Laffy Daffy
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2009
- Messages
- 207
- Points
- 0
OK, here's part three of the ongoing story. Hope everyone's enjoying it, and as always, feedback is much appreciated. Also, readers beware, a lot of setup in this story, and more f/m than we've had so far, with much more /f tickling coming in part four.
That's it, so read on!
Part Three
At first light all three of us were standing at the front desk, smiling sheepishly at each other. I was definitely ready to go, and Veronique seemed to be struggling to contain herself as we made our arrangements to leave the hotel. After parting from the couple the night before, I had bought more liquor and wandered around until I found a boat tour service that was still open, and enlisted the help of a driver for the following morning. I also bought a kayak in a spur of the moment decision, deciding it would be some sort of help to whatever cover story we decided to feed anyone who asked us what the hell we were doing.
I explained all of this to my companions as I lugged the damn kayak (which I hadn’t noticed the night before was a very comforting shade of pink) down to where I was told to meet the boat. JP looked a little nervous when I mentioned swimming from our island to TB’s island, but Veronique told him that he could ride in the kayak instead of her, as I had originally suggested. It didn’t seem very chivalrous to leave her in the water with me, but it seemed she was obviously the better swimmer, and I didn’t need to play lifeguard out in the middle of the ocean. I was far from worried myself, having been surfing all over the world as well as growing up ten minutes from the beach back in the good old US of A. Both seemed impressed with my taking charge, and offered to reimburse me, an offer I declined. I wasn’t sure if they simply hadn’t thought of what we were going to do, or if I had unofficially been christened the leader of the expedition, but either way they had passed my test.
Before I can ever travel with another person or group, I have to throw a little test out there and see how they do. I’m not strict about the results, but if I plan on being stuck with someone for any length of time, I have to know if they’re a control freak or a moocher or an ax murderer. The easiest way I’ve found to do this is to simply take control of a minor situation and handle it without consulting anyone at all. Good travel companions know that situations like this will come up often, and that there’s not always a chance to sit and discuss every detail. They will respect the decision, and sometimes even be grateful for what was done. Bad travel companions will either dismiss it entirely or blow it out of proportion. Or murder you with an ax. I haven’t run into anyone that crazy yet, but believe me, they’re out there.
Veronique and JP seemed delighted at the idea of a boat trip, and both nodded attentively when I explained we were tourist buddies who wanted to explore island to island using our own private kayak. Plus, I said with a wink, the kayak was big enough to two, allowing them some privacy if and when they wanted it. I meant it as a joke, but when we were piling our packs into the boat and tying the kayak along behind, Veronique flirted shamelessly with the dock attendant and used the exact line when he pointed out that we were three people with one kayak. She was a sharp one, that was for sure.
We got into the boat, me at the front, Veronique in the middle leaning back onto JP, and the boatman at the back, operating the ancient looking motor. I always enjoy getting the fine spray of sea water off the front of the boat, and if I knew Veronique at all, I figured her flip flops would be long gone by the time we made it out of port and I had put myself in prime viewing territory.
And I was 100 percent right. I knew she was playing with me, instead of JP, and it was driving me crazy. He either wasn’t a foot guy, or was so used to hers that he was no longer fazed by it, but either way he was just looking out to sea, past her cute little toes and onto the islands we were supposedly kayaking between. From my point of view I could see both soles as she flexed and curled and wiggled both feet until I was ready to dive across the little motorboat and tickle her insane, regardless of our boatman or her boyfriend. Knowing how ticklish those silky smooth feet of hers were and how they would squirm under my fingertips… well she had me; that was for sure.
I think she caught me peeking a couple of times, and I finally drew the line when the boatman gave me a knowing smile, probably assuming I was looking up her skirt. As hard as it was to tear my eyes away from the Veronique’s gorgeous soles, there was a rather beautiful landscape to take in. It was still early in the day, and the sky was about six different shades of blue, the light and dark playing together to create a seamless backdrop for wisps of pink and orange clouds, still reflecting fractured colors from the morning’s sunrise. The ocean itself was a little choppy, which clashed perfectly against the smooth sky. Of all the places I’ve been, Asia’s beauty is without a doubt the most underrated. Travelers can brag about the peaks of South America or the wonders of Africa until they’re blue in the face, but Southeast Asia has them all beat, hands down. In my opinion anyway.
The rocking of the boat seemed to have JP a little out of his comfort zone, and I watched him and Veronique whisper back and forth. I think they were both relieved when we idled up to a sandbar fifty yards from our island of choice. The boatman gestured to the sandbar ahead and shrugged, as if to say “you’re on your own.” So I tipped the man, and we hopped out, our kayak in tow, and watched him turn and motor off, in search of more tourists he could strand throughout the islands. I turned back towards the island, and saw Veronique already swimming for shore.
“Race you to the beach! Last one in gets tickled!” Her words were muffled by the water and the fact that she was downwind, but I got the idea. I looked at JP who was staring at the short patch of darker blue water apprehensively. I threw the kayak’s harness over my shoulders and smiled at him.
“Want me to throw it? I don’t mind being the first to get tickled on the trip.”
I watched a battle rage on his face for a second; his pride was at war with his discomfort with swimming, and I felt bad for a second. Then he responded.
“You can’t possibly beat me with that boat strapped to your back.”
“I will if I want to. I’m a hell of a swimmer.”
“Silly American.” He smiled, taunting me to distract himself from the task at hand. “So confidant in your ability to dominate everyone.”
“You’ve got five seconds.”
He laughed, but when I started counting, he clumsily plopped into the water and began to paddle for shore. I double checked the harness, gauged his speed, and dove in after him.
It wasn’t even close. I overtook him about twenty yards from shore, and by the time he was able to wade through waist deep water, I had secured our kayak on the sand and was sitting next to Veronique with a cocky smile. He flipped me the bird as he got out of the water, and I blew him a kiss.
“I gave you a chance, Frenchy. You should know better than to bet against an admitted swim freak.”
He was still breathing hard, which amazed me, considering his doggy paddle had really never brought him to a speed that I would consider exercise, but I guess the water can be pretty daunting for the land lubbers among us. And I didn’t want to make him feel too bad, so I continued with the line of thought.
“Of course, your girlfriend smoked us both, so I guess I shouldn’t brag too much.”
This had obviously been the opportunity Veronique had been waiting for. She let out a victory cheer and then leaped up onto JP’s back, riding him to the ground with her fingers already squirming under his wet t-shirt. Her attack had worked perfectly, she was sitting on his back, tickling up and down his ribs and under his arms, and no matter how much he tried to wiggle out from under her, she held steady, tickling unmercifully. I wandered up the beach to set up the tents, trying to seem oblivious but really sneaking glances at every possible second. This girl was the tickler from my dreams and from my nightmares, and she seemed to enjoy going back and forth between the roles.
She stopped for a second and reached back, speaking to him in a voice too low for me to hear, but I assume she threatened his feet, as he began to beg and kick as best he could. She laughed and tweaked his sides a few more times, but then got up, letting him curl into a ball on the sand, gasping for breath.
She walked up the beach, right towards me, her wet clothes clinging to her body and her movement so sexy that I felt my legs quiver for a second. She flashed a brilliant grin as she passed me, and rummaged around in her bag, producing a granola bar which she ripped open and began to snack on. She was completely aware of her beauty, but unfazed by it, and how it affected those around her. I still hadn’t decided if it was a strength or a weakness.
Setting up camp took barely any time at all, and soon JP was snoozing in the sun, with Veronique working on her already excellent tan beside him. I went for a long swim, and when I returned, Veronique jumped up off the sand and grabbed my arm.
"Will you go exploring with me? Jean is too tired, and thinks we'll get lost, but I know you'll be able to find your way."
"Umm, sure. I think we should be OK, this island isn't really big enough to be lost for too long. You sure you don't wanna come along JP?"
He waved a hand dismissively in our direction, and I grabbed my sneakers as we set off into the light jungle beyond our campsite. We walked for about fifteen minutes, then were faced with the choice of going into thicker foliage or up a series of rock ledges. Luckily, I was able to talk her into the rocks, and after a little light climbing, we were rewarded with a sandy clearing looking out over the ocean. There was a small opening in the rock that I think must have been a bird's nest, because the opening and the sand around it were covered with feathers. Which of course gave Veronique a wonderful idea.
“Oh come on, all these feathers? We’d be crazy not to use them. I’ll make you a deal. If you can hold that branch above your head through more upper body tickling than I can, you get to try as many of them out on my pretty little soles as you want.”
“And if I lose?”
She smiled, and nodded to my sneakers. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I guess I don’t. How can we keep track of who wins?”
“My watch.” She held up her left hand, and around her dainty wrist was a waterproof digital watch.
“Fair enough. So grab the branch.”
“Oh, am I to go first?”
“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
She smirked, and then went up on tip toes to reach the branch. I took in the view shamelessly, surveying the ticklish skin I would soon be tormenting. Her bikini top left very little to the imagination, and I don’t know what she had been doing to stay in shape for the couple of months her and JP had been bouncing around Asia, but it was working. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, and although I usually prefer a little cushion here and there, I couldn’t possibly imagine improving on the flawless canvas in front of me. And since I had missed my chance at tickling her upper body the night before, I had some catching up to do.
“OK, are you ready?”
She stuck out her tongue in response, and I immediately scrambled my fingers up and down her sides. My reward was a burst of unrestrained laughter that flew from her smiling mouth like music through a stereo. Her feet lifted a tiny bit off the ground and she twisted a little from side to side, but quickly regained her control and taunted me through her laughs. “Is that HAhahaahahahaaa aaaall you gaahhaattttt?”
She laughed and twisted as I tickled across her lower sides to her tummy, using feather light spider tickles to get her worked up. I’m not too good with the squeeze tickles, but if my lee is sensitive to a light touch on the tummy/sides/ribs region, they’re a goner. And from her quivering belly, I was pretty sure Veronique would be quick to agree with that assessment, as she screwed her eyes shut and laughed like there was no tomorrow.
The problem, once again, was that even though she was laughing hard, she was clearly enjoying herself. Just like tickling her feet the night before, I couldn’t seem to find a hot spot that caused the screamy, desperate laughter that precedes a lee’s beg for mercy. She squirmed under my wiggling fingers, and I could see tears in the corners of her eyes, but she was still sneaking barbs between her laughter, calling me names in French and telling me to stop taking it easy on her. The girl was impossible!
So I did what any man in my situation would do: cheated. As I continued feather light touches all over her tummy with my left hand, my right dropped slowly down and without warning attacked the insides of her thighs. I was well below what would be considered inappropriate (in my mind anyway), but the reaction was exactly what I was looking for, as Veronique screeched and let go of the branch, crumpling to the ground. I froze for a second, the sound of her scream echoing in my ears, and I wasn’t sure if I should celebrate, or prepare for her wrath.
True to form, she popped back up within seconds and wagged a finger at me. “That was a cheap trick, but I’ll let you have it since I’m going to beat you anyway.” She tapped the watch, now on my wrist to keep time, and I realized I had forgotten to stop it, giving her an extra ten or fifteen seconds on her already impressive time of over six minutes.
“Think you can really hold out? You’re definitely more ticklish than I am.”
“I am not.” I knew the words weren’t true, but I had to say something.
“Oh no? Perhaps we should up the ante then.”
“Name your stakes.” My mouth really has a tendency to run away from me when I’m talking to a pretty girl.
“Loser not only gets tickled now, but once we eat, they stay buried in sand until the winner decides it’s time for bed.”
How long could we possibly stay awake on a deserted island after eating? And if I could somehow pull myself together and not submit to those tickly fingers of hers, how could I possibly refuse that much time listening to that beautiful laugh while JP and I took turns playing with those perfect feet. My mind was screaming out that I was making a sucker bet, but as usual, I didn’t listen.
“Let’s do it. I hope you don’t mind getting sandy.”
“Oh, I hate being buried in sand. But I’m not the one who needs to worry about it.”
“Strong words from such a small girl.”
“Hands on the branch, monsieur.”
My hands had barely wrapped around the branch when I felt her tiny fingers creeping up and down my ribcage. I had left my shirt down on the beach, and it was turning out to be a bigger mistake than I had anticipated. I was only giggling, but I could tell she wasn’t even trying to tickle me, just to remind me how much trouble I was in. I wanted to tease her as she had teased me, but I figured encouragement was the last thing this girl needed. I knew I was right when her wiggling fingers plunged into my armpits and the torture really started.
She had found most of my weak spots the night before on the cot, and she didn’t waste any time relocating them now. Her fingers were too fast for my tortured brain to keep up with, and I lost track of them as I laughed long and loud. She kept up the teasing as she went. “Oooh, James, you’re so ticklish. I can’t wait until you’re trapped in the sand aaaaaall night long.”
Clearly the first minute had been warm up, as she got serious real quick and got into my hips again. My pride came screaming back up for a moment, demanding I hold out against the tickling that had turned me into a squealing mess the night before, but soon it was washed away in the gales of laughter. I twisted and squirmed, but it seemed like she had glued her hands to my hips, and I couldn’t get away to save my life. Or my pride, which as it turns out, was the next to go. I dropped the branch and tried to jump away, but she stayed with me, and my legs gave out to the tickling sensations.
“OK OK!! YOU WIN HAHAHAHAAHAAA STAAHHAAHAHAAPP TICKLINNGGHAHAHEHEHEHEE”
She finally stopped, standing over me with her arms raised over her head in victory.
“You lose, James-y. I’ll tell you, I’m starting to really enjoy how ticklish you are.”
“Gee, lucky me.”
So I lay on my stomach as she picked out her feathers, and soon enough I felt her lift my feet into her lap and then her legs locked around mine. She didn’t even waste time untying my shoes, electing instead to yank them off and discard them. “Try not to scream too loud. It’d be a shame if we got carted off this island before we even had a chance to get to the beach.”
I had a witty remark planned, but it was totally lost when she started with the quills of two feathers right in the center of my soles. All I could do was scream out in laughter as she dragged them relentlessly up and down my bare feet, explaining her strategy as she went.
“See, the key to a guaranteed good feather tickle is to get the victim laughing hard early on. That way, once the softer tickles start, they’ll already be laughing enough that they can’t stop, and even the lightest touch of the feather will bring on some good laughs.” She paused, still raking the quills up and down with a maddening consistency. I pounded the ground with my fists and laughed helplessly in agreement, and giggled and continued. “I’d say it’s working pretty well, wouldn’t you? James? You know it’s impolite to ignore a lady’s question.”
She stopped the quills just long enough for me to take one deep breath, and then the soft ends of the feathers made their first appearance, wiggling under my toes. And damn if she wasn’t right. It was like the laughter had been lurking in my throat just waiting for the slightest excuse to start pouring out again. And feathers under the toes was an excellent excuse.
“BWAHHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!” There weren’t even words anymore, just a steady stream of laughs as she alternated between feathering the more sensitive parts of my feet, and using the quills and her nails on everywhere else. We hadn’t set a time limit on my punishment, a mistake I wouldn’t make again in the near future. I guess she finally felt bad for me and released me, because I ended up a sweaty mess, laying in a pile of sand and feathers, trying to find my breath again. I watched those beautiful little feet prance past me, and cursed myself for being so foolish yet again.
Once I recovered I caught up with her walking back down to the beach, and we emerged together, chatting about something insignificant. The sun was already going down, and I realized we had been gone longer than I expected. I was the first to look up, and catch sight of JP sitting in the sand, staring at us with a look that made me very uncomfortable. It wasn’t openly hateful, but I read suspicion all over his face, and even if that was wrong, he clearly wasn’t as happy someone sitting on a beach in the middle of paradise should be. I had stopped talking, and it only took Veronique a few seconds to notice. Her attention immediately shifted to JP, and before either of us could say a word, he addressed us both.
“Ah, the tickle-buddies have returned. Did you have fun on your tour of the island?”
We exchanged a look, and again he jumped in before either of us could. “I heard you, up in the woods, laughing back and forth. Perhaps you do not feel comfortable doing such intimate things without me? If this is the case, perhaps this Beach of yours isn’t a place I should be going.”
His French accent was doubly strong in his anger, and I was battling the urge to crack a joke to try and break the tension. Luckily, he chose that moment to storm off in a huff, and Veronique shook her head and said to me, “I better go after him.”
I nodded, and told her we’d best save the second half of our bet for another time. She frowned, but agreed, and headed off after her boyfriend. I watched her go with a twinge of guilt, knowing that I was directly responsible for whatever fighting they would do tonight, and that I wasn’t really sorry for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly the time for an existential crisis, I thought as I laid my sleeping bag out under the darkening sky. We had a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and I hoped the discovery of Tickle Beach would be more than enough to leave any lingering bad feelings in the past.
That's it, so read on!
Part Three
At first light all three of us were standing at the front desk, smiling sheepishly at each other. I was definitely ready to go, and Veronique seemed to be struggling to contain herself as we made our arrangements to leave the hotel. After parting from the couple the night before, I had bought more liquor and wandered around until I found a boat tour service that was still open, and enlisted the help of a driver for the following morning. I also bought a kayak in a spur of the moment decision, deciding it would be some sort of help to whatever cover story we decided to feed anyone who asked us what the hell we were doing.
I explained all of this to my companions as I lugged the damn kayak (which I hadn’t noticed the night before was a very comforting shade of pink) down to where I was told to meet the boat. JP looked a little nervous when I mentioned swimming from our island to TB’s island, but Veronique told him that he could ride in the kayak instead of her, as I had originally suggested. It didn’t seem very chivalrous to leave her in the water with me, but it seemed she was obviously the better swimmer, and I didn’t need to play lifeguard out in the middle of the ocean. I was far from worried myself, having been surfing all over the world as well as growing up ten minutes from the beach back in the good old US of A. Both seemed impressed with my taking charge, and offered to reimburse me, an offer I declined. I wasn’t sure if they simply hadn’t thought of what we were going to do, or if I had unofficially been christened the leader of the expedition, but either way they had passed my test.
Before I can ever travel with another person or group, I have to throw a little test out there and see how they do. I’m not strict about the results, but if I plan on being stuck with someone for any length of time, I have to know if they’re a control freak or a moocher or an ax murderer. The easiest way I’ve found to do this is to simply take control of a minor situation and handle it without consulting anyone at all. Good travel companions know that situations like this will come up often, and that there’s not always a chance to sit and discuss every detail. They will respect the decision, and sometimes even be grateful for what was done. Bad travel companions will either dismiss it entirely or blow it out of proportion. Or murder you with an ax. I haven’t run into anyone that crazy yet, but believe me, they’re out there.
Veronique and JP seemed delighted at the idea of a boat trip, and both nodded attentively when I explained we were tourist buddies who wanted to explore island to island using our own private kayak. Plus, I said with a wink, the kayak was big enough to two, allowing them some privacy if and when they wanted it. I meant it as a joke, but when we were piling our packs into the boat and tying the kayak along behind, Veronique flirted shamelessly with the dock attendant and used the exact line when he pointed out that we were three people with one kayak. She was a sharp one, that was for sure.
We got into the boat, me at the front, Veronique in the middle leaning back onto JP, and the boatman at the back, operating the ancient looking motor. I always enjoy getting the fine spray of sea water off the front of the boat, and if I knew Veronique at all, I figured her flip flops would be long gone by the time we made it out of port and I had put myself in prime viewing territory.
And I was 100 percent right. I knew she was playing with me, instead of JP, and it was driving me crazy. He either wasn’t a foot guy, or was so used to hers that he was no longer fazed by it, but either way he was just looking out to sea, past her cute little toes and onto the islands we were supposedly kayaking between. From my point of view I could see both soles as she flexed and curled and wiggled both feet until I was ready to dive across the little motorboat and tickle her insane, regardless of our boatman or her boyfriend. Knowing how ticklish those silky smooth feet of hers were and how they would squirm under my fingertips… well she had me; that was for sure.
I think she caught me peeking a couple of times, and I finally drew the line when the boatman gave me a knowing smile, probably assuming I was looking up her skirt. As hard as it was to tear my eyes away from the Veronique’s gorgeous soles, there was a rather beautiful landscape to take in. It was still early in the day, and the sky was about six different shades of blue, the light and dark playing together to create a seamless backdrop for wisps of pink and orange clouds, still reflecting fractured colors from the morning’s sunrise. The ocean itself was a little choppy, which clashed perfectly against the smooth sky. Of all the places I’ve been, Asia’s beauty is without a doubt the most underrated. Travelers can brag about the peaks of South America or the wonders of Africa until they’re blue in the face, but Southeast Asia has them all beat, hands down. In my opinion anyway.
The rocking of the boat seemed to have JP a little out of his comfort zone, and I watched him and Veronique whisper back and forth. I think they were both relieved when we idled up to a sandbar fifty yards from our island of choice. The boatman gestured to the sandbar ahead and shrugged, as if to say “you’re on your own.” So I tipped the man, and we hopped out, our kayak in tow, and watched him turn and motor off, in search of more tourists he could strand throughout the islands. I turned back towards the island, and saw Veronique already swimming for shore.
“Race you to the beach! Last one in gets tickled!” Her words were muffled by the water and the fact that she was downwind, but I got the idea. I looked at JP who was staring at the short patch of darker blue water apprehensively. I threw the kayak’s harness over my shoulders and smiled at him.
“Want me to throw it? I don’t mind being the first to get tickled on the trip.”
I watched a battle rage on his face for a second; his pride was at war with his discomfort with swimming, and I felt bad for a second. Then he responded.
“You can’t possibly beat me with that boat strapped to your back.”
“I will if I want to. I’m a hell of a swimmer.”
“Silly American.” He smiled, taunting me to distract himself from the task at hand. “So confidant in your ability to dominate everyone.”
“You’ve got five seconds.”
He laughed, but when I started counting, he clumsily plopped into the water and began to paddle for shore. I double checked the harness, gauged his speed, and dove in after him.
It wasn’t even close. I overtook him about twenty yards from shore, and by the time he was able to wade through waist deep water, I had secured our kayak on the sand and was sitting next to Veronique with a cocky smile. He flipped me the bird as he got out of the water, and I blew him a kiss.
“I gave you a chance, Frenchy. You should know better than to bet against an admitted swim freak.”
He was still breathing hard, which amazed me, considering his doggy paddle had really never brought him to a speed that I would consider exercise, but I guess the water can be pretty daunting for the land lubbers among us. And I didn’t want to make him feel too bad, so I continued with the line of thought.
“Of course, your girlfriend smoked us both, so I guess I shouldn’t brag too much.”
This had obviously been the opportunity Veronique had been waiting for. She let out a victory cheer and then leaped up onto JP’s back, riding him to the ground with her fingers already squirming under his wet t-shirt. Her attack had worked perfectly, she was sitting on his back, tickling up and down his ribs and under his arms, and no matter how much he tried to wiggle out from under her, she held steady, tickling unmercifully. I wandered up the beach to set up the tents, trying to seem oblivious but really sneaking glances at every possible second. This girl was the tickler from my dreams and from my nightmares, and she seemed to enjoy going back and forth between the roles.
She stopped for a second and reached back, speaking to him in a voice too low for me to hear, but I assume she threatened his feet, as he began to beg and kick as best he could. She laughed and tweaked his sides a few more times, but then got up, letting him curl into a ball on the sand, gasping for breath.
She walked up the beach, right towards me, her wet clothes clinging to her body and her movement so sexy that I felt my legs quiver for a second. She flashed a brilliant grin as she passed me, and rummaged around in her bag, producing a granola bar which she ripped open and began to snack on. She was completely aware of her beauty, but unfazed by it, and how it affected those around her. I still hadn’t decided if it was a strength or a weakness.
Setting up camp took barely any time at all, and soon JP was snoozing in the sun, with Veronique working on her already excellent tan beside him. I went for a long swim, and when I returned, Veronique jumped up off the sand and grabbed my arm.
"Will you go exploring with me? Jean is too tired, and thinks we'll get lost, but I know you'll be able to find your way."
"Umm, sure. I think we should be OK, this island isn't really big enough to be lost for too long. You sure you don't wanna come along JP?"
He waved a hand dismissively in our direction, and I grabbed my sneakers as we set off into the light jungle beyond our campsite. We walked for about fifteen minutes, then were faced with the choice of going into thicker foliage or up a series of rock ledges. Luckily, I was able to talk her into the rocks, and after a little light climbing, we were rewarded with a sandy clearing looking out over the ocean. There was a small opening in the rock that I think must have been a bird's nest, because the opening and the sand around it were covered with feathers. Which of course gave Veronique a wonderful idea.
“Oh come on, all these feathers? We’d be crazy not to use them. I’ll make you a deal. If you can hold that branch above your head through more upper body tickling than I can, you get to try as many of them out on my pretty little soles as you want.”
“And if I lose?”
She smiled, and nodded to my sneakers. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I guess I don’t. How can we keep track of who wins?”
“My watch.” She held up her left hand, and around her dainty wrist was a waterproof digital watch.
“Fair enough. So grab the branch.”
“Oh, am I to go first?”
“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
She smirked, and then went up on tip toes to reach the branch. I took in the view shamelessly, surveying the ticklish skin I would soon be tormenting. Her bikini top left very little to the imagination, and I don’t know what she had been doing to stay in shape for the couple of months her and JP had been bouncing around Asia, but it was working. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, and although I usually prefer a little cushion here and there, I couldn’t possibly imagine improving on the flawless canvas in front of me. And since I had missed my chance at tickling her upper body the night before, I had some catching up to do.
“OK, are you ready?”
She stuck out her tongue in response, and I immediately scrambled my fingers up and down her sides. My reward was a burst of unrestrained laughter that flew from her smiling mouth like music through a stereo. Her feet lifted a tiny bit off the ground and she twisted a little from side to side, but quickly regained her control and taunted me through her laughs. “Is that HAhahaahahahaaa aaaall you gaahhaattttt?”
She laughed and twisted as I tickled across her lower sides to her tummy, using feather light spider tickles to get her worked up. I’m not too good with the squeeze tickles, but if my lee is sensitive to a light touch on the tummy/sides/ribs region, they’re a goner. And from her quivering belly, I was pretty sure Veronique would be quick to agree with that assessment, as she screwed her eyes shut and laughed like there was no tomorrow.
The problem, once again, was that even though she was laughing hard, she was clearly enjoying herself. Just like tickling her feet the night before, I couldn’t seem to find a hot spot that caused the screamy, desperate laughter that precedes a lee’s beg for mercy. She squirmed under my wiggling fingers, and I could see tears in the corners of her eyes, but she was still sneaking barbs between her laughter, calling me names in French and telling me to stop taking it easy on her. The girl was impossible!
So I did what any man in my situation would do: cheated. As I continued feather light touches all over her tummy with my left hand, my right dropped slowly down and without warning attacked the insides of her thighs. I was well below what would be considered inappropriate (in my mind anyway), but the reaction was exactly what I was looking for, as Veronique screeched and let go of the branch, crumpling to the ground. I froze for a second, the sound of her scream echoing in my ears, and I wasn’t sure if I should celebrate, or prepare for her wrath.
True to form, she popped back up within seconds and wagged a finger at me. “That was a cheap trick, but I’ll let you have it since I’m going to beat you anyway.” She tapped the watch, now on my wrist to keep time, and I realized I had forgotten to stop it, giving her an extra ten or fifteen seconds on her already impressive time of over six minutes.
“Think you can really hold out? You’re definitely more ticklish than I am.”
“I am not.” I knew the words weren’t true, but I had to say something.
“Oh no? Perhaps we should up the ante then.”
“Name your stakes.” My mouth really has a tendency to run away from me when I’m talking to a pretty girl.
“Loser not only gets tickled now, but once we eat, they stay buried in sand until the winner decides it’s time for bed.”
How long could we possibly stay awake on a deserted island after eating? And if I could somehow pull myself together and not submit to those tickly fingers of hers, how could I possibly refuse that much time listening to that beautiful laugh while JP and I took turns playing with those perfect feet. My mind was screaming out that I was making a sucker bet, but as usual, I didn’t listen.
“Let’s do it. I hope you don’t mind getting sandy.”
“Oh, I hate being buried in sand. But I’m not the one who needs to worry about it.”
“Strong words from such a small girl.”
“Hands on the branch, monsieur.”
My hands had barely wrapped around the branch when I felt her tiny fingers creeping up and down my ribcage. I had left my shirt down on the beach, and it was turning out to be a bigger mistake than I had anticipated. I was only giggling, but I could tell she wasn’t even trying to tickle me, just to remind me how much trouble I was in. I wanted to tease her as she had teased me, but I figured encouragement was the last thing this girl needed. I knew I was right when her wiggling fingers plunged into my armpits and the torture really started.
She had found most of my weak spots the night before on the cot, and she didn’t waste any time relocating them now. Her fingers were too fast for my tortured brain to keep up with, and I lost track of them as I laughed long and loud. She kept up the teasing as she went. “Oooh, James, you’re so ticklish. I can’t wait until you’re trapped in the sand aaaaaall night long.”
Clearly the first minute had been warm up, as she got serious real quick and got into my hips again. My pride came screaming back up for a moment, demanding I hold out against the tickling that had turned me into a squealing mess the night before, but soon it was washed away in the gales of laughter. I twisted and squirmed, but it seemed like she had glued her hands to my hips, and I couldn’t get away to save my life. Or my pride, which as it turns out, was the next to go. I dropped the branch and tried to jump away, but she stayed with me, and my legs gave out to the tickling sensations.
“OK OK!! YOU WIN HAHAHAHAAHAAA STAAHHAAHAHAAPP TICKLINNGGHAHAHEHEHEHEE”
She finally stopped, standing over me with her arms raised over her head in victory.
“You lose, James-y. I’ll tell you, I’m starting to really enjoy how ticklish you are.”
“Gee, lucky me.”
So I lay on my stomach as she picked out her feathers, and soon enough I felt her lift my feet into her lap and then her legs locked around mine. She didn’t even waste time untying my shoes, electing instead to yank them off and discard them. “Try not to scream too loud. It’d be a shame if we got carted off this island before we even had a chance to get to the beach.”
I had a witty remark planned, but it was totally lost when she started with the quills of two feathers right in the center of my soles. All I could do was scream out in laughter as she dragged them relentlessly up and down my bare feet, explaining her strategy as she went.
“See, the key to a guaranteed good feather tickle is to get the victim laughing hard early on. That way, once the softer tickles start, they’ll already be laughing enough that they can’t stop, and even the lightest touch of the feather will bring on some good laughs.” She paused, still raking the quills up and down with a maddening consistency. I pounded the ground with my fists and laughed helplessly in agreement, and giggled and continued. “I’d say it’s working pretty well, wouldn’t you? James? You know it’s impolite to ignore a lady’s question.”
She stopped the quills just long enough for me to take one deep breath, and then the soft ends of the feathers made their first appearance, wiggling under my toes. And damn if she wasn’t right. It was like the laughter had been lurking in my throat just waiting for the slightest excuse to start pouring out again. And feathers under the toes was an excellent excuse.
“BWAHHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!” There weren’t even words anymore, just a steady stream of laughs as she alternated between feathering the more sensitive parts of my feet, and using the quills and her nails on everywhere else. We hadn’t set a time limit on my punishment, a mistake I wouldn’t make again in the near future. I guess she finally felt bad for me and released me, because I ended up a sweaty mess, laying in a pile of sand and feathers, trying to find my breath again. I watched those beautiful little feet prance past me, and cursed myself for being so foolish yet again.
Once I recovered I caught up with her walking back down to the beach, and we emerged together, chatting about something insignificant. The sun was already going down, and I realized we had been gone longer than I expected. I was the first to look up, and catch sight of JP sitting in the sand, staring at us with a look that made me very uncomfortable. It wasn’t openly hateful, but I read suspicion all over his face, and even if that was wrong, he clearly wasn’t as happy someone sitting on a beach in the middle of paradise should be. I had stopped talking, and it only took Veronique a few seconds to notice. Her attention immediately shifted to JP, and before either of us could say a word, he addressed us both.
“Ah, the tickle-buddies have returned. Did you have fun on your tour of the island?”
We exchanged a look, and again he jumped in before either of us could. “I heard you, up in the woods, laughing back and forth. Perhaps you do not feel comfortable doing such intimate things without me? If this is the case, perhaps this Beach of yours isn’t a place I should be going.”
His French accent was doubly strong in his anger, and I was battling the urge to crack a joke to try and break the tension. Luckily, he chose that moment to storm off in a huff, and Veronique shook her head and said to me, “I better go after him.”
I nodded, and told her we’d best save the second half of our bet for another time. She frowned, but agreed, and headed off after her boyfriend. I watched her go with a twinge of guilt, knowing that I was directly responsible for whatever fighting they would do tonight, and that I wasn’t really sorry for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly the time for an existential crisis, I thought as I laid my sleeping bag out under the darkening sky. We had a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and I hoped the discovery of Tickle Beach would be more than enough to leave any lingering bad feelings in the past.
