Satisfaction Pt. 04: Ch. 14 to 19

Shamina crept in shortly after midnight. She was relieved as she peeked in on her mother to see her deeply asleep.

Sara was already awake when Shamina knocked politely on the door and entered with a freshly brewed coffee.

"Here you go. Shall we talk after we've hydrated?" Shamina nodded at the coffees. They sipped their hot drinks in silence.

"Let me start," Sara started, speaking slowly. She paused as she collected and organized her thoughts. "You know your father and I Skyped regularly. One day he got up and started dancing. He moved the angle of the camera and I could see his bed. There was bra hanging on it. I didn't have to be a brain surgeon to see what that meant. He had a girlfriend. I decided that if he has taken his freedom, I was going to have mine. It's as simple as that. It's been over two years since I was with your Dad. I get horny. I do not like to masturbate. Opportunity presented itself and I took it. Well, you pushed me somewhat, but I was ready to go. That's all of it."

"Oh, Mum. You are so naïve."

"Naïve. What do you mean?"

"Mum. Dad had girlfriends for at least the last six years. Do you remember when I was school, we used to be bussed over to a dance studio around lunchtime. One day I saw Dad as we passed. I looked for him on other days. I then began to realize that I saw the same woman walking a few paces behind every time. It was strange. In the holidays I told you I was going to a friend's house. I met my friend and we went over at lunch hour to where I used to see Dad from the bus. There he was with the trailing woman, who we could now see was tall and quite elegant. We followed them. They cut down a couple of side alleys and then went into the Pink Lotus Hotel. We repeated the tracking three times that week. We did the same the next week and hung around until he came out an hour later. We saw him kiss the woman goodbye. The week after that I only went for one day. Things were nearly the same. Dad walking with the woman following, only this week was a different woman."

Shamina nodded, "Another coffee?" Sara agreed. She was puzzled and wracked her brains as to whether she had detected any clues. A perfume on the dirty washing? She could think of nothing amiss.

When she returned with the fresh coffees, Shamina asked, "You OK?"

"Yep. Just processing what you said. You're sure about what you saw?"

"Oh yea, Mum. It gets worse. Much worse. Buckle up. I am sure Dad continued his nooners, but the bus changed routes, so I didn't see him anymore. Then I learned from one of the girls at school that her unmarried elder sister was pregnant. There was a lot of speculation, and it came out that the girl knew Dad. Then the rumors started. The girl at school became very nasty to me. That was the time that Dad started to talk about being an atheist. Maybe he was, maybe he isn't. I know I saw him talking to the imam several times. Maybe was talking about his faith, the only problem is that the imam was often connected to the Taliban. Anyway, the threats and damage started. The incidents were blamed on the atheist connection, but I recognized the guy who bashed our car as the brother of the woman who was pregnant. Dad invented the atheist angle to cover for the problems he had with the family of the pregnant woman."

"Do you know this for certain?" Sara could not believe what she was being told.

"Yes. The girl at school found out and told me in no uncertain terms. To try to clear Dad I gave them one of dad's toothbrushes. They did a DNA test and it just confirmed that Dad was the father."

"Why didn't you tell me? You should have."

"Mum you were in no state to handle it. Really." Shamina rubbed her mother's hand.

Sara sat up in bed. "We came to Canada under false pretenses. I could go back I guess. We could," she smiled with a sudden note of optimism in her voice.

"No Mum, you're not thinking clearly. The woman died in childbirth and the woman's family blames us all."

Shamina looked grim. "Mom, it gets worse."

"You know I went to South Africa for that holiday. What I didn't tell you was that Dad has a wife there."

"He what?" Sara screamed. "He has a second wife?" She gave a plaintive heavy breath. She had a distant look in her eyes. "No. No. No."

"Mum. OK. All in. There's one other thing you should know. Dad has a baby boy. He's just over one now."

Tears welled in Sara's eyes. The bastard. Two miscarriages and an abortion of a little girl. Sterility. Just for a boy. Oh, my dear God. Sara was wracked with sobs. Shamina held her and cried as well. They cried themselves to sleep together in each other's arms.

Sara was up, showered and dressed before Shamina woke. Sara was surprisingly bright. Sleep had brought resolve and a sea change in the way she approached living.

She looked at Shamina and announced, "We now know where we stand. Any guilt I once had is gone. I will enjoy my freedom not because Ahmed said I should or even could but because it's my birthright. I do not intend to look back. I now truly own my life. You must feel this too, Shamina. Be your own person." Shamina already was. Sara was simply catching up with her. Shamina climbed out of bed, hugged her mother and then kissed her on her lips pushing her tongue into her mouth. Sara reciprocated.

"Oh, Mum. I'd forgotten how long your tongue is. I've never found a guy with such an asset as yours." They both burst out laughing.

Shamina woke at seven, showered and kissed her mother before departing to catch her nine o'clock, much-loathed, Monday morning class. Sara, on the other hand, luxuriated in the warm bed. She cursed Ahmed in her head and then out loud. Sara quickly saw there was nothing to be gained in moping about because there was nothing she could change. She would ignore the reality of the situation and get on with her own life without a backward glance at Ahmed. She planned her week. Ceramic work and the gym. Sara had noticed she was developing love handles and needed to work on them more vigorously.

Sara's work took a new direction. Some people looking at her work might have seen the slight impression of vaginas in the subtle new folds she introduced into her work. The other women at the studio, who she had come to know through conversations during breaks, soon started to remark on her new direction. They noted the sensuality and one called them sexy, with a twinkle in her eye.

On Wednesday morning Sara realized she had heard nothing from Martin. She was tempted to call him but was concerned he would think her rude. When she arrived home in the evening a UPS package was in her mail slot. It was the photos of her pieces, some of the lingerie shots and a thumb drive with all the shots. There was no note with them. What she did not know, and could not know, was that Martin had consciously decided to make Sara come to him, to put him in the superior position. He wanted her to see him as her savior.

Sara, for her part, felt she had paid for the ceramic shots. Yet she wanted him again, not for payment but to fulfill her own needs that had been awakened. By Friday evening she still had heard nothing from Martin. She was feeling frustrated and a touch annoyed. Rather than confront Martin she chose to send an email to Ahmed. She told him that she knew about his women, and the pregnant girl and about his wife in South Africa. She was on a roll as she further informed him, she wanted nothing to do with him adding she would like a divorce. She also considered sending him one of the risqué photos to show him what he was missing but held off doing so. She hit send. Moments later she considered that perhaps she'd made a mistake.

When she checked her email an hour or so later, she saw she had received a reply. Her name was formally addressed on the email. She saw it was copied to two names she did not recognize at all. All the email said was," I divorce you. I divorce you. I divorce you." Ahmed signed it with his full signature. Sara realized that Ahmed, the atheist, had used a formal sharia-law approach and had in his eyes and the eyes of many religious people actually divorced her. Sara laughed. "That was easy." The trouble was that she still felt married to Ahmed, at a core level.

She needed distraction, so Sara phoned Martin. He saw Sara's name and was tempted to let the call go to his voicemail but relented at the last moment. "Sara how are you?"

'Fine, thank you, Martin. I was calling to let you know I have the photos. They look fine. As usual, you did a great job."

"With the pots?"

"Oh Martin. With everything of course." Sara hinted. "Perhaps we should arrange for another photographic session. I'm working on a new line of pots, but they won't be ready for a few weeks. Do you have any modeling jobs coming up?"

Martin's mind went into high gear. He wasn't sure he could pull it together but threw the idea of another lingerie shoot.

"But it's one of those doubles jobs. It will be with two models. Would you be prepared to work with another model?"

"Maybe. Would she be a professional? Am I up to standard to work with a pro?"

"Hey. Who said it would be a woman?" He paused for a second. "Just kidding. Of course, you are up to standard. Why do you worry about such things?" At the same time Martin was pleased that Sara was deferring to him. "Mmmmm."

"What?"

"One thing, maybe. Well not sure how to say this, but if you can lose a bit of weight around your waist and hips that would make you a bit more in line with the pros."

Sara was not offended. "I'm already on it and have been working in the gym on my love handles and my hips. Not much to show for the effort yet, but it's in the works."

"Had a thought about a double model session. How about pairing up with your daughter? She seemed keen to have a go at modeling. Maybe we could do a rehearsal shoot so I can see if Shamina and you work together aesthetically and present the results to the client for his OK so you can then do paid work. How does that arrangement work for you?"

"That works for me. I'll ask Shamina later today. Can that be worked into Shamina's class schedule? Most evenings she's free."

"Sure, we can schedule around Shamina." Martin was now getting excited. He wondered how far he could take this. "Call me after you have spoken with her and we'll fix a date. Must rush now. Will wait for your call. Bye." Sara could not get a word in at the end, but she sensed his excitement. Suddenly she wished she had a vibrator of some such equipment.

After Shamina had finished her supper Sara spoke to her about the call with Martin. Shamina became excited at the prospect of doing some modeling. She asked if they would get paid, so Sara explained that Martin cast the session as a rehearsal, since she, Sara had never participated in a double model session and because Shamina was an unknown talent. Shamina would have preferred to have Martin to herself but settled for what was offered. They established three dates and times that suited them both. Sara emailed the details to Martin. She received a quick reply for the Friday evening a week further on.

Martin needed a paid commission for Sara and Shamina. Well-paid if possible. His charming prick of a friend, Derek came to mind. They roomed at university together. Derek got into the pants of every woman Martin introduced to him including Martin's wife. He was brilliant programmer and created an on-line poker app in the early days and was bought out for an obscene amount.

Derek owned and ran a call-center with an adult porn video business on the side. He enjoyed his hobby businesses as it allowed him to meet some interesting women, and as long as it come close to breaking even, was happy. Guys would call when they were excited and ready to cum; the person who took the call had to spin the call out as long as possible talking the caller down from the ledge so to speak.

Martin called Derek for a drink. They met in a local bar they used to frequent as students. They were the oldest people in the bar.

"Hey, old buddy" Derek said giving Martin a mock punch in the gut. "Weird you called, I was going to call you next week."

Martin seemed distracted.

"Hello. Hello. I have a job for you. I'd like to launch a new ad campaign for the call center service," Derek said, his eyes wandering over all the women in the place.

"I just did an ad campaign for you eight months ago" Martin was annoyed when he thought of the hours of work for the cut-rate fee Derek had ground out of him. He was here to ask a favor and he was getting hit with another shit job. He fought down the bile in his stomach. He needed Derek.

"Sure, sure. It was great. I just want a new angle going into summer." Derek was not about to be put off.

"I'm working on a catalog layout. It's going to have to wait at least two weeks." Martin knew better than to say the work would be done in three days.

"Hey, no problem, pal"

Martin had a new thought. "Hey, how would you like two South Asian women as the theme?"

"Tell me more."

"I'm breaking in two women from Bribajistan who wish to crack the modeling market. I've them lined up for demonstration trial next week. You'll love this - mother and daughter. Mother a university grad. Daughter just finished second year. Bright gals."

"Tell me more."

Martin improvised a story. If you want to see them, come by next Friday at five thirty in my studio.

"OK. Might do that if you send me a photo of them and I find them OK."

"Only have shots of the mother. Nice figure. The daughter is almost a carbon copy. Tits and hips a bit smaller, I guess. Skin a bit smoother, and quite sassy. I'll email them tomorrow morning." Martin hesitated for a moment and then dove in. "Have you guys got some wardrobe stuff I can borrow for the shoot?"

"We'll see. Send me the photos. If I'm in, Ingrid will call you. She'll need measurements. Now let's get serious." Derek raised his arm a fraction. "Two draft pints, with double Scotch chasers." Derek always had the knack for catching the barman's eye.

Sara replied immediately to Martin's request for Shamina's and her measurements. She resisted the urge to remind him he already had her numbers. Sara was pleased. The request showed that Martin was serious, and the session was real.

Sara was naïve in Shamina's estimation. In fact, she was more of an innocent than naïve around relationships. That could not be said of money. She was meticulous in tracking her expenditures and revenues.

As she looked at the current numbers there was one large glaring gap: there had been no deposit from Ahmed. Sara felt a shudder of fear run through her. She tried to rationalize that a banking glitch had probably occurred, but in her heart, she knew what had happened. She phoned the bank. They phoned back an hour later with the news that the standard bank transfer had been canceled in South Africa.

She emailed Ahmed asking what happened to the support payment. She received a curt reply telling her as a divorced woman he had no obligation to send money to her or Shamina. They would receive nothing more from him. He stated he did not want to hear from her again. Her budget was now two-thousand a month short.

Panic set in. Sara had no idea how they would survive. She had savings for about three months of living expenses, if they kept at their current spending level, providing there were no extraordinary unplanned expenses. The ceramics income had dropped off after an initial flurry of sales with the novelty of her work hitting the galleries. Her new work may produce some sales, but it meant that Sara was faced with either producing commercially or getting more for her pieces.

Sara was grim when Shamina arrived home. She laid out the facts. Shamina said she'd get a job but did not sound enthusiastic about it. Sara was worried about Shamina's grades if she also worked. She could also get student loans. To date she managed to remain loan-free. Sara also contemplated getting a job but had no idea what work she could get. They agreed they needed a plan but had no idea what form it would take. Although Sara had not drunk alcohol since she was in college, and normally refused all pressure to have a drink, they broke out a bottle of wine and finished it between them. They slept together peacefully in each other's arms.

At the studio the next day Sara remembered one of the older ladies mentioned that she had been a lawyer. Sara cornered her in the cafeteria. "Grace, can you give me some free advice?"

Grace liked Sara. She had helped Grace with some glazing issues and was friendly. "Sure, Sara. What can I do for you?" Sara explained her position as clearly as she could. Grace asked some questions and reflected on the answers. "Sara, Ahmed is still married to you by our local standards. He has an obligation to you and your daughter. You'd most likely win any case in court, but the legal fees would run into thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars that I assume you do not have. That said it would be a pyrrhic victory. I can think of no way you'd be able to collect from him in South Africa. The only suggestion I have is to write to his company and see if you can get at him that way. It's a slim to no chance way to go. I can offer nothing better, but I'll make some phone calls and see if I can come up with anything better."

Shamina did the research, found the company contact details on their annual statement, and had written a succinct draft of a letter to the CEO, all in the course of two hours that evening. After a bit of burnishing of the language and checking the spelling three times they sent the letter off as an email, explaining the urgency. They had done all they could and went to bed early.

The next morning Sara sat up in bed, fully awake, thinking what type of job she could possibly get. She was fifty-one, had no work experience apart from ceramics and a limited amount of experience with some computer software. She shuddered at the thought of serving at McDonald's or a donut shop, but secretly acknowledged to herself it might come to that. She had no idea as to how to start looking for a job. She knew that finding out how to get started was the first order of business.

As she rounded out these thoughts, Martin called, asking breezily, "You still OK for tomorrow night?" Sara had pushed the thought of the modeling session out of her mind. "Well, are you? You'll be pleased to hear I have a paying client lined up. He's coming over to see you lovely ladies, and if he likes you there will be something in it for you both."

Sara took it as a Sign. "Of course, Martin. We wouldn't miss it for the world." Her words hid a wash of anxiety that passed through her being as she said it.

Shamina was hyper with excitement. Some of it brushed off on Sara. They opened some wine and toasted each other. "Here's to us." They set out to the modeling session determined to set their difficulties aside and have a good time.

Ingrid had turned up at Martin's an hour earlier than the appointed time with a hairdresser, make-up girl and dresser in tow. Together they wheeled in three large trunks of clothes and cosmetic supplies. Ingrid was no more than five feet tall, wore oversized black heavy-framed glasses, and wore an oversized sweater and a long skirt like armor. She hid a pretty face and a slim figure. What she lacked in size she made up for with an outsized personality. What she said was Law.

She took over the studio, arranged it, placed the lighting, set up and draped the chaise longue as a centerpiece and placed some scattered chairs around. Ingrid then organized the back room with wine and up-market nibbles on a side table, with the clothes set out in an order she had previously planned. Ingrid usually directed Derek's videos, so this was breeze for her.

Finally, she set up three small discrete high definition video cameras around the studio. A control table was established with three screens and a computer in one corner near the back. Each camera could be panned and zoomed using Bluetooth from the control. She equipped Martin and herself with a headphone and microphone set. The set-up had taken fifty minutes, just as she planned. Sara and Shamina arrived spot on time ten minutes later. This pleased Ingrid.