An Elegant Seduction Pt. 04

Petra had one hand hooked behind my bra, preparing to undo it, her other hand was on my cheek, I had my hands down her panties and my index finger had reached the second digit. The doorknob turned and we heard a light knock. A moment later we pushed apart and I had enough presence of mind to grab her belt and tie it in a rough knot. The door cracked open and I spun around and started flicking through the garments as Fatima stepped inside.

"Found anything you like?"

"Maybe," I pulled out an off white blouse.

"Wrong size," Fatima moved up next to me and danced her fingers two garments down to a larger size, "this is your size," she pulled it out and turned me so my back was to Petra. Before I could stop her she was undoing my blouse.

"Don't mind me, it's an acting thing," she smirked as she reached the waistband of my jeans and undid the button. She pulled the zipper down and undid the last button. I was frozen to the spot because I knew exactly what was going to happen next. She'd part the blouse and see the bite mark on my shoulder, I knew Petra had broken the skin because it felt sore.

Sure enough she yanked the blouse over my shoulders and her eyes moved to the bite mark, a playful smile nudged her lips.

"My, my, the midges must be getting bigger," she looked past me at her daughter, "you must have to sleep with a baseball bat around here."

She undid my cuffs and removed the blouse.

"Okay," she handed me the blouse, "put that on."

I put the blouse on. It was one of those old fashioned ones with the notched collar, I've seen old '50s pictures of women wearing them with the collar over the jacket. This one was particularly daring because it only fastened to just above my cleavage. Fatima tucked it in and fastening my jeans, gave me the once over and turned me around slowly.

"What do you think, Petra? Is this woman hot or is she hot?"

Petra's expression was impossible to read, it was like she was carved from stone. Fatima pinched my buttocks sharply, causing me to move forward but her left hand snaked around to prevent me from getting away. She pushed more of the material down the front of my jeans, pushing the material against my breasts.

"Would you fuck this woman?" Fatima asked her daughter.

Petra's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yeah, I'd fuck her."

"So would I," Fatima released me and stepped around me to look me up and down, "breasts are what men look at first. It's hard wired into their tiny little brains. Can these breasts feed my children?"

"I'm not into men."

"Neither am I, but I still like a well dressed woman, it shows that she has some self respect," she glanced at the rack.

"All right, let's get to work," she spun about and started walking quickly down the aisle, "I'm the makeover queen and today is your lucky day," she started plucking garments from the racks, "get upstairs and bring that pleated skirt down here because I've got just the right blouse for it," she poked Petra's belly.

"Don't just stand there like a stunned mullet, time is money and you're wasting it."

I left the room with my head in a whirl. Any sense of arousal had vanished by the time I got upstairs and fetched the skirt and belt. I thought of texting Fiona but what was the use of that? Hey, Petra just let me finger her. It was something I might have done as a teenager, I probably did but I was twenty eight years old and I knew that Fatima had a pretty good idea of what we'd been up to a few minutes ago.

By the time I got downstairs the atmosphere had changed dramatically. The smouldering sexuality and unbridled lust was gone as if some spirit had just been exorcised. Petra was actually sweet and agreeable, carrying garments over to a temporary dressing room made of metal poles and black cloth. Mother and daughter seemed very much to be working as a team instead of at opposite poles of the spectrum and I handed the skirt over to Fatima as she hung the garments she'd collected earlier from an empty running rail.

The next two hours were truly bizarre. Don't get me wrong, I like stylish clothes as much as the next woman, although I'm not as much a fashionista as Shannon but having two beautiful women fussing around me felt surreal. It was like stepping into another dimension where up was down and black was white. Fatima was the voluble one constantly issuing instructions to her quiet and dutiful younger assistant. In the end the pile of clothes was enough to fill an entire suitcase and while I changed back into my old clothes, Petra fetched a suitcase from another room.

I did try to talk her out of it once again but Fatima was adamant.

"I have a wardrobe budget but because I came in well under budget I topped it up with clothes that don't even fit the period. Don't worry about the cost, it's all spoken for and written off in tax," she started packing the case.

"Now, I have to get ready for this trip tomorrow and Petra will be helping me," she glanced at her daughter, "you can either hang around here or go back home."

"I um, I think I'll go home, thank you for the clothes."

"You're welcome," she smiled at me, "now then, will you see your friend out to her car while I go to the toilet?"

Petra walked me out the car but nothing was said about our passionate snogging session a couple of hours earlier. Indeed her farewell hug was very formal and somewhat stiff.

"I'll see you tomorrow or the day after," she kissed my cheek, "thank you for looking after me last night."

"No bother," I replied.

I drove back to Burnside Estate with my head in a complete muddle. Petra's behaviour seemed erratic and I reasoned to at least tell Fiona some things at least because I needed answers and so far all I had was a woman who went from hot to cold, a mother who knew damn well what had gone on but hadn't said anything about it, and a suitcase full of clothes.

My eyes shifted as Gordon stepped into view with our local blacksmith, John Black, I'm not joking it's his real name. He saw me and changed direction, I wound down my window and he noticed the suitcase on the back seat.

"Going on holiday?"

"Em no, Fatima gave me new clothes."

"Oh right," he smiled, "looks like the day for new things. John is here to put new shoes on three of our horses. Would you like to give me a hand or are you still taking the day off?"

"I'll help," I opened the door all too eagerly, "just let me get this case inside."

I actually felt relieved at the thought of holding a horse steady while a blacksmith hammered shoes on. A lot of the men I know and work with at the Estate are uncomplicated people, they take you as you are and don't come to snap judgements about you. Being with a man is easier in some ways than being with a woman because they're predictable, they're often satisfied with simple answers to complicated questions but women want to know everything about everything.

I was so into the afternoon activities that I totally forgot about Fatima and Petra, the clothes were still in the suitcase and I was in my element. We cleaned out the stables and brushed down the horses. Our conversations were on trivial matters, nothing controversial. Gordon is a nice older man, he reminds me of my stepdad in some ways because he can listen to me without interrupting. On days like today when I just took a day off and ended up working the afternoon anyway he takes it in his stride, any other employer would have been wanting answers.

I didn't notice Fatima standing there until Gordon nudged me. I was brushing down the horse I usually ride when she stepped into the stables.

Fatima had changed out of the clothes she'd had on this morning and into a white, short-sleeved shirt tucked into a red leather skirt fastened with silver press studs up the front. A pair of burgundy suede ankle boots completed the outfit. Her hair had been styled since this morning but it was the look in her eyes that took my breath away.

She actually looked sheepish, almost like a teenager as she fixed her eyes on me and smiled. The illusion was shattered however when she spoke.

"I've got some lingerie in the car, it was going to a charity bin but I thought you might like to take a look, so I took a small detour," she spoke quietly.

"Lingerie, eh?" Gordon looked at her for a moment and then squirted me with the hose, "go on, and remember to close the curtains. I'd hate our guests to think you were putting on a free show."

I followed Fatima to the car and she glanced once over her shoulder but said nothing until we got to the car.

"Look if you don't want them I understand, some people are funny about it but once it goes into the charity bin they'll just turn my knickers into dusters."

"A shame, lots of people just wash their knickers and wear them again."

"There is that and all," she opened the door and took out a rather large Argos bag, "here, take that and show me where you live."

"Over there," I pointed, "just beside the stables.

"Lead the way," she slung her handbag over her shoulder, "while you sort through it I can explain my actions today."

She looked up as we started walking.

"Petra doesn't know I'm dropping in on you like this, I thought it was better for her and at least you and I can get to know each other a bit better."

"All right," I nodded but as I led her to my bedsit and opened the door for her I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The last time I felt this way was the night a supposedly straight Christian counsellor, Erin invited me up to her flat and then proceeded to seduce me.

To be continued...