Beginnings: Chapter 3 - Model Answers - Sex Stories

Beginnings: Chapter 3 - Model Answers

... a young woman who is trying to break into a very competitive industry. I was wondering why on earth she would potentially risk harming her career before it has even really begun. It seems to me that Samantha Sutton has the power and connections to help Faith to realize her ambitions, and Adam Sutton has nothing at all, on the face of it, to offer her. Why would Faith even think about giving evidence against Samantha Sutton? What is in it for her?” I looked across at Veronica, who remained looking at the road ahead of her. “So why might she have provided the statement, do you think, Lucy?” “Money, Miss Hamilton?” I suggested. Veronica turned her head briefly towards me and smiled, almost knowingly, before turning her attention once more to the road ahead. “Money is a very seductive motive, certainly,” Veronica replied. “However, at this moment in time Adam Sutton has no money. Throughout the marriage he has lived like a parasite on Samantha’s success.” Something in Veronica’s tone suggested that she was feeding me thoughts to simply provoke me to think more abstractly. “Is it possible that Faith thinks that if Adam Sutton was successful in the divorce proceedings, and manages to obtain the huge settlement he is seeking, he would then be able to pay her off, Miss Hamilton?” Almost before the final words had slipped from my lips, Veronica’s left hand left its position resting on the gear knob and had moved onto my right knee. I felt her soft fingers spread a little, and her ...

... nails graze my skin. I swallowed hard. I could see that she was smiling wickedly. “Lucy,” she said softly, “do you really think it is in any way likely that I am going to allow Adam Sutton to be successful in these divorce proceedings?” Her question, as clearly rhetorical as it was, almost compelled me to respond. I felt Veronica’s fingers teasing gently a little way up and down my thigh, just above my knee. “No, Miss Hamilton,” I replied. “I don’t.” I felt Veronica’s fingers slowly tease their way to the hem of my skirt and she began to gently slide it up my legs, slowly unveiling my thighs. “You have gorgeous legs, Lucy,” she purred. “I think you need to be showing them off a little more, don’t you?” “Do you think so, Miss Hamilton?” “Yes I do,” she replied, continuing to draw the hem of my skirt up my thighs and brushing her fingers provocatively against them. I had always opted for a more modest skirt length, usually just above my knees, putting this down to my mother’s insistence, particularly during my teenage years, that I shouldn’t dress, as she put it, ‘like a tart’. Although she hadn’t been quite as condemnatory during my time at university, somehow I had continued to feel the overwhelming presence of the guilt-bearing, slightly puritanical ghosts of her words roaming through, and haunting, my head. At that moment, some of them broke free. “My mother doesn’t like me wearing shorter skirts, Miss Hamilton,” I said. Veronica, totally unperturbed by this apparent spiritual ...