I could see billy’s. Man, his face was turned to me, and it was beet red. Through his hair I could see Brenda’s shoe on the back of his neck. I could see the muscles in Brenda’s leg and I could tell she was putting a good amount of her weight on the back of his neck. I wasn’t really worried, but I could tell that poor billy was starting to get really uncomfortable. Awww. Too bad for him! But I couldn’t wait any longer.

I stood up and walked over to him. I set the sole of my left shoe on his red face and stepped down fairly hard. And, although I wasn’t able to crawl into that cramped brain of his, I still knew what I wanted him to know, and what I wanted him to feel like. And since he is mine, his emotions are too. I own them just like I own everything else.

"billy," I said softly, "feel that? Yes?" He grunted, piggishly, of course. "That’s my shoe on your face. You know what billy? No? Well, I’ll tell you. I walked to work today. But I had my shoes on. These shoes, of course. And I wore them to keep the dirt and grime off of me. So all the dirt and stuff that I walked through is on the sole of that shoe that’s in your face right now. Nice, huh?" Then I started to grind my shoe into his face, and I could hear him having trouble breathing.

Ohhhh. I was having fun! It just felt so good to be so bad! The more I hurt him, the better I felt. The worse I made him feel , the better I felt. The more humiliated I made him feel, hell the more humiliated Brenda made him feel the better I felt. I was experiencing rush after rush each time I heaped more misery on his misshapen, twisted, pointless life. The thought crossed my mind that the chief difference between ol’ billy underfoot and a bug, was that billy was just a little harder to squash! And I could play with billy’s mind too -- good toy!

"Hey billy, you still down there? Of course you are! Can you smell that, billy? I walked through a greasy parking lot today, I know I stepped in grease from all those people’s cars. Now it’s on your face billy." Brenda ground her foot down into his neck again as she turned to me and started giggling. "Oh billy," I kept on harassing the quivering jellyfish, "I stepped on my cigarettes today, too. Can you smell the ashes? I know how much you hate my smoking, especially the smell. Can you smell all the cigarettes I smoked today?" I really ground my foot into his face then, God Damn I hated his bitching about my smoking. Idea idea idea!!!

"Hey, Brenda... smoke break!" She looked at me and grinned bigtime. She knew all to well about billy and smoking. He used to make us both smoke outside on the porch, no matter how cold, windy or whatever, little sonofabitch. So Brenda casually walked off billy, causing him to grunt and then breath in relief. We got our cigarettes and lights, and walked back over to the new designated smoking area ;-)

I decided that my best buddy and pal and I needed a change. So I whispered in her ear and we both stood next to billy, on his right side. Each of us stuck the toe of a shoe under him, lifted him up and rolled him over on to his back. I’ll have to admit that I was a little shocked at what I saw in his pants. And it was gross. Gawd it was gross. He must have "enjoyed" himself at least a few times. "That is truly disgusting, Brenda," I said, pointing at his pants. "I was actually married to that thing down there once. Jeeze."

"Billy boy," Brenda said, shaking her head in real distaste, "I knew you were a pervert, but literally getting off while we were walking all over you? Ewww. It makes me want to wipe my shoes of on a real doormat after stepping in you!" We both laughed at him. And as I stared into his sad little piggy eyes, I noticed something interesting. This was a new fun thing. He really looked beaten, really destroyed, crushed. I don’t mean his body, we hadn’t done anything to the front of him, although I could see smears of stuff from the sole of my shoe on one of his cheeks, but his eyes told me what I wanted to know. I can’t explain it yet, it will have to settle in, and I’ll write it later.

But anyhow, I told the designated smoking area to hold still, "we’re going to need to step all over you some more, I hope you don’t mind." Hey, at least I smiled down at him. I’m sure he felt privileged to be noticed by one of us "up" people. So Brenda and I stepped up onto him, I stood on his upper chest, looking down his body, and Brenda stood on his pelvis (keeping well clear of the "spill" on our new floor). We lit up and smoked, right there on him. It was fantastic. Like real rebellion, only better. Every few minutes I’d turn around on him and lean fairly far down and blow smoke into his face. And when I was done with my smoke I instinctively looked for an ash tray. Brenda, seeing what I was looking for simply shook her head, looked meaningfully down at billy under our feet, and dropped her still lit cigarette on his (quite new and fairly expensive) shirt. I blurted out laughter, and almost choked I was laughing so hard. Then Brenda held her foot over the cigarette resting on billy’s stomach and crushed it underfoot, slowly and with way more pressure than was needed to kill the butt. Billy spasmed under us for a quick second or too and we started laughing again. I almost peed my pants as I threw my butt down and smashed it into billy, causing him to wiggle in pain again. Since that was so much fun (not just the smoking and grinding them out on the rug, but having him wiggle under us too!) we just kept on chain-smoking until we’d had enough. When we were through with him there were about ten butts crushed out all over his nice new shirt. Oh well. At least we had fun. And during the whole time, neither one of us said a word to billy boy. We just talked to each other. And I won’t ever forget those minutes when my best friend and I shared my "husband" as our floor.

And so that’s what I did this evening. So, yes. I did it. And I really liked it. And I’ll do it again. But I’ve got more fish to fry. Billy’s got to quit his job. The only reason he’s kept it (from my point of view) was to give him the illusion that he was supporting the family. Well, he’ll be supporting me in other ways from now on. And we’ve got a maid, and a baby-sitter to work with. The maid needs to be instructed on how to care for the additional floor space and the baby-sitter needs to keep a closer eye on her shoes!

So, dear diary, until next time....

September 14, 1998