An Elegant Seduction Pt. 04

Lynne is initially hired to teach Petra horse riding in preparation for her upcoming role in her mother's directorial début but when veteran actress, Fatima discovers Lynne is also a lesbian she negotiates a separate cash payment if Lynne will share some of her lesbian experience and insight with Petra. In part three, after dinner with two of Lynne's friends, things take a dramatic turn with Petra's clumsy attempt at seduction. It ends suddenly when Petra has an epileptic seizure, forcing Lynne to take affirmative action. In part four, Lynne wakes up in Petra's bed to find Fatima sitting beside the bed but after explaining the situation, things are taken to a whole new level when Petra tries once again to seduce Lynne behind her mother's back.

NB: Thank you to all the kind people who commented. This is one of those stories where a writer throws the plot out the window and just lets the characters go. It's called writing by the seat of your pants instead of laying out plot points, I prefer the latter but on this occasion I decided to let go and see where this one leads.

*****

Initially my reaction to Fatima's grim expression and her comment, "boy was I wrong about you," was fear and shame. I was lying in her daughter's bed wearing nothing but a pair of knickers. I assumed Petra had probably told her mother about her seizure last night but what the hell was I doing in her bed? I hadn't heard her get out of bed so I guessed she was probably downstairs and probably told to stay there while her mother dealt with this breach of protocol. Had I broken any rules? Petra was twenty one, I was twenty eight so even if something had happened there wasn't much Fatima could do but here's where it got a little messy.

Fatima had mentioned another gay woman who could have given Petra some insight into the lesbian mind, but that woman might also take advantage of the situation and do a little exploring of her own. Last night my hand had indeed been halfway to paradise before nature took over and turned me from seductress to nursemaid.

The shame came out of that and the fact that I was nearly naked and Fatima was elegantly dressed in a two-tone brown silk blouse and wool blend trousers. She wouldn't have been out of place on a BBC talk show and I looked like I'd just come off the set of a porn film.

Fatima read my expression and her eyes softened as she brushed at my hair.

"You were hired to help Petra prepare for her latest role but last night you went above and beyond the call of duty. You were there for her when she needed you most and that is something a mother can never forget."

I felt some of the fear dissipate in that moment but I stayed under the duvet. Fatima managed a crooked grin as she glanced at the clothes I'd borrowed on the window seat.

"And I see you helped yourself to some of the clothes from the wardrobe room."

"It um, wasn't my idea," I bit my lip.

"No," she replied, "it was Petra's idea, she told me this morning," she flicked at her hair.

"She told me a few other things this morning."

I remembered having my hand halfway up Petra's leg but said nothing as Fatima went on.

"She's not a serial liar like her father but she does keep things from me. This business might seem glamorous but the glitz and glamour come at a cruel price, your privacy is now public knowledge and the press are only too willing to expose us as frauds, predators, selfish, the list goes on and on. When I first started out there was a code of honour between reporters and stars, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement that enriched both parties. But these days a careless comment gets tweeted and before you know it you've got millions of people, often with very low intelligence demanding your head on a plate, sometimes literally."

She picked a ball of fluff from her trousers.

"But I'm rambling," our eyes met briefly, "a story of an actress's daughter who has a seizure can be taken several ways, she's under too much pressure from a perfectionist demanding mother, I'm a bitch, she's the victim, she's taking drugs and is anorexic, it goes on and on."

"I told Fiona," I blurted out, "I had to ring someone but she won't tell a soul, I made her promise," I reached out for my phone, "Shannon won't talk either."

"Good," she watched as I pressed the button and then frowned.

"Shit, my battery died."

"Let me see," Fatima took it from me, "it's the same as my phone, I'll put it on charge and you can take a shower," she nodded at the clothes, "you can keep those clothes as well. If you want I'll get Petra to take you into the room to select some more clothes. What's down there will not all get used, and some of the clothes will go to charity."

"Thanks," I looked at her, "how is Petra?"

"Downstairs arguing with her boyfriend or whatever she calls him."

"I didn't know she had one."

"Neither did I until this morning," she told me, "which should tell us both something," she rose and looked at the door.

"Don't take her riding today or tomorrow. I'm taking her over to Lewis in the morning to scout out some shooting locations but you're welcome to stay here today for as long as you want."

"I have to call Gordon."

"I'll do it for you," she smiled, "now go on, get into the shower and come down for breakfast," she moved towards the door and I followed her progress. She stopped and leaned against the door jamb and looked down for a moment.

"I know people say this a lot and sometimes they even mean it but if there's anything I can ever do for you, don't hesitate to ask. I may not always be available right when you need me and I might not be able to do everything but I'm here for you, if you need me."

She looked past me and smiled.

"There, I've said it," she nodded at me and left the room. I stared blankly after her and felt a surge of emotion flooding through me.

Petra was downstairs when I eventually came down the staircase. I'd put on the pussybow blouse Petra had 'loaned' last night but left the ties hanging loose and the top two buttons undone. The satin garment was tucked into the jeans Petra had made me change out of and the outfit caused Fatima to raise an eyebrow as she looked me over.

"Nothing like casual chic, it suits you. A nice jacket and heels would complete the look."

I thanked her for the compliment and made my way through to the front room with a tray of toast and coffee. Petra was sitting in a recliner by the window wearing a dark blue shirtdress, belted at the waist and a pair of sheepskin boots.

She had the phone to her ear and judging by the conversation she was talking to a girlfriend because she said.

"I know, he did the same thing to me. He's such a fucking sleaze, he made out like the hotel was owned by his dad but he only owns twenty percent. I went all wide eyed and pretended to be impressed but you know what they say, girls talk," she glanced at me and waved.

"And it's not even like it's a good hotel, it's nice but the service is shite and every time you step into the hotel bar there's at least one Arab prince wanting to marry you. I was like what the fuck, have I got a sign around my neck saying, desperately seeking?"

I was only half listening to the conversation as I ate my breakfast, but by the time I was halfway through my coffee I'd ascertained that the hotel was in Doha and she'd been there six weeks ago. Petra hung up as I drained the coffee and swivelled in her seat to look at me.

"Looking good, babe that blouse was made for you."

"That's the second time someone complimented me on my outfit today."

"Well get used to it, mum was really touched by the way you looked after me today. At this rate you could shag me senseless in front of her and she wouldn't bat an eyelid," she smiled, "just kidding about that last bit."

"How are you feeling today?"

"A little washed out but I'm picking up," she looked down as her phone rang again and swore.

"Fuck, not again," she swiped the screen.

"What the fuck is it now? I thought I told you I never wanted to hear your voice again?"

A few moments later she got out of the chair and stalked across the room.

"No, no, no, it's not happening and if you try to call me one more time I'll block the fucking number and tweet that picture of you in the hotel with my knickers on your head," she left the room still talking. I exhaled slowly and sank back against the back of the couch as I tried to come to grips with this new turn of events.

A couple of minutes later Petra entered the room again and dropping the phone on the coffee table, sat on the couch with her back to the arm and stretched her legs out until her toes were touching my leg.

"I'm sorry about going off like that but I've had it with him."

"Who's him?"

"Andrew."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Hardly," Petra rolled her eyes, "two shags and a blow job hardly count for a commitment. He heard I was up here and decided to call and invite himself up for a week or two, like I've been here nearly two weeks and suddenly, it's oh I miss you."

"He might be in love," I ventured.

"Andrew in love?" Petra chuckled, "hardly, I don't think he can spell the word love unless it was tattooed on some woman's arse."

She slid further along the couch and put her feet onto my leg.

"He's one of those Eton brats, being groomed by daddy to be the next CEO of daddy's little consortium. He's crying right now because I told him my legs are closed," she went on, "but by nightfall he'll be sliding between some woman's legs and telling her he loves her."

"So he's a bawbag," I grabbed her foot.

Petra burst out laughing.

"I love that saying," she finally managed, "I heard you say that the other day."

"It's a beauty, we've got some good sayings."

"Tell me some more," she pushed against my other leg, "what do you call a dirty person."

"Minger, skank, mawkit."

"I love it, minger," she sat up and reached for her phone, "I'm going to text Tracey a Scottish saying," she picked up the phone and pressed the home button.

"How would you say someone's stupid?"

"Oh, yer bum's oot the windae."

"Translate that," she adjusted her position sightly.

"Your bum's out the window."

She tapped out a message and sent it, and while she was waiting for a response, she pulled off her boots and laid back down again.

"She said it's not," she read the message and then a mischievous look came into her eyes, "how would you say get fucked without saying fucked?"

"You're not going to say that to your friend," I grabbed her foot.

"No, of course not," she moved her foot to my crotch, "to Andrew."

"Away and boil your head."

Petra smirked as she tapped out the message to her ex boyfriend and while she was waiting for a reply she hooked an arm behind her head and looked straight at me.

I've had those looks before, more than once. It's the look a woman gives to someone she fancies and not in a 'you're pretty awesome' but more in of 'I could shag you,' kind of look. I felt her heel moving against my fly. It was slow and deliberate and I knew she was testing me to see how I would react.

And how did I react?

I let her away with it. Her mother was just down the hall in the kitchen. I could hear Anke coming down the stairs and the murmur of conversation. Petra hooked her left foot behind my left leg and jerked on it and I opened my legs and rested my hand on her foot. She had this look of bemused concentration on her face, like someone playing a game or watching a cat chase a ball across the carpet. The heel pressed harder and she shifted ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed as she kept moving her foot up and down. I closed my eyes and began slowly guiding her foot up and then down again. The phone beeped and I opened my eyes but she hadn't read the message, she had this smile on her face as she let me use her foot to massage my genitals.

I heard Anke coming through and Petra's expression changed as she listened and we stopped but then Fatima called on her and she went back through to the kitchen. A phone rang somewhere upstairs and I heard someone running for the stairs.

"See if Lynne's phone has charged too while you're up there," Fatima called out.

The rubbing started again and I felt the familiar sensations of arousal. I moved my left hand down her leg, gently stroking it but not going under her dress. Petra's eyes softened and the phone beeped again but she left the phone on her belly and pulled her dress up past her knee and tried to undo a button. We held eye contact for at least a minute while she undid two buttons, the soft viscose material fell away as she flicked it over her knees to expose her knees and the start of her thighs. I moved my hand further down her leg and slid it around to tickle the back of her knee. Petra closed her eyes and exhaled, she stroked her front all the way down to where the vee ended and then back up again.

I heard a fridge opening and a phone ringing in the kitchen. I kept tickling the back of her knee and she opened her eyes as Fatima answered the phone. Petra's eyes opened a moment later as she sat up and pulling her right leg back, sat on her foot but because she was closer, her left leg was now in between my legs with her knee positioned against my crotch.

Slowly, deliberately, Petra took my left hand and slid it up under her dress to her panties. I felt the edge of the material and then her lips. She released my hand and slid her hand over my crotch while her other hand touched my neck. I gingerly tickled her genital lips and then I felt her tugging at the zip of my jeans.

Anke was coming down the stairs when Petra unzipped me and slid her fingers inside and I shifted ever so slightly as she found my moist lips. I got my fingers under the elastic and they slipped down towards her opening, she bit her lip as I found it and I bent my index finger to let the knuckle slide up and down. Her mouth got closer to mine and then I heard Anke's voice.

"It's charged."

"Good, can you take it to her, please, she's probably going through withdrawal."

Our mouths met in a quick and tender kiss as Anke started down the hallway and then we parted and she swung away. The phone dropped to the floor and she went with it to button her dress while I zipped my jeans up. By the time Anke came through with my phone, Petra was rising and falling back onto the couch beside me.

"Your phone is charged," Anke approached the couch.

"Thanks," I managed a smile.

"Did you like your breakfast?"

"I did, thanks," I replied.

"Are you all right?" Anke looked at me and then Petra, "you look a little, how do you say it, flushed in the face?"

"It's a little warm."

"Yes, it is a bit warm, I will turn the thermostat down," she picked up the tray.

We watched her leave the room, Fatima was talking to someone on the phone and Petra suddenly exhaled and leaned against me. She rested her arm on my leg and grabbed my knee.

"Well this is an interesting twist," I murmured.

"She doesn't know about that yet," she replied.

"Are you thinking of telling her or is this just a private thing?"

"I don't know," she traced circles on my knee, "what do you think?"

"I don't know how she'll react."

Petra was just about to reply when we heard approaching footsteps and Fatima's voice.

"Not a problem, I'll call the housekeeper later and let them know you're coming."

We moved apart a little as Fatima entered the room.

"I'll let you talk to your niece and I'll see you soon, inshallah."

"Sabina," she rounded the couch and handed over her phone, "she's coming to London."

"Oh," Petra took the phone and put it to her ear, "hiya Sabina."

Fatima looked at me and maybe it's just my natural paranoia but I could have sworn she knew exactly what we'd been doing because she looked at Petra immediately afterwards and then retreated to the seat Petra had occupied a little while earlier. The conversation went on for a good five minutes before she eventually hung up.

"I didn't know she was coming so soon," Petra looked at her mother, "I thought it wasn't until next month."

"Well she was planning on it but then a buyer came through and bought the house, some wealthy Qatari."

"They're the ones with the money," Petra stared at the ceiling.

"So, what are you two doing for the rest of the day?"

"I'd like to go horse riding," Petra grabbed my knee.

"No, not yet," her mother replied, "when you get back from Lewis, speaking of which," her eyes shifted to me, "would you like to join us on Lewis? We'll just be driving around taking pictures to try and find a good place to shoot a few scenes but we'll have time to do a bit of sight seeing and the ferry ride is a lot of fun."

"I um," I frowned, "I'd have to run it by Gordon first, technically I'm supposed to be at work today."

"Well let me know before tonight," she leaned on her palm, "and don't worry about paying, I'll cover your expenses."

"No bother," I smiled.

Fatima studied me for a moment.

"About our little conversation this morning, I meant what I said up there. I've got a whole room through there filled with clothes. Why don't you take Petra through there and pick out some outfits, she knows the ones I'm going to use for the film."

"Sounds like a good idea," I nudged Petra, "let's raid the wardrobe."

Fatima got out of the chair and retrieved her phone but as she leaned over the table, her eyes were scanning us and then she left the room, her head bowed in thought.

"Come on," I nudged Petra's leg and picked up my phone, "let's see what we can find."

The way to the wardrobe room meant we had to pass by the kitchen. I had my phone in my back pocket and my hands in my front pockets. Petra was ambling along beside me swinging the tie of the shirt dress and smiling to herself. Fatima was staring at a laptop screen and our eyes met as we passed the doorway.

We reached the wardrobe room and stepped inside. Petra closed the door and undid the tie around her waist, it fell loose and spinning around, she put her arms around me, I felt her breasts against mine and her hips riding up and down ever so slowly and I was just standing there with my arms around her and wondering what the hell I was going to do next.

My hands dropped lower to her cheeks and I grabbed them firmly and Petra's response was to push her nose under the collar of my blouse and grab my arse firmly. Her lips found my bare skin and kissed it, I felt her teeth pressing into my shoulder and she wiggled her hips slightly, a firm breast slipped between my breasts, trapping my left breast between hers. Petra's movements became slower and I let it continue. I felt her teeth pressing into skin and then I felt a sharp pain followed by a dullness. I winced and the pressure suddenly eased.

Her left hand eased up my buttocks to the blouse and then satin slid up over my panties, her right hand was kneading my cheek at the same time. Petra's lips moved to my neck as she kept sliding up and down against me. The blouse was coming out of my jeans as she kissing my neck and shoulder and finally I slid her dress up over her panties and traced circles through the silk material. Petra pushed harder against me, her movements became slower as I squeezed her tightly.

She pushed her hips hard against mine and took a half step to one side, straddled my leg and started rubbing her genitals against my leg. I think one of the buttons of her dress must have been in the right position to slide over her lips, because she shivered and rubbed harder. Her left hand slid under the blouse to my back, the movement pulled more of the blouse out and I slipped my hands behind her panties to the patch of hair at the front. Firm fingers slid down between her lips and a digit found the opening to her wet passage and slid inside.

She winced and moved from my neck to my throat and finally my mouth. A hand found my bra and pulled outwards as we kissed and then we both froze as we heard footsteps coming towards the door.