Obeisance

Jenny rubbed the lotion into her feet. Age did no one favors, she'd concluded years ago. Herself included.

She felt at a crossroads in life. Some would call it a mid-life crisis. Hers felt a little different, however. She was a Christian harlot -- Ahmad reveled in her being that, her being his conquest, her abandoning her heritage for the blood debt. But she'd aspired to more. She did the prayers, five times a day. She wore the abaya and the hijab around her home, to be pleasing to Ahmad. She'd set that pencil dick, Douglas, onto his own Arabic journey. She wanted to be more than a harlot -- she wanted to be Ahmad's convert.

She bowed her head until it touched the carpet, uttering her morning prayers.