There’s not greater obsession in this world than the one you have with me and my spicy, black, faux-leather Naked Wolfe heeled boots. Like a moth to a flame, you can’t stop yourself from turning into the bottom feeding beta you are: stroking, worshipping, and paying my perfect boots. You would move heaven and hell to be in their presence, to have a taste. But for now, all you can do is move yourself. Move yourself into the dark corner of your room to goon and edge to my boots.