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  • An Elegant Seduction Pt. 02

An Elegant Seduction Pt. 02

12

In part one Lynne Mathiesson is hired by the actress, Fatima to teach her daughter how to ride a horse in preparation for a role in Fatima's new movie. When Fatima discovers Lynne's sexual orientation she asks Lynne to help with Petra's character development to help prepare her for the role of a lesbian in World War Two Britain. Tonight Lynne has been invited to dinner and spend time with Petra alone, to talk about her attraction to women.

I've lived in Balloch for just over five years and in that time I have come to know the place intimately, the people, the town, the history but because of the nature of my work the landscape has had an abiding influence on me. I supervise trail rides along the side of Loch Lomond and into the hills, I can read the weather like a book and know when to push on and when to turn back. I'm familiar with the country homes dotted throughout the region, thanks to the Rambling law that permits us to go almost anywhere. But one house was still out of bounds. The McLeod house, owned by a wealthy American businessman who visits his Scottish estate once a year.

To call it an estate is laughable, we call it the big hoose, because it truly is just a big house with a large garden. Perhaps John McLeod was conscious of the disparity between truth and fantasy when he nailed up the sign declaring it to be McLeod Estate. There was a motion put forward by certain people to force him to rename the property but it never went anywhere, especially not here. Most of the locals couldn't really care what he called it as long as he didn't cause any trouble.

The house is shuttered most of the year but a cleaning company does come through once a month to dust and clean. I was going out with a woman employed by the company once and she said it was the most beautiful waste of space she'd seen in years.

"He's gone the full monty inside," Sharon informed me, "but it always smells of mould."

I had that image in mind when I knocked at the door that night. Because the wind was blowing hard across the loch, I'd donned a light jacket over the blue prom dress. The place was well lit but very quiet, I suppose I was expecting a tumult of noise emanating from inside. Instead there was the dry click of a door latch and I found myself looking at a blonde woman in black trousers and a white shirt. She had long blonde hair and her features suggested she might be northern European. Her accented English more or less confirmed that as she greeted me a moment later.

"Hey, you must be Lynne."

It was a question as much as a statement and I nodded.

"Please, come in, welcome," she opened the door wider and stepped aside, "I am Anke, Fatima's personal assistant."

When I stepped inside I smelled the aroma of cooking meat and spices and Anke led me through to the kitchen. McLeod must have had some kind of obsession with medieval weaponry and heraldry because he had swords, halberds, spears and shields hanging from the walls and at the very end of the corridor a suit of armour on a plinth. The last time I saw this much weaponry was at Edinburgh castle.

The kitchen had an arched ceiling and a massive open fire that must have been used as a cooking fire back in the day but modernisation was also clearly evident in the island bench, wall-mounted ovens and the large hob that must have been six feet long. The lighting came from electric candelabras and I came to a halt when Fatima turned around, she had a wooden spoon in one hand and a phone in the other.

"Yes, we're further forward on that as well. I have a woman taking care of that and with that I have to love you and leave you, darling. My guest has just arrived... no problem, I'll call you tomorrow, enjoy the show, ciao," she ended the call and ran an eye over me, "you look nice tonight, I like the dress," her eyes travelled down to my shoes, "Kurt Geiger as well, nicely chosen."

"They're the only decent heels I own."

Fatima burst out laughing and swept her hair over her ear.

"You know what I like most about you?"

"I don't know."

"Your honesty," she went on, "it's so refreshing. My ex husband is a serial liar, both in Parliament and when he was shackled to me, so when I encounter real honesty I'm always drawn to it," she rounded the bench and came to a stop in front of me.

"Can you tell Petra dinner is almost ready, Anke?"

"Sure," Anke left the room.

When we were alone she reached out and ran her fingers through my hair, my pulse quickened ever so slightly, there was a slight suggestiveness to her gesture as she nudged my face to one side. I had no idea what to expect. Was she actually checking me out? She was wearing a cream-coloured blouse tucked into designer jeans complete with designer holes in the knees. The scent of Chanel No. 5 tantalised my nostrils. I felt frozen to the spot. The woman I had fantasized about in my youth was actually checking me out, if she'd unzipped my dress I don't think I could have resisted and who would resist her?

"You have a nice profile and an honest face. You're not so much a classic beauty as an earthy beauty. Have you ever had any acting experience?"

"Me? No, just a school play once."

"What play?"

"A nativity play, I was one of the shepherds, I was only seven years old."

"How'd you like to come on board as an extra?"

My eyes widened and she took a half step back and smiled crookedly.

"It'd most likely be a walk on walk off part, but it pays. A few hundred pounds a day."

"I'll think about it," I finally managed, "I'd need to know more though."

"We'll talk over dinner," she glanced up at the ceiling, "Petra wants some one on one time with you, so I've set up two cameras in an upstairs room. I just wanted to warn you in case you freak out over the cameras and lights."

"I'll be fine, I'm sure."

"I'm sure you will, let's consider this your unofficial audition, although the part I have in mind for you doesn't have any dialogue but I'm up for anything you can bring," she took a step back and hooked a thumb over the buckle of her belt.

Footfalls and voices broke the silence between us and Petra stepped into the room followed by Anke. She was wearing a white shirt tucked into a black leather mini skirt with a zip all the way up the front, her leather boots were also black and stopped a few inches above her knee.

"Hello again," she smiled at me, "wow, the swan has spread her wings, you look beautiful."

"So do you," I replied.

"How about you two go to the lounge room, I'll call you when dinner is served," Fatima nodded at the door.

"I'll show you my sword skills," Petra stepped forward and grabbed my hand.

"Watch it with the swords," her mother warned her, "they don't come with the house."

"I'll be careful, mum, cross my heart and hope to die."

"What's she mean by that?" I asked her a few minutes later as she lifted a sword from a rack on the wall, she turned and squinted down the blade.

"She's put in an offer to buy the place, but that's a secret, well sort of," she motioned to me, "take a seat and I'll show you what I learned from my instructor," she took up her stance.

"Vampire Queen," she glanced at me, "I was one of the vampire warriors and we had to shoot this scene in an old chalet," she stepped forward and slashed at thin air, "it took three days of solid training for five minutes of battle. By the end of the three days I could barely raise a fork to my mouth," she spun around and speared an imaginary foe.

"We have the basic movements, advance, retreat, fade, empty fade, diagonal, which is obvious and about turn or pirouette," she reeled off the terms and proceeded to demonstrate them. It struck me as I watched her move that if she could spend three days perfecting these movements for so little work, how much time would she need for a starring role that required her to become a believable lesbian for a discerning audience? And how was someone like me expected to give her more than the most basic pointers?

It was something that had been nagging at me ever since the verbal agreement between Fatima and I a week ago. What was I supposed to do? Wave a magic wand? Give her a blow by blow description of lesbians? That alone would take countless hours, we're all basically human, we come in all shapes, types and mindsets. The clue was dropped by Fatima over a dinner of Beef Stroganoff a little later when I blandly asked what it was like being an actress.

"Acting in its purest form is empathy," she put her wine down.

"When I was a few years older than Petra I was asked to play the role of a murderer. My character kills convicted rapists after they're released from prison, but later on she gets to like it and goes after men who she thinks might become rapists. It was a totally alien role for me and I was freaking out," she swallowed a mouth full of stew.

"Fortunately for all of us, the director had assigned each of us research projects. I was taken into prisons to spend time with murderers and it was a real eye opener in more ways than one. The prisoners were all pre selected but it was my job to sit down and ask questions. Why did they do it? What motivated them? Would they have made the same choices again? Only two men and one woman were actually serial killers but I came out of that not so much with sympathy for them. They were killers, some were unrepentant but I understood what it would take for my character to perform these murders. In order to play a part convincingly you need to understand the mindset of your character. Do your research and you play a convincing role, but fall back on stereotypes and you'll be slated for it."

She took another sip of wine.

"Petra's job is to play an upper class woman with lesbian tendencies and to do that right she needs to know how you think. She'll take something out of what you've been through and add it to the witch's brew she's concocting inside that head of hers and hopefully come out with something that translates well to film."

It was good advice, I took it to heart later on as we made our way upstairs to a room set aside for interviews. It had two cameras perpendicular to each other, a rack of lights and two wide L-shaped couches with a long coffee table in the middle. I took a seat while she turned on the cameras.

"This is interview one with Lynne Mathiesson, the fourth of March, two thousand and sixteen," she fluffed out her hair.

"An interview is just a conversation between two people. No one but my mother and I will see this interview so anything you say is in strictest confidence," she nodded at the carafe of wine and two wineglasses on the table.

"So, let's begin with the basics," she smiled.

"When were you born?"

"I was born in 1987."

"Here or elsewhere?"

"Stirling Royal Infirmary," I replied.

"Was your father present at the birth?"

"No," I admitted, "I never knew my father. He was with the American air force, he was married and my mother was his mistress," I felt the colour in my cheeks.

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"One sister," I replied, "Elspeth or Elsie as she likes to be called."

"Also from the same father?"

"My stepfather," I replied, "mum got involved with another man when I was four, she told me later that she knew my father would never leave his wife for her but sometimes you labour on under false pretences," I leaned forward to pour myself a wine.

"What is it they say? Women love too much?"

"I think there's a book by that name," she too leaned forward and I poured a wine for her, "so, getting to the heart of the matter. When did you first become attracted to women?"

Now that was a hard question because I couldn't nail down a particular year or even a person who caught my eye. I was a tomboy even as a kid, my sister wanted dolls but I wanted my own pony or an archery set and I mentioned that as well.

"But as to when I first became attracted to women? High school is the only thing I can think of, I used to gravitate towards older girls, a year older than me for the most part."

"Sexually perhaps?"

"No," I frowned. "I was the only child for nearly five years and then Elsie came along but mum and Ritchie didn't instantly move in and set up house. He was separated at the time but he worked on the rigs and when he came home he would stay over for a few nights, but then he'd go to his sister's house because he had joint custody of the children from the first marriage. So for the better part of three years after Elsie was born I used to help mum look after her."

"Interesting," she crossed her legs, "were you trying to grow up faster?"

"I don't know about faster, I certainly developed physically much more quickly but I was very active in sports and outdoor activities. I think I just associated older girls with maturity, they looked after me, some for selfish reasons because it made them look more popular but others were actually looking after me. I fought a few battles in the first year of high school but then one day an older girl walked past in the street when I was facing down four girls threatening to rub dog shite in my hair. She grabbed the biggest girl and shoved her face against a wall and told her to fuck off or she'd bash her brains in."

I closed my eyes as the memory came back.

"Her name was Diana and she was the first girl I ever had a crush on," I opened my eyes and looked past her.

"She walked me all the way home and it was the first time I can recall someone more or less my age actually listening to me. I mean she asked a few questions but most of the time she was really into whatever I was saying, we got to my place and she told me to sit with her in the lunch room the next day if I wanted."

"And did you?"

"Aye, I did and it wasn't the first time but she also introduced me to her friends and that was probably what awakened my desires."

"Did you and Diana ever sleep together?"

"No," I smiled, "Diana was and still is straight as a die. I knew that then but in my fantasies when I started experimenting with masturbation she often came to mind."

"So who was the first girl you kissed?"

"Claire," I managed a crooked grin, "I was sixteen and by that time I'd well and truly filled out. I'd attracted the attention of a few boys too but I was never into boys."

"Why not?"

"I guess it was the usual schoolboy mentality. They played up to you and then humiliated you, they singled out geek kids and beat them up. Trying to get a decent conversation about anything that didn't involve football, cars or sex was like pulling teeth, but if they thought they might be able to swing a leg over then they'd put on this act."

"In short they were shallow?"

"Shallow is the word of the day."

"So, Claire, what happened?"

What did happen that day? I studied the wine in my hand. It was the middle of winter and we'd just broken up for the Christmas period.

"Her mum had gone shopping and when we got home there was no one home so I stayed because she didn't want to be alone. Mum was fine about that though, I'd been having sleepovers with girls for years."

I drained the wine and leaning forward, fingered the neck of the carafe, I was brought out of my reverie by a touch on the hand.

"Hey," Petra caught my eye, "if you don't want to talk about it I understand completely, I may be younger and sometimes I can be a bit too forward but I understand pain, I've seen and experienced some very painful things."

"It's not painful to be honest," I grasped the carafe and poured another measure of wine.

"It's more embarrassing than anything. Here we were, two girls in school uniform trying to have sex but both unsure of what we were supposed to be doing or even if we were doing it right. It started with just touching and stroking but ultimately it just amounted to mutual masturbation. We never even got half naked, just rubbed each other through our knickers."

"Oh," she smiled, "well that at least sounds pleasant."

"It was, for me at least. Claire felt a little strange about but a few days later when we tried it again, or rather when I rubbed her through her jeans she slapped my hand away, which kind of killed the whole romance thing and taught me a valuable lesson."

"Which is?"

"Don't fuck your friends."

"I can agree with that," she leaned back and put her feet on the coffee table, "from personal and painful experience."

I merely nodded as I too settled back.

"So, after Claire, who was the first girl or woman you actually had sex with?"

"Celine," I smirked.

"Dion?" Petra's eyes widened, "oh wow, this just gets better," she patted her breasts, "do go on."

"Celine was a French Canadian girl, she had the most exotic accent and when one of my friends told me she was gay I befriended her."

"Go on," she smiled.

"She didn't know anything about what had gone on between me and Claire, the poor girl hadn't dared tell anyone else what we'd done with each other. I knew my secret was safe and so I let Celine seduce me."

Petra shifted a little when she heard this.

"In hindsight I can honestly say it was an Oscar winning performance, I mean I played innocent, I found out what bands and singers she liked and I liked them too, even though I thought Country music was fucked but it worked. She seduced me."

"How?"

"A game of cards," I sipped my wine, "or to be exact, strip poker. I kind of suggested it when we were at her place one night and then pretended to be all coy about it when she started dealing the cards. Then I just played cards and I purposely threw three hands and pleaded ignorance of the game, which was shite because I'd watched my stepdad play poker with my sister for sweeties, but when I was down to my knickers she still had her skirt and bra on. She kissed me and I let her have her wicked way with me," I drained the wine.

"An Oscar winning performance indeed," Petra chuckled, "God, I must remember that one, I'm so glad we're sitting talking about this, I've got scenes in my head that can be rewritten but I just didn't know how to rework them."

"So I've been of some use?"

"Oh for sure," she eyed me, "so, what happened to Celine?"

"Celine," I winced, "ah that is a story without a Hollywood ending. She was a year older than me and while I was in my last year at Alva Academy, she was in Europe on her gap year. She met a South African woman at a bar in Germany and moved to Johannesburg with her."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I shrugged. "It was probably the best thing that could have happened."

"Why?"

"Before that I was in the closet but Celine was very much out there, so naturally I was tagged with the lesbian label and when she left I became the only out and proud lesbian in school. I soon learned the difference between curious girls and girls who wanted to affirm their sexual identity. I learned a lot about me in that last year, so losing Celine wasn't as bad as I first thought."

Because of the unfamiliar setting and perhaps a desire to earnestly help Petra prepare for her role I found myself opening up more and telling her things I'd only told a select few people. The last year was monumental. I was struggling with getting a good pass mark and besieged by girls wanting to know more about lesbianism in general and in particular the 'pink bits.' What actually happened between women? What did it feel like? Some were obviously playing up to me and not for romantic purposes, some were just taking the piss. I was sexually active but no more than other kids at school who were also experimenting with sex. It's something kids do in school, your bodies are developing along with some sense of sexuality. However my romantic trysts were weighted against the goal of getting good grades in my last year. To be honest there were girls I could have gone out with if I'd just been able to devote more time them and it wasn't until I got to university that my sex life really took off in a big way.

12
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