YouNeverKnow175
TMF Master
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2002
- Messages
- 810
- Points
- 18
She could barely take it anymore.
When she saw Olivia leaving the boss’s office, smiling and laughing, she just about snapped. Olivia had been with the architecture firm just two years and was quickly rising through the firm—the cute strawberry blonde, freckled, baby-blue-eyed, slender, five-foot-nine twenty-seven-year-old who everybody adored. Georgia had been with the company for four years and had gone nowhere. She was respected, at least it seemed to her, by her boss and peers, but she was never the darling of the office.
In fact, Georgia had never been the darling of anywhere. Since Olivia had joined the firm, she felt like she was back in high school and college. Everywhere she went, it seemed, there were cute, smart, confident, sexy, bubbly girls who always got their way, who all the guys had crushes on and who the teachers, professors, and supervisors all saw as their little prodigy. Georgia had never been that girl and never would be. She was dedicated, hard-working, and professional. But she was average-looking—boring looking, she thought—with her dorky glasses and brown curly hair that she always wore up and her slightly curvy body of average height that never felt particularly sexy to her. She didn’t understand why all that wasn’t enough—and why the cute strawberry-blondes always won.
There was a lot about Olivia that got on her nerves, but for some reason the way she played with her shoes under her desk seemed to take the cake. Every time Olivia walked by—and she had to a lot, because Olivia’s desk was on the route from her own to the bathroom, kitchen, elevator and everywhere else—Olivia had her shoes either off or half-off, shuffling her feet in and out of her silver flats, or dangling one shoe from her foot with her leg crossed. It was so unprofessional, Georgia thought, and got under her skin every time. Georgia had been taught to dress professionally and conservatively at work, and that included keeping your shoes on at the office. Sure, she was only twenty-nine, but she had an old-school mentality about professionalism that she took pride in. She scoffed at Olivia’s hip jeans, her occasionally just-on-the-edge-of-too-short skirts and, above all, the days she wore those silver flats without socks or nylons and constantly had her feet out of them.
This particularly evening proceeded as many did at the firm: with Olivia and Georgia as the only two left in the office—Georgia waiting because she refused to let Olivia get the better of her and clock out last. She was going to work her way up in this firm if it were the last thing she did, and Olivia was not going to stand in her way. On her way to the bathroom, Georgia noticed Olivia’s silver flats empty on the ground by her desk, her right foot tucked under her left leg in her chair with the bottom of her foot facing out, and her left foot resting on the base of her rolling chair. Ugh, Georgia thought. While in the bathroom, she had an idea.
As she walked past Olivia’s desk, she quietly and swiftly reached down and grabbed both of her shoes, then continued back to her desk unnoticed. Olivia had headphones in both ears as she sat at her computer, working on a floor plan.
About fifteen minutes later, Olivia brought her right foot down to the floor and felt around instinctively for her shoe. When she couldn’t find it, she put the other foot on the ground and felt around with both feet. Perplexed, she took her headphones out of her ears and looked down around her desk. No shoes. She looked around again, to the edges of the desk next to hers, starting to feel anxious. How could her shoes have disappeared? Where could they have gone? What was she going to do? She didn’t have any others with her.
“Whatcha looking for?” Georgia called out not-so-innocently.
“Um,” Olivia stammered, “my…um….shoes….I can’t find them…”
“Oh, really?” Georgia played dumb. “But…how could you lose your shoes? Did they fall off your feet?”
Georgia walked a fine line with Olivia, and most other people in her life. She was often sarcastic—her way of expressing her bitterness and resentment—but never outright mean. She certainly had never wanted Olivia—or anyone else—to know how envious she was of her; that would give Olivia even more power over her than she already had. So she’d always been generally pleasant with her secret rival, in her own way. And that is why Olivia had no idea that Georgia was mocking her lack of professionalism in her questioning, much less that she had been the one to take her shoes.
“I, um….no, I took them off….” Olivia replied distractedly, still looking around on the floor.
“Ohhh, I see,” replied Georgia. “Gettin’ pretty casual around here, are we?” She said it with a smile, and when Olivia looked at her to see if she was being genuinely snide, Georgia winked and said, “Just teasing you.”
Olivia faked a frazzled smile and knelt down on the ground under her desk, her feet flat on the ground and her soles facing upward. Even her feet are perfect, Georgia thought, annoyed. Why did they have to be so pink, so smooth, so slender, so long? Why did her toes have to be so flawless and long and painted red and foot-model-like? Why were her own feet so unimpressive and her toes slightly stubby?
Georgia picked up the shoes from under her own desk and clapped them together. Olivia looked up. “Look what I found!” Georgia said, feigning excitement.
“What?” Olivia was befuddled. “How did they get over—“ She paused. “You took them!”
“Me!? No!” Georgia said, again sounding too innocent to be telling the truth.
“Yes!” she said. “They couldn’t have gotten all the way over there on their own! Give them back!”
A light bulb lit up over Georgia’s mind. “First let me show you my new building sketch. Then I’ll give them back.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Come over here.”
Olivia rolled her chair across the row of desks to the end where Georgia’s was. “It’s something new you’ve been working on?”
“Yes,” Georgia said. “A new idea.”
“Cool, where is it?”
“Give me your foot,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m going to sketch it for you on your foot.”
“What?” Olivia repeated.
“I’m out of paper.”
“Come on, you’re not out of paper.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your foot.” She patted her own lap and gestured for Olivia to place her foot there.
“Georgia, I don’t think having the bottom of my foot drawn on would be, um…fun…”
Another light bulb illuminated, this one even bigger. Georgia was a twisted girl, and she’d longed to find some way to somehow cut Olivia down to size. The idea of drawing on her foot was a spontaneous gesture of defilement, that somehow popped into her mind when she saw those flawless pink soles facing her on the floor. Somehow she loved the idea of messing them up. But Olivia’s nervous response to the idea of having her foot drawn on had just opened up a whole new door.
“Come on!” Georgia laughed genuinely. “How could that not be fun?”
Olivia squirmed in her seat. “I just think it would be….uncomfortable….”
“Well that’s your ticket to getting your shoes back,” Georgia shrugged.
“Come on, what are we, in middle school?” Olivia rolled her eyes.
“I’m just playing a game, trying to bond with my colleague, and my colleague doesn’t want to play. So much or camaraderie in the workplace…” Olivia turned back to her desk and pretended to go back to working.
Olivia sighed. “Fine. Do your drawing.” She lifted her left foot and placed it in Georgia’s lap.
A wicked grin formed on Georgia’s face. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” she said. Georgia took a ball-point pen from her desk, pulled the cap off, and brought it toward Olivia’s foot. Olivia winced at the sight.
The wince turned into lip-biting as the pen touched the ball of her foot. As Georgia drew a line downward across Olivia’s arch, Olivia let out a shriek and pulled her foot away.
“Excuse me,” Georgia said, pretending to be offended. “I was trying to show you my work.”
“Come on, Georgia,” Olivia said nervously. “Just draw it on a piece of paper for me. Trust me, it'll be a lot easier…”
"And why's that?” '
“The paper won’t wiggle around while you try to draw…”
“And you will?”
“Yes! Of course I will!”
“Why of course?” She wanted to hear her admit her weakness. Finally she knew she had one.
“Because it’s sensitive! You’re drawing on the bottom of my foot with a pen!”
“Too tender to take it?” she teased.
“Come on, Georgia…”
“I’m sure walking home barefoot won’t be too bad. It’ll toughen up your feet, that’s for sure…sounds like they need it.”
Growing increasingly frustrated, Olivia shook her head and put her foot back in Georgia’s lap.
“Thank you,” Georgia said indignantly. She began drawing what was the roof of the building across the ball of Olivia’s foot, arching toward her toes. Olivia bit her lip again, then closed her eyes and gripped the arms of her chair tightly, then burst out giggling, trying to hold her foot still. “Do I need to hold your foot in place?” Georgia asked with the impatience of a salon nail technician who had seen one too many squirming eighteen-year-old girls that day.
Olivia nodded through her giggles, resigned to the fact that she was just going to have to get through this in order for this stupid game to end and for Georgia to give her back her shoes. Georgia wrapped her left arm around Olivia’s ankle and leaned in to continue drawing. She made sure her “rooftop” extended right to the base of Olivia’s toes.
When the pen got there, Olivia’s giggles turned to a screeching, “Nooo!!” and she scrunched her toes tightly. Intuitively, just as Olivia’s toes clamped down, Georgia inserted the tip of the pen underneath them and began wiggling it around.
“Noooo!!!!” Olivia laughed and screamed. “Pull it out!! Pull it out!!!!!!”
“I can’t, honey—you’re clamping down too hard. Why would you do something so silly?”
Her laughter became girlish, panicky, helpless. “It tickles too much!!!” she cried out.
Georgia loved hearing her say it, finally. “Unclamp your toes, then…”
Olivia tried, but her reflexive response to keep them scrunched was too strong. Her body told her it tickled too much to allow the underside of her toes to be totally exposed and unprotected. “I caaannn’t!!!” she laughed in a whiney tone. “Stop wiggling the pen!!!”
“I’m just trying to pull it out!” Georgia said with that wicked smile, wiggling it more.
Olivia flailed in her chair, holding on to the arms so she wouldn’t fall over. Her laughter grew wild and out of control. She tried to get out some words: “GeorggggiaREALLY!! St-STAHHH-hahaaaaaa-P wiggling the PPEEEENNNNN!!!!! It tickles like CRRRRAAAAZZZYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEHHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!”
Georgia was loving this. Little Miss Confidence, Little Miss Office Big Shot was helplessly at her mercy. She wanted to say something like that, but held back. Instead she said, “The only way I can pull it out is by wiggling it if you keep your toes so tightly clenched!” It obviously wasn’t true; she could have easily pulled it out if she’d wanted to. She wiggled the pen all around, surely drawing lines across the bottoms of at least Olivia’s middle three toes, if not all five.
Olivia’s laughter became hysterical and almost silent as she thrust her head back. She cried out desperately, “STOPP!!!!!” and then pulled her foot away so hard that she broke through Georgia’s grip, propelling her chair backward halfway across the row of desks toward her own.
“Well, jeez,” said Georgia. “You don’t need to make such a scene, you know…”
“It tickled!” Olivia said in a pouty tone. “I couldn’t help it!”
“Fine, now let me finish my drawing,” Georgia said dryly.
“What?!” Olivia sounded shocked. “No! That was plenty, thank you!”
“Well, that attitude’s not going to get you back your shoes…”
“Oh my god, would you cut it out?” Olivia said, fed up. “Give me back my shoes!”
“I’m almost done. It’ll take ten seconds. I can’t leave a building sketch half-done—it would reflect poorly upon my work.”
Olivia sighed again, but as an architect she knew that it was true, crazy as it sounded. She rolled her chair back to Georgia and lifted her leg again, placing her foot in Georgia’s lap.
“Such lovely nails,” Georgia commented, half-facetiously. “Where did you get them done?”
“The salon on the corner of Woods and Main,” Olivia replied suspiciously, not sure if Georgia had really meant the complement.
“I can’t imagine pedicures are very easy for you to take…” Georgia commented, almost under her breath.
Olivia blushed. She always felt embarrassed at the salon at how much she squirmed and how girlishly she giggled. It wasn’t something that she particularly wanted her colleagues to know about. “Maybe…” was all she could say.
“I’d love to see that,” Georgia said with a twinkle in her eye. “If one little pen sends you into such a frenzy…”
“One little pen??” Olivia retorted defensively. “I don’t see how anyone could handle someone drawing on the bottom of their foot!”
“Maybe,” Georgia said, wanting to milk this for all she could and humble the office princess, “but you’re clearly more ticklish than most people…”
Olivia felt shy and and self-conscious. She didn’t particularly like having that weakness and definitely didn’t like people knowing about it. Especially someone she wasn’t even that close with….and didn’t particularly trust.
“Most people are ticklish…” she replied, realizing as the words came out that they didn’t sound very convincing or bolster her argument in any way. “That’s true,” said Georgia. “But you…you are very, very ticklish…” She fluttered her fingertips on Olivia’s sole. Olivia gasped and flexed her foot but Georgia had already taken her holding position again so she couldn’t move it away.
“Just finish your drawing, would you please?” It came off more like begging than Olivia had wanted it to.
“Why so eager to stop our bonding session?” Georgia teased, again stroking the bottom of Olivia’s foot up and down with her fingertips.
Olivia bucked and unexpectedly cackled. She never knew what kinds of sounds were going to come out of her when she was tickled, which is one of the (many) things she didn’t like about it: she always felt so unladylike when a cackle like that, or worse, a snort, came out. And when she flailed uncontrollably, too—she felt like a little kid, not the beautiful young lady that she was.
Which was precisely what Georgia was loving about tickling her. And Georgia couldn’t really hold back expressing that in some way anymore, so she said, “Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…this is so FUN to know about you! You’re so poised around here every day, no one would ever know about this secret little weakness of yours! I’m so glad to see a different side of you…”
Olivia curled one corner of her mouth upward awkwardly. “Um…yeah…no one has to know about that, okay…”
“Oh, of course, of course….our little secret,” she winked with a wicked, untrustworthy smile. A bolt of panic shot through Olivia’s body as an image of everyone in the whole office knowing how ticklish she was shot through her mind. She shivered.
“Okay, here we go,” said Georgia, bringing the pen back toward Olivia’s foot. She drew a line downward, completing the other side of the building. Olivia tried hard not to squeal, to prove she wasn’t as ticklish as Georgia was aking her out to be, but couldn’t help herself: “Aayyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeheeheeheeeeeeeeeee!” She trailed off into silent giggles and put her hands over her face.
“My gosh,” Georgia couldn't help returning to the topic again, “Just one line on your feet and you’re a giggling mess! I’m not sure I’ve ever met somebody so ticklish before…”
“You should meet my sister,” Olivia said. “She’s worse.”
“I’d like that,” Georgia said. “I bet she has all kinds of inside info on you, too. All the times your friends ganged up on you and tickled you, and your aunts and uncles tortured you…”
Olivia blushed and shot her a look as if to say, How did you know that? She shivered again and asked, “Are you done?” “Hmm,” Georgia said. “Let me just look over my work and see…as you know, this is a vital part of the process. Oh, yes, a few small adjustments to make…” She took the pen and made several small marks and lines on and around the building she had drawn, holding Olivia’s foot in place with the other hand. Olivia jerked and flinched and broke into giggles and said, “Come oonnnnnnn hahahahahaaaaaaa…enough!! hahahaha REALLY this is too muuuuuuchhhhhh!!!!!!!!”
“Oh and the roof came out terribly,” Georgia said. “All messed up from your gripping and squeezing. I need to make some adjustments up here….” She placed the tip of the pen under Olivia’s toes again.
Olivia exploded into laughter and a helpless, “Noooooooooo!!!” at the same time. “Not THERE!!!!” she cried out, hysterical.
She tried hard not to clench her toes but it happened automatically pretty quickly, and again Georgia pretended to be unable to get the pen out. “Gosh, girl,” Georgia said, “you make it so hard to get my work done.” She wiggled the pen and Olivia thrashed in her chair, grabbing the arms and shaking them vigorously in a feeble attempt to gain some kind of control.
“These toes, gosh!” Georgia continued to lay it on thick. “I’m amazed you’re even willing to take off your shoes around here and have your feet completely exposed, being this ticklish…” She pulled the pen out. Olivia breathed heavily, looking exhausted. “I mean…” Georgia said with feigned, yet on some level genuine amazement, “…isn’t that kind of risky?”
Olivia, obviously, had never thought of it that way, but she certainly realized now that Georgia was right. “I-I-I hadn’t thought of that…” she stammered.
“Such lovely feet, though,” Georgia said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to show them off. What size? Nine?”
“Nine-and-a-half,” Olivia said, wiggling her toes self-consciously.
Georgia released her grip. Olivia pulled her foot away.
“Here you go,” Georgia handed Olivia her shoes back.
Olivia quickly put them on.
“Aren’t you going to look at my work?” Georgia feigned astonishment.
“I’ll look when I get home,” she said, almost adding but not, “I don’t want to be barefoot anymore.”
She quickly gathered her things together and scampered out the door, flustered.
Georgia sat at her desk, feeling a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t had for a long time. She clocked out knowing she was not only the last one out of the office, but had discovered her rival’s biggest weakness. She spent the bus ride home letting her imagination run wild. This was going to be fun.
When she saw Olivia leaving the boss’s office, smiling and laughing, she just about snapped. Olivia had been with the architecture firm just two years and was quickly rising through the firm—the cute strawberry blonde, freckled, baby-blue-eyed, slender, five-foot-nine twenty-seven-year-old who everybody adored. Georgia had been with the company for four years and had gone nowhere. She was respected, at least it seemed to her, by her boss and peers, but she was never the darling of the office.
In fact, Georgia had never been the darling of anywhere. Since Olivia had joined the firm, she felt like she was back in high school and college. Everywhere she went, it seemed, there were cute, smart, confident, sexy, bubbly girls who always got their way, who all the guys had crushes on and who the teachers, professors, and supervisors all saw as their little prodigy. Georgia had never been that girl and never would be. She was dedicated, hard-working, and professional. But she was average-looking—boring looking, she thought—with her dorky glasses and brown curly hair that she always wore up and her slightly curvy body of average height that never felt particularly sexy to her. She didn’t understand why all that wasn’t enough—and why the cute strawberry-blondes always won.
There was a lot about Olivia that got on her nerves, but for some reason the way she played with her shoes under her desk seemed to take the cake. Every time Olivia walked by—and she had to a lot, because Olivia’s desk was on the route from her own to the bathroom, kitchen, elevator and everywhere else—Olivia had her shoes either off or half-off, shuffling her feet in and out of her silver flats, or dangling one shoe from her foot with her leg crossed. It was so unprofessional, Georgia thought, and got under her skin every time. Georgia had been taught to dress professionally and conservatively at work, and that included keeping your shoes on at the office. Sure, she was only twenty-nine, but she had an old-school mentality about professionalism that she took pride in. She scoffed at Olivia’s hip jeans, her occasionally just-on-the-edge-of-too-short skirts and, above all, the days she wore those silver flats without socks or nylons and constantly had her feet out of them.
This particularly evening proceeded as many did at the firm: with Olivia and Georgia as the only two left in the office—Georgia waiting because she refused to let Olivia get the better of her and clock out last. She was going to work her way up in this firm if it were the last thing she did, and Olivia was not going to stand in her way. On her way to the bathroom, Georgia noticed Olivia’s silver flats empty on the ground by her desk, her right foot tucked under her left leg in her chair with the bottom of her foot facing out, and her left foot resting on the base of her rolling chair. Ugh, Georgia thought. While in the bathroom, she had an idea.
As she walked past Olivia’s desk, she quietly and swiftly reached down and grabbed both of her shoes, then continued back to her desk unnoticed. Olivia had headphones in both ears as she sat at her computer, working on a floor plan.
About fifteen minutes later, Olivia brought her right foot down to the floor and felt around instinctively for her shoe. When she couldn’t find it, she put the other foot on the ground and felt around with both feet. Perplexed, she took her headphones out of her ears and looked down around her desk. No shoes. She looked around again, to the edges of the desk next to hers, starting to feel anxious. How could her shoes have disappeared? Where could they have gone? What was she going to do? She didn’t have any others with her.
“Whatcha looking for?” Georgia called out not-so-innocently.
“Um,” Olivia stammered, “my…um….shoes….I can’t find them…”
“Oh, really?” Georgia played dumb. “But…how could you lose your shoes? Did they fall off your feet?”
Georgia walked a fine line with Olivia, and most other people in her life. She was often sarcastic—her way of expressing her bitterness and resentment—but never outright mean. She certainly had never wanted Olivia—or anyone else—to know how envious she was of her; that would give Olivia even more power over her than she already had. So she’d always been generally pleasant with her secret rival, in her own way. And that is why Olivia had no idea that Georgia was mocking her lack of professionalism in her questioning, much less that she had been the one to take her shoes.
“I, um….no, I took them off….” Olivia replied distractedly, still looking around on the floor.
“Ohhh, I see,” replied Georgia. “Gettin’ pretty casual around here, are we?” She said it with a smile, and when Olivia looked at her to see if she was being genuinely snide, Georgia winked and said, “Just teasing you.”
Olivia faked a frazzled smile and knelt down on the ground under her desk, her feet flat on the ground and her soles facing upward. Even her feet are perfect, Georgia thought, annoyed. Why did they have to be so pink, so smooth, so slender, so long? Why did her toes have to be so flawless and long and painted red and foot-model-like? Why were her own feet so unimpressive and her toes slightly stubby?
Georgia picked up the shoes from under her own desk and clapped them together. Olivia looked up. “Look what I found!” Georgia said, feigning excitement.
“What?” Olivia was befuddled. “How did they get over—“ She paused. “You took them!”
“Me!? No!” Georgia said, again sounding too innocent to be telling the truth.
“Yes!” she said. “They couldn’t have gotten all the way over there on their own! Give them back!”
A light bulb lit up over Georgia’s mind. “First let me show you my new building sketch. Then I’ll give them back.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Come over here.”
Olivia rolled her chair across the row of desks to the end where Georgia’s was. “It’s something new you’ve been working on?”
“Yes,” Georgia said. “A new idea.”
“Cool, where is it?”
“Give me your foot,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m going to sketch it for you on your foot.”
“What?” Olivia repeated.
“I’m out of paper.”
“Come on, you’re not out of paper.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your foot.” She patted her own lap and gestured for Olivia to place her foot there.
“Georgia, I don’t think having the bottom of my foot drawn on would be, um…fun…”
Another light bulb illuminated, this one even bigger. Georgia was a twisted girl, and she’d longed to find some way to somehow cut Olivia down to size. The idea of drawing on her foot was a spontaneous gesture of defilement, that somehow popped into her mind when she saw those flawless pink soles facing her on the floor. Somehow she loved the idea of messing them up. But Olivia’s nervous response to the idea of having her foot drawn on had just opened up a whole new door.
“Come on!” Georgia laughed genuinely. “How could that not be fun?”
Olivia squirmed in her seat. “I just think it would be….uncomfortable….”
“Well that’s your ticket to getting your shoes back,” Georgia shrugged.
“Come on, what are we, in middle school?” Olivia rolled her eyes.
“I’m just playing a game, trying to bond with my colleague, and my colleague doesn’t want to play. So much or camaraderie in the workplace…” Olivia turned back to her desk and pretended to go back to working.
Olivia sighed. “Fine. Do your drawing.” She lifted her left foot and placed it in Georgia’s lap.
A wicked grin formed on Georgia’s face. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” she said. Georgia took a ball-point pen from her desk, pulled the cap off, and brought it toward Olivia’s foot. Olivia winced at the sight.
The wince turned into lip-biting as the pen touched the ball of her foot. As Georgia drew a line downward across Olivia’s arch, Olivia let out a shriek and pulled her foot away.
“Excuse me,” Georgia said, pretending to be offended. “I was trying to show you my work.”
“Come on, Georgia,” Olivia said nervously. “Just draw it on a piece of paper for me. Trust me, it'll be a lot easier…”
"And why's that?” '
“The paper won’t wiggle around while you try to draw…”
“And you will?”
“Yes! Of course I will!”
“Why of course?” She wanted to hear her admit her weakness. Finally she knew she had one.
“Because it’s sensitive! You’re drawing on the bottom of my foot with a pen!”
“Too tender to take it?” she teased.
“Come on, Georgia…”
“I’m sure walking home barefoot won’t be too bad. It’ll toughen up your feet, that’s for sure…sounds like they need it.”
Growing increasingly frustrated, Olivia shook her head and put her foot back in Georgia’s lap.
“Thank you,” Georgia said indignantly. She began drawing what was the roof of the building across the ball of Olivia’s foot, arching toward her toes. Olivia bit her lip again, then closed her eyes and gripped the arms of her chair tightly, then burst out giggling, trying to hold her foot still. “Do I need to hold your foot in place?” Georgia asked with the impatience of a salon nail technician who had seen one too many squirming eighteen-year-old girls that day.
Olivia nodded through her giggles, resigned to the fact that she was just going to have to get through this in order for this stupid game to end and for Georgia to give her back her shoes. Georgia wrapped her left arm around Olivia’s ankle and leaned in to continue drawing. She made sure her “rooftop” extended right to the base of Olivia’s toes.
When the pen got there, Olivia’s giggles turned to a screeching, “Nooo!!” and she scrunched her toes tightly. Intuitively, just as Olivia’s toes clamped down, Georgia inserted the tip of the pen underneath them and began wiggling it around.
“Noooo!!!!” Olivia laughed and screamed. “Pull it out!! Pull it out!!!!!!”
“I can’t, honey—you’re clamping down too hard. Why would you do something so silly?”
Her laughter became girlish, panicky, helpless. “It tickles too much!!!” she cried out.
Georgia loved hearing her say it, finally. “Unclamp your toes, then…”
Olivia tried, but her reflexive response to keep them scrunched was too strong. Her body told her it tickled too much to allow the underside of her toes to be totally exposed and unprotected. “I caaannn’t!!!” she laughed in a whiney tone. “Stop wiggling the pen!!!”
“I’m just trying to pull it out!” Georgia said with that wicked smile, wiggling it more.
Olivia flailed in her chair, holding on to the arms so she wouldn’t fall over. Her laughter grew wild and out of control. She tried to get out some words: “GeorggggiaREALLY!! St-STAHHH-hahaaaaaa-P wiggling the PPEEEENNNNN!!!!! It tickles like CRRRRAAAAZZZYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEHHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!”
Georgia was loving this. Little Miss Confidence, Little Miss Office Big Shot was helplessly at her mercy. She wanted to say something like that, but held back. Instead she said, “The only way I can pull it out is by wiggling it if you keep your toes so tightly clenched!” It obviously wasn’t true; she could have easily pulled it out if she’d wanted to. She wiggled the pen all around, surely drawing lines across the bottoms of at least Olivia’s middle three toes, if not all five.
Olivia’s laughter became hysterical and almost silent as she thrust her head back. She cried out desperately, “STOPP!!!!!” and then pulled her foot away so hard that she broke through Georgia’s grip, propelling her chair backward halfway across the row of desks toward her own.
“Well, jeez,” said Georgia. “You don’t need to make such a scene, you know…”
“It tickled!” Olivia said in a pouty tone. “I couldn’t help it!”
“Fine, now let me finish my drawing,” Georgia said dryly.
“What?!” Olivia sounded shocked. “No! That was plenty, thank you!”
“Well, that attitude’s not going to get you back your shoes…”
“Oh my god, would you cut it out?” Olivia said, fed up. “Give me back my shoes!”
“I’m almost done. It’ll take ten seconds. I can’t leave a building sketch half-done—it would reflect poorly upon my work.”
Olivia sighed again, but as an architect she knew that it was true, crazy as it sounded. She rolled her chair back to Georgia and lifted her leg again, placing her foot in Georgia’s lap.
“Such lovely nails,” Georgia commented, half-facetiously. “Where did you get them done?”
“The salon on the corner of Woods and Main,” Olivia replied suspiciously, not sure if Georgia had really meant the complement.
“I can’t imagine pedicures are very easy for you to take…” Georgia commented, almost under her breath.
Olivia blushed. She always felt embarrassed at the salon at how much she squirmed and how girlishly she giggled. It wasn’t something that she particularly wanted her colleagues to know about. “Maybe…” was all she could say.
“I’d love to see that,” Georgia said with a twinkle in her eye. “If one little pen sends you into such a frenzy…”
“One little pen??” Olivia retorted defensively. “I don’t see how anyone could handle someone drawing on the bottom of their foot!”
“Maybe,” Georgia said, wanting to milk this for all she could and humble the office princess, “but you’re clearly more ticklish than most people…”
Olivia felt shy and and self-conscious. She didn’t particularly like having that weakness and definitely didn’t like people knowing about it. Especially someone she wasn’t even that close with….and didn’t particularly trust.
“Most people are ticklish…” she replied, realizing as the words came out that they didn’t sound very convincing or bolster her argument in any way. “That’s true,” said Georgia. “But you…you are very, very ticklish…” She fluttered her fingertips on Olivia’s sole. Olivia gasped and flexed her foot but Georgia had already taken her holding position again so she couldn’t move it away.
“Just finish your drawing, would you please?” It came off more like begging than Olivia had wanted it to.
“Why so eager to stop our bonding session?” Georgia teased, again stroking the bottom of Olivia’s foot up and down with her fingertips.
Olivia bucked and unexpectedly cackled. She never knew what kinds of sounds were going to come out of her when she was tickled, which is one of the (many) things she didn’t like about it: she always felt so unladylike when a cackle like that, or worse, a snort, came out. And when she flailed uncontrollably, too—she felt like a little kid, not the beautiful young lady that she was.
Which was precisely what Georgia was loving about tickling her. And Georgia couldn’t really hold back expressing that in some way anymore, so she said, “Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…this is so FUN to know about you! You’re so poised around here every day, no one would ever know about this secret little weakness of yours! I’m so glad to see a different side of you…”
Olivia curled one corner of her mouth upward awkwardly. “Um…yeah…no one has to know about that, okay…”
“Oh, of course, of course….our little secret,” she winked with a wicked, untrustworthy smile. A bolt of panic shot through Olivia’s body as an image of everyone in the whole office knowing how ticklish she was shot through her mind. She shivered.
“Okay, here we go,” said Georgia, bringing the pen back toward Olivia’s foot. She drew a line downward, completing the other side of the building. Olivia tried hard not to squeal, to prove she wasn’t as ticklish as Georgia was aking her out to be, but couldn’t help herself: “Aayyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeheeheeheeeeeeeeeee!” She trailed off into silent giggles and put her hands over her face.
“My gosh,” Georgia couldn't help returning to the topic again, “Just one line on your feet and you’re a giggling mess! I’m not sure I’ve ever met somebody so ticklish before…”
“You should meet my sister,” Olivia said. “She’s worse.”
“I’d like that,” Georgia said. “I bet she has all kinds of inside info on you, too. All the times your friends ganged up on you and tickled you, and your aunts and uncles tortured you…”
Olivia blushed and shot her a look as if to say, How did you know that? She shivered again and asked, “Are you done?” “Hmm,” Georgia said. “Let me just look over my work and see…as you know, this is a vital part of the process. Oh, yes, a few small adjustments to make…” She took the pen and made several small marks and lines on and around the building she had drawn, holding Olivia’s foot in place with the other hand. Olivia jerked and flinched and broke into giggles and said, “Come oonnnnnnn hahahahahaaaaaaa…enough!! hahahaha REALLY this is too muuuuuuchhhhhh!!!!!!!!”
“Oh and the roof came out terribly,” Georgia said. “All messed up from your gripping and squeezing. I need to make some adjustments up here….” She placed the tip of the pen under Olivia’s toes again.
Olivia exploded into laughter and a helpless, “Noooooooooo!!!” at the same time. “Not THERE!!!!” she cried out, hysterical.
She tried hard not to clench her toes but it happened automatically pretty quickly, and again Georgia pretended to be unable to get the pen out. “Gosh, girl,” Georgia said, “you make it so hard to get my work done.” She wiggled the pen and Olivia thrashed in her chair, grabbing the arms and shaking them vigorously in a feeble attempt to gain some kind of control.
“These toes, gosh!” Georgia continued to lay it on thick. “I’m amazed you’re even willing to take off your shoes around here and have your feet completely exposed, being this ticklish…” She pulled the pen out. Olivia breathed heavily, looking exhausted. “I mean…” Georgia said with feigned, yet on some level genuine amazement, “…isn’t that kind of risky?”
Olivia, obviously, had never thought of it that way, but she certainly realized now that Georgia was right. “I-I-I hadn’t thought of that…” she stammered.
“Such lovely feet, though,” Georgia said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to show them off. What size? Nine?”
“Nine-and-a-half,” Olivia said, wiggling her toes self-consciously.
Georgia released her grip. Olivia pulled her foot away.
“Here you go,” Georgia handed Olivia her shoes back.
Olivia quickly put them on.
“Aren’t you going to look at my work?” Georgia feigned astonishment.
“I’ll look when I get home,” she said, almost adding but not, “I don’t want to be barefoot anymore.”
She quickly gathered her things together and scampered out the door, flustered.
Georgia sat at her desk, feeling a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t had for a long time. She clocked out knowing she was not only the last one out of the office, but had discovered her rival’s biggest weakness. She spent the bus ride home letting her imagination run wild. This was going to be fun.
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