Katy & The Donald (Or How Katy Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Getting Tickled!)

Katy & The Donald (Or How Katy Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Getting Tickled!)



PREFACE

Ok, first off, there's a political element to this story so....now's the time to bail! You've been warned!

I wrote most of this in early 2017, and just dusted it off and finished it now. It was mostly a bunch of unrelated scenes and I just stuck 'em together, so don't mind any plot holes or loose ends. I've never written a fiction story, this is my first one. It came about because I had seen a clip from this interview with Katy Tur and Donald Trump (it's within the video below, you probably remember it, she's stammering and he's barking at her a bit)....and in my warped mind, it felt as if it could have turned into tickle taunting her.

THEN.....I happened to see THIS clip that somebody made and put up.

That cracked me up and I couldn't get away from it: these two had a little chemistry! A little amorous tension! It's so cute! As if they had little crushes on each other! (I'm not saying they actually did, I'm saying it looks like it, in these particular moments). And so I thought: let's get these two kids together!

(I also came across this hot heel-pop clip, that inspired an early part of the story.)

So began this tale that grew way longer than I had anticipated, mostly as a result of trying to connect all the different unrelated scenes together into a semi-coherent narrative. There's also a couple of homages in there, one pretty obscure and one not obscure.

I laughed my way through writing this, it was so much fun, this is as much a comedy piece as it is for our "thing". It's also very much a love story! I hope you not only find it to your liking as a partialist to tickling...but that you also have some good laughs....in fact maybe you'll even find it cathartic! I think both "sides" get burned, although I admit it's hard to make Trump into a romantic hero. You'll see what I mean, I think it works better this way. Anyways, not to be taken seriously! I've never really seen Katy Tur's work (she's on during the day, when I'm working) and what little I've seen of it, I'm not sure she's particularly like the person depicted in the story so ...it could just be a fictitious journalist named Katy, if that works for you. (the real Katy Tur got married shortly after the election, so it most definitely is a work of fiction!)

It's all to be taken as a goof. I'm not a Trump supporter, nor a fan of Tur. I pretty much steered clear of most of the controversial elements of the last few years. Recently someone here wrote a story here in which the writer's fantasy was to have a liberal girl's teeth removed so that she became a fellatio machine - and there was hardly a peep of protest about it - so I don't see how anyone here could have any quibbles with this much more benign piece of fiction.)

And so without any further ado, here's the story, a little something I like to call:

Katy & The Donald (Or How Katy Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Getting Tickled)

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"Oh please, Donald, don't!"

The President had his hands wrapped around Katy's waist like a belt, and he was tickling her. Again.

Ever since she had started meeting with him in private, hustled into hotel rooms, private estates and sometimes even to the White House itself, he had taken to disarming her with tickles soon after she'd arrive, often during her always-rehearsed speech that she had to stop meeting him like this, that she was there to interview him, that she was a professional. The ticklings had gone from flirty to frisky, and she found herself feeling skittish and defensive even hours after the ticklings.

Her protestations aside, by this point she was starting to surrender to the reality: she was going to be the President's media mistress. All intellectual reservations melted away when she was hit with the reality that this...thing, this great orange beast, this force of nature - was the most powerful man in the world, regardless of how he got there. And he always did it his way. Try as she might to resist, it - he - caused her to feel a mixture of conflicting feelings.

Case in point: she felt giddy when she was in his presence. There was something about him that would make her feel like a college girl flirting with her Daddy's obnoxious business partner, a kind of man of whom she'd have had nothing but ambivalence, even contempt....but now was suddenly attractive, a charming man with power, occupying the highest office in the land. He wasn't just a man, he was now "the" man...albeit one with a curious finger who somehow knew her body intuitively and kept her physically on the defensive. His playing around kept her feeling feminine, kept her feeling light and happy and giggly, pretty and desirable. As much as she tried to detest him and all he stood for, one finger was all it took to turn her into a giggling mess, promising anything, anything to make his tickling stop.

His habit of doing this had actually started during one of their most infamous public exchanges, though it was initially edited out for broadcast.

The interview had been wearing her down. He was just so nasty! Why did he have to be so nasty? He had been so sweet and gentlemanly moments earlier...but now that the camera was rolling, he was being combative, aggressive, dismissive....and she started to feel off her game. When he almost bit her head off with a particularly snide put-down, she started to actually get nervous.

"Um....with immigration...you say....." she fumbled with her papers, and Trump immediately barked back.

"Come on, get it out. You don't even know what you're talking about."

As she struggled to get the words out, the billionaire....or was it millionaire?... reached down, grabbed her ankle and slyly removed her shoe. She looked confusingly at him as she continued to stammer. What was he doing?

Pinching her toes, he began to taunt her: "Get it out, c'mon, you can do it."

The feel of him fiddling with her toes tickled and she started to giggle shyly, stirring in her seat at first, then holding her clipboard of questions up to her face, blocking her smiling, giggly mouth, with only her brown eyes, wide and wild, revealed.

The president smiled. "That's it." he sing-songed. "That's it, let it out, Katy."

"Stop it! I....can't!" she said, now audibly giggling.

"You can't? She can't." he said directly to the camera. "She can't get it out because I'm tickling her. "

"No, you're.....not." she hiccupped through giggles.

"I'm not? Well what do you call this?" He held her foot up to the camera for all to see, fingers still pinching around her toes..."You see, America.....little Katy, it appears here, is quite ticklish....right around here." He kept tickling around her toes. "You see that?.....deathly ticklish......and we need to show...the fake news....for what they are. Liars. Right, Katy?".

"Stop...please!" she giggled. He suddenly dragged his finger to the middle of her sole, hit a spot and she hitched forward, the giggles turning to outright laughter. Trump kept a firm grip on her ankle and brought in the rest of his fingers to work the center of her foot.

"Say you're a liar, Katy."

"Oh my god, stop it!"

"Katy.....say you're a liar....Say it! I'm not going to stop!"

"My foot!" she squealed, trying to grab it but falling back into her chair.

"Katy....." He started running the tips of his thumbs up and down the middle of her sole, a perversion of the traditional foot massage motion.....and that's what finally broke her.

"Oh my god, don't do that! Ok, I'm a liar, I'm a liar, just stop! Pleeeeease!" she shrieked before succumbing to hiccups of deep laughter.

At this a staffer rushed in, tugging on the candidate's arm, and murmuring some inaudible advisory. "Oh, please, I'm just having some fun, for chrissake." Trump groused, immediately relinquishing his grip, letting her foot loose. "Are you having fun, Katy?"

Highly embarrassed and panting, she couldn't believe that in the midst of trying to regain her composure, not to mention salvaging the interview, she actually blurted out: "It's ok, no problem....just having a bit of fun, no problem." Later Katy would reflect to herself that she hadn't withdrawn her foot once he let her go; she had let her leg - and her tortured foot - linger on his lap. Now why had she done that? She didn't have an answer.

"See? Katy's having fun. What's the big deal? Now of course they won't show this on TV because they don't want the world to know that one of their supposed ace reporters like Little Katy here is too ticklish to interview me, right?" He sprinkled one last tickle on the center of her still-there foot; she should have known he would.

Campaign staffers flooded the room and the room's energy got frenetic. "You'll have to go now", insisted a severe female, leaning in between Katy and Trump, "please get your things" ... and the staffer hustled her right the hell out of there.

As she was being hurried out, Katy turned around and stole one last look at him, standing around in profile, surrounded by all the would-be-President's men, being fussed over as if he was Michael Corleone. And maybe he was, who knows.

In the car ride back, she could still feel his hands running wildly all over her foot, and she kept slipping out of her shoe, rigorously rubbing the sole he had touched, trying to get the tickles out.

**************

"He knows I'm ticklish."

"What?! How does he know that?"

Her producer Jan had been looking down, reviewing copy as Katy told her about how the interview had gone. Now Jan was looking up at full attention. Katy didn't know what to say.

"He took my shoe off during the interview and started playing with my foot, and I......I couldn't help it, I started to laugh. I don't know.....he pounced on that right away. Now, whenever my questions get too tough, he, um...... uses that."

Jan looked aghast. "What do you mean he uses that?! You let him touch you?"

"I .....it' s like I can't get angry because he's making me laugh ....."

"Can't get angry? Katy, are you out of your mind?!"

"I.......I can't explain." Katy couldn't explain.

"Well, this is all very unprofessional, Katy, I don't even know what to think!"

"I....."

"Ok, don't say anything. Just don't say another word. I have to process what you just told me. This is outrageous."

Jan looked deeply perturbed and Katy thought she might lose her job, her career....everything she'd worked for. After a moment, however, Jan began tapping the end of her pen on the desk absentmindedly as she looked up into the air, as if she was going to pluck something out of it. The tapping got faster and faster and then she started nodding rigorously. Finally she spoke, and with a devilish glint in her eye.

"Maybe we can use this."

***************

"We're so sorry for what happened today....sometimes Mr. Trump gets excited and..."

Katy stared down at the speaker phone in the NBC conference room as the voice on the other end trailed off, leaving nothing but air hiss coming through. Another voice spoke up.

"What we're trying to say, Katy, is that....it was all just a misunderstanding."

Katy looked at her producer, who was sitting next to her.

"You mean it was all a misunderstanding that he picked up my foot and started tickling me?"

The aides started talking over each other.

"Oh no, Katy, that's not what I mean at all, it's just...."

"Mr. Trump likes you, Katy, he really does; I've never seen him take to a reporter like he's taken to you!"

Jan mouthed something, but Katy couldn't decipher it.

"Well, with all due respect to Mr. Trump and the campaign, I don't need him to take to me or even like me. I'm just a journalist, doing my job. And that was a serious breach of professionalism and obviously I'm going to have share this with my audience."

Suddenly the unmistakable voice of Kellyanne Conway's interjected over the speaker.

"Oh no, Katy, no...I don't think there's any need for that. Listen, how about this.....how would you like to have unlimited access to our next President...and instead of just a short fifteen minute interview, we can give you an hour, hmm? Just you and him. An exclusive!"

Katy chuckled. "Ok, so that what, so that he can put his hands on me again?"

"Oh no, Katy, you misunderstand....."

Katy and Jan put their hands over the mouths to stifle any laughter; Jan gave two thumbs up.

"Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you, ok?"

Conway sounded slightly relieved over the phone. "You do that sweetie. Anyway, this whole thing is really no big deal if you think about it. I mean.....you even said yourself, it was no problem, right? Listen....he tickles everybody."

"Oh really? He tickles Steve Bannon?"

"Um, no, not Steve Bannon but......he tickles alot of people. It's just his way."

"He's tickled you?"

"I'm not ticklish, dear."

Katy sighed. "Like I said, Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you."

"You do that. And I'll check his schedule and make sure we can squeeze you in ok?"

They looked down at the speakers as the phone line disconnected.

The usually hard-boiled, all-business Jan looked wide-eyed and elated. "We got him! We got the scoop!!!! Do you think you can do this?"

Underneath the table, Katy popped one heel out of her shoe. "I think so."


***********************

"Katy. I've been thinking about you."

There was no mistaking the voice of who was now the Republican candidate for President.

She thought for a second before answering. "I've been thinking about you too."

"I know" he answered and she had to roll her eyes before starting her pitch.

"I would like to interview you again. Give you a chance to get your side of the story out. No gotcha questions."

Trump laughed. "No gotcha questions, huh? Well, if there are gotcha questions, I'm gonna "gotcha" you, you know what I mean, Katy? Know what I mean."

Not taking the bait, she assured him there would be no gotcha questions. After he agreed she perked up "Good! I'm looking forward to it!"

"I'll have Reince contact you. You remember Reince, don't you Katy?"

She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head.

"Listen" he continued, " my people tell me I have to swing by NBC soon, to tidy up some old Apprentice business. We'll do the interview there, I know how you liberals hate to leave New York." Katy laughed.

"Actually I'm based in DC, but whatever; I will meet you where ever you tell me"

"I know you will, Katy. I know you will." the candidate replied.

*********************
True to his word, Trump showed up at the appointed time and Katy conducted a mildly combative - but comparatively tame - interview with him for a full hour. MSNBC ran the entire conversation live.

After the interview, she borrowed someone's desk to check her email and Twitter account; she wanted to publicly thank him for giving her so much time. She didn't realize it consciously but as she typed she must have popped her foot out of her shoe, something she did routinely, but the result being that her sole would be exposed to anyone who came from behind. Wouldn't this be her luck but none other than the Donald himself happened to round the corner. Spying the pretty reporter from behind, one foot out of her shoe and oblivious to his approach, he reached down under her chair and scooped up three fingertips, dancing them on the middle of her exposed sole. She gasped.

"Gotcha again, heh heh."

Katy looked up to see his big orange mug leering down at her.

"Oh my god, you scared me."

"Still ticklish, huh? You liberals are so sensitive!"

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I think the interview went very well, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think it did too! See what a good journalist can bring out of you?" she smiled.

Before he could answer, a production assistant popped in and informed Katy that she was wanted on set right away. "The panel is discussing your interview, and they want to get your impressions."

"I'll be right there." She slipped her shoe back on and stood up but Trump grabbed her arm.

"Wait a second, wait a second....don't go...."

Katy looked down at his gentle grip on her arm. "I have to go, I'm needed on set." But the candidate wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Listen, I want to see you again. I really liked our chemistry and I'd like to get to know you better. You know many people want to see me, this could turn out very well for you."

"Let go of my arm, I'm needed on set, we'll talk about this another time."

"Give me your phone number. Please. I don't take no for an answer!"

"Donald, seriously, this is not professional."

He kept his grip on her arm but arched his fingers and started moving them slightly, working his way up her arm. The further up he went, the more she realized his aim was probably her armpit, and she was getting more ticklish with each inch.

"Ok, ok, look, here's my number, I have to go." She fished out a business card out of her bag and handed it to him. He held the card with both hands, looking at it proudly as if it was a Willy Wonka golden ticket. She felt oddly touched by his unabashed joy at scoring her phone number.

"I have to go now" and she was off. She rushed through makeup for a quick touch up and made it to the panel before the end of the next commercial break.

"We're joined now by Katy herself who conducted the interview. So Katy, I see the Donald was prowling around the studio after your interview!

"Yes, he was. In fact, he actually tickled me just now."

"What?"

Nodding and smiling to the rest of the panel, wide eyed and oblivious to their reactions she continued. "Yeah, he came up and tickled me...."

The panel looked uncomfortable.

" It was so weird.....I was sitting on the break, and he must have seen me from behind. And I had my ...my foot out of my shoe....you know what I mean? I had absentmindedly slipped out of my shoe. And he must have seen my foot and so he bent down and....tickled it." Katy started to blush.

"Oh my god, what did you do?"

"I almost jumped out of my seat!".

Flustered and flabbergasted, with a producer shouting into her earpiece to change the subject, the host said "Ok, moving on.....today in Brussels......"

*************************
"Tickled By Trump!" blared the headlines the next day, and for a short eternity Katy thought she was about to be thrust into the spotlight of a never-ending public scandal. But the headlines were quickly replaced by ones about Trumps latest tweetstorm. And then that story was replaced by something Trump said disparagingly about the 92-year old actress Betty White, and within a day or two, the "Tickled By Trump" scandal faded fast from the public discourse.

It didn't stop him from bringing it up at rallies, however, and it led to some truly frightening scenes for her.

"Kaaaaaaaty!"

The Republican candidate was at the podium onstage, bellowing her name. The crowd was going crazy.

"Something's happening here, Katy, something magical!"

The crowd whooped and cheered. A "Maga-moron" (as she privately called them) turned and shouted towards the press cage: "Yeah, something magical! You hear that?"

Trump continued. "Of course, something happens with Katy too. I think some of you know what I'm talking about. When you touch her. See, she doesn't want you people to know that but the truth is that Little Katy back there, Little Tough Katy from the Fake News is extremely, extremely ticklish. Unbelievably ticklish. What do you think of that?"

Katy's stomach dropped as the crowd whooped and cheered louder than they had throughout the entire rally, the biggest response yet. And the crowd would not stop cheering. Trump rode the wave and shouted over them: "She's ticklish! Go figure! She can't take being touched! What is that?"

Katy looked around and to her mortification all eyes were on her. People were shouting out things she couldn't make out; others were pointing at her, mockingly. Trump continued his tirade.

"All I did was tickle her a little bit and the fake news has a fit, can you believe that? Tickling! Unbelievable. What has the world come to?"

The rabble whooped and hollered and they were getting more and more unruly. This didn't stop Trump.

"I tickled her! Big deal! So sue me! "

Katy wanted to crawl under a rock, and there were no signs that he was going to stop. If anything, the reaction of the mob spurred him to even more outrageous comments.

"You go up to a beautiful woman and say coochy coochy, next thing you know you're in trouble, it's ridiculous!"

All of a sudden, out of the cheering came a chant, a high pitched chant, distant at first, but gaining in intensity until the entire crowd taunting her by chanting "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!" all in shrill high falsetto so that they sounded like mad birds. "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!"

"And there she is!" Trump bellowed, pointing to the press cage.

Everywhere she turned, people in red MAGA hats were closing in, getting nearer and nearer, their hands held up like claws, wiggling their fingers at her, miming tickling motions. They seemed half-crazed and as she scanned the faces she saw men with mustaches, young guys with crew cuts, soccer moms, elderly people, eyes wide and crazed, all seemingly threatening to tickle her to death.

"Kaaaaaaty!" Trump was bellowing again. "Kaaaaaaty! They're coming to get you, Katy!"

"They're going to breach the press cage!" someone yelled.

"Let's get outta here!" shouted her cameraman, and they made a hasty retreat to the NBC van, with the male reporters forming a human shield around her. It didn't stop the crowd trying to get at her, some of them leaping and lunging in, fingers wiggling, but to no avail. "You're getting tickled, honey. Let me at her!" she heard one elderly voice say, a female one at that. "Ticklish liberal!" shouted one gruff male voice periodically, as if punctuating the ongoing "coochy coochy" refrain. Finally the crew guys cleared a space and she could see the open door. "Get in!" her colleague shouted.

Once inside the van, Katy's heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to jump out of her body. No one had managed to lay a finger on her.....yet her entire body felt electric and on edge, hyper aware of itself. When she analyzed it later, she realized it was a body preparing itself to be touched.

"Are you ok?" somebody asked and she nodded silently. She was shell shocked. "Driver, floor it!" she heard another voice say, and the vehicle roared into action and was quickly safely on the road, further and further away from the danger.

As she sat in the back, she struggled with two sets of conflicting emotions: at first there was anger at how she was made into a prop for his rally. She had fear for her safety and relief that she had made it out unscathed. But as her mind came back to Earth, she began to recognize a primal feeling within her, one that she was trying to suppress. She realized it was curiosity.....what would it have felt like? Would she have laughed? She could still feel the lust of the crowd; all these people wanted to touch her, to tickle her. She knew that it had little to do with the fact that she was supposedly a "liberal" or part of "the media".....it had to do with the fact that she was pretty. She felt coveted and desirable. And she hated herself for what she had to acknowledge: at a safe distance, the whole idea of it turned her on; not the reality, but the idea of it.

**************************************************
She might have had mixed feelings privately, but to Trump she was unambiguous.

"Donald, how could you?!!! You want to answer that for me please?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. He'd called to check up on her, but had sheepishly danced around the elephant in the room.

"Donald, that was very scary for me! That was very irresponsible! Somebody could have gotten killed! Is that what you want? Do you want somebody killed?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." He sounded contrite.

Katy was livid, but felt she had given him an earful for the past fifteen minutes. Wrapping it up, she struck a conciliatory tone; after all, he was not a friend, he was the subject of her reporting.

"Listen....I know you're new to all this, you're new to politics, and that you want to do the right thing. But you have to be careful in what you say, and how you say it. Especially in the polarized political climate we're living through. Ok? I'm not mad, it was just scary and please, don't single me out, don't bring any extra attention to me than you already have. Ok?"

Trump was silent on the other line and for a moment she thought he might have hung up. "Donald? You still there?"

"I want to give you full access, Katy."

Katy laughed.

"Yeah, what, so that you can tickle my feet some more? Thanks, Donald, I've already got access, I'm assigned to your campaign, remember? Your followers scare me. I don't know if I can take more access. I'm all for covering Trumpworld but, you know...maybe that's a world one needs a little distance from, you know what I mean?"

Trump sighed. "I know what you mean, they get carried away...."

"Yeah, well you push their buttons."

"Well...that's what I do, I'm a button pusher, you know that. I push your buttons, I push their buttons....I get people riled up, I make them laugh, I make them squirm in their seat.....it's good! It's good for business. Anyway, its all going to be over soon, Katy, I promise. What's important is that you and me, we don't let stuff like this get in the way."

"Get in the way of what?"

Trump sighed wearily.

"Katy....I'm offering you full access. All the access you want. What else can I do? You can come and go as you please, you can do whatever it is you do, write a book, blab on TV, I don't care. Now maybe I'm crazy but that sounds like a pretty good deal to me."

"No more talking about me at rallies?"

"No more talking about you at rallies, that's fair."

"And no more tickling me. "

"Oh stop it, I'm not going to promise that. I already said I won't talk about you, and I won't. Now you want to set all these other conditions, what I can say, what I can do, no this, no that, no touching, no tickling. I'm a sensual person, Katy, you'll find that out. Besides, if you're honest with yourself, I think you kind of like it. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself. Full access, take it or leave it. Now what's it going to be?"

Katy was taken aback, but she was no dummy; she mulled it over for a few quick seconds and then flatly answered: "Full access."

Trump sounded relieved. "I'm very happy to her you say that, Katy. Very happy. I'll have my people handle all the necessary arrangements."

**************************************************

"I've got full access to him. I can come and go anytime I want, as long as I want, ask any question, he's given me carte blanc. The only stipulation is no cameras."

Jan was thunderstruck.

"Are you kidding me? Full access? Do you know what this means? You can write the definitive book on the campaign! Maybe even the Presidency!"

Katy burst out laughing. "The Presidency? Him? Yeah, right!"

**************************************************

They met a couple of times a week, and the sessions got flirtier and flirtier. She resisted at first but as time went on, she just went with it, especially the more apparent it became that he had no chance of winning the election. Guys had been tickling her throughout her whole life, she didn't know what it was all about but what was one more guy?

Still, it could throw her off when she was trying to be serious. If he got bored with the interview or didn't like a question, he'd invariably start back up with his old routine, removing her shoe and doing a kind of version of "this little piggy", tugging at her digits.

For instance, as soon as she started asking him about his relationship with Vladmir Putin, he threw his hands up, announced "Suit yourself, Katy!" grabbed her ankle and removed her shoe, placing her foot in his lap. "Ok, what's the question?"

"Ok, very funny, now put down my foot."

"Ask the question!"

She sighed. She knew what was coming but pressed on. "You're very friendly with Putin and..... "

He pinched her toe; she squealed and lurched forward, giggling. Smiling, and trying to manage her ticklishness, she tried to continue.

"You mean you're not?"

He started kneading the pads of her toes with his thumb and forefinger.

"Donald!" she shrieked, laughing, "Stop it! I'm just asking about the....."

His fingers started pinching in between her toes and she instantly melted. "Oh please, stop! Ok! Ok! You got me!" she squealed, hyperventilating with girlish laughter. "Next question! Next question!"

The Donald grinned and sat back, he had won. He kept a gentle grasp of her ankle, however, and gave her foot a firm squeeze, which felt warm and comforting. Katy smiled, caught her breath, and continued.

"Do you think that.......eek!....let me ask the question!"

**************************************************

She admitted she found him cute in old photos. "You were so handsome!"

Puffing out his chest and jutting out his chin without a shred of self-awareness, he proudly proclaimed "I still am!"

Scanning the bloated blotchy septuagenarian, she raised her eyebrows and mustered as much sincerity as she could manufacture: "Of course you are"

"You know Katy, I'm not usually attracted to American women. But you're different."

"Well that makes me feel special, Donald." she said flatly. "Don't you think your supporters resent you didn't take an American for a wife?"

"Katy, these people are so frightened of the Spanish language, I can say and do anything as long as they think I'm going to build a big cement wall on the border." He winked at her...then snickered like Renfield.

**************************************************

The Access Hollywood tape came out and Katy was revolted. Is this how Trump talked about her behind closed doors? Katy sensed this was to be the final nail in the coffin for his campaign and when he called to invite her to see his New Jersey golf course, she declined. Thinking no one would be too interested in all her reporting after Hillary became the first woman President, she enjoyed just going through the motions, showing up at rallies and being a talking head on cable news panels, giving her two cents. Election Day '16, and with it the country's first woman President, was coming like a speeding locomotive; it would all be over soon.

But things turned out very different.

**************************************************

She hadn't seen him since the election. When she walked into his suite, the mood was frenetic and happy.

"Katy! I told you I'd win!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know" she nodded, admitting the new reality.

"Even you voted for me, didn't you! Hillary didn't have Little Katy to save her." he mocked.

Katy laughed along. "No, Donald, I did not vote for you, I...."

"You didn't vote for me? Oh that does it..." He reached forward with both hands and started touching her midsection.

"Donald, don't!" she warned, smiling. She tried to back away but she was in a corner.

"Why didn't you vote for me?"

"Because!" she giggled.

"Because what?" he demanded, his fingers motoring away over her blouse, grazing her ticklish belly.

"Stoooop!", she laughed, trying to slap his hands away but barely tapping, weakened as she was by the warm, giddy sensation tickling across her stomach.

"You look beautiful when you get tickled, did you know that?"

Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, I didn't know that. Oh my god, you have to stop!"

"Not until you say I'm going to be the greatest President ever." He started pinching at her sides. Her voice jumped two octaves as her laughter intensified.

"Donald, please!" she squealed.

"Say I'm going to be the greatest President ever!"

"All right, all right, you're going to be the greatest President ever! Just stop, pleeeease!" she begged.

"Ok, ok. I'll give you a break." He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a chair. She sat down and caught her breath while he took a seat opposite her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, and for a moment, he just looked at her, pretty and in peace. Arrows of pleasure were shooting through her body; he'd never tickled her upperbody before; with her eyes closed she savored each deep calm breath she was now able to take, and she let herself feel serene.

"You exhaust me, Donald." she sighed, smiling, her eyes still closed.

"What can I say, I know how to get you."

"I guess I should congratulate you on your win."

"Well...aren't you?"

She fluttered open her eyes and met his. They looked at each other for a long electric moment.

"Congratulations, Donald. Mr. President" she said softly. He nodded gently.

"So what are you going to do now that you've won? I see you're on top of this crowd size business."

Trump furrowed his brow. "I suppose you think that's a small thing?"

"It was a small thing! Why are you wasting your energy on the crowd size at your inauguration?"

"Oh let's not talk about that. Why talk about that when we could talk about you? You know you looked very beautiful just now, Katy, I love seeing you all giggly like that."

"Oh really?" she replied incredulously.

"That's right. Getting to see you laugh like that.....it's a beautiful thing."

"Hmmm. I thought you liked 'liberal tears'."

"I like liberal laughter better." he said, leaning over and starting to play with her thighs.

"No, Donald, not again", she panicked before jerking forward as he squeezed her leg, and liberal laughter is exactly what he got.

"See you hate me....but you have to laugh."

"I don't.....hate you!" she sputtered before the laughing overtook her.

"Yeah you do." he said calmly as she went crazy in her seat, trying to get his hands off her.

"No I don't, please, I promise! I promise!!!" she shrieked, but the President wouldn't stop.

"Prove it, Katy."

It took a moment for her to finish her jag of laughing before she could get enough breath to respond. "Ok! Ok! You got me!"

"I said prove you don't hate me, Katy. I know I got you!"

Another long jag of laughing. "Ok, ok, how? How do I prove it to you?" she giggle-whimpered, like a new puppy.

"Give us a kiss, Katy." He stepped up the squeezing which really drove her up the wall with a full unbridled laugh that conveyed he'd hit a sweet spot.

"Ok! Ok! Just stop!"

He squeezed some more. "You won't renege on me will you?"

"I promise, I promise!" she screamed with urgency. "I'll kiss you! I'll kiss you! Just stoooop!" she buckled over and after a few more seconds, he relented.

She straightened up, huffing and puffing, and feeling very skittish just sitting next to him, feebly holding her hands up in defense, her body twisted as far away from him as she could get, trembling in anticipation of another attack. "Ok, ok, let me just catch my breath." she panted. She couldn't believe he'd just tickled her so much. But now that he'd stopped, she felt high on endorphins, her whole body felt alive and electric. she felt wanted and desired.....she felt extremely sexy.

She surprised him and even herself when, after recovering her composure, she took a deep breath, leaned forward and close to his mouth said in her sultriest voice: "You like liberal laughter, huh? How about a liberal kiss...." and pressed her lips against his.

He was at first taken aback, but she could feel him smile and then he kissed back passionately, taking her in his arms. As she kissed him she felt giddy inside as the same words kept racing through her mind, excitedly: "He was just tickling me; he was just tickling me! I'm kissing my tickler! I'm kissing my tickler!"

As if reading her mind, he began to pet her body, and as his hand lightly grazed her side, she giggled coquettishly through the kiss.

"Careful." she cooed, "You know I'm ticklish." She winked at him seductively. Then she kissed him again.

**************************************************

Of course, Katy kept all this from Jan.

"Have you gotten any closer to finding out about this Russia thing? Is he really going to build the wall? And what the hell is he so worried about crowd size for? What does he do all day?"

"I....I don't know yet." Katy didn't know yet.

"Don't know yet? Don't know yet? Katy, what have you been doing in there?"

Katy knew she was in the hot seat. "It's very complicated, he's very hard to crack."

Jan got right to the point. "Is he tickling you again?"

Katy looked away from Jan. "No, he's not."

**************************************************

Shy in her pink slip, Katy had an instinct this time that she was going to get it. After all the months of build-up she knew he now had what he had been chasing, what he wanted: her. Tonight there would be no aides, no handlers, and he'd have her all to himself. He had asked her to stay over, and to wear the sexiest bedwear she had. As she stepped into his bedroom, she looked around and didn't see him. "Donald?" she called out.

All of a sudden, he came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, going for the sneak attack. She immediately tried to buckle forward and shrieked with laughter. As she tried to contain the unrelenting tickles of his ten independent fingers probing her midsection, her hands resting on top of his, unable to stop him, he cooed into her ear "I've been waiting to do this a long time, Katy....a long time." As she struggled and writhed (to no avail) he let his nose trail her long neck and drink in the scent of her perfume.

"Poor Katy.....poor ticklish Katy....." she was now in a deep, deep laughing jag, eyes squeezed shut, practically limp, the fight out of her, held up by the tickling hands probing her stomach.

Finally she shrieked: "Get your stubby little hands off of me!" That was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"Stubby? Stubby? Oh, that's it, you're in trouble now."

He sunk his fingers into the creases of her armpits and tickled. He quickly worked his way in until she was practically being held up by his tickling fingers.

"Are they still stubby?"

She was hysterical. "No they're not stubby, they're not stubby! They're regular hands, they're regular hands!"

He dug in even deeper and tickled faster. "No, they're not regular hands, they're BIG hands, do you understand? Big hands. BIG!"

Katy was in silent laughter, her eyes squeezed tight, she just shook her head as in slow motion, and kept mouthing the word "no no, no". After a short eternity of this, she suddenly shrieked "Oh my god, stop!"

"Big hands Katy! C'mon now, you know what to say!"

"Big hands" she gasped, no sound coming out. "You got big hands."

"Louder!"

Katy tried again, then tried harder. Finally she screamed out in full laughter....."You've got big hands! You've got big hands, Donald!"

"That's right. Big, bigly, tickly hands. And I got the itchy fingers for you, Katy. So look out!"

"I will! I will! Oh my god, someone please help!"

"Raaaaaah!" the President roared like a monster, leaned back and lifted Katy off the floor. Completely conquered, she kicked her legs into the air as if that would somehow get her away from his hands. He pivoted his body and deposited the ticklish journalist on his bed where, exhausted, she caught her breath.

"Whew...that may be the most I've ever been tickled, Donald. That's a workout!"

Panting from his own physical exertion, he replied: "It was a workout for me, too." She looked up at him and saw that he was beet red and sweaty.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah...let me go take a Lipitor", he said, walking into the bathroom. "It's not easy tickle torturing you! Good times!"

**************************************************

Later that night, at the President's request, Katy went under the sheets. So this was it, she thought, it didn't get more intimate than this. As she journeyed down, she didn't know what to expect.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he called down to her.

At first the view was just a mound of gut.....literally a horizon of fat. She craned her neck to look under the hanging belly, and her eyebrows furrowed. All she saw was the sheet underneath. Looking up at him unsure, he gave a solemn nod.

She gently put both hands under the crease of the fat and gently lifted. Her eyes darted around, frantically.

"Katy? I said isn't it beautiful?"

All of a sudden she saw it, in the shadow of the undergut. The first analogous image that came to her mind was a mushroom. The next was a balloon knot.

"I......"

"Lots of women, lots of very fine women, they love me for it, you know."

"Er.....yes, Donald."

"Leave it alone for the moment, we'll come back to that later. I just wanted you to get a sneak peek, I know how important that is to women."

Stunned and reeling, she couldn't muster up a reply to that one. She settled for a distant "uh-huh". She almost felt sorry for him and thought about the old wives' tale: small hands, small penis. Those old wives were sure on to something, she thought. She came back up and he kissed her on the forehead.

"What I want to do now is please you. Would you like that?"

Katy was shocked. For some reason, she had figured it was to be all about his pleasure, not hers. Before she could answer, the bed frame began squeaking and rocking as the Commander-in-Chief - currently an undressed tub-of-lard, if she wanted to be honest - struggled to turn over. Now she was on her back, the President looming over her.

"Katy....I'm on top of you now."

"Yes, Donald, I know."

The President leaned down and started kissing her neck passionately. She could feel his tongue swirling around her neck which made her nose wrinkle and she stifled the urge to laugh. Her breathing got deeper and deeper as he started moving down her body. He started to kiss her chest and suckle her nipples. She couldn't believe this was really happening.

The President played with her boobies for a while but then slowly started to kiss down towards her stomach. The kissing started to tickle the further down he went but she didn't want him to know. Unfortunately she couldn’t hide it very well and her breathing - and her squirms - must have betrayed something because he started to go slower and even slower and more deliberate on each part, as if looking for a hint, a gasp, a flinch, a quiver, inch by inch, lips, breath, tongue swirls, making it more excruciating, making sure every inch teased and tickled her to the maximum. She kept letting out quiet little gasps, her breathing shallow, her hands reacting involuntarily, touching his head, she was being driven up the wall. He definitely knew what he was doing to her, even though she was praying he didn’t. Don't laugh, she kept telling herself, and he won’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know. Don't laugh, just don't laugh. Oh my god, that tickles so much.....

Then he stopped! He came to a complete standstill and just hovered contemplatively, lingering his lips around her belly button. She could feel his breath spilling over her stomach and all she could do was hold hers when he did it, it was maddening. She wasn’t sure what was coming and was just trying not to lose it. He would hold his breath, and so she'd hold hers in anticipation. When he finally let his breath spill out, her exhale would be shaky, and full of little gasps. This went on and on, slower and slower, longer and longer, it seemed like an eternity, he would just inhale –hold it….and she'd wait for him to exhale. Then he would, slowly, wisps of breath running all over her smooth stomach and she’d quiver, both her body and her breath.

And then….there was a long point of nothing, not even hot breath, he just hovered there, she almost thought he had fallen asleep… Did he not like her anymore?......Was he a slumbering lion...... was he a lion in wait?

She found out because finally - suddenly - he took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, plunged his head down, burying his face in her belly….and blew. A giant exploding buzzing raspberry all over her stomach, something she was not expecting, he had never done that before. Katy absolutely screamed with absolute laughter, her eyes squeezed shut as if concentrating on the spot would make it any more bearable. (It didn't). The sensation was explosive and electric, his lips buzzing and tickling, blowing and violently shaking his head into her stomach. She was caught, totally trapped and frantic, her hands grasping the sides of his head while she tried to get him to stop blowing. Unfortunately for Katy, he had her good and she couldn’t get away, all she could do was surrender, her hands weaving all around his head, his lips vibrating all over her navel....and Trump just blew and blew and blew. After a minute, he reached up, pinned her wrists to the bed and started nibbling on her sides. She went hysterical.

Finally he did stop and the laughter was dying away as he looked up at her with a devilish, mischievous look, completely proud at what he'd just done.... and then he plunged his head down below her waist, suckling her clitoris and making her feel floods of ecstasy. Her, the one he had just tickled half to death! It was her present, she told herself. It was her present for getting tickled, as if tickling her had made him want her even more. The tickly vibrations were still all over her tummy and shooting through her body as his tongue swirled around, and she came faster than she ever had in her life. As he came back up, she kissed him, and had to admit: "Well played, Mr. President."

**************************************************

Wrapped in a sheet, Katy reclined against the headboard, her long bare leg jutting out from under the covers. It was morning, and Trump was already half dressed, standing at the end of the bed. As he talked on the phone, bossing someone around, he reached down and tickled her foot, causing her to gasp as she snatched it back from his fingers. He grinned satisfied.

"Yeah yeah yeah....just do it!" he barked impatiently into the phone and abruptly hung up. Turning his attention to his paramour, he sighed. "So....what should we do today?"

Katy laughed. "What should we do today? You're the President! Don't you have work to do?"

Trump started shaking his head as he buttoned up his shirt. "Nah, nah.....'executive time', sweetheart.....I can do whatever I want."

**************************************************

Unfortunately sharing a bed with the President was no bed of roses. Literally. He spent his sleeping hours farting the night away, the only thing that could interrupt his howling death-wheeze-of-a-snore. Once she was so repulsed from his nighttime habits that she slipped out of the bed. She was at the window when she heard him call out in his sleep, "Katy...Katy where are you?"

She looked back at his moonlit silhouette......he looked like a beached whale in boxer shorts. The snores subsided and he looked peaceful. For a moment she had empathy for this man and the unimaginable weight of the world he carried on his shoulders. The responsibility to lead and care for millions. For billions. All under the microscope of critics who are just waiting for you to fail. Was she one of those critics? She felt guilty. Everyone deserves love, she thought to herself.

All of a sudden a squealing wet fart twisted out of the President's asscheeks and a satisfied smile broke out on his face. "Take that, America." he chuckled to himself, rolling over....

**************************************************

Sometimes the President could be reflective. During one of the interviews, one in which he was showing her around one of his hotels, she decided to broach some touchy subjects, ones that people were starting to whisper about around Washington. Instead of denying everything, Katy was surprised at what he chose to remember about them.

"Ok, let me just throw some names at you. Stormy Daniels."

"Not ticklish."

"Karen McDougal."

"Extremely ticklish!"

Katy felt a tinge of jealousy. "What about.....me?"

Trump smiled.

"You? You deserve to be ticklish and you are. There's justice in how ticklish you are. What goes around comes around, Fake News." He gave her a friendly poke to the side.

Seeing that he was in an open mood about this particular subject, she decided to delve further.

"Ok, so tell me.....what is this whole tickling thing about anyway? What's the fascination?"

"Well......you know, Katy, I used to be into women's breasts, that was very big back in the day. Very big. But when you've seen one pair, you've seen 'em all. And believe me...I've seen 'em all. No, I discovered what was sexy about tickling pretty girls such as Karen and yourself through listening to my friend Howard Stern. His radio show. Do you know Howard? Oh he'd be very impressed with you. Very impressed. Let me call him and arrange a......"

"No, that's ok, I.."

"I could get him to...."

"No, Donald, really, I....."

"BABABOOEY!" he suddenly thundered gleefully. "BABABOOEY! FA-FA-FLUNKY! TA-TA-TOOTHY!"

Katy stood there frozen, not knowing exactly what to do.

"Ma-ma-monkey! Oh, I love that show. You know, I wanted to appoint him to the Supreme Court but they wouldn't let me."

The President marched out the room abruptly, shouting out once more: "Bababooey!" then laughing to himself, shaking his head. "That Howard!" An aide suddenly rushed up to her. "The President was just joking, he never considered such an appointment, this conversation never happened. You're going to have to leave now."

**************************************************

Sometimes he could almost seem romantic. Almost. One night, he invited her over to the White House and when she got to his room, she saw it was to be a dinner for two. As they sat at the candlelit table, she felt like a princess. For a long while they just looked at each other, smiling and eating very slowly. Finally he broke the silence.

"Do you like music, Katy? Would you like to hear my favorite song?"

Touched at his sincerity she gazed into his eyes, gently nodding with a flirty "mmm-hmm".

The President got up from his chair, walked to the shelf unit and searched through a pile of compact discs, all out of their cases. Suddenly - and surprisingly - it was Spanish dance music that came blaring out of the speakers, a recording that featured what sounded like a small chorus of middle-aged men and a high pitched female voice. It took Katy a minute to place the song.

"Is this......"

"That's right, Katy! It's the Macarena! Isn't it great?"

Caught up in the moment, the President began dancing and Katy sat there, dumbstruck at the sight. The only way she could think to describe it was something akin to the Snoopy dance crossed with Michael Madsen's boogie during the torture scene in "Reservoir Dogs". At one point he started waving his arms to the side, as if he were a hula girl. A moment later had him holding up his two pointer fingers and shaking them like maracas.

"Oh, I love this song!"

Slightly disappointed, the mood broken, Katy shouted over the din: "I thought you were going to play something a little more romantic!"

"This IS romantic!" Trump continued with his dance and shut his eyes with a peaceful grin on his face. After the song faded out, his eyes fluttered open as if awakening from a dream and he shook his head, while sitting down at the table. "They sure don't make 'em like that anymore."

Amused, Katy slipped one foot out of her shoe and poked his shin with her toe. "I would have thought you'd play something more from your generation. The Beatles, some Motown, maybe Frank Sinatra." The President shook his head, dismissively.

"Nope. I like to listen to what the young people like."

"Well.....I don't really think young people listen to the Macarena, Donald."

"No, they do."

Katy laughed; she knew she wasn't going to win this argument.

"What about the fact that it's a Spanish song? I thought you didn't like Spanish people."

"That song is in English."

Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, that's the English version of a Spanish song!"

"Oh, so you want to laugh at me huh? I'll give you something to laugh at!", he declared, reaching under the table for her ankles which kept eluding his grasp.

"Not when I'm eating." she said, laughing at his fumbling.

"That song is in English."

"Ok, Donald, that song is in English." she rolled her eyes.

"Very good", the President grinned, picking up his cutlery. "I love an easy win."


**************************************************

Other food encounters were less charming.

"Mmmrmph. Mmmmrph. MMMM!" The President was sprawled out on his bed, wolfing down a McDonalds value meal, smacking his lips, with a ketchup puddle right about his chin.

"You....you have ketchup on your face."

"Where, here?" He started touching his face, missing the spot every time.

"No, on your chin."

"Here?"

"No, your chin. Your chin, Donald."

"Here?" he pointed to his lower cheek.

She sighed, exasperated. "Here, I'll do it." She leaned over and dabbed the ketchup. Seeing him with food all over his mouth, his dirty, greasy napkin sloppily tucked over his shirt collar, he looked like an overgrown baby eating it's first birthday cake.

"I'm telling you, Katy, sometimes I just get a Big Mac Infection."

She did a double-take. "A Big Mac Infection? I think they actually call it a Big Mac Atta...."

"Katy, don't start....please.....I have this argument all the time with people, it's called a Big Mac Infection, all right?"

Katy started to laugh. "Donald......it's called a Big Mac Attack. See? It even rhymes, get it?"

"THEY CALL IT A BIG MAC INFECTION!" he bellowed. " A FUCKING BIG MAC INFECTION! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? KELLY! MATTIS! GET IN HERE!"

All of a sudden the Department of Defense and the Chief of Staff came scurrying in like dutiful minions, their heads down as if this was the royal court of Henry VIII.

"Get her out of here so I can eat in peace."

As they hurried her out without so much as a goodbye, she looked back. Trump was chewing on his meat sandwich with a contemplative scowl. "They call it a Big Mac Infection..." he muttered to himself, annoyed. Grimacing, he leaned over to one side to open up a cheek, and squeezed out a buzzy, tortured fart. After the gas was all out, he continued chewing what was in his mouth.

**************************************************

"You remember Katy don't you, Ivanka? Ticklish little Katy?" he took his stubby thumb and forefinger and pinched Katy's waist, making her flinch and roll her eyes in embarrassment.

Ivanka gave a cool nod of her head. "Nice to meet you. We'll have to go shopping sometime, get to know who my father is dating these days." Ivanka winked and smiled.

"Why don't you do it now, my little lovelies? I have some meetings with some very big people, very big. Fantastic people, you wouldn't believe it."

An aide walked in. "Mr. President, Rinat Akshetan has just arrived."

"See what I mean? Have fun, girls!"

Thunderstruck, Katy opened her mouth to speak, but Ivanka grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on girlfriend! Shopping time!"

**************************************************

"Do you like this?" Katy held up a slinky little grey dress for Ivanka's consideration.

"Oh cuuute!"

"It is cute. I'm going to try it on."

"I'll come help you zip up the back."

"No that's ok I...."

"Don't be silly!"

As soon as they were in the changing room, Ivanka spun Katy around, pushed her into the corner and pressed her lips against Katy's. "Oh my god, you're so pretty." Ivanka moaned as she kissed. Katy kissed back, and their arms intertwined, reveling in the softness of each other's skin. That is until Ivanka started nuzzling Katy's neck, her hands blindly trying to unbutton the reporter's blouse, nails grazing her bare tummy. Katy giggled.

"Oh my god, you are ticklish. My father wasn't lying!" Ivanka gave Katy's bare tummy a quick spidering, causing Katy to eep.

"Shhh! You're going to get us caught." Ivanka warned.

Katy and the first daughter kissed in the changing room while outside the door, two secret service agents in sunglasses stood staring straight ahead, expressionless. Every once in a while a giggle or a squeal would emerge.

Inside and wrapped in a lip lock, Katy managed to whisper "What about your husband? What about Jared?"

"Oh God, Jared's such a wimp and a bore. I never should have married him. It's complicated."

Ivanka reached into her purse, pulled out a little bottle. "Look what I got from one of my father's friends! You can't get this brand anywhere, you have to go out of the country to get it!" Katy looked at the bottle.

"Vodka?"

**************************************************

Ivanka and Katy held hands as they walked under the moonlight on the south lawn of the White House.

"Won't someone see us?"

"It's fine. We can do whatever we want here." Ivanka's voice was soft and sing-songy. "Hi, Daddy!"

Katy looked up to see the President presiding over them on the Truman Balcony, beaming with affection.

"That's what I like to see, girls" he called out " Two of my favorite, sexiest women...."

"Daddy!"

"...getting along like sisters. Good night, my darlings." At that he blew them a kiss, grinned and ambled back inside, leaving them with the distant sound of a single-blast fart, like a bullfrog croaking in the distance.

Ivanka turned to Katy, eyes full of pity "Daddy does that a lot, sorry...."

"Yeah, I noticed..."

"Hey! Let's go see what Hope is doing!" She whispered conspiratorially..."Hope is sooooo ticklish. Almost as ticklish as you!" Katy couldn't believe it but she felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Oh, so you've tickled her too?" she asked.

Ivanka looked up surprised and confused but that switched to understanding and empathy.

"No, silly." She leaned in and kissed Katy's soft lips. "No, Hope gets tickled all the time by Corey and Rob! You should see it, it's hilarious. Not to mention very hot."

As they walked in to the press office, Hope was burning the midnight oil, furiously typing and scrutinizing what she was laboring over.

"Hope! We've come to rescue you from work!" Ivanka merrily announced as they entered. "Don't you ever rest?"

Hope shyly looked up. "Oh, hi. Your father keeps me so busy, I hope it's ok I'm still here."

"Of course it is, silly! I just wanted you to meet somebody. Hope, this is Katy! Katy.....Hope!"

Hope stood up and extended her hand. "Oh, I've been looking forward to meeting you! I'm a big fan of your work." Hope gave a quick wink.

Katy found the compliment unexpected...and the wink even moreso. But before she could process it, the voice of Kellyanne Conway sounded from the back of the room.

"Well, well, well.....what do we have here? Three East Coast Democrats!"

Hope immediately stiffened. Ivanka seemed less perturbed.

"Oh come on now Kelly Anne....we're all on Team Trump here, you know that." Ivanka said grandly.

Kelly Anne wiggled her fingers at Ivanka. "Well, there's one way for me to find out!"

"You wouldn't dare."

Kelly-Anne laughed and turned to Katy. "There's only one person who gets to tickle the Princess. And it ain't Jared!"

At this, Kelly-Anne and Ivanka stood on either side of Hope, smiled at each other conspiratorially.... and started poking her sides. Hope, trying to work, squirmed in her chair at every poke.

"Look at this, its Pavlovian!" Ivanka exclaimed. "You should do a story on this!"

**************************************************

Hope offered Katy a ride back to the hotel and in her car she opened up.

"You have to understand, Katy, everyone here tickles me. And they're going to tickle you, too. That's why you're here."

"I don't understand."

Hope continued. "The two you have to watch out for is Kelly Anne, and Omarosa. They give the loyalty tests."

"The loyalty tests?"

"They both have nails and they don't fool around, they zero right in on your worst spots. It's like they know where they are already and they have no mercy. It's not like getting tickled by a guy, where you can sometimes sweet talk your way out of it. If these two find a spot....God help you. I'm just saying."

"I don't understand, loyalty tests?"

"You'll see. We all had to pass to join the administration. Hopefully you won't have to get both of them at the same time, like I did. Sometimes they just sic one of them on you. It just happens, it's very random.....I hear sometimes they let you choose who gets to tickle you, but that's not what happened with me"

Katy shuddered. "Ok, well....if you had to choose one or the other, who goes easier?" Hope thought for a minute.

"They're all business. Both of them are almost methodical in the way they get you." Then she added: "Kelly Anne, she can sometimes pet your head and give you a quick break. There's something motherly about her, or like a big sister. She kinda talks you through it, sometimes. I guess Kelly Anne."

"And Omarosa?"

"Omarosa, she just doesn't care, she will find a spot and drive you crazy and she will not stop tickling that spot unless she decides to go find another. But really....you're going to be laughing for a long, long time if either of those two get their hands on you. My advice is to steer clear and if you can't do that, then just don't make waves."

Katy shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Remembering how ticklish Ivanka's long-nails felt playing with her navel, she realized she had this irrational desire to find out what it was like to actually be tickled by these other women.

"And what about Ivanka?"

Hope turned to Katy and said, "I love Ivanka. I love her. Please don't write anything bad about Ivanka. She brought me here, I'd do anything for her."

*********************************************

When they pulled up to the hotel, they were surprised to see Ivanka herself standing outside, waiting for them.

"C'mon girlfriends! Slumber party!"

Suddenly Katy felt like she was in college again, she felt at ease with these two beautiful women. Ivanka was like the pied piper of fun; money was no object, in fact it didn't seem like anything was an object!

Once they got in, the three young women finished off the vodka, gossiped about various men in the White House, and played strip-Trivial Pursuit, 80's edition. It turned out none of three knew as much about the 80's as they thought they would, and just as the game started to become tedious, Ivanka broke the boredom with a battle cry.

"Pillow fight!"

Kneeling on the bed in their bras and panties, Hope and Ivanka started smashing breakaway pillows against Katy's arms, hundreds of soft, fluffy feathers raining down over them while they all squealed and giggled. Before she knew it, Katy was brandishing her own pillow and the three hotties were engaged in a full-on pillow bashing free-for-all. Within seconds there were so many feathers in the air, the girls could barely see when, suddenly, as if entering from a fog, the President appeared, his jacket off, the top buttons of his white shirt undone, and with a wicked grin on his orange face.

"Hi gurrrrls."

He leaned in, grabbed Hope around her bare waist with one hand, Katy around her bare waist with his other, brought them close to his doughy body....and squeezed. An explosion of high, desperate girlish giggles and titters bounced off the walls as his stubby fingers pressed and probed their sides. Both girls urgently put their hands over his to try and get him to stop but to no avail, he had his fingers in their sides like they were bowling balls. At one point they were so twisted to their sides that both were practically airborne, only their ankles dragging along the mattress. Trump felt like a mighty beast with his prey and did everything he could to make it tickle as much as possible. Finally, satisfied they had thrashed and kicked and squealed out enough "oh stop!"s, he relented and both girls immediately went limp in his hands, resting on his girth, panting. The President just grinned and took the moment in, pleased with his work.

As the last of the feathers fell around them, Ivanka casually strode around the bed, picking up.

"You look lovely, tonight, Ivanka"

"Thank you, Daddy." She surveyed the pillow feathers that were now all over the bed and the floor. "Oof! What a mess! We better get somebody up here to clean it all up!" She clapped her hands twice and suddenly a much older woman from an indiscernible foreign country appeared in a simple powder blue dress and her hair wrapped in a black kerchief.

"All this." Ivanka commanded, pointing all around the room. "Make clean. Now!"

The woman bowed and nodded, and immediately went to work.

Later, when Katy was leaving, she was able to grab the woman by the arm. "Hi, my name is Katy. Do you speak English? Ingles?"

The old woman's eyes grew wide with fear..."No, no.....no can talk......no can talk....please....."

"It's ok, I'm a reporter."

But all the woman did was to back down the hall as if she had been confronted by a monster. "Please! No can talk. Mr. Trump good to me. I swear! Mr. Trump good to me!"

**************
Sure enough, that night, Trump popped the question, not knowing Katy was aware of his intent. The moonlight bathed the bedroom as he wrapped his arms around his journalist mistress and held her close.

"I have a hypothetical for you." he spoke into her ear. This tickled her and she wrinkled her nose, smiling.

"Ok, ok , that tickles, not so close!" she giggled. "What's the hypothetical?"

"Who would you like tickling you better.....Kelly Anne? Or Omarosa?"

Katy thought about it, remembering what Hope said, but also tried to answer honestly.

"I think Kelly Anne."

"Really?" The president seemed surprised.

"It's hard to say. On one hand, Omarosa seems like she'd be really sexy at it. But .... getting tickled by an older woman....I don't know....there's just something extra hot about it, I can't explain."

The President's hands started moving down her body. "Well, how about getting tickled by an older man?"

Katy smiled and started guiding her hands over his. She knew what was about to happen.

"A much older man", he sighed as he kissed her shoulder and the finger wiggling began.

"Oh, Donald don't!"

*****************

But it turned out not to be neither Kellyanne or Omarosa.

Upon arriving one day at Trump Tower, a female aide she had never seen before intercepted her.

"Where's Donald?" Katy asked.

"Where's the President", the aide corrected. "The President is indisposed right now, Katy."

Katy was puzzled. She had just gotten off the phone with him an hour earlier.

"Is he ok?" she asked.

"The President is fine. He wants you to come with me. We understand that the President has granted you full access, and that you have, shall we say, a special relationship with him. But we have to make sure - he has to make sure - that you're dependable and reliable...."

Katy chuckled. "You mean, loyal? Is that the word you're looking for? Loyalty? The President wants loyalty?"

The aide pursed her lips and simply replied: "Come with me, please."

As they briskly walked through never-ending winding halls, Katy prepared herself. So this was it. This was the loyalty test. Her body started to tingle in anticipation, but her mind was thinking like a reporter. It didn't get more "inside" or "undercover" than this. As they kept walking and walking, she had to concentrate to keep her breathing and heart rate normal. Her whole upperbody was already electric and the more she anticipated what might happen to her, the more she felt like turning around and running away.

But she didn't. She was determined to go through with whatever they had planned so that she could know what the hell they were doing in this administration. Donald has been tickling me for months now, she thought to herself. If ever she had training for something, this was it. This new sense of resolve served her well when they finally got to their destination: a medium sized office with what looked like a sort of examination or massage table in the middle.

"Please turn your attention to the monitor on your right."

Katy looked to her right at the screen as the aide tried to open a file. This stalled the excitement for a bit as the aide kept sighing and trying to figure out why she couldn't get the computer to work properly. She called some kind of tech support and continued clicking and typing to make something happen. Finally, the aide sounded a mildly triumphant "aha!" and a video clip opened up full screen, and there was Trump sitting at his desk, speaking directly to the camera.

"Katy....dear dear Katy.....I want you to know that I think the world of you, fake news aside, and I want you to take this little loyalty test for me. In my world, you can't be too careful. Things may seem a little weird at first, you may not understand it, you may have alot of questions but this is the way it's got to be. I'm so sorry, Katy. I know you weren't expecting this." Katy chuckled to herself. Trump continued on the monitor. "Do whatever they tell you, and it will all be over soon. I think very highly of you, Katy. Very highly. Good luck, darling. Make me proud."

The video clip ended, and Trump's face was left frozen in such an unflattering expression that Katy had to chuckle again.

"Do you understand what you just watched?"

Katy nodded.

"Do you have any questions?"

Katy shook her head.

"Please remove your shoes and lie down, please."

Katy took a deep breath, and slipped out of her heels. The aide helped her onto the table.

"Put your arms above your head, please."

Katy complied, but was shocked when the aide slipped restraints on her wrists.

"Hey! You're tying me up?" Donald had never used any kind of bondage before, other than with his own body and strength.

The aide was now at the foot of the table, binding her ankles. "It will all be over in a little while, remember what the President said."

Katy was flustered and speechless, but the aide walked back up and looked her in the eye.

"Listen, we all had to go through this, ok? It will all be over in a little while." Then she added: "The President asked me to do this for him." and she bent down and kissed Katy on the forehead, which actually helped calm her nerves. The aide looked down at Katy one last time and whispered, "You're going to do great."

At this the aide left the room and Katy was alone, lying flat on her back, and feeling very vulnerable. She was lying there so long she started to think maybe this itself was the loyalty test....how long she could endure being tied up in an empty room. However, after an interminable wait, she heard a door open and could sense someone enter. She was expecting to see Kellyanne or Omarosa. She WANTED to see Kellyanne or Omarosa. But it wasn't either woman. In fact, she could sense right away that it wasn't a woman at all, but a man.

"Donald?" she softly called out. But there was no response. She could sense someone above her, behind her.......but she couldn't think of who it was. At first she thought of the only two men in the administration she knew were ticklers. Hadn't Ivanka told her that Cory Lewandowski and Rob Portman tickled Hope? Was it going to be one of them?

It turned out to be the last person in the world she would expect to see. As the male figure started walking around the room, not paying her any attention, she caught a glimpse of who it was, and her blood ran cold. It was....was it really?......it was!....none other than Vladmir Putin himself. Behold!

A thousand thoughts flooded her mind, each vying for attention. But at the top of the list was this one: what a scoop! This is going to blow the lid off of everything! She even allowed herself a fleeting fantasy of winning the Pulitzer Prize. Ok, ok....calm down, Katy, she thought to herself. One step at a time. First, she had to see what Putin had in mind. Everyone has gone through this before, the aide had told her, so she didn't think she was about to be poisoned or vanished or anything too sinister. She didn't know what to think.

Putin walked past the table. As he rounded the bottom, he planted a sprinkle of tickles on the middle of her sole, and she gave away a gasp and a flinch.

Putin stopped moving, turned and looked at her directly for the first time. "You American women, you're always so.....how do you say.....make easy to laugh. By touching. What is word for such thing again?"

"Tickle."

He cocked his head and smirked. "Yes, of course. Tickle." The Russian president sat down next to her, and pulled out his phone. He spoke as he started punching the keypad, busily.

"I never thought of this....how do you say?...tickling? Tickling make me....turn on, yes? Turn on? I never thought of turn on from tickling beautiful women. But our people did very much research into the West, and America in particular, and we were surprised to find that tickling was very popular on this computer internets, yes? So we create a couple of companies to cater to this market. Here, I show you...." He brought up a website, a Russian tickling fetish website, and held the phone up to her face so she could see. The women were stunningly beautiful; some of them could have been runway models.

"After we made videos of this type, I began to watch some. It's very important to know what you're putting out. I watch and I become very interested in this....this phenomenon, yes? Every woman, she has her own.....errr.....unique response. I become fascinated to this response. I become fascinated with tickling video. Soon I enjoy tickling women myself, to help me relax, to give me fun, yes?" Putin leaned in close to her face and said, conspiratorially: "You know there's old saying, a man does not go to the feast just to eat one piece of meat, yes? I like to sample all the borsht and all the broths! You understand me, yes? "

Katy had an itch. "Yes, I understand."

"I knew you would. You will be great feather in our cap! Beautiful American journalist! Now, um....let me see here...." Putin reached under both her arms, and he pressed his fingerpads in. "A-coooochy-cooochy-cooooo, yes?" Putin taunted. Katy laughed.....his technique sucked. Our President is a much better tickler she thought to herself, a strange unexpected sense of national pride rising in her at this most odd of moments.

"I teeckle you! I teeckle you!" the Russian president hopped around from foot to foot. He was hitting spots, and it did tickle her, but not for any prolonged amount of time and her laughter came more from witnessing this odd sight.

"Ha ha, yes, you teeckle me, you teeckle me. " she coo'd. She eeked for a second when his fingers chanced to graze over a particularly ticklish spot on her sides before spidering up to her not-particularly sensitive elbow bones. "Oh yeah, that really tickles, Vladmir. Ha ha ha......har har har" She rolled her eyes, and became openly contemptuous the more his shitty tickling technique was revealed. Wasn't this guy supposed to be in the KGB or something?

"How do I look when I is teeckling you, hmmmm?"

Boldly, she shouted while laughing "I think you look like a DICKHEAD! That's what you have always looked like to me!" Suddenly the Russian president stopped and leaned down, inquisitively.

"Deekhead. I don't know meaning of that word. What is deekhead?"

Katy's eyes shifted from side to side. "Um, it means, strong leader, El Presidente."

Putin looked delighted. "Very good! Yes, I am deekhead! I am deekhead! And I teeckle you! I teeckle American journalist!"

This went for about a half hour. At one point, Katy actually yawned. At another point, he started pinching the skin on her thigh, making her say "Ow!" He apologized and started scratching her scalp, presumably trying to tickle her there. It was a pathetic, inept performance. Never once during the charade was she asked about loyalty, nor any other subject. Eventually Putin took his hands off her, abruptly stood up straight, his face turning serious. He unbuckled the straps, then briskly left the room. Katy sat up, completely bemused, got off the table, picked up her shoes and walked to the door, she just wanted to get the hell out of there.

**********
As soon as Katy left the room, a waiting, worried-looking aide clutching a clipboard rushed over. "The President wants to see you right now." With this brisk escort she was ushered to his chambers. When Katy entered, she could see her boyfriend, the President of the United States, was frantic.

"What did he do to you? What did he do to you?!!! Did he tickle you? He did, didn't he. I knew it! I can tell! He tickled you, didn't he?" Katy was caught off guard and more than a little amused to be the cause of all this anxiety.

"There's nothing to be jealous about. You tickle me much better. His tickling sucks."

The President stopped dead in his tracks, visibly relaxed, thought for a moment, then puffed with pride.

"I do tickle better don't I? It's all in the hands, Katy, you need good hands. See?" He held up his little hands to demonstrate. "I've got good hands."

"American hands, Mr. President." Katy replied with a wink, and puffing with national pride herself. Still barefoot, she tiptoed up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

Abruptly he turned solemn. "He didn't get you at all?"

"I didn't say that. He got me a few times."

"Where. When. How did he get you?"

Katy looked at him sideways. He was practically panting like a dog.

"I don't know, Donald, he got me! You know! Tickling!"

"I want details, Katy, c'mon, c'mon. This could be a matter of national security!"

She furrowed her brow, then replayed what she could remember in her head.

"I don't know, when he first came in, when he passed by, he reached out and tickled my foot."

"A foot man! I knew it! And how did it feel?"

"It tickled!"

"Did you laugh?"

"No, but he could tell."

"How could he tell?"

"I kind of gasped. Like this" She demonstrated her gasp.

"Ah, so he could tell. Girls like you, you can't hide it. You'd make a terrible spy, Katy." he chastised. "Ok, then what?"

"I don't know. He gave this big long speech about how he's into this, and how he got into it and everything......then he suddenly just sort of lunged at me and started tickling my body, all over"

Trump's eyes burned into hers. "Did it tickle?"

"At first, a little bit."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah, you know. Coochy coo. Stuff like that."

"Putin said coochy coo?!!!!!"

"Yeah, it was weird. Then he's sort of hopping from one foot to another, he looked like a frog."

"A frog!" Trump marveled, then laughed to himself. "And what about me, how do I look?"

"You? I can't get away from you, you're an octopus.....you're like a big orange bear!"

Satisfied, the President nodded. Then he broke into a big grin, strode over and patted her on her head. "Very good. You done good! Very, very good!" He kissed her on the cheek. "My Katy. Yes....very good! You might just get a medal for this one! You'll see! Very good, darling."

***************************
The President needed to take a phone call ("Sorry Katy, top secret!") and he encouraged her to take a walk around the hotel. "We have everything here, spas, bars, do whatever you want, treat yourself nice, you've earned it." He patted her fanny and Katy decided to walk off the last hour.

After a while, though, she realized she wanted to freshen up and was looking for a washroom. She thought she was entering a ladies room...but it turned out to be a very long dark hallway. She looked back on the front of the door and noticed a sign on it that she hadn't seen before. "Confidential Area" it said. The reporter in her kicked in and she decided to do a little snooping.

The doors were all closed, but as she past most of them, she could usually hear something muffled going on inside. About a quarter of the way down, just as she was passing one room, she heard a woman's moan. She stopped at the door, and a moment later she heard it again.

Katy took a deep breath, and nudged the door slightly ajar, and what she saw, she could barely fathom. There, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall was Sarah Huckabee Sanders, and she was having her toes nuzzled by Steve Bannon! Bannon looked like he was in ecstasy, gripping her ankles, slurping and slobbering all over her peds like a thirsty St. Bernard.

"Not my toes, Steve", she drawled. He murmured that her round, plump toes felt delicious to play with and he started to chew on the pads of her toes, nibbling and nibbling, scooping the tongue under and across the ridge, and sometimes even daringly darting to the very center of her baby-soft sole shocking her in the process.

"Oh my god, don't!" Sarah shrieked through the howling laughter, her eyes squeezed tight, her head shaking no no no, her fists clenched until the tip of his tongue scooped the ridge under her second two toes, plunging her deeper into hysterics.

Katy shut the door, a little shaken. She thought Bannon was long gone from the administration, but apparently he was still hanging around.

Just as she was processing this, she suddenly heard giggling and screaming coming from the far end of the hall. Katy briskly tip toed down the corridor, the laughing growing louder and more animated until she came to the room in question.

Katy again pushed the door slightly ajar.....and there, sitting on Putin's lap, was Ivanka, twisting and twitching and writhing in his arms. He had a big contented smile on his face, like a slice of melon, and his fingertips kept a steady flurry of tickles on her side. His technique has improved, she thought to herself, as it appeared that Ivanka was in the full throes of getting tickled, and wasn't faking it in the slightest. She had never heard or seen Ivanka like this.

"Oh my god, Vlad, that tickles! That tickles!" Ivanka giggled as she hiccupped and tried to get away.

"Are you going to sit in my chair again?" the Russian president taunted.

"I won't sit in your chair! I promise! I promise!"

"Really?"

"It was Felix Sater's idea! I swear!"

"So you like to spin around on other people's chairs, hmmm?"

"Yes! Yeeees! I'm so sorry! Oh my god, you have to stop!"

Putin relented, and, catching her breath, Ivanka sweetly rubbed his bald head, then clutched it into her bosom and kissed the top of it. Smooshed against her boobies, Putin looked like an overgrown infant, his face looking strangely content, his mouth fixed in a crooked grin.

"I love when you tickle me tickle me tickle me, Vlad!" Ivanka giddily squealed. "Do it again! Do it again!"

Putin looked startled, then broke into a big broad smile - not a good look for him, Katy thought - and he suddenly shouted "I teekle you!", this time digging in to her side, holding her steady with his other arm, as if he were cradling her. Ivanka became a hysterical, giggling mess, and Putin, perhaps caught up in the moment, started talking very fast and non-stop in Russian.

******************************************
"Donald, listen.....you're not going to believe what I just saw. Ivanka is with Putin, and he's tickling her. She can't get away!"

The President turned and looked out the window.

"Donald, what's wrong? Did you hear what I just said?"

Trump stood stone faced and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Sometimes Katy, you have to make sacrifices to get what you want. Some would say I haven't made sacrifices to get where I am, but I have, Katy, I have."

He jutted out his bottom lip and his eyes got misty. He gestured....and then just let his arm fall to the side, defeated.

"Donald, I don't think you understand. Vladmir Putin is in the other room, tickling your daughter!"

The President raised his eybrows, tilted his head....and said nothing.

"Donald! Are you listening to me? Putin has got Ivanka! He's tickling her, and she can't get away!"

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, like a goldfish out of water. He then awkwardly turned away from her three-quarters. Then, after a moment, as if refreshing a screen, he turned back towards her with outstretched arms and a beaming smile...."Katy! Come here!"

Sighing, she walked over to him, and he turned her towards the glass wall, and together they looked down at the street.

"Look. Look out the window. What do you see?"

She saw hundreds, maybe thousands of people scurrying around like ants. All people with jobs and things to do, running to and fro.

"I see people. Human beings. People trying to get by."

Trump made a face. "You know what I see?" He got next to her and looked down. "I see women."

All of a sudden, he looked beatific and in an instant the big picture started coming into focus for Katy. All the women on the street...they were just toys to him. "Look at her." He pointed to a leggy young professional, trying to negotiate crossing the street when she didn't have the "Walk" sign. "Katy, that young girl should be tickled. Don't you see?"

Katy didn't feel so special suddenly. Men. Guys. Wasn't she ticklish enough for one man?

As if he was reading her mind, he put his arm around her and squeezed her close: "It's not that I don't enjoy you, Katy. When you find a beautiful pearl like yourself, you don't let her go. Believe me, I know. But here's the plan. Income inequality. Do you understand? Income inequality. If we make these women poor enough...I can find out who's ticklish, who's not, what their laughs are like, what spots get them going, what they'll agree to, to get me to stop. I learned this all from Putin. This is why Russia has the prettiest whores in the world; they have no choice! They have to do it! It's either that....or they go to bed hungry! I want that, here in America!"

So it was a war on women! Inside, Katy's blood was boiling. Outwardly, her disgust was palpable.

"And Ivanka? Your daughter?"

Trump just looked at Katy and sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

*******************
Suddenly, both of them were aware of another presence in the room. They whirled around and there, glowering at them, was the First Lady.

"Donald....who is this?"

The President started stammering.

"She's....darling, you know who this is, this is Katy! A reporter! Don't you remember Little Katy? From the rallies?"

Melania wasn't having it.

"I see, a reporter. From the rallies. And what is she doing here, now, at this hour?"

"Why, she's just...."

"Eesn't this the one you.....I can't even say it......the one you got in trouble with? Eesn't it?!!!"

The President looked away and rolled his head around as he tried to arrive at a good excuse. "No, well I.....no, I have never done something that.....you know, the rallies were just...."

Katy, suddenly face to face with his wife for the first time, was overwhelmed with guilt, and sympathy, especially when she saw how pathetically he was in coming up with a plausible explanation. Not to mention all she had just witnessed, and learned. Katy took a deep breath, turned to the First Lady and ended the charade.

"Melania.....he tickles me. He tickles me all the time. I can't get him to stop."

The First Lady's face turned to stone. "How could you?!!!" she suddenly shrieked, pounding his arm with her fist.

"Oww! Darling, you're hurting me!" he complained as he backed up a step.

The First Lady crossed her arms and tightened her lip, letting everything sink in. After a short eternity where everyone stood frozen in place, unsure of what would happen next, the Donald broke the silence by taking another tack.

"Me-laaaaa-neeee-aaa", the corpulent 70-year old sang in baby talk, mincing about. No reaction. Next he cocked his head and pouted his lips like a bad dog. The First Lady's sneer drew more severe as she shook her head and turned away. Mischievously the President took his thumb and forefinger and gingerly gave her waist a pinch. Melania's body flinched at first touch.....but her face registered annoyance and gave him a look that said "you better not."

"Now Melania" he said, poking her side, "you know and I know that just because...", his finger hit a good spot and she snorted.

"Donald, don't you dare....."

"Excuse me, I'm talking and you will listen....."

"Donald, you were teeckling her!!!!! Teeckling!" she thundered and pointed to Katy. "Her! That one! How could you?!!!! How could you?!!!!"

At this the First Lady spun on her heels and stormed out of the room like an angry queen. Donald looked after her for a minute, frozen, not sure whether to follow in hot pursuit, or let out a little flatulence. He opted for the little flatulence, a tiny little "blap" out of his sphincter....but remained frozen looking at the doorway his wife had just marched through. Suddenly he whirled his head and glaring contemptuously at Katy sneered "Great job, Fake News."

He jut his chin out and stomped out in a pout, leaving Katy alone...with the secret service agent who had been there all along.

************************************************

It was a cliche, she knew it, but he was tall, he was dark and he was handsome. He was soft spoken, confident. Everything about him said "leave it to me.....I'll take care of everything."

"So....you're in the Secret Service." she said, awkwardly, trying to make small talk. "That must be exciting."

He didn't answer. He switched gears and the car picked up speed.

"The President.....he doesn't know how to tickle you right."

Katy laughed. "Oh really?"

"Really."

Katy laughed again. "And I suppose you do?"

Not taking his eye of the road, he calmly placed his hand on her thigh - just the right spot - and squeezed. Katy eeked and giggled and squirmed in her seat.

"That's pretty good. Got me on the first try"

He took it all in stride, kept his eye on the road.

"So where am I driving you?"

"Long Island. A friend is out of town and told me I could stay at her house in Glen Cove."

"Glen Cove it is." The car shifted gear and merged on to the Long Island Expressway.

****

When they got to her doorstep things got a bit awkward saying goodnight and they ended up goofily shaking hands. But after he took three paces towards his car he stopped, turned, and their eyes met. After a moment he walked back over to her....swept her off her feet.....and carried her in. As he carried her through the foyer into the living room she kicked off her heels and enjoyed the ride.

Kissing him was delicious. His full lips enveloped her, like kissing pillows. His hands were so strong and deliberate; obviously he'd been with lots of women and knew what he was doing.

"Um, Katy....I wouldn't tell the President about this, ok?"

"Oh my god, of course not!"

"And Katy?"

"Yes?"

"Don't write about it either."

****************************

After they made love, he got up and returned to the room with a ledger. He dropped it on the bed in front of her, nodded, then went to the window and lit a cigarrette. He said nothing.

Katy tentatively opened the pages. And there it was. Almost everything. The nuclear reactors in Jordan. The tickle camps. Manafort. Flynn. The Russians. Wikileaks. Kushner. Don Jr. The only thing she didn't see was a direct reference to the Moscow Trump Tower, although it was alluded to.

"I....."

"Don't say anything" he said. "And don't write anything. I'm showing this for your own protection, not for your story."

"Yeah but...."

"Don't say anything" he repeated. "I have to go."

***

Katy started independently verifying everything she had read and started putting together the story. She also tipped off some of her colleagues, and some details started coming out in dribs and drabs.

As the press coverage got more and more relentless, the ticklings from the President began to get more severe and mean spirited. He got to calling her "Fake News" as he tickled her. "I'm tickling fake news itself!" or "Take that, Fake News!".

One night she endured a particularly savage tickling, after being tricked into thinking she was going to get her back massaged. "I'm going to tickle the fake news out of you." he promised, wedging/trapping his hands under her arms and wiggling his fingers as fast as he could. Her underarms had replaced her feet as his favorite target for tickling, especially when he was feeling stressed or in a bad mood. He took out all his frustrations with the leaks, and the bad press, and the never-ending scandals of his cabinet.....on her. Another time he simply walked into the room looking glum and angry....and very determined.

"Donald?" she asked.

He just started lumbering towards her like Frankenstein's monster and, instinctively knowing what was coming, she immediately started begging and trying to reason with him as she backed up. Grunting and roaring like a monster, he snatched her with his hands just as she turned to run away and sunk all of his fingers into her middle. As she screamed with laughter, he shut his eyes tight, relishing the feel of her body in his hands, and the sound of her laughing so hard that it almost sounded like crying.

"You like that, Fake News?"

Katy was beyond words, and even moreso when he put his thumbs around her hip bones and started kneading. She doubled over with hysterics, and both she and the President were bent forward, as he wouldn't let her go for nothing.

Finally, Katy broke free and backed up, again trying to talk sense into him.

"Donald.....ok, that's enough now....let's go to bed....." she panted, with her hands held out in front of her as her only defense. Trump was uncommunicative and just kept approaching her. He backed her into the bed, and as she fell back, he pounced, plunging both his hands into her wide open armpits.

"Coochy coochy coo, Fake News!"

Katy writhed and twisted side to side on the bed, convulsing with laughter, as he loomed over her and played with her body.

"Oh, you're going to get it tonight, Fake News." and he tickled even harder and faster. All Katy could get out as "No no no no no no" over and over again.

Suddenly he grabbed both of her wrists and held them high above her head. With one hand he was able to pin down both of her wrists, and with the other hand, he extended one finger and began alternating stroking up and down with making circles with his tickling finger.

"Did you know about these leaks I'm reading about? Did you?"

Katy was in such a state of giggles that she could barely understand the question.

"You made these stories up, didn't you! Didn't you?!!"

"NO I DIDNT, I SWEAR!" she shrieked. She was hysterical.

"Admit it! It was you, Fake News!"

"OH MY GOD, STOP PLEASE!"

"Katy.....I'm tickling you."

"DONALD, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, PLEASE STOP!"

"Katy....I'm tickling you, and I'm going to keep tickling you until you admit it. Now where are these leaks coming from?"

Katy managed to wriggle away and started crawling across the bed. The President grabbed her ankles and pulled her back.

"Oh no you don't!" he warned, as he straddled her and put his hands on her sides. "Gotcha, Fake News!"

He started to tickle her. First on her sides. Then on her ribs. Finally he bent back her leg, flung off her shoe and started tickling her foot. She just laughed into the mattress as hard as she could.

"OK OK I ADMIT IT! I ADMIT IT! I'M FAKE NEWS!! I'M FAKE NEWS!!!!" she shrieked, banging the mattress with her palm.

"What did you say?"

"I ADMIT IT! I'M FAKE NEWS! OH MY GOD, MY POOR FOOT!"

But the President didn't let go. And he didn't say anything else. He had his admission, and now punishment was all he was meting out. He gazed at her sole, nylon clad, and just tickled it with all five fingers.

Katy's laughter almost sounded like bawling at this point, and she was tickled weak, the fight completely out of her, completely still, face down on the bed, with laughter the only thing she could manage. After a while of this, he suddenly threw down he foot, got up and abruptly left the room, leaving her on the bed, breathless, hair all mussed up, and trembling, as if her body expected another attack at any moment.

***********************
"Listen, we are so close to blowing this thing wide open! I'm talking Pulitzer Prize, Katy! I'm talking.....I'm talking Nobel fucking Peace Prize, do you understand?"

As Jan marched around the room, unable to contain her glee, Katy sunk into her chair and became sullen. As she rounded the chair, Jan abruptly stopped the celebrating.

"Katy...are you ok? What's wrong? This is great work! You're the next Woodward and Bernstein! You should be happy right now!"

Katy stared into space and thought about it all.

"Jan...have you ever been tickled by a Republican?"

Jan shuddered and shook her head. She couldn't even imagine it. Katy took a sip of her water and continued, her head bowed down, embarrassed, but the words tumbling out of her.

" It's terrible. it's like....they just don't care. I beg and I beg and I tell them that they're scaring me....or that I can't breathe.......or that I can't take it.....and they just keep tickling. Sometimes they laugh while they do it. Or they just ignore me. And I can't stop them. They're heartless people. I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Jan walked around her desk and knelt down in front of Katy.

"Look at me, Katy." But Katy couldn't raise her head.

"Katy....look at me." Katy slowly raised her head and met Jan's eyes with her own.

"We've almost got him. Do you understand? We almost got him."

"Yeah, well...I don't know if I want to 'get him'"

Jan put a finger to her lips and shushed her.

"Katy.....we've almost got him. Almost got them. The world is depending on you. All we need is to understand the Trump Tower in Moscow deal. Ok? Then....you never have to do this ever again."

**********************
Katy was on the phone, determined to get the story this time. She put on her best distressed voice.

"Donald, listen....I'm in big trouble with my boss. She thinks I haven't been doing anything. Can we do an interview tonight? Just so I have something to give to her?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, just come over."

But once she was with him, he just wanted to tickle and fuck. Luckily for her, he went easy on her, complaining he had a touch of agita. Great, she thought, should be a long, gassy night.

Trump lay back and closed his eyes. She slung her leg over his thighs and started running her fingers through the few strands of chest hair he had. She knew she had to act fast, or he'd be fast asleep in no time.

"So why don't you tell me what really happened with the Trump Tower in Moscow, hmmm?"

"Oh Katy, there's nothing to tell, I'm exhausted, let's get to sleep."

"Really?"

"Really."

She kissed his cheek.

"Oh come on.....you can tell me, can't you?"

Trump was irritated. "Katy, I told you, I'm exhausted, there's nothing to tell, let's get to sleep."

Suddenly she had an idea. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Why had she never thought of this before? Of course! A taste of his own medicine! She had tried everything else: snooping, interviewing, trying to connect the dots. There was only one thing she hadn't tried. Katy moved her hand down lower and started playing with his flab....and the President began to laugh.

"Oh no Katy, don't do that!" he cackled out urgently, and, amused at how the tables had turned, Katy modified her style. "Ticklish, Mr. President?" The President snickered like Popeye.

"Oh my god, your nails!" he gasped. As she tickled, she looked up at him. He was beet red and looked like an overgrown Oompa Loompa having a fit. Katy continued to tickle.

"I said tell me about Trump Tower in Moscow! Tell me, you fat bastard!" She dug in to his gelantinous sides with all five nails .

"No-ho-hooooo!"

Katy scurried her nails all over his massive gut. The corpulent old coot didn't even give up a fight, he was limp, as if this was a new sensation he had no idea how to combat.

"Tell me, I said!"

"Ok! Ok! I'll tell you! I drop sanctions, I get to build tower! I drop sanctions, I get to build tower! Now stooooop!"

Katy wasn't finished. "In other words, you sold out the country so you could make your stupid building???!! Is that what you're saying?!!!"

The President just squeezed his eyes shut and continued his cackling.

"Katy, please, hold up, hold up! You're going to give me a heart attack here!" But Katy was relishing being the one in control for a change.

"You've been tickling me for months! Not so funny now, is it?!!!"

"Oh no Katy don't!"

"Is it?!!!"

"Whoah, Katy, look out!"

"Answer me!"

"Big one coming!"

"That's your answer?"

All of a sudden, an enormous roar emitted from the President's bottom, like a charging elephant. The stench was instantaneous, and recognizing this was no ordinary incident of flatulence, Katy immediately leaped out of the bed. Furious, Trump reached down the back of his PJ pants and emerged with a brown, gooey hand.

"You made me have a bowel movement, you asshole! I told you to stop! Damn you! Damn you!!!!! I'm.....I'm the President!"

Katy was absolutely revolted. She was revolted by the revelations of his treason, at the fact that he had called her an abusive name.....but mostly because he had shit the bed. There might not be a pee-pee tape, she thought to herself, but she couldn't think of a more fitting image for the state of the country than the one before her now. Trump's face darkened and she was a little shocked that he chose to wallow in his own filth rather than lift a finger to help himself.

"Who will clean this mess?!!!" he glared at her accusingly. Katy started hurriedly gathering her things. "Donald, I gotta go....this is ridiculous. It's over."

"You'll be sorry, young lady! Very sorry! You can't leave me like this! I need a washcloth!"

As she walked on she called back to him: "You know Donald, they're going to have to keep the windows open for a whole year to air out the stink from you being in this place. The People's House deserves better....and so do I. Goodbye, Donald."

************
From The New York Times:

"Above other things, Putin wanted sanctions lifted. He wanted to destroy the Atlantic alliance. He wanted to divide the US electorate. He wanted a weak commander in chief. And most bizarrely he aimed to create an intercontinental exchange program of ticklish women by crippling the US economy so much that it forced the female citizenry into prostitution or, in this case, fetish models. Both Mr. Putin and Mr. Trump are said to share this obscure fetish....No comment from the White House as Miss Tur is expected to meet with the Mueller team later today...."

****
To get away from the fallout, Katy took a long, well-deserved vacation out of the country at an exclusive resort. The network paid for the whole thing. She spent most of her time sunning herself next to her private pool, and binge watching "Veep". She didn't even tell her family where she was.

After a week and a half, she started to get restless and decided to go check out the resort's nightlife. She put on a wig, then a hat, then a pair of tortoise shell glasses. She wasn't looking to do anything other than observe, stretch her legs, have a drink or two, and come back to finish season two.

Spanish hip hop was blaring so loud, you could feel it in your chest....outside of the club. When she got in, there were only a few people, some of them older, dancing or milling about. Some nightlife, she thought, and ordered herself a fruity drink with a bamboo umbrella in it.

"It's called the Wow Wow, very popular!" shouted the bartender over the music.

But after having just a few sips, things started to get a little trippy. Her vision became fish-eyed, and her equilibrium was wobbly, especially when she turned her head. The last thing she remembered was reaching for a barstool to steady herself. Then she blacked out.

She awoke sitting in a chair, with her arms outstretched above her, tied at the wrist, the rope bound to a beam high above.

"You awake?"

She turned and saw her nameless secret service beau sitting on a folding chair, with an open newspaper on his lap. Katy gasped.

"What the...."

"I told you not to pass on that information, Katy. I told you. I told you for your own protection. And now, there's all....this." He gestured towards the rope above her head.

"Listen...."

" Sh sh shhhhhh" he held up a finger to his lips. "It's out of my hands."

He got up and walked out of the room, and she could hear his muffled voice murmuring to somebody. Katy frantically looked above and yanked on the rope to see if she could get it loose...but to no avail. Then she heard the door open, and she froze in attention.

Click. Click. Click. She heard high heels pacing back and forth behind her. Over and over. Katy tried to turn her head to see who it was, but had no luck. That is until Kellyanne put her face right next to Katy's and said "Tell me, Katy.... what were you doing with us, really? You work for a liberal network, you voted for Hillary.....why were you hanging around so much?"

"Let me go!" Katy demanded, tugging at the rope.

"Tsk tsk tsk....now Katy, I thought you would know better than to FUCK WITH ME!"

Katy froze. She was scared. She had never heard Kellyanne raise her voice before.

"Now are you going to tell me what I want to know? Or am I going to have to extract it through other means? Are you going to tell me the information? Or do I just tickle the fuck out of you....?"

Remembering what Hope had told her about Kellyanne's maternal nature, Katy started pleading.

"Kellyanne, I'm scared....I'm really scared right now...."

But Kellyanne didn't care. She just "mmm-hmm'd" and held up her hands in front of Katy's bare exposed armpits.

"I know you're ticklish, Katy...."

"Kellyanne, not there, please..." Kellyanne started wiggling her fingers, her long red nails getting closer.

"You liberal girls are so ticklish..."

Kellyanne's nails started grazing Katy's flesh. Katy's expression immediately switched from distress and fear...to giggles and smiles. She hiccupped with laughter as Kellyanne danced her nails all around Katy's pits. At one point she raised her head, looked directly at Kellyanne's grinning face and said through the laughter "Oh my god....that really tickles."

Kellyanne just kept grinning and tickling, you'd have thought she was doing something pleasant like decorating a Christmas tree.

"Now Katy....dear dear Katy.....did you speak to the special counsel?"

"No, I didn't!" Katy squealed

"The paper says it does, Katy."

"The paper is wrong! I thought you didn't believe the press!"

Kellyanne took her two pointer fingers and moved deeper into the hollows of Katy's underarms. Katy threw her head back, squeezed her eyes shut and fell deeper into guttural laughter.

"Why don't you join us, Katy?"

Katy didn't answer. Katy couldn't answer.

"C'mon, sweetie, just give in to it.You know you wanna!" she sing-songed.

Katy looked down at her right underarm, her face temporarily managing abject fear and dread before again snapping her head back with hysterics when Kellyanne suddenly grabbed her midsection and started squeezing. Katy's brows furrowed, her forehead in wrinkles, her mouth drawn in a frozen open mouth smile, her body hitching.

But Kellyanne could not break her. Katy was so hysterical, she could barely process the questions Kellyanne was posing to her.

"Who leaked to you?"

Katy just shook her head violently, though it was unclear to Kellyanne whether or not that was in response to the question, or to being tickled.

"Not going to answer that?"

Katy just bawled with laughter, "Oh my god stop!"

"You going to admit you made it all up? Fake news?"

Kellyanne started spidering her fingers all around Katy's hipbones. Katy started simply screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Oh, you like that spot!" Kellyanne teased, and moved her fingertips a half inch to the sides, making it tickle even more.

"You're not going to answer any of my questions, are you? You want to be tickled, don't you? Tell me you want to be tickled. Tell me, and I'll let you go!"

Katy's abs were so sore from laughing. "My stomach hurts!" she pleaded through the laughter. "My stomach hurts" she said again. Kellyanne was unmoved. So much for the maternal instinct, Katy managed to think.

Suddenly the door opened and Kellyanne immediately ceased torturing Katy's body.

"Ok, she's all yours." Then she turned to the tied and tickled journalist and said "I tried, Katy. I guess this is what you want."

Katy panted and caught her breath, and Omarosa walked in with a pleasant corporate smile that was all business.

"You're not going to give me any trouble, are you? Because I just love to tickle pretty white girls who lie about our President."

Once again, Katy tried to reason with her tormentor.

"Omarosa, hi.....I know you must have gone through this too so you know how bad it is and..." Omarosa cut her off, shaking her head dismissively.

"Omarosa's not ticklish, honey. A man can touch me anywhere he wants, and I can take it. I'm a woman, not a girl. You hear me?"

Katy nodded softly and sadly.

"You're just a girl." Omarosa continued.

Katy tried one last time. "Please don't tickle me anymore."

Omarosa started kissing around Katy's ear and neck. Katy hiccupped and writhed urgently.

"Tickles, doesn't it?"

Omarosa brought her fingers into it, wiggling her long burgandy nails around the sides of Katy's breasts, just an inch and half below the underarms. Katy's laughter jumped an octave.

"Oh don't! I can't take it!" she pleaded.

"You should have thought have thought of that before you published all those lies about our President." Omarosa started tickling the underboobs.

"Oooo, what do we have here?"

"Not my breasts, don't tickle my breasts!"

Omarosa had a sophisticated technique that not Donald, or Ivanka, or the secret service agent, or Kellyanne shared. And certainly not Putin. The technique seemed to be focus on a spot...which made the surrounding areas more sensitive....and then move to these close areas. Her fingers seemed to detect every nuance of Katy's ticklish skin.

"Ok, ok, I'm fake news! I'm fake news! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"

But Omarosa kept tickling. Katy's mind was racing, what does she want from me? All of a sudden, Omarosa moved her hands down to Katy's hipbones...and started kneading around them with her thumbs.

"You have anything else to say Katy?"

Katy's head was resting on the side of her outstretched arm, eyes squeezed shut, mouth fixed in a permanent, defeated smile and silent laughter.

"No" she mouthed.

"You sure?"

"Yes" she mouthed, while trying to manage the slightest of nods.

"Do you love it, Katy? Tell me you love it."

She tried to answer but the fingers hit a spot and it sent her laughing and twitching back with shut eyes and wrinkled nose.

"Kateeee", Omarosa singsonged and then speaking slowly and deliberately, ennunciating each word, separately from the rest. "I said tell me you love it."

"Yes!"

"I don't believe you. Tell me you love it."

"Ok! Ok! I love it! I love it!"

"And tell me you love him. Tell me you love our President."

"No please....."

"Katy...."

"Ok, I love him! I love him! I love it! I love it!"

So Omarosa dug in. Katy exploded with laughter, hyper, excited laughter, deep from within her, the very essence of her little girl soul coaxed out by a finger's touch....and just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she grabbed one breath so that she could scream just two words. "Don't stop!" Omarosa smiled, and she dug in even harder, all ten of her fingers savagely tickling the bound journalist's sensitive waist . Katy was hysterical, just barely gasping out "don't stop, don't stop" over and over.

Omarosa grinned. She had broken her. Katy, hysterical, begged and babbled incoherently, repeating over and over "don't stop".....and that she was in love with him. She loved President Trump.

View attachment The End.mp4

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Holy fucking shit this rules.

That was an incredibly well written story on many levels. Bravo!

Comfort Eagle said:

Holy fucking shit this rules.

Click to expand...

smokinj said:

That was an incredibly well written story on many levels. Bravo!

Click to expand...

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