The Super

"Just get better, that's all I ask."

She regained her composure. "Well, the doctors say that I'll be here for at least several more days. And I also want to thank you for bringing in my phone, and the change of clothes. You're a godsend. I feel connected to the world again. And Zeke "she added, "after all this I think we should drop the Miss, and have it just be Ashley."

He grinned. "Whatever you say, Ashley."

"Yes" she concluded.

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

Over the next days she received one visit apiece from each of her business associates whom she had called on her cell to let them know of her situation. They all assured her that they would take care of her scheduled clients for as long as she needed. They all had an understanding that they would never try to poach each other's patrons, but if a customer requested, then all bets were off. She realized that of this, she now had very little concern.

Zeke came every day, which helped to break up the boredom, but she began to appreciate that it was becoming somewhat more, and that she actually looked forward to his visits. By the end of the week the doctors felt that she was well enough to go home on oral antibiotics, but with strict instructions to rest and recuperate there and not venture out for at least another week. She still felt weak enough to not put up any argument.

Zeke insisted on driving her home and she didn't put up an argument to that either. Upon walking into her apartment for the first time in over a week, with him following carrying her bag, she was astonished to find that the entire place, which had been in utter disarray before she left, was now in complete order and spotless. And her refrigerator, which was usually near to empty, was now full, as were a number of her cupboards with a variety of boxed and canned foodstuffs.

"Zeke, what is all this" she asked, almost in dismay.

"As my job as a super, it's important to keep everything neat and tidy."

"But the food. I can't have you buying my groceries. And I eat out most of the time."

"Well, you won't be able to do that until you're completely well, as per doctor's orders. So, as I didn't know what you particularly like to eat, I got a variety of different things that you should easily have for breakfast and lunch. And I'll bring up dinner for you each night."

He did have a point about her not being able to go out, but this was all too much. Still, she had the sudden desire to have some company during her enforced convalescence.

"Okay Zeke, sure. I'd love to have you bring dinner up for me until I get my strength back. But only if you agree to stay and eat it with me."

"Whatever you wish" he said with conviction.

"We're in full agreement on that" she acknowledged completely.

His first dinner that night was a homemade chicken soup brimming with vegetables and accompanied by a hearty bread, all perfect for a recovering patient. Over the following days his meals became more adventuresome, and she enjoyed them all, but nowhere near as much as their conversations during them. He regaled her with amusing anecdotes at which she couldn't help but laugh. He also seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of very interesting historical and current event tidbits. Of even greater importance to her though, was that he was an even more avid listener, and she became amazed at how much she began to reveal of herself, including personal details that she never discussed with anyone, even how estranged she was from her father who had abused her mother, both physically and mentally, throughout their marriage until she had died, and how he had never showed his only child much affection either.

She marveled how he heard all of this with quiet empathy but never false sympathy, nor ever tried to one up her with his own pain, which she could sense existed. With some firm coaxing on her part though he did eventually offer up that he was an orphan, and had been raised in a Catholic orphanage where the nuns had been very strict and demanding, but had provided him with a good education, and had insisted that he develop the skills needed to exist in the outside world. He had learned his lessons well, he said, and now had a secure and decent livelihood, though she wondered briefly if it was much of a life. If not, she sadly surmised, much of the reason was readily evident. His infectious humor quickly returned and dispatched this somber assessment, as if he was determined to never allow it to be of concern.

He always insisted on cleaning up after their dinner, stating that she had to rest to regain her strength. He even took to 'tidying' up the rest of the apartment before he would leave for the night. As the week progressed, she did feel her energy levels rising and her strength returning.

At the beginning of the next week she had her follow up doctor's appointment. Despite his protestations, she went alone. As she was feeling back to herself it was important to her that she reassert her independence and control. The doctor told her that the pneumonia and infection had now completely resolved and that she could resume regular activities. Back to the old life.

In the Uber ride home she admitted to herself though that even with the dire and extremely unpleasant cause of it all, she had strangely enjoyed the respite of her recovery and all that it had entailed. ALL that it had entailed, she realized. She didn't know what to make of the super. Zeke. Just that she also didn't know how she could ever repay him. But she knew that she had to do something, as much for her own sake as for anything that she could do for him. As she thought over the events of the past week an idea did come. It wouldn't be enough by far, but it was something which she believed both of them would enjoy, and would fit their recent circumstances well. And just as suddenly she wanted to issue the invitation personally and as soon as possible, because she also now knew that the only person with whom she wanted to share the good news of her clean bill of health was ... the super.

Not wanting to wait another moment as she arrived back at her building, she took the elevator down to the basement rather than up to her apartment. Moving rapidly down the dingy hall once again she reached his door and rang the bell.

"Ashley" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice as he ushered her in. "What did the doctor say?"

She grinned. "That I'm as fit as a fiddle, and can get back to my life."

"That's fantastic" he grinned in return, although it masked more than a bit of melancholy inside. While the events that had precipitated it all had been horrific, and he had been panic stricken for her more than once, there was no question in his mind that many of these past few days had been the best in his life. And now it was going to be over, and he would once again just be the super, who would be available for the occasional odds and ends that needed fixing.

"And I came down to personally extend an invitation" she continued.

"To what?" he asked.

"I want to make dinner for you tomorrow night. Contrary to what you might think, I CAN cook. I just don't like to do it very often except for special occasions. And this is a very, very special occasion, and you've been a very special part of it, and I plan to make us both a feast, to celebrate the end of my illness."

And the likely end to everything connected to it, he thought morosely, though he hid it well behind a facade of happiness.

"I would be honored to attend" he responded with a bright smile.

"Great, it's settled then."

At that moment his cell phone began to ring in his bedroom where he had left it behind in his haste to answer the door, hoping it would be her.

"I think that might be a very important call that I have to take" he said apologetically. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?" he implored.

"Of course. Go take your call. I can wait."

As he hurried off down the hall to his bedroom she gazed with interest around the room and decided to take a closer look at his personal library in the far bookcase. She walked over and saw that he had a large number of novels, both classic and modern, many different books of history, and not a few biographies on a wide variety of people. It was certainly an impressive collection, and she had to admit that despite outside appearances ... no, she chided herself, she shouldn't go there ... he was a very fascinating person.

It was then that she saw them, shoved behind several taller tomes at the far end of the bottom shelf, a cache of magazines which, although partially obscured by the books, the tops and titles could be seen. It couldn't be. Not him too.

She went over and pulled a few out. It was true, and she felt as if she had been kicked in the gut. He was just like all rest, no different at all. And everything that had happened, all he had done, now took on a completely new light. It had all been a sham, him scurrying around like some sort of servant, supposedly trying to help her when all he probably wanted was to get back down as soon as possible, to this hole in the ground to get his rocks off. It had all been for him, not at all for her, trying to ingratiate himself with her and speed up her recovery. He knew her profession. She had told him. And now he was just waiting for her to get well so he could make the big ask, probably expecting a couple of freebies in gratitude for all he had done. Her growing fury was only topped by her bitter disappointment. And he was undoubtedly so excited about the dinner tomorrow because it would be the perfect opportunity for the ask. Well, she had made the invitation and she wouldn't take it back. He would have his dinner as promised. She owed him at least that. And then she would afford him that opportunity to pursue what he really wanted. And that would be that, and it would all be over and done with. She put the magazines back in their place just before he re-entered the room.

"Did you get your business taken care of" she asked evenly.

"It came out extremely well" he beamed.

She nodded.

"I have to go now, Zeke. And you don't have to bring me dinner tonight. I want to eat out. Get back into the routine."

His face fell.

"But we'll still have our dinner tomorrow night" she continued. "Be at my place around 7."

His face brightened, as much as a face like his could, she thought sourly.

"On the dot" he promised enthusiastically. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"Yes." No doubt, she was sure as she left.

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

The next morning, she went out to shop for all the necessary ingredients for her feast. She still planned to make the best meal that she was able, before the real action took place. Professional pride. There would be a salad, several items for the main course, and a homemade dessert. Once back at home she spent much of the afternoon preparing it all. When it was all made, simmering or cooling, she set about getting herself ready for the evening. She intended to make it very easy for him, which in the end would make it easier for her as well. She started out selecting a pair of shiny leather, high heeled boots, opting against stiletto heels though. She didn't want to make things too obvious. Instead she picked a pair with wider four inch heels, still high enough to stand above and look down at him. Also deciding against other leather, she chose a black velvet skirt that extended just below the knees, and a dark violet silk blouse. It was an outfit designed to be noticed, without signaling its real intent. She was a pro, and would have him squirming in anxious anticipation of his ask.

At precisely 7 o'clock the doorbell rang. He was also smartly dressed, although not in any ostentatious way, but certainly more dapper than in his usual work shirts and jeans. He was holding a wrapped box which he handed to her as he entered.

"Just my small contribution to help celebrate your recovery" he said sheepishly.

He was really working his role to the hilt, she smirked internally.

"Would you like to open it?" he asked hopefully

She hadn't intended to. Tribute always came after. But she might as well get it out of the way now and be done with it. She slowly unwrapped the package and opened it. Her breath hitched as she lifted it out. Her grandmother's vase.

"Zeke ... How ...?"

"I know a local artisan who's great at restoring things. That's who I was on the phone with when you were down at my place yesterday, to make sure it was done. It took him a while but he said you can hardly tell."

She looked at it closely. He was right. It was as good as new. She didn't know what to say. She walked the few steps to set it back on its table and then shook herself together. There were still the evening's festivities to attend to.

"I can't thank you enough for this, Zeke," she said sincerely, but then steeled herself with a smile, "but I think I should begin to try. Your dinner awaits."

Once at the table she personally served him every course. He lavishly praised each one, which, in spite of herself, pleased her immensely, even as she knew his probable underlying motive. What did mystify her however was that, although she carefully kept watch, he never once appeared to look down at her legs or boots, even as she made sure to parade and linger around him as she brought in each new dish. He seemed perfectly happy to just eat his meal and talk with her about any number of mundane topics. She couldn't figure out what game he was playing, though he was very good at it. But she was better. If she had to force the issue, she would. As they finished dessert she spoke up.

"I'll take care of all this mess later, Zeke. Why don't we go into the living room to sit and talk some more."

"Oh, I'll clean all this up after, Ashley. You've done too much already. I don't want you having a relapse" he replied half in jest.

I'll bet you don't, she thought snidely. "We'll decide about that later" she said as she led him into the living room. She sat down in one of her overstuffed easy chairs and indicated that should sit on the one diagonally next to it. As he perched on the edge of that chair, she brought her legs up for his full view to rest on the hassock in front of hers. To her frustration once again, he didn't even glance down at her feet, but seemed content and pleased to just continue on with their conversation. It was time to take matters into her own hands, and bring everything out into the open so it could be done, and they could both move on.

"I want to ask you a question, Zeke, and I want you to be totally honest with me." she interjected into the talk they were having.

"Always, Ashley" he replied earnestly.

"We'll see about that" she said. She looked at him severely and pressed forward. "You have a foot fetish, don't you Zeke."

This produced that delightful crimson hue.

"Uh ... well, ah, I ... Uh" he stammered.

"Don't hem and haw" she demanded. "I saw all the magazines in your apartment, so it's pointless to lie. I'll ask you one more time. You have a foot fetish ... and more, don't you Zeke."

She watched him draw himself up and take a deep breath.

"I ... I do" he answered quietly

There it was. Now to move on.

"Then why haven't you even once looked down at my legs, my boots, my feet, tonight. You know what I do for a living. Why haven't you asked?"

His eyes widened in astonishment.

"I could never do that, Ashley. That's your job and I would never impose on you for anything like that." He paused as if struggling to put it into words. "That's never been how I ... see you."

This wasn't going as she had envisioned.

"It's what I do, Zeke" she said less sternly.

"It may be what you do, but it's not who you are."

She was clearly puzzled, and not quite sure how to proceed. She slowly leaned forward, unzipped and took off both of her boots, and then laid her bare legs and feet back on the hassock.

"Kiss my feet, Zeke" she said firmly

This time he did glance down at them for a moment, then back up, his eyes locked onto hers. She saw the hunger, the yearning ... but then, the resolve.

"I ... can't"

She was now truly perplexed.

"Why not?" she questioned hoarsely.

He looked down and then up once more, gathering himself to try to answer, to have her understand.

"Because it would be for my gratification, my pleasure, when it should only and ever be for yours."

She was stunned. For a moment she just sat there, uncomprehending. That moment, and so much more, passed. Then, in a much softer voice ...

"Kiss my feet, Ezekiel. Please." She now gathered herself as well. "Because I want it. I need it. More than you can ever know. Kiss my feet. Please."

He could feel the barriers around himself, the ones that he had erected so painstakingly over the years, begin to crumble. There was no mistaking the plea in her voice, and his ability to resist collapsed with it. He rose off his chair and went down on his knees before her. Slowly he brought his lips to the sole of one of her feet, lingered there as if in enchantment, then moved his lips to the bottom of her other foot, finally pulling away as if he had presumed too much.

"I want more, Ezekiel" she implored. "I want your lips, your mouth, your tongue on my heels, my arches, my toes, everywhere. Adore my feet, Ezekiel. Adore ME."

He needed no further command. He lowered his face down fervently once more to first her soles, then moving his lips gently, slowly, reverently paying homage to every inch of both of her feet and all of her toes. And as he continued, she was swept up with an indescribable feeling which she had never before experienced, knowing only that she had to have, and to know, more.

"Speak to me, Ezekiel. Tell me what you want me to know. What you need more than anything."

His fortifications were now totally vanquished, the walls he had built to keep at bay what he so feared to be true from ever reaching him, so that he could continue to survive. But she had stripped that away from him now, and he had no choice but to lay himself open to her, hoping desperately against hope.

"Please Miss Ashley, I know that I have no right, I could never deserve, but please ... " He hesitated, but then abandoned all restraint. "let me be your super, not just of your home, but of your life. Let me take care of all of your wants and needs. Let me live in the basement of your life, unseen and unheard, except for whenever you have need of anything from me. Please, Miss Ashley."

"And what would you expect in return?" she pursued, needing to fully know.

This was the crux. And for himself he knew it to be the brutal truth. He mentally prepared to be completely open and fully exposed to her.

"This gift, this wonderful gift that you have given me tonight, that you saw past ... and offered it ... to me," he began slowly, but then pressed forth more intensely. "It will never have to be repeated. The memory alone will always be more than enough to drive my unending need to be allowed, in even the smallest way ... to be yours."

He was now lain totally bare before her. He pulled his face from the bottoms of her feet and waited with his head hung down. After what seemed like an eternity ...

"No, Ezekiel."

Those words crashed down upon him, and he had no further defenses.

"I don't want you in the basement of my life."

Her judgement had been rendered, and the truth could no longer be denied. He was what he was. Exactly as the whole of the world had always seen him. And he would never now be anything more.

"I want you in the penthouse, sharing it with me."

His head snapped up in unbelief.

"I will always want your worship and adoration, and demand your unquestioning service to all my needs, Ezekiel. But only if you can give me what I need so very much more."

"What is that?" he whispered in awe.