Sophia's Choice Pt. 09

TWENTY-FIVE

Sophia celebrated her 36^th birthday something of a rejuvenated woman. They spent that weekend as a family with Sophia's parents in Devon, her mother now thankfully on the mend after her stroke. Chloe went riding on a Shetland pony, as she always liked to do when she got the chance, and spent every spare moment she could in the garden using the watercolour set that her grandparents had bought her. Ollie was in his element in the local lanes and fields, which he explored with his father and sometimes his grandfather, catching all manner of insects and bringing them home for classification, using the books that he found in the study, and, when that failed, the Internet.

Sophia talked with Peter about Veronique's visit and the closure she felt that it had brought. She was open to the idea of seeing her again in the future, but being with her and, even worse, the anticipation of being with her affected her viscerally in ways she couldn't explain or even really understand. Peter felt it was because she was a deeper person than, say, he was, which caused her to laugh and say that just about anybody was.

What he really felt but didn't want to say at this point was that she was possessed of a dark side, a depressive side, which needed managing. Winston Churchill, he had read recently, had called depression a black dog, and that seemed to sum it up very well for Peter, who had to live with someone who was afflicted by the condition. It was black because it made the person look at the negative side of things before they considered the positive, and it was a dog because it was so loyal, so faithful - always by your side.

Unlike his own, purer enjoyment of sex for sex's sake, he had come to appreciate that for his wife it was part of her need to be constantly affirmed. Yes, there were other elements: her immense competitiveness and her desire to dominate others - two ways of saying the same thing, he realised, as he reflected on it - and of course the enjoyment, but at heart what she was seeking in this domain as in every other was approbation. If only he could find a way to make her realise that she had no need to prove herself, to him or to anyone.

These reflections put him in mind of his wife's best friend Carrie, whose husband Gordon was a sometime golfing partner of his, although he had been playing less since suffering a disc injury a couple of years back. They must really have them over one evening. This was something that used to happen regularly in the days before the kids came along, but had become a rare event since then. He would suggest to Sophia an evening at home for just the four of them (perhaps Petsi could look after the children at Carrie's place). He could think of no better way to pep his wife up and give her something to look forward to among the daily grind of office work.

Unfortunately, things didn't work out as Peter had planned, Sophia becoming quite agitated when the suggestion was put to her. Peter put this down to her lingering embarrassment about the Gordon incident, but he knew better than to press her when she was feeling vulnerable. If she saw any merit in the idea, then she would come back to him in her own good time. And that is precisely what happened. One Saturday morning, when they were sitting chatting at the local ice rink, while Ollie and Chloe were having their lesson, Sophia apologised for being short with Peter before, explaining that she had had a particularly difficult time at work that day.

She would love to have them over and she would even be responsible for the cooking. She had read about this killer Brussels sprouts dish, and, since she knew sprouts were a particularly favourite of the couple, she would do this with some steaks and potato wedges. Nothing fancy, but she didn't need to go to great lengths to impress them, since they were their oldest and best friends. Peter said he'd do sticky toffee pudding for afters, which should have delighted Sophia - she knew that - but actually rather irritated her, since she felt it would get all the attention. Why is Peter always trying to steal my thunder, she thought - irrationally, maybe, but none the less powerfully for that.

So it was arranged that Carrie and Gordon would come over on Saturday 21 June - midsummer's day. Both Peter and Sophia got to work in the intervening weeks sprucing up the garden, Peter even hiring a roller to roll the lawn when it was dry enough to do so, as well as mowing it closely. He also attacked the nettles that were growing beside the shed near the river, clearing the area between the shed and the weeping willow. Sophia got busy weeding the flower beds and rewarded herself by buying some shrubs and rose bushes and bedding them in. Now, all that remained to do was to put their hands together and pray and that it wouldn't rain on the day, or indeed the days leading up to it.

Someone was obviously listening to them, as the whole of that week was dry and quite warm. When Carrie and Gordon arrived as arranged at five o'clock, the sun was shining down from a sky across which puffy clouds were scurrying busily, and the garden looked a picture. They sat outside and drank Pimm's with lemonade, to which Peter had added all the trimmings: slices of oranges, bananas and cucumber, as well as mint from the garden and plenty of ice. Carrie - a devotee of Asian cooking - had made some samosas and spring rolls, which Sophia supplemented with some lightly salted pistachio nuts.

The conversation ranged over the normal topics, from their children and families to their work, but Gordon soon ensured that it zeroed onto the au pair. Carrie, who was just as nosey about the helper as her husband was, chided him for bringing the matter up, but Peter was happy to talk about Petsi, describing her as terrific with the children, a good cook (he deliberately toned down his praise of her culinary skills so as not to upset Sophia) and a very bubbly presence around the place.

Gordon smiled and asked Sophia what she thought about the hired help.

'Oh, she's been an absolute godsend,' said Sophia. 'She's thoroughly dependable, she's smart and she knows when to use her own initiative.'

Gordon nodded and then added, channelling his inner Jim Broadbent and doing his hammiest Spanish accent in homage to the Black Adder episode The Queen of Spain's Beard, 'But what's she like...in bed?'

Carrie nudged him in the ribs, and Sophia didn't know where to look. It was left to Peter to save the day.

'Well, she's already seen off one boyfriend, so, I imagine, pretty demanding!'

The natural and non-defensive way in which Peter dealt with Gordon's outrageous question helped defuse the situation, which Carrie ostensibly appeared to further defuse by apologising on behalf of her husband, who would have his little jokes. Sophia wasn't convinced that they weren't working in tandem (soft cop, tough cop) - an impression that was strengthened when Gordon - utterly unfazed - made his next contribution.

'Come off it, Peter! You're not telling me that you haven't even thought of banging that babe?'

This time, there was no help from Carrie. Peter had to go it alone. While he was thinking of a suitable response (using hearty laughter as a tactic to buy him some time), Gordon was at it again.

'I mean, you must at least have knocked one out thinking about her?'

'It sounds as if you have managed that, Gordon,' said Peter, pleased to be able to deflect the focus onto his interlocutor.

'Oh, yes, many times. Carrie, you have as well, haven't you?'

Carrie, looking perfectly normal and behaving in an unflustered manner, nodded enthusiastically in agreement; in stark contrast to Sophia, who started to shift in her seat. For a moment, Peter thought she was going to say, 'Anyone for tennis?'

With Sophia discomfited beyond measure, Peter knew it was up to him to bear the brunt of the attack and to issue the appropriate salvos in response.

'I suppose that's the difference between having someone living under your roof and looking on from afar. For you guys, she's this unattainable goddess, whereas for us she's a part of the family, someone with her own human needs, and strengths and weaknesses.'

Peter realised his infelicitous choice of words as soon as it had been made.

'Sure, she has her needs, Peter, and I'm sure you do your best to satisfy them!'

It got worse as Carrie chipped in - not to rein in her husband but to support him.

'Unattainable she may be for us, but you two can have her any night you want.'

Seeing that she was being dragged into the equation, Sophia blushed a deep crimson - something that could only be dealt with by an impromptu trip to the kitchen to get some more nuts. She hadn't been there long, leaning against the sink, looking out at the drive, when she heard a footfall on the stone floor and knew that Carrie had come to join her. But with what intention, she thought.

That became clear as soon as her friend put her hands on her waist, where her T-shirt met her jeans.

'We know you've both been fucking her,' she whispered in her ear. 'But, hey, we're cool with that. Not going to tell the PTA or anything. We're not even that bothered about fucking her, although that would be nice. But what we would like is to share the same intimacy with you and Peter that your au pair enjoys.'

As if to make it crystal clear what she meant, Carrie moved her hands up Sophia body until they found her breasts. She played with them through the thin material of her bra and kissed Sophia on the back of the neck, having pulled away her hair.

'Oh my god, Carrie! Does Gordon know what you're doing?'

'Oh, yes. He's the one who encouraged me. He's always known how I felt about you, ever since we were at university. I told him how it drove me mad to have the room next to yours and to hear you with a succession of men - grad students and professors - and not having the courage to knock on your door one night. You won't believe how many times I went to sleep with two fingers inside my pussy dreaming about making you come!'

'Carrie, this is all so sudden. I don't know what to say.'

'Do you really think we didn't know what you two were up to with this Pepsi, or whatever she's called, as well as with that Czech girl? You have neighbours, you know, and they talk. You haven't exactly been very discrete.'

'God, I never thought things would end up like this when we decided to ask you over.'

'I know how you lust for Gordon. Hell, we all know! He's been dying to fuck you for years - since the day he lay his eyes on you, the dirty old goat.'

'You've, um, you've been with Peter, haven't you?'

'When you were off with the fairies after you met that French lesbian, he was confused and lonely. He needed a shoulder to cry on and I was there. He came over one evening - you were abroad, Gordon was in Glasgow - and yes we made love. He's told me that the support I gave him then helped keep you two together. He was really at his wits' end.'

Sophia bit her lip and decided not to rise to the bait. She also decided that they should rejoin the others. Taking the uninvited hands from her breasts, she refilled the bowl with nuts, got a corkscrew and four wine glasses, put them all on a tray, and asked Carrie to take a bottle of Chablis from the fridge. Together they went back to join the men in the garden, as the Thames meandered by, unfazed by all the fuss that humans love to create.

Peter did the honours and soon was heading back to the kitchen to fetch another bottle. He was pretty sure that Carrie must have told Sophia about their trysts and probably also about her lust for his wife. This could develop into quite an evening, he thought, what with Gordon and Sophia's history. Maybe they would all drink so much that they'd pass out in the garden, but Peter somehow doubted that. There was too much testosterone flying about and Gordon and Carrie could both hold their drink. Oh, well, he thought, one shouldn't kick against the pricks.

For a time, conversation reverted to sensible topics, such as the latest strikes to be crippling the country, Scottish independence, the Arctic Monkeys, who had just announced a new UK tour, and - just for a change - the obscene amount of money raked in by those working in the financial industry. But, inevitably, it reverted to sex and in particular how Peter had coped when he learned that his wife swung both ways.

'Did you ever think of retaliating by getting yourself a bit of cock?' asked Carrie mischievously.

Peter sat silently for a minute, as if giving the matter serious thought, before giving his considered response.

'After I had to rebuff Gordon's advances, I was a changed man. I decided that I'd never put myself into a position again where I could be hurt so badly.'

Everyone laughed, led by Gordon -the reddest-blooded hetero you could imagine.

'I'd bought the KY Jelly and all,' he said. 'Had to sell it with a load of other stuff in a car boot sale. I got a lot of funny stares, I can tell you. No one ever bought it, even though it hadn't been taken out of the package. I suppose people thought it had been in places where the sun don't shine!'

'God, Gordon, you are disgusting,' said his wife. 'And just when you are supposed to be helping to create a sexy atmosphere.'

'You guys can get as sexy as you like," said Sophia. "I'll bring out Carrie's hors d'oeuvres and get the dinner going. Do you want me to warm them up?'

'No, I only made them earlier this afternoon," Carrie replied. "They should be fine as they are.'

TWENTY-SIX

An hour later, they were sitting down to dinner at the kitchen table, slicing easily through the sirloin steaks, which Sophia had bought from the local butcher and were as tender as many a fillet steak. The Brussels sprouts - roasted in the oven with shallots, almond flour, double cream, fresh thyme, Parmesan and Manchego - were a huge hit, and the potato wedges were done to a tee and wolfed down with tomato ketchup.

'They say,' Gordon intoned, 'that sprouts are a tremendous aphrodisiac.'

'Pull the other one, mate,' Peter replied.

'Absolutely true. Full of Vitamin B-9. Keeps the sperm count up and all that.'

'You should take a second helping, then, love,' said Carrie, 'if you are planning on performing tonight. Can't have you firing blanks again, can we?'

Much good-natured laughter ensued, with Peter suggesting that perhaps they might like to play a game of Truth or Dare after the dinner things had been cleared away.

'Hey, Peter, forget the sophomore stuff!' cried Gordon. 'I hope you haven't forgotten you owe us a sticky toffee pudding.'

'With lashings of butterscotch sauce,' added Carrie.

'Almost ready,' said Peter, who had prepared the ingredients earlier and got the pudding into the oven while Sophia was serving up the main course. 'Why don't you chaps go through to the sitting room and your dessert should be ready in fifteen minutes or so?'

'I can help with the washing-up,' said Carrie.

'No, you won't,' said Sophia, ushering her out of the kitchen. 'Peter has to work! We'll just dump it in the sink and it can wait till the morning.'

'Coffee for all?' asked Peter as they were making their way out.

'After the pud, dearest,' said Sophia. 'I'll take a jug of water through. Time for a bit of a detox before you men hit the brandy.'

While they were waiting for the dessert, Gordon picked up on the idea of Truth or Dare. He'd never played the game himself, but one of his colleagues at the advertising agency where he worked used to talk about it all the time. 'Beats throwing the car keys in a hat and picking one out at random' had been his verdict.

Sophia was understandably a little nervous, particularly in terms of the 'truth' option, while Carrie felt she couldn't lose whatever challenge she was set. No sooner had Peter come in with the sticky toffee pudding, accompanied by not only butterscotch sauce but also vanilla ice cream, than the idea was floated back to him.

'I'm definitely game. We just need to decide who goes first. I'll get a pack of cards and we'll draw for it. Highest card goes first and so on down to the lowest. Aces high!'

As luck would have it, Gordon drew a king and kicked off, opting for 'truth'. Sophia, who had drawn lowest, was tasked with asking him a question, and, after Peter had intervened to remind him that they were using 'truth' in the dictionary sense of the word rather than the advertising sense, after some deliberation, she finally settled on her question.

'Have you ever masturbated at work?'

'All the time, darling!' cried Carrie. 'He had to get his keyboard decalcified, so encrusted had it become with his droppings!'

'Yes,' replied Gordon, doing his best to ignore his wife, 'but never at my desk. I've spanked the monkey perhaps half a dozen times over the years in the loo.'

'Carrie next,' said Peter, who had the privilege of letting her loose on the assembled company.

'Dare for me,' she said with gusto.

'Okay, Carrie, I want you to do a little lap dance for Gordon. No touching, Gordon! Got it?!'

Carrie - dressed in a pink blouse and a white skirt - walked across to her husband and made a pretty decent fist of the challenge, gyrating and pouting, turning so her back was facing him and waggling her bum at him, before finally running her hands down his chest and onto his thighs, narrowly missing his genitals.

'Who says romance in marriage is dead?' said Gordon, laughing gaily.

Next up was Peter, who, perhaps unwisely, given that his instructor was Carrie, opted for 'truth'.

'Who initiated your first liaison with the au pair?'

Carrie still couldn't bring herself to use her name. Sophia stiffened and pretended to be uninterested, looking out of the window into the gloaming.

'Petsi did,' replied Peter quite calmly, looking at his wife, who refused to return his glance.

No one else saying anything, Peter thought he should continue.

'It was a Saturday morning. The children had gone to a gymnastics class with Sophia and I was working in the study. Petsi brought me in a glass of water, which she had overfilled, and, as she went to put it on the desk, some spilled onto my trousers. She said how sorry she was, and I told her it was nothing, it would dry quickly. She took out a cloth she must have had in a pocket and started to rub the stain. As she rubbed she got closer and closer to my penis, until finally she could feel it swelling up under the cloth. She told me to stand up, took my trousers down, told me my boxers were wet too and took them off as well. Before I knew what was happening, she had my penis in her mouth. I knew I was going to come. I had fantasised about this sort of scenario for however long she had been with us - perhaps a month. Maybe more. She told me we had plenty of time and led me upstairs to her room, where we made love.'

'Fucking hell!' said Gordon. 'Fucking hell!'

'Okay, Gordon,' said Peter. 'Your turn to instruct Sophia.'

'Wowee!' he cried. 'Simple as! I want you to kiss Carrie.'

Sophia fidgeted nervously and looked back out into the garden, which was now shrouded in darkness.

'And I think you want to too!'

Since they were both sitting on the sofa, it wasn't a long distance that the blonde woman had to cover to reach the brunette, one year her senior. Tentatively, she put her hands on Carrie's arms and pecked her on the mouth.

'Call that a kiss?' roared Gordon. 'I want to see a bit of tongue!'

Sophia returned to the fray, still fumbling about like a virgin who is about to lose it for ever. She popped her tongue out as if she wanted to dry it, but before she could retract it, Carrie had swallowed it in her mouth. At the same time, her hands sought out Sophia's tits, massaging them vigorously. Before Sophia could protest, her hands had found their way under the blonde's T-shirt, then under her bra, so that in an instant she was rubbing her nipples, which, despite themselves, had become engorged.