CitY of MicA
1st Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2001
- Messages
- 2,226
- Points
- 0
The following story is the second in a series transcribed from audio tapes. Unfortunately, the account doesn't read as well as it should due to the fact that the other party was soft-spoken and the recorder was behind them. The first story can be found here.
During college, I had to take four semesters worth of a class that I disliked in order to fulfill requirements. Fortunately, I had a teacher whom I liked for the second semester. I arranged to study with her privately in the ensuing semester and have it count toward my requirements.
My teacher was a slim, petite, Israeli woman in her late 30s (my best guess). Early on during my first semester with her, I was trying to conceive of a way to tickle her. Studying with her privately turned out to be the ideal solution. Once a week, I would go to her apartment. However, three-fourths of the semester had passed before I attempted to pursue it. At the end of one of the lessons, I asked her about the pair of shoes she was wearing; she always shoes that were different and intriguing. She explained that that pair was from Israel.
The following conversation occurred at the end of the subsequent lesson, while she was in the process of dismissing me. I knew I had limited time before her next student arrived. We were both seated facing one another. She was wearing shoes with a relatively high, thick heal and a thin buckle strap that went across the top of her foot. I was quite nervous due to my longtime anticipation of the event.
Participant: I'll see you next week.
Mica: Okay.
Participant: And then, um... we'll go through it again slowly.
Mica: Okay, are- are those... I- I meant to ask you before. Are those um... shoes from Israel?
Participant: Yes.
Mica: Can- can I see them? I'm...
Participant: Sure, they're dancing shoes.
Mica: Really.
Participant: Yes.
She undid the buckle on her left shoe and handed the shoe to me. She was wearing dark stockings, and she kept the leg without a shoe crossed and toe pointed for the remainder of the conversation.
Mica: Do you dance?
Participant: No, I don't- used to but I don't anymore. Uhh... (unintelligble)
At this point, I felt like I had so many options that it was almost overwhelming. The most difficult part of this exercise was having her take off her shoe, and that was now behind me. The conversation opened up a whole can of worms.
Mica: You used to? How long did you dance for?
Participant: I danced around 3 years. Uhh... (unintelligble)
Mica: So not Ballet but Classical?
Participant: Classical.
Mica: Right. Like what did you dance to?
Participant: Um... Chopin.
Mica: And how... is that very involved? I mean- it must be uh...
Participant: Dancing?
Mica: I mean, like, was it really tough on you? Or- or why did you quit?
Participant: Um... because I had an injury.
Mica: Right.
Participant: It's like a uh... it's like a (unintelligble).
Mica: Yeah that's...
Participant: And uhh... you burnout at around 30.
Mica: Yeah, that's- that's the thing.
Participant: You know, why bother?
Mica: Yeah, it's a lot different from the other arts.
Participant: No, you can fall until you (unintelligble).
Mica: Yeah.
Participant: At home you can do anything, and uh...
Mica: (refering to the shoes) So did you used to own these back then, or...
Participant: No, no.
Mica: You just bought them.
Participant: I don't because I'm (unintelligble).
Mica: Right... right. Do you have uh... blisters from dancing?
Participant: Uh no- no no no.
I reached down and grasped her foot by the ankle. I held it above my lap and began to inspect it. I made a fist and gently pushed it against the ball of her foot.
Mica: So it's just...
Participant: No... it was a long time ago.
--- pause ---
tickling begins
Participant:Uh-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!
(shoe heal taps the floor) (her head lurches toward me)
Participant: (breathes in) Uh-hih.
tickling ends
Participant: Long, long time ago.
Mica: Right.
During college, I had to take four semesters worth of a class that I disliked in order to fulfill requirements. Fortunately, I had a teacher whom I liked for the second semester. I arranged to study with her privately in the ensuing semester and have it count toward my requirements.
My teacher was a slim, petite, Israeli woman in her late 30s (my best guess). Early on during my first semester with her, I was trying to conceive of a way to tickle her. Studying with her privately turned out to be the ideal solution. Once a week, I would go to her apartment. However, three-fourths of the semester had passed before I attempted to pursue it. At the end of one of the lessons, I asked her about the pair of shoes she was wearing; she always shoes that were different and intriguing. She explained that that pair was from Israel.
The following conversation occurred at the end of the subsequent lesson, while she was in the process of dismissing me. I knew I had limited time before her next student arrived. We were both seated facing one another. She was wearing shoes with a relatively high, thick heal and a thin buckle strap that went across the top of her foot. I was quite nervous due to my longtime anticipation of the event.
Participant: I'll see you next week.
Mica: Okay.
Participant: And then, um... we'll go through it again slowly.
Mica: Okay, are- are those... I- I meant to ask you before. Are those um... shoes from Israel?
Participant: Yes.
Mica: Can- can I see them? I'm...
Participant: Sure, they're dancing shoes.
Mica: Really.
Participant: Yes.
She undid the buckle on her left shoe and handed the shoe to me. She was wearing dark stockings, and she kept the leg without a shoe crossed and toe pointed for the remainder of the conversation.
Mica: Do you dance?
Participant: No, I don't- used to but I don't anymore. Uhh... (unintelligble)
At this point, I felt like I had so many options that it was almost overwhelming. The most difficult part of this exercise was having her take off her shoe, and that was now behind me. The conversation opened up a whole can of worms.
Mica: You used to? How long did you dance for?
Participant: I danced around 3 years. Uhh... (unintelligble)
Mica: So not Ballet but Classical?
Participant: Classical.
Mica: Right. Like what did you dance to?
Participant: Um... Chopin.
Mica: And how... is that very involved? I mean- it must be uh...
Participant: Dancing?
Mica: I mean, like, was it really tough on you? Or- or why did you quit?
Participant: Um... because I had an injury.
Mica: Right.
Participant: It's like a uh... it's like a (unintelligble).
Mica: Yeah that's...
Participant: And uhh... you burnout at around 30.
Mica: Yeah, that's- that's the thing.
Participant: You know, why bother?
Mica: Yeah, it's a lot different from the other arts.
Participant: No, you can fall until you (unintelligble).
Mica: Yeah.
Participant: At home you can do anything, and uh...
Mica: (refering to the shoes) So did you used to own these back then, or...
Participant: No, no.
Mica: You just bought them.
Participant: I don't because I'm (unintelligble).
Mica: Right... right. Do you have uh... blisters from dancing?
Participant: Uh no- no no no.
I reached down and grasped her foot by the ankle. I held it above my lap and began to inspect it. I made a fist and gently pushed it against the ball of her foot.
Mica: So it's just...
Participant: No... it was a long time ago.
--- pause ---
tickling begins
Participant:Uh-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!
(shoe heal taps the floor) (her head lurches toward me)
Participant: (breathes in) Uh-hih.
tickling ends
Participant: Long, long time ago.
Mica: Right.