MTJpub
09-06-2001, 03:28 AM
From the Story section of the Morandilas's TICKLERS JOURNAL
After Hours
by Johann
It was a Tuesday night and I was staying late at the office, working on a new advertising campaign our company had recently begun. Outside, the monotonous patter of a steady rain against the windows made for a comforting background sound in the quiet of my office studio. Having put the final touches on our initial proposal, I glanced up at the clock and saw it was 8:30pm; far later than I had planned on staying. Cursing my inattentiveness to the hour, I hurriedly grabbed my coat, hit the lights and went out my door.
As I walked towards the stairs, I happened to see Laurie Malone just entering her office. Laurie is one of our accountants and also happens to be one of the most eligible women in the building, a 27 year old brunette with brown eyes, straight shoulder-length hair and a nice pair of legs which she isn't shy about displaying. In fact, much to my delight, she often wears fashionably short skirts and high heels to the office, making her appearance pleasantly distracting to the male eye. I remember once spending the better part of a monthly planning meeting stealing glances at her slim ankles and supple feet, irresistibly sexy in sheer black nylons and a pair of high heeled pumps.
I headed over to Laurie's office and found her sitting at her desk, pensively staring at her computer screen. I lightly tapped on her door and she quickly glanced up, somewhat startled by my unexpected presence. "Oh!" she exclaimed, letting out an obvious sigh of relief upon recognizing me, "It's you Michael. I thought everyone else had left. Why are you here so late?" I explained about the new ad campaign and my desire to get a head start on it. She herself was going over several old accounts, trying to clear the books on them. "Listen," I said, "I'm just on my way out. Why don't you close up shop and we can both stop for a drink somewhere." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then frowned. "I'd like to but I really should finish going over these figures. Maybe another night?"
"Sure," I said, giving her my winningest smile and trying to conceal my disappointment. I had tried coaxing her into a date several times before and gotten nowhere. The fact that she had actually considered the idea for a minute and given me a green light for some other time was a victory in itself of sorts. I should have been happy with that and said my good-byes but, as often happens when I get close to an attractive woman, reality was giving way to fantasy in my rapidly overheating imagination, even as we continued chatting about this and that.
I was envisioning her sitting atop the copying machine wearing a black lace bustier and sheer black stockings, with her legs crossed and a kittenish look in her eyes. This fleeting daydream seemed likely to remain in the realm of fantasy, however, since Laurie, though stylish in her choice of fashion, is rather staid and conservative in her manners; quite bookish and somewhat prim, like a stereotypical CPA. She almost always displays a serious look and rarely allows her sense of humor to show through. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her laugh out loud at anything. And she has such a sexy laugh. How could I get her to loosen up a little? Corny jokes wouldn't do. Nor the randier ones I knew either, given her outward demeanor. Hmmmmmm. A crazy thought suggested itself. Maybe she's ticklish....
Laurie made a comment I didn't quite catch and I nodded my head sympathetically. She must be ticklish, I thought to myself. Everyone is. It's just a matter of where and to what degree. My train of thought was inexorably gathering steam as I considered the possibilities. How ticklish do you suppose she is? I wondered. And where is she likely the most ticklish? Her ribs? Her feet? Under her arms? Where would I start if were going to...?
I knew the longer I stood this close to her, eyeing those womanly curves and thinking how sensitive to the touch they might be, the more likely I would yield to temptation and do something reckless. Again, I should have come to my senses and left by the nearest exit, but desire was fast overcoming good judgement. She was young and available and I badly wanted to ravish her lovely physique. All I needed was an excuse to set things in motion without looking like a typically clumsy male lout. I was wracking my brain over this when she unexpectedly provided me with the very opportunity I was looking for.
Leaning back in her chair, Laurie clasped her hands behind her head and stretched, inadvertently pulling her blouse taut and nicely defining her small well-rounded breasts. I struggled to keep my eyes on her face. "I am so stiff from sitting in this chair all day," she said, idly swiveling back and forth. Was this an invitation to something? I couldn't be sure but an opening was an opening and I had to chance it. I replied as casually as possible, "Nothing that a good neck rub couldn't fix." I fully expected her to ignore or politely decline my suggestion, for it seemed too transparent a ploy, even as I said it.
"Oh...I don't know..." she said, looking at me somewhat blankly as she slowly turned the idea over in her mind, "Do you really think it's appropriate? I mean, being as how we're at the office?" I looked to my right, then to my left and grinned at her. "I won't tell if you won't." She smiled at that remark and said shyly, "Well, it would be nice." Needing no further encouragement, I stepped around her desk and stood behind her as she gathered her long hair in one hand and pulled it aside to expose the back of her slender neck. I brought my hands up to either side of it, noting how gracefully it curved down to her shoulders; then I lightly touched my fingertips to her skin. Thrilling to this first intimate physical contact with her, I began gingerly massaging her neck and shoulders and mentally breathed a sigh of relief when I saw her visibly relaxing.
Gaining some confidence, I gently kneaded her stiff muscles (and felt one of my own getting stiff) gliding my fingers up and down her shoulder blades as she moaned with obvious satisfaction, slowly nodding her head from side to side. "That is soooo nice...." My self-control was slipping by degrees. The muted scent of her perfume, the sight of her stockinged legs under the desk, the warmth and softness of her body, all were contributing to that strange dizzy state of arousal a man so quickly and willingly surrenders himself to.
Working my way down, I asked her to lean forward a bit so I could reach her lower back and she obliged. Now was my chance. As I dropped my hands towards her waist I "accidentally" brushed them along her ribs and she reflexively arched her back, taking a sharp breath. "What's wrong?" I asked innocently. She half turned and looked at me with a mixture of surprise and pleasurable alarm on her face. "N-nothing...that, um...just sort of tickled a little, that's all," she said, hesitantly settling back in her chair and clearly debating to herself whether my slip was intentional or not. I moved swiftly to settle any doubt. "Tickled where, here?" I asked, gently poking her in the sides. Laurie jumped. "Stop that!" she scolded me, but she was smiling. Wasn't she? Again I lightly tickled her in the ribs and this time she giggled out loud, quickly pulling her arms protectively to her sides and instinctively leaning forward and crossing her legs; this made the hem of her skirt hike up and exposed even more of her stockinged thighs. Heavenly sight!
"Are you really that ticklish?" I asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised. Still in a defensive crouch, she threw me an accusing glance over her shoulder. "Yes! And don't you dare try any more." She may as well have tossed a lighted match into a pool of gasoline. "You mean like this?" I asked, reaching around with both hands and frisking her again. This time she let out a shriek and jumped up from her seat, whirling around to face me. She stood there a moment, obviously flustered and uncertain how to react to this provocation. There was a hint of fear mingled with anticipation in her eyes, and (I thought) a welling excitement too. Maybe that last was wishful thinking but it didn't change the fact that she was alone in an office building with a man trying to tickle her and she, for good reason, wanted very much to avoid being tickled.
She backed away slowly, warily eyeing me as she edged around the front of her desk. "Now Michael," she said, trying to gain control of the situation by taking an authoritative tack, "we really should be getting home, shouldn't we." But this last statement ended in a rising tone that betrayed her uncertainty about accomplishing that goal. I started moving towards her; the idea of chasing her around the office was suddenly very appealing; at the least it would give me a chance to watch her skirt fly up as she ran ahead of me, showing off those long nylon-sheathed legs of hers, rhythmically pumping up and down in terrified flight. Who could resist that?
I suddenly lunged for her around the corner of the desk, making a half-hearted grab for her wrist. This produced the expected reaction: she bolted towards the door and out into the hallway, shrieking. I sprinted after her. The game was decidedly afoot!
My ticklish quarry, however, proved more elusive than I anticipated, given her feminine footwear; even in high heels she was quick and graceful on her feet. With each long stride she wobbled a bit precariously, then expertly caught her balance as her 4-inch heels dug into the carpeting. My eyes remained fastened on the sight of her trim athletic legs. Every time her skirt flew up I got a brief tantalizing glimpse of the tops of her stockings, nicely contrasted against her smooth bare thighs.
After ten minutes of chasing her through the halls and main offices, I finally caught up with her in the director's office when she stumbled and dropped to the thickly carpeted floor. She scrambled to her knees, trying to get up, but I was already on top of her, pressing her back down to the floor again. Like a lion that knows it must quickly incapacitate its prey, I immediately dug my fingers into her sides and began tickling her there without mercy.
First there were muffled giggles and cries of protest. "Michael, STOP it! What are you DOING??? Let me go-ho-ho-ho!!" Then increasingly wild laughter as she twisted helplessly underneath me, unable to escape my nimble fingers feverishly probing her soft anatomy. "Michael no! Stop! STOP IT! PLEA-HEE-HEASE!! STOP TICKLING MEEEEEEE!!!" Fast succumbing to fits of uncontrollable laughter, Laurie instinctively rolled onto her back, furiously kicking out with her long legs and trying desperately to lever me off. But every time she tried to get up, I had only to goose her in the ribs and she would quickly collapse back to the floor with a scream of girlish laughter.
By now Laurie was becoming pretty frantic so I stopped for a minute to let her recover, patiently waiting as her near-hysterical laughter gradually subsided. She lay there smiling up at me, panting, her face flush, her eyes bright and excited. "Michael....Michael, let me up," she said breathlessly. "Let me up or I'll scream." What good that would do in an empty building I couldn't fathom. I tried to be patient. "Laurie, we're the only one's here this late." I was leaning directly over her, straddling her waist, my hands pinning her wrists to the floor behind her head. I grinned down at her. "That means no one to rescue you from my evil clutches."
She struggled again briefly to throw me off but I kept her firmly pinned. Laurie stopped and rested her head back on the carpeting, breathing hard from her exertions. "Michael....Michael let me go. This isn't fair you know." "What isn't, that I've discovered your little weakness?" "Meaning?" "Meaning I like hearing you laugh. And if you're even half as ticklish as you seem to be you're going to be doing a lot more of it." Laurie's eyes widened and she let out a high-pitched whimper. "Oh no, Michael please. You...oh you wouldn't! Michael get off of me. You're taking advantage!"
Normally impeccably groomed, Laurie now looked pleasingly rumpled and disheveled. Her hair was mussed, she was sweaty and her blouse was pulling out of her skirt, revealing a narrow band of delectably bare midriff. This last made for an irresistible target. Holding her arms down with one hand, I ran my other hand like a small white mouse up under her blouse, lightly fingering her ribcage and playfully poking her in the tummy. Almost immediately she again started twisting and squirming. "N-no!! Ahh! D-don't!" she gasped, smiling in spite of herself and trying unsuccessfully to contain her laughter.
Excited by Laurie's struggles and her obvious vulnerability, I began to tickle her faster, running my fingers spider-like up and down her sides, under her arms and all over her naked tummy. Within moments I had her laughing and screaming uncontrollably and begging me to stop. But I continued ruthlessly tickling her, letting up only occasionally so she could catch her breath, then starting in on her again, until I had tickled her into a state of near-hysteria. After a few more minutes I finally stopped, much to her relief. She lay there gasping for air, still laughing weakly.
Meantime another idea suggested itself. Undoing my tie, I looped it around her wrists, knotted them together and tied her to one of the legs of the director's desk. She moaned in protest but was still too weak with laughter to offer much resistance. In a moment, she was nicely stretched out before me with her arms above her head, a helpless captive totally at my mercy. It was an exhilarating sight.
"Michael, PLEASE let me go!" she said, starting to sound desperate, for she well knew what was in store for her now. "I promise I won't tell anyone you did this." Laurie had on a pair of shiny black high heel pumps and I began removing them from her feet with exaggerated slowness. "Michael, please, please don't tickle me anymore! I can't stand it. I really can't. I'll do anything for you if you just let me go." I smiled. That offer raised a lot of interesting possibilities but I was already having too much fun to stop now. I tossed her shoes aside and unzipped her skirt, pulling it off over her squirming hips. Then I unbuttoned her blouse and draped it open, leaving her ticklish midsection completely bare and deliciously vulnerable. Her only claims to modesty now were the black lace bikini panties and push-up bra she had on underneath.
I sat back down on the floor and rested her stockinged feet in my lap, using the crook of my left arm to hold her ankles firmly together. Having her feet this close within reach was a fantasy come true: from her slim ankles to her delicate high arches and softly rounded heels. I savored that sight for a moment, then turned to Laurie and said: "Mmmm, these two little feet are so sexy." I brought my right hand up and lightly traced a forefinger across the tops of her stockinged toes. She shivered slightly, staring at my finger as if mesmerized by it. "Tell me, are they ticklish too?" I teasingly asked. Her eyes darted toward mine and the panicked look she gave me clearly betrayed the answer. "Michael you wouldn't! Oh please, not that! No!" I crooked my right index finger and started bringing it slowly towards the bottoms of her feet. Her face broke into a contorted smile, filled with a mixture of fear and apprehension.
"Michael, please! I'm begging you. Don't tickle me there!" She was twisting her pretty legs in a futile effort to avoid the inevitable and I was pleased to see her becoming increasingly agitated at the thought of what was coming next. I wiggled my fingers threateningly towards the soles of her feet and said, "Here they come Laurie, kitchie-kitchie-coo-hoo, I'm gonna tickle yooou..." Resigned to her fate, Laurie dropped her head back and began laughing. "No-no-no!! Michael, let go of me, let go!!" I finally made contact, dragging the tip of my right forefinger against the arch of her foot. Her leg reflexively jerked in response but I was keeping a tight grip on her ankles. "Stop it! No-ho-ho!! Not my feet, Michael, please!" She was grinning at me like mad, her teeth clenched to keep from laughing. To laugh out loud was to give in and she wasn't about to do that again if she could help it.
I ran my fingertips up and down the length of her soft tender soles, tracing lazy circles against her heels and lightly grazing the pads of her toes too. I worked them over very slowly and deliberately, letting the tension build and reveling in the slick texture of her nylons under my fingers. I wanted to savor the feel of tormenting her feet and the delightful reactions it provoked from her. With each stroke across her soles, Laurie would take a sudden sharp breath, jerk her leg back and smile involuntarily. Her initial look of bewildered astonishment had given way to one of giddy anticipation each time I brought my fingers up towards her feet.
She was still resisting heroically so I started tickling her a little faster, jumping from the left to the right foot and back again. Her legs jerked spasmodically every time I brushed the bottoms of her feet and she twisted her lithe body from side to side in reaction to the unbearably ticklish sensations racing up her stockinged legs, whimpering plaintively and pulling hard on her wrist restraint; but there was no escape.
I grinned down at her. "Come on, Laurie, give in. You know how ticklish you are. You're just too stubborn to admit it. All you have to do is be a good girl and tell me you're ticklish." She shook her head defiantly, grinning and biting her lower lip to keep from laughing as my fingers danced lightly across her insteps. Leaning even closer and looking her straight in the eyes I said, "Tell me or I won't stop..." At this she began struggling even harder, blinking back tears. Sensing victory, I decided to give her a push over the edge. I gave the sole of her foot one last scratch, threw her feet aside and suddenly goosed her hard in the ribs.
The effect was electrifying. Taken by surprise, she let out an ear-piercing scream and burst out laughing. Then I dove for her underarms, relentlessly tickling her up and down her unprotected sides, across her taut ribs and all over her bare tummy until I had her convulsed with laughter and screaming hysterically. "NO-HO-HO-HOOOO!! STOP IT, PLEASE! MICHAEL! AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAHHHHHHHH!!!" Goosing her repeatedly in the ribs, I asked her again: "Are you or aren't you ticklish?" "NO! I'M NOT! I'M NOT!!" she gasped, still playing the stubborn young schoolgirl in spite of her increasing distress.
I let up on her midsection and went back to running my fingers up and down the soles of her stockinged feet. This sent Laurie absolutely ballistic: she bucked and wriggled like a worm on a hook, alternately laughing and screaming and breathlessly pleading for mercy; but the sounds of her increasingly hysterical laughter, the sight of her helplessly writhing form and her delectably heightened ticklishness only served to increase my own excitement and fueled a perverse desire to torment her all the more.
I continued tickling her ribs and tummy, the backs of her thighs and under her arms until her screams of laughter turned to long tearful sobs. Nearly out of her mind with pleasure and unable to endure another moment of being tickled, she finally cried out: "YEH-HEH-HEH-HEHSSS! I'M TICKLISH, I'M TICKLISH!! OH-HO-HO-HO-HAH-HAHHHHH! STOP! STOP IT, PLEA-HEE- HEE-HEASE! OH GOD! I CA-....I CAN'T TAKE THIS!!"
Satisfied at having tickled her into complete submission, I at last let up. Laurie was out of breath, hopelessly giddy and utterly limp from her ticklish ordeal. She lay there a moment, staring up at the ceiling, a vacant smile across her face, her stomach still visibly rising and falling with every deep breath she took. "Oh...oh god," she panted, "I thought.......I thought you'd never stop...." Looking down at her, I felt strangely moved to pity and quickly moved to untie her from the desk.
"Thank you," she said softly, slowly sitting up and rubbing her wrists. There was a long awkward silence as she worked to restore full circulation again in her hands. "Laurie," I said, feeling suddenly guilty, "I'm....I'm really sorry about what just happened. I, um, I just don't know what came over me." The implications of what I had just done to her were only now dawning on me and I clumsily groped for an explanation. "It's just that...when I found you sitting there in your office I...well, I had this crazy desire to try tickling you and...I, um, guess I got a little carried away." It sounded incredibly lame even as I said it.
She looked at me in obvious disbelief. "A little carried away???" I winced at the tone of her words. My impetuous actions had left me twisting in the wind and she well knew it. "You know by rights I ought to pick up a phone, call the police and have you charged with assault." She fixed me with a determined gaze, the kind stern schoolteachers reserve for misbehaving schoolboys. "W-well of course you'd be within your rights," I stammered, realizing she was now the one wielding the stick. "And I deserve w-whatever consequences may re-..." "But I won't," she said, a smile spreading slowly over her face. "Y-you what???" My relief at hearing these words must have looked quite comical for she suddenly laughed aloud. "I said I won't. Under one condition..."
I swallowed hard. Having dug myself into a deep and dangerous hole, she was now offering me a chance for redemption and I realized I had to agree to it, whatever that might mean. I waited expectantly as she slowly buttoned up her blouse. "You know," she said, smiling absentmindedly to herself, "I don't think I've been tickled like that since I was a kid. I thought I would absolutely die laughing." She got to her feet, stepped into her skirt and zipped it back up, smoothing it out and then looking around for her shoes.
"There was this one time, a summer afternoon...I was maybe fifteen or sixteen. I was pestering my three older brothers, being bratty the way sisters sometimes are, and suddenly they turned and started chasing me through the house. I ran up to my bedroom but they followed after and wrestled me onto my bed. They said to me, "We're going to tie you up so you can't bother us anymore." And they did. They grabbed some of my stockings out of my dresser drawer and tied me down spread-eagle to the bed. I don't know what gave them the next idea, maybe because I had a halter-top on and my tummy was showing, but as they were standing there looking over their handiwork a light bulb must have gone on and one of them said, "Let's tickle her!"
"They pulled my shoes off and started in on my feet. Boy did I scream! I've always been extremely ticklish and as soon as they touched my feet I started laughing hysterically. I begged them to stop but our parents were away and my brothers were free to take their time; they tickled me everywhere....well, almost everywhere." Laurie gave me a quick knowing grin. She knelt down and pulled one of her high heels from under the director's desk. "Of course all the while they were tickling me it was absolute agony. I pleaded with them to let me go but later on I realized I had actually enjoyed it. I know that sounds crazy..." She slipped her other pump onto her foot.
"I remember feeling this absolutely delicious sense of helplessness when they were holding me down and tying my wrists and ankles up. I knew what they might do too. I mean when you've got someone tied down and they're laying there all stretched out and helpless with their belly showing, what's the first thought that pops into your head? Would they think of doing that? I didn't know and that's what made it so unbearable, waiting to see if they would.
She glanced down at her stockings and sighed. "Nuts, I have a run." I looked too, just to be polite. She looked back up at me, arched her brow and said, "I wonder how that happened." I tried to look suitably abashed as she continued. "Anyway, it seemed like they spent hours tormenting me. It was probably closer to 45 minutes but you know how skewed your perception gets when you're on the receiving end. By the time they finished with me I was so exhausted I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I found they had untied me. We never said a word to each other about it and I certainly never mentioned it to our parents.
"What's really weird is that, as much as I protested and swore at them while they were tickling me, afterwards I secretly hoped they would do it to me again. It was such a rush to be so completely helpless and physically vulnerable. I'd never felt that before. Sometimes I'd lay in bed at night and re-run the whole thing over and over in my mind, remembering every detail of how they tied me down and seeing my oldest brother slowly bringing his hands towards my outstretched ribs and threatening to tickle me. It had driven me wild, absolutely wild, but I loved that. They wouldn't even be touching me yet and I'd be laughing like an idiot, already imagining how it would feel when he finally pressed his fingers against my bare ribs and started tickling me for real.
"They never tied me up again but I could still get them to tickle me once in a while, especially if I was barefoot or wore something skimpy, like a bikini during the summer. But after I went off to college, I missed the intensity of that one experience. The few boys I dated were unfailingly polite and well-mannered. I never really knew how to tell them what I wanted anyway. What would they have thought if I had said, "Let's play some bondage games!" Maybe I should have tried at least, but now...." Her voice trailed off and I couldn't resist blurting out: "You mentioned a condition?"
The faraway look in her eyes faded and her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Yes, the condition." She looked directly at me and said: "The condition is that I want to know what it feels like to be on the other end. I want to pay you back for tonight by putting you through the same torment you inflicted on me. Then we'll be even up."
I gulped. I suppose I should have expected this, but the prospect of Laurie turning the tables on me and giving me a taste of my own medicine I found both terrifying and arousing. Terrifying because I would be willingly at her mercy (rather an uncertain quality at this point, given her desire to avenge my surprise attack) and unsure of just how far she might go. Arousing because the thought of a woman tying me up and tickling me insensible was a long-held secret fantasy that I had dared not share with any previous woman I'd known intimately. Now that opportunity was dropping in my lap!
I reluctantly agreed to her proposal, or at least tried to look reluctant in order not to undermine her obvious satisfaction with the deal. "My place," she said. "Next Tuesday night, 7:30pm sharp. I have a four-poster. And, uh, make sure you bring several of your nicer-looking silk ties." I nodded obediently. "And what will you be wearing to this event?" I asked. It sounded impertinent but I had to know. She paused before answering, wetting her lips and leveling her brown eyes straight at mine. "Ohhh…sheer black stockings, 5-inch heels and a black lace bustier. Will that do?" she asked, smiling and arching her left eyebrow. "Yes, it will do," I said, already imagining how she would look and smell and feel. "Very nicely, I think," and suddenly laughed. Fantasy? Reality? Which was which? And was she in mine or was I in hers?
- END -
After Hours
by Johann
It was a Tuesday night and I was staying late at the office, working on a new advertising campaign our company had recently begun. Outside, the monotonous patter of a steady rain against the windows made for a comforting background sound in the quiet of my office studio. Having put the final touches on our initial proposal, I glanced up at the clock and saw it was 8:30pm; far later than I had planned on staying. Cursing my inattentiveness to the hour, I hurriedly grabbed my coat, hit the lights and went out my door.
As I walked towards the stairs, I happened to see Laurie Malone just entering her office. Laurie is one of our accountants and also happens to be one of the most eligible women in the building, a 27 year old brunette with brown eyes, straight shoulder-length hair and a nice pair of legs which she isn't shy about displaying. In fact, much to my delight, she often wears fashionably short skirts and high heels to the office, making her appearance pleasantly distracting to the male eye. I remember once spending the better part of a monthly planning meeting stealing glances at her slim ankles and supple feet, irresistibly sexy in sheer black nylons and a pair of high heeled pumps.
I headed over to Laurie's office and found her sitting at her desk, pensively staring at her computer screen. I lightly tapped on her door and she quickly glanced up, somewhat startled by my unexpected presence. "Oh!" she exclaimed, letting out an obvious sigh of relief upon recognizing me, "It's you Michael. I thought everyone else had left. Why are you here so late?" I explained about the new ad campaign and my desire to get a head start on it. She herself was going over several old accounts, trying to clear the books on them. "Listen," I said, "I'm just on my way out. Why don't you close up shop and we can both stop for a drink somewhere." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then frowned. "I'd like to but I really should finish going over these figures. Maybe another night?"
"Sure," I said, giving her my winningest smile and trying to conceal my disappointment. I had tried coaxing her into a date several times before and gotten nowhere. The fact that she had actually considered the idea for a minute and given me a green light for some other time was a victory in itself of sorts. I should have been happy with that and said my good-byes but, as often happens when I get close to an attractive woman, reality was giving way to fantasy in my rapidly overheating imagination, even as we continued chatting about this and that.
I was envisioning her sitting atop the copying machine wearing a black lace bustier and sheer black stockings, with her legs crossed and a kittenish look in her eyes. This fleeting daydream seemed likely to remain in the realm of fantasy, however, since Laurie, though stylish in her choice of fashion, is rather staid and conservative in her manners; quite bookish and somewhat prim, like a stereotypical CPA. She almost always displays a serious look and rarely allows her sense of humor to show through. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her laugh out loud at anything. And she has such a sexy laugh. How could I get her to loosen up a little? Corny jokes wouldn't do. Nor the randier ones I knew either, given her outward demeanor. Hmmmmmm. A crazy thought suggested itself. Maybe she's ticklish....
Laurie made a comment I didn't quite catch and I nodded my head sympathetically. She must be ticklish, I thought to myself. Everyone is. It's just a matter of where and to what degree. My train of thought was inexorably gathering steam as I considered the possibilities. How ticklish do you suppose she is? I wondered. And where is she likely the most ticklish? Her ribs? Her feet? Under her arms? Where would I start if were going to...?
I knew the longer I stood this close to her, eyeing those womanly curves and thinking how sensitive to the touch they might be, the more likely I would yield to temptation and do something reckless. Again, I should have come to my senses and left by the nearest exit, but desire was fast overcoming good judgement. She was young and available and I badly wanted to ravish her lovely physique. All I needed was an excuse to set things in motion without looking like a typically clumsy male lout. I was wracking my brain over this when she unexpectedly provided me with the very opportunity I was looking for.
Leaning back in her chair, Laurie clasped her hands behind her head and stretched, inadvertently pulling her blouse taut and nicely defining her small well-rounded breasts. I struggled to keep my eyes on her face. "I am so stiff from sitting in this chair all day," she said, idly swiveling back and forth. Was this an invitation to something? I couldn't be sure but an opening was an opening and I had to chance it. I replied as casually as possible, "Nothing that a good neck rub couldn't fix." I fully expected her to ignore or politely decline my suggestion, for it seemed too transparent a ploy, even as I said it.
"Oh...I don't know..." she said, looking at me somewhat blankly as she slowly turned the idea over in her mind, "Do you really think it's appropriate? I mean, being as how we're at the office?" I looked to my right, then to my left and grinned at her. "I won't tell if you won't." She smiled at that remark and said shyly, "Well, it would be nice." Needing no further encouragement, I stepped around her desk and stood behind her as she gathered her long hair in one hand and pulled it aside to expose the back of her slender neck. I brought my hands up to either side of it, noting how gracefully it curved down to her shoulders; then I lightly touched my fingertips to her skin. Thrilling to this first intimate physical contact with her, I began gingerly massaging her neck and shoulders and mentally breathed a sigh of relief when I saw her visibly relaxing.
Gaining some confidence, I gently kneaded her stiff muscles (and felt one of my own getting stiff) gliding my fingers up and down her shoulder blades as she moaned with obvious satisfaction, slowly nodding her head from side to side. "That is soooo nice...." My self-control was slipping by degrees. The muted scent of her perfume, the sight of her stockinged legs under the desk, the warmth and softness of her body, all were contributing to that strange dizzy state of arousal a man so quickly and willingly surrenders himself to.
Working my way down, I asked her to lean forward a bit so I could reach her lower back and she obliged. Now was my chance. As I dropped my hands towards her waist I "accidentally" brushed them along her ribs and she reflexively arched her back, taking a sharp breath. "What's wrong?" I asked innocently. She half turned and looked at me with a mixture of surprise and pleasurable alarm on her face. "N-nothing...that, um...just sort of tickled a little, that's all," she said, hesitantly settling back in her chair and clearly debating to herself whether my slip was intentional or not. I moved swiftly to settle any doubt. "Tickled where, here?" I asked, gently poking her in the sides. Laurie jumped. "Stop that!" she scolded me, but she was smiling. Wasn't she? Again I lightly tickled her in the ribs and this time she giggled out loud, quickly pulling her arms protectively to her sides and instinctively leaning forward and crossing her legs; this made the hem of her skirt hike up and exposed even more of her stockinged thighs. Heavenly sight!
"Are you really that ticklish?" I asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised. Still in a defensive crouch, she threw me an accusing glance over her shoulder. "Yes! And don't you dare try any more." She may as well have tossed a lighted match into a pool of gasoline. "You mean like this?" I asked, reaching around with both hands and frisking her again. This time she let out a shriek and jumped up from her seat, whirling around to face me. She stood there a moment, obviously flustered and uncertain how to react to this provocation. There was a hint of fear mingled with anticipation in her eyes, and (I thought) a welling excitement too. Maybe that last was wishful thinking but it didn't change the fact that she was alone in an office building with a man trying to tickle her and she, for good reason, wanted very much to avoid being tickled.
She backed away slowly, warily eyeing me as she edged around the front of her desk. "Now Michael," she said, trying to gain control of the situation by taking an authoritative tack, "we really should be getting home, shouldn't we." But this last statement ended in a rising tone that betrayed her uncertainty about accomplishing that goal. I started moving towards her; the idea of chasing her around the office was suddenly very appealing; at the least it would give me a chance to watch her skirt fly up as she ran ahead of me, showing off those long nylon-sheathed legs of hers, rhythmically pumping up and down in terrified flight. Who could resist that?
I suddenly lunged for her around the corner of the desk, making a half-hearted grab for her wrist. This produced the expected reaction: she bolted towards the door and out into the hallway, shrieking. I sprinted after her. The game was decidedly afoot!
My ticklish quarry, however, proved more elusive than I anticipated, given her feminine footwear; even in high heels she was quick and graceful on her feet. With each long stride she wobbled a bit precariously, then expertly caught her balance as her 4-inch heels dug into the carpeting. My eyes remained fastened on the sight of her trim athletic legs. Every time her skirt flew up I got a brief tantalizing glimpse of the tops of her stockings, nicely contrasted against her smooth bare thighs.
After ten minutes of chasing her through the halls and main offices, I finally caught up with her in the director's office when she stumbled and dropped to the thickly carpeted floor. She scrambled to her knees, trying to get up, but I was already on top of her, pressing her back down to the floor again. Like a lion that knows it must quickly incapacitate its prey, I immediately dug my fingers into her sides and began tickling her there without mercy.
First there were muffled giggles and cries of protest. "Michael, STOP it! What are you DOING??? Let me go-ho-ho-ho!!" Then increasingly wild laughter as she twisted helplessly underneath me, unable to escape my nimble fingers feverishly probing her soft anatomy. "Michael no! Stop! STOP IT! PLEA-HEE-HEASE!! STOP TICKLING MEEEEEEE!!!" Fast succumbing to fits of uncontrollable laughter, Laurie instinctively rolled onto her back, furiously kicking out with her long legs and trying desperately to lever me off. But every time she tried to get up, I had only to goose her in the ribs and she would quickly collapse back to the floor with a scream of girlish laughter.
By now Laurie was becoming pretty frantic so I stopped for a minute to let her recover, patiently waiting as her near-hysterical laughter gradually subsided. She lay there smiling up at me, panting, her face flush, her eyes bright and excited. "Michael....Michael, let me up," she said breathlessly. "Let me up or I'll scream." What good that would do in an empty building I couldn't fathom. I tried to be patient. "Laurie, we're the only one's here this late." I was leaning directly over her, straddling her waist, my hands pinning her wrists to the floor behind her head. I grinned down at her. "That means no one to rescue you from my evil clutches."
She struggled again briefly to throw me off but I kept her firmly pinned. Laurie stopped and rested her head back on the carpeting, breathing hard from her exertions. "Michael....Michael let me go. This isn't fair you know." "What isn't, that I've discovered your little weakness?" "Meaning?" "Meaning I like hearing you laugh. And if you're even half as ticklish as you seem to be you're going to be doing a lot more of it." Laurie's eyes widened and she let out a high-pitched whimper. "Oh no, Michael please. You...oh you wouldn't! Michael get off of me. You're taking advantage!"
Normally impeccably groomed, Laurie now looked pleasingly rumpled and disheveled. Her hair was mussed, she was sweaty and her blouse was pulling out of her skirt, revealing a narrow band of delectably bare midriff. This last made for an irresistible target. Holding her arms down with one hand, I ran my other hand like a small white mouse up under her blouse, lightly fingering her ribcage and playfully poking her in the tummy. Almost immediately she again started twisting and squirming. "N-no!! Ahh! D-don't!" she gasped, smiling in spite of herself and trying unsuccessfully to contain her laughter.
Excited by Laurie's struggles and her obvious vulnerability, I began to tickle her faster, running my fingers spider-like up and down her sides, under her arms and all over her naked tummy. Within moments I had her laughing and screaming uncontrollably and begging me to stop. But I continued ruthlessly tickling her, letting up only occasionally so she could catch her breath, then starting in on her again, until I had tickled her into a state of near-hysteria. After a few more minutes I finally stopped, much to her relief. She lay there gasping for air, still laughing weakly.
Meantime another idea suggested itself. Undoing my tie, I looped it around her wrists, knotted them together and tied her to one of the legs of the director's desk. She moaned in protest but was still too weak with laughter to offer much resistance. In a moment, she was nicely stretched out before me with her arms above her head, a helpless captive totally at my mercy. It was an exhilarating sight.
"Michael, PLEASE let me go!" she said, starting to sound desperate, for she well knew what was in store for her now. "I promise I won't tell anyone you did this." Laurie had on a pair of shiny black high heel pumps and I began removing them from her feet with exaggerated slowness. "Michael, please, please don't tickle me anymore! I can't stand it. I really can't. I'll do anything for you if you just let me go." I smiled. That offer raised a lot of interesting possibilities but I was already having too much fun to stop now. I tossed her shoes aside and unzipped her skirt, pulling it off over her squirming hips. Then I unbuttoned her blouse and draped it open, leaving her ticklish midsection completely bare and deliciously vulnerable. Her only claims to modesty now were the black lace bikini panties and push-up bra she had on underneath.
I sat back down on the floor and rested her stockinged feet in my lap, using the crook of my left arm to hold her ankles firmly together. Having her feet this close within reach was a fantasy come true: from her slim ankles to her delicate high arches and softly rounded heels. I savored that sight for a moment, then turned to Laurie and said: "Mmmm, these two little feet are so sexy." I brought my right hand up and lightly traced a forefinger across the tops of her stockinged toes. She shivered slightly, staring at my finger as if mesmerized by it. "Tell me, are they ticklish too?" I teasingly asked. Her eyes darted toward mine and the panicked look she gave me clearly betrayed the answer. "Michael you wouldn't! Oh please, not that! No!" I crooked my right index finger and started bringing it slowly towards the bottoms of her feet. Her face broke into a contorted smile, filled with a mixture of fear and apprehension.
"Michael, please! I'm begging you. Don't tickle me there!" She was twisting her pretty legs in a futile effort to avoid the inevitable and I was pleased to see her becoming increasingly agitated at the thought of what was coming next. I wiggled my fingers threateningly towards the soles of her feet and said, "Here they come Laurie, kitchie-kitchie-coo-hoo, I'm gonna tickle yooou..." Resigned to her fate, Laurie dropped her head back and began laughing. "No-no-no!! Michael, let go of me, let go!!" I finally made contact, dragging the tip of my right forefinger against the arch of her foot. Her leg reflexively jerked in response but I was keeping a tight grip on her ankles. "Stop it! No-ho-ho!! Not my feet, Michael, please!" She was grinning at me like mad, her teeth clenched to keep from laughing. To laugh out loud was to give in and she wasn't about to do that again if she could help it.
I ran my fingertips up and down the length of her soft tender soles, tracing lazy circles against her heels and lightly grazing the pads of her toes too. I worked them over very slowly and deliberately, letting the tension build and reveling in the slick texture of her nylons under my fingers. I wanted to savor the feel of tormenting her feet and the delightful reactions it provoked from her. With each stroke across her soles, Laurie would take a sudden sharp breath, jerk her leg back and smile involuntarily. Her initial look of bewildered astonishment had given way to one of giddy anticipation each time I brought my fingers up towards her feet.
She was still resisting heroically so I started tickling her a little faster, jumping from the left to the right foot and back again. Her legs jerked spasmodically every time I brushed the bottoms of her feet and she twisted her lithe body from side to side in reaction to the unbearably ticklish sensations racing up her stockinged legs, whimpering plaintively and pulling hard on her wrist restraint; but there was no escape.
I grinned down at her. "Come on, Laurie, give in. You know how ticklish you are. You're just too stubborn to admit it. All you have to do is be a good girl and tell me you're ticklish." She shook her head defiantly, grinning and biting her lower lip to keep from laughing as my fingers danced lightly across her insteps. Leaning even closer and looking her straight in the eyes I said, "Tell me or I won't stop..." At this she began struggling even harder, blinking back tears. Sensing victory, I decided to give her a push over the edge. I gave the sole of her foot one last scratch, threw her feet aside and suddenly goosed her hard in the ribs.
The effect was electrifying. Taken by surprise, she let out an ear-piercing scream and burst out laughing. Then I dove for her underarms, relentlessly tickling her up and down her unprotected sides, across her taut ribs and all over her bare tummy until I had her convulsed with laughter and screaming hysterically. "NO-HO-HO-HOOOO!! STOP IT, PLEASE! MICHAEL! AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAHHHHHHHH!!!" Goosing her repeatedly in the ribs, I asked her again: "Are you or aren't you ticklish?" "NO! I'M NOT! I'M NOT!!" she gasped, still playing the stubborn young schoolgirl in spite of her increasing distress.
I let up on her midsection and went back to running my fingers up and down the soles of her stockinged feet. This sent Laurie absolutely ballistic: she bucked and wriggled like a worm on a hook, alternately laughing and screaming and breathlessly pleading for mercy; but the sounds of her increasingly hysterical laughter, the sight of her helplessly writhing form and her delectably heightened ticklishness only served to increase my own excitement and fueled a perverse desire to torment her all the more.
I continued tickling her ribs and tummy, the backs of her thighs and under her arms until her screams of laughter turned to long tearful sobs. Nearly out of her mind with pleasure and unable to endure another moment of being tickled, she finally cried out: "YEH-HEH-HEH-HEHSSS! I'M TICKLISH, I'M TICKLISH!! OH-HO-HO-HO-HAH-HAHHHHH! STOP! STOP IT, PLEA-HEE- HEE-HEASE! OH GOD! I CA-....I CAN'T TAKE THIS!!"
Satisfied at having tickled her into complete submission, I at last let up. Laurie was out of breath, hopelessly giddy and utterly limp from her ticklish ordeal. She lay there a moment, staring up at the ceiling, a vacant smile across her face, her stomach still visibly rising and falling with every deep breath she took. "Oh...oh god," she panted, "I thought.......I thought you'd never stop...." Looking down at her, I felt strangely moved to pity and quickly moved to untie her from the desk.
"Thank you," she said softly, slowly sitting up and rubbing her wrists. There was a long awkward silence as she worked to restore full circulation again in her hands. "Laurie," I said, feeling suddenly guilty, "I'm....I'm really sorry about what just happened. I, um, I just don't know what came over me." The implications of what I had just done to her were only now dawning on me and I clumsily groped for an explanation. "It's just that...when I found you sitting there in your office I...well, I had this crazy desire to try tickling you and...I, um, guess I got a little carried away." It sounded incredibly lame even as I said it.
She looked at me in obvious disbelief. "A little carried away???" I winced at the tone of her words. My impetuous actions had left me twisting in the wind and she well knew it. "You know by rights I ought to pick up a phone, call the police and have you charged with assault." She fixed me with a determined gaze, the kind stern schoolteachers reserve for misbehaving schoolboys. "W-well of course you'd be within your rights," I stammered, realizing she was now the one wielding the stick. "And I deserve w-whatever consequences may re-..." "But I won't," she said, a smile spreading slowly over her face. "Y-you what???" My relief at hearing these words must have looked quite comical for she suddenly laughed aloud. "I said I won't. Under one condition..."
I swallowed hard. Having dug myself into a deep and dangerous hole, she was now offering me a chance for redemption and I realized I had to agree to it, whatever that might mean. I waited expectantly as she slowly buttoned up her blouse. "You know," she said, smiling absentmindedly to herself, "I don't think I've been tickled like that since I was a kid. I thought I would absolutely die laughing." She got to her feet, stepped into her skirt and zipped it back up, smoothing it out and then looking around for her shoes.
"There was this one time, a summer afternoon...I was maybe fifteen or sixteen. I was pestering my three older brothers, being bratty the way sisters sometimes are, and suddenly they turned and started chasing me through the house. I ran up to my bedroom but they followed after and wrestled me onto my bed. They said to me, "We're going to tie you up so you can't bother us anymore." And they did. They grabbed some of my stockings out of my dresser drawer and tied me down spread-eagle to the bed. I don't know what gave them the next idea, maybe because I had a halter-top on and my tummy was showing, but as they were standing there looking over their handiwork a light bulb must have gone on and one of them said, "Let's tickle her!"
"They pulled my shoes off and started in on my feet. Boy did I scream! I've always been extremely ticklish and as soon as they touched my feet I started laughing hysterically. I begged them to stop but our parents were away and my brothers were free to take their time; they tickled me everywhere....well, almost everywhere." Laurie gave me a quick knowing grin. She knelt down and pulled one of her high heels from under the director's desk. "Of course all the while they were tickling me it was absolute agony. I pleaded with them to let me go but later on I realized I had actually enjoyed it. I know that sounds crazy..." She slipped her other pump onto her foot.
"I remember feeling this absolutely delicious sense of helplessness when they were holding me down and tying my wrists and ankles up. I knew what they might do too. I mean when you've got someone tied down and they're laying there all stretched out and helpless with their belly showing, what's the first thought that pops into your head? Would they think of doing that? I didn't know and that's what made it so unbearable, waiting to see if they would.
She glanced down at her stockings and sighed. "Nuts, I have a run." I looked too, just to be polite. She looked back up at me, arched her brow and said, "I wonder how that happened." I tried to look suitably abashed as she continued. "Anyway, it seemed like they spent hours tormenting me. It was probably closer to 45 minutes but you know how skewed your perception gets when you're on the receiving end. By the time they finished with me I was so exhausted I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I found they had untied me. We never said a word to each other about it and I certainly never mentioned it to our parents.
"What's really weird is that, as much as I protested and swore at them while they were tickling me, afterwards I secretly hoped they would do it to me again. It was such a rush to be so completely helpless and physically vulnerable. I'd never felt that before. Sometimes I'd lay in bed at night and re-run the whole thing over and over in my mind, remembering every detail of how they tied me down and seeing my oldest brother slowly bringing his hands towards my outstretched ribs and threatening to tickle me. It had driven me wild, absolutely wild, but I loved that. They wouldn't even be touching me yet and I'd be laughing like an idiot, already imagining how it would feel when he finally pressed his fingers against my bare ribs and started tickling me for real.
"They never tied me up again but I could still get them to tickle me once in a while, especially if I was barefoot or wore something skimpy, like a bikini during the summer. But after I went off to college, I missed the intensity of that one experience. The few boys I dated were unfailingly polite and well-mannered. I never really knew how to tell them what I wanted anyway. What would they have thought if I had said, "Let's play some bondage games!" Maybe I should have tried at least, but now...." Her voice trailed off and I couldn't resist blurting out: "You mentioned a condition?"
The faraway look in her eyes faded and her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Yes, the condition." She looked directly at me and said: "The condition is that I want to know what it feels like to be on the other end. I want to pay you back for tonight by putting you through the same torment you inflicted on me. Then we'll be even up."
I gulped. I suppose I should have expected this, but the prospect of Laurie turning the tables on me and giving me a taste of my own medicine I found both terrifying and arousing. Terrifying because I would be willingly at her mercy (rather an uncertain quality at this point, given her desire to avenge my surprise attack) and unsure of just how far she might go. Arousing because the thought of a woman tying me up and tickling me insensible was a long-held secret fantasy that I had dared not share with any previous woman I'd known intimately. Now that opportunity was dropping in my lap!
I reluctantly agreed to her proposal, or at least tried to look reluctant in order not to undermine her obvious satisfaction with the deal. "My place," she said. "Next Tuesday night, 7:30pm sharp. I have a four-poster. And, uh, make sure you bring several of your nicer-looking silk ties." I nodded obediently. "And what will you be wearing to this event?" I asked. It sounded impertinent but I had to know. She paused before answering, wetting her lips and leveling her brown eyes straight at mine. "Ohhh…sheer black stockings, 5-inch heels and a black lace bustier. Will that do?" she asked, smiling and arching her left eyebrow. "Yes, it will do," I said, already imagining how she would look and smell and feel. "Very nicely, I think," and suddenly laughed. Fantasy? Reality? Which was which? And was she in mine or was I in hers?
- END -