An Actress Prepares

When Matthew first moved to London, he rented the garden flat below the house of a middle-aged actress. ‘Garden flat’, for those of you who are not familiar with London estate agent speak, is another way of saying ‘basement’.

Matthew’s garden flat consisted of a small entrance space and three-and-a-half rooms: a kitchen-cum-living room, a decent-sized bedroom, a bathroom, and what his landlady, Sonia, referred to as ‘the box room’. It was all Matthew needed. Oh, and being the garden flat, it had access to a small walled courtyard, a space just big enough for a small table, two chairs, and a selection of terracotta pots in various states of repair.

‘Do you know anything about gardening?’ Sonia had asked Matthew when she took him on the not-very-grand grand tour.

‘Sort of. Well, a little bit,’ Matthew had told her.

Sonia had nodded. ‘Perhaps when the weather gets a bit warmer we can buy some marigolds or geraniums or whatever. And you can plant them up. I need to keep my hands. Photography. Hand modelling pays surprisingly well.’ And she had held her hands up for Matthew to admire. For a big girl, Sonia’s hands were surprisingly elegant.

Matthew had acquired the guaranteed shorthold lease on the garden flat through his uncle, a minor impresario. ‘Sonia’s a good stick,’ his uncle had said. ‘She’s let herself go a bit of recent years, but then none of us can be twenty-five for ever.’

By ‘let herself go’, Matthew assumed that his uncle meant that she had put on a bit of weight. You didn’t get many Sonias to the pound. But, in addition to her elegant hands, she had a sweet face and beautiful hair. She certainly wasn’t unattractive. She was just … well … chunky.

‘Eddy’ (that was Matthew’s uncle) ‘tells me that you are in the publicity game,’ Sonia said. ‘I’ll give you a few of my cards. You never know. You might come across someone. Always grateful.’ And she tapped the side of her nose.

Matthew had just arrived home after his first few days at Town & Crier when Sonia came knocking on his door. ‘I’m going on tour,’ she said, with all the authority of a duchess. ‘The old rep. A week at Scarborough. Back by popular demand. A bit short notice. But good to get out to the provinces from time to time. Tread the boards. They like the classics up North. Anyway … I need a favour. Horace. I need you to feed him. It’s pretty simple. He eats those dried biscuity things. Mainly. And you need to make sure that he has plenty of water. I take it that you are going to be here.’

‘Umm … yes,’ Matthew said. ‘Yes. I can do that.’

‘And he might want to talk to you,’ Sonia said.

‘Talk to me?’

‘Yes. Horace likes a chat.’

‘OK,’ Matthew said.

Sonia nodded. ‘If you want to come upstairs with me now, I’ll show you where everything is.’

‘OK,’ Matthew said. And he followed Sonia upstairs and into her kitchen.

‘Bowls. Food. Water,’ Sonia said. ‘Oh, and right on cue, here’s Horace. Horace, this is Matthew. He’s our new downstairs neighbour, and he’s going to be your quartermaster for the next few days.’

It’s often said that dogs grow to look like their owners. Or vice versa. But, in this case, it was Sonia and her cat. Horace was unquestionably a good-looking fellow. But you didn’t get many Horaces to the pound. He and Sonia were made for each other.

‘I’ll feed him before I leave in the morning,’ Sonia said, ‘but if you could feed him tomorrow evening. And, the god of the trains willing, I shall be back in time to feed him next Friday evening.’

Matthew and Horace got along just fine. And Sonia was right: Horace did like a bit of a chat. Not that Matthew had any idea of what Horace was saying. And then it was Friday.

On Friday night, Matthew went to the pub with a few of the girls and boys from Town & Crier and didn’t get home until after nine. But there were lights on upstairs, so he assumed that the god of trains had cooperated and Sonia was once again ‘in residence’. Matthew wondered briefly if he should return her key, but then he decided to leave that until the following morning.

The days were getting longer and, when Matthew woke the following morning, the sun was already bouncing off the courtyard walls and into Matthew’s bedroom. ‘Oh, damn!’ he said to himself. ‘I’ve overslept.’ But, of course, he hadn’t. It was Saturday. He could stay in bed all day if he wanted to. But, once he was awake, he needed to pee. And then, once he was out of bed, he needed coffee. And then … oh, well.

By nine-thirty, Matthew was showered, shaved, and coffee’d, and ready to face the day. But first he should return Sonia’s key.

When Sonia answered the door, she was wearing a loose-fitting something that looked like a cross between a nightgown and a cocktail frock. It was pink. Knee length. With spaghetti shoulder straps. And soft pleats. And Sonia she looked as if she had not long woken up. ‘Oh … hello,’ she said. ‘Come on in.’

‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ve just brought your key.’

‘My key? Oh. Yes. What time is it?’

‘Just gone nine-thirty.’

‘Oh. Gosh. Nine thirty. No wonder Horace is complaining. Perhaps if you could just get him some breakfast. I need to go and tinkle.’

Matthew filled Horace’s food bowl, tipped out what was left of his water, and refilled the water bowl, and then Sonia was back.

‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘So … how did you two get on?’

‘Fine — I think,’ Matthew said.

Sonia nodded. ‘Yes. I thought that you might. Coffee?’ she said. And, without waiting for a reply, she took two mugs from one of the kitchen cupboards and placed them beside the kettle. ‘It’s nice to see some sunshine,’ she said. ‘It rained the whole time we were up north. No wonder it always looks so green up there.’

‘Did it go well?’

‘Umm … yes — apart from the weather. It’s nice to be back on the boards. Performing. The curtain goes up … and you’re on. The curtain comes down … and you’re off. I quite like that. With film and TV, you spend ninety percent of your time just sitting around, standing around, waiting.’

Matthew still couldn’t decide what Sonia was wearing. It probably wasn’t a night dress. It certainly didn’t look as though she had slept in it. It looked as if it had come straight off a coat hanger. And it definitely didn’t look like something you would wear in the street. It covered her, but only barely. And when she bent over … well, take your pick. When she bent down to get something from one of the lower cupboards, Matthew had a splendid view of the backs of her substantial and shapely thighs, and almost beyond. And when she reached across the table, Matthew had a perfect view down inside the scooped neckline, across her rounded breasts and all the way down to her rounded belly. She might just as well have not been wearing anything.

‘What time is it?’ Sonia asked.

‘Umm … still just gone past nine-thirty. Well … perhaps a little closer to nine forty-five.’

Sonia nodded. ‘I have a casting call at midday,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t let me forget.’

‘Right,’ Matthew said — although he wasn’t quite sure what it had to do with him.

‘I’m not sure what I should wear,’ Sonia said. ‘Perhaps once we’ve had our coffee, you can come and give me a hand. Help me choose something. First impressions are lasting impressions.’

Sonia finished making the coffee and handed one of the mugs across the table to Matthew. And there it was again: the more or less unobstructed view down the front of whatever the garment was that Sonia was wearing.

‘Eddy — your uncle — tells me that you are a bit of a thespian,’ she said.

‘Oh, not really,’ Matthew said. ‘I did a bit at school. And then, when I was at uni, I was in a couple of Gilbert and Sullivan things. Just in the chorus. Nothing major.’

Sonia looked Matthew up and down. ‘You should put your name down with one of the agencies,’ she said. ‘A good-looking chap like you. You might get a bit of TV work. You never know.’

Matthew just smiled.

‘And what did you and Horace chat about?’ Sonia asked.

‘Horace? Oh … Horace. I’m not sure,’ Matthew said.

‘But you did chat?’

‘Oh, yes. We chatted. I’m just not sure what about.’

Sonia nodded and took a long draught of her coffee. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Now, we need to decide what I’m going to wear.’ And she beckoned Matthew to follow her upstairs and into a room that was filled with racks of clothes.

‘It’s a production of … well … an adult nature,’ she said. ‘The part that I’m up for — or at least I hope I’m up for — is the mother.’

‘The mother?’

‘Yes. What sort of a mum do your think I should be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Matthew said.

‘I don’t think that I should be too mumsy. I think I need to be at least a little bit sexy or why would the son desire me?’

‘The son?’

‘Yes. You’re a son. What sort of mum would you desire?’

Matthew laughed nervously. ‘Well, not my own, obviously.’

‘But that’s just the point,’ Sonia said. ‘It is his own mum.’

‘And does he …?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Sonia said. ‘Not immediately, of course. There’s quite a bit of teasing before they actually get down to it. Before they actually hide the sausage. Although I’m assuming that the actual hiding of the sausage will be suggested rather than depicted. Although with some of these directors, you never can tell.’

‘Is it the mum who is doing the teasing?’

‘Well … once she realises that he’s … that he has desires … she sort of eggs him on a bit. Not too blatantly. This is not a wham bam production. But … yes. So I suppose I need to be at least a bit provocative. Let’s see.’ And Sonia pushed the spaghetti shoulder straps of her whatever it was garment she was wearing off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Matthew didn’t know where to look. So he tried to act as if looking at middle-aged women wearing nothing but a smile was something that he did every day.

The funny thing was, without her clothes, Sonia looked at least as good as she did with her clothes. She was ample rather than fat. Her breasts were large, but not overly large. And they were very nicely shaped. And, as Matthew had earlier observed, she had a bit of a tummy. But it too was nicely shaped. Firm not saggy. Her hips and thighs were also nicely shaped. And just above the point where her thighs converged she had the most delightful patch of blonde snatch thatch. Yes, Matthew could see why she might be up for a part in an adult production.

‘Now … a bra,’ Sonia said. ‘Some actresses like to start with shoes. Get the shoes right, they say, and everything else falls into place. But I like to start with a bra. The key to my wardrobe, you might say.’ And she took a breast in each hand and ‘weighed’ them. ‘What do you think? Something reasonably plain? Something that might have come from Marks and Sparks?’

Matthew wasn’t quite sure what to think. He was still recovering from the surprise of a totally naked Sonia.

‘Yes. Perhaps this one.’ And from a selection of perhaps 20 bras, she selected a white bra with lace panels; plain, but not too plain.

Matthew watched as she donned ‘the key to her wardrobe’, leaning forward so that her large (but not overly large) breasts ‘fell’ into the white lace cups. ‘Yes?’ she said, looking to Matthew for confirmation of her choice.

Matthew nodded.

‘And some knickers. I did wonder about simply going commando. But then I thought that knickers might present a bit of opportunity in the lead up to the … umm … denouement. I thought perhaps my character could surreptitiously remove her knickers and leave them somewhere for her son to find them. I think that some men like to … umm … jerk off into the knickers of a close female family member, don’t they? At this stage, it’s not in the script, but I thought it might be a nice little addition.

‘I’m not thinking granny pants. But I don’t think a thong would be quite right either. Boy shorts? Hmm … perhaps. Or perhaps something silky.’ After considering several options, Sonia chose a pair of silky white hipster-style knickers with a lace panel at the front. More than respectable, but still rather sexy.

‘And so to the next layer,’ Sonia said. ‘I don’t think trousers are right. I think it would be a pity to conceal my calves.’

Matthew had been so distracted by Sonia’s other attributes that he hadn’t really paid attention to Sonia’s calves. But, yes, they were certainly worth showing off. Or, at least, it would be a pity to conceal them.

‘Which leaves us with deciding between a dress of some sort, and a skirt and top. Any thoughts?’

‘Umm ….’

‘A skirt and top gives an extra disrobing opportunity,’ Sonia said. ‘But perhaps a dress is more mumsy. Perhaps a button front dress. I can start with it buttoned and work my way towards … well. What do you think?’ And she took a pink and blue floral dress from one of the racks.

Matthew nodded. He was starting to get the hell of this dressing thing.

Sonia put on the dress, selected a pair of high-heeled pale-blue strappy sandals, and gave Matthew ‘a twirl’. ‘What do you think? Would you want to fuck me?’ Sonia asked.

‘In a heartbeat,’ Matthew’s brain said. But he nodded and said: ‘It’s very clever, isn’t it? The way you put all the pieces together. The way you … build the character.’

Sonia smiled appreciatively. And then she undressed again. Slowly. Provocatively. Carefully laying out the selected garments. ‘What time is it?’ she asked when she was once again buck naked.

Matthew looked at his watch. ‘Ten-fifteen.’

Sonia nodded. ‘Good. We have time then,’ she said. ‘And I assume you have a stiffy? At least … I hope that you have a stiffy.’

‘Umm … I do,’ Matthew confessed.

Sonia smiled. ‘Well, we could do it here,’ she said. ‘On the divan. Or we could go through to the bedroom. Up to you.’

Matthew hesitated.

‘Just think of it as helping me with my preparation,’ Sonia said. ‘Just think of it as helping me to get into character.’