Emily's Toy - Pt. 2

 

Tags: NSFW, unaware, slow shrinking, f/F/M, exhibitionism, alcohol, that boring person at a party who won't leave you alone UGH

Emily's Toy - Pt. 2

The party was predictably dull.  The Dabrowski’s were nice enough folk—for suburbanites anyway.  But it all felt so hollow. Nothing but an excuse to rub elbows with their well-to-do neighbors. Everyone too scared of making a faux paus to be anything other than the most boring version of themselves.

Emily remained obedient arm candy as Mrs. Dabrowski droned on about the charcuterie.

“I know the pomegranate melon balls might seem a bit risqué. But they really do offset the sharpness of the twelve-year cheddar.”

“Oh, I quite agree.”

The porcelain woman smiled, and thrust the tray under Emily’s nose. “Please, try the gouda. It’s a delight.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Emily lied.

Alex’s hand tightened imperceptibly on her shoulder. Her husband was engaged in an equally distasteful conversation, going over the intricacies of wood selection on the tricky fourth tee.

Her husband hated golf.

Each time she felt Alex shift, she braced herself.  She was very aware of the little plastic toy, their secret, tucked away inside her.  It took a rather intense keggle to find it, but at least practicing gave her something to do. There.  The tip of it was pressing against the rough mound of her g-spot.  A dangerously sensitive place. It was going to take all her concentration not to let out a long howl of approval when Alex finally triggered the remote.  How humiliating that would be. In front of all these fine and proper people. 

She’d be in such trouble when she got home.

But now they’d been at the party for thirty minutes, and still nothing. Alex was deliberately holding out on her.  A few times he even went so far as to reach into his pocket, where she knew the remote was hidden.  Giving her a sidelong glance, making sure she was paying attention. Only to pull out his phone instead.  It was driving her crazy!  Which was the intent of course.  But it made it hard to concentrate on small-talk, when she could sense her body growing hotter by the minute, feel her heartbeat in her throat.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mrs. Dabrowski’s motherly face registered a look of concern.  “You look flushed.”

“What?  Oh!  It’s just… rather warm in here, wouldn’t you say?  With all these people?”

The woman nodded.  “I suppose you're right.  My Charles does say I've a tendency to run the furnace too high.  I just get so cold, and this old house is just awful, so drafty.  Never mind the weather we’ve been having lately.  What a dreadful winter, and blustery too.  Why this is the coldest February I can remember, unless it was last year’s. Did you hear they’re forecasting snow again this weekend?”

“I hadn’t.  You must excuse me—I’m going to find something to drink.”

Alex gave her a look. “Don’t go too far, dear.  And holler if you need anything.”

She hurried away, feeling lighter already for having escaped that blackhole of a conversation.  Holler if I need anything indeed.  If only he’d give her a reason.

She was halfway to the punch bowl when he zapped her.

Emily stopped in her tracks, sinking her teeth hard into her lip. Silently, she let let herself luxuriate in the sensation.  The power and majesty that was the Aphrodite 2001. Her lips curled in a ‘getting-what-I-want smile’ as the tiny toy throbbed and pulsed inside her.

And then it was over. Emily covered her disappointment by fixing her hair and subtly adjusting her bra strap. The surprise must have made her flex pretty hard. Her cocktail dress was out of sorts, the spaghetti fabric lose around her shoulders. The frill even seemed to hang lower on her thigh.

Damn, this toy was good!

All at once in a much better mood, Emily made her way to the punch bowl, and poured herself a big glass from the plastic ladle. She sniffed it, cautiously. There was a tell-tale astringent scent to it, thank God. Faint, but definitely present. She took a sip. Then another.

“I’d be careful if I were you.” A smiling dark skinned woman idly brushed against Emily, reaching for the ladle. “It’s stronger than you think. My Henry here had two glasses, and started slurring his speech. He’s cut off.” She gestured with her chin at an embarrassed-looking man beside her.

“It’s the Caribbean rum,” the man who was apparently Henry said. He seemed to be annunciating his words rather carefully. “Sweet, but lord it sneaks up on you.” He laughed, worrying at a suit that seemed just a bit too snug on him. “Anyway I had to do something. This party is stupid.”

His partner looked scandalized. But Emily lit up.  Finally, a kindred spirit.  She favored him with a smile. “I’ll drink to that. There are so many things I’d rather do on a Friday night than pretend to be proper. To making things more interesting, then.” She raised her glass in a mock toast, downed it in a single go. It went down easy, but the after-burn made it clear that the drink was stronger than it tasted.

Henry looked impressed. He reached toward the punch bowl.

“No papí, I told you, you’re cut off.” The woman deftly moved the ladle out of his reach, then took a long sip from her own glass. “If that's how it's going to be, I suppose the three of us had better stick together. Wouldn’t want to see a pretty girl like her get falling down drunk, with no one to look after her. I’m Luisa, by the way. The one with the loose tongue is my husband.”

“Emily. And yeah, I appreciate the company. Y’all are way more entertaining than the other stiff-necks around here. But I didn’t come alone.” She pointed to her partner, who was still engaged in conversation across the room, his back to them. Emily noted his hand was still in his pocket. “That’s my husband, the one that dragged me here tonight.”

Luisa and Henry frowned in unison. The expressions were fleeting, gone in less than a second. Was that disappointment? Sometimes single guys gave her that look when she told them she was married.  But a couple?

Oh, this was worth investigating.

“Dragged you here, huh?” Henry was saying. He nudged his wife. “That’s how come I’m here. We don’t even live in the neighborhood. But my boss started inviting us to these things, and, you know. Gotta show off for the right people, she tells me.”

She slapped him on the arm. “It got you a promotion, didn’t it?”

“It did.  But I got it already. So why are we still coming?” He tugged hard on his collar. “I hate this suit.”

“It looks good on you, papí. Just a few hundred sit-ups and it’ll be perfect.”

Emily laughed. “Well I for one think it looks perfect already. Like, ah. It can’t quite hold in the wild beast of a man inside.  Straining to escape.” She gave him a smoldering little smile. “It’s a mood.”

Henry looked pleased.

“You’re going to give him a big head,” Luisa warned.

Emily smirked.  "Yeah.  I've got a talent for that, I'm told.  Want me to teach you?"

As if on cue, Emily felt the welcome bite of the Aphrodite 2001. This was a different setting. More subtle. Increasing in intensity over several seconds, so at first she hardly noticed it. She let her nostrils flare, letting out a long exhalation of breath, hiding her expression behind her plastic cup. God, this was good. It had been months since she’d so openly flirted with strangers like this. Combined with the warm glow of the alcohol, and the affirmation of the toy buzzing along inside her, it made Emily feel like she was floating.

The spaghetti strap of her dress slipped down her shoulder. Unthinking, she adjusted it.

Luisa was grinning up at her husband, affectionately stroking him on the chest. “He’s got a type you know. Short girls, who fawn over his muscles.  I don't let him play very often, but he seems to know how to pick them."

Okay, these two were definitely flirting with her. Emily considered how much breathing room she ought to give this situation. Because the way she was feeling at the moment, she was libel to get herself into trouble. She and Alex weren’t swingers by any means. Though a little playful competition could do him good, come to think of it. Especially after he’d forced her to get dressed up and everything.

“Well then,” she purred, affecting an expression she had always reserved for the very end of a photoshoot, back in the old days. 'Fucking the camera,' they called it.  “We know what Henry’s into.  But, Luisa. I’m just dying to know. What do you look for in a partner?"

The woman laughed to cover a blush. Her hand rest on the ladle, idly stirring in a slow circle. “I like when calls me his goddess.”

“Aye tejónita, I do that sometimes....”

“...But usually he calls me tejónita.” Luisa rolled her. “Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“Good.  But I'm guessing you didn’t mean, what do I like about Henry.”

“Mmm, no.” There went the vibrator again.  She caught herself gently rolling her hip in time with the long, building rhythm. She didn’t stop.

Luisa moved a bit closer, pitching her voice intimately low. “Well. If we're speaking about women, mind you.  I like them soft, and curvy. I like when they let me pamper them. Tell them they are beautiful. And I just love it so much, when they are shorter than me.” The woman winked.

“I do enjoy a good pampering,” Emily admitted. She gave Henry a wink. “But as for being shorter than you, that’s just not on the table. I’m five foot eleven, after all. I had a rather successful modeling career, before I was married. They like them tall, so the dresses hang, you know? Plus I had. You know... all of this.” She ran her hand over her body, inviting the two of them to look.

She was for sure taking this too far. She really needed to reign this in.  She took another sip of her drink.  

But now Luisa and Henry were exchanging an unusually long, contemplative look. “You know," Luisa said slowly.  "I know plenty of men who feel the need to inflate their ego.  And lie about their height.  Five eleven seems to be a popular number. Henry’s always telling people he’s that tall....”

“Woman!”

“...When he’s only five nine. But you can’t fool us, sweetie. I’ve been five one since high school.  And see? We’re almost the same height.” Luisa came and stood beside her, gesturing with her hand.

Emily blinked. “Um, okay? But you’re wearing heels....”

“So are you.  It's even footing, if you’ll excuse the pun.” The woman put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m fond of little shorties, like I said.  Just, it was funny you thought you could tell such a big lie.  Cute, actually.”

“It wasn’t, I mean, I never, I mean, I’ve always....”

Suddenly Emily was forced to bite down on her lip to keep a howl of pleasure from escaping. Alex had suddenly turned the Aphrodite 2001 up to its next setting, trying to catch her off-guard. It had worked.  Her fingers tightened around her drink, her hand slammed down on the table as she flailed for support. The sensation didn’t fade. It went on, and on.  She held her breath, as the powerful little toy continued to pulse rabbit-quick against her g-spot.

Luisa was watching her.  The woman’s expression openly lechorous. Usually Emily had to take her clothes off to get a person to look at her that way. Slowly, the taller woman put her arm around Emily's shoulder.  “You doing okay there little lady? Didn’t I warn you? Tiny things like you should leave big-people drinks alone.”

Emily didn’t even dare to breath as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. And as she stared at Luisa in silence, the woman’s full, upturned lips seemed to be getting higher.  And higher.