Lisa and Polly Ch. 03

Polly put her knickers back on and a night shirt and went to bed. She couldn't sleep, her mind was back to the night before. She ran through it in her mind over and over until one detail kept coming back to her: She had interrupted and so he had gagged her with her own daughter's knickers. He hadn't even stopped fucking her as he did it.

"Now I'm the kind of girl who gets gagged if she speaks without being spoken to," Polly said to darkness of the room, under her breath, but out loud so she couldn't deny it.

She reached down and peeled her knickers down her thighs and kicked them free of her legs. She brought them up and stuffed them in her mouth and closed her eyes and touched herself, letting herself moan through the soft, wet fabric as she came, twice.

She fell asleep thinking... Maybe. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It was just a photo, after all...

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The next day was a Monday, so Polly left early for work and Lisa for college, without saying a word.

That evening, after their third silent meal together, Polly went to the sofa and watched trash whilst working her way through a bottle of red that still bore the £5.99 Londis sticker.

She hadn't been bothered to change out of her work clothes yet. The black skirt and the white blouse. The push up bra under it on the off chance any senior management would walk through the open plan career-dead-end zone full of women like her and realised quite suddenly that they fancied themselves a new executive assistant. They never did.

Lisa had got up from the table after eating and had gone to her room. After about an hour she came down and slumped next to Polly on the sofa, legs tucked under her, playing with her phone. It was a tiny peace offering, of sorts. She was in the white dressing gown again, but this time had red satin pyjamas under it.

Polly watched the telly and drank.

Lisa played on her phone.

Sometimes Lisa would glance up at the programme.

Sometimes Polly would glance down at Lisa's phone, then look away again quickly.

They absolutely didn't catch each other's eyes.

That carried on for no more than a million years or so, right until Polly put the glass down on the coffee table loudly, cleared her throat and said, to the television, "Well I for one am glad how totally not awkward this is."

They looked at each other. Lisa smiled. "Hi mum."

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They watched the programme together for a bit, passing inane commentary. They asked about their days. The conversation tailed off.

It was clear they both needed to say something. Once again it was Polly who got there first.

"That wasn't the first time you two had... talked about me. Was it? Before I walked in on you."

Lisa was temporarily stunned at the abrupt turn. She looked down. "Umm. No."

"Tell me what you say to each other. Please."

"Its... Its just fantasies. He got me started on it. I mean he started them."

"I'm sure," said Polly, soothingly. "What do you say to each other?"

Lisa shifted awkwardly. Yesterday, in the kitchen, when Polly had been so obviously uncomfortable about it all, it had been a game. It had been fun to tease her mother, that was all. Wasn't it? Now, with Polly half way through a bottle of Pino Noir, Lisa didn't feel like she had the advantage any more.

Polly watched Lisa redden and took pity on her. "Look, I get it. Fantasies are just fantasies. We all have ones we wouldn't actually do. I'm just... curious."

Lisa still looked like she would rather be swallowed up by the Earth than repeat what her and him imagined doing to Polly.

Polly tried again, trying to lighten it up. "I mean, when its for a guy it basically doesn't count, does it? You should have heard what one of my boyfriends at school would always want me to say about your aunty Grace."

That got her no further. "OK. Forget that for now, its OK. What did he say yesterday evening, when you sent him your pictures? You were sending him pictures, weren't you?"

"You know what he said. He said he wanted one of us both, our legs."

"Yes but what did he say after that, after you told him he couldn't have it?"

"I... I said you said no. He didn't respond. He still hasn't responded."

"He's probably out somewhere." Or out with someone, Polly thought. "I'm sure he'll respond tomorrow."

"I don't know. He's pretty single minded about art. He says women and art are the same to him, and everything else is just... Background. And, I think for him its like, 'the next thing she's got to do is this; she knows what to do, I can wait'. And so he's just going to wait."

"I'm sure its not that."

"It is. I know it." Lisa turned her body on the sofa so they were facing and looked pleadingly at Polly. "Look, I know what you said. I get it. This is whole thing is weird for me too. Night before last was... a lot. But this is just a photo. Just this time. For the painting."

Polly remembered what he said to her the night before, *You think someone like me finds one girl enough? The both of you, or neither, I'll leave Lisa and won't come back. Your choice.*

She didn't believe him then, she didn't believe it now. It was the look in his eyes, the hint of a grin suppressed. It told her it was a play. A dare. A power game.

A power game she wasn't going to win.

"Maybe..." Polly said, slowly, "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It would be just a photo, after all..."

"What? Really? Seriously?"

"I mean, if he's not going to respond to you until he gets it, if doing the painting means that much to him. If... then, really, we're just buying time." Polly was getting less hesitant and more into her stride now. "I mean, you can hardly talk him out of doing anything more, uhh, intimate with us as his, umm, with the two of us, together, if he isn't even talking to you."

She took a deep breath, "So I think we should do it."

Lisa bounced forward on the sofa and hugged her. "Thank you!" she said, her head pressed tight against Polly's shoulder.

She pulled back, excited. "Can we do it now?"

"Before I sober up, yes. Definitely now."

"OK let me get up the..." Lisa got her phone out of the crack between sofa cushions and fiddled with it for a second. "... Got it. OK. This is going to be so great. He's going to love me for this."

Lisa was already texting him. Polly heard the ping of a message sent and wondered how she'd phrased it. "Just for your satisfaction and titillation, dearest, my mother has lost her mind and agreed to pose naked with me," perhaps. That would about cover it.

"So... We just lie back with out legs kind of entwined, you said?"

Lisa looked a little sheepish, but the excitement didn't leave sheepish much room to work with. "Well, I simplified it slightly. I mean yes, that's it basically. But there's a bit more too it, uh... He sent instructions. Look."

Polly took the phone and read, her eyes going wide as she did.

"We... And then we... And he'll... Oh my God, Lisa!"

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Lisa and Polly's story will be continued in Chapter Four...

Meanwhile, catch up with the sculptor's story in 'The Sculptor: Natalie and Helena'.