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 four, Petra tries harder to seduce Lynne whilst Fatima is in the other room but it ends suddenly when they are almost caught. Fatima then defuses the situation with an impromptu makeover session and Lynne eventually leaves with new clothes. But that afternoon, Lynne arrives at the Estate dressed to kill with lingerie for Lynne. The two women retire to the tiny bedsit and Lynne is now alone with the woman whose pictures once adorned her bedroom.
Now to recap, when I was a teenager I had several pictures of hot women plastered over my bedroom walls. Madonna and Carole Vorderman just to name two, but there was one other woman who'd caught my eye, Fatima Haleemi. The picture was taken a few months before her marriage ended and at the time he'd just been caught with his pants down, literally. At the time I recall being angry that someone could treat such a beautiful woman so badly and as the months slipped by I found myself drawn to her face and body. When I masturbated I had a steady stream of women who took their turn with me, Fatima was one of those women.
Now she was in my bedsit, the door was closed and she'd drawn the curtains while I stood by the couch with a bag of lingerie she'd brought for me. My first thought that Fiona would be wanting to know all the details but as I perched on the arm of the couch I also felt completely overwhelmed. She was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and red leather skirt, it creaked when she walked and when she turned to face me I could see the bottom press stud was undone. Her right hand rested on the silver buckle of a wide leather belt and she had a sly smile on her face.
"A small place," she looked past me to the bed, "but it's cosy."
"Cosy enough but it is small."
"I'm surprised Gordon didn't give you one of the rooms in the house," she moved to some family photos hanging on the wall.
"He did," I followed her progress, "but I kind of like my own space, in here I've got everything I need within easy reach."
"You're not wrong there," she murmured, her hand was still on the belt buckle and I couldn't keep my eyes off her arse. Any moment I half expected to hear the sound of leather sliding through the buckle but then she glanced over her shoulder.
"You've got pictures of your mother, sister and stepfather but none of your father."
"I never knew him," I rose and walked over to join her, "he was in the American army, mum was his mistress but when she fell pregnant he refused to have anything to do with her in case his wife found out."
"What a bastard," she glanced at me, "if you don't mind me saying."
"I agree," I replied, "to be honest I've never had any compunction to try and contact him, my stepdad is the closest thing to a father I've ever had and he's more like an uncle I suppose."
"I've tried to do that for Petra," she slid a hand beneath her shirt, "she has her father and while I would never dream of coming between them, I'm always relieved when she comes home. The men I introduce her to are older than her but not always as old as me," she turned around and looked at my bed.
"This little fling with Andrew is over but I've already called his father to let him know the truth about his son," she walked towards my bed, "let's just say that little Andie is going to face his father's wrath. You might read something about in the papers over the next few days but you heard it from me first."
Fatima sat on my bed and stared at my kitchen bench. I followed her line of sight and then she looked down and exhaled slowly.
"I need you to do something for me that might be foreign to you but it would help me to make a decision regarding Petra."
"Sure," I replied, "name it."
"I need you to tell me what has happened between you two," she looked at me, "this morning when she came through to see me she told me what had happened the previous night, as much as she could remember. She also made me promise not to terminate our little agreement because she felt as if she'd come to a new and deeper understanding of herself."
She turned and slid back along the bed and put her back to the wall.
"Leave nothing out, I have nothing against you being involved with my daughter but I'm her mother and because of certain things that have happened in the past that I'm not going to go into, I need clarity," she slid out of her heels and stretched her legs out onto my bed.
"And be assured that what you tell me stays between us. I'm not going to use it against her."
Now I'm not a grass, I hate it when people tell tales behind my back but because of what had gone on, my own sense of guilt and unease, and a basic desire for my own clarity I told her everything. It took the better part of fifteen to twenty minutes and by then I was sitting on the edge of my bed with my leg pulled up in front of me. Fatima had listened without interruption and that was a little unsettling. I don't know of many people who can do that for so long.
"It's certainly gone far enough," she mused, "I had that feeling when I walked into the room this morning, which is why I sent you upstairs for that skirt. I needed to defuse the sexual tension," she stared at the ceiling.
"Part of the reasoning behind what happened could be an acting thing. Actors try to get into the role and become the person they're playing and that's certainly how it started but somewhere along the line she's crossed the border and pushed things too far. It's common enough in the acting profession and you've probably read about stars going over the edge and believing their own hype. Never believe your own hype, trust me," she nodded at the bathroom door.
"I'm worth millions and you're on a basic living wage, with fringe benefits but if I go in there and sit down to take a shit, it comes out the same orifice and smells the same. Shit is just shit," her eyes shifted to me.
"I told you I had another woman lined up to do this but I was not sure about her."
"Yes," I nodded.
"The other woman was Anke and while I trust Anke up to a point, I don't want her tutoring my daughter on lesbian behaviour, lifestyles or anything else to do with being gay. I have a reasonably good thing going with Anke but there are some things about her I don't particularly like. One of them is her attention to Petra, it hasn't gotten to the stage where I can step in, she knows the boundaries but I know if I turned my back for too long or did something to upset the balance, she might draw closer to Petra."
"Which could be risky."
"Precisely," she leaned forward and put her hand on the bed and swung her feet off the bed, "you know what I like about you?"
"Well it's not my dazzling personality," I grimaced.
"Don't put yourself down," she replied, "you've managed to turn my daughter's head without buying her a diamond ring or whizzing her off to an expensive hotel, but it's your honesty that has really caught my attention. I work in an industry of liars, we lie for entertainment purposes and get paid lots of money for it but we also lie off camera, play up our part, try to put down someone else and in general try to maintain the illusion."
"What is it?"
"Your honesty. It's so fucking refreshing to hear honesty. You have no hidden agenda, no way of competing with me and so you just come out with honesty, it floors me. I find myself drawn to you not in a sexual way but wanting to just sit and listen to you talk."
I half laughed and then stopped as she sat on the edge of the bed and arched her back. A moment or two later she stood up and padded across to the sink. I stared at the floor, trying to see if there were drawing pins or anything sharp because she was wearing stockings. She poured herself a glass of water and putting her back to the sink, drank half the glass.
"I love Scottish water. It's so refreshing to just pour a glass from a tap instead of a jug."
She took another mouthful and returned to the bed. I sat up as she perched on the edge of the bed and studied me.
"What are you planning to do for the next two or three days?"
"Work, you and Petra, and I assume Anke are going over to Lewis, she'll be back the day after tomorrow and we'll continue the lessons as planned."
"I've got a proposal for you."
"We've been here before."
"That we have," she smiled crookedly, "how'd you like to come over to Lewis with Petra and I for a few days?"
"A few," I stopped, "I'd like that but Gordon needs me here."
"I could arrange it, trust me I'm an actress it's what I do best."
"How?"
"I will need someone to look at a horse and while that takes a few hours, let's just say that I decided to take him through his paces, maybe I'm not sure if it's the right horse. Maybe there are other horses on the farm that caught my eye but you'd be there for two days and two nights. I pay for everything, including your wages and seeing as I've come to an agreement with the owner of McLeod Estate as of yesterday, I'll be your new neighbour and if I buy this horse I'll need to keep the horse here," she smiled, "which is where you come in."
"And what about Anke?"
"She'll be in London meeting with associates of mine, don't worry about Anke, she's out of the way for two days and two nights but you have time with Petra."
"You want me to what? Seduce your daughter?"
"No, I want you to get to know Petra, personally. I know two days is short but in that time you'll be able to come to your own conclusions about her and if she comes onto you and you're comfortable, don't hold back. She's an attractive woman, I've seen the way you look at her. I've looked at other women the same way."
My first thought was 'what the fuck?' My second thought was, 'this can't be happening.' My third thought was vocalised.
"You're asking me to get up close and personal with your daughter. She's got a mind of her own and yes, I like her, a lot. Would I have gone all the way in the wardrobe room? Probably not in that room but certainly some place we couldn't be disturbed but right now I find myself in a world I don't understand. I don't fit into your world, look at me," I indicated myself.
"I stink of horse shite and spend my days riding horses. My wardrobe, before today, was a bloody disaster, I made Bridget Jones look glamorous."
For a moment I thought I'd gone too far and then Fatima burst out laughing.
"You don't fit into my world?" Fatima reached out and put her hand on my face.
"I don't fit into my world. You see me at press conferences or at those tiresome red carpet balls looking pensive. I'm looking at some of these plastic people and thinking I don't belong here. I should be at home curled up with a good book or chilling out. I listen to them drone on and on about their latest project and I wish to fuck they'd shut up and leave me alone."
She dropped her hand.
