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Chapter 03
Hot Veronique

©Julia Gentile 2011

This story continues to explore my passion for beautiful women in highly charged sensual situations. It is part of a longer story and you will enjoy it more and understand the context better if you have read the previous chapters of Trusting Rebekka. There’s more to come too; hope you like the drip-feed.

I also hope you like my writing style. If you do, please vote and leave comments; private or public. I love to hear about what people like, it makes the whole writing experience far more rewarding. If you don’t like this story, sorry but please look elsewhere for your pleasure. There’s plenty on Literotica to suit all tastes.

Love, Julia


I always feel worse in the morning if I’ve slept solidly for hours and hours than if I’ve slept only a short time and know I need to get up early. So, when the sound of knocking on an unfamiliar door penetrated deep into my semi-consciousness I struggled to respond and to react appropriately.

“Go away, I’m asleep!!” I complained, and buried my head under the soft goose-down pillows.

Again, insistent knocking. A female voice invaded my personal silence. I looked around the room, puzzled, then my brain whirred into life. The room, the smells, the bed, my oily hair. It all clicked into place. I sat up and called out “Who wants me?”

Rebekka breezed in uninvited and set a large tray on the side table, threw back the curtains and promptly climbed into bed next to me, uninvited.

“I do,” she purred, then in an annoyingly bright and cheerful voice she chirped: “but c’mon sweetie, it’s 10:30 and you need some breakfast to restore your energy first.” That confirmed what I suspected; she knew all about last night with the Perfect Ones. She reached across and poured two long coffees.

I sipped mine and gradually rejoined the human race, looking at Rebekka next to me and reminding myself what a beautiful specimen of it she was. Propped up by several plump pillows and wearing a silk robe, an inviting smile and probably nothing else, she encouraged me to consume the delicious pastries, fruit, berries, yogurt and chocolate cake.

“We have a busy day today,” she explained, “Well, what’s left of it. Some friends are joining us for a meal by the pool. They will arrive at 7. Then we are going out to a very select club in the city. Allowing time to get ready, and assuming you’ll want to use the gym and sauna first, we need to be back from shopping around 3:30. So, sweet Julia, you have 30 more minutes more in bed then swoosh!”

Wow, ‘swoosh’ indeed. Busy day.

“So what exactly are we shopping for?” I enquired.

“Since you had no idea what I had planned for you I doubt you brought the right clothes, so I’ll treat you. In the pool, and on the terrace too, you’ll just need a bikini, and perhaps a sarong?”

It was already hot and sunny outside; I nodded approvingly.

“We can buy them in the city. For later, how about a long clingy bias-cut dress, figure-hugging style? That will turn heads. I know the perfect shop, trust me.” Sounded good.

“Tomorrow we’ll rest during the day, but in the evening we’re having a small private party here. It’ll be 1960s themed. There’s a retro shop in the city centre where we can pick up an outfit for you.” Then Rebekka dropped her voice, adding; “And of course, you’ll need some nice lingerie.”

It seemed weird having my life and my wardrobe planned out for me. It all sounded good though. As I sucked on a strawberry I wondered who these friends might be, and if the Perfect Ones fitted in anywhere …

Rebekka stayed whilst I ate then kicked off the covers, commenting on my nightwear as she leaned across and kissed me, brushing her silk-covered breasts against mine and confirming: “It’s going to be a very exciting couple of days … see you in the hall at 11:30” and she wafted out of the room leaving a trail of exotic perfume, and me wondering what she actually looks like under her robe.


Rebekka introduced me to her driver Veronique in the hall and we chatted during the short drive. She could lend me some gym-wear, which meant one outfit less to buy, and she also offered to join me working out, which was kind.

She dropped us in the main square and Rebekka ‘swooshed’ me around her favourite shops. Almost everywhere we went they knew her by name and we received masterclass levels of service. I soon had a complete 60s outfit consisting of a pink PVC miniskirt with a wide red leather belt, a pale grey sleeveless turtle-neck rib-knit clingy top, knee-high vintage boots with 4″ heels and a wide-brim hat. ‘Just add pink lipstick and ridiculously-long false eyelashes for the total look!’

I also now possessed (as all this was mine to keep, apparently, courtesy of my wealthy and very generous hostess for the weekend – ‘payback time?’ did I hear myself asking?) a slender purple floor-length slinky dress that clung to me all the way from its strings-of-pearls almost-not-there ataşehir escort shoulder straps, moulding to my boobs then clinging tightly down my body, staying ooooo-so-close to my hips and all the way down my legs. Except that it had a long slit all the way up the left side, from my new stilettos right up to top of my thigh. When I pointed out to Rebekka that everyone could see what style of panties I was wearing, what colour they were, and could probably read the label too, her solution was simple: “Well don’t wear any then.”

So, that’s no bra … and no panties. Naturally. And when I walk – what then?

Rebekka led me amongst small select boutiques down narrow streets and through bustling squares. We dived through a dark doorway that passing browsers would scarcely notice but which opened out into a veritable emporium of stunning lingerie, sleepwear and swimming costumes.

Miranda, the owner, was probably in her fifties but still very glamorous. Rebekka explained what we were looking for and soon all 3 of us were locked in a large changing room with armfuls of bikinis, bras and panties. They had me naked in 60 seconds and I must have tried on a dozen or more sets, with both women admiring them and me with equal enthusiasm. I felt fairly relaxed about it all; Rebekka had seen me almost naked the previous week and after all, Miranda was a professional who saw nude female bodies for a living. Nice job, I mused.

We left with two bikinis; one was quite sober and demure in plain black and left everything to the imagination. The other was made in a rich cream-coloured lycra, was the opposite of demure, and left almost nothing to the imagination. It also came with a matching coverall robe to temper its revealing yet classy design. Rebekka also bought me one of those retro burlesque corsets that squeezes your boobs into cones, two delectable ultra-sophisticated bra and pantie sets by one of the top Italian designer houses which that made me feel and look amazing, and one set just like Rebekka’s ‘Riot of Straps’ but in silver. Not quite as slutty as it sounds, but not far off.

Miranda was very attentive, and I got the impression she and my hostess were ‘close friends’.

Rebekka called Veronique and asked her wait another 30 minutes then bring the car to the coffee shop where she had first picked me up.

It was only a short walk from Miranda’s shop. We ordered double espressi and Rebekka introduced me to some friends there; a couple of them were going to be at the club that evening so she introduced us.

“Martelle darling, come and say hello to Julia, she’s my new discovery and she’s coming out with us tonight.” Martelle was model-thin and very, very tall even in flat sandals. She double-air-kissed me, whispering, “You’ll enjoy tonight, promise.” Her straight blonde hair was cut sharply into the back of her neck but left long at the front in a steep, well-defined wedge and the tendons of her neck and shoulders stood out prominently. In fact, everything about her was slender and highly-stressed, like a tightly-strung musical instrument.

Rebekka also introduced me to a woman of black African origin whose family had obviously become partly Europeanised but she had maintained her smooth dark brown skin, prominent features and very full pouting lips. She had her tight curly black hair fixed up in a wheatsheaf bundle.

“This is Gloria,” Rebekka announced. “And you will always know when she walks into a room – everyone stops and looks,” I could see why. Her figure was stunning, with firm large breasts very high on her ribcage and with the tightest curviest ass that you could ever hope to bump into. She knew how to show it off too, in a tight jumper, even tighter knee-length skirt and a wide belt around her narrow waist. She was wearing 4″ heels with platforms but still could not compete with Martelle. The two women had an intense chemistry between them though and they communicated between themselves mostly by touch not words. We nibbled at snacks from the counter and babbled as a foursome about politics in art and fashion until Rebekka grabbed my arm, made our excuses and led me running with armfuls of expensive carrier bags to where Veronique had pulled up.


I was lying naked on my big soft sofa surrounded by my purchases, all of which I’d tried on again in private whilst looking in the mirror, which I love to do. It arouses me. My mind was filled with images of Miranda, Martelle and Gloria as I idly ran a fingertip over the smoothness of my bare pussy mound.

The knock on the main door to my suite startled me. “Hold on, who is it?” I enquired.

The muffled voice was Veronique’s. I’d forgotten that I’d agreed to meet her at Rebekka’s gym in the basement. I wrapped myself in the ‘coverall’ that matched the cream bikini, realising that name is a very misleading description of its limited abilities, and opened the door. She looked me up and down admiringly and remarked; “Wow, this is a lovely surprise. ataşehir escort You look gorgeous; did you have a change of plan?”

Having only seen her in her sensible driver’s uniform, I too was stunned. Veronique’s small but cute body was sheathed in tight blue lycra that finished at her knees and elbows and it appeared that she had nothing else on underneath. She had her hair up in a rough pile and even without makeup she was quite attractive.

“Erm, no.” I replied. “Sorry, I’d forgotten about the gym. “Did I shock you?”

“Julia, nothing in this house shocks me any more,” Veronique replied, smiling wryly. Then without warning she threw me a drawstring kitbag, giggled sweetly and promised not to peep if I changed in the bedroom.

We chatted all the while we worked out; Veronique had an easy, likable personality and we got on well, talking about everything and nothing as we exercised in the small but well-equipped gym.

Inevitably the subject drifted onto Rebekka. Veronique had worked for her for 2 years; “As well as driving I look after the management of the house itself. She has other staff including an excellent chef called Doritz who is not particularly attractive to look at but has a lot of other qualities.” Veronique winked.

We switched machines and she continued: “I know you’ve already met Rebekka’s two Personal Assistants, Laisha and Nassri. Paula is the only other employee who lives here. I guess you’d call her the housemaid but that undersells her status and her skills. She’s fun to be with. Then of course Rebekka has her business employees based in the company offices in the Embassy district. They sometimes come here for meetings and events. Only women, never any men.”

Veronique explained that Rebekka makes her money in export trade, commodities and investments. “She is very well connected, well known in the city and very popular. She has some unbelievably gorgeous friends who often come to stay here. You are extremely fortunate to be invited. Rebekka has seen something very special in you Julia. She likes you; she told me so. If you trust her and give her what she needs she will repay you in unimaginable ways.”

Feeling brave, I enquired exactly what Rebekka ‘needs’ were. Veronique put her finger to her moist lips. “I’m sure you will find out. She has very special sexual … interests. She, well, likes to watch attractive women. I’ll say no more.”

She changed the subject and asked me about my work as a journalist. Veronique made me feel relaxed and felt no qualms when she suggested we shower and dive in the sauna.

Soon we’d peeled out of our damp lycra and were nude under the monsoon showers. Veronique’s body was not exceptional in any particular way, just lovely to look at. Her hips were narrow, her waist was quite straight and her legs were neither especially short nor long. Her boobs were her best feature, being perfectly natural, average size and whilst not exactly droopy, they had a nice sway when she moved. I was getting turned on watching her soaping and rinsing herself and my nipples showed it; Veronique must have noticed. Calm and controlled as ever, she complimented me politely on my body as we towelled off. But then, standing naked in front of me, she ran her finger all the way down my arm and the back of my hand. A shudder rippled through me and she smiled. She adopted a coy, sexy pose, squeezed my hand, looked straight at me and simply said: “I like you, Julia,” then led me to the small sauna. The atmosphere between us was becoming increasingly erotic and when I picked up a towel on the way and began to wrap it around me she stopped me, confirming: “You won’t need that.”

After about 10 minutes in the heat Veronique realised I was staring at her, mesmerised.

Her olive skin was smooth and very tanned all over and now thousands of tiny beads of perspiration had broken out and clung to her, sparkling under the single spotlight. I was captivated, and becoming very aroused.

“Oh, yes,” she commented, “You like that? I have very oily skin. The sweat doesn’t run off me.”

I paused for a second, unsure if she was ready for my suggestion, and unsure whether Veronique was Rebekka’s private property – out of bounds – unattainable – forbidden fruit.

I looked into her big brown eyes. She didn’t look away; we locked our gaze. The atmosphere was hotter than the pine bench I was sitting on. I was naked, horny and about to take a big risk.

“I could lick it off.”

I watched for a reaction. Something. Anything! Or would she just slap me. How could she stay so cool in the heat of the sauna?

“Be my guest,” she replied.

Neither of us blinked. My heart raced. She smiled, and invitingly held up one arm. I took her hand and, still looking up at her alluring eyes, began to lick her smooth forearm. I tasted her saltiness and it was like drinking at an oasis in the desert.

She made encouraging noises and the tension eased a little, but I was hot for her now in every sense and anadolu yakası escort licked all the way up her arm, over her shoulder and up the side of her neck. I did the same on her other arm. Then I knelt between her feet, put my hands on her waist and moved so my face was directly in front of hers. Sweat was running down me, exaggerating every sensation on my hypersensitive skin. My breathing was deep and irregular. I wanted her. Badly. I was certain she would be able to smell the scent of my excited pussy in such a confined space. I didn’t care.

She kissed me.

A long intense passionate kiss. She tasted delicious and we made wet sucking noises as our lips pressed and pouted and our tongues fought and probed.

We came up for air.

“Lick me again, Julia,” Veronique whispered in my ear. “Lick me everywhere.”

Suddenly her hands were all over my body and we pressed together urgently in the heat. We slid over each other in a torrent of perspiration and her skin felt incredibly soft against mine.

“Lie down,” she suggested, and soon one of her delectable cute boobs was swaying directly above my mouth.

“Lick me, Julia,” she repeated and lowered her small but perfectly-formed pink nipple onto my impatient tongue. At the same time she clamped her eager mouth over my erect nipple and I was in ecstasy.

We licked and lapped, sucked and nibbled. Her hands were everywhere, constantly rubbing my ass, my hips and thighs and her mouth was exploring all over my lower body. I moved down until my lips were kissing her firm abs. I was so horny for her and wanted to taste her smooth pussy, but Veronique sat up and pushed me away.

“Fuck this Julia I’m burning up in here!” she exclaimed, dragged me out of the sauna by the arm and under the shower. We pressed our excited bodies together under the sudden deluge of cold water and Veronique dug her fingers into my drenched hair, pulling my face to her and kissing me wildly. We wedged our thighs between each other’s legs and rode, humped and gyrated urgently.

Out of control I pulled her by both wrists back into the exercise room and, still dripping wet, we fell onto a big floor mat. Our hands explored our bodies and Veronique grabbed at my boobs. “Your tits are fucking gorgeous Julia,” she growled, casting off any tattered remains of her cool, controlled exterior. She sucked a nipple hard into her mouth, biting it and making me shout in delicious pleasure-pain.

Still pumped up from the workout we were like animals, rolling on the padded floor. Soon I was flat on my back, knees bent and as wide apart as I could force them whilst Veronique plunged her fingers into my welcoming vagina. First one, then two then three; my pussy was so wet and open so they slid in easily. She then clit-frigged me with the tip of her thumb and reached up to pinch my erect nipple between the finger and thumb of her free hand. Gradually she pinched harder, digging her nail into my throbbing nipple but the feelings were so intensely sexual that I didn’t feel pain, only a growing need to cum.

I lay back with my arms stretched wide, flat on the mat, looking at Veronique kneeling beside me with beads of perspiration standing proud on her amazing skin, her cute boobs swaying as she moved in time to her finger-fucking my swollen pussy.

“Let me lick you again, please!” I pleaded, expecting a smooth salty arm or leg to lap and taste. But Veronique had another idea. She swivelled around and knelt astride my ears so her shins pinned my arms down on the mat. Still fingering me, she squatted back and planted her aromatic pussy right on my face, growling, “Lick that, you sexy bitch” and pinching my other nipple until I screamed.

“Don’t worry Julia, it’s all sound-proofed down here,” she assured me with a wicked laugh, then dug her thumbnail in even harder.

I licked her bitter juices from her lovely small pussy lips and tongue-fucked her as she repeatedly rocked her hips above my face.

My orgasm was getting closer and Veronique increased the pace of her thumb-frigging on my clit. She shifted position slightly so I could suck and lick her sweet bud and she let me know exactly what effect I was having on her in an unbroken tirade of expressives and expletives:

“Of fuck yes Julia yes yes do it more oh god yes lick me lick my clit yes fuck me Julia fuck my cunt suck me ohhh fucking shit you are so good ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod yes yes suck my clit yes lick me lick it yes just there more more more ohhhhhh yesssssssssssssssss” and she slammed her hot pulsing pussy down on my face as she climaxed.

She broke the rhythm on my clit only briefly whilst her orgasm consumed her then, kindly remembering to move so I could breathe again, she resumed her fingering and frigging whilst grinding her trim tummy against my flattened boobs. Pinned down from the waist up and at her mercy, I lifted my legs high in the air and spread them wide apart giving her easy access to my swollen gaping slit. “Oh my god Julia you look amazing, I want to climb inside your cunt and get swallowed up in your deliciously sexy body.” My pussy was so open it seemed that might be possible. Finally my orgasm took hold and I bucked and writhed under her, closing my legs and clamping her hand against my throbbing climaxing pussy.

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