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Emily had been shopping all day. By lunch she'd seen
so many furniture stores it felt as though she were becoming part of the
furniture herself.
"Can't we just get that leather one from Harvey's?" she asked her husband,
Nick. "I really liked it."
Nick dismissed her. "The colour's wrong. And it's way too expensive. Now,
what do you think of this one?" As usual, he brushed her comments off and
went to test-sit on a garish zebra-patterned monstrosity over by the porch
swings.
Emily rolled her eyes and sighed. She no longer cared about buying a new
couch. All she wanted to do with take her shoes off and relax, maybe open
a bottle of wine and get close to Nick like she hadn't done in... was it
that long?
It seemed an eternity since they'd actually sat and talked, longer since
they'd made love in the tender fashion that left her breathless and close
to tears with joy. Now he was always busy, always keen to acquire new
things with his new-found wealth from his up-and-coming job. It wasn't how
things were meant to be, but she'd kept thinking, It won't last long, he's
just getting settled, things will be better soon.
Watching him puff up cushions and bounce exuberantly on springs, she felt
restless and frustrated. What's more, the coffee from an hour ago had done
it's work, and the urge to pee was growing stronger by the minute. They
never have public toilets in these places, she thought to herself,
shifting from foot to foot.
"Can we go soon?" she asked Nick, but he was grilling a sales assistant
over possible discounts on the zebra. Finally unable to bear the pressure
on her bladder, Emily sidled up to a female assistant and asked to use the
staff toilet.
"Sure," the woman smiled. "Just head down that corridor, turn left, and go
through the door marked STAFF." Emily didn't bother to tell Nick where she
was going; he wouldn't listen anyway.
Hurrying down the corridor, she went through the STAFF door and emerged
into another white hallway with several exits leading off it. Desperate,
she accidentally opened a door marked PRIVATE STOREROOM, glimpsing
numerous pieces of brightly coloured furniture before she ducked back out,
and into the toilet.
Relieved at last, she studied her face in the washroom mirror. She was
attractive, she knew that. A number of men had propositioned her before
Nick came along, and all because of her looks. She wondered what her life
would be like if she'd accepted any of them...
Back in the hallway, she was overcome by a whimsical desire to look at the
furniture in the private storeroom. Imagine if she found the ideal couch,
all by herself! Indeed, out of the corner of her eye she'd spotted a
strange looking red velvet armchair that she wouldn't mind sitting in, if
only to rest her feet for a moment.
Checking to make sure the hall was deserted, Emily quietly slipped into
the dim storeroom and studied the luminously upholstered chairs and sofas.
The designs were experimental, without doubt. Some didn't seem to fit the
role of couch at all. Again, the scarlet armchair in the corner caught her
eye. It was covered in lush velvet, and the shape of it seemed more like a
frozen wave, or a pair of lips, than a piece of furniture. The curved
headrest seemed designed to comfort and reassure, while the seat cushion
looked ready to accept any weight with pleasure.
She padded over, slipped off her shoes, and guiltily sat down. Immediately
the chair embraced her; it was soft and encompassing, like she'd just sat
down in a blob of red jelly. The luxurious fabric caressed her skin. She
sank back, sighing, and the chair welcomed her further into its folds.
Closing her eyes, she let a feeling of blissful relaxation wash over her.
Moments later, she realised the chair was moving. The backrest had begun
to squirm rhythmically, gently massaging her lumbar area, while another
cushion attended to the sore muscles around her neck. With a barely
audible clicking sound, the footrest automatically sprung up, lifting her
bare feet off the ground. It too began to move, vibrating against her
tired calves.
Emily couldn't keep the grin off her face. Now this was a comfortable
chair! It had only been a few minutes, yet she felt completely enveloped
in pleasure, the red velvet cushions surrounding her and pleasantly
touching her flesh.
A bizarre idea struck her. Wouldn't it be fabulous to sit in this chair
naked? She brushed the thought away; it was ridiculous to even think it.
Nonetheless, as the massage relaxed her further, and as the velvet
inflamed her nerves, she began to seriously toy with the idea. It would be
nice... sexy, even. The whole back area had seemed deserted, and no-one
knew she was in here. Even if she only did it for a minute, it wouldn't
hurt, would it?
She grinned. What the hell. Just for a minute.
Almost giggling to herself with guilty pleasure, Emily slipped her skirt
and blouse off, letting them fall to the floor nonchalantly. Her underwear
followed, and she lay back into the squirming armchair with exquisite joy.
Now the velvet was tickling her buttocks and fondling her back, and a new
movement began underneath her thighs. Curious, she opened her legs and let
the chair massage the inside of her thighs. Aroused by her own daring, she
could feel wetness forming between her slightly parted pussy lips. She
glanced around carefully; the room was still deserted. With small
movements, she eased her hand down to her clit and gently began to tease
herself, dipping her finger into her vagina and carefully smoothing the
wetness around her cunt.
Suddenly, the chair ceased movement, and she was startled into a moment of
panic. She half leapt out of the chair, reaching for her clothes and
looking desperately around for possible salespeople. To her relief, she
remained alone, and sank back into the chair, sighing. Her hand found a
previously unseen control panel on the armrest, and she absently pressed a
button, wondering what it did.
Abruptly the cushion beneath her began to move. She heard faint whizzings,
and without warning large leather clamps emerged from the leg and arm
rests, grabbing her limbs and pulling her firmly back into the soft grasp
of the chair. She was held fast, her legs open, her arms unable to fight.
Before she could think of how to respond, something emerged from the seat
cushion and positioned itself between her legs. It seemed mechanical, but
it moved with the fluidity of an octopus arm. The best description she
could think of was a mechanical tongue.
It turned out to be a good description. Without pausing, the tongue-thing
moved forward and gently began to lick her. With even strokes, it lapped
at her clitoris with a surety of purpose, as though it had been waiting an
eternity just to touch her. Occasionally it swirled its way around her
entire cunt before returning to her clitoris, licking it with just the
exact pressure and position as she had always liked.
Emily didn't scream. She was too busy moaning. Within instants she'd gone
from shocked surprise to absolute pleasure. As if sensing her reaction,
the chair began to massage her again, adding to her enjoyment of the
strange situation. Her hand moved to the control panel again, and she
pushed another button.
This time a second, fluidic extension emerged from the cushion and
promptly nuzzled itself into her dripping vagina. Now she could barely
keep herself from gasping. The second arm filled her, pressing upwards
towards her g-spot and moving in and out, while the tongue continued its
steady lapping, determined to exceed in giving her a stronger orgasm than
she'd ever had before. She writhed and her heart beat loud in her ears.
She felt the control panel at her fingers, and guessed what the third
button would do. Eagerly, she pressed it.
A smaller, thinner extension propelled itself from the chair and inched
its way into her ass, vibrating as it went. This time she yelped. It was
ridiculous that her body could feel this good without exploding. The
tongue lapped, the fluidic penis probed, and the ass thing... well, she
had no idea what it was doing. But it all felt amazing.
She closed her eyes and tried not to come too soon. She didn't want to
waste this experience. But the pressure was building. She opened them
again, just to see if there was a slow switch on the control panel, and
saw a male sales assistant standing before her, his half-shadowed handsome
face watching her intently. Shocked, she wanted to get up, but the chair
chose that moment to increase its rhythm. Slave to her own pleasure, she
was wrenched into a massive orgasm, the waves of intense feeling making
her cry out and leaving her almost dazed in the aftermath.
For a few moments she simply lay there, unable to do anything except pant
quietly. The leather restraints released, and the massage and vibrations
died. Then the horrible realisation hit her: a man had just watched her,
prostrate and naked, have sex with a chair. Oh my god. She didn't want to
open her eyes again, but she couldn't just sit there and hope he'd go
away. Lifting one eyelid, she saw he was still there, and now he was
smiling. Through her embarrassment, she couldn't help but notice how
friendly his smile was.
She tried to sit up, but the cushions still held her. Gently, the man
stepped forward and helped her up. His skin against hers was smooth and
tanned.
"I'm Jason. I invented that chair."
She was lost for words, standing naked and flushed before him.
He regarded her happily. "I think you've proved it works. Couldn't have
arranged a better test if I'd paid someone." His blue eyes sparkled with
success.
She grasped for a reply. "Jason? As in Jason Recliner?"
He laughed. "No. Although perhaps I should change my name. And perhaps you
should get dressed." He pointed at her crumpled heap of clothes, neglected
on the floor.
She dressed awkwardly. He didn't turn away, but studied her cheerfully as
she buttoned her blouse. At last she thought of something to say. "I'm
sorry. I shouldn't have been in here. I was tired... I just thought I'd
sit down for a while..."
"Do not concern yourself. It was a good decision, was it not? Of course,
you'll have to buy the chair now."
"I'll have to...?"
"Well, it's not really a 'try-before-you-buy' kind of thing, is it?" Jason
said.
"But-" She stopped herself, and turned to look at the armchair, quiet now
and looking for all the world like a normal piece of furniture. She
thought of how much pleasure it had just given her. Buying it didn't seem
such a bad idea. "Of course. I'd like to buy it. But is it the only one?
Do you have any others?"
"That's the prototype. But if it's that successful, I can make plenty
more. I think you've shown how well it works. Just tell Bob the sales
assistant to sell you the Loveseat. He'll know what to do."
Emily did her best to straighten her hair, tried to look presentable for
her return to the showroom. She had no intention of telling Nick what had
happened, nor of letting him know what their new Loveseat was capable of.
She turned to go, yet something held her. "Do you make any other kind of
'loveseat' Mr Recliner?" she asked with a half smile.
He returned her grin. "I've got a few plans still on the drawing board."
"I'll leave my name and number with Bob," Emily grinned. "Let me know when
you need another test done." |
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