She's Got His Number (Short Story, F-M)

David was not the type to ask for someone’s phone number outright. Whether it was because he was shy, or just felt there was no way he’d be willing to suffer through being rejected, especially on a night out with his buddies. At 21, his light-brown hair, summer-tanned skin, six-foot frame, and thin build, he had little difficulty attracting attention. He was happy to have the ladies approach him first; until tonight.​

Jenny was a bit older than David, bestowing her with a kind of confidence that could be off-putting to most guys David’s age. It wasn’t an arrogance, it was more like, she knew what she wanted and preferred to not settle for less. She likes the guy she dates to be confident too, but more than that, she loves to find the one or two things about him that he finds almost impossible to resist. Her favorite, so far, has long been tickling. Not the kind of out and out torture some would consider, but rather, the occasional and effortless touching of an extremely ticklish spot…where the guy needed to muster every ounce of composure to manage the situation. Best of all, were guys who weren’t completely aware of how unnerved being tickled could make them, and struggled to conceal the true physical and psychological effect it was having. She wasn’t sadistic, but she undeniably enjoyed the sense of control.​

Jenny was flattered by the attention David was giving her, and David—with a newly found sense of adventure—was enjoying the give-and-take of the evening. He expressed to his friends how beautiful he thought she was, and even they were surprised by his seeming dedication in trying to get her number. The evening was coming to a close, and if he was ever going to see her again, he’d have to ask. He’d never done it before—he had no ‘game’ so to speak—but he wasn’t concerned about that. He just didn’t want her to think he was simply looking for a one night stand. He finished his drink, and readied for his final approach.​

She was wondering if he would continue to pursue her. She was certainly interested, but was unwilling to ask first. She realized this could be a big mistake, but maybe if things went horribly wrong, she could still find his number through a mutual friend. Flanked by two of her girlfriends—something which made it all the more difficult—David made his move.​

“Well, Jenny, I’m about to take off…came here with my friends” as he pointed to the pack of buddies, huddled in the corner and watching the exchange very intently.​

“Yeah, me too. It’s been great talking with you.” An awkward pause grew as the last sounds of her voice hung delicately in the air.​

“Listen, umm, as much of a cliché this is, I’ve never asked for someone’s number before, but I was wondering if you’d like to get together again.”​

There, he said it. The words dropped awkwardly out of his dry mouth. Jenny’s friends smiled and giggled as he awkwardly tried to secure a date with Jenny. She let the moment linger for just a little, which only increased the tension.​

“Do you really want to go out, or is this just another notch in your bedpost?” she asked smiling. She knew David was sincere, but dangling her number in front of him was too delicious to pass up.​

“Oh…well…it’s not a notch, really. More like a large, sweeping gash” he said sarcastically. Though this wasn’t necessarily a mistake, he just made things much harder for himself. Some of the girls reacted with a kind of contempt, but Jenny had grown accustom to his sense of humor by now.​

“Have a pen?”​

David couldn’t believe it. He worked everything out…had spent an entire evening working up to this point, and…had nothing to write with, and he patted every pocket in vein. Talk about zero game.​

“Don’t worry” Jenny said reassuringly, “I’ve got one.” She pulled a pen from her purse and held it in the air in anticipation of David giving her a piece of paper…or something. He began patting all over again, and once again, came up empty.​

“Here, you can write it on my hand.”​

“David, do really want to go out…I mean…or are you just making this up as you go along?” She again said with a smile, but was certainly knocking him down a few pegs in the process. But for Jenny, this couldn’t be more perfect. She gently put her hand on his and had him lower it back to the side of his body.​

“Turn around” she said, and David thought this was just the icing on the humiliating cake; a parting shot for her to take.​

“Lift up your left foot.”​

“What?” he asked as he turned his head toward her, wondering if he misheard her.​

“Give me your left foot.” He started to lift his foot, still not understanding what was going on, but figured she’d write it on his sneaker. She held his foot and he steadied himself to balance, his head turned to the left trying to survey what was happening.​

“Well, I’m going to write it somewhere you won’t lose it” she said as she gently grabbed the heel of his shoe with her right hand and slid it off his size 11 foot. David was still unsure what was going to happen, but played along. He was now facing his buddies, who were all now in fits of laughter.​

“Hold still. You don’t want this to be illegible, do you?” she asked as she placed her index finger inside of his ankle-cut sock, and slid it off of his warm, soft foot. The air kissed his sole and it began to tingle as it has all of his life. When it was clear to David what was going to happen, lightning struck through his body.​

“Fiiiiiiive…..twooooooo…..threeeeeeeee…..” she said in a slow and deliberate fashion as she scrawled the numbers on his sole. He burst out laughing, unable to even get out the words “that tickles”, but he soon realized everybody already knew that. The girls were giggling, Jenny was having a blast, and poor David was trying to regroup as much as possible.​

“David, stop moving around so much…I mean, you are serious about this, aren’t you?” But he was laughing too loudly and teetering on his right leg in an effort to remain standing. Before he knew it, she was done. She continued to hold his foot and replaced his sock for him. Despite his embarrassment, the care she took when removing then replacing his sock was very exciting to him. She tickled him just for the sake of it; he was awash in a sea of never before felt elation and excitement.​

He turned around to face her, and put his shoe back on. He couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say, and stood there red-faced and beginning to sweat. Jenny winked at him and leaned over to whisper something in his ear.​

“Careful with that number David, you wouldn’t want it to smear.” The smile left his face as he realized he was now standing on the prize he’d been after, but his own pride—what little was left—prevented him from immediately ripping off his shoe and memorizing the number.​

“Walk me to my car?” Jenny asked coyly. “It’s five blocks up this way.” David was stuck and she knew it. He walked her to her car, trying to minimize the rubbing of his left sole by trying to displace the pressure to the outside edge of his foot. But he didn’t want her to know this; he didn’t want to appear as if he was even thinking about it.​

Jenny got into her car, started the engine, and rolled down the window.​

“Funny…” she said as he leaned down to listen, “…don’t worry if you don’t have my number. It looks like I've got yours.”​

David smiled as she pulled away, then dropped to the ground and tore off his shoe and sock as if his foot was on fire. There was no number on the sole of his bare foot, and he strained to interpret the jagged and smeared lettering. He read the message, closed his eyes, and began to laugh...​