Sophia's Choice

ONE

As usual, it was Carrie that Sophia turned to when she needed advice about her help in the house. And, as usual, Carrie gave it knowing that Sophia would ignore it if it conflicted with what she had already decided to do.

'Come off it, Sophia; if you have that blonde bombshell living in the house under the same roof as Peter, do you really expect he'll act like a choirboy? I mean, that Czech girl was clearly in love with him, but at least she had a place to go home to every night.'

Sophia had never told her best friend about Myška, and, as far as she knew, Carrie didn't know about the integral part she had played in their lives for the past two years.

'Oh, I think you're exaggerating as usual, Carrie.'

'Well, I never told you this, but, one evening, when I was taking your kids home after they'd had tea with us, I rang the doorbell and had to wait quite a while. I should add that this was when you were on one of your jaunts abroad. When it was finally opened, it was opened by that Czech girl, who was looking really flushed. I was about to ask if Peter was in, when he came strolling down the stairs - casual as you like. The little thing darted off into the kitchen, followed by your kids, and we chatted a while. But I could never get the feeling out of my head that something was going on between them. There, I've said it!'

'Carrie, I've never heard so much nonsense. Peter hardly took the slightest bit of notice when she was around. The arrangement, anyway, was that she would leave as soon as whichever of us got home first was back. He'd probably just got back - that was why he was upstairs - changing before he relieved her.'

'Well, call it my female intuition if you like, but I wouldn't want a young Swede around my house - especially not when Gordon was feeling horny.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake, Carrie, Myška was a lesbian, if you really must know. She lived with a Hungarian girlfriend. They were inseparable.'

'Lesbian, schmesbian, my dear! Young people today will cross boundaries as easily as you and I cross the street. I hope she never hit on

you

!'

'Oh, Carrie, you do have such a fertile imagination. You missed your vacation, you know. You should have been a sex therapist.'

'So, who's it to be? The Moldavan or the Swede?'

'I haven't decided yet. No really, I haven't. I spoke to Anna on the phone the other day and we had a long chat.'

'And?'

'And, well, she sounded a little too severe, given what the children are used to with Peter and me, and of course Myška.'

'So, it's Miss Scandinavia!'

'Nothing has been settled yet. We spoke on the phone yesterday and she's coming for an interview tomorrow. I'll discuss it with Peter and we'll take it from there.'

'Done deal! You just be careful that you don't become the Number Two blonde in the house.'

'Carrie, p-lease. We don't even know what she looks like yet. For all we know she'll be a brunette like that Whatshername from Abba.'

'Anna-Frid. Well, my Gordon thinks she was hotter than Agnetha.'

'Well, good for him. Maybe he can come over tomorrow afternoon and help me choose.'

'Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be round like a shot when the new help's been installed.'

After she had said goodbye to Carrie, Sophia had an uneasy feeling about something she'd said, which at first she couldn't put her finger on. It was only when she was preparing dinner for Peter that she realised what it was. Why would Carrie be ringing on her doorbell in the first place? She (Sophia) had been home many times when her children were brought back by Gordon or Carrie, and each time they had just drawn up by the kerb, sounded the horn and waited until the door opened and the kids were safely inside.

'That's it!' she thought. 'Carrie was hoping to have a bit of time alone with Peter. The kids would have shot upstairs to have a bath, which was guaranteed to keep them occupied for half an hour. She must be carrying on with my husband behind my back! But of course I could be overreacting. Maybe I want to think they're up to something because of that time I lingered on their doorstep after an alcohol-fuelled evening and, right in front of Carrie and Peter, snogged Gordon. Peter has never mentioned it but of course he would think about it and, well, I'm hardly in a strong bargaining position when it comes to throwing accusations around.'

Sophia then thought about the last few times they had met up as a four, and she realised she had missed some signs. Peter and Carrie staying behind in the kitchen to do the washing up, Peter and Carrie going upstairs to check on the children. And yes, there was that time that Carrie showed a sudden interest in ducks and Peter took her down to the river at twilight to show her where they settled down for the night.

Sophia filed away this information, these insights for later and contented herself by teasing Peter that evening about her interview with Petsi the following day, asking him if he wanted her to extend the interview by an hour or so, so he could form a first-hand impression of her suitability. 'For the job,' she quickly added; then again, 'her

proper

job - looking after the children and doing the shopping, cooking and cleaning.'

Peter wasn't inclined to rise to the bait, telling his wife that he had every confidence in her abilities, both as an interviewer and as an instructor in the domestic arena.

'I know that you like to adopt a hands-on approach,' he said. 'All the Swedes I know - and most of the Finns I know are Swedes - are, yes, very cool on the outside, but, you know, still waters run deep. There is a lot of fire underneath, as that unpronounceable volcano that erupted in Iceland a few years ago showed.'

'Oh, Peter, you do talk a lot of baloney. For all we know, she looks like the back of a bus.'

Sophia was home at around 2 o'clock the following day after working a half day. After Pat, the temporary nanny, had left (earlier than usual, by prior agreement), Sophia busied herself with this and that, watering plants that didn't really need watering and dusting stuff that Pat always kept spotless anyway. Realising she was still wearing her work gear, she chastised herself and went up to change into something more suitable. First, though, she had a shower, allowing a finger to slip inside her pussy as she fantasised about seducing the new help.

'Fuck it!' she thought. 'I haven't even met the poor girl yet. And she's probably no oil painting anyway.'

After she got out of the shower, she vacillated over her choice of clothing, trying on various things and then discarding them for being too sexy or too formal or too ordinary or too frumpy. She finally decided on a white blouse with a fawn knee-length skirt, plus two-inch heels, even though this was hardly the sort of thing she usually wore indoors, and she never wore shoes in the house. She couldn't decide whether to wear her hair up or down, eventually settling on a ponytail. She added a bit of lipstick and rouge for luck.

When the bell rang at a couple of minutes before four, her heart missed a beat. Resisting the temptation to peep out of the kitchen window, she went to the front door, touched up her hair, smoothed her skirt and finally opened it. In front of her stood a vision - a vision of statuesque beauty along the lines of Ingrid Bergman. Her smile lit up the whole street.

Sophia invited Petsi in, offering to take her coat - an offer she accepted. She noticed that her hands - her own hands - were trembling, and tried to hide it by making some fatuous remarks and laughing rather too loudly at her own attempted witticisms. Petsi followed her into the kitchen, entirely at her ease. Once they had seated themselves at the table, Sophia made a real effort to control herself and started by asking Petsi if she had been able to find the place easily enough.

'God!' Sophia thought - not listening to the girl very closely. 'This is a seriously beautiful woman. Why does she want to be au pairing? Was that a degree in environmental science she was just talking about? Heavens, she can't be any older than 22, 23 tops. She wants to develop herself as a person before she makes the next move on her "life path". She comes from

Malmö

. Have I seen

The Bridge

? Yes, I think so, or was it

The Killing

? Very dark, whatever it was, and all the Swedes (or was it Danes?) seemed so miserable. And their houses! So minimalist, with all those greys and pastel shades. Not my thing at all. Who's conducting this interview? I think I'd better tell her a bit more about her duties.'

And so she did, while Petsi listened with a smile on her exquisite face. She had long golden hair - lighter than Sophia's - which she wore in a ponytail, mirroring Sophia. She was taller than Sophia by several inches, with an athletic build, and she was wearing a lumberjack style shirt and blue jeans, which were tucked into brown leather boots. Petsi had offered to take them off at the door but Sophia had told her there was no need. She realised it was because she liked the look of them on her. She seemed so powerful, like a Valkyrie. She could imagine her in a helmet wielding a sword, or was it a bow and arrow? No - that would be Jennifer Lawrence.

She spoke English with a typical Swedish accent - rather flat, with bits of ups and downs at unexpected places. She could cook many different types of cuisine, having attended a culinary school one summer during university. She wasn't exactly a vegetarian, but preferred to eat only meat which she knew the provenance of, preferably that which had been hunted or, failing that, killed humanely. Sophia asked her if she knew of places locally that she could buy from with a good conscience and she said she could easily find out. She was currently living with her boyfriend in Wandsworth and he could help her bring her stuff over.

Sophia, naturally enough, was interested in this boyfriend but knew better than to ask too many questions. Petsi seemed happy enough to talk about him, anyway: he was also Swedish, his name was Ulf, he had trained as an engineer but was working for a builder in Battersea who specialised in renovations. He was apparently a very sought after carpenter - a trade he had picked up from his father and grandfather - who appeared to be working in England in a not totally legitimate capacity, which required him to leave the country every six months. The plan was for him to stay on in London for as long as Petsi was there, which would mean another 18 months, if she was offered this post.

When Petsi offered to show Sophia a photo of her boyfriend, the older woman pretended indifference, offering to return the favour by showing some recent photos of her family. Petsi happily showed her three or four pictures of her man on a trip to some amusement park, smiling at the camera and flexing his muscles in his sleeveless T-shirt. Remarking on how handsome he was in a way that delighted the innocent Swedish girl, Sophia quickly pulled out her phone and shared a few photos of her family. Petsi made all the right noises about the children but remained strangely silent about Peter. Observing her carefully, Sophia noticed a faint blush suffuse her cheeks.

It seemed like they'd only been talking for five minutes when Sophia looked at the clock and saw that it was 25 past four, which meant that the children would be back in five minutes. She apologised to Petsi for not having offered her a drink and made good the oversight by suggesting a cup of tea. Petsi said she would prefer a herbal tea if Sophia had one and settled on a camomile one. Sophia made herself her usual Earl Grey with a splash of milk. No sooner had she sat down again than the bell rang and Sophia was off to let the children in. They were particularly boisterous this afternoon, although this had nothing to do with Petsi's presence, which their mother hadn't told them about. They rushed into the kitchen to grab a glass of milk and an Oreo, taking very little notice of the visitor. Sophia let them calm down a bit before getting them to sit at the table and introducing them to their potential new nanny.

While six and a half year old Ollie was keeping his own counsel at his end of the table, Chloe (nearly five), sitting opposite Petsi, was sizing the newcomer up in her own way. Sophia could tell the verdict was not far away from being delivered and waited. As did Petsi herself - the very epitome of unflusteredness.

'Your hair is very yellow,' Chloe said. 'Is it real?'

'Yes, it is very yellow,' Petsi answered. 'Would you like to touch it?'

'Yes, please,' said Chloe, clambering down from her chair, as her brother looked on, while pretending not to.

'It's very soft,' Chloe said, as she ran her little fingers through the Swede's hair.

Meanwhile, Sophia was struggling to stop imagining that it was she who was running her fingers through the ice maiden's locks. She took the opportunity provided by Petsi being otherwise involved with her daughter to check her out properly. Her face was almost perfect: a high forehead, smallish ears, trimmed arched eyebrows, a perfectly proportioned straight nose, sculpted cheeks, luscious full lips, an elfin chin and blue, blue eyes. Her neck was slender and smooth and, though hidden by her shirt, her breasts were full and, Sophia felt certain, firm. She couldn't make out any trace of nipple, but in her mind's eye she saw two pink nubs swelling under her touch - pleading with her to take them in her mouth and set her on the path to orgasm.

The first thing Ollie said after Petsi had left the house was simply, 'She's very beautiful, Mummy.'

Sophia asked him if he thought she would be a good nanny and he said she might be as good as Mickey (his pet name for Myška) one day. From Ollie, that was praise indeed. Sophia knew she didn't have to ask Chloe, as she had been walking on air since the willowy blonde left. Peter had messaged to say he'd be back late - seven at the earliest - so Sophia got the bath ready for her children, saw them into it and then went along the corridor to her bedroom, where she unzipped her dress, lay on the bed and set to work to bring herself off. Her mind was so full of images of what she'd like to do to Petsi that for a long time she couldn't focus on just one. Knowing time was against her, she practised a bit of self-discipline and imagined Petsi walking through the door in a silk robe, coming up to her mistress, divesting herself of the robe and avidly licking Sophia's soaking pussy. Fingers working overtime, it wasn't long before she climaxed, groaning in spite of herself. She wasn't through a minute too soon, as, no sooner than she had zipped herself up and got off the bed, she heard the sound of her kids exiting the bathroom and making their way to their room, where they would require her help getting ready for bed.

TWO

Peter was of course very keen to hear the result of the interview. In the event, he heard it first not from his wife but from his children, who were already treating Petsi as if she was their new nanny.

'She's very beautiful,' said Ollie, still transported by visions of the lady at the kitchen table.

Chloe breathlessly told her father all about her yellow hair and her blue eyes, asking him why she couldn't have blue eyes too. Peter attempted to tell them a bedtime story, but it was a struggle from beginning to end. They fidgeted, they wouldn't listen and when he finished the story, they didn't ask a ton of questions as they normally did. So, instead, he played a game of I-spy, which worked to some extent at least in calming their minds and readying them for sleep. When he finally left them, they were still awake and clearly keen to talk with each other in that serious way children have about the afternoon's events.

When Peter joined Sophia in the sitting room, she was drinking a glass of white wine - unusual for her on a weekday - and Peter joined her with a beer of his own before they sat down for dinner.

'They are raving about her,' he said. 'I think Ollie's in love.'

'She looks like a Nordic goddess,' said Sophia simply.

'Did you offer her the job?'

'I told her I needed to speak with you first. But it's hers if she wants it.'

'What did you learn about her?'

'She has a boyfriend called Ulf, who's an engineer but working as a carpenter for a builder in Battersea. They live together in Wandsworth. She told me some other stuff but I can't recall all the details now. I guess you'll find out soon enough.'

'You think she'll be good with the children?'

'Oh, yes, she told me she had a younger sister, who she helped look after. She's very serene, Peter. Noting seems to fluster her.'

'What was she wearing?'

'Oh, Peter, you'll never change. Well, not a low-cut blouse or a mini skirt if that's what you want to hear. She was wearing a lumberjack style shirt and jeans.'

Sophia decided to make no mention of the boots that had fired her imagination so powerfully.

'Well, I say you phone her in the morning and tell her the job is hers. Sounds like she'll fit in beautifully.'

'Carrie thinks I'd be crazy to let her roam around the house with you,' said Sophia, looking carefully at Peter for a reaction when she mentioned her friend's name.

There was none.

'Now, now, I've probably got more to be worried about than you have. You know, the post-Veronique Sophia is a wild and dangerous beast. Who knows what you'll be getting up to when I'm travelling or out with the lads?'

'Look, Peter, I really think we ought to have an arrangement. Neither of us fools around with Petsi without first clearing it with the other.'

'That sounds fair enough to me. What about if she hits on one of us? Are we meant to rebuff her and hurt her feelings?'

'Oh my god, Peter, that's such a male thing to say. I scarcely think this well brought up young woman - hardly more than a girl - is going to start as you put it "hitting" on us. Let's see that for what it is: just one of your fantasies.'

'Okay, well, what if one of us is alone with her, the kids are overnighting it somewhere, one of us is away on business, and she comes into the sitting room wearing only a see-though negligeé and asks us if there is anything she can do for us before she goes to bed?'

'For god's sake, Peter, grow up! Are you willing to abide by our little pact or not?'

'Sure, but all bets are off if she's up for a threesome, right?'

Throwing a cushion at him, Sophia made her way upstairs, telling Peter to wash the glasses, tidy up and heat up the meal Pat had left for them in the oven. Chuckling to himself, he did the chores, but didn't bother turning on the oven. When he got upstairs, he stripped naked and finding Sophia at the washbasin in the bathroom, rubbed his rapidly expanding penis against the small of her back.

'It's much better than a strap-on,' he whispered in her ear, while grabbing her tits through her blouse.

As she stood there attending to her face, he removed her skirt and pulled down her panties. Reaching around he undid her blouse and threw it on the floor, where it was soon joined by her bra.

'You've been masturbating to images of her, haven't you?' he said softly.

'Fuck you!' Sophia responded, leaning back against his hardness.

'You read my mind exactly,' he said, grabbing her ass with both hands and leading her to their bed.

'How do you want it?' he asked, as she sat on the edge of the bed, playing with his cock.

'I want you to fuck me as if I was that Swedish girl. I want you to talk to me as you would to her. I want you to make me come as you want to make her come.'

'First things first. Suck my dick and prepare me for your tight young cunt.'

'Yes, Mr Collins,' said Sophia, doing a pretty decent impression of a Swedish accent.

'Am I bigger than Ulf?'