Sophia Pt. 02

FOUR

'We missed you,' said Clare when Sophia entered the marquee after rearranging her hair and clothing with the help of the mirror in the drawing room.

'Call of nature, I'm afraid. And I needed to find a quiet place to phone Peter and check on how the kids were.'

'Everything okay, I hope?'

'Oh, yes. He always spoils them rotten when I'm away.'

'Everyone's been asking me if I know anything about a mysterious French woman who seems to have invited herself to the wedding. Fiona, who was sitting on the same table, says she's a big society hostess in Paris.'

'What on earth would bring her to darkest Norfolk?' Sophia said. 'Ed obviously doesn't know her?'

'Well, if he does, he's not admitting it. A couple of his friends tried their luck with her but she wasn't interested in dancing. They said she must be a lesbian!'

'The eternal complaint of the rejected male!'

'Anyway, enough about her. I wasn't sure what time you'd want to crash tonight, so I made this arrangement with the local cab company that you could call them any time after eleven and they'd have someone on standby.'

'That would be great. Actually, I feel like letting my hair down but I'd be happy to avoid the leches. Where's that husband of yours when you want him?'

'One of his aunts went back to her car to fetch something and discovered that she'd got a flat tyre, so he told her he'd sort it for her. Actually, I think he was just looking for an excuse to change out of his formal gear.'

Just at that moment one of the bridesmaids passed by.

'You got to keep an eye on that man of yours, you know, Clare,' she said. 'Soon as your back's turned, he's locked in conversation with that Angelique or whatever her name is. I didn't know he was into cougars!'

'Probably just practising his French,' said Clare, before realising how that might sound and bursting out laughing.

'That one's a predator, if ever I've seen one. Coming to a wedding dressed in black! You should give her the old heave-ho, Clare.'

'Oh, I don't know. Nothing like a wedding crasher to spice up the party. As long as she doesn't run off with the family silver.'

'I don't know what she would use it for. She hardly touched her food, according to Fifi.'

As soon as Ed returned, Sophia made a beeline for him and dragged him onto the dancefloor. He was remarkably sober, not least because, as he told Sophia, he had been insufferably nervous about his speech. His sobriety enabled him to judge the state of the guests and he noted with surprise that Sophia was as tipsy as he had ever seen her. He put this down to the fact that she was attending on her own and missing Peter. After a couple of dances, he was ready to find a new partner - plenty of whom were waiting their turn - but Sophia seemed not to want to let him go. After a while, she asked him what he had been talking to the French woman about.

'Oh, this and that. Everyone thinks I quizzed her about why she was here but it wasn't like that at all. Actually, she's not the stuck-up bitch that everyone makes her out to be. You should chat to her if you get the chance. She stays in your neck of the woods when she's in London. Has some sort of import-export business, it seems. She mentioned something about gastronomic products from Gascony.'

'Wherever that might happen to be.'

'Yeah, exactly. The only export I know from Gascony is D'Artagnan. When I told her that she was quite impressed, I must say.'

'Ah, but that's because you didn't tell her you didn't know where the hell Gascony is.'

'Well, you have a point there.'

Pepped by the gossip, Sophia left Ed and accepted several other invitations to dance before it was announced that the wedding breakfast would soon be served. People who wished to partake of beefburgers, hot dogs and salads could go out onto the terrace, while those who preferred to keep dancing or talking could do so in the tent. Sophia thought that this was perhaps a good time to contact the taxi firm. She had meant to get the number from Clare but had forgotten to do so among all the chatter about the exotic Frenchwoman. Not seeing her in the tent, she ventured onto the path that led round past the ornamental pond to the terrace. She was level with the fountain - a replica of the Anteros to be found in Piccadilly Circus - when a figure moved out of the shadows.

'We really should stop meeting like this,' said Veronique, grabbing Sophia by the wrist and kissing her fiercely on the mouth. 'It is time for bed, no? Or rather it is time for the bedroom?'

'Look, I really need to call a taxi. I have a booking at the Holiday Inn and -'

'There is plenty of room in my bedroom. It has a very comfortable king size bed. Why would you want to spend the night in a dingy little room of a third-rate hotel chain when you can savour the delights of a home away from home?'

'But, you know, I've been thinking and though it's been fun and, you know, well, exciting to be a bit wild, you know, and do something a little different - to break the routine and all that sort of thing...'

Sophia broke off, not knowing how to wind up what she was saying - even what exactly she intended to say.

'You talk too much, pretty English rose,' said Veronique.

Then she reached under Sophia's dress, pushed her panties aside and slid her index finger into Sophia's sex. The way her muscles tightened around her finger told Veronique all she needed to know about Sophia's hunger.

'Tonight we make love like you have never made it before. This way,' she added, taking Sophia's hand. 'We can slip out the tradesman's entrance.'

FIVE

Despite Sophia's protestations - she needed to say goodbye to Clare and Ed, she should call the taxi company as a courtesy, someone wanted the phone number of a tax lawyer she knew - Veronique soon had Sophia back at the inn. She got her key from reception while Sophia hovered in the shadows and together they took the staircase to the first floor. She unlocked the door, motioning to Sophia to go in first. Leaving the door open, she used the light coming in from the corridor to move across to the far side of the room and turn on the bedside lamp. She then returned to the door, closed it and locked it.

Sophia fiddled with her clutch bag and started to give the speech she had prepared on the short walk to the inn.

'As you know, I am a married woman and I am kind of old-fashioned in my beliefs. I cannot pretend that I haven't been flattered by your attentions, but I have thought a lot about this and have decided that things must end here. I am sure you will understand.'

In response, Veronique moved closer to Sophia and kissed her forehead. She reached behind her back, found the zipper and pulled it slowly down to her waist. Sophia stood as if frozen to the spot. She was helpless as Veronique once again exposed her breasts - this time with an unaccustomed gentleness which unnerved her.

'I understand one thing,' said Veronique, in little more than a whisper. 'I can sense your desire. I can feel your desire. I can smell your desire.'

'Oh my God!' breathed Sophia, as Veronique moved both hands down over her breasts, over her stomach and towards her centre. 'I really beg you, please, don't...Aah!'

Veronique's right palm had found its way beneath Sophia's dress, which now lay at half-mast around her waist, and under her lace panties to mould itself over the contours of her mound. Drawing Sophia's head towards her with her other hand, she kissed her deeply and increasingly urgently, adjusting the rhythm of both hand and tongue according to the surge in desire that communicated itself so patently from her lover's body - from her whole being.

'Do you want me to stop?' she breathed in her ear.

She took the absence of reply as permission to move her probing hand from Sophia's silky down to her slick labial folds. Unhurried, she massaged the entrance way for what seemed like minutes before breathing once again in Sophia's ear.

'Do you want me to stop?'

This time Sophia responded by taking Veronique's hand and guiding it inside her, first one finger, then another, then, it seemed, all four. Veronique's mouth closed on her lover's, her tongue working in time with her fingers in Sophia's more intimate opening - tenderly, unerringly, ceaselessly. With her free hand, Veronique pulled down Sophia's dress and then her new apricot panties, leaving her only in her shoes. Without breaking the kiss or withdrawing her fingers from her core, she lay Sophia down on the bed, still wearing her shoes. She increased the urgency of her kissing, even as she worked her fingers deeper into Sophia's vulva. With her thumb she started massaging her clitoris.

She felt the response welling up inside Sophia but she had no desire that she should spend herself so quickly. She had dared to defy her and she must be taught a lesson. A lesson that would stand her in good stead in her future love-making. The virtue of patience, and the virtue of obedience. So she slowed her speed, broke off the kiss and slowly brought her hand out of Sophia. Now that she had her pupil's attention, she decided to put on a little show for her, to further heighten her arousal and reinforce the lesson in the value of patience.

She began to unbutton her blouse button by button, waiting till all had been unfastened before slowly taking it off and discarding it on the floor. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her black bra, letting the cups stay in place for perhaps fifteen seconds before using both hands to slide it down her stomach and then flinging it away across the room. Instinctively, Sophia assumed a sitting position on the bed and reached out to touch the breasts - at last freed from their confinement. She remembered - without any shame now - all the times she had fantasised about touching them, holding them, taking them in her mouth. Sometimes, alone in her bed, sometimes when she was making love with Peter.

Without moving an inch, Veronique showed who was in charge by a shake of her head. Sophia eased herself back onto the bed, assuming the position of a Rubens model without the 17^th century voluptuousness. Becoming aware that she was still wearing shoes, she twisted round to take them off but again a signal from Veronique stopped her. She was beginning to understand the submissive role she was required to play. Not only did she understand it, she realised that she was relishing it. But she would not submit without a fight. She had already sized her opponent up, and she knew that her role was to play the naughty pupil who was teacher's pet.

Satisfied that her student was showing the required deference, Veronique unzipped her skirt and let if fall to the floor. When she stepped out of it, Sophia uttered an involuntary whistle of appreciation as Veronique's petite figure was shown off to best effect by sheer black stockings held in place by a dark grey suspender belt and garters framing her French knickers. She lifted each foot in turn onto the bed and asked Sophia to take off her shoes.

'Now kiss my feet,' she said.

Sophia bent down and kissed the toes of first one stockinged foot and then the other. Veronique reached out her hand and told Sophia to follow her.

'Time to shower,' she said.

Once in the bathroom, Sophia entered the shower cubicle and let the water run. Looking out through the glass door, she noticed that Veronique had returned to the bedroom - presumably in order to remove her remaining garments. Sophia stood under the shower nozzle and let the hot water embrace her body. She applied some shampoo to her hair and worked it into her scalp and through her long tresses. Having rinsed the shampoo off, she started to work the shower gel over her arms, legs and feet. She then squeezed some soap onto her hands and started to work it into her back.

'Let me help you with that,' said Veronique, who had slipped into the shower behind her.

'Oh, great, thanks,' said Sophia, genuinely surprised and a little disconcerted. She was not used to sharing a shower with anyone, not even Peter. Even though he had on occasion offered to 'help wash her back', she didn't get turned on by his cock flapping about on her ass as his hands worked on her breasts from behind.

Veronique reached round for the gel dispenser, brushing Sophia's breast en route, and pumped some into her hand. She started to rub the soap into Sophia's shoulders, moving down to the small of her back. Methodically, she then took the shower head and rinsed her off. Replacing the shower head, she took another measure of gel and began working on Sophia's buttocks, first one, then the other, gradually inching closer to the crevice that separated her well-proportioned, firm and slightly wobbly cheeks. Sophia sensed rather than saw Veronique drop to her knees and responded by turning the jet so it should not be in her mistress's eyes. Veronique responded to the courtesy by pulling the cheeks apart and running her finger down her crack and onto the browny pink bud, using the remaining soapy lather to lave the outer petals. Sophia planted her legs further apart and bent over so that her head was nestled against the tiles between the taps and the sliding door. So much for the sanctity of the shower, she found time to reflect, as Veronique slowed things down again by returning for some soap.

'Oh my fucking God!' Sophia all but roared, as Veronique's finger entered her forbidden hole.

'Ah, fuck!' she repeated as that finger worked its way expertly up and down and round and round.

Not wanting to lose the moment, Veronique swiftly rinsed her down before returning to her position on the floor and making her next move. While her tongue led the attack on Sophia's defenceless asshole, Veronique's fingers probed her dripping pussy. Despite the noise of the cascading water and her singularly disadvantageous position in respect of listening to her partner's utterances, Veronique had no trouble making out the screams emanating from her mouth.

In response, Veronique slowed down momentarily, as if her troops needed to regroup before recommencing their assault. To say this had the desired effect would be an understatement.

'Make me cum, you fucking bitch! Fuck me harder, you French cunt!'

Turned on more than she had been in many a year, Veronique redoubled her attack on both fronts. And it was not to be long before each army had surrendered. Not before a fight, it must be said. Veronique, who had been effectively holding Sophia up for several minutes, allowed her conquered foe to sink slowly to the floor. Leaving her there to regain her strength for campaigns to come, she turned off the water, left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom to make it ready for the next engagement.

SIX

When Sophia had recovered enough to pick herself off the floor she rinsed herself off and then brushed her teeth and dried her hair. This always took her a long time and she was frankly in no hurry given her rather fragile state. God, if Peter could see me now, she thought. And to think that it had always been him who had entertained fantasies of watching her with another woman. She wasn't entirely sure that he would have enjoyed watching her shower scene with Veronique, though. He might just have felt surplus to requirements.

One day she would really have to sit down and think about what had happened to her. She had never so much as kissed a woman before. Well, not like that, anyway. And yet from the first moment this woman had breezed over to her table she had known in her heart of hearts that all that had happened - well, maybe not all - had been inevitable. Fated, written in the stars, was probably a more accurate way of putting it. Had a woman ever come onto her before without her realising it? Well, there had been times on business trips and what have you, but in those cases to be honest she hadn't found the women attractive - they had invariably been older than her - and she hadn't given them (or it) another thought. And she did like men; and she liked Peter. She loved him. So what was going on?

At 32, she was hardly old enough to be going through a mid-life crisis and she was as happy as she had ever been. Yes, she had felt a degree of frustration at not being a paid member of the workforce doing what she did best, but with the new job due to start in the autumn, her spirits had received a lift. When she had thought about the flirting that would start once she was installed in her new post in a new company, she had always characterised it as male and as flirting. Now, she realised she had a taste for forbidden fruit that it would be difficult to ignore. She could envisage a future in which she could as easily be the predator as the prey. She had always been a quick learner and in Veronique she was in the hands - and quite a bit else - of a good teacher. Possibly one of the very best.

Full of these reflections, Sophia returned to the bedroom wearing only a towel. The scene that greeted her could have come out of a movie. The bedside light had been switched off and in its place a plethora of candles had been lit. No ordinary candles these, they were scented candles. Sophia could make out honey, sandalwood and lemongrass, but there were others besides which she couldn't immediately identify. Not that she was in any hurry to. She went to the bed, where Veronique was lying beneath a sheet, her raven hair spread out over the pillows. She let the towel fall to the floor and moved onto the bed beside Veronique.

'Hey,' she said.

'Hey.'

'Long day? Ready for bed?' said Sophia, mockingly.

'We could sleep or we could find new ways to entertain ourselves.'

'I'm not sure I could sleep.'

'Then it is time to explore the boundaries a little, no?'

'Do we still have any to cross?'

'You have much to learn, pretty English rose. You are fortunate that you have a willing teacher.'

'Am I teacher's pet?'

'I will only be able to decide that once you have taken all your tests. Are you ready for your next examination. It will be a close and detailed one, and you will be required to do your part.'

'Will there be an oral element? I was always rather good at those.'

'We can start with the oral if you wish.'

Veronique raised herself up and took in Sophia's body.

'You smell good,' she said. 'Your hair, it is so beautiful.'

'And here, your hair is so fine and golden. How it entices one to enter the secret and forbidden chamber of your body.'

'You sure know how to talk dirty. Kiss me.'

Veronique obliged, moving Sophia's arms up the bed beyond her head as she did so.

'These, I will have to tie up,' she said, breaking the kiss, 'so you are not tempted to disobey me.'

Veronique went across the room to her bag, out of which she took a length of silk cord. She returned and tied it lightly around Sophia's wrists.

'You come prepared, don't you?'

'Shush, my child. No more jokes. Is it not your wish to return to the place I took you earlier?'

Sophia merely nodded her head in agreement.

Veronique started by making her descent of Sophia's arms from wrist to shoulder, planting butterfly kisses on her skin. She gave her fingers to Sophia's mouth, where they received the attention they craved as the younger woman ran her tongue along their ridges until she came to the nails, where she nibbled gently on the cuticles. In the meantime, lying head to toe alongside her lover, Veronique moved her attention to Sophia's feet, separating each toe in turn - starting with the big one and ending with the smallest - first dusting it with her tongue and then taking it into her mouth and setting off the nerve endings in the soft spaces between the toes. Caressing each slim ankle with one hand, she ran the nails of her other along the Achilles tendon, before shifting her attention to the calves and shins, which she covered with eager but gentle kisses.