Julia lands a dream job with a top fashion lingerie house that leads her into a life of beautiful women and daring sexual exploits. In this autobiographical story, Julia explores her sexuality and her body as well as her new contacts. Gradually she pushes the boundaries of her experiences and enters a secret world of lesbian passion, sex and more.
This is only as fictional as you want it to be but you will not recognise any of the names. Act out parts of my life if you wish, but be kind, stay safe and stay legal.
Chapter 1 (Monday)
I felt a warm glow of familiar pleasure as the Monday morning Eurostar train from Paris pulled effortlessly into the terminus at 9:50, 5 minutes early. It was going to be great to be back in London after so long, even if it was only for a couple of days. Things had been getting progressively worse between Claud and me as he became more and more overbearing, placing ever more absurd expectations on me. I dreaded sex with him to the point where eventually I couldn't even bear to let him touch me at all. It made my skin creep. I needed to get away to have time and space to myself and found the perfect opportunity, or shall I say, excuse. I had answered a job advertisement for a position where I could use my marketing skills and my qualification in textile design. But most important was the offer of paid return travel expenses and an overnight stay in London.
I grabbed my leather overnight bag from the luggage rack, brushing away the offer of help from the kindly gentleman sitting opposite. 'I don't need a man anymore' I confidently said to myself, shocked to realise that it was probably true. Stepping off the train with my new-found self-assurance I walked down the long platform with my head held high. At 5 feet 7 inches tall, with shoulder-length, naturally curly honey blonde hair, high cheekbones and a world of opportunities ahead of me, how could I fail? By the time I reached the ticket barrier I had already decided to stop by the fashion stores to buy a couple of items to better match my mood before I could approach the interview in the right frame of mind. Paris is a fascinating city but in the 5 years I had lived there I had missed the high-quality clothing stores that I knew so well in the main streets and small arcades of London's Bond Street area.
Emerging from the 'tube' station I strode to that landmark department store on Oxford Street, delighted to find it had been recently refurbished so that the centre of the store was filled with cool natural daylight, so important to show off the true colour and texture of the clothes. Now, what better to boost a girl's ego than a new bra? Heading to the large and comprehensively stocked lingerie department I became temporarily bewildered by the array of items on display. Here was everything any woman could need, from plain, functional but exceptionally well made everyday wear to the most glamorous and exquisitely fine silk and lace garments from the top designers.
I needed something that would not show under the plum-coloured knee-length dress I had brought with me and which would hold my breasts in place so as not do draw too much attention to themselves. Not that they need much control, as they're nicely firm and well proportioned. An English size 34C, they stood as prominent and high on my rib-cage as they did when I was at school and the other girls would cat-call and jibe out loud in the showers whilst secretly half-whispering comments of jealousy and admiration to each under their breath. Absent-mindedly my mind drifted back to those school days when I became deeply aware of my own body and the pleasure it gave me when I would stand admiring my blossoming teenage curves in the mirror. I would cup my breasts and feel their even, balanced weight on my hands, allowing my fingers to stray onto my dark nipples, the pleasure enhanced by the certain knowledge that I was breaking one of the boarding school's stuffy rules. Yes, there was even a rule that forbade the girls to even so much as to touch themselves, on the breasts or genitals except whilst washing or showering. How the school's founders ever planned to enforce such a rule I could not imagine, but judging from the moans coming from under the sheets at night, I was not the only one to break it. And we definitely were not allowed to touch each other, anywhere or any time.
My mind was brought sharply back to reality by the strong but polite voice of a store employee standing behind me. "Are you looking for anything in particular or would you like me to make a few suggestions?" Even if I had known what to say, I could not have spoken at that moment as I was totally enthralled by the short but striking woman I saw as I spun round. She was slim with jet-black hair in a precision-cut, short straight style. She wore a dark burgundy jacket buttoned high up to her neck, a matching calf-length skirt and black, high-quality shoes. My marketing experience told me first to read her name-badge: 'Kirsten – Personal Shopper', engraved on a platinum-coloured badge bearing a discreet but unfamiliar logo.
"I'm Julia and I need a nice bra to wear under a plummy-ish coloured sort of dress type of thing, nothing too racy, er ..., if you know what I mean". All of my new-found confidence had drained away as I looked into the clear, blue eyes of Kirsten - Personal Shopper. "I am sure I can find just what you need – follow me". The way she spoke made me feel so inadequate; so powerful yet polite. I wish I knew what assertiveness course she had attended.
Kirsten led me to a rail of mid-priced lingerie in plain colours and a variety of styles. Amongst them was a bra in the perfect colour, my size and in a cut that the label described as Balcony. "This looks OK", I said, feeling more relaxed now as Kirsten put me at ease with words of encouragement, speaking more softly with an underlying Irish accent. Without even asking, she picked up my overnight bag for me and led me to the luxuriously-appointed changing rooms. Expecting her to wait outside, I was surprised when Kirsten stepped into the large cubicle behind me and quietly closed, and locked, the door.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Kirsten (I knew that) and I'm your personal shopper (I knew that too). If you would like to try on the bra, I will help you to adjust the straps for a prefect fit. I'm happy to bring other sizes for you to try. But more than that, I can advise you on the subtle differences between the styles and cuts, which items are most suitable under your clothes and which will give you the shape you want."
Whew! This is exactly what I need. I love lingerie but I have always wondered at the range and complexity of bras, panties, basques, waspies, bodies and more that are available. Now I had an expert to help me. "But don't worry, I won't actually touch you – it's against the rules here." Hmm, where did I hear that before?
We moved into easy and relaxed conversation. Some of it small talk interspersed with much helpful advice. The plum bra fitted perfectly. It was made of a smooth, satin fabric, with narrow straps, lacy edging to the cups and perfectly-stitched details. I noticed it had unusual metal rings to adjust the straps. The under-wiring came up the centre between my boobs, holding them slightly apart, with a small metal stud in the centre in the shape of delicately pursed lips, shaped just as if they were blowing a kiss.
Kirsten explained: "A Balcony bra lifts your breasts slightly and holds them, but does not push them together so you don't get a jaw-dropping cleavage. It's a bit like cupping your hands under them to feel their weight. You're lucky; your breasts are very firm for their size, so you don't need a lot of support. Look how they don't bulge over the edge of the bra-cups, they just continue to follow the shape and curve of the fabric."
"You could wear almost any style of bra," she continued, "just according to your mood. A push-up lifts your breasts and pushes them together too. They are bought mostly by women with small, wide-spaced breasts who want to make the most of them. But a push-up would give you a very deep, fascinating cleavage. You would look stunning in an uplift ½ cup bra as the whole of the top surface of your smooth-skinned breast would be visible above the edge of the cups but you wouldn't 'spill' when you leant forward. You can get away with wearing wear soft, lace bras with no under-wiring as you don't need the support. Only a few makes come in your size as normally only smaller-breasted women like me can wear these."
To be honest I hadn't noticed Kirsten's figure, well concealed under her business-like suit.
"So who actually employs you?" I quizzed.
"I don't work for the store. I'm paid by Passionella, look, this is their logo on my badge". It was the same Blowing-Kiss design as the stud on the bra. "It's a bit of a con, as customers assume they are getting impartial advice but I'm here to push my products" Kirsten knew all about pushing all right.
