Beginnings: Chapter 3 - Model Answers - Sex Stories

Beginnings: Chapter 3 - Model Answers

... began to elevate inexplicably once more as I saw her. I couldn’t help but immediately contrast Veronica’s authentically powerful presence with the synthetic show of superficial authority that Helen Swan had been displaying just moments earlier. “Good, you’ve arrived,” she said. “Something has come up unexpectedly in the Samantha Sutton case and I’ve just arranged to meet with her at her studio to discuss it. Come on.” I followed Veronica out of the building to the partners’ car park and got into her pristine, black MX-5, its glossy contours oozing its own, undeniable sensuality. I did not know very much about cars, but you didn’t need to in order to understand that this was significant luxury. “It’s a beautiful car, Miss Hamilton,” I said, admiring the red leather interior as I sank into the plush passenger seat which seemed to immediately wrap its opulence around my body and caress it. Veronica turned to me and smiled. “It is, isn’t it?” She handed me her black briefcase before starting the engine and folding the slender fingers of her right hand around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, and those of her left hand provocatively around the smooth, bulbous knob of the gear stick. “Inside the front pocket of my brief case you’ll find a statement that I received first thing this morning,” she continued. “I would like you to read it.” I opened the front pocket of the brief case and took out the document, which ran to four or five pages, as Veronica slipped the car into gear and ...

... eased smoothly off. It was a statement which had been written by a woman named Faith Foster, who claimed that she had been seduced by Samantha Sutton whilst working on her first job as a model at a fashion show in London about a year earlier. She went on to allege that, following that seduction, she and Samantha carried on an intense and passionate sexual affair behind her husband’s back. By the time I had finished reading the statement we had left suburban Brighton behind and were heading north-west into the open and picturesque South Downs, a range of rolling, swelling chalk hills that stretch along south-east England. It was in an idyllic village in the Downs, some twenty miles from Brighton, where Samantha had her fashion studio. The quieter country roads that we were now on were bathed in bright, early morning sunshine. “Right, Lucy,” said Veronica efficiently, “I would like you to give me your assessment of the case in the light of this new piece of evidence.” A curiously thrilling nervousness had continued to overcome me every time that Veronica spoke to me, from our very first meeting a few days earlier, and suddenly did so again. I enjoyed the way the rhythm of my heart began to accelerate and my body grew both tense and overcome. I had quickly come to learn that nothing about Veronica could be predicted, and that to try was futile. “Something about Faith’s statement just doesn’t seem right, Miss Hamilton,” I said tentatively. “Go on.” “Well, Miss Hamilton, Faith is ...