Beginnings: Chapter 1 - Veronica - Sex Stories

Beginnings: Chapter 1 - Veronica

... have a chat, shall we, Lucy?” I followed Veronica through the reception area and out of the main office door, into the still stifling early evening sunlight, tottering gracelessly under the weight I was holding in my arms and three inch heels that my feet were not forgiving me for what I was putting them through. Fortunately, Veronica was clearly barely aware of my mental and physical discomfort; we were barely through the doors before her state-of-the-art phone was in her hand and she was tapping the screen purposefully. Within seconds she was engaged in conversation with someone, obviously discussing one of her cases. I was left in no doubt that she was not a woman to say ‘no’ to lightly. “Well,” she said, “I can tell you this. If I don’t see that consent form on my desk by first thing on Monday morning, we both know what is going to happen, don’t we. Now have I made myself perfectly clear?” She tapped the screen abruptly, ending the call without further ado. “People usually end up seeing things my way eventually, Lucy,” she said, swivelling smoothly towards me and smiling faintly. “They usually find it makes life so much easier for them in the long run. I am sure you will find that out as we get to know each other a little better. Here we are.” She pointed towards some hazardous looking stone steps which spiraled downwards towards the door of a quiet-looking wine bar. I followed her cautiously down the steps, one nervous hand gripping a cool metal handrail for support, ...

... the other clutching the bloated file of papers, negotiating each precarious stone step as though it were covered in a smooth sheet of treacherous glass. “The Water Hole” was a wine bar I had only visited once before, some three years earlier, when I had been out with some friends on a night out before leaving for university. It was one of those quiet, rustic places with low beams and low light, and with intimate booths that were hidden from one another by wood and opaque glass partitions. Veronica selected a booth, slipped the brief case from her shoulder onto a chair and motioned for me to sit down. “What would you like to drink, Lucy?” Her eyes met mine and once more I inexplicably found my ability to form coherent responses to simple questions had abandoned me. “Erm, could I possibly have.......I don’t know....a fruit juice?” Another half-smile played across Veronica’s lips.” “You do find making decisions a little difficult, Lucy, don’t you. How about you just let me decide for you?” I nodded again, with a feeling of dependency and vulnerability washing over me like an inevitable tide once more. As Veronica left to get the drinks, my mind started to question itself all over again. Why had I always been so timid? Why did I find making decisions so difficult? Why, in spite of my academic success, did I have so little confidence in myself? These and other similar questions had haunted my thoughts for years, without any sign of resolution. I had managed to reach the age of ...