Sylvie's Choice

This story is the third in a series published on Literotica about a lady called Sylvie. Sylvie's Gift is the first episode and Sylvie's Quest is the second. Sylvie's Choice can also be read as a stand-alone story. It features many characters from my previous stories which are listed in chronological order on my author's page.

******

PROLOGUE:

Sylvie took her usual seat in the cocktail lounge at the Winchester in Park Lane. It was in an alcove in the far corner -- dark and discrete. Billy would always ensure that the table was empty when she entered, and she saw him at the bar -- ever watchful -- ready to intervene if she received any uninvited attention.

She chose the sparkling cherry red mini tonight. It was short and low cut showing off her luscious thighs, bare arms and the glistening promise of her free breasts. She wore no bra or panties, and the heels were tall, slender and nude, blending with her golden-brown flesh. Her nails and lips matched her dress and as she sat and crossed her smooth shining legs, she felt with pleasure the soft deep velvet pile on her depilated sex -- she was ready to go again.

Tonight, it was one of her regulars, over from the States. Let's call him the CEO of "Chatterjax" -- the latest social media sensation. There would be no hassle regarding money - her portion of the fee was already in her bank account - and she could look forward to a week of good living, expensive gifts, a night at the opera... and kink:

He might want to share her -- Billy would arrange suitable partners -- male, female or both.

He might want her to be a Dominatrix -- she loved that!

He might want to show her off at some private members club -- that was always an eye opener!

It might be an anal week or an oral week or a vanilla week or a phantasmagoria of all three.

Whatever the outcome, the thrill of the unknown made her tremor as she waited, anticipating that first glass of fizz in the jacuzzi in his suite when he took her for the first time.

He was always so controlled and calculating. Her orgasms came freely with him without any effort.

He was her favourite, and the most rewarding in so many ways!

On cue a tall familiar figure appeared in the doorway. Sylvie's heart leapt and Billy downed his "Old Fashioned", gave her a nod and became invisible.

Then something very odd occurred...

From nowhere a shadow passed across her table and she shivered as the strange and disturbing darkness drifted into the wall behind her. Her eyes opened wide in surprise, but she managed to control her trembling and restore her equilibrium before rising to welcome her client.

*****

LONDON -- FIVE MONTHS EARLIER:

Tim had called for her and Sylvie was at Liverpool Street Station desperate for a cab and out of her mind. It was months since Tim had gone and now, suddenly, he was back after so long away from her. There were no explanations -- just a brief message asking her to meet him at the flat.

London was wet and drab after Norfolk. The cottage and wood had been golden in the early autumn sunshine, but London was as grey as death as the cab weaved through the traffic crowded streets towards Islington. For her the city was full of bad memories.

She rang the bell expecting him to be in, but there was no answer, and she dug deep in her bag to find the key. The flat was stale and musty so she flung wide the curtains and opened all the windows, despite the rain and cold.

She saw an envelope on the old mantelpiece. Rushing over to rip it open, she quickly scanned the letter and read through a set of instructions. There was nothing else -- no excuses, no explanation and no apology.

She still loved Tim and desperately wanted to see him, but she knew he was playing one of his games. The letter included the time he would be arriving home - 9.00PM this evening - and the clothes she was to wear. She walked into the bedroom and saw three boxes sitting on the bed, carefully set out, with a red rose lying on each.

Not again -- not now -- she was tired -- she wanted answers - a sincere "sorry" for the hurt -- surely, he didn't expect a fuck -- he had been gone over a year for pity's sake!!

It was early evening and already a dusky deadening foggy gloom was settling over the rooftops when she closed the windows and drew the curtains to shut out the dark and the noise of the city. She ran a hot bath and found the old familiar bottle of Scotch and poured herself a stiff one.

Her anger subsided in the cosy warmth.

He was home and that was enough.

Her love was still strong and to resume their old life together would be wonderful. It was so hard living on a pittance - she looked forward to pampering herself again.

Of course, there was the Lyn problem - Sylvie dreaded the consequences when she found out about Tim - but that was for later.

She decided to please him.

Explanations could wait.

Don't spoil his homecoming.

Give him a good time and see where it goes.

She towelled herself dry, lit some scented candles and after switching on the low lights poured herself another large Scotch. It was time to open those boxes.

The first box contained a flesh-coloured sheer body stocking. This would be her only item of clothing and she laughed out loud -- this was so Tim! She carefully eased her body into the fragile garment, and, after some careful smoothing, stared at herself in the bedroom mirror.

Yes -- Tim would love this!

Old memories began to surface, and she smiled at her reflection.

She had gained a few pounds in the last twelve months, but her softer curves looked invitingly lush.

The garment clung to every contour of her body and was fitted around her waist to snugly enclose her breasts and provide a little uplift. She smoothed the material over her hips and turned to look at the profile of her bum to ensure there were no wrinkles. The sheer stretched over her flesh like a second skin -- her feet were enclosed, and the sleeves were held taut by loops attached to the ends of each wrist which she passed between her thumb and forefinger.

It was shockingly transparent apart from a delicately embroidered floral pattern around each nipple and a similar decoration at her crotch which covered her depilated vulva lips. Otherwise, her nude body was on display through the sheer.

The second box contained a pair of red patent leather heels with red silk ribbons. She slipped these on and crossed the ribbons around each ankle before tying them at the back in a neat bow.

Finally, she opened the third smaller box and found a simple crimson red ribbon choker to match her shoes and a pair of beautiful, expensive, long red ruby earrings which hung loose, down over her cheeks.

There was a third note: she was to wear light red eye shadow with black eyeliner and matching lipstick - she would find make-up and perfume in the mahogany cabinet in the bathroom. This was new -- normally she would please herself. The perfume she recognised from Vietnam as one of Tim's favourites.

Having completed her toilet she read his last note which she found in the cabinet. She was to sit on the sofa in the sitting room, fully prepared and facing the door, at 9.00PM precisely.

She was inevitably warming to the game -- her anxieties were fading, and she poured a third Scotch before settling into position with five minutes to spare.

She was excited.

It would be a night to remember!!

*****

She heard the latch on the front door and Tim's voice in the hall.

Something was wrong. She could here other voices, male and female.

The sitting room door crashed open, and Tim quickly closed it behind him.

He looked awful -- his eyes were hollow, his face was ashen and his hair was grey -- he looked thin and wasted. His clothes hung on him like a scarecrow.

Sylvie stood up in horror. She was dumb with shock -- wide eyed and frightened. He was another person -- a stranger -- unknown to her.

He rushed to her, and she backed away:

"You must help me.

You still love me?

Please do this for me.

I promise, you will not come to any harm.

He is with his wife.

Please help me.

I beg you.

Don't let me down Sylvie."

Before she was able to calm, Tim was ushering an elderly oriental man and a slightly younger, glamorously dark woman into the sitting room.

Tim was in distress and his voice broke as he attempted to introduce Sylvie to his guests.

The man interrupted:

"My dear, there is really no need to be alarmed. May I introduce my wife Mrs Lily Chan and I am John Chan, an old acquaintance of your young man."

Mrs Chan then joined the conversation with soothing words:

"Please do not be frightened. You are a beautiful young woman, and, by your welcome, you show that you love your man very much."

John Chan offered his hand and Sylvie automatically offered hers. His palm was soft and gentle:

"My dear young lady, we are honoured to receive such a greeting. Please do not hide your body, I beg you. We say in my country that it is not wrong or shameful, if you have beauty, to show it to others."

Sylvie flushed with embarrassment at her exposure and Tim deliberately avoided her searching eyes as he asked her to prepare tea for their guests. She attempted to compose herself - she had no choice - but the man and the woman were behaving impeccably, with a re-assuring correctness and propriety that seemed to regard her disgraceful predicament as being perfectly normal. While her first instinct had been to dash to the bedroom to collect her robe and cover up, Tim's obvious distress and the Chan's behaviour persuaded her to continue to play her role for his sake.

She found the Flower tea from Yunnan and began the ritual that Tim had taught her.

Mrs Chan came to the kitchen bringing a large red bag:

"Come my child, let the men talk about business while we prepare some food and enjoy ourselves."

Mrs Chan took several small parcels from her bag and carefully removed the wrapping to reveal small bowls of delicate white porcelain each carrying a small number of eastern delicacies which she began to set out on a tray.

She offered Sylvie a sample and the taste was delicious, reminding Sylvie of many happy Hong Kong nights with Tim when their relationship was young.

Mrs Chan spoke softly:

"Nice -- yes?

They are fresh - I prepared them this morning."

Her tone suddenly became more urgent:

"Now please Sylvie -- may I call you that?

Yes -- good.

Please -- you must listen to me carefully -- I beg you - do you understand?"

Sylvie nodded.

"My husband is a powerful man, my child, and I am afraid that your lover owes him many thousands of dollars. It is a difficult situation.

Now Mr Chan is a patient man, and a good man but the time is coming when he will turn bad.

I do not know the depth of the love you have for your friend, but you must help him if you can, and I know you can do this. I have seen your beauty with my own eyes, and I know that only a woman of experience would display herself as you do."

Sylvie looked away and blushed up again as Mrs Chan continued:

"Mr Chan is a connoisseur of woman. I live with it every day of my life and your friend knows it also. He is clever. I can see this.

But I must tell you that Mr Chan is for many years, as you say in English, impotent -- unable to make love anymore to a woman.

He delights in what he sees but he never touches. This is his pleasure.

He has had many lovers in his life and is a good man to his women. You should not be afraid of him - he will not hurt you.

... but you wish to help your friend -- yes?

Then you must show Mr Chan a good time -- yes -- you understand -- I know.

Now let us finish here.

Mr Chan is waiting."

Sylvie was silent as Mrs Chan took over the tea making.

Sylvie faced a dilemma -- so this was Tim's "game" -- to offer her to John Chan to alleviate his debt.

To refuse would condemn Tim in ways she could not yet understand, and despite his awful state, he was still Tim -- the man she loved and the man to whom she owed everything.

She believed Mrs Chan and trusted her own instincts. There was no threat to her, but Tim was in danger, and she must continue the charade to get rid of the Chans and make him well again.

When all was ready, both women returned to the sitting room.

Mrs Chan asked Tim if he would select some music on his sound system and he fumbled around in a panic before finding some slow mood music. Mrs Chan scornfully expressed her disapproval, and she suggested a Shakira Latino selection which was soon steaming out of Tim's expensive speakers.

She turned to Sylvie:

"Come Sylvie, dance for us."

Sylvie looked across at Tim silently imploring him to release her, but he sat impassive, staring vacantly into his teacup. She saw the expectant face of Mr Chan and the smiles of encouragement from Mrs Chan and forced herself to step forward to the large Persian rug which sat in the middle of the room between the fireplace and the Chans on the sofa.

She remembered the slow salsa routine from her girl band at school which was banned by the headmistress for being too suggestive.

Well, she thought, that should be enough.

She turned and stood to face them legs apart and straight, with her hands on her hips, waiting for the beat.

She swayed her hips slowly and seductively to the rhythm, raised her arms high and began to dance. Afraid to look up, she gazed down at her body and her heavy breasts gently swaying beneath the sheer. The routine started well -- once learnt, never forgotten - and being watched was beginning to warm her.

Mr Chan methodically appraised her as she danced. He lingered on her made-up oriental face and her raven hair. His eyes passed down to her tits where they paused for several minutes in appreciation. He admired her legs as she swung to the slow Latin beat and finally settled on her crotch, giving a knowing smile to Mrs Chan when he saw the swelling of her sex when she spread her thighs as the music became more urgent.

Sylvie withdrew into a trance. Her arousal was unexpected given the circumstances. She was excited by the attention and wanted to save Tim and protect him from harm. At the same time, she was careful to strike the right tone -- subtly suggestive rather than bumping and grinding like a tart.

She felt Mrs Chan at her shoulder, asking her to turn and face the fireplace with her back to Mr Chan. As she slowly sashayed around, knowing her naked bum would be on display through the transparent sheer, she opened her legs and bent her knees, slowly swaying to the beat.

Mr Chan dropped his eyes from her red ribboned bare neck, down her back to her rounded arse and the seductive gap at the top of her parted thighs which silhouetted the profile of her blooming cunt. He allowed himself to dwell there for a long time deep in thought.

After a final scan down the beautiful curves of her sheer clad legs, he nodded to Mrs Chan, who asked Tim to stop the music.

He congratulated Sylvie.

"My dear, that was wonderful. You did put on a fine show for us. You remind me of an English girl I knew many years ago. English girls have such nice full figures when they are young, and they always like to show them off."

He turned to Tim:

"I'm glad you invited us tonight. Seeing a lovely woman like Sylvie is always extremely pleasurable. I will remember this for a long time. Please call a cab for us and I will see you at our rooms at 9.00am tomorrow."

He kissed Sylvie's hand and Mrs Chan smiled at Sylvie and nodded her approval as Mr Chan turned to leave.

Tim escorted them both down to the lobby.

When he returned Sylvie ran into his arms and the tears began to flow.

She helped him into the bedroom, stripped him and got him under the hot shower. After removing her heels, she joined him, body stocking and all. With her sharp nails she tore the sheer from her breasts and ripped away the delicate embroidery covering her cunt. Falling to her knees she soaped his flaccid prick before taking it between her lips and he immediately burst into her mouth despite his lack of wood. Taken by surprise she still swallowed the small amount of cum, as she had always done, to re-affirm her undying love for him.

He collapsed and she supported him, still wet, on to the bed where he soon fell into a deep sleep.

She was disappointed but it would get better, wouldn't it??

With a shudder she divined the future.

She placed the crumpled and torn piece of sheer into the bin along with all her hopes.

******

As the days passed following that shocking night with the Chans, Sylvie nurtured Tim and he began to recover. She fed him up, bought him a new wardrobe and gave him treats such as a meal out or a trip to the theatre. He was still withdrawn and uncommunicative, but the old Tim was slowly returning -- growing in confidence with flashes of the old humour and the sparkiness she loved so much. She demanded no explanations or justifications for his long absence or his behaviour regarding John Chan -- that could wait -- but his lack of desire for her was now self-evident and this worried her.

He shied away from any physical contact and when she attempted to make love, he was cold as ice. Her libido had been sharpened in the Studio with Lyn and Ray but now there was nothing. She loved Tim and was devoted to restoring him, but she needed emotional sustenance and sexual excitement, and she could feel her frustration beginning to build.

She decided to force the issue -- being careful to assign no blame or responsibility -- just to get to the root of the problem.

After a snowy winter visit to shop in Covent Garden, she cooked his favourite steak and then sat him down to talk:

"Why don't you want to touch me honey?

What's wrong -- please tell me.

Don't you want me anymore?

What's the matter -- how can I help if you won't talk to me?"

Suddenly he gave way and broke down.

Sylvie was shocked - she had never seen him cry.

She mothered him and took him to her like a child. He lay his head on her chest and she stroked his hair:

"Just tell me what you want baby..."

Through his sobs it all came out:

"I can't do it -- I can't love you again until..."

Sylvie soothed:

"Until what honey -- it's Ok -- just tell me..."

Tim continued through the tears:

"I can't do it -- I caught something in the Far East and the cure has screwed me -- oh fuck fuck fuck -- I'm so sorry..."

She sat back -- at last -- yes -- it all became clear.

She could not blame him for being unfaithful -- she had succumbed to Lyn and Ray and had nearly given herself to the village boys. What's done is done. She probed some more and found that Tim had secretly visited a private consultant in London who confirmed he was clean and healthy.

So, this was a mental block -- a guilt thing -- she could work on that.

She continued:

"I understand honey and I still love you. What can I do? Just tell me."

She coarsened in a first attempt to arouse him. Talking dirty had always worked with Tim:

"Do you want to fuck me in the ass -- you always loved that?

Do you want to come in my mouth -- you can if you want?

Shall I dress up -- I know what you like?

Please baby - let me try to help you.

Just tell me what you want, and Sylvie will give it to you."

Tim suddenly sat up and gathered her hands in his with a wild look in his eye:

"Would you really -- no -- but really?"

Tim suddenly came alive -- he was back -- it was working:

"Do you remember that night with Jake?

When he made love to you and I watched -- that was just the most exciting..."

Sylvie nodded, encouraging Tim to continue.

"You came so much -- you were insatiable - if you did that again then maybe..."

Sylvie's mind was racing:

"... but Jake's gone back home -- he's not here."