Welcome to the first chapter of my first ever attempt at tickle fiction. This is a very long story, novel length, which I'll post chapter by chapter. It deals with F/F tickling, mainly on feet, and has some sexual elements. The first part has no tickling, but is a necessary evil to set the scene. Comments extremely welcome.
The Network
Chapter One
“You know, Heather, you’re actually getting very good at this” said the tall woman as she slammed the rear door of a blue transit van.
“Thank you, Ma’am”.
The second woman was younger, slimmer, and slightly shorter. They stood together and watched the van drive away, the engine the only noise breaking the silence as the van exited the dark forecourt. As it disappeared from view, the taller woman put a long arm tenderly around her companion’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
The unpromising grey building yielded a surprisingly luxurious interior. Soft white carpets lay even in the hallway, and a warm, inviting glow beckoned from the lounge beyond. The shorter girl, Heather, removed her sandals. Unbidden, she then knelt down and removed the shiny black heels worn by the taller woman. As Heather rose, she felt the tall woman grab her blouse, and pull her towards her. Her left hand grasped Heather’s auburn hair, and dragged her willingly into a deep kiss.
Heather allowed the invading tongue to seek its way around her mouth, licking lightly but tenderly, long instruction had taught her exactly how the taller woman liked her to respond. Heather expected to feel a hand on her small breast, but tonight the usual pattern was broken. Tonight, instead, the tall woman broke the embrace. She held her hand out to Heather, who obediently took it.
Heather was led into the lounge. Her thin bare feet sank gloriously into the deep Persian rugs. The woman who in turns was her employer, lover, Mistress, owner, and so much more, sank cosily into the white leather sofa.
“My usual drink, please, Heather” she said, running her fingers through her short black hair. Transportation days were always stressful. She disliked the two black-clad women who always came for the merchandise. Both, she suspected, were foreign, and she found them rather brusque. The merchandise was always inspected thoroughly, and however confident she was in her produce, she was always a little nervous that some fault would be found. The fees were so great, her status as supplier so privileged, that she consistently feared its loss.
This time had been particularly stressful, as it had been the first time she had allowed Heather to lead the process. From selection, procurement, preparation and sale, her protégé had taken over it all, albeit under careful supervision. She regarded the slim figure hunched over the drinks cabinet, fixing her a Cosmopolitan cocktail. She was so proud of her work with Heather.
“Here we are, Ma’am” said Heather, setting the drink down carefully on a coffee table.
Heather settled down at the end of the sofa. She lifted her Mistresses bare feet into her lap, and began to slowly massage them.
Hilary (for that was her name, although Heather never dared use it), let out a deep sigh as Heather’s slim fingers pressed soothingly into her soles.
“We received the full fee today”, said Hilary softly.
Heather didn’t let her enormous relief show, continuing to slowly and gently squeeze each of Hilary’s toes in turn. The responsibility she had been given in the last few weeks had been a huge honour for her. It showed how much her Mistress trusted her, and she felt delighted. She knew, though, that any failure would lead to punishment, and the sight of the bare, pink soles in her lap brought this thought to the forefront of her mind.
“Oh, that’s fabulous, love” said Hilary in response to the skilled massage of her toes. Heather had been a quick learner in all areas. She was a naturally talented masseuse, one of the many talents she had discovered since she had been under Hilary’s tutelage.
“£20,000” Hilary said, matter-of-factly. “A few more, and I shall finally be able to give up work, and I shall be able to spend all day enjoying you, Heather, dear.”
Heather smiled, but her toes curled involuntarily at the thought of all day, every day, with Hilary. It gave her plenty of opportunity to make mistakes, and thus plenty of opportunity to be punished.
“Next week you will begin the search for our next piece of merchandise” whispered Hilary, sipping her Cosmopolitan. “You can take charge again, I shall be particularly busy at the office over the next couple of weeks, but I don’t want our business to slip. I want a new girl in the cellar quickly, Heather….or I might have to put you back down there for a while….”
*****
Zoe Walters closed the lid of her laptop, leaned back, and sighed. Another report filed, another day done. The citizens of East Yorkshire would be all the better in the morning for her detailed analysis of the grand opening of the new nursing home she had attended that day. Tomorrow, she thought as she poured herself a generous vodka, would be no less exciting. The Lord Mayor was hosting a reception for a visiting business delegation from Taiwan, and she could hardly wait to hear the detailed discussions on automotive parts.
Kicking off her shoes, she sighed again, something she was doing a lot recently. It was hardly Woodward and Bernstein, the local round of fetes, civil engagements and petty crime. Being the junior reporter on a local morning newspaper was not entirely the journalistic career she had envisaged when she left university two years previously with excellent grades and an inquisitive mind. Unfortunately, the nature of the profession was that of a dull grind, until one either worked ones way steadily and slowly up the ladder, or one got a break with a big story. Sadly, the market towns of the East Riding were extremely unlikely to provide the latter, and if they did, Mark Townsend, the senior reporter, would undoubtedly claim the glory.
Sighing yet again, Zoe ran herself a bath. As the steaming water and soft bubbles rose, she pulled off her jeans and t-shirt. She could at least console herself that she was still in great shape, the steady junk food journalistic diet offset by her twice weekly volleyball games at the university. They let her stay on the team both because she was very popular, and very good.
She stepped into the bath, her feet twitching as they met the hot water. Settling herself in, she felt an unexpected pang of loneliness. Suddenly she thought how nice it would be to share the hot bath with someone else. Nearly nine months had passed since Hannah had decided she would rather travel the world than stay with Zoe, and no-one had come along since. She knew that she was too fussy, that her long legs, golden hair, full breasts and toned, athletic body meant that offers were often forthcoming. But she held out for someone special, and no-one since Hannah had come close. Taking a long slug of vodka, she plunged her head beneath the bubbles, thinking that, at 23 years old, she really needed to take a firmer grip on her life.
*****
The following day dawned warm and sunny; fabulously hot for early April. Heather awoke early, showered, and went downstairs in her black silk dressing gown to prepare breakfast.
As ever, she assembled a tray of muesli, fresh fruit salad and hot, steaming coffee, and took it upstairs. Placing it on the bedside table, she climbed back onto the large bed and leant over the sleeping Hilary.
Hilary liked to be woken up in a particular way, and Heather was of course very well trained. She gently kissed Hilary’s breasts, one after the other. Cupping the large breasts in her hands, she sucked slowly first on the left nipple, then the right.
“Mmmmmmmmm” mumbled Hilary, slowly regaining consciousness. At this sign of wakefulness, Heather kissed harder, and then moved upwards. As Hilary opened her eyes, she was met by Heather’s face directly over her. She loved this to be her first view of the day; the perfect cheekbones, the long nose, the piercing green eyes, the wavy auburn hair, the perfect 24-year-old skin. Heather smiled at her, then ank down and kissed her deeply.
“Mmmm, good girl” said Hilary. She reached inside Heather’s dressing gown, and lightly tickled the underside of her small breast. Heather jerked convulsively.
“Oooh, such a pity we both have a busy day ahead” sighed Hilary, removing her hand. It would be a lovely day to spend with my little tickle-toy, but work beckons.”
Heather got up, and offered the breakfast tray. Hilary was clearly in a tickling mood today, and Heather was deeply thankful that it was a busy day for them both.
Heather waited while Hilary ate, showered and dressed, assisting whenever required. She kissed her goodbye as she left, admiring the woman in the smart business suit, looking just the high-powered executive she was. At 38, Hilary owned several businesses, and Heather was immensely proud of her.
Heather then took her own shower, and dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans and white flip flops. After a leisurely breakfast, she left the house. Today, the search began for a new subject. She took her business cards and climbed into the small car Hilary had bought her for her last birthday. She drove off in the direction of the University. The last girl had been a Polish barmaid, so they hadn’t worked on a student for a while, and with the end of term coming, there would surely be plenty on the lookout for some easy money….
*****
“…..and so, with those shared ideals of mutual co-operation and closer business links, I hope that this relationship will blossom and develop for many years to come.”
The old git’s hankering after a free trip to Taiwan, thought Zoe malevolently, as the small assembled audience clapped unenthusiastically. She had barely written a thing, but it hardly mattered, it wasn’t as if many people would be reading her account of the speech.
At that moment her mobile rang, and she hurried out of the room to glares from those present. It was Mark Townsend, the senior reporter on her paper.
“Hi Zoe, its Mark” he said, unnecessarily. “Listen, are you in town? Only there’s been a robbery at the charity shop on the High Street, do you think you could pop over?”
Zoe was of the opinion that Mark was simply sat in the pub, allowing her to do his work for him, but she agreed. After all, it was better than being stuck with the Mayoral delegation for the rest of the day.
Ten minutes later she hopped out of her car and hurried towards the small crowd huddled around the Age Concern shop on the High Street. Within a few minutes Zoe had ascertained that a couple of teenagers had come in, distracted the shop assistant, a little old lady who Zoe put in her eighties, and pinched the rather meagre contents of the till.
Zoe, with nothing better to do, decided to hang around and have a chat with the investigating police officers, who were currently still inside the shop. To fill in time, she nipped into the newsagents next door and bought herself a cold Coke, which she was sipping when the CID couple emerged. First came DS Bill Martin, a stout, chubby man in his early forties, who gave Zoe a broad grin when he saw her. Behind him was a woman Zoe had never seen before. She was young, Zoe’s age at most. She was short, with pale, almost alabaster skin. Her light brown hair fell untidily in soft waves down to her neck. Zoe took in the deep, round brown eyes, the full red lips, and the toned figure beneath the sensible white blouse. Zoe felt an unexpected flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“Hi Zoe” said Bill, bringing her back to her senses. “Shame for the old dear, only a few quid taken, but she’s a bit upset.”
“Oh, right” said Zoe, distractedly.
“Oh, I almost forgot” said Bill, smiling broadly, “please welcome the newest member of our little team, DS Nicola Richmond.”
“Nikki” said the woman, smiling and holding out her hand.
“Hi” said Zoe, taking it. Nikki had a surprisingly firm grip. Zoe met her eyes, and the two lingered for just a second longer than a normal handshake.
“Zoe’s our local intrepid reporter” smiled Bill indulgently.
“Hm”, said Nikki, giving Zoe an appraising look. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you meet me for a drink later? You can do a little article on my first day in the CID. Have you got a phone?”
“Er, yeah” blustered Zoe, holding out her mobile.
Nikki took it and entered some digits.
“Cool. That’s my number. Give me a ring, or just meet me in the White Lion at seven. Bye!”
They swept off, leaving Zoe rather flustered. What had just happened? She felt sure she had just been picked up, that the little brunette knew exactly what she had been thinking. Feeling very warm inside, Zoe returned to her car.
*****
Danielle left the lecture with considerable relief. She had come to university to party, not to sit through tedious drones about Medieval England. She had only gone along to show her face; she had an idea that attending one lecture in every three would be sufficient to avoid trouble.
She flipped on her sunglasses and began to stroll through the grassy parkland of the campus back to her student house. It was three in the afternoon, just time for a nap and a change of clothes before going out in the evening. Danielle had her eye on a muscular rugby player named Steve, and she had just the dress in mind that should do the trick…
“Hiya babe!” said Fi as Danielle came through the door.
Fi and Danielle had been best friends since their first weekend at University. Both had recognised in the other a love of clothes, parties and guys. In this, their second year, they had found a two bedroom flat to share, which as usual was littered with makeup, wine bottles and magazines, with no sign of any university notes or textbooks whatsoever.
“What are you up to tonight babe?” asked Fi.
“Oh, Union Bar, then clubbing I reckon” said Danielle happily. “But first I’m going for a couple of hours sleep, this heat’s making me tired.”
“Oh, just hang on for a bit” said Fi. “We got this card through the door earlier on. Some girl who’s doing a fashion and beauty course, offering free pedicures so she can practice. I rang her up and she’s going to pop round this afternoon. Any minute now in fact.”
“Ooooh, brilliant” cooed Danielle happily. “I could just do with getting mine done.”
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang.
The girls went to the door together, and were met by a pretty young woman who was regarding them with interest. She saw the tall, elegant girl with the long, straight ginger hair, full breasts, and cheeky grin, who introduced herself as Fi. Then the short, slightly plump blonde with huge, floppy breasts who said she was Danielle.
“Hi girls” she said with a broad grin. “I’m Heather, and I’ve got a real treat in store for your feet.”
*****
They had been in the pub for nearly three hours.
Rather predictably, the subject of a newspaper article had not even been mentioned.
Only now, with the second bottle of wine on the table, was Zoe really starting to relax. She considered herself a confident person, and she certainly wasn’t shy about her sexuality, but this girl was something else.
She had already complimented Zoe on her figure, her hair, her legs, and even her breasts, all the while unashamedly drinking in the view. She was bossy, forthright, confident, and Zoe was putty in her hands.
As they started on the second bottle, Zoe noticed that Nikki was staring down at her feet.
“What size shoe are you, sweetie?” asked Nikki.
“Erm, size eight” responded Zoe.
“Mmmmmmm, very big feet” smiled Nikki, looking up at Zoe. “I bet they’re ticklish, aren’t they?”
“Er, what?” asked Zoe.
“You heard” said Nikki, looking suddenly very stern. Zoe melted.
“N-n-no. Er, that is, I d-don’t know” stammered Zoe.
“Oh dear, I can tell when you’re fibbing, you know” said Nikki, leaning forward, so close that Zoe could smell the Rioja on her breath. “Oh yes, I think big, tall, sexy blondie is very ticklish. I think she’s most ticklish on her bare feet.”
Zoe had broken out in a sweat. She didn’t say anything, just continued to stare into Nikki’s deep brown eyes.
“Do you want me to tickle you, Zoe?” she asked, so close now their lips were almost touching.
“Yes” whispered Zoe. “Yes, I do.”
What the hell was she saying? Her brain was addled. She could think of nothing worse. She was incredibly, stupidly ticklish. Why the hell had she just said that?
Nikki leaned back, and began to talk about something else. In fact, for the rest of the night, she never again mentioned tickling, although she spent a great deal of time looking down at Zoe’s feet.
At the end of the evening, they said goodbye at the taxi rank. Zoe was a little awkward and uncomfortable, but not Nikki. She stood on tiptoe, put her hand on the back of Zoe’s head, and pulled her down into a kiss.
“I’m going to cook you dinner on Saturday evening” said Nikki, pulling away. “After which, we’re going to find out exactly how ticklish you are.”
She slapped Zoe firmly on the bottom, and pushed her into the first cab.
Zoe spent the ride home in a dreamy state of semi-consciousness, staring absently down at her toes….
The Network
Chapter One
“You know, Heather, you’re actually getting very good at this” said the tall woman as she slammed the rear door of a blue transit van.
“Thank you, Ma’am”.
The second woman was younger, slimmer, and slightly shorter. They stood together and watched the van drive away, the engine the only noise breaking the silence as the van exited the dark forecourt. As it disappeared from view, the taller woman put a long arm tenderly around her companion’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
The unpromising grey building yielded a surprisingly luxurious interior. Soft white carpets lay even in the hallway, and a warm, inviting glow beckoned from the lounge beyond. The shorter girl, Heather, removed her sandals. Unbidden, she then knelt down and removed the shiny black heels worn by the taller woman. As Heather rose, she felt the tall woman grab her blouse, and pull her towards her. Her left hand grasped Heather’s auburn hair, and dragged her willingly into a deep kiss.
Heather allowed the invading tongue to seek its way around her mouth, licking lightly but tenderly, long instruction had taught her exactly how the taller woman liked her to respond. Heather expected to feel a hand on her small breast, but tonight the usual pattern was broken. Tonight, instead, the tall woman broke the embrace. She held her hand out to Heather, who obediently took it.
Heather was led into the lounge. Her thin bare feet sank gloriously into the deep Persian rugs. The woman who in turns was her employer, lover, Mistress, owner, and so much more, sank cosily into the white leather sofa.
“My usual drink, please, Heather” she said, running her fingers through her short black hair. Transportation days were always stressful. She disliked the two black-clad women who always came for the merchandise. Both, she suspected, were foreign, and she found them rather brusque. The merchandise was always inspected thoroughly, and however confident she was in her produce, she was always a little nervous that some fault would be found. The fees were so great, her status as supplier so privileged, that she consistently feared its loss.
This time had been particularly stressful, as it had been the first time she had allowed Heather to lead the process. From selection, procurement, preparation and sale, her protégé had taken over it all, albeit under careful supervision. She regarded the slim figure hunched over the drinks cabinet, fixing her a Cosmopolitan cocktail. She was so proud of her work with Heather.
“Here we are, Ma’am” said Heather, setting the drink down carefully on a coffee table.
Heather settled down at the end of the sofa. She lifted her Mistresses bare feet into her lap, and began to slowly massage them.
Hilary (for that was her name, although Heather never dared use it), let out a deep sigh as Heather’s slim fingers pressed soothingly into her soles.
“We received the full fee today”, said Hilary softly.
Heather didn’t let her enormous relief show, continuing to slowly and gently squeeze each of Hilary’s toes in turn. The responsibility she had been given in the last few weeks had been a huge honour for her. It showed how much her Mistress trusted her, and she felt delighted. She knew, though, that any failure would lead to punishment, and the sight of the bare, pink soles in her lap brought this thought to the forefront of her mind.
“Oh, that’s fabulous, love” said Hilary in response to the skilled massage of her toes. Heather had been a quick learner in all areas. She was a naturally talented masseuse, one of the many talents she had discovered since she had been under Hilary’s tutelage.
“£20,000” Hilary said, matter-of-factly. “A few more, and I shall finally be able to give up work, and I shall be able to spend all day enjoying you, Heather, dear.”
Heather smiled, but her toes curled involuntarily at the thought of all day, every day, with Hilary. It gave her plenty of opportunity to make mistakes, and thus plenty of opportunity to be punished.
“Next week you will begin the search for our next piece of merchandise” whispered Hilary, sipping her Cosmopolitan. “You can take charge again, I shall be particularly busy at the office over the next couple of weeks, but I don’t want our business to slip. I want a new girl in the cellar quickly, Heather….or I might have to put you back down there for a while….”
*****
Zoe Walters closed the lid of her laptop, leaned back, and sighed. Another report filed, another day done. The citizens of East Yorkshire would be all the better in the morning for her detailed analysis of the grand opening of the new nursing home she had attended that day. Tomorrow, she thought as she poured herself a generous vodka, would be no less exciting. The Lord Mayor was hosting a reception for a visiting business delegation from Taiwan, and she could hardly wait to hear the detailed discussions on automotive parts.
Kicking off her shoes, she sighed again, something she was doing a lot recently. It was hardly Woodward and Bernstein, the local round of fetes, civil engagements and petty crime. Being the junior reporter on a local morning newspaper was not entirely the journalistic career she had envisaged when she left university two years previously with excellent grades and an inquisitive mind. Unfortunately, the nature of the profession was that of a dull grind, until one either worked ones way steadily and slowly up the ladder, or one got a break with a big story. Sadly, the market towns of the East Riding were extremely unlikely to provide the latter, and if they did, Mark Townsend, the senior reporter, would undoubtedly claim the glory.
Sighing yet again, Zoe ran herself a bath. As the steaming water and soft bubbles rose, she pulled off her jeans and t-shirt. She could at least console herself that she was still in great shape, the steady junk food journalistic diet offset by her twice weekly volleyball games at the university. They let her stay on the team both because she was very popular, and very good.
She stepped into the bath, her feet twitching as they met the hot water. Settling herself in, she felt an unexpected pang of loneliness. Suddenly she thought how nice it would be to share the hot bath with someone else. Nearly nine months had passed since Hannah had decided she would rather travel the world than stay with Zoe, and no-one had come along since. She knew that she was too fussy, that her long legs, golden hair, full breasts and toned, athletic body meant that offers were often forthcoming. But she held out for someone special, and no-one since Hannah had come close. Taking a long slug of vodka, she plunged her head beneath the bubbles, thinking that, at 23 years old, she really needed to take a firmer grip on her life.
*****
The following day dawned warm and sunny; fabulously hot for early April. Heather awoke early, showered, and went downstairs in her black silk dressing gown to prepare breakfast.
As ever, she assembled a tray of muesli, fresh fruit salad and hot, steaming coffee, and took it upstairs. Placing it on the bedside table, she climbed back onto the large bed and leant over the sleeping Hilary.
Hilary liked to be woken up in a particular way, and Heather was of course very well trained. She gently kissed Hilary’s breasts, one after the other. Cupping the large breasts in her hands, she sucked slowly first on the left nipple, then the right.
“Mmmmmmmmm” mumbled Hilary, slowly regaining consciousness. At this sign of wakefulness, Heather kissed harder, and then moved upwards. As Hilary opened her eyes, she was met by Heather’s face directly over her. She loved this to be her first view of the day; the perfect cheekbones, the long nose, the piercing green eyes, the wavy auburn hair, the perfect 24-year-old skin. Heather smiled at her, then ank down and kissed her deeply.
“Mmmm, good girl” said Hilary. She reached inside Heather’s dressing gown, and lightly tickled the underside of her small breast. Heather jerked convulsively.
“Oooh, such a pity we both have a busy day ahead” sighed Hilary, removing her hand. It would be a lovely day to spend with my little tickle-toy, but work beckons.”
Heather got up, and offered the breakfast tray. Hilary was clearly in a tickling mood today, and Heather was deeply thankful that it was a busy day for them both.
Heather waited while Hilary ate, showered and dressed, assisting whenever required. She kissed her goodbye as she left, admiring the woman in the smart business suit, looking just the high-powered executive she was. At 38, Hilary owned several businesses, and Heather was immensely proud of her.
Heather then took her own shower, and dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans and white flip flops. After a leisurely breakfast, she left the house. Today, the search began for a new subject. She took her business cards and climbed into the small car Hilary had bought her for her last birthday. She drove off in the direction of the University. The last girl had been a Polish barmaid, so they hadn’t worked on a student for a while, and with the end of term coming, there would surely be plenty on the lookout for some easy money….
*****
“…..and so, with those shared ideals of mutual co-operation and closer business links, I hope that this relationship will blossom and develop for many years to come.”
The old git’s hankering after a free trip to Taiwan, thought Zoe malevolently, as the small assembled audience clapped unenthusiastically. She had barely written a thing, but it hardly mattered, it wasn’t as if many people would be reading her account of the speech.
At that moment her mobile rang, and she hurried out of the room to glares from those present. It was Mark Townsend, the senior reporter on her paper.
“Hi Zoe, its Mark” he said, unnecessarily. “Listen, are you in town? Only there’s been a robbery at the charity shop on the High Street, do you think you could pop over?”
Zoe was of the opinion that Mark was simply sat in the pub, allowing her to do his work for him, but she agreed. After all, it was better than being stuck with the Mayoral delegation for the rest of the day.
Ten minutes later she hopped out of her car and hurried towards the small crowd huddled around the Age Concern shop on the High Street. Within a few minutes Zoe had ascertained that a couple of teenagers had come in, distracted the shop assistant, a little old lady who Zoe put in her eighties, and pinched the rather meagre contents of the till.
Zoe, with nothing better to do, decided to hang around and have a chat with the investigating police officers, who were currently still inside the shop. To fill in time, she nipped into the newsagents next door and bought herself a cold Coke, which she was sipping when the CID couple emerged. First came DS Bill Martin, a stout, chubby man in his early forties, who gave Zoe a broad grin when he saw her. Behind him was a woman Zoe had never seen before. She was young, Zoe’s age at most. She was short, with pale, almost alabaster skin. Her light brown hair fell untidily in soft waves down to her neck. Zoe took in the deep, round brown eyes, the full red lips, and the toned figure beneath the sensible white blouse. Zoe felt an unexpected flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“Hi Zoe” said Bill, bringing her back to her senses. “Shame for the old dear, only a few quid taken, but she’s a bit upset.”
“Oh, right” said Zoe, distractedly.
“Oh, I almost forgot” said Bill, smiling broadly, “please welcome the newest member of our little team, DS Nicola Richmond.”
“Nikki” said the woman, smiling and holding out her hand.
“Hi” said Zoe, taking it. Nikki had a surprisingly firm grip. Zoe met her eyes, and the two lingered for just a second longer than a normal handshake.
“Zoe’s our local intrepid reporter” smiled Bill indulgently.
“Hm”, said Nikki, giving Zoe an appraising look. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you meet me for a drink later? You can do a little article on my first day in the CID. Have you got a phone?”
“Er, yeah” blustered Zoe, holding out her mobile.
Nikki took it and entered some digits.
“Cool. That’s my number. Give me a ring, or just meet me in the White Lion at seven. Bye!”
They swept off, leaving Zoe rather flustered. What had just happened? She felt sure she had just been picked up, that the little brunette knew exactly what she had been thinking. Feeling very warm inside, Zoe returned to her car.
*****
Danielle left the lecture with considerable relief. She had come to university to party, not to sit through tedious drones about Medieval England. She had only gone along to show her face; she had an idea that attending one lecture in every three would be sufficient to avoid trouble.
She flipped on her sunglasses and began to stroll through the grassy parkland of the campus back to her student house. It was three in the afternoon, just time for a nap and a change of clothes before going out in the evening. Danielle had her eye on a muscular rugby player named Steve, and she had just the dress in mind that should do the trick…
“Hiya babe!” said Fi as Danielle came through the door.
Fi and Danielle had been best friends since their first weekend at University. Both had recognised in the other a love of clothes, parties and guys. In this, their second year, they had found a two bedroom flat to share, which as usual was littered with makeup, wine bottles and magazines, with no sign of any university notes or textbooks whatsoever.
“What are you up to tonight babe?” asked Fi.
“Oh, Union Bar, then clubbing I reckon” said Danielle happily. “But first I’m going for a couple of hours sleep, this heat’s making me tired.”
“Oh, just hang on for a bit” said Fi. “We got this card through the door earlier on. Some girl who’s doing a fashion and beauty course, offering free pedicures so she can practice. I rang her up and she’s going to pop round this afternoon. Any minute now in fact.”
“Ooooh, brilliant” cooed Danielle happily. “I could just do with getting mine done.”
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang.
The girls went to the door together, and were met by a pretty young woman who was regarding them with interest. She saw the tall, elegant girl with the long, straight ginger hair, full breasts, and cheeky grin, who introduced herself as Fi. Then the short, slightly plump blonde with huge, floppy breasts who said she was Danielle.
“Hi girls” she said with a broad grin. “I’m Heather, and I’ve got a real treat in store for your feet.”
*****
They had been in the pub for nearly three hours.
Rather predictably, the subject of a newspaper article had not even been mentioned.
Only now, with the second bottle of wine on the table, was Zoe really starting to relax. She considered herself a confident person, and she certainly wasn’t shy about her sexuality, but this girl was something else.
She had already complimented Zoe on her figure, her hair, her legs, and even her breasts, all the while unashamedly drinking in the view. She was bossy, forthright, confident, and Zoe was putty in her hands.
As they started on the second bottle, Zoe noticed that Nikki was staring down at her feet.
“What size shoe are you, sweetie?” asked Nikki.
“Erm, size eight” responded Zoe.
“Mmmmmmm, very big feet” smiled Nikki, looking up at Zoe. “I bet they’re ticklish, aren’t they?”
“Er, what?” asked Zoe.
“You heard” said Nikki, looking suddenly very stern. Zoe melted.
“N-n-no. Er, that is, I d-don’t know” stammered Zoe.
“Oh dear, I can tell when you’re fibbing, you know” said Nikki, leaning forward, so close that Zoe could smell the Rioja on her breath. “Oh yes, I think big, tall, sexy blondie is very ticklish. I think she’s most ticklish on her bare feet.”
Zoe had broken out in a sweat. She didn’t say anything, just continued to stare into Nikki’s deep brown eyes.
“Do you want me to tickle you, Zoe?” she asked, so close now their lips were almost touching.
“Yes” whispered Zoe. “Yes, I do.”
What the hell was she saying? Her brain was addled. She could think of nothing worse. She was incredibly, stupidly ticklish. Why the hell had she just said that?
Nikki leaned back, and began to talk about something else. In fact, for the rest of the night, she never again mentioned tickling, although she spent a great deal of time looking down at Zoe’s feet.
At the end of the evening, they said goodbye at the taxi rank. Zoe was a little awkward and uncomfortable, but not Nikki. She stood on tiptoe, put her hand on the back of Zoe’s head, and pulled her down into a kiss.
“I’m going to cook you dinner on Saturday evening” said Nikki, pulling away. “After which, we’re going to find out exactly how ticklish you are.”
She slapped Zoe firmly on the bottom, and pushed her into the first cab.
Zoe spent the ride home in a dreamy state of semi-consciousness, staring absently down at her toes….
