Pleasure in Control Ch. 02

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 pushed 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.

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Chapter 2 (Tuesday)

"Good morning, Julia, did you sleep well?" Instinctively I sat bolt upright, startled by the voice beside me in the unfamiliar surroundings. "I've made you coffee, orange juice and croissants." My breasts peeped over the bedclothes and Kirsten smiled at me. "It's 9:30 and you have 45 minutes before you need to leave for the Passionella offices. I need to go to work now. Come and see me at the store and tell me how the interview goes. Bye." Kirsten was dressed in a fitted jacket and short-ish skirt in company burgundy, and she had a purple round-neck shirt underneath. Damn, if I had woken earlier, I might have seen the elusive naked Kirsten. The apartment door closed with a click.

Alone in her room, I ate Kirsten's croissants, drank her coffee, and thumbed through her wardrobes, having no option but to take up her offer to borrow some of her clothes. I found a stretch top that just about fitted me and a pair of loose-fitting trousers with a tie waist. Finding a bra I could get into was more of a challenge. They were all so beautifully made and flattering but virtually all of Kirsten's bras were size 32B and even some in 32A. I tried on several, they all looked and felt gorgeous and they all carried the Blowing-Kiss logo in one form or another. But I could not get my 34Cs more them halfway into most of them; some of them I would push my nipples down inside the cups and they would just pop out again. Others I could not even do up! I tried padded uplift bras with the pads taken out. I tried stretch bras with Lycra and I tried bras in all kinds of colours and fabrics. I twisted and turned to admire myself in the long mirror. If I was going to a nightclub or was dressing for a night in with someone very special I might have risked one or two of them. In my state of suppressed sexual arousal, this was all too much for me and I feared that I would at best leave my wetness on Kirsten's undies and at worst I might make myself late for my special interview.

Then I tried the deeper bras that Kirsten had described as Bustières. These were more promising and I found a russet-brown one in size 32C which I could stay in at least whilst standing still. My boobs swelled proudly and defiantly above the lace edging of the cups and their full weight was supported by the reassuringly wide shoulder straps. I fastened the back on the least-tight setting and wriggled my boobs till they felt comfortable. Eventually I found a matching pair of russet panties that fitted me, they sat high on my hips and the front was cut in a broad vee, ending just above my mound. There was no way I could wear yesterday's, they were still damp, and how could I possibly go to see a quality lingerie retailer wearing uncoordinated bra and panties? I don't know why I thought anyone would see my underwear – this was just an interview after all. But wearing matching undies boosts a girl's confidence, you know.

It was now 10:15 and the black cab that Kirsten had so thoughtfully ordered was waiting 4 floors below in the street, tooting impatiently. Grabbing my handbag and one last look in the mirror, I slammed the door behind me, fully prepared to face the day. One thing I had definitely decided – there was no way I was going back to Claud – London will be home again.

The taxi ride took me through some of the bumpy back mews streets of Mayfair as the taxi-driver used his local knowledge to miss the jams. I was already having second thoughts about my choice of bra as the motion of the cab cause my boobs to wriggle slowly but surely out of their imprisoning bustière. After 5 minutes my nipples had broken free and were pushing over the tops of the bra-cups. Every time we cornered, they rubbed exquisitely against the lace edging causing them to grow larger and firmer, only accentuating the problem. It was too late to turn back and I had not thought to bring Kirsten's spare key with me. I looked down nervously to see my twin nipples in their fully-erect glory, pushing purposefully against the fabric of Kirsten's stretch top. By now the cabbie must have noticed my dilemma in his rear-view mirror, in between relaying the latest soccer results to me and solving the worlds political and social problems single-handed. Trying to ignore the luscious feelings all this was creating in my crotch, I reached up inside my top pulled frantically at the uncooperative bra, just managing to nestle my agitated twin peaks back inside as we drew up outside the designated address. To my relief, Kirsten had even pre-paid the cab, allowing me to dive out without needing to make eye contact with its driver.

I walked up to the front door of the Passionella UK head office, identifiable only by its street number and a small but reassuring Lips logs on each door. I could barely see through the smoked-glass windows so I pushed the door open and strode confidently into the reception area, 1 minute early. The décor and furnishings were modern and very striking in their simplicity. The walls were adorned with large, poster-size photos of glamorous models clad in the most alluring and sophisticated lingerie. I paused for a moment to admire the high quality of the photography and the beauty of the subjects.

"Hello, Julia, we are expecting you. So glad you came." As promised, I was met Rachel, sitting at her elegant desk. I stretched out my hand to shake hers but she just smiled sweetly. Rachel was dressed in a corporate-burgundy coloured waistcoat, unbuttoned almost to her navel. Underneath she wore only a glossy black bra that pushed her smooth, tanned boobs into the deepest, firmest cleavage I could ever wish to see. What Kirsten might describe as jaw-dropping. As Rachel wrote my name in the visitors' book, I was enthralled to see how firm her boobs were. They did not change shape in the slightest when she bent forward and they hardly moved when she changed position. I think she appreciated my admiring stare, making brief eye contact as she stood up quickly.

I gasped. Rachel wore a tiny burgundy mini-skirt, which she constantly smoothed down as she walked. She wore black ankle boots with 3-inch heels that only partly compensated for her short 5'2" frame. Her long silky-smooth auburn hair reached almost to her neat 24" waist. It was tied back neatly at the nape of her neck and flowed behind her. "Follow me," she requested in her cheery London accent, as she wriggled her trim hips down the corridor in front of me, pushing the company image, the dress code and her bra fastenings to their limits, I imagined. Visually, Rachel could easily be described as tarty-meets-glamour, but she carried an air of maturity several years beyond her age, which I guessed at 19.

We walked past several identical doors each marked Private Room in a different colour and up a flight of stairs to meet Emma, the Passionella UK personnel manager. Rachel introduced me, and Emma smiled warmly. "Please come in and close the door. I've already heard quite a lot about you and am excited to see you. Take a seat by the window and make yourself comfortable." Emma was at least 10 years older than Rachel and could only be described as voluptuous. She had her wavy streaked-blonde hair piled high on her head, her dark-brown eyebrows and eyes suggesting that her muff does not match her mane. She wore a well-made white long-sleeved shirt that strained as her large, full breasts tried to escape. Her bra created a long and inviting cleavage above the last fastened button.

Emma immediately created a warm, caring impression that put me at ease. She made comfortable flowing small talk like a true professional and enquired about my education, my background and my experience. Her eyes constantly darted between mine and my mouth, picking up my mood from my facial expressions. I couldn't keep my eyes off her curves but she never apparently so much as glanced down at mine. Just as well, because if she had she would have clearly seen that my nipples had once again worked themselves free from my borrowed bustière and were pointing forwards, straining against the stretch fabric of Kirsten's top. Each time I changed position in my leather chair, they rasped against the top edge of their inadequate 34C-cups. This again made my nipples even larger and harder and they made themselves even more obvious. I sat bolt upright, trying to keep still.

Emma then lightly moistened her full lips with the tip of her tongue and began to explain the company background and the new vacancy. "Passionella is an Italian lingerie manufacturer with an enviable brand image that is respected throughout Europe for its high quality fabrics, the latest styles and designs, beautiful colours and a careful and dedicated approach to fit, comfort and total customer satisfaction." "Passionella UK (she swept her perfectly-manicured hand through 180o to encompass the building in which we sat) is the local sales office and we uphold and exceed the company principles." The UK Vice-President is Linda (no-one seemed to have surnames) and she runs a caring and hugely successful company. Everyone works directly for Linda and she runs a very open and flat organisation. There are only 3 levels of employee. All the Sales Demonstrators - we call them Dems for short - who work in the retail outlets, plus Rachel, are level one. You will, er ... would, be level two along with the Personal Shoppers like Kirsten."

An uncharacteristic slip.

Emma continued unflustered. "Personal Shoppers act as guides and supervisors to the Dems and also take special care of our key clients, the high-spenders. The only level threes are myself and Charlotte, our Marketing Manager. Everyone at Passionella UK earns the same salary but the differences are in the bonuses, the extra money the Dems and Personals can earn – let's call that 'gratuities' - and some 'extras' the company provides."

Emma dropped her voice a little, implying confidentiality. "Our clients are mostly successful independent women: businesswomen, media & publishing executives, legal professionals and aristocracy. Others are wives and partners of high profile and wealthy diplomats and politicians. They all come to Passionella because they seek quality and innovation in their lingerie. They also expect first-rate service and absolute discretion, and can afford to pay for it. Many of them live lonely lives – it can be tough at the top - and love to be pampered."

"We have 8 sales outlets at present, all are concessions inside high-end department stores. Key clients can also come here to try and buy. We have very few rules but one you must remember at all times – we never touch our clients. We give them very close personal attention but this rule, imposed by Linda, ensures there can never be any suggestion of indiscretion that could ruin a client if it became public. We call it LDT – Look, Don't Touch. Also, all employees are 100% natural, no cosmetic surgery. Are they home-grown?"

Emma looked down at my breasts and smiled. I nodded, pushed my shoulders back and thrust my boobs forward; Kirsten's bustière pushed them upwards and they stood to attention.

"Yes, they are all mine," I confirmed, proudly, suddenly unashamed of my protruding buds.

Slowly, Emma stood up and walked round behind my chair where I could not see her. Then, to my amazement, she reached round my shoulders and cupped my breasts in her hands, allowing my nipples to nestle between her fingers. She squeezed them and a shock of sexual energy shot through my nervous system and arrived at my pussy with a jolt. I closed my eyes and sighed as the erotic feelings subsided.

"Perfect" she purred, and sat down again. She looked deep into my eyes and saw right in to my soul. I was speechless. "But ..." I stammered, "I though you said 'no touching'."

"I only touched your clothes, darling."

'I am going to enjoy this,' I thought to myself.

Emma went on to explain the role. I would need to visit all of the outlets regularly and act as a typical client. My status must not be revealed to any staff outside of Linda, Emma, Charlotte and Rachel, except of course Kirsten who will be my mentor. I would pose as a wealthy customer to judge the sales skills, care and attention of the Dems and Personals. I'd need to take them into my confidence and test their discretion and integrity.

Emma explained further, "The Dems should help a new client to chose her lingerie on her first visits and will be expected to help you to try it on in the store changing rooms. As they get to know you, they will offer to model items for you. They should carefully gauge your mood and your interest and then may invite you to New Product Launches here at PROM."

"PROM?" I asked.

"Passionella Regional Office, Mayfair," Emma explained.

"You should encourage them. Here at PROM you will get the chance to see select fashion shows on our own catwalk and use the Private Rooms to try on our new and exclusive styles."

I nodded regularly to signal my understanding. "Regular clients are given a Passionella credit card with an embedded chip which stores their size, their status as a customer and their, umm ..., preferences. We do not try to attract the lower social groups who aspire to our products, like pop singers, lottery winners and wives of used car dealers from Essex. We discourage them from purchasing Passionella products and they certainly do not get a credit card."

The way Emma spoke, it seemed quite likely I had already got the job, but then she changed her tone. "Julia, I will now take you down to meet Charlotte, our Marketing and Training Manager. She will pose as a Sales Demonstrator and you should role-play as a client, just as you would if you were Pasionella's first Mystery Shopper. Let's call it an aptitude test. OK?"

I nodded and followed her eagerly downstairs.

Emma waved me into one of the Private Rooms where a slightly-built but attractive young woman waited.

"Good afternoon, may I show you some of our latest lines in luxury Italian lingerie?" Realising that the test had already begun, I drew on my distant memories of drama classes at my all-girls' school. Charlotte showed me some beautiful clothes and I admired them, finally asking to try on a silk bra with delicate appliqué butterflies on the cups and straps together with matching deep briefs. Charlotte guessed my size exactly and brought the items from a hanging rail along one wall. I took the opportunity to look around at the room, which was decorated in the same style as I remembered from the Passionella changing room at Kirsten's Oxford Street department store concession. It was much larger though, and was furnished with two matching chairs, a low sofa and a dressing table. I noticed there were several full-length wardrobes and another door at the other end.

Charlotte invited me to undress and only then did I realise that my breasts had all but completely dispensed with the services of the bustière; I confidently pulled the stretch Lycra top over my head, shaking my shoulder-length hair free. My boobs rose and fell and I caught sight of my side profile in one of several large mirrors. Charlotte looked at me with a combination of surprise and admiration and I made a coy apology for my seemingly debauched state. She smiled sweetly and helped me into the silk bra, which felt cool and comfortable on my naked skin and took some of the sensitivity from my still-erect nipples. My fantasy sales demonstrator was very attentive and caring and I tried to keep up my act of calm sophistication as she helped me to remove my borrowed panties. I slipped on the butterfly-shaped briefs and admired myself from all sides in the mirrors. Charlotte was very complimentary and told me that I looked totally captivating. I did.

Then she surprised me by offering to model some other lines herself, explaining that some women could appreciate the beauty of the products better on someone else. I remember what Emma had told me and go along with the idea; I thumbed through the hanging rail and asked Charlotte to try on a body suit adorned with ribbon ties. She turned away from me, discretely undressed and slipped into the garment. With her back still turned, for which she apologised, she tied each of the ribbons down the front of the bodysuit in a neat bow.

Then she gracefully swung round to face me and stood as tall as her 5'4" frame would allow. I shuddered in excitement. Charlotte looked exquisite as the delicate fabric clung to her slightly-built body, a 32A-22-32 I guessed. She twisted and turned and I complimented her and the product that she showed off so well.

She then explained that this bodysuit was designed specially so it can be removed gracefully, to entertain a partner. Charlotte invited me to sit on one of the armchairs and she started to undo the laces, starting at the top. Slowly, one-by-one she pulled at each bow and allowed the fabric to part at the front. In between each one, she looked at me with a dreamy and tantalising expression that suggested she was enjoying the show as much as I was. I started to squirm on the sofa and make encouraging noises. By the time Charlotte has loosened half of the bows I was starting to perspire and my nipples were straining at the soft silk of my borrowed bra. I desperately wanted her to undo the remaining ties so I could see her naked, but she just kept her cool and teased the hell out of me. I was breathing heavily now and I willed her to let me see the shape of her breasts.

"You teaser. For fuck's sake untie the last ribbons." I pleaded, finally losing control.

I realised that I had just blown my chances of getting the job but I was past caring. I started clawing at my own breasts. I leant forward and pressed my hot pussy into the chair, rubbing it back and forth on the cushion. Charlotte is so very sexy and I had never seen a woman undress so provocatively. She still had three ties to go when she walked slowly towards me, stopping just out of my reach. Pulling on the ribbons, she released another bow to reveal her navel, which is pierced and adorned with a blue jewel. I'd just about had it now, and started to move my hands towards the silk that encased my pussy.

"No, hold out your hands," Charlotte purred, "you have my permission to undo the last bows" and she stepped forward. Shaking uncontrollably, I reached out and pulled the ends of the last two ribbons. Finally, and very, very slowly, Charlotte slipped the narrow straps of the bodysuit off her shoulders, parted her legs very slightly and allowed the suit to fall silently to the floor. I was spellbound. Her tits were small and conical and exquisitely formed, with fiery red nipples jutting upwards. Charlotte ran her hands from her collarbone down over her breasts; her nipples jumped as her fingers ran over them. She continued to caress her skin, down, down over her flat belly, skimming over her protruding pelvic bones and on down her legs, avoiding her Mound of Venus that was delicately covered with dark brown neatly-trimmed curls. She bent forward and planted her hands firmly on her knees and her breasts hung down in small, delectable, perfect cones. She looked directly at me and blew me a kiss; I nearly cried as I sank back into the sofa.

"You'd better get dressed, Linda will want to see you know" explained Charlotte, standing up abruptly. I shook myself out of my heightened state of sexual arousal and grabbed my clothes, trying to cover my nearly naked body in utter embarrassment. I had let my powerful sexuality take over and ruin my chances of getting a great job. I also felt thoroughly cheated by Charlotte who was supposed to be testing me. I dressed quickly and asked the way to Linda's office. Charlotte slipped on a gown and led me up to the top floor of the building, where I found Emma waiting. She introduced me to Linda, Vice-President of Sales, Passionella UK; we entered Linda's office and Charlotte closed the door behind us.