Like David Copperfield, I want to start at the beginning, as "I was born ....". So you'll understand how I came to be the person that I, Sonia Barron, nee Sonia de Beaumanoir, am now. In the beginning, I was born on the beautiful island of St. Martin in the eastern Caribbean. My father's parents immigrated before WWII from France and my father was born there as well.
My maternal grandmother was from an old but poor French colonial family. She became pregnant during the war, but refused to say who the father was. It was suspected in the village that she had had a love affair with an American serviceman, as their was a small military base on St. Martin at that time. Then she died in childbirth. My mother was raised in an orphanage run by the parish church. Both of my parents grew up in the small village of Grand Case on the northern coast of St. Martin, and fell in love as teenagers. When I was born in 1970, only my paternal grandmother was still alive, and she lived with us in a hillside villa above the town and beach.
Both of my parents were schoolteachers, and I was raised to speak very correct French, not like the Creole many other children spoke on the island. I also learned English from my father, who spoke it very well. When I was seventeen I earned a scholarship to the Sorbonne in Paris. During my first year there, my parents were killed in an auto accident. My grandmother told me not to come back, but to finish my studies. I acted the part of a "typical" student, meaning that I was at times a radical socialist, a communist, a marcher in street demonstrations, and all of the other roles that a rebellious adolescent can play. I had
petites flirts
, affairs, with other students, both men and women, and even one with a professor. However, through it all I managed to pursue my studies as well, and at the end of four years I had a good
diplome
in English and French literature.
Upon graduation, I hurried back home to my dear little island, where the sun shines year round and the trade winds blow cooling air from the East. Paris is a wonderful city, but too cold in the winter for those of us raised in the tropics. With my
diplome
, I had a vague idea of becoming a teacher like my parents. However, nature had blessed me with a good body and face and the blond hair of some Norman ancestors, and thus my grandmother was able to arrange a job for me in one of the exclusive fashion boutiques which are to be found in the capitol town of Marigot.
The shop is owned by Madame René, an elegant woman of a certain age whom Grandmother had known since childhood. Madame René took me in hand such that I acquired the sheen of glamour required to associate with the rich tourists and yacht people who come to St. Martin in high season. There were two types of clients who came to the shop; the middle-aged, dyed-hair women from cruise ships and the rich "trophy wives" of the yacht set. I was generally assigned to wait on this latter group, many of whom were scarcely older than myself. The commissions I made on the expensive dresses and accessories we sold were enough for me to keep up my parents' hillside villa where I still lived with Grandmother. Madame René provided me with a small wardrobe of dresses similar to those she sold, and I often modeled our stock for these clients.
Since shoppers rarely came in before lunch, I needed to work from about eleven in the morning to seven at night. In the mornings I often rode my little motor scooter down to the nude beach on Oriental Bay to sun myself or swim in the surf. When lying naked there on a towel, I often dreamed of the prince who would come to find and love me. When no one was looking, I would stroke my nipples and pussy lips pretending that it was he who was making love to me.
However, I did not have a steady lover. There were few really eligible men on the island, and Madame René had taken me aside once to say, "Sonia, my child. I don't want you to throw yourself away on some local shit with no prospects. With your face and body, you must find a rich man who will make you his mistress, or even marry you. Then you'll be provided for. Wait for your chance."
I must say that this was indeed practical advice, and I followed it in general. But I missed the carefree affairs of college days, and on occasion took occasional fucking weekends with some man or other who took my fancy. Occasionally old friends or former lovers from Paris would arrive on vacation, and I was happy to have trysts with them.
My life changed forever when, one afternoon, a young woman, casually but expensively dressed, entered the shop. She was very beautiful, perhaps a year or two older than me and of the same height and weight, although I judged that her breasts were likely somewhat larger. She was accompanied by two men, one of whom remained outside on the sidewalk. The other was dressed in a type of uniform that is common to yacht crews, so I immediately assumed that she was from one of the big motor yachts that are continually moored in Marigot Bay. This latter gentleman settled into a chair near the back of the shop and appeared to take no further interest in us.
Madame René greeted her as a long-lost friend, invited her to sit down, and demanded that I bring a chilled bottle of Champagne and two flutes. After pouring their drinks, Madame René introduced the woman as Susan Barron and asked me to sit down with them.
"I want to see something new for the next few parties," she said in very fine French, "and all of my friends tell me that you have some of the best new dresses from Paris."
Madame asked me to pull out a number of our best, and most expensive, items from the racks to show to Madame Susan, who, from her accent, was an American with an expensive education in some finishing school or other. I held these up to myself to give her an idea of each one, and then was asked to model a number of them. All of these were backless evening or cocktail dresses and I wore nothing under them except panties.
Madame Susan regarded me with such a direct, piercing gaze that I felt myself become flustered. As I paraded and twirled before the women, I could feel my nipples harden under the frank gaze of the American and I'm sure that they were visible through the silk and crepe fabrics of the dress. I had not had sex with a woman for some time and Madame Susan had such an effect on me that I could scarcely breathe. When I had removed the last of the dresses in the changing room, I could not restrain myself from slipping my hands into my panties where a few minutes of attention to my moist clit brought on a quick hard orgasm.
On regaining my composure and returning to the salon, I found that Madame Susan and her escorts had departed.
Madame René told me, "Mademoiselle Susan will probably return in the next day or so to make her choices. I'm sure that you made a very strong impression on her and your modeling was very fine. She is one of the richest clients I have, and, if things work out, she can make our entire season by herself. Whatever she wants, be sure to please her in any way possible. Did you see the guy who stayed outside? That's her bodyguard. Her brother doesn't let her go anywhere alone in public, as he's afraid of kidnappers."
Indeed, Mademoiselle Susan did return the next day, and for several days in succession thereafter. This time, it was she who tried on all of the dresses herself, with me assisting her in the dressing room. In addition, she insisted that I also don the same dresses for her closer inspection, so that we were both practically naked before each other. She had magnificent breasts with pink nipples that hardened, like mine, in the well air-conditioned shop. She wore sheer lace panties so that the dark hair covering her slit was clearly visible. Often has she adjusted the drape of a gown on me, here breasts would brush my back or her hands would roam over my bosom.
Each day, she would depart without having purchased anything, trailing the two men behind her. On the fifth day of this, she appeared with another man, very well dressed in a suit and tie, whom she introduced as her brother, Monsieur Paul Barron. This Paul was in his early thirties, extremely handsome, and very fit looking. After a glass of champagne, Susan announced that Paul was here to take us to lunch, me included.
