fletcher_e_kite
Registered User
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2010
- Messages
- 16
- Points
- 0
Hi All,
This is the first chapter of a multi-part piece of tickling fiction I am working on. I am planning on developing it into quite a substantial work, so I would ask you to bear with the lack of actual tickling early on, as I hope the finished story will be well worth the scene setting.
I intend to post subsequent parts as an when they are complete, (Like a serial), but as I have to fit writing around my day job, I won't make any promises as to how regular the updates will be. Whenever a chapter is complete - I will post it.
Longer term, I have a number of other plots/ideas in the pipeline - so I like to think this could be the first of many tickling tales I will pen for the community.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback (Please be gentle!), and I hope you all enjoy what follows ... Fletcher.
LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK
Chapter One - Stormy Beginnings
"Thanks for coming round at such short notice Claire," said the pleasant mannered fifty year old, as she closed
the large oak door behind her visitor.
"No problem Janice. I'd just left my last appointment when Fiona called me. She sounded upset - is everything
OK?"
"She's in the living room dear - go on through. Let me take your coat." The silver haired lady offered her
arms out to take the younger woman's long green jacket.
"You're soaking! Can I get you a drink?", she added as she hung the dripping garment carefully on the coat hook
behind the door.
"Ooh. I'd love a cup of tea please!", the smartly dressed financier answered politely, with a familiar smile.
"I'll go and put the kettle on then and join you both in a minute - OK?."
"Thanks Janice. Just go in yeah?"
"Yes my dear, I told Fiona you were on the way."
It was the sort of greeting one might expect to witness on the arrival of a close friend or family member. Yet
Claire Harrington was neither of these things. In reality she was the complete opposite of the sweet, caring,
'butter wouldn't melt' professional she pretended to be. Not only had her investment advice to the sisters
been at best 'questionable', but for the past nine months she had been secretly screwing the ageing spinsters
out of every penny of their not insignificant wealth - all the time posing as such a caring individual that
she had become more like a niece to them than a financial adviser.
"Sit down my dear.", Fiona said as soon as Claire entered the large sitting room. Claire wondered exactly how
Fiona could've been sure it was her, being as she was stood at the far side of the room observing the
torrential rainstorm through the silencing divide of the ornate French windows.
Fiona was a far sterner individual than her younger sibling, and with her tall, slender figure and sculpted
features, she could easily have passed for a woman in her late thirties - a similar age to her guest.
Knowing her client's more austere demeanour, and with Fiona still gazing out onto the dark expanse of the
property's grounds, Claire decided to perch herself on the settee and wait until her host was ready to
acknowledge her fully.
"Still raining I take it?", Fiona finally uttered, turning from the window to face her.
"Just a bit!", Claire laughed, ruffling her fingers through her damp, dirty blonde hair - usually pristinely
coiffed, but at present a little weatherbeaten and wavy.
"Here's your tea dear", interrupted Janice, as she came through from the hall, carrying a steaming china mug.
"A nice cup of tea can work wonders!", she added, smiling, as she handed Claire the drink and sat down beside
her on the settee.
"So what can I do for you two girls?", Claire asked cheekily, taking a large warming gulp of tea and
simultaneously brushing a few isolated rain drops from the front of her silk blouse.
"You can explain THIS!", Fiona shouted abruptly as she strode boldly over to Claire - thrusting a bank
statement into her hand.
"W-what, er, I er don't understand ...", Claire was clearly stunned by the older sister's sudden anger.
"You can explain why the investment fund that should have over £80,000 in it - is EMPTY!" Fiona took a step
back and with arms folded in indignation, took up a position alongside the seated Janice, to await Claire's
response.
Of course Claire knew instantly that she'd been rumbled, but she was far too cocky to waste her time trying to
explain. Instead she decided it was time to drop the pretence. After all, she'd covered her tracks so well,
and the missing money was as good as hers now - legally. She didn't need to keep up the charade of nicety
anymore.
"Well well - I see the dumb-ass sisters have finally woken up then!", her face had transformed to a repugnant
sneer, as she mocked her two victims.
"I'm afraid you signed all control of that account over to me about 6 months ago Fiona! It's true what they
say - You really should read the small print you know!" Claire's true nature was exposed in a stroke. She was
an unscrupulous bitch, who was actually quite enjoying rubbing the sisters' noses in their gullibility,
especially the more erudite Fiona.
"But you always told us that we didn't need to read the small print - we trusted you Claire!", Janice now
spoke, her words tinged with disappointment and distress.
"Well - I suppose it was a bit unethical of me!, Claire sniggered like a child caught being naughty. "And what
do you think you can do about it now anyway!?"
"Oh - we've already done it my dear ...", Fiona said, staring malevolently at Claire.
"Done what!?", Claire scoffed dismissively, "Called the police? I'm afraid there's absolutely nothing illegal
for them to investigate - I have all the signatures to prove it!" The level of arrogance the young banker was
displaying was now truly shocking.
She was surprised however, that her stinging words prompted no reaction from either Janice or Fiona -
instead they both remained strangely unmoved.
"Oh no - we haven't gone to the Police dear", Fiona said in an ominous monotone.
"You could say we've done something a little more 'unethical'!", the more timid Janice added causing both
sisters to break into hearty, cackling laughter.
"Did you enjoy your tea dear?", Fiona asked - her expression now dominated by a wry, wicked smile.
Despite her obvious moral failings, there could be no denying that Claire was smart - extremely smart, and it
didn't take more than a couple of seconds for the pieces to begin to come together in her head. She said
nothing - her mouth momentarily paralysed as her brain frantically analysed the facts, trying to take stock of
her situation.
It was at that moment, as the shocking realisation dawned - that she had been drugged - that the knock-out
mixture began to have its effect. An incomprehensible jumble of half-words spilled from her lips, as she tried
to speak, and on registering the disconnect between her intended words and the slurred nonsense that resulted,
a primal part of her brain knew in an instant the full extent of the danger she was in. Instinctively she
tried to stand and flee. She jolted up from the settee in panic. The empty mug was flung from her lap onto
the solid mahogany coffee table, breaking into several pieces before sliding off the other side onto the
fireside rug. Neither the sound of the smashing porcelain, or the violent movements of their guest had the
slightest effect on the sisters, who appeared totally calm as their diabolical scheme unfolded before them.
The tall banker appeared almost like a young foal learning to stand for the first time, as she steadied her
balance, and managed a few wobbly steps, despite the height of her heels. Quickly, however, the drug took over - her legs finally collapsing beneath her, leaving her in a crumpled heap on the carpet.
Her long limbs and joints poked out in all directions, bounded only by the edge of a nearby bureau against which her left wrist propped awkwardly, and the restrictive nature of her pencil skirt, which kept her knees pinched together, while her calves splayed out at bizarre angles. The pointed toe of one of her shoes dug into the thick carpet pile twisting her leg unnaturally, making it resemble a gnarled branch protruding from the surface of a lake.
Momentarily she remained conscious - her body now completely numb - just long enough to see the faces of her two captors appear directly above her, peering quizzically, to see if the potent sedative had fully done its job. Seconds later, the faces and the room around them finally began to spin - growing faster and faster, dimmer and dimmer - into a total swirl of darkness.
This is the first chapter of a multi-part piece of tickling fiction I am working on. I am planning on developing it into quite a substantial work, so I would ask you to bear with the lack of actual tickling early on, as I hope the finished story will be well worth the scene setting.
I intend to post subsequent parts as an when they are complete, (Like a serial), but as I have to fit writing around my day job, I won't make any promises as to how regular the updates will be. Whenever a chapter is complete - I will post it.
Longer term, I have a number of other plots/ideas in the pipeline - so I like to think this could be the first of many tickling tales I will pen for the community.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback (Please be gentle!), and I hope you all enjoy what follows ... Fletcher.
LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK
Chapter One - Stormy Beginnings
"Thanks for coming round at such short notice Claire," said the pleasant mannered fifty year old, as she closed
the large oak door behind her visitor.
"No problem Janice. I'd just left my last appointment when Fiona called me. She sounded upset - is everything
OK?"
"She's in the living room dear - go on through. Let me take your coat." The silver haired lady offered her
arms out to take the younger woman's long green jacket.
"You're soaking! Can I get you a drink?", she added as she hung the dripping garment carefully on the coat hook
behind the door.
"Ooh. I'd love a cup of tea please!", the smartly dressed financier answered politely, with a familiar smile.
"I'll go and put the kettle on then and join you both in a minute - OK?."
"Thanks Janice. Just go in yeah?"
"Yes my dear, I told Fiona you were on the way."
It was the sort of greeting one might expect to witness on the arrival of a close friend or family member. Yet
Claire Harrington was neither of these things. In reality she was the complete opposite of the sweet, caring,
'butter wouldn't melt' professional she pretended to be. Not only had her investment advice to the sisters
been at best 'questionable', but for the past nine months she had been secretly screwing the ageing spinsters
out of every penny of their not insignificant wealth - all the time posing as such a caring individual that
she had become more like a niece to them than a financial adviser.
"Sit down my dear.", Fiona said as soon as Claire entered the large sitting room. Claire wondered exactly how
Fiona could've been sure it was her, being as she was stood at the far side of the room observing the
torrential rainstorm through the silencing divide of the ornate French windows.
Fiona was a far sterner individual than her younger sibling, and with her tall, slender figure and sculpted
features, she could easily have passed for a woman in her late thirties - a similar age to her guest.
Knowing her client's more austere demeanour, and with Fiona still gazing out onto the dark expanse of the
property's grounds, Claire decided to perch herself on the settee and wait until her host was ready to
acknowledge her fully.
"Still raining I take it?", Fiona finally uttered, turning from the window to face her.
"Just a bit!", Claire laughed, ruffling her fingers through her damp, dirty blonde hair - usually pristinely
coiffed, but at present a little weatherbeaten and wavy.
"Here's your tea dear", interrupted Janice, as she came through from the hall, carrying a steaming china mug.
"A nice cup of tea can work wonders!", she added, smiling, as she handed Claire the drink and sat down beside
her on the settee.
"So what can I do for you two girls?", Claire asked cheekily, taking a large warming gulp of tea and
simultaneously brushing a few isolated rain drops from the front of her silk blouse.
"You can explain THIS!", Fiona shouted abruptly as she strode boldly over to Claire - thrusting a bank
statement into her hand.
"W-what, er, I er don't understand ...", Claire was clearly stunned by the older sister's sudden anger.
"You can explain why the investment fund that should have over £80,000 in it - is EMPTY!" Fiona took a step
back and with arms folded in indignation, took up a position alongside the seated Janice, to await Claire's
response.
Of course Claire knew instantly that she'd been rumbled, but she was far too cocky to waste her time trying to
explain. Instead she decided it was time to drop the pretence. After all, she'd covered her tracks so well,
and the missing money was as good as hers now - legally. She didn't need to keep up the charade of nicety
anymore.
"Well well - I see the dumb-ass sisters have finally woken up then!", her face had transformed to a repugnant
sneer, as she mocked her two victims.
"I'm afraid you signed all control of that account over to me about 6 months ago Fiona! It's true what they
say - You really should read the small print you know!" Claire's true nature was exposed in a stroke. She was
an unscrupulous bitch, who was actually quite enjoying rubbing the sisters' noses in their gullibility,
especially the more erudite Fiona.
"But you always told us that we didn't need to read the small print - we trusted you Claire!", Janice now
spoke, her words tinged with disappointment and distress.
"Well - I suppose it was a bit unethical of me!, Claire sniggered like a child caught being naughty. "And what
do you think you can do about it now anyway!?"
"Oh - we've already done it my dear ...", Fiona said, staring malevolently at Claire.
"Done what!?", Claire scoffed dismissively, "Called the police? I'm afraid there's absolutely nothing illegal
for them to investigate - I have all the signatures to prove it!" The level of arrogance the young banker was
displaying was now truly shocking.
She was surprised however, that her stinging words prompted no reaction from either Janice or Fiona -
instead they both remained strangely unmoved.
"Oh no - we haven't gone to the Police dear", Fiona said in an ominous monotone.
"You could say we've done something a little more 'unethical'!", the more timid Janice added causing both
sisters to break into hearty, cackling laughter.
"Did you enjoy your tea dear?", Fiona asked - her expression now dominated by a wry, wicked smile.
Despite her obvious moral failings, there could be no denying that Claire was smart - extremely smart, and it
didn't take more than a couple of seconds for the pieces to begin to come together in her head. She said
nothing - her mouth momentarily paralysed as her brain frantically analysed the facts, trying to take stock of
her situation.
It was at that moment, as the shocking realisation dawned - that she had been drugged - that the knock-out
mixture began to have its effect. An incomprehensible jumble of half-words spilled from her lips, as she tried
to speak, and on registering the disconnect between her intended words and the slurred nonsense that resulted,
a primal part of her brain knew in an instant the full extent of the danger she was in. Instinctively she
tried to stand and flee. She jolted up from the settee in panic. The empty mug was flung from her lap onto
the solid mahogany coffee table, breaking into several pieces before sliding off the other side onto the
fireside rug. Neither the sound of the smashing porcelain, or the violent movements of their guest had the
slightest effect on the sisters, who appeared totally calm as their diabolical scheme unfolded before them.
The tall banker appeared almost like a young foal learning to stand for the first time, as she steadied her
balance, and managed a few wobbly steps, despite the height of her heels. Quickly, however, the drug took over - her legs finally collapsing beneath her, leaving her in a crumpled heap on the carpet.
Her long limbs and joints poked out in all directions, bounded only by the edge of a nearby bureau against which her left wrist propped awkwardly, and the restrictive nature of her pencil skirt, which kept her knees pinched together, while her calves splayed out at bizarre angles. The pointed toe of one of her shoes dug into the thick carpet pile twisting her leg unnaturally, making it resemble a gnarled branch protruding from the surface of a lake.
Momentarily she remained conscious - her body now completely numb - just long enough to see the faces of her two captors appear directly above her, peering quizzically, to see if the potent sedative had fully done its job. Seconds later, the faces and the room around them finally began to spin - growing faster and faster, dimmer and dimmer - into a total swirl of darkness.
