Respecting Maryam Reaps the Rewards

At that offer I perked up. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. I usually felt regret after an expensive night of partying. At least in this way, I'd sort of earned it.

"Look, it's all here." Maryam slipped me a sheet of paper across the table and pointed at various parts. "There's your income. Here's an itemised record of all of

your expenses and this right here is your surplus, disposable income."

"Right." I looked it all over and it seemed to check out. Everything had been noted down.

"Of course, thanks to me, you haven't disposed of any of it, but rather saved it. Look, I know it's been tough at times and you've been frustrated. But look what you've achieved. It was all worth it in the end, wasn't it?"

"I suppose so," I said.

"Are you ready to admit I was right about this then?"

"Yes. You were right about this, Maryam."

"Ma'am," she corrected. She had a knowing smile on her face and I knew she was teasing me.

I looked at the floor and went with it. "Yes, ma'am. You were right."

"Good, but I want you to say it while you kiss my feet," she said. There was a playful smile on her face, but she wasn't making any moves to suggest her demand wasn't serious. "Like you've been doing to show me respect. But this time I want you to thank me for helping you while you do it. Since I'm not charging you for my professional services; I think it's only fair."

I knew she enjoyed it when I kissed her feet, that much was now clearly evident. I did as she wished and kissed her pretty feet profusely. "You were right, ma'am, and thank you for helping me."

"I'm really enjoying you showing me respect like this." She wiggled her toes beneath my lips. "I think this'll be a little ritual at the end of every month. You can thank me for all I've done for you, then present the next month's pay check to me. I deserve your gratitude for what I've done for you after all."

"If that's what you want," I said between kisses.

"So, are we agreed that this arrangement is going to continue from now on? You're happy for me to manage your finances?"

"Yes, for the time being."

"Good, but there's one more thing," Maryam said. She held up a small key between her manicured fingers. "This is the key to the safe upstairs. I'm going to hold on to it. In fact, I'm going to wear it on my anklet so you can see it all the time and be reminded of who is in charge of your finances from now on."

I stopped my grovelling and sat up. "Is there really any need for that?" I moaned.

For once, Maryam let her laughter get the better of her. It wasn't often that her cool, professional exterior gave way. "Probably not, but it just felt fitting and the idea amused me."

I was feeling quite defensive at her taunting. "You don't have to laud it over me, you know? I appreciate you helping me and all. I'm even willing to let you boss me around if it's for my own good, but you don't have to tease and humiliate me in the process."

Maryam bit her lip and her eyes narrowed. She cocked her head slightly and looked me over through her analytical eyes. "No, look at you now; placid and reasonable. Humbling you is an effective way of keeping you in line. It's for your own good. I'll be wearing your key on my anklet, that's for sure."

And she did. The key jingled around on Maryam's anklet every time she walked around the house. She even wore it to work so that I couldn't sneakily access the safe while she was gone. It tormented me, but she was right, that key constantly reminded me that Maryam was the boss and in control.

"There's something I wanted to ask you, ma'am." I said to Maryam one weekend. She was busy working on her laptop computer and usually didn't like to be disturbed.

"What is it?" She said, while never wavering her attention from the screen.

"I need a little money for Mother's Day. I want to get my mother something nice." With my head a lot clearer since I'd ditched the booze, I'd been thinking a lot about my parents and mending our relationship.

"You know how to ask respectfully," Maryam said nonchalantly. She continued to tap away on her laptop without looking up.

By this point I was well trained and knew exactly how to ask Maryam for something. Seconds later my lips were on her feet. While I kissed her toes, the key on her anklet dangled right before my eyes. I could rip it straight off, push her aside and take everything in the safe. Maryam wouldn't be able to stop me physically, I was much larger and stronger. But something else stopped me. I knew deep inside somewhere that I needed Maryam's control. I just couldn't be trusted with my own money. Without Maryam's watchful eye, I'd have already spent the money on alcohol and drugs. This way, it was guaranteed it would be going on my mother's present.

I gave her foot one final lingering kiss. "Please may I have some money for my mother's present, ma'am?"

"Of course," Maryam said while leaning down to clip the key from her anklet. "But I'll need to see receipts, okay?"

"That won't be a problem." Something crossed my mind as my eyes lingered on her toes. "How come you never paint your nails? Your toes would look so pretty with some polish."

"I did used to, but it's too much of a hassle. I have to remove it every time I pray and reapplying it all the time just becomes too much of a bother."

"I could do it for you," I offered. I didn't really consider what I was offering. I meant it more as a one-off treat, but Maryam misinterpreted my intention.

"I pray 5 times a day, silly," she said with a chuckle. "You'd be committing yourself to an awful lot of work. Maybe I'll just let you paint them before our monthly ritual."

"Sorry, I was just thinking aloud." I looked up at her from my kneeling position and smiled.

Maryam pat my head affectionately. "It's okay, dear, it was a cute idea, but it wouldn't work. You could help me wash my feet before my prayers though? Now, that I would find useful. What better way is there to show you respect me as a Muslim woman than to help me prepare for prayer?"

"Umm, well, I guess I could." I was a little perplexed by the escalation.

"I'll be praying soon actually. Why don't you fill up a bowl with some warm water and wait for me in the living room? I'll get your money for your mother's present and then we'll get started. I think £30 is enough for something nice and a card?"

"Perfect, ma'am," I said. Maryam closed her laptop and scampered off upstairs, almost excitedly.

I made my way to the kitchen and filled a bowl with some soapy water at a warm temperature; hot enough to soothe but not singe. I took it to the living room and placed it at the foot of her armchair. I heard Maryam fidgeting around upstairs, and waited patiently on my knees.

When Maryam returned, she took her seat and I helped her feet into the bowl. I spent a few minutes massaging her soles and toes beneath the water, and soothing her skin with soft, watery caresses. She looked on with approval, but let me do all of the work. I even had to lift her feet from the bowl and dry them with a towel. She intended for the whole ceremony to be my lone responsibility.

Once her feet were dry, I left Maryam alone to pray. It felt intrusive to linger while she was at prayer. I knew how important her religion was, and having rudely interrupted her prayer in the past, I didn't wish to repeat the insult.

Maryam must have enjoyed my foot-washing service and found it a convenience, as it became a regular expected responsibility of mine from that point forward. She didn't expect me to share her beliefs or attempt to force them on me, but in this way, I was able to show I respected them.

As promised, at the close of the month, Maryam let me paint her toenails ready for the presenting of my pay check ritual. By this point, I had no qualms handing it over. It wasn't as if I was giving it away; it was all still my money. Maryam just controlled my access to it.

I knelt and applied the polish with precision, while Maryam sat above me in the armchair and watched one of her Iranian TV serials. I couldn't understand a word that was being said onscreen, so I wasn't at all distracted from my task. Her feet rested regally on an antique Persian footstool while I diligently painted one toe after another. Maryam would routinely check on my progress and insist I repaint a nail if it wasn't to her standard. As with everything, Maryam's standards were high and she expected her wishes to be respected.

When I was finished, Maryam paused the TV and surveyed my work with a pleased grin, showing off the perfect whiteness of her teeth. Teeth that contrasted smoothly with her light, chocolatey skin. She opened a file that she'd had ready on the armrest. "You'll be happy to know that once again I'm pleased with you this month." She narrowed her eyes and looked more intently at the file, flicking back through a few of the pages "Actually, I think you've done even better than last month now I look at it. £550 you have left over. That's nigh on 50% of your take home salary. When you subtract your rent, you've spent hardly anything this month. But also, you've hardly hassled me for extras too. I think you've turned a corner. You should be proud of yourself, Katie."

I felt my face reddening. I actually was proud. Never in my life had I been left with that amount of money at the end of the month. At this rate, I'd be on the verge of paying my parents back the deposit I'd lost them within two years, something I'd thought was impossible.

"This is just the start too," Maryam said while offering me a huge smile. "Your investment is already performing well and seeing a return. I'll add this to your portfolio."

I was lost for a moment as I imagined how proud my parents would be.

Maryam brought my daydream to an end. "Well? Do you have something you'd like to say?"

"Thank you, Maryam. Truly. I'm really grateful. You're actually turning my life around for the better."

"I'm glad you're finally seeing that. Now, show me how much respect you have for me." By this stage, Maryam didn't hide how much she loved seeing me show her the respect she deserved. She never seemed to tire of my English lips on her Iranian feet. Perhaps it was a status thing for her.

I kissed all over her dainty, pretty feet, just as she wanted. The red toenail polish only made me kiss all the more devotedly.

Maryam sighed in satisfaction. She must have felt complete; worshipped, adored and most of all respected. She lifted her toes up until only her heels rested on the footstool. "Do you have your pay check?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, while leaning over to my purse on the table.

"Place it beneath my feet," she ordered, and once I did, she lowered her toes.

There was something about seeing the pile of notes of my pay check beneath Maryam's pedicured toes. It illustrated the dominance she now seemed to have over me. I leant forward and kissed the tops of her toes again, breathing in the papery scent of the cash, a mere inch below.

I peeked up from my bowing position and caught Maryam's brown eyes intently watching, sandwiched between the folds of her headscarf. I felt overwhelmed by the whole situation. Freely handing my cash over to this Muslim immigrant while kissing her feet and thanking her made me tingle all over. She'd been strategically training my mind for months to accept her authority and superior financial intellect, and finally, all resistance had evaporated.

I was overcome by Maryam's control over me and felt compelled to show her I accepted it. I slipped her big toe into my mouth and sucked adoringly.

Maryam immediately retracted her foot and sat upright. "What are you doing?"

I suddenly felt quite exposed and embarrassed. I'd acted in the moment without really considering what I was doing. This was beyond showing her respect, it was almost a lesbian come on. I immediately felt embarrassed and blushed. "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know what came over me."

"Well it felt nice," she said. "But I think it's a bit inappropriate."

"I just thought it was another way to show you the respect you deserve."

She stroked my cheek with the sole of her foot and tickled my ear with her toe. "I'm pleased you're thinking of new ways to show me respect, but I think in this case it goes beyond that. It's more sexual than showing me my worth. You know what I think about sexual promiscuity outside marriage, don't you? I don't want you falling back into your bad habits."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cross that line."

"It's okay, dear. I think I know why you thought it was a good idea. We have grown really close this year, and the trust has built between us. If you're wanting to be more intimate with me to show your respect, I have an idea."

At that, Maryam reached up and removed the pins from her headscarf. She unravelled the fabric and let her hair fall freely around her shoulders. As I'd envisioned many a time, the strands were as dark as her eyebrows and much longer than I'd expected, reaching down past her breasts. I was surprised by just how much hair she could conceal beneath her headscarf. The way the black locks framed her face seemed to bring out the delicate softness of her brown skin even further. Her beauty took on a whole new level.

I was mesmerised by this Iranian goddess. Seeing her in her full womanly form caught me off guard. It had been months, and this was the very first time she had allowed me the privilege of seeing her without her headscarf.

She noted my shock and softly giggled. "Go fetch my hairbrush," she said. She ran her fingers through a few strands of hair and twisted the ends between the tips. "You can brush my hair while I finish watching my show."

One weekend, I joined Maryam at the grocery store to do the shopping. She was a skilled cook and preferred to buy everything fresh. She usually went alone but, on this occasion, I'd decided to follow along since Maryam had promised that she'd teach me a bit about cooking. I'd survived on tinned spaghetti and ready meals when living alone, but in Maryam's home I'd never eaten better. She liked to cook for us both and show off her culinary skills. In return I'd always do the washing up.

We went from aisle to aisle, filling the trolley with various items while Maryam sounded off meals they would suit. She led the way, a few steps in front, plucking items from the shelves while I followed close behind with the trolley. We'd just entered the condiment aisle when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Where have you been lately?" The voice said.

I immediately recognised who it was; Jessica, an old drinking buddy of mine. With Maryam's nurturing I'd gradually curbed my drinking to the point I barely saw some of my old friends. Friends I now knew were leading me astray. Jessica had been at the top of that list. She'd never been the same with me since I'd blown off the trip to Blackpool. If she'd known it was at Maryam's insistence, it could have led to trouble. If she'd known I'd blown her off countless times since: to massage Maryam's feet, brush Maryam's hair and place my pay check at Maryam's feet, I'd never hear the end of it. I'd be readily mocked by the devotion I seemingly had for my Muslim landlady.

Friendliness seemed the best option. "Hey Jess. Sorry, I've just been so busy lately. I haven't had time to get with you guys. How's the others doing?" I tried to be civil, but I could tell Jessica wasn't listening.

Jessica was a heavy smoker and drinker. Tattoos lined the length of her arms and her hair was slicked back and braided into a ponytail. Her personality was forceful and upfront, and I feared she'd say something offensive. It didn't take long for that to happen. She seemed to pay my explanation no mind, and instead directed her attention to Maryam. "Why are you hanging around with that Muslim cow?" Jessica asked, before I could steer the conversation elsewhere.

I cringed at her words, especially as I feared Maryam was within earshot. Even phrased as a question it was obviously an insult. I saw Maryam pause as she took a jar of honey from the shelf, and turn her head slightly as if to listen for my reaction. Of course, her face was obscured behind her headscarf so there was no inkling of her expression. Regardless, I feared the worst.

I had an opportunity to stand up for both myself and Maryam. All I had to do was tell Jessica she was being rude and demand she apologise. I could prove to Maryam once and for all that she had my respect and I was a changed person. I failed miserably. Instead of putting Jessica right, I merely shrugged my shoulders.

Jessica shook her head in disgust and trotted off towards the booze aisle.

Maryam didn't say a word for the rest of the shopping trip, or while she drove us home. When we arrived, we both carted the shopping bags inside in silence, then Maryam put everything away while I hid in my room. I felt awful for what Jessica had said, but worse for saying nothing in return. Maryam hadn't said anything, but if she'd heard as I feared; there would be repercussions.

After a few hours, she called out my name and summoned me to the living room. She was sat with her bare feet propped up and I assumed she wanted them massaged. I was somewhat relieved she wasn't going to grill me over the grocery store incident. I was wrong.

"Lick the bottoms of my feet," Maryam said. She folded her arms across her breasts and looked at me sternly.

"Lick them?" I shuddered at the thought. Kissing them was one thing, but licking was totally demeaning. Also, how was sucking her toes wrong, but licking her feet okay?

"Yes," she said. Her face looked more determined than ever. "Lick my sweaty feet and show me some respect."

I was lost for words and unsure how to react. Maryam's stare was intense, and I felt compelled to obey her. I dropped to my knees and tentatively reached out my tongue until it made contact with the ball of her foot. Then closing my eyes, I winced and dragged the tip along the length of her sole.

"Why didn't you correct that vulgar woman at the grocery store today? You think it's okay for your friends to talk about me like that?"

I looked up into Maryam's eyes as my tongue ran along the length of her sole once again. From the intensity of her stare it was clear that she was annoyed. Even with her eyebrows screwed up in anger she looked lovely. I wish I was looking at her pretty face surrounded by her hair, as opposed to the headscarf.

"What is it with the women in this country?" Maryam said. She pushed her foot against my mouth and I licked further intently. "You walk around wearing next to nothing. You inebriate yourselves to the point of unconsciousness. Where is your class? I work hard, follow your laws, and treat people with dignity, yet I get nothing but disrespect in return. You think it's acceptable to mock my accent and insult my culture?"

Maryam seemed to be vexing. Just talking aloud and venting her frustrations. I appeased her anger by licking her soles and toes in silence. It didn't seem like my place to speak up and interrupt. Licking her feet was demeaning, but I felt bad for what had happened at the grocery store. Despite my reservations, I felt somewhat obligated to do as she said.

I alternated between short delicate licks of her toes and long laps of her soles. I even slipped my tongue between her toes and dug into the crevices. Her feet gave off a light taste of salty sweat which I readily ate up. She seemed to have no problem with my tongue licking all over her toes, strange considering her opposition to my sucking of them. Perhaps she was too distracted by the insult she'd suffered to realise or to notice her hypocrisy; professing to treat people with dignity while making me lick her feet.

"Well, next time you see your friend you can tell her that not only do you hang around with a Muslim cow, but you lick her feet too." Maryam sneered down at me as I tongued her soles. Usually I'd see disappointment in her eyes when I'd done something she didn't like, but this was pure anger. It seemed Jessica had really riled her and she was taking it out on me. It was a side to Maryam I didn't like; a step too far.