Sophia's Choice Pt. 07

SEVENTEEN

It was half past six when the cold woke Sophia. She checked her phone and saw she hadn't received a message from Peter. No doubt he had found comfort in the arms of the au pair before resting up for the weekend and his game of golf and day out with his neandertal friends. She made the best of a bad job by messaging him to say that the karaoke had gone on into the early hours and she had been offered the use of one of the rooms at the club, which the Japanese brass liked to use after a night on the Suntory whisky.

It was as lame as an alibi could be, but it would do. She told Peter she'd be back by eight, which gave her time to shoot back to the office and change into her sensible work clothes. She tried to get herself ready without disturbing the girls, but first Karina, then Iben woke. Iben kindly offered her the use of a new toothbrush, kissing her on both cheeks before she passed it over. After she had dressed and the flatmates had slipped robes on, Sophia accepted their offer of a quick cup of coffee, knowing that she had time on her side.

Sensing that Sophia was a little down, Iben asked if anything was troubling her. Desperate to share her burden, the older woman told them about her problem with Petsi. While Iben found it difficult to believe that the Swede wouldn't be throwing herself at her employer, Karina - who knew the Englishwoman better - thought that her intensity might be putting the au pair off and preventing them from enjoying a closer relationship. Sophia acknowledged that she had been a little too pushy with the helper, while strategically failing to mention that she had fucked her boyfriend at the earliest opportunity. (She had recently learned from Peter that Ulf had been off the scene for a month or so, and had put two and two together about Petsi blaming her for the break-up.)

It was Iben (who had taken a shine to Sophia from the get-go and who didn't possess a jealous bone in her body) who suggested a way in which the breakthrough might be made. Why didn't Peter and Sophia invite the two of them over for dinner? They could help create the atmosphere in which Petsi's resistance could be broken down. Sophia thought about the idea and decided she liked it. Liked it a lot. Having thanked the girls for a wonderful time, she left with a spring in her high-heeled step, turning the head of the postman, as he made his early morning rounds of leafy North London.

Peter was up and about when Sophia returned, getting breakfast for the children in the weekend absence of Petsi, who had been with him in her bedroom until eleven o'clock the previous evening. As fate would have it, Peter had been speaking to the Swedish girl about her relationship with Sophia, urging her to chill out when around her. Petsi, feeling that Peter was trying to push her away, had started to cry, seeking comfort in his arms. The way Peter put it was like this: Sophia wanted to show Petsi that she considered her part of the family. Drawing closer together with her physically, he reasoned, would help cement the emotional bonds between them, while establishing a mutual empathy, which could only benefit everyone involved. It might have been poppycock, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

When his wife returned home, rather than quizzing her about her nocturnal activities, Peter was very chipper, talking about what they might do the following day as a family and making her favourite breakfast of crêpes with salmon and cream cheese, while dealing with the demands of the kids, for whom Sophia had arranged gymnastic classes, which started later that morning in a local church hall.

Before he departed for his day out with the lads, as he was upstairs packing his waterproofs, he mentioned to his wife that Petsi had spoken of wanting to strengthen her emotional bond with her. Sophia knew better than to ask how this apparent change of heart had come about, but just had time before Peter left to tell him that she would be inviting her former intern (now on a short-term contract with an internet start-up before heading back to Copenhagen to finish her course) and her Norwegian flatmate over for dinner.

She believed this would provide a tremendous fillip for Petsi, since they could all chat together in their native languages (Swedish, Danish and Norwegian being more or less mutually intelligible, so Iben had told her). Peter said it sounded like a splendid idea, and suggested they talk about it again later. Peter went off with a song in his heart, as the saying goes - a song that would have segued into the Hallelujah Chorus had he known that Karina had already been having daydreams about him.

It was not until the following day (after they had returned from a visit to Peter's brother's place for Sunday lunch) that Peter and Sophia were able to put their heads together about a possible date for the get together. In the end, they plumped for the spring solstice, 21 March, which that year fell on a Saturday, if it was good for their three prospective guests. They would ask Carrie if the kids could have a sleepover with her that night, failing which they could always go to Peter's parents, who lived only an hour away. While the children wouldn't be mad about the idea, Peter's folks would be delighted. They didn't talk about it, but Peter and Sophia knew they felt they got the short straw as far as seeing the grandchildren was concerned, even though they lived so close.

Within a few days, everything had fallen into place, and Sophia's only gripe was that she'd have to wait the best part of a month before the deal was sealed with Petsi. That would mean she would have been in a state of the utmost frustration for going on four months. How she hated her husband sometimes for the ease with which he got what he wanted. Why did it always come with such difficulty for her?

The big day finally arrived and Sophia was pleased to see that Petsi, who had been relieved of cooking duties so she could enjoy herself to the utmost, had made a special effort sartorially. She had put on a ivory crew-neck short-sleeved crop top with a shiny black satin mini skirt with a broad elasticated waist of the type boxers wear in the ring. The top scarcely covered Petsi's navel and the ensemble was comfortably the sexiest thing Sophia had ever seen the girl wear.

Peter had been put in charge of the dinner, which Sophia realised was a mistake as soon as their guests arrived, as they all insisted on heading to the kitchen to speak with the chef. He soon had them on a string, marvelling over not just his culinary skills but also for being a 'Renaissance man'. Sophia was strongly tempted to show them photos of him lying on the floor of a restaurant with his neandertals after a pretty run-of-the-mill night out, but refrained on the grounds they would compliment him for his metrosexuality or some such shit. Anyway, it took a good 20 minutes to get them out of the kitchen, where Peter was taking an age to prepare the pomegranate salad, which would accompany the pulled pork that was simmering away in the oven.

Once the women were seated in the sitting room with the drinks they'd brought with them from the kitchen, much to Sophia's dismay, the conversation continued to revolve around her husband. Karina told the story of how she'd seen a photo of Peter on Sophia's desk when she first started working for her, and had made it part of her daily ritual to sneak a peek of it at some point during the day. Karina was sitting in the middle of the sofa between Iben and Petsi, while Sophia was sitting on the armchair at Petsi's end of the settee. She had opted for the English Rose look - a below-the-knee Laura Ashley V-neck frock with a nipped-in waist and broad shoulder straps. Large red roses were patterned onto the cream-coloured dress, as well as onto the straps. With them she wore a pair of Italian crocheted cotton and leather ballet flats in white and deep red.

Karina was wearing what Sophia dubbed a lesbian power outfit, a white single-breasted slim-fit tuxedo over a beige T-shirt. Happily, she had taken off her passion-killing black boots at the front door. Iben had chosen an army-style khaki shirt with breast pockets. The long sleeves had been rolled up one cuff-length and the top three buttons left undone, providing a tantalising glimpse of the valley between her breasts. She had paired these with a pair of tight-fitting beltless jeans. She looked good enough to eat, thought Sophia.

After a quarter of an hour, Peter came in to a chorus of appreciation and expressions of solicitation about his wellbeing, and offered to refill everyone's glasses. That service performed, he settled into the other armchair - opposite the sofa. He was wearing what Sophia called his 'pulling gear': a slim-fitting black roll-neck jumper tucked into a pair of matching trousers, with loafers.

Petsi seemed to get along with the guests very well, judging from her relaxed demeanour and the tendency for the three of them to slip into their native tongue when they got particularly excited about something. Their conversation covered a variety of topics: the respective merits of Scandinavian and British universities, AI essay-writing bots and its effect on education, democratic socialism versus capitalism, and, as is the case when two or three foreign students gather together, English food.

That provided the cue for Peter, who had popped out a few minutes earlier, to return with the news that dinner was served. The pulled pork (which had been cooked for nine or ten hours in an aromatic sauce of apple cider vinegar, cinnamon sticks, coriander seeds, crushed chilli, black pepper, salt and brown sugar) was served in baguettes, with a pomegranate and mixed leaf salad on the side. It was a huge hit with everyone; even Sophia was impressed, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek, as she walked past him to get the dessert. Besides setting down a marker to remind the girls that she had first claims to the man, she thought the gesture might send the message that the next phase of the evening would soon be starting.

The dessert out of the way, and coffees and various teas having been consumed at the table, the party headed back to the sitting room, where Peter passed round glasses of the Heering cherry liqueur that Karina had brought along. This time, Iben sat in the middle of the sofa, while everyone else assumed their former positions. And it was to be Iben who made the first move after an hour of animated conversation - fuelled in part by the liqueur.

EIGHTEEN

Turning to Karina on her left, she kissed her on the lips, placing one hand just above her knee. As Karina started to kiss her back, Sophia looked first at Peter, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, then at Petsi, who shifted in her place a little uncomfortably and gave a nervous cough. After a minute or so, Peter got up, touching Petsi on the shoulder as he went past her, and dimmed the ceiling lights, so that most of the light was now coming from the two table lamps beside Peter and Sophia's armchairs, respectively. Iben took advantage of the relative gloom to shift her position on the sofa so that she now had both legs under her with her back to Petsi. Placing her hands either side of the Dane's face, she started almost to chew on her mouth, using her tongue to maximal effect.

Karina made straight for her flatmate's breasts, moving a hand into the voluminous opening of her shirt and caressing each breast in turn with urgency. Her fingers flew down Iben's shirt, making short work of the buttons, before tugging the shirttail from her jeans, dealing with the extra buttons, removing the shirt and discarding it on the floor. Replacing hand with tongue, she started working with genuine hunger on Iben's nipples, causing the girl to moan deeply and regularly. At the same time, the Norwegian threw her head back. With no sofa to support it, it remained thrown back.

Suddenly, Petsi felt a hand on her knee. It was Sophia, stretching across from her chair. Instinctively, the au pair darted a look at Peter, who nodded back to her reassuringly. Standing up, Sophia squeezed in beside Iben, sitting sideways on the sofa, with her back lending support to the Norwegian girl's head. She held both of Petsi's hands in hers and took a deep breath - more figuratively than literally. Petsi returned Sophia's gaze and found herself leaning in towards her employer. Rather than meet her halfway, Sophia decided to check her movement inward to test Petsi's commitment. There were to be no second thoughts, as the Swedish beauty locked lips with Sophia and slipped her tongue between the older women's teeth. Sophia's tongue came out to meet the long-awaited visitor and took it on a tour of her mouth.

Now that she had surrendered to Sophia's charms, there was to be no holding back on Petsi's part. On the contrary, she was like a woman possessed, moulding her hands around Sophia's breasts - breasts she had many times thought about and masturbated to. Sophia wanted to access Petsi's magnificent pair too, but she was in no mood to allow anything to get in the way. She hitched her hands under Petsi's crop top and in one easy movement lifted the flimsy item over her head. Without pausing, she unclasped her bra and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Breaking the kiss, she made a full-frontal assault on her helper's incredible chest.

Karina and Iben paused - and in Iben's case, turned - to watch the beautiful scene unfolding beside them. But not for long. Their passion reignited by the display of pure lust, they returned to their lovemaking with renewed vigour, Iben undoing the single button on Karina's jacket and making short work of both that and the T-shirt underneath it.

Both sets of girls were working vigorously on their partners' breasts and Peter had the best seat in the house. He undid his zip, slid down his briefs, and began working on his powerful column with slow, languorous strokes, hatching a plan to time his orgasm to coincide with whichever of the girls came first. On current form, it was likely to be Petsi. Since the barriers had come down, pent-up frustrations built up over months were being released with astonishing speed and power. She was surrendering herself to Sophia with body and soul, urging her to show no mercy, to punish her and pillage her.

Sophia slipped off the sofa and pulled the slinky skirt off Petsi. Only a pair of pink low-rise thongs stood between her and her objective. Now that she had her where she wanted her, Sophia was in no mood to hurry things, no mood to miss out on any pleasure that she might have cause to regret later. She told Petsi to turn round so she could get a good look at her ass. The sight of the tiny piece of cloth - hardly wider than a shoelace - wedged between her buttocks created a surge of desire. Knowing that Peter would have his eyes glued on Petsi, Sophia moved aside to let her husband see the table that was spread before her at last.

Caring no longer for the encumbrance her dress provided, she took it off, revealing (at least to Peter) her soft-cup lilac triangle bra of sheer mesh and floral embroidery, along with matching panties. Sophia couldn't resist planting kisses on Petsi's perfect ass, her hands finding her pomegranate-like breasts once more and squeezing them gently, her fingers seeking out her pink nipples and giving them a little of the attention they craved.

Knowing she must fight the ever-present temptation to go too fast and diminish her enjoyment, Sophia moved her focus to Petsi's feet, kissing and licking first the soles and the heels, and then the toes - freshly painted in a delicate shade of rose. A sudden thought of Peter ripping off her own panties and taking her from behind flashed through her mind. She looked across at the others and realised how slowly she must have been taking things when she was confronted by the sight of Karina crouched not three feet from her on the carpet licking Iben out. She realised at this moment that her fantasy of being taken by Peter was likely to be superseded by the reality of her husband plunging his penis into the Dane within touching distance of her.

Yet still Sophia held firm, refusing to rush and determined to extract every single ounce of pleasure from this magical encounter. Spreading Petsi's toes, she worked her way between them, encouraged by the response the Swedish girl was giving her. It was all so beautifully sensual, Sophia thought. Maybe it had something to do with having an audience; maybe even more with being in a group sex scenario. Somehow it both turned her on and calmed her down. She couldn't quite understand why or how, but then she didn't really want to understand. Being in the centre of a raging river, finding her own path downstream while the waters bubbled and foamed around her, was a wondrous experience and one she didn't want to jeopardise by analysis.

She was now working on Petsi's ankles and calves, the soft area behind her knees, her thighs, her hips, the small of her back, her neck, her golden hair, her ears.

'Turn round,' she whispered in her ear.

Petsi turned to face her employer with a look on her face that combined longing with a deep ache. They kissed once more - each determined to wash away the months of mistrust. Sophia was on the point of moving her hand down Petsi's body and into her sex when she was pre-empted by the Swedish girl. Sophia grunted as slender fingers snaked their way under the waistband of her panties and dropped effortlessly into her sodden pussy.

'Aw, fuck!' she breathed, as those fingers probed their mistress's cunny.

Petsi flipped Sophia over and tore off her panties. Her own needs needed meeting, and meeting urgently. She dived headfirst into the older woman's pool without a thought for her own safety. Now underwater, she was determined to make her come before she returned to the surface. In the event, she would have no cause to worry about running out of oxygen. She had only taken three or four strokes when the upheaval she was expecting exploded around her with devastating force. Peter had been wrong: it was not Petsi, but his wife, who had been the first to reach orgasm. Shortly afterwards, Iben followed suit; but not before, sandwiched in between, Peter had launched a jet of white sperm arcing through the air. The carpet's steam-cleaning, Sophia thought, watching her husband lose control, would have to be brought forward to next week.

NINETEEN

When everyone had had the chance to draw breath, Sophia asked the others if they would like to move upstairs to the bedroom. The answer was a resounding 'no'. It seemed the atmosphere (aura, even) of this room suited everyone just fine. Iben got the Dane to sit with her legs raised vertically - her hands gripping her ankles to help keep her legs up. Her sex was lewdly on display, Peter being able to get a look at its gorgeous contours. After she had swept her tongue over her lover's labia and vulva for a couple of minutes, Iben graciously turned to Peter and invited him to join them.

He was over like a shot, walking awkwardly with his trousers round his ankles. Iben, laughing, helped him out of his trousers, then his jumper, before pausing a moment with her hands on the elasticated waist of his briefs. He had tucked his penis back inside after he had ejaculated, but it was quickly becoming swollen once again. With Karina in a pose that she couldn't be expected to hold for too much longer, Iben decided to hold off an assault on Peter's obviously impressive member until he had brought Karina off.

The allure of the Dane's stunning pussy meant that the disappointment Peter felt was only temporary, especially when Iben started to caress his manhood through the cotton fabric of his briefs shortly after he had got down to serious work on Karina's box. It was aurally as well as visually a special engagement, with both Karina and Peter moaning and groaning, and Iben keeping both her hands busy: one on Peter's flint-like weapon, the other working hard on her own clitoris. Indeed, it wasn't long before the soundtrack featured three distinct voices.