The table is awkwardly positioned beneath the heavy glass table top. Motionless and objectified, it is not even human. The honor of holding up My perfect legs and stilettos is the only value this table has. For hours, this table remains still and waiting ready to be used for it’s existence. Still, sometimes the table finches and squirms under My sharp metal heels. With more training I expect it to not even blink. I notice something between the table legs….maybe…