The Females of Wadi Ya Noh. Ch. 02

I was shocked, absolutely appalled. What? Go back working for Miss Susan Smith again, after all that she had put me through? After all that she had done to me? After she had ruined my life? Well, there was no way! Absolutely no way! She could forget it! And then there was the small matter of Miss Smith's so-called "proviso." Oh no. Oh, no! I knew, just exactly what Miss Susan Smith's so-called proviso was. I remembered her telling me about it, aboard our flight to Arabia. I remembered all too well! How could I forget? I could still remember my sense of shocked disbelief, my shudders of revulsion - my actual distress - just at the very idea of it ... Massaging Miss Susan Smith's dark panty-hosed, stinky feet, for her. Urgh! And massaging her office girls' feet, too! Yeeew! I couldn't believe it. She actually seemed ... preoccupied, fixated - obsessed - with the idea. It was as if Miss Smith was determined - hell-bent - on subjecting me to her damned so-called proviso ... Thinking back, in fact, I also recalled her telling me that, one day, she would have me on my knees, at her feet ... Well, it was quite unthinkable. I was simply, unequivocally, definitely not going to allow that to happen. Never in a million years!

"I'm very sorry, Claudia, but it's quite out of the question. There is no way, absolutely no way in this world, that I am ever going back to work for that woman. I'll find another job, Claudia ... It was her fault, that---"

"David. Do you want to return to Wadi Ya Noh ... to Humility Hole? To serve out your remaining---"

In a momentary flash of foolhardy and, potentially self-destructive, defiance, I rudely interrupted Claudia, blurting insolently: "Oh! That's your answer to everything, isn't it, Claudia? To threaten to have me sent back to Wadi Ya Noh. To put me back in Humility Hole."

"Yes, David, it is. And don't think I won't ... if you disobey me."

"So, I start my new job at Jordan's next Monday, then. Working for Miss Susan Smith, as her office boy," I said, in total capitulation ... as I knew that I must.

My God! But it was just one thing after another.

* * *

The following day, and following Claudia's explicit and detailed instructions, I set about the first of the tasks on Claudia's Things-to-do list: that, of part-exchanging my car - a 2-year-old Ford Focus - for a brand-new people-carrier. With Claudia's stipulations still ringing in my ears, about the vehicle - "A new one. A good one, too - not some cheap rubbish." - I went to the local Mercedes Dealership.

The car salesman 'saw me coming', as it were, as if I had 'SUCKER' emblazoned across my forehead. And he rolled me over good-style, greatly boosting his commissions for the month, and greatly depleting my bank balance, all in one slick move.

Still, having said all of that, I came away from the Mercedes Dealership with an absolute beaut of a vehicle. A brand-new, silver-coloured Mercedes people-carrier, that was capable of carrying up to 7 passengers (just as Claudia had stipulated).

The people-carrier was pretty much ready to go, too: It just needed plating up; a mechanic made a few last-minute checks and preparations; a couple of car valet's busied themselves fussing over it; and a junior salesman nipped out in an amazing-looking Merc to the Post Office for my new vehicle's tax disc. And, while all of this activity was going on, my new insurance details were sorted for me. And then I was ready to roll. "Any problems ... bring her right back," said Slick.

The Mercedes people-carrier had climate-control, black leather seats, tinted windows, DAB radio and CD player - the lot ... Only the best, for my dear 'wife'. The people-carrier went like a dream; it whispered along the road, and it was a real joy to drive. Hell, with its automatic transmission, The Merc damn near drove itself. And it was very pleasing to the eye, too, and I thought that even Claudia would be pleased with it, and coo her approval when she saw it.

All of this luxury-on-wheels, though, came at a price. Despite trading in my 2-year-old Ford Focus as a deposit, I was still going to be paying rather hefty monthly repayments on the new people-carrier, for the next 5 years.

That little job sorted, my next task on Claudia's Things-to-do list was to go to the travel agent's, in town. Of course, I went in 'The Merc' (as I was already thinking of it). I had some air tickets to buy - 5 of them.

I parked The Merc right outside Taylor's Travel - 'Taylored To Your Needs' - was their rather naff, play-on-words claim, on the sign above their shop.

I got out of the vehicle and shut the driver's door behind me. It didn't clang shut (like "some cheap rubbish"), but closed with a soft, satisfying click, that spoke of quality. Then, when I pointed the key/remote at it, and pressed the button, my chest puffed up with pride, as if 2 of The Merc's air-bags were inflating inside my lungs, at seeing the bright yellow flashing lights that signified the alarm being activated.

Fortunately, Taylor's Travel weren't very busy and, at seeing me enter the shop, one of the travel assistants behind the counter, whose name tag informed customers that she was Zoe, gestured for me to take the seat opposite her. "Good afternoon," she greeted me when I had sat down, and with what I could see was a genuine smile. "How can I help you?" she asked brightly.

I put my hand in my pocket, and I retrieved the piece of paper upon which Claudia had written out her air ticket requirements. I handed over Claudia's note to the attractive and rather pleasant-voiced (early 20's, I guessed) travel assistant. I said to her, "Well, Miss. Can you sort me out with five air tickets, please? Return tickets, from Wadi Ya Meen, in Arabia, and valid for one month? All the necessary details are written down there," I said to her, nodding at Claudia's note that I had just handed to her.

After just a brief scan of Claudia's note, Zoe tapped some keys on her keyboard, and the Arabian Airways website appeared on her computer screen. Zoe's warm and welcoming smile then turned into a quite concerned-looking frown. "These five air tickets, that you want ... they are dated for travel within a week - for this coming Sunday," she said.

"Yes, Miss, I know ... Is - is that a problem? Are there no tickets left available?" I asked worriedly, concerned about how Claudia would react to such news.

"It's not that. There is still plenty of availability on that flight - there usually is. It's just that ... Must these five women travel so soon? Could they not travel in a month or two, instead? Is it an emergency?" she asked, almost plaintively. "I mean, it's your money, but ..."

"Well, it's not an emergency - as such ... But, yes, they must be on this Sunday's flight," I replied, my own voice now touched with even more concern.

"Oh," Zoe said, almost forlornly. "Well, the thing is, you see, booking so - so last-minute, these air tickets are going to be terribly expensive. People usually book these sort of tickets well in advance - three, six, even twelve months ahead, if they possibly can. It's just like with the trains, you see ... the later you book your ticket, the more expensive it becomes," explained Zoe. "Now; if it was a last-minute charter flight standby ticket to some Spanish or Greek or Turkish holiday resort, that you were after, well, you would be laughing. But it's different, with these sort of scheduled flights, I'm afraid ..."

To illustrate her point, Zoe swivelled her computer screen so that I could see, for myself, just what price I was going to have to pay for those Arabian Airways tickets, at such short notice.

My God! It doesn't rain, but it pours. Talk about exorbitant! These last-minute Arabian Airways tickets were going to cost me an arm and a leg. And - my God! Claudia had told me that there were going to be "relays, as it were," of 5 females of Wadi Ya Noh coming to stay with us, arriving every month. Every month!

I felt like crying - bawling. I was in deep, deep despair. Buying all of these air tickets - not to mention, endlessly forking out for all of my other Claudia-related expenditures - was going to ruin me. Ruin me! It could only be a matter of time. It was, I knew, going to be a constant struggle to keep my head above water; to stay afloat. But, eventually ...

And I knew there was no point in pleading with Claudia. No point in trying to get through to her. No point in trying to talk some economic sense into her. No point in trying to convince her, that she was slowly strangling the goose that was laying all of her golden eggs.

And besides, I couldn't afford to risk getting on Claudia's nerves about it. She'd made her position quite clear to me, and I wasn't about to go putting her to the test - she'd have me transported back to Wadi Ya Noh, quicker than I could say 'Bankruptcy Court'. No. It was quite hopeless. I felt acutely dejected. The thought, of the sheer futility of it all. The thought, of all of my valiant efforts, ultimately counting for nought ...

"Are you all right?" asked Zoe, concernedly. "What's the matter? You look quite upset," she said kindly.

And it was Zoe's warmth, and friendly kindness, her genuine solicitude, that undid me. God knows, but I'd known precious little kindness, in the last 3 months. I couldn't help it, but I was so overcome that I just unravelled. My tears of self-pity started to flow. I was actually weeping, right in front of Zoe.

"I'd like to book those five air tickets, please, Miss," I blubbed.

"Oh," was all that Zoe could bring herself to say.

Sensing that there was something amiss, the senior travel assistant - whose name tag informed customers that her name was 'Sonia' - suddenly materialised beside Zoe. Alternating her concerned gaze between Zoe and me, she tentatively asked, "Is - is there ... a problem?"

Zoe said, "No, Sonia. Not - not exactly. It's just - it's just that ... the gentleman, he ..."

In terms of economic principles, I was the exact opposite of Claudia. Claudia would casually and carelessly pour money - my money! - down a bottomless pit. Whereas I practised thrift. I was a big believer in the wise old adage: 'Spend a pound to save a pound'. And it was this deft, pecuniary savvy economic stratagem that I was going to deploy now.

I found that I could barely speak, such was my distress. But I had to get the words out. "Miss ... in addition to those five air tickets, I'd like to book, in advance, another five similar air tickets, for each of the next six months. I'll - I'll bring all of the necessary details in for you, as soon as I have them." I treated Zoe to a wan smile. "That should at least save me a bob or two, in the long-run. Thank you, for your kind advice, Miss," I said to Zoe.

Ah! Bless Zoe. But she was actually wiping away a tear of her own, in sympathy ... it was surely a heartfelt thing, for she could have had little idea of what she was actually sympathising with.

Neither of the 2 travel assistants said anything, for some moments; they just stared at me, perplexed. The senior travel assistant - Sonia - roused herself first. "At Taylor's Travel, we pride ourselves upon always striving to procure the best possible deal for our clients, but ... May - may I ask ... why you want to book all of these air tickets?" she inquired of me, not unreasonably.

"It's a long story, Miss," I said. "Here's my Debit Card."

Shaking her head in obvious befuddlement, the senior travel assistant said, "Sort the gentleman out with his air ticket arrangements, please, Zoe."

Which Zoe did. "That's all sorted now, then," she told me a few minutes later. "Their air tickets will be ready and waiting for them at the Arabian Airways Check-In Desk, when they arrive at Wadi Ya Meen airport to fly out to Manchester," Zoe assured me with a kind, but sad-looking smile.

"Thank you, Miss," I said. "I will be bringing all of the necessary details in for you, as and when Clau - as and when they are given to me." And, with that, Zoe gave me a rather wan wave, as I walked out of the door of Taylor's Travel.

Outside, I looked up at the legend on the sign above their shop: 'Taylored To Your Needs' ... Well, they were certainly doing their level best: credit, where it was due - and Zoe was a real peach. But, I knew that there was no one who could tailor to my particular needs.

I still had one last task to do today, I glumly realised. But it was something that was not on Claudia's Things-to-do list: I needed to visit my bank - urgently.

I needed to top up my Debit account - seriously, drastically top it up. There was soon going to be a real run on it - a lot of rather sizable chunks of money were going to be withdrawn from it. And, not only that, but it was now abundantly clear to me, that I was actually going to have to re-mortgage my house, too, to bring the monthly repayments down a bit.

And, not only that, either - and worst of all, by far - despite my not being a believer in credit cards; despite just the very thought of them, being anathema to me, nevertheless, dire necessity now plainly dictated that I apply for some immediately ... And max them all out.

* * *

Well, at least I had been right about one thing: Claudia was absolutely over the moon, with our brand-new Mercedes people-carrier. Of course, I mostly intuited this, from reading her body language. By nature, Claudia was quite reserved, and she rarely broke out into a sweat of excitement about anything - except when she was threatening to send me back to Wadi Ya Noh, that is. Although all that Claudia had actually said, upon her first setting her dark, almond-shaped eyes upon our gleaming new vehicle, was: "I approve, David," I knew that, inside, she was thrilled to bursting, and I was sure that she wanted to jump up and down with unrestrained joy ... Claudia was coming up in the world.

Meena was positively awestruck, at the very sight of The Merc. As though she thought to herself: 'I, Meena, fallen female of Wadi Ya Noh, am to be chauffeured like a princess, in that gleaming wonder ... By my daughter's very own house slave and foot slave.'

Meena was almost as amazed, by The Merc (or, rather, by the wondrous idea of herself actually riding in it, princess-like), as she had been at first setting her eyes upon my 50-inch, high definition plasma flat-screen TV. Almost a week later, and Meena was still enthralled. She still couldn't get over the marvel; could hardly tear her eyes away from the big TV for a moment.

Of course, Claudia was a bit more worldly. She had worked part-time as an air hostess for Arabian Airways. She had routinely stayed overnight every Sunday at an airport hotel, and so she was quite used to seeing and using such wonders and gadgetry of the modern world. Meena, on the other hand (who had only ever lived in a remote and quite primitive - backward - part of the Arabian Interior), was another matter entirely. Although Claudia had told her of the existence of such things, Meena had no real grasp as to what Claudia described to her. Meena could not imagine; could not 'get her head around', the realities of such science-fiction like fantastical wizardry's - which is why they came as such a tremendous shock to her, when she actually saw them for herself.

* * *

I was dreading the arrival of Sunday ... Dreading the arrival, of another 5 females of Wadi Ya Noh.

The days leading up to Sunday were bad enough, even with just Claudia and Meena to ... serve. I was their slave, in my own house. I served them endless cups of their damned mint tea and, after doing so, they would then command me to return to my 'place'. To lie at their feet. To be used as their footrest, while they chit-chatted companionably and watched TV.

Claudia had told me the names of her 5 village sisters who would be arriving on Sunday, and coming to stay with us on their month-long visit. Kandi would be among them, as would Fatima.

I remembered them both. But I especially remembered Fatima. After all, I had good reason to ...

Back in Wadi Ya Noh, Fatima had straddled me after I had been stripped naked by the furious, vengeful females of Wadi Ya Noh, immediately upon Claudia informing them that I was an Englishman.

(It was absconding English oil workers, who were predominantly responsible for the females' hideous situation. By leaving them pregnant, and with no father for their child, the deserting Englishmen were, effectively, condemning their former concubines - many of whom, had been promised marriage, and a new life, living in England - to an ignominious and wretched exile, in some godforsaken desert village somewhere in the remoteness of the Arabian Interior. And Fatima was one such victim).

And, with Fatima's black burka clad bottom hovering right in front of my face, and the soles of her filthy dirty bare feet positioned either side of my head, she had firmly grabbed hold of my penis with her left hand, yanked it out of the way and, with her right hand she had raised one of her black, extremely well-worn mules above her head. And I had stared at Fatima's shoe, in abject terror, in my sensing - knowing - what was coming.

Fatima ululated with ominous, horrible portent, and then she viciously swung down her shoe. Wielding her shoe with controlled power and unerring accuracy, Fatima scored the most devastating direct hit with the chunky heel of her mule upon my so horribly exposed and vulnerable testicles - twice.

Oh! The pain! The agony! The anguish! I had never experienced anything even remotely like it. For long moments afterward, as I had moaned and groaned my terrible anguish, as I had squirmed and writhed in the throes of my frightful affliction, Fatima had continued to straddle me, keeping me helplessly pinned to the hard-baked ground. And Fatima had continued to hold onto my penis, keeping it tightly gripped in her left hand, while she ululated gleefully.

And now, Claudia had told me that Fatima was actually coming to stay in my own house - for a whole month! And I would be 'obliged' to extend every hospitality and service to her. Fatima had taken me straight to hell. And now I was actually going to be her slave - albeit, a shared slave, with the other visiting females of Wadi Ya Noh - in my own house. Making her bed every day. Vacuuming her bedroom every day. Changing her sheets every Sunday. Waiting on her, hand and foot ... Being her foot slave.

Every night, as Claudia had decreed, I slept in my own, double-sized bed, with Claudia and Meena. Lying naked across the foot of the bed, at their feet - in my "place." I didn't sleep at all well. For, if it wasn't enough, in itself, that such a sleeping arrangement was rather less than conducive to my getting any sort of restful sleep, Meena had the rather ... disconcerting habit, of warming her feet on my genitals.

And Claudia loved nothing more, than having me drive her around in The Merc. She was becoming quite the snob: "Bring the Mercedes, David," she was now in the habit of saying - and in an unnecessarily loud voice, so that as many people as possible might overhear her snooty command.

On Saturday, Claudia instructed me to drive herself and Meena to the Asian Market. And this would become a regular visit, every Saturday, buying in the greater bulk of her weekly shopping requirements. Whenever Claudia wanted something more during the week, she would send me off to the supermarket with a shopping list.

Our 5 visitors - the first, of many such "relays, as it were," - would be arriving next day (Sunday), and so there was an awful lot of grocery shopping to do. Claudia and Meena fully intended to look after their visiting village sisters very well. Very well indeed. In fact, Claudia and Meena meant to ensure that all of them wanted for nothing - absolutely nothing. They meant to ensure, that they would be completely pampered and utterly spoiled. That their month-long stay in my house, would be as splendidly enjoyable to them all as was possible to make it. And, that no expense was spared, in providing this luxurious level of hospitality ... After all - I was paying.