Methodtickle
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After years of lurking, here's my first story. It's the first in a series that I hope everyone enjoys and looks forward to. Bury me in feedback please!
The Grant
Chapter One:Ms.Chantilly
The flyer was printed in both English and Spanish and only handed to carefully selected women over a week. They were mostly recruited from unemployment and welfare offices, and interviewed in a sparse office overlooking Lexington Avenue. Ms. Chantilly was adamant about ethnicity and she was pleased to see her staff did not disappoint as she entered the Westchester mansion’s grand room to meet them.
She slowly paced before them reviewing each file as she passed, stiletto heels clacking on the marble floor with a sharp echo.
She stopped in front of the largest of them, 24 year old Brooklynite Qualiyah Robinson and looked down at her big brown feet as they squirmed on the cold floor.
“Enjoy your pedicure, my deah,” she cooed in her silver Georgia drawl.
At 6’2 Qualiyah stood at least a full head taller than the short, lean white woman. The big girl looked down through her small round eyeglasses, soft brown eyes emotionless.
“Yes I did.”
Ms. Chantilly let out a soft cackle and shook her head as she ran a long red fingernail down the file in her hand.
“It says here you converted to Islam after the birth of your third chile? Is that right?”
“That’s correct,” Qualiyah responded softly.
“Let’s have a look shall we?” she motioned towards her feet.
Two muscular black women emerged from the wall each with a chair and an ottoman. One sat Qualiyah back in the chair while the other pulled her feet up for Ms. Chantilly to inspect.
“My, my. What massive feet you have!”
Ms.Chantilly licked her lips as she feasted her eyes on the size thirteen soles. Despite the girl’s dark complexion they were as creamy white as her own and looked nearly as smooth. With her right index fingernail she poked under Qualiyah’s thick left middle toe and scratched at the base.
The young woman shuddered in the seat and let out a slight groan.
Carefully studying her smooth round face, Ms. Chantilly gently scratched the instep with her thumbnail. Qualiyah bit her lip but her foot didn’t move. She even flexed it a bit further into Ms.Chantilly’s soft delicate hands.
Ms.Chantilly responded by tapping at the meaty pink heel with her left set of nails. The big girls brow furrowed under her headwrap. The corners of her mouth poked upward and that’s when Ms.Chantilly switched over to her right foot and dug her thumbnails into the ball of her foot, fingernails under the toes and scrabbled. Full lips parted finally, Ms. Chantilly felt herself moisten as she saw Qualiyah’s teeth clench in anguish. Yet she never tried to pull her foot away.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun together darlin’,” Ms.Chantilly said while running her thumbnail and index finger along the thick outer edge of the foot. Like many, Qualiyah wasn’t prepared for the sharp agonizing stimulation of those nerves and let out a snort and finally pulled her foot away.
Ms. Chantilly red mouth set into a deep satisfied smirk as she stood up.
“I like you. I can tell you’d rather eat bacon then give in to an ole whitey like me. I might tickle the Islam out of you my sweet…” she paused to read the file.
She looked around the room and saw the same wariness in every woman’s eyes. One set caught her though. They were hard, black and defiant under thin arched eyebrows.
They belonged to Jenina Rodriguez, an intense Puerto Rican in her mid thirties.
She was lean with somewhat fair skin and greeted Ms.Chantilly with an arrogant exaggerated grin.
“Uh oh. You gonna tickle me now lady?”
She stuck out her left foot and wiggled her long toes. The red polish didn’t look as good on her skinny toes as it did on Qualiyah’s plump ones. Ms.Chantilly beckoned one of her assistants.
“For tomorrows treatment, let’s go for a French shall we? Tamara darling, if you would be so kind.”
Jenina was taken surprise as the two dark muscular women sat her down. One sat on her legs facing Ms.Chantilly who held an ornate ballpoint pen about an inch away from her right size eight sole.
Jenina tried to crane her neck around the lady on her legs but she couldn’t. Ms. Chantilly looked up at her just in time to catch the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Are you ready?” Ms. Chantilly delicately asked.
With a nod, Jenina’s square jaw tightened as did the lines around her dark eyes.
With a matronly smile, Ms. Chantilly held up the pen for Jenina to see.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
She elicited the words slowly, winking at Tamara pinning her legs down.
“Yeah, whatever!” Jenina’s face grew red and she shifted her weight.
Ms.Chantilly ducked behind Tamara out of Jenina’s sight. She noticed her feet flex, tensing more and more. She leaned forward, lips an inch or so from her toes. They smelled delicious up close, and Ms. Chantilly craved nothing more than to suck away on them and nibble the tiny birthmark on the ball of her left foot but just blew on them slightly, making them wiggle. Suddenly, she shouted, “Clock!”
Tamara got off Janina and adjusted her watch and the other assistant quickly came forward with a small brown case. Jenina now looked nervous as her ankles were restrained by nylon cords and her big toes were tied together. Another cord connecting toes to ankles was fastened, stretching Jenina’s soles back taut.
“Two-minute challenge. If you, in any way implore me to stop before time is up or pull your legs away you are eliminated and therefore ineligible for the grant. Are you ready, Ms. Rodriguez?”
Jenina’s face was already flushed and her dark eyes were opened wide. She took a deep breath and nodded, “Let’s go.”
Ms. Chantilly let the moment linger and stared into Jenina’s eyes before signaling Tamara.
“GO!”
The tip of the pen dug nicely into the soft flesh beneath her big toe so that’s where Ms. Chantilly began on her left foot.
Janina’s thin lips pressed into each other and she balled her hands into fists.
“Let’s do the math shall we?”
She carefully wrote a five so that the lower half would graze the smooth ball and went over it repeatedly to darken it, delighting in making Janina whip her long raven ponytail around as she furiously shook her head.
“Five. That’s how many children you have is it not?” Ms.Chantilly asked cheerfully.
“Y-yyesssss,” hissed Janina.
“Yet you can only afford to take care of two of them. The other three are with paternal grandparents in Puerto Rico, correct?”
She drew a small 2 and 3 next to the five connecting them with an arrow. The smaller writing took a firmer stroke and caused Janina to squeal through her clenched teeth, “Ayyyyyyyy,” before biting her lip.
Ms.Chantilly picked up the pace and began looping another five under her middle toe. As Janina thrashed her head to and fro, she followed it with a zero, then another, then another. She pushed the pen firmly into the soft flesh as she repeatedly dragged the tip over the numerals.
“I reckon five thousand dollars a week for life could fix that, couldn’t it Ms. Rodriguez? It could set those children up very nicely. Imagine moving into your very own home…”
Ms. Chantilly loved how simply talking to the victim distracted them just enough to rob that extra little slice of will power that could mean the difference between survival and submission.
She slowly drew an X under the numbers, relishing the glide of the ink across the soft sole skin.
“Ahhhhhhhahahaha,” Janina struggled.
“Five thousand a week. In a year that is…”
She looked up at Tamara who held up a finger to signify that a minute remained.
The intolerable repetition on the 52 made Janina sputter as she attempted to compose herself. Her face was beet red, seemingly about to explode from the tight lines in her forehead while Ms.Chantilly fussed over the multiplication.
“Let’s see here. Carry the one…No, no. That’s wrong.”
Furiously, she scribbled over her calculations and Janina exploded with laughter.
“Heeheeheeheeheeheehahhahahahheeeeeeeehhaha!”
Standing up, Ms.Chantilly turned to face the rest of the women who were transfixed in horror.
“Over a quarter-million dollars a year –tax free!” she proudly exclaimed. She then turned to her other assistant.
“Penelope, would you be a dear and finish up Ms. Rodriguez for me?”
With a small cup and the case in her hands Penelope wasted no time sitting down and extracting a small brush. She dipped it into the cup which contained soapy water and began manically scrubbing Janina’s inky sole.
Ms. Chantilly paused to allow the scream she knew was coming.
“AhhhhhhhhhhahahahhahaAyDioAyDioahahhah!!!”
Tamara mouthed a silent countdown and Ms. Chantilly leaned over and began raking all ten of her nails up Janina’s right sole.
“OhohohohohhahahahhahahohGodayDiosMioooooooo!”
“Are you ready to give up Ms.Rodriguez?”
She thrashed around screaming unable to enunciate a single syllable.
“I think you are.” With that she bent over those long toes and licked the underside of her middle one, then darted her tongue between that one and the smaller next one, quickly nibbling the toe pads as she did.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Janina howled, tears now falling from her frantic reddened eyes.
The buzzer sounded from Tamara’s watch and the two women stepped away from her smiling to each other.
“Well I’ll be. Saved in the nick of time weren’t you?” Ms.Chantilly inquired of the exhausted Janina. Her ponytail had become undone and pitch black hair hung straight down as she tried to catch her breath.
“You’re not so tough. I’m fixin’ to make a project out of you so consider today your lucky day!”
She walked away and surveyed the women as she passed.
Next was the tall, willowy Indian beauty with large chocolate eyes. She was shaking slightly, eyes cast downward. The tiny Thai girl avoided eye contact but smiled. The short, stocky Israeli stood with her thick arms behind her back staring blankly ahead with steely gray eyes. Her name was Hila Golz and she was a rising star in her law firm. Ms. Chantilly moved past Hila, stopping in front of her boss, Catherine St.George. Ms.Chantilly examined her old friend coolly. Catherine had volunteered herself and her protégé to participate in the competition because of the sheer sense of challenge. Catherine longed to conquer her fear of tickling and Hila simply never met a challenge she didn’t like. If she didn’t survive at least two rounds, Catherine was responsible for underwriting half of the grant. Hila planned to send her winnings directly to her childhood kibbutz near the town of Ariel.
Catherine tried not to smile as Ms. Chantilly looked down at her long, tanned feet. Wordlessly, she walked away from to her, to the short, muscular Asian girl covered in tattoos. Her name was Xin Li Xu and she was the lead singer/screamer of Scar Factory. She averted her gaze as the older lady approached her. Her short toes were painted black and tattoos spilled down her ankles and over the tops of her feet and Ms. Chantilly suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off those yummy-looking little toes and illustrations on those light brown feet.
“Congratulations, you’re up first deah. Tonight, sometime between nine pm and one am.”
Xin cocked an eyebrow and tried to appear unimpressed but she looked over at Jenina who was slumped over heaving, still trying to catch her breath.
“That’s just after two minutes. The first round lasts for five minutes!” She held up a hand for emphasis. Under the short black bangs, Xin’s brow furrowed and she wiggled her toes. Ms. Chantilly stopped and bit her lip at the sight.
“Rest well and eat well, ladies. It’s going to be a very trying week for y’all. And a delightful one for myself. Good luck to each and every one of you!”
As she walked away, she winked at Xin who was staring down at her own feet with a twinge of worry that hadn’t been there before.
