Sylvia’s Switch

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‘Size twelve, madam? Certainly, madam,’ I said, obediently, metaphorically raising my eyebrows, and wondering whether I should a) try and pass off a 14 as a twelve, or, b) try and squeeze the woman’s optimistic frame into the most generous twelve in the store. A common dilemma.

She ended up buying the dress, squeezing herself into a twelve, and enjoying the experience, then, as she collected up her belongings, ready to make the transaction, she suddenly asked, ‘How’d you get that black eye?’ – an inevitable question I’d been dreading. The words of the Vega song came tumbling into my mind – ‘Please don’t ask me any more!’ – and a tear rolled down my cheek, I wiped it angrily away.

I sat in the stockroom after the customer had gone, to compose myself.

‘The bastard!’ I thought, ‘the drunken bastard!’ It had been good, the sex, once upon a time. Promising. Yes, that was the word, promising. We had watched a video of ‘O’ together, been turned on by its elegant sado-masochism, both of us, said we’d give it a try. But Jason wasn’t ‘Sir Stephen’ – not by a long chalk. Long and the short of it, he couldn’t hold his drink, and he was insanely jealous of me. He’d come home, like the night before, shit-faced, and I was for it. Next evening, he was all tears and apologies, red roses, the lot – and a good fuck, but it was getting so that I had to simulate my orgasms, and that wouldn’t do. Oh no, Sylvia, I thought, that won’t do at all.

I stuck my head under the tap, and, when I looked up, in the washroom mirror, I didn’t like what I saw. Apart from the shiner, which, in truth, wasn’t that bad, and would disappear in a day or two, my hair, normally a long glossy chestnut mane, was straggly and dull. I looked at my watch. It was ten to one, and I didn’t think my boss would mind if I shut the door early for once, and went home to sort myself out.

Ten minutes home on my scooter, and I got straight under the shower, where I dallied for fully ten minutes, letting the warm jets bathe my body in their soothing stream. I gave my hair a thorough shampoo and conditioning, then sat naked and went to town on my make-up, doing my very best to conceal the damaged blood-vessels around my eye.

When I slipped back into my bra and panties, I suddenly felt hungry, and heated up a lasagne I found in the fridge. As I sat and ate it, I started to feel better.

Come on, Sylvia, I thought, what are you made of? I chucked the pots in the sink. Jason would be home before me – he could wash up, fuck him!

I went through to the bedroom of our little apartment and started to put on the blouse I had worn that morning, and then had second thoughts. I unclipped my bra, and slipped it off my shoulders, then put on the silk blouse, knowing that the feel of silk next to my naked breasts acted like a tonic. I stepped into my pleated cotton skirt, then decided on a change of footwear as well, discarding the ‘sensible’ sandals I had worn that morning, in favour of a pair of strappy stilettos I knew made my legs look good. I always felt better when I looked good – didn’t everyone?

Back at the boutique, the phone rang, as I was turning the ‘Open’ sign. It was Susana, the Spanish owner of the store, and quite a lot more like it.

‘Sylvia, darling!’ she said, ‘I was so worried. I called just before lunch, and there was no answer!’

‘I’m very sorry, Susana,’ I lied, ‘I had a dental appointment, and had to close five minutes early.’

‘No, darling, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t checking up on you, really I wasn’t. I just wanted to tell you I’m on the way to see you this afternoon. Just so long as you are alright……..’

Susana had always been very good to me, and trusted me implicitly. She was a wonderful person to work for, and I looked forward to her visits, but now rushed into the store-room, to check myself in the mirror, and tried again to cover my black eye as best I could, cursing Jason roundly as I worked away with the make-up.

At four o’clock sharp, a taxi pulled up outside, and in walked Susana, bringing with her a cloud of Guerlain. She was tallish, probably pushing forty, marginally taller than my 5’7″, fashionably slim, with short very dark brown hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, and the longest lashes I had ever seen. Her features were classically beautiful, and she knew it, which was always apparent in her bearing. She now wore a soft maroon leather trouser suit, moulding her body like a second skin, and under the jacket of which a white silk blouse could be seen. Her height was accentuated by black patent heels, and the only jewellery she wore were tiny pearl ear-rings.

She embraced me warmly, congratulating me on my sales figures, which, in truth, had been very good lately, then held me by the shoulders, at arms’ length.

‘But, Sylvia darling, who did that to you? You can’t let it happen, you know.’

Tears rose unbidden to my eye-corners, but I didn’t reply. The nearness of Susana was having an silivri escort effect on me that I didn’t want to analyse, and I suddenly wanted her to enfold me in her arms. Did I want mothering? No, I didn’t! This was something new, an emotion foreign to me, as I looked into Susana’s dark eyes. I wanted, quite suddenly, for her to kiss me – would have given a week’s salary for her lips to lock onto mine.

‘Oh, Sylvia,’ she said, her deep voice, with its slightly strange foreign vowels, music in my ears, ‘come to dinner with me tonight, at my hotel, please.’

‘But my husband……..’ I started.

She raised her eyebrows, and I changed tack, ‘I’ve nothing to wear,’ I said, knowing that Susana stayed at the super-posh Imperial, where I couldn’t get away with any old rags for dinner.

Susana spread her arms wide, ‘We have enough nice things here for you, don’t we?’

I just looked at her, not wanting to mention the price-tags all our dresses carried, but she laughed, ‘A nice dress will be a part of your bonus, darling. Come, I’ll help you choose.’

She walked to the door and casually flipped the sign back to ‘Closed’ before shepherding me into the big back store where we kept racks of dresses.

Susana knew the ranges intimately, of course, and coursed through the racks of evening gowns until she had found five or six that she thought would suit me. With the store closed, the stock-room had a strange intimacy, and, ridiculous as it seemed, it was all I could do to avoid going into one of the tiny changing cubicles to try on the dresses. I felt Susana’s eyes on me as I slipped off my skirt, leaving my blouse until last, now wishing I had put on a bra after all.

But Susana made no comment when I shrugged off my blouse, and reached for the first of the dresses, standing there in just a pair of white silk panties and my stilettos. Nevertheless, I was self-conscious about baring my breasts to her, and saw a faint smile playing on her lips as she realised my embarrassment.

The first dress was a dark blue velvet one with a full skirt.

‘Frumpy!’ I said, and Susana thought that was word she liked – she giggled like a little girl.

The second, a black crêpe-de-chine number, made me look like the bride of Dracula, and again I had my boss laughing.

By the time we got to the fourth dress, I knew I had found just what I wanted. It was a long silvery-grey silky halter-neck gown, completely backless, with a bodice loose enough so that my breasts jiggled around when I walked. I looked at myself in the mirror and then at Susana, who was watching me, an odd expression on her pretty face.

‘You look ravishing,’ she said, and, taking my hand, squeezed it hard. I looked into her eyes, but failed to read her expression – what was worse, I couldn’t understand my own feelings at that time.

Susana voiced my next big concern: ‘How are you going to get out of the house dressed in that?’

‘That’s what was worrying me!’

‘Branches meeting,’ she suggested, ‘come out in a suit, and change here, that should work.’

When I got home that evening, Jason was already back from work. As I suspected, he’d bought me a huge bouquet, and was all love and kisses, an act with which I was all too familiar, after one of his bouts of violence.

Gently, I broke his embrace, and said, ‘Sorry, love, got to go out tonight – branches meeting.’

‘Oh,’ he said, crestfallen, ‘but are we having dinner before you go?’

‘No,’ I said, there’ll be food there. I’ll do you a pizza before I go.’

He accepted the situation meekly enough, and later I trotted off into the bedroom to put on a rather severe trouser-suit I didn’t think he would find too alluring. I needn’t have worried, he was engrossed in a football match on the telly when I went to the door, and just looked up absently and grunted a farewell.

I went by bus into town, let myself into the shop, and changed into the dress, then took great care with my make-up, and brushed my hair out to a lustrous shine. Taking a twirl in front of the mirror, I said aloud, ‘You look good enough to eat, Sylvia!’

I slipped on the coat I had had on over my suit, during my chilly scooter-ride, and called a taxi.

When I arrived at the hotel, the incredibly plush surroundings were a little daunting, and, seeing my long gown, a uniformed flunky came and took my coat, escorting me to the huge banqueting hall, where a combo played soft music under glittering chandeliers. Susana rose from her corner table to greet me as I was ushered in towards her, and I instantly felt weak at the knees. She wore a long, form-fitting dress of black lace, high-necked and long-sleeved. As she stood, I saw plainly that under it she was naked save for a pair of matching panties, tied at the sides with huge ribbon-bows. The fact that she wore no bra accentuated her almost complete absence of breasts, but tantalising glimpses of large şirinevler escort brown aureola, topped with prominent nubs of nipples, were offered between patterns in the lace, as she moved.

‘What an absolutely gorgeous dress,’ I told her.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ she said, ‘it was an indulgence, one day in Paris, and I never seem to find the occasion to wear it.’

‘I’m glad you did tonight,’ I said, then: ‘you are really so very beautiful.’ I felt redness creep up my cheeks as I said it, and wondered if I had overstepped the mark.

She reached across the table and took my hand, her cool touch feeling like velvet.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, darling,’ she said, ‘I think you are beautiful too. This afternoon, in the shop, I wanted to kiss you, but didn’t want to frighten you off.’

‘I wanted you to kiss me, more than anything in the world,’ I said, and looked down at the table.

A waiter came and took our orders, and the moment was lost. We looked at each other then, and I simply marvelled at Susana’s beauty, her long black lashes, the curve of her neck, her perfect skin – I dare hardly look at her tiny breasts, at those thrusting nipples poking at the Parisian lace, so I watched instead her long fingers, their elegantly manicured nails all painted light pink to perfection. In her ear-lobes tonight she wore long silver pendants, which brushed her shoulders, and were punctuated along their length with little stones – they may or may not have been diamonds.

We ate a light but first-class meal, with good wine, which I asked Susana to order – she did so as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Apart from commenting upon the quality of the food and wine, and sharing a sly giggle like two schoolgirls when a waiter dallied at our table, obviously getting an eyeful of us both, little was said during the meal.

When we ordered coffees and cognac, Susana eased her chair back slightly, visibly relaxed, and it was then that I felt her hand stroking my thigh, through the silky material of my dress. I looked at her, and smiled, biting my bottom lip as I felt a damp warmth spreading in my pussy. I was suddenly afraid of causing a damp patch through my thin silk panties, staining my light-coloured gown. Desperately, I tried to think about something else – anything to divert my mind from whatever was happening to me. I must have closed my eyes, because Susana said quietly, ‘Is something wrong, Sylvia?’

‘Far from it!’ someone replied – it must have been me, but I was in a kind of trance by now, mesmerised by Susana, who was still running her long fingers up and down my leg, and watching my face intently.

‘Oh, please, Susana,’ I said finally, ‘what’s happening to me? I’ve never felt like this before, and……and….’

‘Hush,’ she said, ‘you don’t have to explain. Let’s take our coffees in my room, shall we?’

I found myself being shepherded into the lift, and up to the fifth floor, Susana having given appropriate instructions to the waiter as we left. We were soon in a luxurious suite, and Susana immediately excused herself to go to the toilet. As I heard the loo flush, room service appeared with our coffees.

As I was arranging the things on the coffee table, Susana came out of the toilet, and I noticed straight away that she was now naked under the lace of her dress, having divested herself of her panties. That very knowledge was enough to start my juices flowing again, and when she sat down beside me on the sofa, her musky perfume filled my senses as her long leg slid against mine.

‘Sugar?’ I asked, trying for normality, and she shook her head no.

‘Milk neither,’ she said, and I poured her out a coffee, my hands shaking visibly.

‘Don’t be nervous, darling,’ she said, ‘I don’t bite – unless you want me to, that is!’

I looked to see if she was joking and she took my head in her hands, and kissed me quickly on the lips, just a peck, but it was a peck which opened the floodgates, and I crushed my lips fiercely against hers, thrusting at them with my tongue, demanding an entrance. She yielded to me, and my tongue darted between her sharp little teeth, entwining with her own questing tongue, probing, as I sucked hard, kissed her with all the passion I had been bottling up all evening, showing her the depths of my as-yet-half-understood longing.

‘My God, Sylvia!’ she exclaimed, when she came up for air, ‘you really want me, darling, don’t you?’

‘I…I…Don’t know,’ I said, miserably.

‘Well, that’s flattering, I must say,’ she said.

‘No – I don’t mean that,’ I said, ‘it’s just that I’ve never kissed a woman before, never wanted one before I met you, and…….well……..’ My sentence tailed off lamely.

‘Come with me,’ she said, decisively, standing up, and holding her hand down to help me up. I took it and meekly let her lead me across the suite, up two steps, to the king-size four-poster bed. Gently şişli escort she pushed me down to sit on the edge of it, then, turning her back to me said, ‘Unzip me, darling, will you?’

I hesitated a moment. Here was I, about to undress another woman, passionately wanting to share the innermost secrets of my body with her. Me, Sylvia, a Lesbian, Dyke, all the things I had laughed about, heard my husband and his mates telling jokes about – could this be? But my hesitation was over in a flash, overcome almost before it took place. I wanted Susana, wanted her tenderness, her feminine flesh, her very woman-ness, with all my heart, wanted her lithe, slender body with its musky, heady perfume, wanted to touch her secret places, and above all, wanted her to touch mine.

I reached behind her graceful neck, unclasped the catch, and pulled the long zipper down, down, right to below her waist. She turned to me, her dress bunched up in her arms, smiling almost coyly, as she lowered her arms, uncovering her breasts. I saw then that her aureolas had been rouged, making them more obvious through the lace of her dress, and her nipples stood out starkly. She ran one hand over them, and I could have sworn they hardened perceptibly. Her breasts were scarcely more than swellings, like those of a twelve-year-old girl.

‘Not much to look at,’ she said.

‘I think they are absolutely gorgeous,’ I replied. I reached out to touch her, but she moved away a pace or two, and wriggled a little, shedding the tight skirt of the dress over her hips. She stood naked before me, the dress a pool at her feet, except for her high heeled sandals. I gasped at the beauty of her. She was completely clean-shaven, with a prominent mound, and a neat crack which was all but invisible until, as now, she opened her legs deliberately, letting her upper body sway back a fraction. Then she slipped the fingers of one hand between her legs, and showed me her pussy-lips, just parting her labia with two fingers so that I had a glimpse of the glistening pink treasures within. I moaned and felt an orgasm starting to well up within me, and I hadn’t been touched.

‘Susana, please!’ I cried, and she came and knelt over me. The first touch of her smooth flesh was like an electric shock. I kneaded her breasts, tweaking her hard nipples, somehow not caring if it hurt her, but when I reached down for her pussy, she twisted away, and came up behind me, deftly untying the bow which fastened my dress’s halter-neck. Now behind me, she had my breasts cupped in her hands, and the feeling was ecstatic. When she pulled at my nipples, then, bringing her head around, bent and bit one, I screamed – and came, the first time in my life I had ever had an orgasm without being fucked.

She backed off for a moment, thinking she had hurt me, then I motioned for her to carry on, and raised my buttocks to help her pull my gown down and off.

‘Let’s get rid of these, shall we?’ said Susana, pulling at my now sopping panties, and I again raised my arse and wriggled out of them. Susana clasped my naked body to hers, biting gently at my ear-lobes, then my distended nipples, whilst busy fingers found their way between my legs. I gasped as she located my hard little clitoris, and she murmured her pleasure, as it seemed to grow under her hungry fingers.

‘Oh, Susana,’ I said, breathlessly, ‘I never dreamt anything could be like this!’

In answer, she plunged two long fingers deep into my drenched cunt, and another orgasm was fast overtaking me. She heard it in my rapid, shallow, breathing, and said, ‘not yet, darling!’

She pulled away from me, and, with an agility which belied her years, she flipped around, and we were in ’69’ position. Her tongue lapped the length of my eager slit, and she opened her slender legs wide for me to gaze upon the lovely sight of her own dark labia, surrounding the glistening pink flesh of her moist cunt. I sought her clit and flicked at the little nub with my tongue, then thrust it as deep as I could into her mysterious dark depths, probing and twisting as she squirmed and moaned.

‘My anus!’ she cried, and I knew what she wanted. I rammed a finger straight up her arsehole – it was some kind of an instinct, which came from I knew not where – whilst still tonguing her pussy, and she had her own tongue deep in mine. She shuddered and tensed her legs around my head – I think I did much the same – and I’m certain we both came simultaneously. We carried on licking each other, and the slurping sounds indicated the extent of vaginal fluid each of us had secreted. Hers tasted good, at the same time sweet and musky.

She came up and wriggled into place beside me, taking m in her arms.

‘Your first time, wasn’t it?’

‘With a woman, yes,’ I said.

‘All that hair will have to go,’ she said, laughing, ‘it gets between my teeth!’

‘Does that mean there’ll be another time?’ I asked.

‘If that’s what you want, darling,’ she said, ‘I’m much older than you, and, well, you may not know which direction you want your life to go in, but I could show you many things, take you to places you have never dreamed of – and I don’t mean places you’ll find on the map. Sleep with me tonight – I’ll phone your husband with a good story – and we’ll talk in the morning.’

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