There was no question about it, I had to do it; if I'd asked Martha's advice she would have been horrified, she was horrified. She declared it a waste of course but the full horror of what I had done chilled her to the bone, she shared this with me in the dark days that followed his death.
I had saved that perfume for years, it was the most expensive, most precious thing I had, but I had to give it up, to pour it out, and I knew that he would receive it, I helped Martha to serve the men and then when they were seated and talking I acted. The smell filled the room as soon as I opened the jar, and blocking out the sudden pin drop silence I carried on with my task, I knelt at his feet and poured out the perfume, every last drop. It flowed across the arch of his foot and down between his toes, it flowed under and over him filling the room with its presence making an aromatic statement of love and desire.
Oblivious to the murmurings that had started around me I loosened my hair, and as it fell to my waist I gathered it up like a towel and began to dry those precious feet; feet that had walked dusty paths and scaled mountainsides, feet that had carried him from town to town, from needy person to needy person. Feet that had stood strong and firm anchoring him to the ground whist threats and abuse had assailed him. Feet that would need strength for the task to come….
I know that it was an erotic act, and yes I'll admit it I loved him so much that it hurt, but this was deeper that eroticism, stronger than any desire that I had ever known, he had to know that he was loved, was cherished, I had to tell him so...
And so through smell and touch, through sensuous smell and daring touch I reached out to him sensing his need, and he responded, affirming my actions and silencing the critics.
I would do it again, I would take the risk, I would give everything I have, and more, my reputation may be in question, my dignity in tatters, but he was worth it, is worth it, will always be worth it……
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