The Super

"Miss Ashley, are you okay?"

She blearily looked up. "Lock on my door's broken. Can't get my key in. Gotta call the super to fix it" she stammered.

He quickly understood the situation.

"I'll take care of it, Miss Ashley. Let me have the key", which he had spied gripped in her hand. She lifted it up to him and he rapidly opened the door. He then helped to lift her up and half carried her in. Once inside she pushed herself away from him.

"I can walk by myself" she insisted groggily. "I'm fine." She then stumbled against a side table knocking over a vase that was on it, which fell to the floor and boke into several pieces. She looked down at it in horror.

"My grandma's handmade vase" she cried. "Iz the only thing I've left of her."

"I'll take care of that too, Miss Ashley" Zeke responded. "We've got to get you out of those wet clothes and into bed before you catch your death."

"Yez, bed" she replied. "I gotta get to bed."

Somewhat more gingerly this time he helped her navigate down the hallway and into her bedroom where she promptly sprawled out on her back on the bed and closed her eyes. Zeke saw that he had a significant problem.

Tackling the easiest task first he bent down to unzip and then removed her boots, taking an extra second or two at most to gaze at her bare legs and feet. He looked around and eventually saw a silk robe hanging from the back of her bedroom door which he immediately brought over to the bed. Encouraging her to lift up he eased her saturated skirt down and off, and then with his eyes shut her wet panties as well. With much more difficulty he had her sit up and helped her shed her jacket and the soggy blouse underneath. With his heart in his throat he unclipped and removed her also damp bra. Averting his eyes as much as possible he still couldn't help but note that even in this very disheveled state how beautiful she was. Never for someone like him he knew as he stole one more very brief, wistful and guilty glance down at her.

Now he approached the most delicate and, for him, nerve wracking part of the process, how to maneuver this barely conscious, naked and utterly defenseless young woman into her robe and then under her bed covers. He prayed that she would have little or no memory of this night, so that any thoughts she might have had of him, to this point likely that he barely existed at all, wouldn't sink even lower for her to see him as truly repugnant and reprehensible. With great effort and resolve he managed her almost dead weight into the robe, which he then tied at the waist, and then rolled her over and then under her sheets and covers so that she was at last snug and safe.

"A knight in shining armor" she murmured in her sleep.

Hardly that, he muttered to himself, and then thought it more likely that she was dreaming of someone who would chase the ogre from her room. It was time to take his leave. He still had much work to do this night.

*****************

The next day Ashley woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like the Sahara desert. She groaned as she saw on her clock radio that it was well past two in the afternoon. At least she had four days off until her next scheduled work slot. Coffee, she needed coffee and lots of it, and a long shower to help her wake up, although the thought of cascading water dredged up unpleasant memories of the previous night. She cringed. How could she have let herself lose control like that. She seldom drank, and when she did it was usually a glass or two of wine at most. Shots and beers, where had that come from, and why. Maybe it had been to unconsciously ease some of the pressure of the growing ache that had been building like a canker inside of her for some time, that she had been able to wall off successfully thus far.

Well, it had turned out to be a disastrous way to do it of course. In the end she hadn't even been able to get into her own apartment. She winced again. The super. She couldn't remember all of the details but still had a general memory of what had transpired. What he had had to do, what all he had been forced to do. She tried to rationalize that anyone would have done the same, but concluded that was probably not true. Most would have called the police, or an ambulance, or just as likely, called the super, which then would have all worked out the same. How could she ever face him again after this, she thought. And was just as surprised that she even cared. Well, she had to thank him in some way, maybe even apologize. No, never that. She would never apologize to anyone for anything. Still, she would have to thank him and she knew it had to be in person and not over the phone. First though she needed coffee, and right away.

On her way to the kitchen she discovered that her clothes from the last night were all washed and neatly folded and placed on the side table where her grandma's vase had been. Who? She knew who, but just didn't understand why. She also noticed that he had cleaned up and taken away the broken vase. That still hurt very much. It really was the last thing she had of her Gram, who had made it especially for her. Just another thing she had lost and had to bury inside.

After four cups of coffee, several slices of buttered toast to settle her stomach, a couple of Tylenol, and finally a long, leisurely shower, she finally began to feel somewhat more human again. It was time to face the music and get the required thank you over with. She put on a nice sweater, and casual slacks and flats. She seldom wore much makeup, except for some of her heavier sessions, and now she wore none. She tied her longish dark chestnut brown hair into a pony tail, and was as ready as she ever would be to go.

She took the elevator down to the basement level where she had been told that he had an apartment. The elevator door opened up to a dimly lit and dingy corridor. There was a large boiler room to the left and she passed several storage rooms and one marked 'Electrical' on her way down to the right, until she came to the end and a door with 'Super' on the name plate. She took a fortifying breath and rang the bell. After several moments it opened.

"Miss Ashley" he exclaimed as his mouth gaped open as if in awe, and maybe even with a touch of fear.

"May I come in?" she asked, breaking the ensuing awkward silence.

"Yes, yes, of course, please do" and he stepped aside to allow her to pass by. She was immediately struck by how warm and even cozy his apartment was in comparison to the dank hallway. There was a large living area with several nice paintings adorning the wall. At the far end was an archway into a kitchenette with a small dining area, and a hallway to the left that probably led to his bedroom and bath. What caught he attention most though was a long side wall opposite that was completely covered by a fully filled bookcase.

"This in an unexpected ... surprise" he offered with a hint of trepidation.

She turned back to him. "Hopefully a better one than the sodden heap you found outside my door last night, drunk as a skunk."

He now chanced a cautious smile. "You did seem a bit under the weather" he replied as he walked further back into the room and she followed.

"In more ways than one" she added with a smile of her own. "Fortunately, someone was able to help me get inside, out of my soggy clothes, and safe and secure in my bed. And didn't even take advantage of me." She looked at him sharply. "You didn't have your way with me, did you Zeke?"

His face turned beet red. "No, I would never" he sputtered. "Please believe me"

She found that she rather liked getting him hot and bothered, much more so than she ever did in the studio. But this was unfair, and uncalled for after all that he had done.

"No Zeke. I wasn't so far gone that I don't remember most of what happened. And you were a gallant gentleman throughout." She paused. "A knight in shining armor I believe I said."

He turned an even deeper shade of red. She thought it very interesting that he seemed more affected and embarrassed by her praise than he had been by her tease.

"I try to help whenever I can. It's what I do" he responded quietly.

"Oh, I think this was way beyond your job description, and I really can't thank you enough for that."

He looked down toward the floor. "I like to do things for nice people" he continued softly.

"I'm not a nice person, Zeke."

His head snapped up. "Why do you say that?"

She had been as startled as he by her blurted statement, no matter the truth of it. It had just burst out of her as if something had to pop. And she didn't know if she should say more, to answer his question. But maybe here, hidden in this basement, before this unassuming, little regarded, almost anonymous man, she could let a little more of the poison escape.

"Not being nice IS part of my job description" she began.

"What do you mean?"

She took several moments to prepare herself to prove her point and state her case as simply and quickly as possible.

"I'm a Pro-Domme, Zeke. A dominatrix. Men pay me money to humiliate them, to hurt them, to treat them like garbage. And I do. Over and over and over again"

He was quiet for a very long time. Then ...

"Do they want you to do that to them?"

"They pay me, don't they" she practically snarled.

"Then I would say that you're being nice to them, giving them what they need."

She blinked her eyes and couldn't help a small smile. She had never thought of it quite that way.

"But Miss Ashley ..."

Here it comes then, the disdainful approbation, the moral lecture. Well, she would have none of it.

"You have to be nice to yourself as well" he continued.

Now it was her turn. "What do you mean?"

He took a moment. "You have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. You're just doing things for some people that they really want and need, and I'm sure they go away happy and satisfied, and I think that's all anyone can ask of themselves."

"I don't think that most people would think of what I do that way"

"If you believe in and remain true to yourself, it doesn't matter what other people think."

"But what if it does, and you really don't believe?"

"Then you get lost. And you can't let that happen. As I said, first and foremost, you have to be nice to yourself."

A budding philosopher, she thought. Or maybe just an underground shrink. But her head, which had been bursting at the seams much of the afternoon, now did feel much better.

"You're a very interesting person, Zeke," she said in all honesty as she was leaving. "and I think I have to thank you again, in more ways than one."

And on the elevator back up to her apartment she did feel surprisingly better. Maybe it was just the hangover finally wearing off. But far more likely she thought, maybe it was that a boil deep within her had partially been lanced.

****************

Her cough started the next morning. It was light and sporadic at first but rapidly progressed to barking spasms as the day went on. She took several doses of cough medicine, which usually was sufficient when she had this type of cold, but this time had little to no effect. She spent a miserable night, with little sleep, hacking away. The following morning she felt even worse and thought about going to a doctor but she didn't have the energy, and convinced herself that if she just got some rest it would get better soon.

One of the problems though was that it was getting colder and colder in her apartment. She turned the heat up a number of times but it didn't seem to be working and she began having episodes of shivering, and sometimes even shakes. She hadn't wanted to deal with him again so soon, but she had no choice. So she put in a call to the super to tell him about her heat not working and that it had to be fixed right away. Unfortunately, all she got was his answering machine, so she left a message explaining the problem, then bundled up in several layers of clothes and covered herself with multiple blankets in her bed.

Some three hours later Zeke arrived home to his apartment. He had spent the afternoon shopping to add some new items to his long neglected wardroom. He had had a sudden urge to make some attempt to improve on how he looked, at least the parts where he could. Not that it would ever help all that much, but there was no sense, he felt, in continuing to make an ugly situation worse.

As he put his new purchases down, he noticed that his answering machine was blinking with a new message. To his consternation he found that it was from her. He listened to the time stamp. It had been in the early afternoon. He chastised himself that he hadn't given her his cell number. He would have dropped everything and come right back to fix the problem and now she had been without heat for most of the day. He called her apartment immediately, but it rang and rang with no answer. Maybe it had just gotten too cold for her there and she had gone out to find someplace warm. He was a little mystified though. While slightly chilly out, it was really not that cold, but he knew that he had to fix the problem no matter what, and left for her apartment without delay.

Again, there was no answer when he rang her doorbell, so she must have gone out. Given the situation, he hoped that she wouldn't be upset that he used his master key to get in. Once inside he was assaulted with stifling heat. What was going on? He called out her name but got no answer. He went over to the thermostat and saw that it was dialed to the high nineties, and it had to be at least that in the apartment. He wondered for a moment if she might have been drinking again, or maybe playing a nasty prank on him, but immediately banished those thoughts. He would never let himself think of her like that. He called out her name again, just in case, and this time heard a weak reply of "In here" coming from her bedroom. Rushing into that room he found to his horror that she was covered with piles of blankets.

"Miss Ashley, what ... "

"It's freezing in here" she chattered. "You've got to do something about the heat."

He hurried over to her and put his hand on her forehead. She flinched away and started shivering again.

"You're burning up" he declared, which was met with a violent spasm of her coughing. "We've got to get you to a hospital."

"No" she protested weakly. "I just have to get warm and rest."

"There's no taking no for an answer Miss Ashley. We're going to go right now"

She sensed the urgency, even panic in his voice. Maybe she was sicker that she thought and it would be a good idea to go.

"Okay" she relented. "Just call me an Uber so I can get there."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm taking you there myself right away." At first he had thought about calling an ambulance, but believed even that would take too long. Normally she would have never allowed anyone to direct her like that, but she just didn't have to energy at this point to assert her control.

Zeke retrieved an overcoat from her closet and returned and carefully removed the numerous bed covers. He was very relieved to find that except for her bare feet she was in clothes, although they were quite damp from her heavy sweating. There was nothing that could be done about that now as he helped her to sit up. Seeing slippers at the side of the bed he got down on his knees to slip them on her feet. He lingered for a moment to collect himself and then got up to assist her into her coat and then to stand up. He could feel how weak she was, and that once again he was going to have to have to hold onto and support her as she walked. They made it that way as far as the elevator but once inside it her legs buckled and he had to lift her up completely in his arms.

"Don't you think you're carrying this knight thing a little bit too far" she murmured into his neck.

"You're not as heavy as my armor" he replied, and was heartened and encouraged when he received a soft chuckle in response.

As he continued to hold and carry her the elevator finally came to garage level under the building. It was a small garage as few of the tenants had cars, and those who did paid an exorbitant monthly rental for a space. Fortunately, as a perk of his job he got his space for free and his reserved spot was right next to the elevator. Carefully still supporting her he got her into the front passenger seat, securing her with the seatbelt, and then rushed to get in his own side, started the car and sped out.

Along the way she stopped answering his inquiries about how she was feeling, and began muttering mostly unintelligible words, although at one point the thought he heard her whisper "on his knees". But after that it was just more gibberish until she fell silent and didn't respond at all.

Arriving at the Emergency Room he enlisted two nurses to help her onto a rolling stretcher and they whisked her away as he gave the receptionist what information he had about her. He was then directed to the waiting room to wait. An excruciating three hours later, during which he had asked numerous times without success for an update, a doctor finally came out.

"Are you Ashley Cooper's husband?" the doctor asked first.

"No, she's not married" he replied.

"Does she have any family we can contact?"

"Not that I know of. Please Doc, is she okay?"

"Well, there are privacy regulations, and I really can't discuss her medical information with anyone except her family."

"Doc, please" he implored. "I'm the one who brought her in. I'm the super in her apartment and ... a friend. As far as I know there isn't anyone else."

The doctor himself was fed up with all the rules and regulations, especially the ones that defied common sense. And this was the person who had brought her in and had probably saved her life.

"She's very, very sick" he relented. "She has pneumonia in both lungs and we think the infection has spread to her blood stream, and her temperature is extremely high. We're admitting her to the Intensive Care Unit and starting her on antibiotics."

Zeke was staggered. "Is she going to be alright?"

The doctor paused. "She's young and seems otherwise healthy so she should respond. But if she had waited much longer to come in, well I'm not so sure."

"Can I see her?"

"They don't allow visitors in the ICU this late, particularly when they have a lot of work to do with her. And she's not even awake now. You can come back tomorrow when hopefully she'll be more stable."

Zeke reluctantly left and after a very restless night he returned to the hospital the next morning. He brought along her cell phone and a duffle bag of fresh clothes for her. She was still barely responsive, but the nurses assured him that her temperature had come down and that her other vital signs were good and that these were all positive signs. Not knowing what to expect he returned the next day and found her sitting up in bed and texting on her cell.

"Ah, my knight returns" she said with a weak smile but visibly brightening when she saw him.

"It's so great to see you looking so much better Miss Ashley" he responded.

"I don't know that I feel that much better. It still feels like a truck hit me. But according to the doctors it seems that I owe you another huge debt of gratitude."

There it was again, his face turning that interesting shade of red.

"I just wish that I had been at home when you called and we could have gotten you here much sooner."

Her smile faded and she looked at him sternly. "Yes" she said severely, "I'll have to think of a proper punishment for that."

The red became even more interesting.

Her smile returned, even brighter. "I'm joking Zeke. It's just the professional in me coming out. You were quite literally a lifesaver this time, and ... "she looked away, "... there are no words" she said softly.