What Will They Think of Next?

Having sorted out the date and time, and with the guest list in Roz's capable hands there were a couple of things I needed to sort out. Steve was going to pick the dress but I needed to know in advance what I would be wearing so I had time to sort out the rest of my outfit. For all I knew Steve would pick something I had no shoes or bag for. And, although I'd flatly refused to submit to Steve's proposed rehearsal with the Senseo, I fully intended to try it out myself before the 'live performance'. I was by now familiar with the feeling of the Senseo while lying naked on the bed but I would be sitting, standing and wearing clothes on the night of the party. I had to know what to expect and, please God, learn a degree of self-control before Saturday.

***

I got the opportunity to give the Senseo a test run rather sooner than I expected. The following day I got a phone call from Steve to say that he had been summoned to some sort of crisis meeting in Brussels and was, even then, on his way to the airport. I had an unplanned evening to myself so I rang Roz and invited her over to help me out. I needed a substitute for Steve as remote control operator.

Once again she seemed to find the whole thing rather more amusing than I did but she agreed to ditch her Zumba class in favour of a glass or two of wine and a session as 'Senseomeister' as she so quaintly put it.

Before you get the wrong idea about Roz and me, I need to give you a bit of history. We first met at university, starting on the same day and meeting at a fresher's party in our first week.

We hit it off immediately, had a great deal in common and became extremely close friends. We shared a flat together and supported each other through the trials and tribulations of college life and beyond. There were drunken nights, exam pressures, boyfriend problems, family crises and all the usual joys and sorrows of two young women finding their feet in the world. Our friendship has withstood the test of time, Roz' marriage to Dave and my long-term partnership with Steve did not get in the way and, although we no longer see each other as often as we once did, we are still as close as ever. While I consider myself not-bad looking, Roz is drop-dead gorgeous and always has been. What's more she knows it. She is brazenly provocative in a way that I could never be. If the positions were reversed and Roz had lost the bet, she would likely insert the Senseo at the dinner table and pass the remote around to see who could give her the best time.

To give you some idea of what she's like let me tell you about 'Stiffy', the game she invented during the long, hot summer of '96 not long after we left university.

We were both starting out on our careers, sharing a flat together and commuting into London every morning by train. On one particular morning, Roz and I were sitting together minding our own business when I realised that the guy sitting opposite appeared to be mesmerised. He could not take his eyes off Roz. This was not all that unusual, Roz was, as I just said, a Looker.

What's more she habitually dressed to cause a stir. That day she wore a thin, white cotton blouse over a short navy skirt. I hardly ever knew her to wear a bra and that day was no exception. She had great boobs, and the thin blouse did little to disguise them, especially as Roz apparently had problems doing-up buttons. As I watched, the boy opposite became more and more uncomfortable, shifting his hands in his lap and folding them together to cover up an increasingly obvious erection. I turned to look at Roz, she was apparently lost in a daydream but, in an absent-minded sort of way, the ring finger of her right hand had disappeared between the buttons of her blouse and was gently stroking her left breast, just below the nipple.

She caught my eye and with a slight raise of the eyebrow, let me know that far from dreaming, she knew exactly what she was doing, and the effect it was having on the stranger opposite. I was, frankly, rather shocked, especially when Roz slowly leaned back in her seat, stretching the thin material of her blouse over her nipples -- which stood proudly erect, thanks, do doubt, to the work of her own teasing fingers a few moments earlier.

I watched a bead of perspiration trickle from the temple of the hapless victim and it was not just the weather that caused his temperature to rise, of that I was certain.

At this stage proceedings were interrupted as the train pulled in at my stop. I grabbed my bag, and with a, "call you later", to Roz, accompanied by what I hoped was a warning look, hopped off the train.

If Roz had detected my disapproval she showed no signs of remorse when we met that evening for an after-work glass of wine.

"What do you think you were playing at?" I asked, when we were seated at our quiet corner table. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"On the train this morning," I insisted.

"I was playing Stiffy, " was her enigmatic response.

This was my introduction to Roz's invention -- the game of Stiffy. After my initial shock I saw the possibilities and under Roz' patient tutelage became reasonably adept at playing it, although I never approached her skill and daring.

We refined the rules of Stiffy over time but the basic object of the game was to cause an erection in some poor, random male. Points were awarded for various achievements, one point for the basic task of causing a visible erection, up to a maximum of 10 points when the victim appeared to have missed getting off the train at his stop, either being too distracted to notice, or (even better) too embarrassed to stand up.

I never scored a 10, but Roz maintained that this is mainly down to my poor choice of victim and not to any shortcomings in my looks or ability to use my charms. Roz, of course, scored a 10 at least once a week. We had a lot of fun over that summer, playing havoc with the testosterone levels of unwitting members of the male of the species.

Looking back it's amazing we got away without being attacked but it seemed rather innocent to me at the time.

It's true that Roz has calmed down a little with age, but you now know the tenor of the woman that breezed into my flat clutching a bottle of chardonnay and kicked off her shoes before throwing herself onto my sofa.

"Get me a drink and that remote control, honey. I'm just the girl to Turn-You-On," was her command before she collapsed in a fit of laughter.

***

It took a glass of well-chilled white and the pained expression on my face to make her treat the situation with the gravity I felt it deserved and eventually she became efficient and practical.

"Go get the thing and let me see how it works," she ordered. I brought it from the bedroom and showed her. She was suitably impressed as I held the remote and she held the business-end between her fingers.

"Have you used it?" She asked.

"Of course I have," I replied, resolving to put embarrassment to one side. "I use it to masturbate on a regular basis but not with someone else in control and always lying down, not standing or sitting. I don't know what to expect."

"Only one way to find out girl," she said, "go put it in and make sure you have on the panties that you'll be wearing on Saturday. You need them to be tight enough so this little baby doesn't come out and that might make a difference to how it feels."

She was right. I hadn't given any thought to my underwear and I rummaged through my drawers to find a pair of panties that seemed fit for purpose. This was not going to be an occasion for the thong. I switched the Senseo to remote mode so that it was still, but could be activated via the external control, and, rubbing a little lube on both ends, inserted it into my pussy easing its small globular tip between my inner lips so that it rested snugly against my clitoris.

I pulled on the selected panties and stood up, smoothing my dress down over my thighs. The panties held the Senseo firmly in place and I could feel it there, tight up against my clit.

I took a few tentative steps. The act of walking had an effect, the Senseo gave my clit a gentle massage as I moved. It was far from unpleasant but walking around the bedroom a few times provided reassurance that without additional stimulation there was no danger of me climaxing. Walking downstairs was slightly more interesting, each step provoking a delicious little nudge from the Senseo. Maybe more delicious than I thought because Roz took one look at me as I walked into the sitting room and giggled.

"Hey girl. I haven't even switched it on yet and look at you!" We both laughed and I took a sip of my wine. I felt more relaxed then and a little excited too. I experimented; sitting on the sofa, on dining chairs at the table and walking about.

With the Senso on standby it was pleasurable but nothing to write home about so, after taking a few minutes to get used to the novelty of the sensation, I turned to Roz.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Think yourself into Steve's twisted mind, what will he do?" Roz thought for a moment.

"He's going to tease you as much as he can. He'll string it out, starting the moment you leave home. He'll want to keep you on the edge so he can control when you finally cum and, if I know Steve, that's going to be right in the middle of dinner. That's when everyone will be together and you'll be the centre of attention."

As Roz said it, I knew she was right.

"That's it!" I said, "he's going to wait for a lull in the conversation and, Pow! Louise gets to break the silence by having an orgasm. Jesus, I see it all."

Roz burst out laughing. "Forget the preamble then, you can manage that. Sit at the table, let's just see how good it's going to be." I leaned over to pick up the bottle of wine and Roz gave me a quick, burst which took me by surprise.

"Ahh!" I let out an involuntary gasp as the Senseo came to life between by legs.

Roz turned me off. "You need to learn to take your pleasures in silence," she shook her head in mock disapproval, and turned the Senseo on again. "Ohhh!" I couldn't stop myself. It felt good. My panties held the Senseo in the perfect place, my G spot and my clitoris were simultaneously getting massaged and the combination was a powerful stimulant.

"Better get used to it baby," Roz smiled ruefully, "this is what Steve is going to put you through."

"Jesus, I hope so," I whispered, more to myself than to Roz. The Senseo was working its magic, I felt myself flushing as the pleasure mounted, spreading from the gently pulsating device. My whole body was becoming sensitized. Even the feel of the rough pile of the carpet against the soles of my feet as I walked up and down the room was enough to set my nerves tingling.

I sat down on the dining chair breathing deeply, desperately trying to disguise my rising libido but the pressure of the Senseo on my clitoris increased when I was seated and the waves of sensation emanating from between my legs became more intense as a result. Roz sat down opposite me, watching my face carefully.

"You look as though you're having a good time," she said after eyeing me up and down.

"I... am... having....Ahhh... a good... time," I managed to get out between barely suppressed moans, "switch...the...damn thing...Ohh... off!"

She laughed. "No chance Louise, I'm enjoying this," she paused, "but not half as much as you seem to be. I think I'm going to get myself one of these Senseo things." She held up the remote control as if to tease me. "It's not even turned up full."

"Don't...you...Aaahhhh... dare!" I managed to get out, but with a gleeful grin she tweaked the button on the remote, the vibrations redoubled in power, and I was gone.

"Oh God....Oh God.....yes...yes...YES..." I was incoherent as the waves of orgasm overtook me. Roz looked on with a mixture of amusement and awe written on her face as wave after wave of pure pleasure coursed through my body. It was not just the noise, not only did I fail to suppress my passionate cries, but I could feel my whole body stretch and release in rhythm with my climax.

Carried away on the river of sensation I curled my toes into the carpet, arching my back against the hard dining chair, clenching my thighs, squeezing the last ounce of feeling from the tiny wonder between my legs.

My nipples, hard and hyper-sensitive thrust against the thin material of my T-shirt, calling for attention. I did manage to restrain myself from actually taking them between my fingers and giving them the squeezing that they so much wanted, but it was a close run thing.

As the bursts of sensation gradually became less powerful, my incoherent cries waned in volume and my body became more my own.

"Turn it down," were the first coherent words I managed. Roz complied immediately, and the Senseo's movement declined in intensity. I rested back in my chair, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of release as my orgasm subsided. Roz waited a minute or two, before she spoke. "Had enough girl?"

"Yes, turn it off," I had certainly had enough. The vibrations were now a distraction and it was a relief when Roz switched the Senseo off. I relaxed into the immediate post-orgasmic glow, my mind for a moment still. We were both quiet.

I opened my eyes after a few moments, Roz was looking at me in a new and wondering way. I suddenly felt very close to her, I had performed, if that's the right word, a very intimate act in front of her. She had, I supposed, taken an active role even if it was by proxy. By the look on her face she felt the same way. There was a softness to her eyes that told me that behind her mask of humour and bravado she was touched. She spoke first, her voice was gentle.

"Wow Louise that was something else."

I felt the need to hold her so I stood up, feeling a little light headed. The movement, with the Senseo still in-situ, sent another small frisson of pleasure through my already sensitised pussy. She came round the table and we hugged each other, as though cementing the new bond of intimacy that had been created between us. "Let me go take the Senseo out and then we'll talk," I said, heading for the door. I did not want to walk upstairs with the Senseo inside me. Even the walk across the room was a bit uncomfortable, so I paused in the hall just out of Roz' sight.

I pulled up my skirt, slipped my soaking panties to one side and eased the Senseo out of my pussy. I switched it off and disappeared upstairs to the privacy of my bedroom.

***

Ten minutes later, cleaned up, I returned to the living room to find Roz sitting on the sofa deep in thought. I refilled my wine glass and made myself comfortable at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Now what?" was my opening gambit.

Roz smiled. "Yes, that's what I was wondering," she paused. "Louise, can I say something?"

"Of course," I said, "whatever you like."

"You're beautiful," she almost whispered. This was not what I was expecting, it was not like the Roz I knew and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Well thanks...er, what brought that on?" Was all I could think of to say.

"It's just that you're so in control normally. Watching you come like that, so wanton, so much outside yourself, I saw a part of you that I haven't seen before. Not in all the years I've known you."

I was touched, and I felt very close to Roz, but I needed the practical, dynamic Roz at that moment, not this new dreamy woman.

"No. It's the same old me, " I said, It's just that I don't make a habit of having sex with a bit of Swedish plastic while my best friend looks on."

She burst out laughing and the old, familiar Roz was back.

"No, I don't suppose you do. But you're going to have to do it again on Saturday in front of a room-full of people." Roz looked sheepish. "I'm sorry now that I invited a crowd of people. I really did think that you'd be able to cum without being noticed if there was a lot of background noise but if today's performance is anything to go by that's not going to happen is it?"

I didn't think so either.

"No it's not. Once I get to a certain point I lose control. I'll probably manage to be a bit less vocal, but not much."

"And acting like someone having a seizure?"

"The same probably."

Roz became business-like. "I thought so. We need a plan B." She was silent for a moment or two, obviously deep in thought. "I don't suppose you fancy taking the direct approach? Just announce the whole thing to the room as soon as you walk in. You tell Steve to do his thing. You provide the entertainment then we just sit down to an enjoyable dinner and put it behind us.

My look must have been sufficiently clear to communicate what I thought of this idea.

"Ah, well, no, perhaps not then," she said hurriedly.

By the end of the evening though, despite having consumed the best part of a bottle of wine each, we still had no firm idea of how we were going to manage things at the dinner party. Any faint hope I had of being able to maintain my composure under the tsunami of sensations that the Senseo induced was gone. I was mortified at the thought of revealing my most intimate self to even the small circle of friends that Roz had lined up but I could not think of a way out.

Roz, I was sure, was in two minds. On the one hand I think she felt for me but, on the other, she had at no time suggested trimming down the guest list, it would have been relatively easy to come up with an excuse. So some part of her was looking forward to the show.

I was not wholly reassured therefore when she said, "don't worry, I'll think of something," as she planted a parting kiss on my cheek, and left. I shut the door behind her and went to bed feeling decidedly tipsy and still deeply worried about the prospect that faced me, only few short days away.

***

Steve arrived back from his trip to Belgium the following evening and we had a pleasant enough dinner, exchanging our news over a simple meal. I told him that I had spent the previous evening with Roz but neglected to go into the finer details of our time together and he did not press for information. Once we had cleared away the dishes we went through to the sitting room and there, waiting on the sofa, was an elegantly wrapped parcel.

"It's for you," was Steve's response to my questioning look.

I carefully untied the ribbon and removed the paper. Inside the box, carefully wrapped in tissue paper, was a dress; and what a dress! Steve had chosen my favourite colour, it was a rich blue which complemented my auburn hair perfectly. I took the garment carefully from the box. Made from a smooth satin fabric, it flowed over my hands as I held it up for closer examination.

"It's the dress for you to wear on Saturday," Steve watched me closely as I examined the vision in partywear that he had given me.

"Wow Steve, I expected you to pick something from my wardrobe, not go out and buy something new. This must have cost a fortune." I had just caught a glimpse of the designer label. I stood up and unfolded the dress.

"It wasn't cheap," he admitted, "but I thought you'd look good in it."

I held the dress up. He was right, I would probably look good in it. There would certainly be plenty of me on show. The dress was far more revealing than anything in my current wardrobe. The length of the dress was fine, it was short but not too short. The top was a different matter. The dress was backless and the front consisted only of two narrow strips of fabric running from the waistline to fasten in a halter neck style. It would leave very little to the imagination.

I was speechless. It was a beautiful and no doubt expensive dress which in other circumstances I would have been delighted to receive but it was absolutely not what I would have chosen to wear for a dinner party, and particularly not for my forthcoming ordeal. It was absolutely guaranteed to make me the centre of attention, just when I was hoping to blend into the background.