Veronique's Persuasion Ch. 01

I sometimes think that the events overtook me somewhere along the line. What I mean is I got into a conversation with a beautiful neighbour about personal debt and low pay and what to do about it. Veronique, my neighbour, gave me a business card for an agent; this turned out to be her agent too. She reached over and touched my hair and said , 'Anita, you could easily make money out of your beauty.' I blushed but she continued, 'You're stunning and you have all the right assets. I'm surprised you don't already have an agent to promote you.' I blushed even more.

Somewhere in that conversation she mentioned that she regularly made £250 a day. That, to me, was terrific money; especially as I was working part-time in a boutique for £100 a week. I left school at the age of 18 with good exam results but missed out on university. Three years later I got married. Fast forward six years and at the age of 27 I found myself divorced with two children and depending on government financial aid, on top of my paltry pay, to keep us afloat in a small two-bedroom apartment. So £250 a day? Yeah, that was a dream!

When I had put the children to sleep that same night I was surprised to answer a knock on the door and find Veronique there with a bottle of wine in her hands. 'I've come to persuade you,' she smiled.

And let me tell you, Veronique can be very persuasive as I found out. She is a beautiful, petite, 30 year old French woman who lives alone on the same floor in our complex of 24 apartments. I often wondered what her job was as she always seemed so fit and happy and elegant. She had lovely dark brown eyes and shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair. She always appeared tanned and was never without a mini skirt that complemented her legs or a blouse that highlighted her firm bust. But more than that – her personality was captivating. She was so totally feminine; a woman's woman.

While we sat on the sofa we made small talk over two glasses of the Chablis. She told me that she had never married but had a few boyfriends in her day, back in Lyon. She had come to London with a friend and they had tried various jobs. One day they saw an advert for a modelling agent's search for new talent. They got an interview and did an audition but her friend went off the idea and she eventually returned to France. I told her about my marriage and my philandering husband and what it felt like to find out that one of my best friends was sleeping with him. She asked if that had put me off men and I merely shrugged and asked her about the job she was doing for £250 a day.

Veronique smiled, 'It's not exactly a job as such. It's what I would describe as realistic acting and some posing and it is very enjoyable.'

At this point I have to say we were both tipsy with the wine and we were sitting sideways on the sofa with our legs curled up under us. Several times, as if to emphasize a point she was making, she touched my knee and thigh. I felt very relaxed with her and began to notice certain physical attributes: the lines on her pink lips; perfect teeth; the toned shape of her breasts and the outline of a lacy bra; the healthy tan of her thighs. And I had no idea why I was noticing these things.

Again she leaned forward a little and stroked my hair. 'You should definitely consider talking to my agent, Anita. You are such a beautiful woman.'

I broke the moment by refilling our glasses with the remainder of the wine. 'But what exactly do you do?'

'Some lingerie stuff but mostly erotic videos and films,' she said without hesitation.

I almost choked on the wine. 'What? You are joking, aren't you?' She smiled and took a sip of the wine.

'You act in porno movies?' I said.

'Oh, how I hate that term. I don't see it as porno. To me it's erotica, very sensual and very enjoyable.'

'I couldn't do that,' I said. I felt disappointed as I saw the £250 slipping like sand through my fingers.

'Well, you could still do the lingerie modelling. It doesn't pay as much but it's still better than what you're earning at the moment, Anita.'

'Hm,' was all I could muster.

'And do you want to know something?' she continued. 'When the agent first told me what the work entailed I felt the same way as you do now. I actually spoke to her three times before I even looked at a sample of the work.'

We changed the subject and chatted a bit more. Before she left she gave me a quick hug and asked me if I fancied lunch on Friday. I agreed as Friday was the day when my parents took the children for most of the day so I could get some time to myself if necessary.

∞

We met, as pre-arranged, in the shopping centre and headed to a small restaurant on the third floor. Veronique looked stunning and I could see many people eyeing her up. If I am honest I did feel a little jealous. We sat at a small round table in a corner and gave our order to the waitress.

'You look stunning,' I said.

'Oh thank you,' she smiled. 'I was doing a photo shoot this morning and so I still have the makeup. And here, I got this for you.' She handed me a scarlet red carrier bag.

I was puzzled and looked at her. 'Go on, take it,' she laughed.

As I took the bag and looked inside my eyes opened wide. It was obviously underwear and stockings because I could see a jumble of black nylon and blue satin edged with black lace.

'I'm sorry it's all in the same bag like that but that's the way it was given to me,' Veronique said.

'Er, no, it's alright. I mean thank you, Veronique, you, er, shouldn't have. But thank you.'

'It's what I was photographed in this morning,' she smiled when she saw my frown. 'But don't worry, they're clean. I did think they were really lovely and so sexy and I thought they'd be perfect for you, Anita. I hope that's alright.'

I nodded and thanked her again. I did, however, think it odd that she had just given me a lingerie set which she had worn as if it was perfectly normal to do so but I put this down to her being French.

We had a nice lunch of open sandwiches and coffee and we chatted like very close friends. Even in the restaurant Veronique had a habit of touching which again I thought was a French thing. Quite frequently she would touch my fingers or hand or my knee under the table.

After lunch we strolled back to our apartments and I asked her, by way of conversation, if the photographer, in the morning, had been good-looking. Veronique smiled and took my arm. 'She wasn't bad looking I would say.'

'Oh, I didn't imagine it would be a woman,' I said, feeling a little stupid.

'No, all the people on the shoots and in the videos are female. I work only for an all-female company. So everyone from the producer down to the make-up is a woman.'

I suppose I hesitated before asking. 'And the videos themselves? I mean, you know.....'

'The videos I do are girl-on-girl. Sometimes girl-on-girl-on-girl.' She gave a little laugh. 'And the photo shoots are only lingerie and some nude.'

I would have liked to ask if she was a lesbian but I didn't really know how to broach the subject without appearing to be judgemental. And in any case we were back at the apartment complex by this stage. Outside my door I thanked her for a lovely lunch and for the present and she said something in French as she gave me a hug. Just as she was releasing the hug she went to give me a peck on the cheek but changed her mind mere centimetres from my face. I could smell her perfume. Her hand came up to the back of my head and she leaned in, bringing her lips to mine. But only briefly; very briefly. She walked to her door leaving me quite stunned.

When I entered my apartment I stood with my back to the closed door. I realised that I was shaking and feeling a little confused. I ran the tip of my tongue across my lips. There was no doubt that Veronique was a beautiful, sexy woman. There was no doubt either that she could turn anyone's head. Yet the confusion was this: I enjoyed very much being in her company; it did my ego good. But what was happening between us? Or perhaps I should ask what was she expecting of me? I mean the underwear, the kiss ....

A glance at my watch told me that I had just over an hour before my parents brought back the children. I went into the bedroom and put the carrier bag on the bed. I must have stood there for minutes staring at it, deciding what to do. Should I throw it in the rubbish bin? Should I return it to Veronique? Should I ...?

I upended the contents onto the bed and could tell immediately that these were expensive, alluring items; like nothing I had ever worn. Veronique had said that she was often presented with the lingerie after shoots and she would then have worn them later in videos. All girl videos. I reached out and touched the stockings. They felt so light and silky; 10 denier no doubt.

I didn't know why I was doing it but I began to unzip my skirt and let it fall around my ankles. I eased my top off and left it on the bed. I turned round and looked at myself in the full length wardrobe mirror. The white cotton briefs and bra I usually wear seemed .... Comfortable; I couldn't think of a better word than that. They weren't very flattering and I couldn't imagine Veronique wearing them. I wondered how my body would compare to hers.

I slipped the briefs down my legs and unhooked the bra. Again I looked at myself in the mirror and thought that my body was ok, still shapely, no sign of fat or sag. Could it compare to Veronique's?

With a start I realised that there was tingling sensation between my legs; the same sensation I got sometimes when I watched a sexy movie late at night. But there was no movie playing at that moment. Only me, naked, in front of a mirror with Veronique's lingerie awaiting me.

I took her bra and slipped it on and hooked the back up. It felt luxurious, with the satin straps and lace edging and was almost a perfect fit. I could feel my nipples reacting to the coolness of the material. Then I took the thong and stepped into it and eased it up my legs and thighs. I smoothed the satin over my mound and adjusted the elastic and satin strip between the cheeks of my bottom. It had been so long since I'd worn a thong that I'd forgotten the feeling of the intrusion between my cheeks. I sat on the bed and slowly rolled the sheer black stockings up my leg. At the top there was about 10 centimetres of lace. Finally I put the black lace suspender belt around my waist and hooked it up. I had to swivel it round until I was able to join the elastic straps to the stocking tops; two on each leg.

I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. I had the sensation that I was looking at someone else. It looked stunning on me. I looked stunning in it. The feel of the satin and lace made me feel very sexy. I wondered how Veronique felt when she was wearing it. And I had the somewhat disquieting thought of how she might have looked in one of her shoots.

Almost as if my body had a mind of its own the mirror began to reflect what I imagined were sexy poses – pouting, pushing my chest out, hands holding my hair up, legs apart .... Was that all I needed to do to earn some good money?

I was admiring my backside in the mirror when there was a knock on the door. I knew from the pattern of the knock that it was my parents. So realising that I had no time to change my underwear I quickly put my top and skirt back on and slipped on my high heels.

'Mammy, you look nice,' said Carrie, my five year old daughter. 'Can we stay at Granny's? She said we can.'

I raised my eyebrows at my parents by way of seeking clarification.

'We were thinking of heading down to the caravan, come back on Sunday. Be nice to have them,' said my father.

'They like it down there,' added my mother.

'Yeah, they do.' I could hear the shouts of anticipation from their bedroom where it seemed they were already filling an overnight bag with clothes and toys – mostly toys, I suspected. 'Thank you,' I said to my mum.

While they were drinking tea and I was checking the contents of the children's bag my father asked if there were any changes in my job. I think he expected me to be offered the post of manager.

'You should get something better,' chirped in my mum.

Before I put my brain into gear I said, 'Oh, I might have something. I had an interview today in fact for a modelling job ....'

'Modelling?'

'Yeah, very good money. So I can take the children on a proper holiday this year. And .... I need to reward two other people for doing everything for me.' I pointed at them.

My mother blushed and my father said, 'We love doing our bit so there's no need for reward.'

'Every need,' I said.

Less than an hour later I stood alone in the apartment, not sure exactly what to do. I berated myself for saying that I had the modelling job. First of all, I didn't have it and, secondly, I still felt unsure about going down that road. I went and looked at my reflection in the mirror but there were no answers there.

I took off my skirt and top and replaced them with a low cleavage, dark blue cotton dress which I'd bought in the sale at the boutique. It buttoned down the front and came to about four inches above the knees. I didn't know what I was expecting but it didn't help me find any answers either. I sat on the bed and pondered my predicament: I had the possibility of earning good money but it would mean doing something I would never have dreamt of doing and something that would likely give me palpitations. I tried some more poses in the mirror – raising my dress to show the suspenders and thong, running my hands over my breasts and down to my thighs. I sighed deeply.

'Fuck it!' I said and walked out the door.

I almost didn't ring the bell on Veronique's door; it took me three attempts. When she opened the door she was wearing a short dressing gown, lightly belted. She looked at me in my dress and mouthed, 'Wow.'

Ten minutes later I was explaining my confusion over whether or not I could undress and pose in and out of my underwear. She listened attentively and took my hand.

'Anita, nobody will make you do anything you don't want to do. And believe me, I do understand your confusion.'

'You know, I was trying out different poses in front of the mirror before I came over here and .... I don't know.'

She looked me in the eye for a moment then gave my leg a quick squeeze before she went over to a laptop on the table. 'I'm going to have a quick shower, Anita, but I want you to have a look at this website.' She hit some keys and brought the laptop over to me. She pointed to a search window at the top of the screen.

'Just type in Claudette here. That's the name I use when I do the shoots or the videos.'

My eyes followed her as she went into the bathroom and closed the door. Then I focused my attention on the screen which displayed the title of the website: lanazusak.com. This was obviously where Veronique showed herself to the world. There was a large image of two beautiful girls kissing and several buttons directing the viewer to areas such as photos, videos, movies, blog and so on.

I could hear the shower working in the bathroom and, for some reason, I became very aware of the thong between the cheeks of my bottom and the suspenders pulling gently on the stockings that I wore.

In the little window indicated by Veronique I typed in Claudette. I had to do it twice as the first time I misspelled it. Another window opened with options for photos, videos, movies and blog. I clicked on the first one: photos. Two seconds later a further window opened with dozens of thumbnails, each one undoubtedly showing an image of Veronique. I clicked on the first thumbnail and immediately a new window opened.

I sat there, transfixed by the small images of Veronique. There was a progression from fully clothed to nude yet everything seemed to be nicely done; highly erotic but not smutty or crude. I clicked on the first small photo and it instantly changed to a large HD portrait. She looked absolutely gorgeous and natural in a black mini skirt, black nylons and cream blouse. I looked over my shoulder to see if the bathroom door was still closed before I selected another thumbnail, this time showing her in her lingerie. It was perhaps the most erotic photograph I'd ever seen of a woman. The lingerie was beautiful – cream-coloured silk with pink lace, pink lace suspender belt attached to black stockings. This was another HD image so I had to scroll up and down to see everything but it was mostly her panties that got my attention.

Two things happened which surprised me. Firstly I realised that my nipples were beginning to stiffen inside my bra and secondly my breathing had changed; I had to release the breath that I was holding in. Obviously the reason for my surprise was that I'd more or less gone off sex during the last few years and I'd never considered looking at another woman in a sexual way. Of course I could look at Halle Berry or Penelope Cruz in a film and think they were very beautiful. But, here, I was looking at the photos of Veronique in a different way. And, I also realised, I wanted to see more.

I heard the shower being turned off and the cubicle sliding open. I'd wanted to have a look at Veronique's last few photos, posing provocatively without any clothes, but I knew that would just look plain odd if she saw me. I went back to the initial thumbnails and quickly looked at the variety available and saw that there were17 photos, 46 videos and just 8 films. I hit the back button to bring me to the start page where I had entered Claudette's name. Silently I mouthed the name, Claudette.

The bathroom door opened and I turned round, embarrassingly aware that my nipples were erect and now my clitoris had awoken. She was wearing only a deep pink lace bra and matching panties.

'Well? What do you think?'

I think I was blushing enough to match the colour of her underwear. 'Er ....'

She smiled and came and sat next to me on the sofa. 'Do you think you could do something like that for the money?'

My mouth had gone dry so I dumbly nodded.

'You would be sensational, Anita. I just know it. And you will love it too, I promise you.'

She looked from my eyes down to my chest. I have to explain that my nipples are super sensitive and when aroused can become hard points around two centimetres long. They were a dead giveaway.

'Do you want to look at the site some more?' Her voice had become huskier I imagined.

She moved closer, so close her leg was touching my stockings. I could clearly smell the soap and shampoo she had used in the shower. She put her hand under the laptop and the back of her fingers were touching my thigh. I must have tensed slightly just as she clicked on the thumbnail for videos.

'Er, I'm sorry. Can we just talk a minute?' My voice must have betrayed my nerves.

She smiled at me and said, 'Of course we can.'

At the same time she took the laptop from me and set it next to her. She was still so close I could feel the heat from her. And she probably felt the same from me.

It hit me then that I felt very attracted to this woman. She was very beautiful, as I've said, even without her makeup. And incredibly sexy. I'd heard a friend of mine once say there were certain women who could have turned her bi. I'd never felt that until now. But this was insane, I mean .....

She put her hand lightly on my knee and asked if I'd like some wine. I shook my head.

There was a pause before Veronique asked, 'The website hasn't put you off, has it?'

'No,' I said. 'I mean, I've already told my parents I'd got a job modelling .....'

'Underwear?'

'No,' I laughed. 'And the money sounds great.' I paused again, not really knowing where I was heading myself.

'Did you like the photos of me?'

I looked into her eyes and nodded. Her hand slid an inch or so up my leg as she raised her eyebrows and said slowly, 'So?'