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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)

*quot;Good morning, Julia, did you sleep well?*quot; Instinctively I sat bolt upright, startled by the voice beside me in the unfamiliar surroundings. *quot;I've made you coffee, orange juice and croissants.*quot; My breasts peeped over the bedclothes and Kirsten smiled at me. *quot;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.*quot; 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 Bağdatcaddesi Escort 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.

*quot;Hello, Julia, we are expecting you. So glad you came.*quot; 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*quot; frame. Her long silky-smooth auburn hair reached almost to her neat 24*quot; waist. It was tied back neatly at the nape of her neck and flowed behind her. *quot;Follow me,*quot; 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. *quot;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.*quot; 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. *quot;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.*quot; *quot;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.*quot; 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.*quot;

An uncharacteristic slip.

Emma continued unflustered. *quot;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 Bağdatcaddesi Escort Bayan 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.*quot;

Emma dropped her voice a little, implying confidentiality. *quot;Our clients are mostly successful independent women: businesswomen, media