The Jersey Devil
TMF Poster
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- Nov 23, 2010
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HEY GUYS! So... here's another freebie from the Jersey Devil Vault--Jane Doe has been retired... to make room for Jersey Devil Publishing. Exciting!
BUT... I'm hoping to stay, meaning far more fun and savings for you guys, and freebies! This time it's the epic tale of everyone's favorite Resident Badass: Michelle Rodriguez.
Ticklish? No? What's she like behind the scenes? Well... let's follow the life and style of good Ole Fast and Furious herself.
FYI, this is just the first part... there might be as many as two, three, maybe four! Just depends when I decide to stop. Either way, consider this another free tale from good ole Jersey Devil!
(Disclaimer: Fanfiction, no actual facts blah blah blah. You know the scoop. But have fun and enjoy!)
The Ticklish Badass:
Bad-ass extraordinaire to be precise...
...Nah, just kidding. The raise to fame was one thing, but she'd just as much pull her middle finger out of a hat before she came off as the 'violent' type, both to friends or just fans alike. They weren't fans, they were 'her' people... ones she related to, and whom she shared her art with.
Oh, she wouldn't turn a party down if offered... but much of her younger years were long since past. Bad press making things out far worse than they were--or maybe she just needed to chill the fuck out a bit more.
'Don't need to chill, just need to stop being fucking stupid...' of course, that thought came in relation to press from prior events, as even girls like her were the subject of feeling 'self conscious'.
So... what to do?
A dry spell of jobbing (she called it Jobbing anyway) in between left good ole Michelle Rodriguez in a tangent string of adventure-seeking.
Her favorite habit? Same thing that landed her in hot water...
...Luck of chance had good Michelle touring through San Diego at the time, but not a lot of people were aware of flight plans. Despite popular belief, the paparazzi weren't Gods... and Rodriguez knew how to fly under the radar. Current touring plans had her stationed 'technically' in Los Angeles, but a rental car and a few hours of driving later, she only needed to keep her agent informed of her movements as she placed herself in the nearby hole-in-the-wall hotel near the downtown strip, and went walking-distance down the row of clubs.
You guessed it... her favorite habit was surprise parties. Though vastly hitting a point of becoming a household name, Michelle Rodriguez was still relatively low-key in the public eye, and it came from a building reputation that she was as chill as she appeared to be.
She dressed in a pair of white jeans that came down a little past the ankle, and slid into closed-toe sandals before topping off with a white Linkin Park shirt and a light gray hoodie. The hoodie helped... let her tour the downtown streets without many people raising a brow.
"C'mon, gotta be something fun down this way..." She silently brooded, though she wore a bit of a constant smirk upon her lips. The thrill of celebrityism wasn't nothing, not nearly as much as the 'hidden in plain sight' scheme that often had people more shocked than anything once it finally dawned on them who they were partying with, and Michelle just wanted something low key.
It was a little-known thing, her penchant for showing up at parties unannounced, but it was something that always seemed to make sense once it had gone down. Pull back the hood, and there was the inevitable recognition -- someone had always been on a Fast & Furious bender "just the other day."
Then, the party usually continued right along, with renewed spirits. Michelle got to have a little fun, while providing a shot in the arm: a second surge in the excitement level of an affair that had just started to wind down.
That was the usual way that things went down, at least, but tonight she was coming up empty. The strip was a drag; she never went so far as to walk down the darkest alleys, or hit up the worst neighborhoods, but it wasn't exactly the 5th Avenue experience that she was after either. She could usually count on something going on, whatever the hour, wherever she allowed herself to wind up.
"Man, this ain't right." Under her breath, and not without a little bit of a wry grin. "Don't tell me I come all the way out here, only to wind up..."
Her voice trailed off, as that wry grin turned into a broader smile; she could dazzle, when she wanted to, or when she was caught off-guard by an unpleasant surprise. The area wasn't familiar to her, but the sounds of something lively were starting to filter their way in her direction from around the next corner.
She was on what felt like the edge of the neighborhood club scene; in this city, that meant something small (or small-ish) and chummy, people who knew each other having a good time together, with just enough by way of unfamiliar faces for her to blend in for a while.
The music was loud, the refreshment wet -- or dry, however you wanted it. All in all, a good time. The kind of people who weren't expecting anything, but always wound up appreciative of a little unexpected company. She paused when she got to the front door; the bright neon sign and loud dance music were the only indicators of anything special in an otherwise pretty plain brick facade.
"Huh... 'Sebulba.'" Her lips pursed, as she took in the name, before stepping up to the front door. "Sounds interesting" was her last thought before she walked in.
Turns out she found her safe place of refuge after all... The party held at Sebulba was in recognition of a group of friends... or family. There were quite the few Marines in attendance, and despite the alcohol content that was obviously being passed around, the festivities were more or less intended for the good old fashioned...
Another highlight to the liveliness of California: it provided quite a few outdoor parties on the strip. In fact Fifth Avenue was famous for its outdoor raves. Music festivals never seemed to be in short supply.
Michelle made up her mind and shoved the hoodie down off her head, stepping through the front doors which led to one of two dominated areas: the inner club itself had livelier colors than expected... not bright and strobing, but softer, you could actually see the other people around, and never were short hand from someone willing to dance the groove along with you.
That also led to the open patio which sported a few bonfire pits littered about, the furniture and decor matching an outdoor barbecue more or less... and the beats... a fancied up DJ playing all the good old-timey hits like Sweet Home Alabama, and other rock classics that were made just for such an occasion.
She was already grinning from ear to ear... working her way through the crowd in a flurried buzz of cropped, shaved heads, and beautiful women alike, none of which took even a second glance. A nice sway f the hips, a good old grind here and there, and an endless supply of boos that was passed down the aisles like candy, a proverbial conga line. 'See, now this is what we need to have more of' came the passing thought as Michelle cozied up with a nearby couple, eventually turning into a three-way dance that had her waving her arms in the air, already past the point of sober from just the surge of the dance floor alone before she had her first beer of the night.
In fact most of the night went down without a hitch. And on her liveliest of occasions, soon it was like she had slowly started to warp things to become centered about her; people were noticing... her Latin style dance moves, or the succulent rolling of her butt right down to her hips. She even broke into Salsa style moves that had more than one cheering member waning to stand in line and be next.
Same lack of scrutiny; man, woman... didn't matter. She was dizzy with the buzz, apparently finding her corner niche in the scheme of the party. Michelle Rodriguez had found her adventure for the night...
The place was happening, in a way that suggested a secret, like something little-known in a city full of famous clubs and bars. Untold thousands had a fun time every night, but Xibalba gave the impression of something known to only a few, like it could 'happen' at a moment's notice and then go dormant until the next time its regular patrons needed someplace to hang.
Despite the very visible owner, a young, raven-haired woman with a brilliant shock of blue running through her long hair, it almost seemed to have a presence of its own, as if the doors would open of their own accord.
Michelle was having the time of her life, as she so often did... which didn't diminish any one of those times at all. It simply added up to a fun hobby, part of a time in her life that was going exactly the way she wanted it too.
In a way... films aside... this was her way of connecting, and sharing a little with those around her. Within the first couple of hours after arriving, she danced with half of the people there. Men, women, and at least two generations of people well-represented; it didn't matter.
It wasn't a lead-in to anything; just a good time.
"Hey!"
The greeting came suddenly; unanticipated in the moment, but not unexpected overall. People had been cheering; folks had lined up, with no idea who she was, energized by Latin moves at once fluid and sharp -- like a tongue of fire, swaying in loose yet controlled fashion across the floor.
It was a little energetic, over-eager... but you had to be, to be heard over the music. "Hey yourself!" was her response, but there was a grin, visible within the depths of her hoodie, as the two of them moved off to one side to get out of the way of those whom Michelle's energy had kicked into a livelier step. "You lookin' to dance?"
"We already have -- twice." He was grinning, too; from the depths of her hood, she gave him a quick once-over.
Not quite six feet, give or take, but with her five-foot-five stature that suited Michelle just fine. He had a lean body, dressed like he worked out of a home office... like he was trying to match a billboard advertisement for fashionable, casual men's wear. A white tee-shirt, blue jeans, and topped with a short-sleeve, button-down shirt, hanging open. It had a simple checkered pattern, but the lighting made the colors hard to distinguish.
A little boring... but he pulled it off well, and he stood like he was exactly where he needed to be. Far more striking were his eyes, deep, and dark, set in a face with high cheekbones, and topped by a mop of curly black hair. "No worries, though," he was saying; "You've gotten everyone's attention, can't blame you for missing little old me."
He waved to one of the bartenders... and got an immediate response; "two Coronas."
Michelle found herself smiling. There was something she liked about him. "Didn't say I wanted a drink," she quipped, but she was grinning openly, and she let her body speak for her: nothing too forward or untoward. Just a casual lean, the type of thing that only inexperienced frat-boys took too seriously -- but it wasn't to be dismissed out of hand, either.
Just in case there was any doubt, she picked up her beer when it arrived, and took up a resting posture against the bar, next to her admirer. "Guess I could use a break, right?"
He had been friendly, and not too presumptuous; now, he was looking at her, head cocked to one side; "You know..." and there was a speculative tone, straightforward enough; "This... is the 'oldest' line in the book." He plucked the lime wedge out of his bottle and took a sip; "But I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. At least, your voice; I know I've heard it. I don't know, something... familiar?"
Then he laughed, and shook his head. "Nah, ignore that. Damn, y'know how often I've used that, and not meant it? It's just, I dunno..." He let his voice trail off -- to the point of things becoming mildly awkward, but not offensively so. Then, "I'm Bill, by the way... but, please, don't ask my last name."
A little clumsy, but that was in itself kind of charming -- if also quite possibly an act. Michelle gave a small laugh, and took a long pull from her beer. She was still having a good time, and after so many nights spent doing this kind of thing, that said something.
The chemistry didn't bother her--shit, you couldn't really connect with people on any level without some form of chemistry after all--but at the same time, those lines were also part of the small thrill. 'Do I know you?' A guilty pleasure all its own, and usually something that started getting out of control once it was established that yes, yes chances are he has seen her before.
"Michelle," it just rolled off the tongue, extending a simple hand out--the same 'friend zone' hand that was all too knowing in its essence of finality. At least for her. 'If I was looking for a date...'
She didn't allow the thought to go further beyond that, dismissing it before her head was caught too much up in the clouds. She was here to get grounded again, not to elevate the pedestal for her own ego. "Nice to meet yo-"
Mid hand-shake though... she felt the clenching of her own chest just mildly, but he was holding her hand... and staring at her like he saw something past the hoodie she threw back up. "Wait, you're... are..." like some guilty secret he even leaned closer, giving Michelle a small whiff of cologne and perspiration, "Are you Michelle Rodriguez?!" That urgency was something she just couldn't get used to, not in a bad way. Sometimes she didn't believe in her own fame, rather being one down in the trenches and living life than some ivory tower of Celebutants. Oh the parties were more than epic, but also part of a grander show.
She didn't despise it... but she didn't like feeling caught between two worlds.
Her lips frowned almost playfully, a bit of an 'ironic' expression that etched into her brow as she retracted her hand, both then suddenly rising up in a sweeping shrug that embodied the use of both hands. "Guilty." So what now? She was still plotting that.
"You can't tell anyone though. I just wanna have fun; dance a little, drink a little. Call it a day."
Seems the frat boy didn't need convincing... so many questions rolling on through his mind though. Did he ask, did he go total fanboy, or did he just roll with the punches? A wayward glance around the crowd revealed to her that people were only mildly interested right now--mostly from the show she put on earlier. Seems that even at her most drunken, Michelle could still bust a move or two. But it wasn't a huge gathering so much as passing glances themselves.
The only one she had really caught was Bill... not Billy... which earned brownie points. Sounded like a name from one of those teen dramas.
"Well I'm kinda torn... most all of us are friends here, some shipping out soon. I'm here mainly to support a few frat-boys I went to school with who are now Marines." Sure, he was a little pride-driven with the sentiment, and rightfully so. "Final send-off for his troop deployment and it might be some time before we hang again."
"I thought as much from outside. No offense but the haircuts kinda gave it away," she pointed out, noting with no actual displeasure that mostly half of the room was dominated by a crew cut. No shiny, polished uniforms... most everyone here was adorning jeans or shorts, the kind of attire you imagine you'd see for the San Diego night life. Some even a little fancier while engaging in that 'final dance' with the sweetheart.
For a few moments in between drinks, Michelle could see that Bill looked like he was going to crack. Hell it even made her laugh, the nervous way he rubbed at the back of his head, his cheeks occasionally going flush.
"Okay, what is it?"
It wasn't so much a cork popping off a champagne bottle, but Bill let her have it all the same, "Oh you're just killin' me here. I mean... how cool would it be to get some pictures with 'The' Michelle Rodriguez... like, you're a total badass! Don't take this personally, but I think you kinda deserve the recognition. On top of that you're--"
She held up a hand... not dismissive so much as playful, if not commanding. But she was grinning all the same. "I get plenty of that going for me."
He seemed to recoil, almost a little shy at first. But that's when the smile came back... and she wasn't sure if she should feel nervous, or what. "Then let's make a deal for my silence."
"Bold..." the bottle of corona swirled in her grip, causing a bubbling of carbonation to form a frothy ring around the base of the liquid just shy of before she downed what was left from it. She was game though, and gave Bill the benefit of not being a creep, "State your terms."
That's when things got interesting...
The wheels were turning, though he didn't seem to fall into the zone of 'creep', in that he wasn't eyeing her up and down. He was-for all intents and purposes-just looking to enjoy the time spent with one of his favorite celebrities. I mean, c'mon... it was a dream come true!
"Difficult... you could probably kick my ass if it was a wrestling match."
She rolled her eyes, "Seriously? That's where you went?... Typical." But her note didn't imply disgust, if anything she tool the hit, and struck Bill in the arm with enough force to kinda tease him about that 'Kick ass Michelle' theory everyone seemed to have. "Not like I live for fighting or something."
"Yeah, but that fight with Ronda Rousey, wasn't that real?" He quipped.
A shrug later, "Okay. I'll give you that... I thought it should be genuine, plus I kinda wanted to know if I could throw down with the best of them."
"And?"
She snickered... "She kicked my ass! Apparently they had to stop the fight cause I got a few welts from it... but I had a blast--what parts I remembered." She even made a face at the thought. Much of the Rousey fight was still a blur to her, she scarcely remembered the director in all of his shouting... "Okay, so I'll give you that... but no fighting--don't wanna embarrass you in front of a room full of marines."
Bill laughed, but she could see that the point came across, he wasn't feeling all that 'easy' about it all the same. Didn't discourage him from brainstorming--BING!
Light bulbs went off, she saw the light upstairs as Michelle raised a hand for another drink from the bartender.
"Alright, okay... now... might sound dumb but then how about a proposed game?"
..."If you expect clothes to come off--"
He cut her off with a wave, "No no. C'mon... I'm not some creep. BUT... the stakes are simple: if I win, you gotta lose the hoodie--"
Michelle feigned a look of shock, "I just said no clothes!" She interrupted.
"Dude. Let me finish... just the hoodie. If I win, you lose the hoodie, and at the end of the night I can get a few pictures of you with my buddies... they would totally lose their shit if they knew you were here..."
Her lips frowned thoughtfully as she went silent for a while. "Okay, fine... I lose and you can show me off to your friends..." she finally professed to the deal. "So then what do I get if I win?"
Bill shrugged, "I won't tell anyone who you are."
"And you provide me with a bottomless glass," her way of saying 'drinks on him', though truth be told she wasn't about to waste anther person's dollar when she could easily afford it.
"Done." No hesitation, holding out his hand.
Michelle made another face and wagged a finger at him, "Oh no slick. I wanna know what the game is first before I agree to anything."
Bill grinned, a little shy... but it just enough to be appealing, and she couldn't decide whether he was playing her... or just happened to be agreeable company for the mood she was in. Ultimately, Michelle decided, in that 'it is what I say it is' way that she had about her life, that she didn't care.
It was a much more laid-back philosophy than how it sounded. It 'sounded' badass, according to most... but, as long as she was having fun, and her conditions were adhered to... he could do the same, right? Have fun, that is. It was much easier than trying to turn a simple night's entertainment into some kind of bargaining session...
'Besides, I'll be getting free drinks outta this,' her brain reminded her.
That being said, she did nearly snark over her beer when Bill spoke up again, just as she was taking a sip.
"So... are you ticklish?" And, for what it was worth, he didn't seem to have that much trouble popping the question.
"Oh, 'God...'" Michelle's eyes were nearly rolling out of her head. "You're one of 'those' people..." But, she didn't exactly turn cold, either. She'd already made her impression of him, and found it worth an evening... and besides; she thought she saw where he was going with this. It left her grinning, even despite herself.
"Okay, I'll play along. Let's say I am."
"But are you?" Bill pressed, setting down his beer and turning to face her fully... in a mildly ominous way that had her gently shying off in the opposite direction. The tiny burst of playful 'fear' she felt surprised her; they were going into weird territory, but she was more or less enjoying the ride.
"Yeah... I mean, I think s -- 'hey' now..." and she was deflecting a hand -- a slow, gentle, but still somewhat familiar grip that had been aiming for her ribs.
"Sorry..." He didn't much sound it, but he saw that she was willing to let it go, and he pressed on: "So, here's the game: you take it, ten seconds... snark all you want, but no breaking out laughing -- and no pulling away. I'm sure the guys would be willing to help on that end..."
"... I'll bet..." She gave him an elbow -- a gentle one -- in response to his attempted 'evaluation.'
"Ten seconds... and then you get a drink. Then twenty... and a drink." He was smirking. "Still don't know about a fight... but I'm pretty sure I can make you giggle like a little girl."
"Like a... 'oh.'" She was sneering now. "Bring it, bitch... but go on and finish, first, because I wanna know how far this goes. If you're topping out at half a fucking hour, no bet."
Bill shook his head. "One minute... thirty seconds, then forty, then fifty, then a minute. Then... if you haven't lost by then? We'll see what kinda shape you're in --"
"-- Ha!" She was already chugging the rest of her first beer.
"-- and see if you're game for a few minute-long rounds. Make it a little more serious. I fully expect to be buying a few rounds here, but I think that by the end of this thing, you're gonna be posing with your hood down. And, one more thing..."
"Name it." Michelle didn't even know why this sounded like so much fun, all of a sudden... new challenge, perhaps? It was still weird... but different, and as propositions went, it was more harmless than thousands she'd been offered in the past.
"If you're getting bottomless booze for this... but I wind up winning? You either pick up the whole tab yourself, voluntarily... or I get five minutes of the same... uninterrupted... to try and persuade you to anyway. Hold out through that and you're home free."
She gave him her most confident smirk, and raised her beer, as if to toast. "I can already taste the freedom, boy. So... where are we doing this?"
Y'know... he never really thought that far ahead. It was a spare the moment kind of idea to start... exciting prospect because even though he wasn't a pervert, his hands on the legendary Michelle Rodriguez's body was just FAR too enticing to pass up... plus... well, there was a small sliver in Michelle herself.
She loved the challenge, and without sounding like some attention whore, she loved the personal closeness with people. Wasn't about to jump into a crowd and ask people to cope a feel...
Michelle sensed the pause in between. "How about right here then," she added, her hand sweeping in gesture to the bar they were already at. "Wouldn't matter if we found a quiet spot anyway, plus it might keep your hands clean from wandering too far."
"Hey that ain't fair-"
She cut him off, "I'm just playing dude... rattling your chains. But it does bring another valid rule too: no coping a feel, and you get two choices for spots, so long as it's clean."
He smiled, letting out a breath. "Right... okay. Well then how about upper body for one?"
"Alright... no boob action." Pointing a stern finger at him in between yet another pull from her drink.
"Fair. And..." he was at a loss for a moment, caught between the woman's legs which he found himself staring at. Still encased mostly in her shorts, it was still a hard choice...
Michelle reached a hand out and lifted his chin up. "Nope, not gonna happen. Upper body and feet, I'll let you have my feet but nothing above, right?" She added, looking him in the eye with a slight mock-scold undertone. 'Quickest drink I've earned so far'.
"So right here, in front of everyone... ten second increments, and I get to choose from your feet or upper body-clean... no boob action." Bill went through, "Sound about right?"
She nodded, "Yep... pause in between so that I can enjoy my victory sip while you bask in the glory that is my resolve."
"High opinion about yourself hmmm?" The man teased, but found himself a little more enlightened to this game, the way she shrugged wayward.
"I dunno, doesn't seem like a big deal so why not?"
"Alright... first round." Bill pulled out his smartphone and set the timer to twenty seconds. For a while Michelle was almost a little uncertain. He could tell from the look on her face. "No, it's only so that I have time in between to set the phone down after hitting the timer... alright? Gotta give me a little wiggle room." He added as arms were held out just slightly in defense.
"So how does this work now?"
Bill pulled something else out from his pocket now, a quarter. "Heads, upper body. Tails, your feet..." with that he flipped it up in the air and caught it just as it was within range... slapping it down on the back of his hand. When that palm raised though, it came up heads. "Alright... hands above your head."
She was almost halfway in the motion when she paused, "Remember... keep it clean." Not a threat, still... given her history in action films, she could probably be very damaging with little effort. But soon her fingers were interlacing together at the base of her head, hoodie still on as she faced out towards the crowd.
People had grown interested at some point... perhaps even a few sneaking a peek in question, but the dance floor dominated most of the attention though as Bill took up position behind her and slid his hands carefully under the folds of the hoodie, unzipping it first as her washboard stomach came to view, hidden beneath only a slightly baggy graphic tee.
Oh, shit!... suddenly remembering, the timer wasn't set yet, he reached a hand out and brought the clock down to fifteen before hitting 'start', then counted down from five himself...
...Four... three... two...
"... One..."
Michelle heard the last digit of the countdown, and fought back the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. She was in luck, after a fashion: the first round was only ten seconds long. Bill couldn't afford to put time into a slow, gradual buildup, a teasing sense of anticipation.
The man himself 'itched' to do exactly that, to feel the slow escalation of the tough woman's shivering as he worked his way up from her waist. As it was, he took a less developed path, and went straight for her smoothly shaven underarms.
His hands slid down into the sleeves of her baggy tee, as he counted down the time. Michelle's face was virtually impassive, though there was the most subtle twitch around her lips as she clenched her jaw in anticipation. Even so, when his nails finally dug into those soft hollows, and dragged pale furrows along her mocha-colored skin, she twitched faintly to the left.
She was more ticklish than she remembered... 'Shit,' ran through her mind, and for a moment, Bill's fingers faltered. Michelle's eyes widened; 'he can't possibly take that to be resistance... that's not just fair!'
And, apparently, he hadn't; just as she opened her mouth in protest, his fingertips scrabbled right down the middle of either naked armpit. What started as a word, ended up as something like a grunting "HECH--" but whatever she had meant to say was lost. Michelle shuddered from her shoulders to her waist, crossed her legs beneath her barstool, and audibly snapped her teeth together in a wide, smiling grin, the muscles of her neck taut under the strain of biting back a yelp that had gotten as far as the top of her throat.
His right hand started to drift lower... tickling along the warm skin just beneath that underarm. Ten seconds was only ten seconds, however, and while she felt as though she were enduring icy needles being driven into her spine, she had only just started to twist toward that drifting right hand... and it was over.
Bill was grinning, and by the look on his face, he could not believe his luck. Clearly, the man was relishing the entire experience, including watching that first shuddering, wracking breath that Michelle drew, before finally letting out a laugh.
"Woo! Shit... Fuck, man. I didn't think I was that bad." She was still grinning, though; the booze was flowing, and it still seemed pretty harmless. A couple of Bill's marine buddies had drifted in, and while they evidently found the whole thing quite funny, they were still casually rooting for her with a raise of their own drinks.
"I think they like you," Bill offered quietly, with a slight grin.
"You've done this before," Michelle accused, but when he glanced quickly at her face, he saw her grinning, her tongue held playfully between her teeth.
"A time or two. Can't blame a guy for having fun, right?"
She shrugged... ankles still crossed, with the tops of her toes hooked under an iron bar that ran around the base of the bar counter itself, around the outside of the center-mounted stools' supports. "As long as you don't blame a girl for wanting that beer you promised." She was smirking: "Maybe after a few of these, you'll actually get a squeak outta me, frat-boy."
It was all Michelle could do to not just wipe her hands all over herself suddenly to just 'wash' away the last of those feelings... arms kinda rubbing together, almost in the way that girls would after putting on some deodorant... just that nagging 'itch' that made her skin crawl, just not in a horrible way.
'Feels like those fingers are still crawling all over my skin...' she thought, and held up the triumphant shot to the hoot of her audience. A quick downer, and a follow-up with a beer that someone handed forward, and she was giving off another kind of shiver... internal one. "HOO! Good shit... Now... just 'how' many times have you done this before?" she asked.
...Shame Bill wasn't able to respond quick enough, "Not his fault." One of his Marine buddies spoke up, "Can't blame a guy for wanting to have a little fun, right?"
"Oh? So what, that mean I get to see one of you fucktards in this chair next? Strip-tickle a marine, that's a new one... who's up for it?" Despite the rhetoric though, there was obvious a light-hearted essence of banter going about, and for a while Michelle just allowed herself to egg on a sudden jeering audience that turned back and forth on one-another as if they were selling out some deep State secret.
"Oh fucking James is ticklish for sure,"
"Nah, totally Bill... used to cry like a kid..."
And so on it went until...
..."Hey, we all forgetting our guest here?!" Bill snapped, as much a little flustered as he was in trying to keep up the bargain. "Don't tell me that you're gonna let a little thing like not being our first get in the way, you made a bet Mich--Miss little 'thang'..." a quick catch, but he did have a brief bout where his breath caught in his throat. Actually almost went full on when Michelle punched him in the stomach--not hard, and she wasn't even sore about his blunder... she just did it cause it left him briefly shocked and only mildly winded as his friends were all just laughing their ass off.
"Oh, that's how it is huh?"
She smiled, "What, pretty-boy can't take bein' hit by a girl? Suck it up dude and line up the next shot!"
"Oh fuck that... boys!"
Tandem effort made, but the drill was solid all the same as three of the guys came forward... Michelle's arms? Tight enough grips. Newly recruited Marines. She didn't look worried, though she allowed for a brief mock-struggle to ensue. "Hey-the fuck?! Oh hell naw, this wasn't in the rules."
"Well I can't have you throwin' girl punches at me, we made a bet."
"Don't worry--" one voice said to Michelle's right, the guy holding her arm at the wrist and just above the elbow, "--you can lick this pussy... almost tried it to win a date with my SISTER... how'd that work out?" The Marine jeered.
Bill flushed, and in spite of herself, Michelle just snickered. "I could totally kick your ass," she added, looking back to the marine holding her down.
The third and final was seated on the ground and leaning back against her bar stool, taking up the obvious task of fishing her ankles out from between the rungs to hold her ankles out just enough. That got him a well-deserved kick to the face.. enough that he thought twice, though not painful enough to cause damage. "Damn, you got a live wire here man."
"Yeah I know! Dude, you don't even know the half of it..." Bill confessed, but he didn't go beyond that.
"So the rules are the same then--boys... if you gonna be holdin' me down that means that if he tries copping a feel, you kick his ass," Michelle added, rallying to the efforts of the Marines.
"Fuck yeah!" it was just one of accepting that followed almost the whole crowd. It also made Bill a little nervous too.
So for a moment things seemed to quiet down finally, and just as Bill reached in to pull out a coin..."--WAIT!"
It was Michelle. "Since the rules changed you owe me another shot."
Bill agreed, and as Michelle got into a comfy position, he held the glass out and tipped it back as she swallowed, got another shiver... then adjusted herself again before nodding. "Alright, flip that fucking coin."
The coin flipped... but as Bill went to grab it, he accidentally smacked it instead and sent it careening across the bar top. Michelle was glancing over her one shoulder--still a little 'indisposed' at the moment. "NOPE! Where it lands... find the fucking coin or the deal's off!"
You wouldn't BELIEVE just how fast Bill moved... rushing across the tables and almost jumping to a sliding halt atop the bar counter. In fact there was a whole uproar of laughter as he tumbled over the edge and collapsed behind the bar.
"TAILS! Sandals are off sweetie!" The man announced, holding the coin up in one hand.
Not quite the same deep throb of a pounding heart as she had before, Michelle had no idea... shit, people never really went after her feet--for anything! 'Maybe they are ticklish... I dunno...' she thought, then gave a slight raise of her chin. "You heard em boys, knock them off my sweaty ass feet." Even wiggling her toes at the thought as the Marine down below gave a quick forward jerk of each ankle, and they went flying.
"Don't lose those either!" She scolded, and was none too surprised to find one of the audience members gratefully picking them up. "Members of our Studio Audience who happily participated are hereby awarded a free drink on the loser." she added at the final stroke. "Figure since the loser has to buy out the tabs, right? You don't mind do you?"
"Hey, stop changing the rules!" He sounded frustrated at first, and he kinda was... but damn, if he wasn't having the time of his fucking life.
"You changed them first, don't have a shit just cause I'm upping the stakes." Michelle added. That's when one of the Marines she noticed that was holding at her left arm started to reach for her hoodie. "Oh no you don't boyo... part of our bet. I don't loose the hoodie unless I lose."
For a while he just stood there, but Bill nodded. "It's true. We have a bet."
She grinned at him... a shit-eating grin like 'I told you so' before jerking her head in a sharp nod. "Sit your ass down... wait... itch..." tugging her arm free with a yank that surprised him as she scratched just under her chin... then, holding that same arm out. "Come on watch-dog... get back to work."
Arm restrained again, the Marine at her feet held her ankles out just enough that they were elevated at a slight angle. Size seven, very shapely and pretty, with a 'full bodied' figure that suited the rest of her. Besides prior claims though they didn't have a trace of sweat save for a mild dampness around where the straps wrapped about her foot, and smooth more than soft, from a great deal of time spent on hikes, climbing, or anything else she could enjoy without the confines of shoes. It didn't diminish their softness though as she gave her toes a partial wiggle, gleaning in a soft caramel cream color which was only a mild contrast to the chocolate mocha tone of her skin.
For a while it was all Bill seemed to notice, and it only broke his trance when Michelle interrupted his thoughts, suddenly announcing "Hey boy, you gonna get to work or give 'em a kiss... Thought we had a game here, and I'm fucking thirsty..."
"Alright, someone start the countdown here!" Bill announced, and the whole crowd seemed on board by now.
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!" They were almost louder than the music...
"TWO!" God... her chest was thumping... she tried looking straight ahead by now, attempting to hold her feet still, but her toes twitched nervously all the same.
"ONE!"
And that's when the countdown began. Unlike before, Bill wasn't seeming to want to waste this opportunity. He was quicker to map out the lay of the land as his nails--slightly shorter, and only barely felt--grazed along the underside of her toes, causing the woman to jolt and rotate in her seat.
He was cruising along the arches, watching the soft flail they gave outward which at first seemed like a dismissive wave, but the deeper down into the arch he managed, the more those toes splayed, almost caught up in their own response, or just plain shock... barely tugging an inch as the Marine actually looked to-at one point-be using a great deal of strength to keep her still... he even had to bring his shoulders up in a slight crouch to rest her calf muscles against before holding them down.
And Michelle was LIVID... Half her face contorted to crunching up, including the goofy, lopsided grin she gave... an almost inward whine squeaking out at one point in a slight drawn out "HNGHNNnnnnnnnnnnn!" as he started to transcend the arch into deeper territories. She was leaning heavily on one side... 'FUCK! Why are they ticklish? THEY SHOULD NOT BE THIS FUCKING SENSITIVE GOD-DAMNIT!' She professed to no one but herself as she even fell to burying her face against the man's shoulder.
"NO! Make sure she's not laughing!" One person shouted, and they all watched in eager anticipation now... a slight jump of her midsection, her feet rotating and jerking again before toes went spastic by the next upward stroke.
...Just a little further... he could even 'feel' her feet vibrating under her touch... the arch just one more--"TIME!" The crowd shouted.
Michelle just jerked forward with another gasp, and sagged a bit... not so much catching her breath as she was reeling from that tingly itch. "Sorry boyo!" She still had her voice, but it was soft for now, as though she were afraid to fully speak... "Told ya my feet aren't ticklish--too bad for yuuuuuu!" The last bit of her tone mocking, impersonating Gold Member from Austin Powers.
Everyone was laughing, including Bill as he gestured for another round.
"Oh it's not over yet."
But Michelle was already tipping her head back for another shot... and downed more than half a beer from a plastic cup before she gasped. "Son, this contest is already won."
(PART ONE)
BUT... I'm hoping to stay, meaning far more fun and savings for you guys, and freebies! This time it's the epic tale of everyone's favorite Resident Badass: Michelle Rodriguez.
Ticklish? No? What's she like behind the scenes? Well... let's follow the life and style of good Ole Fast and Furious herself.
FYI, this is just the first part... there might be as many as two, three, maybe four! Just depends when I decide to stop. Either way, consider this another free tale from good ole Jersey Devil!
(Disclaimer: Fanfiction, no actual facts blah blah blah. You know the scoop. But have fun and enjoy!)
The Ticklish Badass:
Bad-ass extraordinaire to be precise...
...Nah, just kidding. The raise to fame was one thing, but she'd just as much pull her middle finger out of a hat before she came off as the 'violent' type, both to friends or just fans alike. They weren't fans, they were 'her' people... ones she related to, and whom she shared her art with.
Oh, she wouldn't turn a party down if offered... but much of her younger years were long since past. Bad press making things out far worse than they were--or maybe she just needed to chill the fuck out a bit more.
'Don't need to chill, just need to stop being fucking stupid...' of course, that thought came in relation to press from prior events, as even girls like her were the subject of feeling 'self conscious'.
So... what to do?
A dry spell of jobbing (she called it Jobbing anyway) in between left good ole Michelle Rodriguez in a tangent string of adventure-seeking.
Her favorite habit? Same thing that landed her in hot water...
...Luck of chance had good Michelle touring through San Diego at the time, but not a lot of people were aware of flight plans. Despite popular belief, the paparazzi weren't Gods... and Rodriguez knew how to fly under the radar. Current touring plans had her stationed 'technically' in Los Angeles, but a rental car and a few hours of driving later, she only needed to keep her agent informed of her movements as she placed herself in the nearby hole-in-the-wall hotel near the downtown strip, and went walking-distance down the row of clubs.
You guessed it... her favorite habit was surprise parties. Though vastly hitting a point of becoming a household name, Michelle Rodriguez was still relatively low-key in the public eye, and it came from a building reputation that she was as chill as she appeared to be.
She dressed in a pair of white jeans that came down a little past the ankle, and slid into closed-toe sandals before topping off with a white Linkin Park shirt and a light gray hoodie. The hoodie helped... let her tour the downtown streets without many people raising a brow.
"C'mon, gotta be something fun down this way..." She silently brooded, though she wore a bit of a constant smirk upon her lips. The thrill of celebrityism wasn't nothing, not nearly as much as the 'hidden in plain sight' scheme that often had people more shocked than anything once it finally dawned on them who they were partying with, and Michelle just wanted something low key.
It was a little-known thing, her penchant for showing up at parties unannounced, but it was something that always seemed to make sense once it had gone down. Pull back the hood, and there was the inevitable recognition -- someone had always been on a Fast & Furious bender "just the other day."
Then, the party usually continued right along, with renewed spirits. Michelle got to have a little fun, while providing a shot in the arm: a second surge in the excitement level of an affair that had just started to wind down.
That was the usual way that things went down, at least, but tonight she was coming up empty. The strip was a drag; she never went so far as to walk down the darkest alleys, or hit up the worst neighborhoods, but it wasn't exactly the 5th Avenue experience that she was after either. She could usually count on something going on, whatever the hour, wherever she allowed herself to wind up.
"Man, this ain't right." Under her breath, and not without a little bit of a wry grin. "Don't tell me I come all the way out here, only to wind up..."
Her voice trailed off, as that wry grin turned into a broader smile; she could dazzle, when she wanted to, or when she was caught off-guard by an unpleasant surprise. The area wasn't familiar to her, but the sounds of something lively were starting to filter their way in her direction from around the next corner.
She was on what felt like the edge of the neighborhood club scene; in this city, that meant something small (or small-ish) and chummy, people who knew each other having a good time together, with just enough by way of unfamiliar faces for her to blend in for a while.
The music was loud, the refreshment wet -- or dry, however you wanted it. All in all, a good time. The kind of people who weren't expecting anything, but always wound up appreciative of a little unexpected company. She paused when she got to the front door; the bright neon sign and loud dance music were the only indicators of anything special in an otherwise pretty plain brick facade.
"Huh... 'Sebulba.'" Her lips pursed, as she took in the name, before stepping up to the front door. "Sounds interesting" was her last thought before she walked in.
Turns out she found her safe place of refuge after all... The party held at Sebulba was in recognition of a group of friends... or family. There were quite the few Marines in attendance, and despite the alcohol content that was obviously being passed around, the festivities were more or less intended for the good old fashioned...
Another highlight to the liveliness of California: it provided quite a few outdoor parties on the strip. In fact Fifth Avenue was famous for its outdoor raves. Music festivals never seemed to be in short supply.
Michelle made up her mind and shoved the hoodie down off her head, stepping through the front doors which led to one of two dominated areas: the inner club itself had livelier colors than expected... not bright and strobing, but softer, you could actually see the other people around, and never were short hand from someone willing to dance the groove along with you.
That also led to the open patio which sported a few bonfire pits littered about, the furniture and decor matching an outdoor barbecue more or less... and the beats... a fancied up DJ playing all the good old-timey hits like Sweet Home Alabama, and other rock classics that were made just for such an occasion.
She was already grinning from ear to ear... working her way through the crowd in a flurried buzz of cropped, shaved heads, and beautiful women alike, none of which took even a second glance. A nice sway f the hips, a good old grind here and there, and an endless supply of boos that was passed down the aisles like candy, a proverbial conga line. 'See, now this is what we need to have more of' came the passing thought as Michelle cozied up with a nearby couple, eventually turning into a three-way dance that had her waving her arms in the air, already past the point of sober from just the surge of the dance floor alone before she had her first beer of the night.
In fact most of the night went down without a hitch. And on her liveliest of occasions, soon it was like she had slowly started to warp things to become centered about her; people were noticing... her Latin style dance moves, or the succulent rolling of her butt right down to her hips. She even broke into Salsa style moves that had more than one cheering member waning to stand in line and be next.
Same lack of scrutiny; man, woman... didn't matter. She was dizzy with the buzz, apparently finding her corner niche in the scheme of the party. Michelle Rodriguez had found her adventure for the night...
The place was happening, in a way that suggested a secret, like something little-known in a city full of famous clubs and bars. Untold thousands had a fun time every night, but Xibalba gave the impression of something known to only a few, like it could 'happen' at a moment's notice and then go dormant until the next time its regular patrons needed someplace to hang.
Despite the very visible owner, a young, raven-haired woman with a brilliant shock of blue running through her long hair, it almost seemed to have a presence of its own, as if the doors would open of their own accord.
Michelle was having the time of her life, as she so often did... which didn't diminish any one of those times at all. It simply added up to a fun hobby, part of a time in her life that was going exactly the way she wanted it too.
In a way... films aside... this was her way of connecting, and sharing a little with those around her. Within the first couple of hours after arriving, she danced with half of the people there. Men, women, and at least two generations of people well-represented; it didn't matter.
It wasn't a lead-in to anything; just a good time.
"Hey!"
The greeting came suddenly; unanticipated in the moment, but not unexpected overall. People had been cheering; folks had lined up, with no idea who she was, energized by Latin moves at once fluid and sharp -- like a tongue of fire, swaying in loose yet controlled fashion across the floor.
It was a little energetic, over-eager... but you had to be, to be heard over the music. "Hey yourself!" was her response, but there was a grin, visible within the depths of her hoodie, as the two of them moved off to one side to get out of the way of those whom Michelle's energy had kicked into a livelier step. "You lookin' to dance?"
"We already have -- twice." He was grinning, too; from the depths of her hood, she gave him a quick once-over.
Not quite six feet, give or take, but with her five-foot-five stature that suited Michelle just fine. He had a lean body, dressed like he worked out of a home office... like he was trying to match a billboard advertisement for fashionable, casual men's wear. A white tee-shirt, blue jeans, and topped with a short-sleeve, button-down shirt, hanging open. It had a simple checkered pattern, but the lighting made the colors hard to distinguish.
A little boring... but he pulled it off well, and he stood like he was exactly where he needed to be. Far more striking were his eyes, deep, and dark, set in a face with high cheekbones, and topped by a mop of curly black hair. "No worries, though," he was saying; "You've gotten everyone's attention, can't blame you for missing little old me."
He waved to one of the bartenders... and got an immediate response; "two Coronas."
Michelle found herself smiling. There was something she liked about him. "Didn't say I wanted a drink," she quipped, but she was grinning openly, and she let her body speak for her: nothing too forward or untoward. Just a casual lean, the type of thing that only inexperienced frat-boys took too seriously -- but it wasn't to be dismissed out of hand, either.
Just in case there was any doubt, she picked up her beer when it arrived, and took up a resting posture against the bar, next to her admirer. "Guess I could use a break, right?"
He had been friendly, and not too presumptuous; now, he was looking at her, head cocked to one side; "You know..." and there was a speculative tone, straightforward enough; "This... is the 'oldest' line in the book." He plucked the lime wedge out of his bottle and took a sip; "But I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. At least, your voice; I know I've heard it. I don't know, something... familiar?"
Then he laughed, and shook his head. "Nah, ignore that. Damn, y'know how often I've used that, and not meant it? It's just, I dunno..." He let his voice trail off -- to the point of things becoming mildly awkward, but not offensively so. Then, "I'm Bill, by the way... but, please, don't ask my last name."
A little clumsy, but that was in itself kind of charming -- if also quite possibly an act. Michelle gave a small laugh, and took a long pull from her beer. She was still having a good time, and after so many nights spent doing this kind of thing, that said something.
The chemistry didn't bother her--shit, you couldn't really connect with people on any level without some form of chemistry after all--but at the same time, those lines were also part of the small thrill. 'Do I know you?' A guilty pleasure all its own, and usually something that started getting out of control once it was established that yes, yes chances are he has seen her before.
"Michelle," it just rolled off the tongue, extending a simple hand out--the same 'friend zone' hand that was all too knowing in its essence of finality. At least for her. 'If I was looking for a date...'
She didn't allow the thought to go further beyond that, dismissing it before her head was caught too much up in the clouds. She was here to get grounded again, not to elevate the pedestal for her own ego. "Nice to meet yo-"
Mid hand-shake though... she felt the clenching of her own chest just mildly, but he was holding her hand... and staring at her like he saw something past the hoodie she threw back up. "Wait, you're... are..." like some guilty secret he even leaned closer, giving Michelle a small whiff of cologne and perspiration, "Are you Michelle Rodriguez?!" That urgency was something she just couldn't get used to, not in a bad way. Sometimes she didn't believe in her own fame, rather being one down in the trenches and living life than some ivory tower of Celebutants. Oh the parties were more than epic, but also part of a grander show.
She didn't despise it... but she didn't like feeling caught between two worlds.
Her lips frowned almost playfully, a bit of an 'ironic' expression that etched into her brow as she retracted her hand, both then suddenly rising up in a sweeping shrug that embodied the use of both hands. "Guilty." So what now? She was still plotting that.
"You can't tell anyone though. I just wanna have fun; dance a little, drink a little. Call it a day."
Seems the frat boy didn't need convincing... so many questions rolling on through his mind though. Did he ask, did he go total fanboy, or did he just roll with the punches? A wayward glance around the crowd revealed to her that people were only mildly interested right now--mostly from the show she put on earlier. Seems that even at her most drunken, Michelle could still bust a move or two. But it wasn't a huge gathering so much as passing glances themselves.
The only one she had really caught was Bill... not Billy... which earned brownie points. Sounded like a name from one of those teen dramas.
"Well I'm kinda torn... most all of us are friends here, some shipping out soon. I'm here mainly to support a few frat-boys I went to school with who are now Marines." Sure, he was a little pride-driven with the sentiment, and rightfully so. "Final send-off for his troop deployment and it might be some time before we hang again."
"I thought as much from outside. No offense but the haircuts kinda gave it away," she pointed out, noting with no actual displeasure that mostly half of the room was dominated by a crew cut. No shiny, polished uniforms... most everyone here was adorning jeans or shorts, the kind of attire you imagine you'd see for the San Diego night life. Some even a little fancier while engaging in that 'final dance' with the sweetheart.
For a few moments in between drinks, Michelle could see that Bill looked like he was going to crack. Hell it even made her laugh, the nervous way he rubbed at the back of his head, his cheeks occasionally going flush.
"Okay, what is it?"
It wasn't so much a cork popping off a champagne bottle, but Bill let her have it all the same, "Oh you're just killin' me here. I mean... how cool would it be to get some pictures with 'The' Michelle Rodriguez... like, you're a total badass! Don't take this personally, but I think you kinda deserve the recognition. On top of that you're--"
She held up a hand... not dismissive so much as playful, if not commanding. But she was grinning all the same. "I get plenty of that going for me."
He seemed to recoil, almost a little shy at first. But that's when the smile came back... and she wasn't sure if she should feel nervous, or what. "Then let's make a deal for my silence."
"Bold..." the bottle of corona swirled in her grip, causing a bubbling of carbonation to form a frothy ring around the base of the liquid just shy of before she downed what was left from it. She was game though, and gave Bill the benefit of not being a creep, "State your terms."
That's when things got interesting...
The wheels were turning, though he didn't seem to fall into the zone of 'creep', in that he wasn't eyeing her up and down. He was-for all intents and purposes-just looking to enjoy the time spent with one of his favorite celebrities. I mean, c'mon... it was a dream come true!
"Difficult... you could probably kick my ass if it was a wrestling match."
She rolled her eyes, "Seriously? That's where you went?... Typical." But her note didn't imply disgust, if anything she tool the hit, and struck Bill in the arm with enough force to kinda tease him about that 'Kick ass Michelle' theory everyone seemed to have. "Not like I live for fighting or something."
"Yeah, but that fight with Ronda Rousey, wasn't that real?" He quipped.
A shrug later, "Okay. I'll give you that... I thought it should be genuine, plus I kinda wanted to know if I could throw down with the best of them."
"And?"
She snickered... "She kicked my ass! Apparently they had to stop the fight cause I got a few welts from it... but I had a blast--what parts I remembered." She even made a face at the thought. Much of the Rousey fight was still a blur to her, she scarcely remembered the director in all of his shouting... "Okay, so I'll give you that... but no fighting--don't wanna embarrass you in front of a room full of marines."
Bill laughed, but she could see that the point came across, he wasn't feeling all that 'easy' about it all the same. Didn't discourage him from brainstorming--BING!
Light bulbs went off, she saw the light upstairs as Michelle raised a hand for another drink from the bartender.
"Alright, okay... now... might sound dumb but then how about a proposed game?"
..."If you expect clothes to come off--"
He cut her off with a wave, "No no. C'mon... I'm not some creep. BUT... the stakes are simple: if I win, you gotta lose the hoodie--"
Michelle feigned a look of shock, "I just said no clothes!" She interrupted.
"Dude. Let me finish... just the hoodie. If I win, you lose the hoodie, and at the end of the night I can get a few pictures of you with my buddies... they would totally lose their shit if they knew you were here..."
Her lips frowned thoughtfully as she went silent for a while. "Okay, fine... I lose and you can show me off to your friends..." she finally professed to the deal. "So then what do I get if I win?"
Bill shrugged, "I won't tell anyone who you are."
"And you provide me with a bottomless glass," her way of saying 'drinks on him', though truth be told she wasn't about to waste anther person's dollar when she could easily afford it.
"Done." No hesitation, holding out his hand.
Michelle made another face and wagged a finger at him, "Oh no slick. I wanna know what the game is first before I agree to anything."
Bill grinned, a little shy... but it just enough to be appealing, and she couldn't decide whether he was playing her... or just happened to be agreeable company for the mood she was in. Ultimately, Michelle decided, in that 'it is what I say it is' way that she had about her life, that she didn't care.
It was a much more laid-back philosophy than how it sounded. It 'sounded' badass, according to most... but, as long as she was having fun, and her conditions were adhered to... he could do the same, right? Have fun, that is. It was much easier than trying to turn a simple night's entertainment into some kind of bargaining session...
'Besides, I'll be getting free drinks outta this,' her brain reminded her.
That being said, she did nearly snark over her beer when Bill spoke up again, just as she was taking a sip.
"So... are you ticklish?" And, for what it was worth, he didn't seem to have that much trouble popping the question.
"Oh, 'God...'" Michelle's eyes were nearly rolling out of her head. "You're one of 'those' people..." But, she didn't exactly turn cold, either. She'd already made her impression of him, and found it worth an evening... and besides; she thought she saw where he was going with this. It left her grinning, even despite herself.
"Okay, I'll play along. Let's say I am."
"But are you?" Bill pressed, setting down his beer and turning to face her fully... in a mildly ominous way that had her gently shying off in the opposite direction. The tiny burst of playful 'fear' she felt surprised her; they were going into weird territory, but she was more or less enjoying the ride.
"Yeah... I mean, I think s -- 'hey' now..." and she was deflecting a hand -- a slow, gentle, but still somewhat familiar grip that had been aiming for her ribs.
"Sorry..." He didn't much sound it, but he saw that she was willing to let it go, and he pressed on: "So, here's the game: you take it, ten seconds... snark all you want, but no breaking out laughing -- and no pulling away. I'm sure the guys would be willing to help on that end..."
"... I'll bet..." She gave him an elbow -- a gentle one -- in response to his attempted 'evaluation.'
"Ten seconds... and then you get a drink. Then twenty... and a drink." He was smirking. "Still don't know about a fight... but I'm pretty sure I can make you giggle like a little girl."
"Like a... 'oh.'" She was sneering now. "Bring it, bitch... but go on and finish, first, because I wanna know how far this goes. If you're topping out at half a fucking hour, no bet."
Bill shook his head. "One minute... thirty seconds, then forty, then fifty, then a minute. Then... if you haven't lost by then? We'll see what kinda shape you're in --"
"-- Ha!" She was already chugging the rest of her first beer.
"-- and see if you're game for a few minute-long rounds. Make it a little more serious. I fully expect to be buying a few rounds here, but I think that by the end of this thing, you're gonna be posing with your hood down. And, one more thing..."
"Name it." Michelle didn't even know why this sounded like so much fun, all of a sudden... new challenge, perhaps? It was still weird... but different, and as propositions went, it was more harmless than thousands she'd been offered in the past.
"If you're getting bottomless booze for this... but I wind up winning? You either pick up the whole tab yourself, voluntarily... or I get five minutes of the same... uninterrupted... to try and persuade you to anyway. Hold out through that and you're home free."
She gave him her most confident smirk, and raised her beer, as if to toast. "I can already taste the freedom, boy. So... where are we doing this?"
Y'know... he never really thought that far ahead. It was a spare the moment kind of idea to start... exciting prospect because even though he wasn't a pervert, his hands on the legendary Michelle Rodriguez's body was just FAR too enticing to pass up... plus... well, there was a small sliver in Michelle herself.
She loved the challenge, and without sounding like some attention whore, she loved the personal closeness with people. Wasn't about to jump into a crowd and ask people to cope a feel...
Michelle sensed the pause in between. "How about right here then," she added, her hand sweeping in gesture to the bar they were already at. "Wouldn't matter if we found a quiet spot anyway, plus it might keep your hands clean from wandering too far."
"Hey that ain't fair-"
She cut him off, "I'm just playing dude... rattling your chains. But it does bring another valid rule too: no coping a feel, and you get two choices for spots, so long as it's clean."
He smiled, letting out a breath. "Right... okay. Well then how about upper body for one?"
"Alright... no boob action." Pointing a stern finger at him in between yet another pull from her drink.
"Fair. And..." he was at a loss for a moment, caught between the woman's legs which he found himself staring at. Still encased mostly in her shorts, it was still a hard choice...
Michelle reached a hand out and lifted his chin up. "Nope, not gonna happen. Upper body and feet, I'll let you have my feet but nothing above, right?" She added, looking him in the eye with a slight mock-scold undertone. 'Quickest drink I've earned so far'.
"So right here, in front of everyone... ten second increments, and I get to choose from your feet or upper body-clean... no boob action." Bill went through, "Sound about right?"
She nodded, "Yep... pause in between so that I can enjoy my victory sip while you bask in the glory that is my resolve."
"High opinion about yourself hmmm?" The man teased, but found himself a little more enlightened to this game, the way she shrugged wayward.
"I dunno, doesn't seem like a big deal so why not?"
"Alright... first round." Bill pulled out his smartphone and set the timer to twenty seconds. For a while Michelle was almost a little uncertain. He could tell from the look on her face. "No, it's only so that I have time in between to set the phone down after hitting the timer... alright? Gotta give me a little wiggle room." He added as arms were held out just slightly in defense.
"So how does this work now?"
Bill pulled something else out from his pocket now, a quarter. "Heads, upper body. Tails, your feet..." with that he flipped it up in the air and caught it just as it was within range... slapping it down on the back of his hand. When that palm raised though, it came up heads. "Alright... hands above your head."
She was almost halfway in the motion when she paused, "Remember... keep it clean." Not a threat, still... given her history in action films, she could probably be very damaging with little effort. But soon her fingers were interlacing together at the base of her head, hoodie still on as she faced out towards the crowd.
People had grown interested at some point... perhaps even a few sneaking a peek in question, but the dance floor dominated most of the attention though as Bill took up position behind her and slid his hands carefully under the folds of the hoodie, unzipping it first as her washboard stomach came to view, hidden beneath only a slightly baggy graphic tee.
Oh, shit!... suddenly remembering, the timer wasn't set yet, he reached a hand out and brought the clock down to fifteen before hitting 'start', then counted down from five himself...
...Four... three... two...
"... One..."
Michelle heard the last digit of the countdown, and fought back the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. She was in luck, after a fashion: the first round was only ten seconds long. Bill couldn't afford to put time into a slow, gradual buildup, a teasing sense of anticipation.
The man himself 'itched' to do exactly that, to feel the slow escalation of the tough woman's shivering as he worked his way up from her waist. As it was, he took a less developed path, and went straight for her smoothly shaven underarms.
His hands slid down into the sleeves of her baggy tee, as he counted down the time. Michelle's face was virtually impassive, though there was the most subtle twitch around her lips as she clenched her jaw in anticipation. Even so, when his nails finally dug into those soft hollows, and dragged pale furrows along her mocha-colored skin, she twitched faintly to the left.
She was more ticklish than she remembered... 'Shit,' ran through her mind, and for a moment, Bill's fingers faltered. Michelle's eyes widened; 'he can't possibly take that to be resistance... that's not just fair!'
And, apparently, he hadn't; just as she opened her mouth in protest, his fingertips scrabbled right down the middle of either naked armpit. What started as a word, ended up as something like a grunting "HECH--" but whatever she had meant to say was lost. Michelle shuddered from her shoulders to her waist, crossed her legs beneath her barstool, and audibly snapped her teeth together in a wide, smiling grin, the muscles of her neck taut under the strain of biting back a yelp that had gotten as far as the top of her throat.
His right hand started to drift lower... tickling along the warm skin just beneath that underarm. Ten seconds was only ten seconds, however, and while she felt as though she were enduring icy needles being driven into her spine, she had only just started to twist toward that drifting right hand... and it was over.
Bill was grinning, and by the look on his face, he could not believe his luck. Clearly, the man was relishing the entire experience, including watching that first shuddering, wracking breath that Michelle drew, before finally letting out a laugh.
"Woo! Shit... Fuck, man. I didn't think I was that bad." She was still grinning, though; the booze was flowing, and it still seemed pretty harmless. A couple of Bill's marine buddies had drifted in, and while they evidently found the whole thing quite funny, they were still casually rooting for her with a raise of their own drinks.
"I think they like you," Bill offered quietly, with a slight grin.
"You've done this before," Michelle accused, but when he glanced quickly at her face, he saw her grinning, her tongue held playfully between her teeth.
"A time or two. Can't blame a guy for having fun, right?"
She shrugged... ankles still crossed, with the tops of her toes hooked under an iron bar that ran around the base of the bar counter itself, around the outside of the center-mounted stools' supports. "As long as you don't blame a girl for wanting that beer you promised." She was smirking: "Maybe after a few of these, you'll actually get a squeak outta me, frat-boy."
It was all Michelle could do to not just wipe her hands all over herself suddenly to just 'wash' away the last of those feelings... arms kinda rubbing together, almost in the way that girls would after putting on some deodorant... just that nagging 'itch' that made her skin crawl, just not in a horrible way.
'Feels like those fingers are still crawling all over my skin...' she thought, and held up the triumphant shot to the hoot of her audience. A quick downer, and a follow-up with a beer that someone handed forward, and she was giving off another kind of shiver... internal one. "HOO! Good shit... Now... just 'how' many times have you done this before?" she asked.
...Shame Bill wasn't able to respond quick enough, "Not his fault." One of his Marine buddies spoke up, "Can't blame a guy for wanting to have a little fun, right?"
"Oh? So what, that mean I get to see one of you fucktards in this chair next? Strip-tickle a marine, that's a new one... who's up for it?" Despite the rhetoric though, there was obvious a light-hearted essence of banter going about, and for a while Michelle just allowed herself to egg on a sudden jeering audience that turned back and forth on one-another as if they were selling out some deep State secret.
"Oh fucking James is ticklish for sure,"
"Nah, totally Bill... used to cry like a kid..."
And so on it went until...
..."Hey, we all forgetting our guest here?!" Bill snapped, as much a little flustered as he was in trying to keep up the bargain. "Don't tell me that you're gonna let a little thing like not being our first get in the way, you made a bet Mich--Miss little 'thang'..." a quick catch, but he did have a brief bout where his breath caught in his throat. Actually almost went full on when Michelle punched him in the stomach--not hard, and she wasn't even sore about his blunder... she just did it cause it left him briefly shocked and only mildly winded as his friends were all just laughing their ass off.
"Oh, that's how it is huh?"
She smiled, "What, pretty-boy can't take bein' hit by a girl? Suck it up dude and line up the next shot!"
"Oh fuck that... boys!"
Tandem effort made, but the drill was solid all the same as three of the guys came forward... Michelle's arms? Tight enough grips. Newly recruited Marines. She didn't look worried, though she allowed for a brief mock-struggle to ensue. "Hey-the fuck?! Oh hell naw, this wasn't in the rules."
"Well I can't have you throwin' girl punches at me, we made a bet."
"Don't worry--" one voice said to Michelle's right, the guy holding her arm at the wrist and just above the elbow, "--you can lick this pussy... almost tried it to win a date with my SISTER... how'd that work out?" The Marine jeered.
Bill flushed, and in spite of herself, Michelle just snickered. "I could totally kick your ass," she added, looking back to the marine holding her down.
The third and final was seated on the ground and leaning back against her bar stool, taking up the obvious task of fishing her ankles out from between the rungs to hold her ankles out just enough. That got him a well-deserved kick to the face.. enough that he thought twice, though not painful enough to cause damage. "Damn, you got a live wire here man."
"Yeah I know! Dude, you don't even know the half of it..." Bill confessed, but he didn't go beyond that.
"So the rules are the same then--boys... if you gonna be holdin' me down that means that if he tries copping a feel, you kick his ass," Michelle added, rallying to the efforts of the Marines.
"Fuck yeah!" it was just one of accepting that followed almost the whole crowd. It also made Bill a little nervous too.
So for a moment things seemed to quiet down finally, and just as Bill reached in to pull out a coin..."--WAIT!"
It was Michelle. "Since the rules changed you owe me another shot."
Bill agreed, and as Michelle got into a comfy position, he held the glass out and tipped it back as she swallowed, got another shiver... then adjusted herself again before nodding. "Alright, flip that fucking coin."
The coin flipped... but as Bill went to grab it, he accidentally smacked it instead and sent it careening across the bar top. Michelle was glancing over her one shoulder--still a little 'indisposed' at the moment. "NOPE! Where it lands... find the fucking coin or the deal's off!"
You wouldn't BELIEVE just how fast Bill moved... rushing across the tables and almost jumping to a sliding halt atop the bar counter. In fact there was a whole uproar of laughter as he tumbled over the edge and collapsed behind the bar.
"TAILS! Sandals are off sweetie!" The man announced, holding the coin up in one hand.
Not quite the same deep throb of a pounding heart as she had before, Michelle had no idea... shit, people never really went after her feet--for anything! 'Maybe they are ticklish... I dunno...' she thought, then gave a slight raise of her chin. "You heard em boys, knock them off my sweaty ass feet." Even wiggling her toes at the thought as the Marine down below gave a quick forward jerk of each ankle, and they went flying.
"Don't lose those either!" She scolded, and was none too surprised to find one of the audience members gratefully picking them up. "Members of our Studio Audience who happily participated are hereby awarded a free drink on the loser." she added at the final stroke. "Figure since the loser has to buy out the tabs, right? You don't mind do you?"
"Hey, stop changing the rules!" He sounded frustrated at first, and he kinda was... but damn, if he wasn't having the time of his fucking life.
"You changed them first, don't have a shit just cause I'm upping the stakes." Michelle added. That's when one of the Marines she noticed that was holding at her left arm started to reach for her hoodie. "Oh no you don't boyo... part of our bet. I don't loose the hoodie unless I lose."
For a while he just stood there, but Bill nodded. "It's true. We have a bet."
She grinned at him... a shit-eating grin like 'I told you so' before jerking her head in a sharp nod. "Sit your ass down... wait... itch..." tugging her arm free with a yank that surprised him as she scratched just under her chin... then, holding that same arm out. "Come on watch-dog... get back to work."
Arm restrained again, the Marine at her feet held her ankles out just enough that they were elevated at a slight angle. Size seven, very shapely and pretty, with a 'full bodied' figure that suited the rest of her. Besides prior claims though they didn't have a trace of sweat save for a mild dampness around where the straps wrapped about her foot, and smooth more than soft, from a great deal of time spent on hikes, climbing, or anything else she could enjoy without the confines of shoes. It didn't diminish their softness though as she gave her toes a partial wiggle, gleaning in a soft caramel cream color which was only a mild contrast to the chocolate mocha tone of her skin.
For a while it was all Bill seemed to notice, and it only broke his trance when Michelle interrupted his thoughts, suddenly announcing "Hey boy, you gonna get to work or give 'em a kiss... Thought we had a game here, and I'm fucking thirsty..."
"Alright, someone start the countdown here!" Bill announced, and the whole crowd seemed on board by now.
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!" They were almost louder than the music...
"TWO!" God... her chest was thumping... she tried looking straight ahead by now, attempting to hold her feet still, but her toes twitched nervously all the same.
"ONE!"
And that's when the countdown began. Unlike before, Bill wasn't seeming to want to waste this opportunity. He was quicker to map out the lay of the land as his nails--slightly shorter, and only barely felt--grazed along the underside of her toes, causing the woman to jolt and rotate in her seat.
He was cruising along the arches, watching the soft flail they gave outward which at first seemed like a dismissive wave, but the deeper down into the arch he managed, the more those toes splayed, almost caught up in their own response, or just plain shock... barely tugging an inch as the Marine actually looked to-at one point-be using a great deal of strength to keep her still... he even had to bring his shoulders up in a slight crouch to rest her calf muscles against before holding them down.
And Michelle was LIVID... Half her face contorted to crunching up, including the goofy, lopsided grin she gave... an almost inward whine squeaking out at one point in a slight drawn out "HNGHNNnnnnnnnnnnn!" as he started to transcend the arch into deeper territories. She was leaning heavily on one side... 'FUCK! Why are they ticklish? THEY SHOULD NOT BE THIS FUCKING SENSITIVE GOD-DAMNIT!' She professed to no one but herself as she even fell to burying her face against the man's shoulder.
"NO! Make sure she's not laughing!" One person shouted, and they all watched in eager anticipation now... a slight jump of her midsection, her feet rotating and jerking again before toes went spastic by the next upward stroke.
...Just a little further... he could even 'feel' her feet vibrating under her touch... the arch just one more--"TIME!" The crowd shouted.
Michelle just jerked forward with another gasp, and sagged a bit... not so much catching her breath as she was reeling from that tingly itch. "Sorry boyo!" She still had her voice, but it was soft for now, as though she were afraid to fully speak... "Told ya my feet aren't ticklish--too bad for yuuuuuu!" The last bit of her tone mocking, impersonating Gold Member from Austin Powers.
Everyone was laughing, including Bill as he gestured for another round.
"Oh it's not over yet."
But Michelle was already tipping her head back for another shot... and downed more than half a beer from a plastic cup before she gasped. "Son, this contest is already won."
(PART ONE)
