(Posted on Tuesday, January 8, 2002)
This story was submitted anonymously.
It was late in the morning when Lee called. Lee was a friend of my daughter, almost 19. I had known her for over a year. Pretty girl but without a ticklish spot on her. Too bad really. Since she had the prettiest little feet I ever saw. Anyway, her Mom had wanted to know if I could look at her car. I said of course and my daughter and I drove over to the house.
A few questions and a check under the hood showed she
had almost no oil in the car. I wrote down what she needed for an
oil change and sent the two of them off
to Wal-Mart. It took no time at all to remove the filter and drain what little oil was in the car, so I went inside to talk to Lee’s Mom, Mrs. S.
She was making some Melon Balls for a Party later that day. Sitting at the kitchen counter on a bar stool, legs folded under her and her feet hanging out the back of the stool.
Mrs. S and I had talked many times and I had been over
there numerous times. I had never seen her without shoes and socks
on. Today it was the same, but she
was wearing a pair of backless shoes, I think they are called Mules.
She was not a bad looking woman for mid forties, though a bit wide at the hips. As I washed my hands at the sink she offered me a beer from the fridge.
About half way through the beer she attempted to change her position a bit and her right shoe fell off her foot and hit the floor with a sharp smack. I noticed two things right away, one she had a very high arch and two there was a hole in her sock right next to her large toe.
As she started to move to get off the stool, I set down the beer and said; “Allow me to be of assistance Ma’am.” And quickly moved in behind her.
“Why thank you kind Sir.” She replied. We often talk in the old style using the old fashion courtesies just for fun.
I knelt down behind her to retrieve her shoe and said; “Looks like we’re slumming it today.” The reference being, of course, to the hole in her sock.
She was puzzled and asked; “What?”.
Moving quickly I inserted my index finger in the hole and wiggled it, scratching the top of the ball of her foot.
A shrill, sharp “EEEK!!” escaped her throat. I immediately withdrew my finger.
Unlike her daughter she was obviously ticklish. She was going to downplay the fact that I had just tickled her by not mentioning it and just said; “Oh that. I should have just tossed this pair out when I saw that this morning. I was in a hurry though and figured I’d throw them out when I took them off tonight.”
Without a word I grabbed the heel of the sock and pulled it off in one easy motion and dropped it in the can next to her that was filled with all sort of melon stuff.
“There, that takes care of that.” I said.
“Oh great move smart guy”, she let loose her other shoe and it hit the floor, “Might as well toss the other one too.” Which, of course I did. “There’s a pair of my socks on the dryer right behind you. Please get them.”
Laughing a bit I said; “Not a problem Me Lady”. But I couldn’t take my eyes of her two bare feet. So very well taken care of.
I just had to give in to the temptation and reached up with two fingers and started the lightly scratch the sole of her foot right in the middle of that beautifully high sweeping arch; “Kootchie, kootchie, koo”, I teased.
Her foot wiggled around, the mini-scoop she was using dropped from her hand to the counter and tried to cover her foot with the other foot. It was only a couple of seconds of tickling and I stopped.
I stood up to get her other pair of socks and said; “Hee, Hee, Gottcha!”.
She composed herself and I moved quickly to get the socks, before she could make a move to get up.
“OK, Mr. Smartass” as she started to try and get up from
the stool, “Just give me the socks.” But I was already behind her
and gently placed my hands on her
shoulders to sit her back down.
“Chill Mrs. S, I’ll take care of everything”, I said. “Trust me.”
At first she said nothing as I knelt behind her again
and un-rolled the socks. She turned to look to she if I was planning
to actually put them on her feet or
again tickle her. “Trust you? You’ve already tickled me twice.”
“You cut me deeply dear lady, I merely teased you.” I said. “Besides, nary a giggle escaped your lips. One could scarcely consider that a tickle.”.
“You can’t joke your way out of this.” While there
was an edge to her voice she didn’t sound real angry. I was however, concerned.
She did know my girlfriend
and in hindsight I should have been more reserved. My mind was racing to explain it off as a joke or a product of having a beer too early in the day, when she continued; “I’d bet it’s been 30 years since anyone tried to
tickle me like that.”
“You’re upset. I’m sorry”, I said. “I really did just mean it as a joke. I was just having some fun at your expense.” I still hadn’t given her the socks, but stood up and looked at her with my best sad face.
She placed her hand on my shoulder and her face lightened up a bit and said; “Hey, it’s OK. Really it is. You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
“OK, ‘cause I really wasn’t aiming to make you mad at me.” I said. I knelt back down behind her, gathering up one of her socks.
As I placed the sock on the foot I tickled she said; “I’m not mad at you. It was just sort of a shock. It really wasn’t that bad. I’m surprised to find that I’m still ticklish.” The sock was back on her foot and the shoe, but I had to try one more time. I just couldn’t help myself.
I grabbed her left foot in my hand and traced my finger down the center of it and said; “What would you think if I REALLY tried to tickle you?”
“YOU…… uh, nothing.” She relaxed, but curled her toes tightly. “It wouldn’t be a surprise, so you’d be wasting your time.”
“Oh” I said, “Then there’s no need to try I guess.” And I somewhat relaxed my grip of her foot.
Her toes uncurled a bit as she started to say; “Nope,
because I’d beeeeee ... eeeeeeeeeee….eeeeeeek!” as I started to use
my four fingers to dance lightly all
over the sole of her foot.
“HA HA HA STHOOOOOOP… Ple..hee…hee..se” she squealed with
laughter. I held her tightly and continued to tickle her and her
toes bent back, stretching tight
the skin on the sole of her foot. I shifted my fingers to the base of her toes and she squealed even louder.
She began to pound the counter with her fist, laughing hysterically, but never begged for me to stop, save at the very start.
“I guess it isn’t doing any good is it?” I chuckled. “Tickle, tickle” as the dance of fingers tried to cover every square inch of her foot.
About 30 seconds into the tickling she began to beg; “HA HA HA OK, it does, hee hee. It TICK..he he he..les ha ha ha!” “Ple..hee..hee..se! HA HA, I cahan ha han’t stand anymore!”
About then I heard the dog bark outside and heard my car
pulling into the driveway. I doubted she heard this over her own
laughter. I sure didn’t want the
kids to catch me sitting there tickling Mrs. S so I said; “Anyone want to say “UNCLE””?
“NEVER!!!” she squealed.
I let go of her foot and began to tickle her socked foot and her bare foot at the same time.
She almost fell off the stool screaming; “ALL RIGHT, ha ha ha, UNCLE….UNCLE!!!!!”
I stopped and quickly moved to replace her other sock and both her shoes before the girls got in the house. She just leaned against the counter trying to catch her breath and I went back to my half beer.
I changed the oil and filter in the car. Again came into the house and washed my hands, the girls right behind me.
Lee hugged me for helping her and Mrs. S got up from her chair and also hugged me. With my arms around her I poked her a bit in the ribs and she whispered “Nope, not there at all.”
I have to wonder what will happen next time I am asked to “come over”.
This story was submitted anonymously.
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