hertz
Posts: 1315
Joined: 8/7/2010
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'It's here...' she says. '...in the kitchen. I really am grateful for this.'
I follow her through the house to the narrow galley style kitchen at the back of the house.
'This' is Chelsea's laptop, which, according to Chelsea, is showing her photographs of naked women in open and shameless poses instead of the celebrity gossip she is really looking for.
'Sit round here' she says, and shepherds me round to the bench seat on the other side of the narrow kitchen table. I shuffle along to the middle, staying low to avoid the wall cabinet overhead.
Would you like a drink while you work?' she asks.
'I have wine, beer... tea, if you want.'
I open the laptop and plug the power lead into the back. 'What are you drinking?' I ask her.
'I'm going to have wine...' she says 'It's not too early, not really.'
She giggles. 'There's a socket, there, behind you.'
With everything plugged in, I press the power button, and the machine beeps into life.
'OK, I'll have wine too.' The laptop clicks and whirrs, and the monitor lights up, displaying the familiar operating system loading screens.
The laptop is still loading. This is pretty much as I expected. Now the operating system has fully loaded, the machine is busy starting a selection of background programs, some good and useful, and some, no doubt, which will be responsible for the images Chelsea has been seeing. It all slows things down. As I watch the monitor, I can hear Chelsea opening a wine bottle, and the glugging noise of glasses being filled.
'Here...' she says. 'It's from the supermarket down the road - it's really nice.' She passes me a glass of the lightest, brightest looking red wine I have ever seen. It looks like cherryade. As I look up from the glass, I find myself looking down the front of Chelsea's blouse. She isn't wearing a bra, and I see her breasts and nipples. I look back to the monitor, quickly, feeling vaguely guilty.
The laptop has settled down now, and waits for the first command. Chelsea comes around and settles next to me. I feel her leg pressing against mine.
'It's when I go on the internet' she explains. 'It happens straight away.'
I click the 'Internet' icon on the desktop, and the web-browser begins to load. I find myself unprepared for what happens next, despite Chelsea having given me a pretty clear idea of what to expect. Suddenly, there is a naked girl on the screen. She's on a bed, completely naked, with her hands behind her head, her thighs spread wide open, and her knees bent so that the soles of her feet are together facing each other. The image leaves nothing to the imagination. As I watch, the image changes, and there is another girl, equally naked, but this time on her parted knees, with her bottom in the air, her head down, and the image, taken from behind her, is focussed in tight on her pussy and... Then there's another, in a thin night-shirt, and tied to a bed, with her legs stretched wide over her head...
'You're enjoying this too much' says Chelsea. I can feel myself blushing. 'The next girl is really pretty.' she adds, as the current image fades into a new picture, where a stunningly beautiful blond girl, dressed in the shortest of white skirts, is pushing a huge plastic penis into herself. I close the browser. I can feel Chelsea's eyes on me, but I am too embarrassed to look at her.
'Can you fix it?' she asks.
'Yes - give me a few minutes...'
I make a few adjustments, restart the laptop, and the girls are gone. I am still feeling uncomfortable.
'Is that it?' asks Chelsea.
I tell her that the laptop is still running too slowly, and that I think there may be other things going on that need some attention, and I offer to sort them out for her.
'More wine.' she commands, and takes my glass.
In a few moments, she comes back, and places the glass in front of me. But she fumbles, I'm not quite sure how, and suddenly the glass is over, and I feel the shock of cold wine through my shirt on my stomach, and down onto my lap.
'Oh, my God!' she screams. 'I am so sorry! Here, let me... Oh, no...' and she's suddenly dabbing at me with a table cloth she has grabbed from the side. But it's too late, really - I am soaked. I take the table cloth and try to dry myself off, but it's useless. 'I am so clumsy!'
'That's going to stain.' says Chelsea. 'You're going to have to take it off. I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I can run it through the wash a minute, and tumble it. It won't take long. Come on, take it off.'
'I don't have anything else to wear.' I tell her. 'I'll be OK...'
But I know I won't be. The entire glass, and it is a big glass, has soaked into my shirt and trousers and underwear.
'Wear this' she says, grabbing a pink t-shirt from a pile of folded clothing on top of the tumble dryer. 'It's clean.'
'Hurry up' she says. 'I won't look. Here - a cloth to wipe yourself down. You can use the shower if you want.'
I take the tea-towel she offers and tell her that the shower is unnecessary. I feel vulnerable, suddenly. I don't want to give my shirt and trousers up, but it feels like the only way. I feel the cold wine spreading, as it soaks further through my clothing. I decide to go with it. Chelsea is obviously aware of my discomfort.
'If you stay that side of the table, and I stay this side, then I won't see anything' she says. 'I'll turn around while you change shirts'.
I quickly change into her t-shirt, discovering that it is one of those short ones that doesn't even cover my belly-button. And it is tight. I'm sure I must look ridiculous in it. I take off my trousers. The wine makes my underpants stick to my groin.
'You're going to have to give me your pants too.' says Chelsea. I can hear the amusement in her voice.
'I'll be alright' I tell her. I am not sure if I can deal with that level of vulnerability.
'No, you won't' she says. 'Look, they'll be washed and dry in no time. You can borrow a pair of my knickers if you want' she says. 'They'll be a bit uncomfortable, but they might at least cover you.' She holds one hand out to take my pants from me, and in the other offers me something skimpy and lacy of her own. 'Come on, get them off!' She laughs.
'No, it's OK.' I tell her. But it so isn't. It's wet, and cold.
I'm going to have to do this, I decide.
'I'll keep the tea-towel.' I tell her.
I remove my pants, now feeling very uncomfortable indeed, and dry myself off with the tea towel before laying it on my lap, to hide my nakedness. Chelsea takes the wet clothes from me, bundles them into the machine, and switches it on.
'I'm really sorry' she says, passing me another glass of wine, but very carefully this time.
I try to distract myself from the situation by clearing a variety of problem files from the laptop in front of me. Chelsea sits across from me, talking about her week.
Suddenly the doorbell rings.
'Oh, my God!' says Chelsea. 'I completely forgot! That'll be Annie and Tammie'
I'm suddenly really anxious. Chelsea, Annie and Tamsin are a nightmare at the office when they get together. And I'm here, in Chelsea's kitchen, wearing one of her tops and nothing else. I don't have anywhere to run.
'Just leave it.' I suggest. 'Maybe they'll come back later'
'Can't do that.' says Chelsea, leaving the kitchen. 'They know I'm in - I told them yesterday. Look, I won't let them in. I'll just talk to them at the door and arrange to meet them later.'
She leaves. I quickly scan the kitchen for, well, I don't know what, to be honest. I'm just feeling really exposed. Then my worst fears are realised as I hear Tamsin's voice in the hallway. She's laughing loudly. There's some conversation going on, but I can't make out what it is. Then more laughter - all three of them this time. I try to pull Chelsea's shirt down, and I sit in tight against the table in an effort to hide, whilst looking as normal as possible. I'm reasonably confident no-one will notice what is going on.
Tamsin is the first to come into the kitchen.
'Zak! Nice top!'
'Hi, Tammie'
Annie follows.
'Hey, Zak' she says 'How's stuff?'
'I'm good' I tell her. 'You?'
Then Chelsea comes in. She's grinning widely, trying to stifle a laugh. I'm not at all happy.
'Wine, everyone?' she asks, opening the fridge. 'Zak, there are some more glasses in the cupboard over your head.'
I feel my heart stop. I can't get up, not like this.
There is a pause, then 'Oh, no, it's OK, I have some here...'
Damn her, teasing me like this when she knows how uncertain I am around her and her friends...
(continues)
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