Strelnikov
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- May 7, 2001
- Messages
- 1,820
- Points
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by Strelnikov
Copyright 2003 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18 years old and has lived on Tickle Street all of her life. She has long, dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She has a bit of an attitude, but it can quickly be destroyed if she's tickled. She's by far the most ticklish person on Tickle Street, and her twin older sisters Vicky and Veronica always take advantage of that.
Joanna Shaw
Joanna is Brittany’s cousin – their mothers are sisters. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has always been the perfect female athlete - her room is filled with trophies. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She always felt invincible due to her greatness in sports, but if she gets tickled, she loses it. She sees her ticklishness as a great weakness, and takes every opportunity to do unto others before they do unto her.
Vicky and Veronica Righetti
Brittany’s older sisters, and Joanna’s cousins. They’re "mirror twins" – identical, but Vicky, the leader, is a lefty (Latin “sinister”) and Veronica is right handed. They’re 20 years old, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. Like Brittany, they’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
Nicole Wade
A little beauty, 20 years old, with crystal blue eyes and bright blonde hair, and a very trim and shapely body. Very serious, a first-born overachiever. She’s a Sophomore Pre-Med major at Commonwealth University, a long drive away from Tieson City. She’s extremely ticklish, but has only recently become a participant in the Tickle Street action.
Melissa Gabreski
Melissa is attractive with great curves, dark hazel eyes, and long brown hair with blonde streaks. She's also very shy. She’s 20 years old, has lived on Tickle Street her whole life but until recently had few friends outside of her parents and Michael, her younger brother. She's super ticklish, which only adds to her shyness, and thinks it’s weird to be so ticklish like she is.
********************
“There!” said Brittany, finishing the hogtie. Her cousin Joanna was on her tummy on the floor of Brittany's room. Joanna squirmed, strained against the bonds, but nylon stockings – even torn ones – were about as strong as steel cable.
The two girls had studied together for their Chemistry test the week before, and had a wager over who would get the best grade. Brittany had edged Joanna out by two points. Now, on this Saturday afternoon, a week before Easter, Brittany was going to collect her forfeit.
The jeans and long sleeve shirts appropriate to the season weren’t conducive to whole body tickling, but foot tickling would be easy enough. Brittany kneeled at Joanna’s feet and slipped off her backless sneakers, exposing her bare feet. She traced one perfectly manicured nail along the tips of Joanna’s toes, then down the right sole and arch to the heel.
“Hehehehe!” Joanna giggled. “Don’t…haha…tease…hehe…me-hehehehe! Get it…hahaha…over with!”
“You asked for it!” said Brittany, and went to work, fingers flying. Joanna burst into wild, uncontrollable ticklish laughter.
Brittany was a highly skilled tickler – she had had lots of practice. She traced circles, squares and other tickling shapes on Joanna’s feet. She held back her toes and tickled under them, then held the toes apart and tickled the soft skin in between. And now two-hand tickling, while Joanna laughed and squirmed. Brittany’s fingernails flicked across the soles, the arches, the heels, and then onto THE SPOT – a place on the arch, just in front of the heel – where it really, really tickled. Joanna’s laughter went off the scale, and she lapsed into ticklish delirium.
The door burst open. Brittany gave a startled yelp, and the tickling stopped. Joanna heard sounds of a struggle. “GOTCHA!” two female voices shouted in triumphant chorus – Vicky and Veronica!
The twins were fiendish, inventive and enthusiastic ticklers – they had tickled Joanna silly more times than she could count. Joanna blinked away tears of laughter and gasped for air. She saw that they had jumped Brittany and wrestled her down to the floor next to herself.
Brittany didn’t bother to struggle any more. She knew that she was had – her only choice now was whether or not she would be tired when her sisters started tickling her. She had wisely decided to save her strength.
Brittany was already barefoot – she hadn’t bothered to put on socks or shoes today. The twins hogtied her with more old nylons. A house full of women generates amazing quantities of the things – Brittany and her sisters saved them and put them to good use.
“I thought you two gave up tickling for Lent!” Brittany said accusingly.
“We’re backsliding a little,” Veronica replied, kneeling at Brittany’s feet.
“We’ll do some penance,” Vicky added, kneeling by Joanna.
“But first…”
“…you two…”
“…are gonna get it!” they finished in chorus.
Vicky dusted Joanna’s soles with an old-fashioned badger bristle shaving brush. Joanna howled with forced mirth. Veronica flicked a fingernail between Brittany’s left little toe and the next, then moved along, tickling between each pair. Brittany bucked, arched her back and laughed her head off.
Vicky was an upper body tickler by preference, but this was too good to pass up – she dusted Joanna’s feet with the shaving brush, switched to an electric tooth brush for some toe tickling, a hair brush on the heels, then more toe tickling, pulling a piece of twine back and forth between Joanna’s toes. Veronica, the foot tickler of the pair, was content to use her fingernails – she tickled Brittany’s soles two-handed, watching the toes twitch and curl, then down the arches and onto the ticklish heels.
The twins tickled the younger girls into the zone and held them there, laughing helplessly. Brittany and Joanna laughed and laughed, their sweet ticklish laughter filling the room, for a long, long time. Finally, both twins finished in THE SPOT – the same on both victims – and reduced Brittany and Joanna to gasping, red faced silent laughter.
“Hey, sis! We’re gonna have to do penance for this anyway…” Vicky began.
“…so we might as well get our money’s worth!” Veronica completed the thought. “I’ll tickle Joanna this time.”
“Please… no more…” Joanna gasped.
“Save… your… breath,” Brittany said.
And she was right – they needed it. This time, both twins scrabbled and scratched their nails in THE SPOT and nowhere else. Brittany and Joanna laughed at the top of their lungs. They had all resistance tickled out of them. All they could do was lay there and laugh – and laugh – and laugh some more.
The twins eased off occasionally, tickled onto the girls’ heels, or up the arches to the soles, but always came back to THE SPOT. It went on and on, for what seemed like forever. At last, the twins’ tickling fingers picked up speed, and Brittany and Joanna laughed themselves breathless once again.
Brittany and Joanna laid there panting, sweaty, trying to get their heart rates back to normal. Vicky produced her balisong and cut the bonds on Brittany’s wrists. “Here ya go, little sis,” she said. “Feel free to tickle Joanna some more.”
“We’re gonna go to Confession at the church,” Veronica added.
“See you later,” they said in chorus.
***
Nicole parked in a Visitor slot at Our Lady of Victory Roman Catholic Church that Saturday afternoon. Unlike her friend Melissa, she was a Methodist – though lately, her church attendance could most charitably be described as “irregular.”
“In here, Nicole!” Melissa called out from the door of the church annex.
Nicole had come home from Commonwealth University on spring break; Melissa was local, a commuter student at Tieson City College majoring in Theater. Neither girl had a party-hearty spring-break personality – Melissa was painfully shy, Nicole was always very much under control. Furthermore, Nicole was mindful of the cost of a medical education – money she didn’t spend was money she wouldn’t have to borrow. And anyway, this gave them a chance to renew their old friendship.
Nicole locked the Saturn and followed her friend inside. To the left of the door, a corridor led past a meeting room and the church office to the sanctuary. They went straight ahead, past the kitchen to the hall.
When her church Young Adult group decided to do a play, Melissa tried out for a small part and was accepted. Rehearsals would start the weekend after Easter. She volunteered to do scenery too – she had more artistic talent than most of the others. That was today’s program, and Nicole had volunteered to help.
The scenery was four big wood-and-canvas flats, laid out horizontally on drop cloths. Some of the guys had moved them – the flats had been painted so many times that the girls couldn’t have lifted them. Melissa had painted them flat white yesterday, and sketched the scenery on them this morning with a carpenter’s pencil. Now they needed to finish the job. It would be like doing a very large Paint-by-Number.
Like Melissa, Nicole was dressed in her oldest jeans and sweat shirt. They got to work, and made much faster progress than Melissa had thought they would. They found that they didn’t need to use masking tape at all. Nicole’s hands were rock steady – she would someday become a superb surgeon. Nicole did all of the edging, with Melissa filling in the big spaces in between.
Melissa had brought a thermos of tea. They took a break after the first two flats, and passed the time in conversation. Then back to work – they had it down to a science by now, and finished the other two flats in less than an hour.
Nicole gathered up the brushes in a bucket. They had been using water base paint – Melissa directed her friend to the janitor’s closet to wash them. It was located inside the men’s restroom down the hall, but that was no big deal. The only other people in the building were Father Finucane and whoever came to see him for Confession – and they were in the sanctuary, not the annex.
Melissa had just about finished cleaning up when the door to the hall opened. She looked up, expecting to see Nicole, but… Vicky and Veronica Righetti! What were they doing here?
“Hi, Melissa!” Vicky called out.
“We were here…” Veronica continued.
“… for Confession…”
“…and we saw…”
“ the lights on…”
“…so we thought we’d…”
“…check it out,” they finished in chorus.
Nothing good can come of this, thought Melissa. Still, in the spirit of Christian fellowship, I’ll try to be friendly to them.
“Well, come on in and see what we’ve done,” Melissa invited. Nicole would be back soon. It would be OK.
“What’s all this?” Vicky asked.
“Scenery for the play we’re doing this spring,” Melissa replied. “Nicole and I painted it this afternoon. We’re just finishing up – she’s down the hall washing the brushes.”
“A play? Does it have any villains in it?” Veronica asked.
Here it comes! thought Melissa. “No,” she said. “It’s a comedy.”
“Too bad – Veronica and I would have been great villains,” Vicky said. “Listen!”
“MUA-HAHAHAHA!” the twins laughed.
“The laugh is a little overdone, don’t you think?” asked Melissa. She was starting to feel uneasy by now.
Vicky’s eyes met Veronica’s, and a silent message passed between them. “Show us how you would do it,” Vicky said, and the twins closed in on Melissa.
“Hey! What are you… Stop!” Melissa said. But the twins grabbed her and bulldogged her down onto the floor. Vicky sat on the struggling girl while Veronica went in search of bondage material. She found some cotton clothesline, cut some pieces, and Vicky tied Melissa’s hands behind her back while Veronica pulled off her shoes and socks and tied her ankles together.
They were about to complete the hogtie when Nicole came back into the hall. She had been in the janitor’s closet with the water running, and hadn’t heard them. She was taken by surprise – before she could run, the twins had her. They tied her up like Melissa. She had been wearing Birkenstock slides without socks, and had lost one in the struggle. Vicky pulled the other shoe off and dropped it on the floor.
“HELP!” Nicole yelled.
“Don’t waste your time,” Vicky said.
“Father Finucane is pretty deaf – no way will he hear you from all the way over in the sanctuary,” Veronica added.
Nicole strained against the bonds. It was no use – these two were just too good at what they did.
“Hey sis,” Vicky said. “I’d rather not kneel on a wood floor for the next half hour. Let’s do this in comfort. There’s some chairs over there along the wall…”
“…that we can use for a chair tie, and seats too,” Veronica completed the thought.
The chairs were the bent-cane type, the 1930’s version of inexpensive utility chairs. The twins dragged four of them over next to the other girls and set them up in side-by-side facing pairs. They lifted Melissa into one, passed loops of rope around her waist and shoulders and the chair back, put her bound feet through the back of the facing chair and tied her ankles to the canes at the top. They repeated the process with Nicole, then went back for two more chairs.
“Plenty of nice clean paint brushes here,” Vicky said. She selected one from the bucket and moved a chair to Melissa’s feet. “It would be a shame not to use them.”
“Suit yourself,” Veronica said, taking a seat at Nicole’s feet. “I can do better with my nails.”
And indeed she could! Veronica held Nicole’s toes back and tickled side to side across the stretched out soles. Nicole threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs. Her feet were off-the scale ticklish on the exact middle of the soles, along the crease, and onto the arch behind. Veronica knew all about it – she had tickled Nicole before. Her fingers flew, scratching the center of the right sole, across the balls of both feet, and onto the center of the left. Nicole howled with forced mirth, laughing like mad.
Vicky started slow, teasing the tips of Melissa’s toes with the bristles, producing a stream of little giggles. She circled the balls of both feet in a figure-eight, and the giggles were continuous. And then she flicked the brush up and down on the soles, and side to side, and the giggles turned to all-out laughter. She circled the brush in Melissa’s arches, flicked the heels, and then concentrated her effort on the arches just ahead of the heels. The tickling bristles flicked, faster now, and Melissa laughed her head off.
The twins were good – very good. They held their victims on the edge, never let them zone out, always let them get just enough air to laugh. They kept it until Melissa and Nicole thought they would go crazy. They finished at warp speed and tickled both of their victims breathless.
Time to take a break. Melissa and Nicole sat there, sweaty, red faced, hair messed up. Their ribs and abs were sore from laughing.
“Y’know, sis, we’re gonna have to go back to Confession after this,” Vicky said.
“Yah. This is a new record for us,” Veronica said. “We crashed and burned less than five minutes after our last Confession. Father Finucane will be so disappointed in us.”
“Well… Once again, let’s get our money’s worth,” said Vicky. “Trade with me.”
“Oh… no…” Melissa gasped.
“Ple-hehehe-ease!” Nicole begged as Vicky flicked the brush across her soles.
But the quality of mercy is not strained. It has lumps – tickle torture, for example – and Vicky and Veronica were nowhere close to finished. Melissa and Nicole laughed again, helplessly, at the top of their lungs as the tickling filled their universe. They weren’t struggling any more, all powers of resistance had been tickled out of them. Their laughter filled the air, Nicole’s soprano and Melissa’s mezzosoprano, in ticklish two-part harmony. It went on and on, for a very long time indeed.
***
Jason Gerard opened the passenger door and helped his grandmother to get out of the car. Grandma Gerard had gotten frail in the last few years, and unsteady on her feet, but she was too stubborn to use a cane. Fortunately, though, she didn’t object to a little help when she needed it.
Mary Margaret Kilmartin had grown up on a County Cork potato farm in the Irish Free State. She was 17 when World War II started. She took the train north to Belfast to take a war job at the Harland & Wolff shipyard. She told her new friends, only half joking, “T’was the only way I could get the mud oot from between me toes!” There, she had met and married an American sailor named George Gerard, whose ship had been drydocked for repairs.
She had been in America since 1946. Her brogue had faded over the years, but lately it had started to come back again. Jason figured that was a bad sign. Grandma was becoming forgetful, maybe the reappearance of the brogue meant that she was regressing to her long-ago youth as well.
Her extended family were dutiful, visited her regularly, included her in their lives. Still, she had been lonely since George died. She had become a regular at Confession on Saturday afternoons, in part because the priest was a fellow countryman.
Francis X. Finucane was one of the thousands of Irish priests recruited by the American church in the 1960’s to make good a shortage of American-born priests. He knew that the old lady had no real sins to confess – at worst, a few normal human failings. Still, he always gave her a penance after hearing her Confession. A few Paternosters maybe, or a dozen Hail Marys, sometimes even a whole Rosary. It made her feel better, and the prayers certainly did her no harm. She enjoyed talking with him afterward, and he didn’t mind a bit. And anyway, it was his job, after all.
The old lady leaned on Jason’s arm as they climbed the steps to the church. But when they got inside, she shook loose and cupped a hand to her ear.
“Listen! Do ye hear it?” she demanded.
“Yes, Grandma,” he replied. There was an odd sound coming from down the corridor, in the direction of the kitchen and the hall. Laughter? There’s nothing wrong with Grandma’s hearing, Jason thought.
“Come along, me lad,” she said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this!”
They moved down the corridor, following the sound to its source. Definitely laughter. Two young women, it sounded like, laughing like crazy.
Jason pushed the door open a few inches. He and his grandmother looked in.
Incredible! Melissa Gabreski and Nicole Wade, tied up in chairs. Vicky and Veronica Righetti, tickling their feet. He knew them all from high school – they had been two years behind him. So the rumors he’d heard about them were true after all!
Grandma tugged at his arm with more strength than he’d thought she had. “Come along, me bhoy!” she said in a fierce whisper.
She pulled him along the corridor toward the annex door. “Take me home, lad,” she said. “I’ll not go to Confession today!”
“Why, Grandma?” he asked, confused. She never missed Confession.
“Have ye gone blind, and deaf as well? Faith, lad, did ye not see what Father Finucane is givin’ fer penance?”
***THE END***
Copyright 2003 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18 years old and has lived on Tickle Street all of her life. She has long, dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She has a bit of an attitude, but it can quickly be destroyed if she's tickled. She's by far the most ticklish person on Tickle Street, and her twin older sisters Vicky and Veronica always take advantage of that.
Joanna Shaw
Joanna is Brittany’s cousin – their mothers are sisters. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has always been the perfect female athlete - her room is filled with trophies. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She always felt invincible due to her greatness in sports, but if she gets tickled, she loses it. She sees her ticklishness as a great weakness, and takes every opportunity to do unto others before they do unto her.
Vicky and Veronica Righetti
Brittany’s older sisters, and Joanna’s cousins. They’re "mirror twins" – identical, but Vicky, the leader, is a lefty (Latin “sinister”) and Veronica is right handed. They’re 20 years old, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. Like Brittany, they’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
Nicole Wade
A little beauty, 20 years old, with crystal blue eyes and bright blonde hair, and a very trim and shapely body. Very serious, a first-born overachiever. She’s a Sophomore Pre-Med major at Commonwealth University, a long drive away from Tieson City. She’s extremely ticklish, but has only recently become a participant in the Tickle Street action.
Melissa Gabreski
Melissa is attractive with great curves, dark hazel eyes, and long brown hair with blonde streaks. She's also very shy. She’s 20 years old, has lived on Tickle Street her whole life but until recently had few friends outside of her parents and Michael, her younger brother. She's super ticklish, which only adds to her shyness, and thinks it’s weird to be so ticklish like she is.
********************
“There!” said Brittany, finishing the hogtie. Her cousin Joanna was on her tummy on the floor of Brittany's room. Joanna squirmed, strained against the bonds, but nylon stockings – even torn ones – were about as strong as steel cable.
The two girls had studied together for their Chemistry test the week before, and had a wager over who would get the best grade. Brittany had edged Joanna out by two points. Now, on this Saturday afternoon, a week before Easter, Brittany was going to collect her forfeit.
The jeans and long sleeve shirts appropriate to the season weren’t conducive to whole body tickling, but foot tickling would be easy enough. Brittany kneeled at Joanna’s feet and slipped off her backless sneakers, exposing her bare feet. She traced one perfectly manicured nail along the tips of Joanna’s toes, then down the right sole and arch to the heel.
“Hehehehe!” Joanna giggled. “Don’t…haha…tease…hehe…me-hehehehe! Get it…hahaha…over with!”
“You asked for it!” said Brittany, and went to work, fingers flying. Joanna burst into wild, uncontrollable ticklish laughter.
Brittany was a highly skilled tickler – she had had lots of practice. She traced circles, squares and other tickling shapes on Joanna’s feet. She held back her toes and tickled under them, then held the toes apart and tickled the soft skin in between. And now two-hand tickling, while Joanna laughed and squirmed. Brittany’s fingernails flicked across the soles, the arches, the heels, and then onto THE SPOT – a place on the arch, just in front of the heel – where it really, really tickled. Joanna’s laughter went off the scale, and she lapsed into ticklish delirium.
The door burst open. Brittany gave a startled yelp, and the tickling stopped. Joanna heard sounds of a struggle. “GOTCHA!” two female voices shouted in triumphant chorus – Vicky and Veronica!
The twins were fiendish, inventive and enthusiastic ticklers – they had tickled Joanna silly more times than she could count. Joanna blinked away tears of laughter and gasped for air. She saw that they had jumped Brittany and wrestled her down to the floor next to herself.
Brittany didn’t bother to struggle any more. She knew that she was had – her only choice now was whether or not she would be tired when her sisters started tickling her. She had wisely decided to save her strength.
Brittany was already barefoot – she hadn’t bothered to put on socks or shoes today. The twins hogtied her with more old nylons. A house full of women generates amazing quantities of the things – Brittany and her sisters saved them and put them to good use.
“I thought you two gave up tickling for Lent!” Brittany said accusingly.
“We’re backsliding a little,” Veronica replied, kneeling at Brittany’s feet.
“We’ll do some penance,” Vicky added, kneeling by Joanna.
“But first…”
“…you two…”
“…are gonna get it!” they finished in chorus.
Vicky dusted Joanna’s soles with an old-fashioned badger bristle shaving brush. Joanna howled with forced mirth. Veronica flicked a fingernail between Brittany’s left little toe and the next, then moved along, tickling between each pair. Brittany bucked, arched her back and laughed her head off.
Vicky was an upper body tickler by preference, but this was too good to pass up – she dusted Joanna’s feet with the shaving brush, switched to an electric tooth brush for some toe tickling, a hair brush on the heels, then more toe tickling, pulling a piece of twine back and forth between Joanna’s toes. Veronica, the foot tickler of the pair, was content to use her fingernails – she tickled Brittany’s soles two-handed, watching the toes twitch and curl, then down the arches and onto the ticklish heels.
The twins tickled the younger girls into the zone and held them there, laughing helplessly. Brittany and Joanna laughed and laughed, their sweet ticklish laughter filling the room, for a long, long time. Finally, both twins finished in THE SPOT – the same on both victims – and reduced Brittany and Joanna to gasping, red faced silent laughter.
“Hey, sis! We’re gonna have to do penance for this anyway…” Vicky began.
“…so we might as well get our money’s worth!” Veronica completed the thought. “I’ll tickle Joanna this time.”
“Please… no more…” Joanna gasped.
“Save… your… breath,” Brittany said.
And she was right – they needed it. This time, both twins scrabbled and scratched their nails in THE SPOT and nowhere else. Brittany and Joanna laughed at the top of their lungs. They had all resistance tickled out of them. All they could do was lay there and laugh – and laugh – and laugh some more.
The twins eased off occasionally, tickled onto the girls’ heels, or up the arches to the soles, but always came back to THE SPOT. It went on and on, for what seemed like forever. At last, the twins’ tickling fingers picked up speed, and Brittany and Joanna laughed themselves breathless once again.
Brittany and Joanna laid there panting, sweaty, trying to get their heart rates back to normal. Vicky produced her balisong and cut the bonds on Brittany’s wrists. “Here ya go, little sis,” she said. “Feel free to tickle Joanna some more.”
“We’re gonna go to Confession at the church,” Veronica added.
“See you later,” they said in chorus.
***
Nicole parked in a Visitor slot at Our Lady of Victory Roman Catholic Church that Saturday afternoon. Unlike her friend Melissa, she was a Methodist – though lately, her church attendance could most charitably be described as “irregular.”
“In here, Nicole!” Melissa called out from the door of the church annex.
Nicole had come home from Commonwealth University on spring break; Melissa was local, a commuter student at Tieson City College majoring in Theater. Neither girl had a party-hearty spring-break personality – Melissa was painfully shy, Nicole was always very much under control. Furthermore, Nicole was mindful of the cost of a medical education – money she didn’t spend was money she wouldn’t have to borrow. And anyway, this gave them a chance to renew their old friendship.
Nicole locked the Saturn and followed her friend inside. To the left of the door, a corridor led past a meeting room and the church office to the sanctuary. They went straight ahead, past the kitchen to the hall.
When her church Young Adult group decided to do a play, Melissa tried out for a small part and was accepted. Rehearsals would start the weekend after Easter. She volunteered to do scenery too – she had more artistic talent than most of the others. That was today’s program, and Nicole had volunteered to help.
The scenery was four big wood-and-canvas flats, laid out horizontally on drop cloths. Some of the guys had moved them – the flats had been painted so many times that the girls couldn’t have lifted them. Melissa had painted them flat white yesterday, and sketched the scenery on them this morning with a carpenter’s pencil. Now they needed to finish the job. It would be like doing a very large Paint-by-Number.
Like Melissa, Nicole was dressed in her oldest jeans and sweat shirt. They got to work, and made much faster progress than Melissa had thought they would. They found that they didn’t need to use masking tape at all. Nicole’s hands were rock steady – she would someday become a superb surgeon. Nicole did all of the edging, with Melissa filling in the big spaces in between.
Melissa had brought a thermos of tea. They took a break after the first two flats, and passed the time in conversation. Then back to work – they had it down to a science by now, and finished the other two flats in less than an hour.
Nicole gathered up the brushes in a bucket. They had been using water base paint – Melissa directed her friend to the janitor’s closet to wash them. It was located inside the men’s restroom down the hall, but that was no big deal. The only other people in the building were Father Finucane and whoever came to see him for Confession – and they were in the sanctuary, not the annex.
Melissa had just about finished cleaning up when the door to the hall opened. She looked up, expecting to see Nicole, but… Vicky and Veronica Righetti! What were they doing here?
“Hi, Melissa!” Vicky called out.
“We were here…” Veronica continued.
“… for Confession…”
“…and we saw…”
“ the lights on…”
“…so we thought we’d…”
“…check it out,” they finished in chorus.
Nothing good can come of this, thought Melissa. Still, in the spirit of Christian fellowship, I’ll try to be friendly to them.
“Well, come on in and see what we’ve done,” Melissa invited. Nicole would be back soon. It would be OK.
“What’s all this?” Vicky asked.
“Scenery for the play we’re doing this spring,” Melissa replied. “Nicole and I painted it this afternoon. We’re just finishing up – she’s down the hall washing the brushes.”
“A play? Does it have any villains in it?” Veronica asked.
Here it comes! thought Melissa. “No,” she said. “It’s a comedy.”
“Too bad – Veronica and I would have been great villains,” Vicky said. “Listen!”
“MUA-HAHAHAHA!” the twins laughed.
“The laugh is a little overdone, don’t you think?” asked Melissa. She was starting to feel uneasy by now.
Vicky’s eyes met Veronica’s, and a silent message passed between them. “Show us how you would do it,” Vicky said, and the twins closed in on Melissa.
“Hey! What are you… Stop!” Melissa said. But the twins grabbed her and bulldogged her down onto the floor. Vicky sat on the struggling girl while Veronica went in search of bondage material. She found some cotton clothesline, cut some pieces, and Vicky tied Melissa’s hands behind her back while Veronica pulled off her shoes and socks and tied her ankles together.
They were about to complete the hogtie when Nicole came back into the hall. She had been in the janitor’s closet with the water running, and hadn’t heard them. She was taken by surprise – before she could run, the twins had her. They tied her up like Melissa. She had been wearing Birkenstock slides without socks, and had lost one in the struggle. Vicky pulled the other shoe off and dropped it on the floor.
“HELP!” Nicole yelled.
“Don’t waste your time,” Vicky said.
“Father Finucane is pretty deaf – no way will he hear you from all the way over in the sanctuary,” Veronica added.
Nicole strained against the bonds. It was no use – these two were just too good at what they did.
“Hey sis,” Vicky said. “I’d rather not kneel on a wood floor for the next half hour. Let’s do this in comfort. There’s some chairs over there along the wall…”
“…that we can use for a chair tie, and seats too,” Veronica completed the thought.
The chairs were the bent-cane type, the 1930’s version of inexpensive utility chairs. The twins dragged four of them over next to the other girls and set them up in side-by-side facing pairs. They lifted Melissa into one, passed loops of rope around her waist and shoulders and the chair back, put her bound feet through the back of the facing chair and tied her ankles to the canes at the top. They repeated the process with Nicole, then went back for two more chairs.
“Plenty of nice clean paint brushes here,” Vicky said. She selected one from the bucket and moved a chair to Melissa’s feet. “It would be a shame not to use them.”
“Suit yourself,” Veronica said, taking a seat at Nicole’s feet. “I can do better with my nails.”
And indeed she could! Veronica held Nicole’s toes back and tickled side to side across the stretched out soles. Nicole threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs. Her feet were off-the scale ticklish on the exact middle of the soles, along the crease, and onto the arch behind. Veronica knew all about it – she had tickled Nicole before. Her fingers flew, scratching the center of the right sole, across the balls of both feet, and onto the center of the left. Nicole howled with forced mirth, laughing like mad.
Vicky started slow, teasing the tips of Melissa’s toes with the bristles, producing a stream of little giggles. She circled the balls of both feet in a figure-eight, and the giggles were continuous. And then she flicked the brush up and down on the soles, and side to side, and the giggles turned to all-out laughter. She circled the brush in Melissa’s arches, flicked the heels, and then concentrated her effort on the arches just ahead of the heels. The tickling bristles flicked, faster now, and Melissa laughed her head off.
The twins were good – very good. They held their victims on the edge, never let them zone out, always let them get just enough air to laugh. They kept it until Melissa and Nicole thought they would go crazy. They finished at warp speed and tickled both of their victims breathless.
Time to take a break. Melissa and Nicole sat there, sweaty, red faced, hair messed up. Their ribs and abs were sore from laughing.
“Y’know, sis, we’re gonna have to go back to Confession after this,” Vicky said.
“Yah. This is a new record for us,” Veronica said. “We crashed and burned less than five minutes after our last Confession. Father Finucane will be so disappointed in us.”
“Well… Once again, let’s get our money’s worth,” said Vicky. “Trade with me.”
“Oh… no…” Melissa gasped.
“Ple-hehehe-ease!” Nicole begged as Vicky flicked the brush across her soles.
But the quality of mercy is not strained. It has lumps – tickle torture, for example – and Vicky and Veronica were nowhere close to finished. Melissa and Nicole laughed again, helplessly, at the top of their lungs as the tickling filled their universe. They weren’t struggling any more, all powers of resistance had been tickled out of them. Their laughter filled the air, Nicole’s soprano and Melissa’s mezzosoprano, in ticklish two-part harmony. It went on and on, for a very long time indeed.
***
Jason Gerard opened the passenger door and helped his grandmother to get out of the car. Grandma Gerard had gotten frail in the last few years, and unsteady on her feet, but she was too stubborn to use a cane. Fortunately, though, she didn’t object to a little help when she needed it.
Mary Margaret Kilmartin had grown up on a County Cork potato farm in the Irish Free State. She was 17 when World War II started. She took the train north to Belfast to take a war job at the Harland & Wolff shipyard. She told her new friends, only half joking, “T’was the only way I could get the mud oot from between me toes!” There, she had met and married an American sailor named George Gerard, whose ship had been drydocked for repairs.
She had been in America since 1946. Her brogue had faded over the years, but lately it had started to come back again. Jason figured that was a bad sign. Grandma was becoming forgetful, maybe the reappearance of the brogue meant that she was regressing to her long-ago youth as well.
Her extended family were dutiful, visited her regularly, included her in their lives. Still, she had been lonely since George died. She had become a regular at Confession on Saturday afternoons, in part because the priest was a fellow countryman.
Francis X. Finucane was one of the thousands of Irish priests recruited by the American church in the 1960’s to make good a shortage of American-born priests. He knew that the old lady had no real sins to confess – at worst, a few normal human failings. Still, he always gave her a penance after hearing her Confession. A few Paternosters maybe, or a dozen Hail Marys, sometimes even a whole Rosary. It made her feel better, and the prayers certainly did her no harm. She enjoyed talking with him afterward, and he didn’t mind a bit. And anyway, it was his job, after all.
The old lady leaned on Jason’s arm as they climbed the steps to the church. But when they got inside, she shook loose and cupped a hand to her ear.
“Listen! Do ye hear it?” she demanded.
“Yes, Grandma,” he replied. There was an odd sound coming from down the corridor, in the direction of the kitchen and the hall. Laughter? There’s nothing wrong with Grandma’s hearing, Jason thought.
“Come along, me lad,” she said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this!”
They moved down the corridor, following the sound to its source. Definitely laughter. Two young women, it sounded like, laughing like crazy.
Jason pushed the door open a few inches. He and his grandmother looked in.
Incredible! Melissa Gabreski and Nicole Wade, tied up in chairs. Vicky and Veronica Righetti, tickling their feet. He knew them all from high school – they had been two years behind him. So the rumors he’d heard about them were true after all!
Grandma tugged at his arm with more strength than he’d thought she had. “Come along, me bhoy!” she said in a fierce whisper.
She pulled him along the corridor toward the annex door. “Take me home, lad,” she said. “I’ll not go to Confession today!”
“Why, Grandma?” he asked, confused. She never missed Confession.
“Have ye gone blind, and deaf as well? Faith, lad, did ye not see what Father Finucane is givin’ fer penance?”
***THE END***
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