“Educating Ashley”

by Strelnikov
Copyright 2004 by the author



For a wonder, there was an open parking space in front of the apartment building as Ashley Haviland drove up. The building, like its neighbors, was a tall old Queen Anne that had been built as a private home in the 1880’s. All had long since been roughly chopped up into apartments, and had provided temporary homes for generations of Commonwealth University students. Parking was always at a premium in a college town, but this neighborhood long predated the automobile, and did not accommodate it gracefully.

Ashley parked the car – a generic minivan, plain and practical. She heard female laughter as soon as she turned off the engine, and frowned – from the sound of it, someone was being tickled silly.

Her sisters Stacy and Michelle – Shelly to friends and family – gathered up the grocery bags. “Sounds like they’re at it again,” Stacy said, with an amused smile.

“Wanna join ‘em?” Shelly asked, grinning. “We have plenty of time before we need to start cooking.”

“NO!” Ashley said crossly. “Come on, let’s get the groceries inside.”

The three sisters were from a little town in Northeast Maine, hard up against the border with Canada’s Québéc Province. They shared a strong family resemblance. All three were the same physical type – small and trim like their québécois forbears, with fit and shapely bodies. The New England winter had finally given way to a glorious spring – all three were dressed in t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops.

Ashley was the oldest at 23, a first-year Grad student and teaching assistant in the Math department at the University. She had short dark blonde hair and cool gray eyes. She was sober and capable, a first-born overachiever, always very much in control of herself.

Stacy, the easy-going middle sister, was a 21-year-old Junior majoring in Hospitality Management. She had curly shoulder-length brown hair and soft brown eyes. She worked part-time at the local Persian restaurant, waiting tables and learning the business.

Shelly was the youngest, a 19-year-old Freshman. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and hazel eyes. A former high school cheerleader, her personality could best be described as “effervescent”. For now, she was a resident of Kipling Hall, a Freshman women’s dorm. Her sisters shared Apartment 2A, and Shelly had come to visit. She expected to move in with them next year.

The ticklish laughter was coming from the open window of Apartment 1B, to the right of the front door. Two of Shelly’s friends, former residents of her dorm, lived there – had moved in just before spring break.

Two townie girls had lived there last fall. The townies were tickle maniacs both. Ashley and Stacy had each fallen victim to them – the neighbors had ambushed them and tickled their feet until they were raving. But they had tickled Nicole Wade, the upstairs neighbor in Apartment 3B, regularly and mercilessly.

Nicole had gotten reinforcements from home right after Thanksgiving, and all of them had taken their revenge, in the form of several hours of serious tickle torture. The townies had decamped the same night and hadn’t been seen since.

Good riddance, Ashley had thought – we’re through with tickling now, for all time.

But unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out that way.

***

Shelly had spent the fall semester getting accustomed to college life, and hadn’t spent much time with her older sisters. Thanksgiving break, as always, was hectic – drive in on Wednesday, the big dinner with the whole extended family on Thursday, shop till you drop Friday and Saturday, and back to school on Sunday. Ashley didn’t really notice the change in her little sister until semester break at Christmas.

Shelly had always been a morning person. She banged on Ashley’s bedroom door just before 8 AM the morning after they got home.

“Come on, Ashley! We’re burning daylight!”

“I’m awake,” Ashley called back. Why had she agreed to go cross country skiing with her sisters today? It would be so much more sensible to sit in front of the fireplace with a good book.

“Stacy! Get up, get up!” Ashley heard Shelly call out as she rolled out of bed.

“Come on, sleepyhead!” Shelly said through the closed door of Stacy’s room as Ashley shuffled past on her way to the bathroom. The response was a wordless sound of protest, and a thump as a thrown shoe hit the inside of the door.

Ashley was brushing her teeth when it started.

“Oh NOOO! Sta-haha-ap! Shel-lee-hehe! Don’t! HAHAHAHA-HAHAHA-HAHAHA!”

Stacy laughed like mad, and kept on laughing. Ashley rinsed her mouth and went to Stacy’s room, knowing what she would find.

Stacy was on her tummy on her bed, laughing her head off. Shelly had thrown off the covers, sat on Stacy facing aft, and trapped her sister’s legs in the figure-four leg lock. She was was tickling both of Stacy’s upturned feet, two-handed, with great enthusiasm.

Shelly tickled the bare soles, watching the toes twitch and curl, while streams of laughter poured from her sister. She flicked and scratched her way down the arches to the heels, lingered to draw figure-eight’s and other tickling shapes, then spider-walked her nails back up to the soles again. Stacy howled with forced mirth as Shelly spread her toes and tickled between each pair, then held them back and tickled the sensitive skin underneath.

“Are you awake yet, sis?” Shelly asked, still tickling. But Stacy was laughing too hard to answer, or even to form a coherent thought.

Shelly tickled down onto the stretched out soles and tickled side to side. Stacy bucked and squirmed, laughing helplessly, trying desperately to escape the tickling. Shelly concentrated on the right sole, tickling the exact center, along the crease where it really, really tickled. Then across the balls of both feet to the center of the left sole – Stacy laughed at the top of her lungs. And the finishing touch – Shelly made a Peace sign and scratched the middle of both soles at the same time. Stacy lost it and laughed herself breathless.

Shelly dismounted, leaving Stacy gasping on her bed. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes,” she said on her way out the door.

Stacy rolled onto her back and shuffled her feet on the bed to get the tickle off. “Wooo! That really tickled!” she said. “Like when we were kids.”

Ashley scowled. As the oldest of three girls, she had discovered long ago that tickling was the ideal chastisement for pesky little sisters. It left no marks, and no one took it serious. Unfortunately, that also made it an ideal way for the little sisters to aggravate the bossy older sister. Ashley hated to be tickled – she detested the sensation and the loss of control. When her sibs had proposed a truce, the year she turned 18, she had accepted with alacrity.

But it looked like the truce was broken – at least between Shelly and Stacy.

“Are you gonna let her get away with that?” Ashley asked.

Stacy stood up and slipped into her robe. “Hey, it’s only tickling,” she said. She was easygoing to the point of imperturbability. “No big deal.”

One such incident might have been a fluke. But Ashley had a close call three days later. The sisters came in from outdoors – Ashley had stepped through the ice on a deep puddle. She peeled off her wet shoes and socks, and was warming her feet at the fireplace, when she saw Shelly getting ready to make a move.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ashley said, and drew her legs up.

A week later, when Stacy was sitting in the recliner, Shelly snatched up her ankles in an arm lock, flipped off her slippers and tickled her feet again. But Stacy didn’t get mad – that wasn’t her style. She just got even. Her chance came on the morning of New Years Day.

The sisters were still in pajamas and robes, watching one of the parades on TV. Ashley was sitting in the recliner, her sisters were on the couch. The room was a little chilly – the fire had died down – so Shelly got up to throw another stick on the fire.

Stacy stood, reached around Shelly from behind and grabbed her robe above her breasts. She yanked it outward, backward and down. The material bunched up around Shelly’s elbows, pinning her arms to her sides. Still holding on, Stacy hooked Shelly’s feet out from under her, plopped her face down on the floor and sat on her.

Stacy snatched the throw off the couch and shook it open on the floor next to Shelly. She got off the struggling girl, rolled her onto the throw, then rolled her up like a burrito. Shelly struggled to get loose, but the throw was rolled too tight – she was had.

“Gotcha!” Stacy gloated, rolled Shelly face down and and pulled off her slippers.

“I don’t suppose we could talk this over?” Shelly asked.

“Not hardly,” her sister replied, and trapped her ankles in a leg lock. Stacy had come prepared – from the pockets of her robe came a piece of twine, a small hair brush with plastic knobs on the ends of the bristles, an old fashioned shaving brush that had belonged to their grandfather.

Ashley shuddered. Getting tickled was bad enough, and Stacy was about to give Shelly a real workout. But the Blanket Roll was horrible. Being trapped, unable to fight back, with no chance to escape, made the tickling much worse. Still, it was none of her business – this was between her sisters, and they were welcome to it.

Shelly didn’t beg – she knew it wouldn’t do her any good. “OK, you got me,” she said. “Get it over with.”

Stacy started off slow, teasing with a single fingernail and producing a stream of little giggles. She circled the nail in Shelly’s right arch, another on her left heel, and the giggles were continuous. And then she dug in, flicking and scratching with both hands, Shelly arched her back and laughed her head off.

Stacy tickled Shelly’s heels, up her arches and onto her soles, watching the toes twitch and curl. She threaded the twine between two toes and pulled it back and forth, tickling like crazy. Shelly laughed and laughed as Stacy repeated it between the other toes. The shaving brush was next, dusting from toes to heels and back while Shelly laughed like mad. Then holding the toes back, scrubbing the stretched out soles with the hair brush, and Shelly laughed at the top of her lungs.

A short break, just enough for Shelly to catch her breath, and then Stacy tickled with her fingernails. She held Shelly’s toes back and tickled the stretched out soles, then side to side on the ticklish skin underneath the toes. Stacy tickled the balls of her sister’s feet, down the left arch to the heel, onto the right heel and back up the arch to the sensitive soles again. Shelly’s laughter went off the scale as Stacy tickled onto the exact center of the right sole, along the crease, fingernails flying.

Another break, and Stacy started back on Shelly’s soles with the shaving brush. The tickling bristles flicked, side to side and up and down, covering every square inch of ticklish flesh. It was more than Shelly could bear – it reduced her to gasping, red-faced silent laughter.

Stacy unrolled Shelly, then grabbed a foot and gave it another minute of tickle torture. Shelly laughed helplessly, all resistance tickled out of her.

“Don’t you think she’s had enough?” Ashley asked, a little alarmed.

“Maybe,” Stacy answered. “Hey Shelly, are you gonna try to tickle me again?”

“Not… right… this instant.” Shelly gasped out. She was sweaty, breathless, heart racing, hair messed up.

“An honest answer, anyway,” Stacy said. “OK, fair enough. We’re even.”

But that had just opened the flood gates of weird. Stacy and Shelly continued their tickling games back at school. Now, when Shelly came to the apartment to visit, the younger girls invariably got into a tickle fight. The one who gained the upper hand would tickle the other silly. When Ashley tried to reason with them, they just moved their tickle sessions into Stacy’s room and closed the door.

***

“Tabarnak!” said Ashley – the québécois curse better expressed her mood than anything she could have said in English. There’s no way I can concentrate with that going on, she thought. She laid aside the homework papers she had been grading. Shelly was visiting again, and was playing with Stacy – Stacy’s ticklish laughter had been coming from her room for nearly twenty minutes.

The laughter stopped. But just as Ashley was about to start on the papers again, there was a knock at the door. I give up, she thought as she went to the door.

The visitor was Ashley’s neighbor, Nicole Wade. She lived upstairs in Apartment 3B, a tiny attic efficiency that had been a maid’s room when the building was a private home. Nicole was a Sophomore Pre-Med major, a little beauty with crystal blue eyes, bright blonde hair and a very trim and shapely body. Her personality was much like Ashley’s – very serious, a first-born overachiever.

“Oh, hi, Nicole,” Ashley said. “What can I do for you?”

“Could you lend me a couple of eggs? I’m out.”

“Sure, come on in.”

“Where’s Stacy?” Nicole asked.

“She’s in her room with Shelly. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“Why, what are they…?”

The laughter started again. Ashley flinched – Stacy was laughing like mad.

“Sounds like Stacy,” Nicole said. “I thought she hated tickling – what’s the deal?”

“Stacy and Shelly started this during Christmas break, and they’ve been at it ever since,” Ashley replied. “I don’t understand it – I thought we all outgrew tickle fights.”

Stacy’s laughter went up a notch. Nicole grinned. “It sounds like fun,” she said. “Let’s join ‘em.”

Ashley scowled. “What’s got into you, Nicole? Not you too – I thought you had sense.”

“It’s just tickling, Ashley. Something fun to do.”

“Fun? I thought you hated it as much as I do. It sure seemed that way when Clarice and Dominique were giving you the treatment last fall.”

“It depends on the circumstances,” Nicole replied. “I learned that from my little sister, and my best friend back home. You ought to try it.”

“Not a chance.”

Stacy’s laughter turned into little giggles, heard faintly through the closed door of her room. But Shelly was just giving her a break. The laughter picked up again – Stacy laughed at the top of her lungs.

“We’re a lot alike, Ashley,” Nicole said. “Sobersides older sisters, always under control. But it’s OK to give up that control, to just let go with sensation. I’ve just learned that, but my sister has known it all her life.”

Nicole paused, then went on. “I tickled Candice for years – she loves to be tickled, always has. But I never understood why until my friend Melissa… Well, it wasn’t planned that way, but she tickled me silly. It surprised me – it was playful, liberating, nothing like what Dominique and Clarice did to us.”

Stacy’s laughter went off the chart, then stopped abruptly. Shelly had tickled her breathless.

“Sounds like your sisters feel the same as I do,” Nicole said. “Come on, give it a try.”

Stacy’s door opened. “Hi, Nicole,” Shelly said as she came into the kitchen. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear what you were doing to Stacy,” Nicole replied. “Ashley tells me that you two have turned into tickle maniacs.”

“Ayuh, that’s right,” Shelly said – her Down East accent was still fairly strong. “But Ashley’s a party pooper – she won’t play with us.”

Stacy joined them, still a little disheveled and short of breath. “Not that… we haven’t… tried,” she said.

“Yah, me too,” Nicole said. She looked at their bare feet. “I’ll play, if you’ll have me.”

Stacy and Shelly exchanged a startled look. “Ben, qu'est-ce que t'en penses, p'tite soeur?” Stacy asked. “Est-ce qu'on devrait?”

Shelly didn’t hesitate. “Sûr, pourquoi pas?” she replied. “OK, Nicole, you’re in.”

Nicole took off her shoes and socks. “Who’s gonna go first?” she asked.

“Tabarnak!” Ashley said, with feeling.

***

Nicole was a regular participant in the tickle play from then on. It drove Ashley crazy. Even worse, she felt excluded – the sisters had always been close, but this was something Ashley would not, could not do.

Shelly’s two friends moved into Apartment 1B the weekend before spring break – they had been evicted from their dorm room for some serious infraction. They had been lucky to find the place – in a college town, apartments typically change hands only at the end of the school year. But 1B had stood vacant since the two townie girls had moved out.

Danielle Deaver was a little shorter than medium height, with a Rubenesque figure, long dark brown hair, gray eyes, and the sort of skin that tans easily. Tara Lynch was tall and slender – she had a crooked grin and the map of Ireland on her face. Her hair was an unruly mop of black curls, over fair skin and startling blue eyes. They were small-town girls like the sisters, friends since childhood who had grown up on neighboring farms in the mountains of Northeast Tennessee.

Ashley had papers to grade, so she left her two sibs to help with the move-in and unpacking. She checked her watch when she finished – just past 4 PM, time for Stacy to get ready for work.

She was about to go downstairs when her sisters came in. Both were grinning and a little sweaty and rumpled. They were barefoot, carrying their shoes, with their jeans legs turned up.

“That was fun!” Stacy said. “I like your friends.” Pinned to her sweat shirt was a movie-promotion pin – T3, it said.

“They’re good for lots of laughs, for sure,” Shelly replied. “Our dorm RA thought so, anyway – that’s why they’re here. But she didn’t see much humor in it – kinda like Ashley.”

Ashley scowled at the dig. She wasn’t so humorless as that – was she?

“You told me about that – serves Shannon right,” Stacy said. “Wish I’d done her the same way when we were Freshmen.”

“Never resist temptation,” Shelly said. “It may not pass your way again.”

Stacy laughed. “Right. Well, me for a shower. I’ll drop you back at your dorm on my way to work.”

Ashley was restless after her sisters left. She didn’t feel like reading, and there was nothing on TV to hold her interest. She called Nicole – no answer. The Senior guys downstairs were away on job interviews, she knew, and she wasn’t in the mood for the two stoners across the hall. The new neighbors, then.

She met Danielle in the first-floor hallway – the younger girl had just carried a load of empty boxes out to the curb. Like Ashley, Danielle wore jeans and sweat shirt. But oddly enough – the New England spring day was chilly – she wore flip-flops.

Danielle was the dominant one of the two, more outgoing than her quiet friend. And she was much sharper than she chose to appear. Ashley got the impression that she often used that to her advantage. Aha! someone might think – this kid just fell off the hay truck. Too late, they would realize that they were had.

“Hi, Danielle. Want some company?”

“Sure. Nicole’s here, but the more the merrier. We’ve ordered a pizza – you’re welcome to share it with us. Come on in.”

A burst of ticklish female laughter came out the door as Danielle opened it. Ashley recoiled. Oh, no! Not them too!

“Oh, come on in,” Danielle said. “It’s just Tara and Nicole.”

Tara was on the couch, on her tummy, her hands bound behind her back. Nicole tickled her soles with great skill and enthusiasm, bringing forth wave after wave of ticklish laughter. She had Tara’s ankles trapped in a simple leg lock – ankles on right thigh, left thigh over the calves with the left foot tucked behind the right leg to lock it in place.

Nicole looked up at Ashley and grinned. She was barefoot too. “Hi, Ashley! Are you gonna join us?” She put on a burst of speed, tickling the sweet spots – the soles and balls of Tara’s feet. Tara arched her back and laughed at the top of her lungs.

“She’s really ticklish,” Danielle said. “Want to tickle her next?”

“NO!”

“Suit yourself,” Danielle said, kicking off her flip-flops. “But she doesen’t mind. We’ve been doing this to each other for years.”

Ashley watched, horrified – how could anyone subject herself to this? But… Nicole was grinning ear to ear, and Tara didn’t seem to be in any distress. Maybe…

NO!

Danielle noticed Ashley’s look of unease. “What’s the matter, Ashley?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever seen somebody getting tickled before?”

“My sisters and I used to tickle each other sometimes, when we were kids,” Ashley replied. “But we never tied each other up, and never took it this far.” She pronounced the words “nevah” and “fah” – the Down East was back in her voice, an artifact of her agitated mood.

“They do now,” Danielle said. “We do it this way because somebody – tickler or ticklee – would get hurt if we didn’t. We learned that the hard way.”

Nicole gave Tara a break – the laughter dropped back to girlish giggles that added spice to Tara’s begging.

“OH NO! Sta-haha-ap! Don’t! hehehe! No more-ehehe!” Tara giggled and begged as Nicole traced a fingernail in a circle in her arch.

“What?” Nicole said. “I can’t hear you. You want me to tickle?”

“NOOOOO! HAHAHAHA-hehe-HAHAHA-HAHAHA!” Tara laughed as Nicole dug in, scratching and scrabbling the soft soles.

“Danielle, don’t you think…” Ashley said, alarmed.

Tara laughed like a madwoman as Nicole’s fingernails roamed over her ticklish feet. “Begging is part of the game,” Danielle said. “This won’t hurt her. You can tickle her next.”

Nicole held Tara’s toes back, drew circles around the balls of her feet, then scratched and scrabbled the soles in the exact center, along the crease. Tara bucked and squirmed, laughing her head off.

“Or tickle me instead,” Danielle added. “We’ve got plenty of straps, or you can roll me up in a blanket.”

“You’re crazy, Danielle!” Ashley said angrily.

“Oh, come on!” Nicole said. “That’s the best offer you’ve had all day.” Her tickling fingers picked up speed. The bonds seemed superfluous at the moment, because Tara wasn’t resisting at all. Maybe she had all the fight tickled right out of her – she was certainly laughing hard enough.

Danielle watched avidly – she was looking to improve her own technique, she said, and there was always something new to learn. Ashley found a magazine and tried to ignore the tickle torture. But when she realized that she had read the same paragraph three times, and still didn’t have a clue what it said, she gave it up and watched too. She found that she couldn’t look away – it was fascinating in its own way, like watching a disaster taking place before her eyes.

Nicole had tickled her sister for years – she had become a fiendish and inventive tickler. Now Tara was the beneficiary. Nicole flicked her nails in Tara’s arches, producing streams of giggles. She drew circles, squares and other tickling shapes on both heels – Tara laughed harder, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. And then she tickled back up Tara’s arches to the soles, and Tara’s laughter went off the chart.

Tara was in the zone now, and Nicole kept her there, laughing wildly. Nicole tickled between each pair of toes, then held them back and tickled the soft skin underneath. Tara laughed her head off, red faced and sweaty, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks.

Nicole paused – Tara laid there gasping, trying to get her breathing and heart rate normal again. Danielle tossed a paint brush to Nicole, who hooked it out of the air and flicked it in the younger girl’s arches. Tara howled with forced mirth, helpless to resist the fiendish and well techniqued tickling.

Nicole flicked the bristles from toes to heels, covering both feet with unbearable tickling. She switched to brushing in a big circle. That was worse – once each circle, it got THE SPOT, where Tara’s feet were insanely ticklish – the soles and the balls of her feet. Tara laughed at the top of her lungs as Nicole concentrated on the sweet spots, the tickling bristles dusting and flicking.

A knock at the door - the pizza was here. Ashley opened the door as Nicole finished with fingernails in the sweet spots, two-handed, and reduced Tara to gasping, red-faced silent laughter.

The pizza guy grinned as he handed the pizza to Ashley. “Jeez Louise, she’s ticklish,” he said. “I heard her laughing from the front porch. D’you do this often?”

Ashley blushed. “No, I’m just…”

“Yep, all the time,” Danielle said cheerfully. “This is the East Tennessee Songbird Society, Commonwealth University Branch. We make each other sing pretty regular. Right, girlfriend?” She reached down and tickled Tara’s heel, bringing forth another peal of ticklish laughter.

Ashley handed him too much money, too embarassed to speak, and closed the door in his face.

Tara laid there, breathing hard, slowly returning from Tickle Hell. Nicole released her ankles, stood up and untied her hands. “How’s that?” she asked.

“Jesus… wept…” Tara gasped out.

Ashley saw that Nicole was wearing a T3 pin too. “What’s with the Terminator pin, Nicole?”

Nicole laughed. “T3 – Tennessee Toe Ticklers. Kinda like a club – something they started at their dorm. They initiated me and Stacy both, earlier this afternoon.”

“Are you OK?” Ashley asked Tara. “That was pretty intense.”

Tara rolled onto her back. “I’m fine,” she said. She sat up and winced – her ribs and abs were a little sore from laughing. “That was a real workout. I think I could eat that whole pizza by myself.”

The others renewed their offer to Ashley after supper – they really wanted her to join the fun. But she couldn’t – just couldn’t. She declined politely and left.

The sound of Nicole’s ticklish laughter followed Ashley up the stairs. “Shit! Calisse! They’re crazy!” she said.

***

Ashley and Shelly went home for spring break – with three girls in college, there was no money to spare for a week-long beach party. Stacy stayed because of her job, so Shelly lost her playmate. Ashley enjoyed a whole week free of tickling.

They drove back to school a day early – Ashley had to prepare for the class she taught. She dropped Shelly off at her dorm and headed for her apartment.

She heard ticklish laughter through the closed door. Enough! she thought, and stormed in, boiling mad.

Stacy was in the kitchen with Tara and Danielle. Danielle sat in one of the bent-cane kitchen chairs, hands bound behind her back, nylon web straps around her waist and shoulders binding her to the chair. Her bare feet were through the back of a facing chair, ankles bound together and to the top arch of the chair canes. Her big toes were tied together with string. She laughed her head off as Stacy’s tickling fingernails flew over her sensitive soles, her long dark pony tail whipping back and forth like a flag as she struggled against her bonds.

A tickle party – the other two girls were barefoot too. Stacy looked over at Ashley and grinned. “Hi, sis! Join the party!” She put on a burst of speed, tickling the sweet spots – in Danielle’s arches, just in front of the heels. Danielle threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs.

“Arrête tout d’suite!” Ashley shouted.

“Reviens-en – c’est juste des chatouilles,” Stacy said. She didn’t miss a stroke, and Danielle laughed like mad.

Stacy gave Danielle a break – the laughter dropped back to girlish giggles. But then she threaded a piece of twine between two toes and pulled it back and forth, and Danielle laughed her head off. Stacy tickled between each pair of toes, then held them back and tickled the soft skin underneath. She tickled the stretched-out soles, drawing circles and figure-eight’s as streams of laughter poured out of her victim.

“J’suis sérieuse, Stacy! J’vis ici aussi, pis je l’accepterai pas!” Ashley said furiously.

“Chill,” Stacy said with a touch of asperity. She released Danielle’s toes and tickled the soles with a paint brush, watching the toes twitch and curl. She brushed down Danielle’s arches, onto the heels, the tickling bristles flicking.

“Knock it off!” Ashley yelled.

“When I’m finished,” Stacy said sharply. Easygoing she might be, but she could be stubborn too if it suited her.

Danielle howled with forced mirth as Stacy switched to using her fingernails, two-handed, scratching and scrabbling. Then back to the sweet spots, fingernails flying, and Danielle’s laughter went off the scale.

“Give her some air,” Tara called out. “She’s turning red.”

“I have a better idea,” Stacy said, and picked up the pace. Danielle lost it and laughed herself breathless.

Stacy set to work untieing Danielle’s feet. “Ashley’s got her knickers in a twist,” she said. “Help me untie her, Tara. Let’s move the party downstairs.”

***

Stacy – and Shelly, when she came visiting – took to spending a lot of time with the new neighbors. Nicole too – she actually seemed to enjoy being tickled. Ashley was the odd girl out – she refused to play, despite repeated offers.

Like today – a Saturday afternoon, a few weeks after the end of spring break. Shelly showed up at the apartment just after 1 PM, kicked off her flip-flops, then headed downstairs with Stacy, both girls barefoot in shorts and t-shirts. Shelly’s redheaded roommate was already there, with two more of their friends from the dorm. The building was full of the sounds of ticklish female laughter.

A knock at the door – Nicole, in shorts and t-shirt, barefoot like the others, carrying a jug of mediocre wine.

“Hi, Ashley! Is Stacy here?”

“No, she’s downstairs,” Ashley said bitterly, and burst into tears.

“Hey, easy now,” Nicole said. She set the jug down and hugged her friend. “You know you’re welcome to join us.”

“I… can’t!” Ashley said in a small voice.

Nicole held her until the tears stopped. “Come on,” she said, drawing Ashley after her into the kitchen. She poured a tumbler full of wine and handed it over. “Sit. Drink this. It was gonna be wine punch, but you need it more.”

Ashley took a gulp and winced – the wine was pretty rough.

“You’re pulled two ways, aren’t you?” Nicole said. “You want to play with us, but you’re afraid of losing control. Am I right?”

Ashley nodded and wiped her eyes.

“I used to be like that,” Nicole said. “I know better now. It’s OK to let go.”

“But I hate to be tickled! I hate the way it feels!”

“Yah, it drives me crazy too, while it’s happening. But afterward… it’s exhilirating.”

Ashley looked mulish.

Nicole sighed. “You can’t let go with your sisters, can you? Too much baggage from when you were kids.”

Ashley thought about it. “Maybe so,” she said. “With us, tickling always had an aggravation factor.”

“Well, you don’t have any history with me,” Nicole said. She stood. “Come to my place with me. Tickle me silly. I won’t try to tickle you – this one’s free.”

“But I…”

“Come, or I will tickle you,” Nicole said sternly, “and I’ll get the others to help me.”

Nicole’s apartment was located off a landing at the top of the service stairs leading up from the former kitchen, now a common laundry room. It was tiny – a bathroom, a galley kitchen with two tall stools and a counter that did double duty as a table, and one other room that held everything else. There wasn’t much – a computer desk, milk crate bookshelves, an armchair, a table for the lamp, another that held the TV and stereo, a bed, a wardrobe.

Nicole dialed the phone. “Tara? Nicole.” A pause. “No, not today. Send Stacy up to her apartment for the wine, it’s on the kitchen table.” Another pause. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just not today. I’ll see you later.”

Nicole hung up, retrieved a canvas book tote from the wardrobe and dumped it onto the bed. It held an assortment of nylon web straps – a military style belt, two dog collars, and a narrow cargo strap, the sort used to tie gear to the outside of a backpack.

“This rig is my sister’s invention,” Nicole said. She put the belt around her waist and slipped the smaller of the dog collars under it at the small of her back. She sat on the bed and drew her legs up.

“Works better for feet than upper body,” Nicole continued, “but I guess that’s OK.” She bound her ankles together with the other collar, then stretched out and rolled onto her tummy.

“Nicole, are you sure…”

“Strap ‘em up,” Nicole interrupted, and crossed her wrists over the first collar. “Use the last strap to hogtie me.”

Ashley did as she was told. “How’s that feel, Nicole?”

Nicole strained against the bonds. “Not tight enough. You’ve got to immobilize me, or one of us is gonna get hurt. There, that’s better – just right. Now pretend that I’m Clarice. Do your worst!”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I’m tough – you’ll see.”

Ashley kicked off her flip-flops, kneeled on the bed at Nicole’s bound feet and place a knee on either side of Nicole’s to prevent a rollover. She traced a fingernail in a circle around the ball of Nicole’s left foot.

“Hehehe! Harder! You’re– hahahehe! supposed– hehe! to tic– hahaha! tickle me– hehehe! sillee– hehehaha!” Nicole said through the giggles.

“Your funeral,” Ashley said, and dug in. Nicole arched her back and laughed her head off. “Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

But Nicole wasn’t capable of speech – she was laughing too hard.

Ashley tickled between Nicole’s toes, held them back and tickled under them, circled a nail around the balls of both feet in a big figure-eight. Twice each circuit, she hit the sweet spot – the exact center of Nicole’s soles, along the creases, where it tickled unbearably – and Nicole’s laughter went off the chart.

Ashley tickled down Nicole’s arches, onto the heels, and back up to the soles, watching the toes twitch and curl as streams of laughter poured out of Nicole. Then holding Nicole’s toes back, tickling the sweet spot on one foot, across to the other, back onto the balls of the feet again. Nicole laughed and laughed as Ashley tickled from the left to the right and back again, over and over. Then onto the sweet spot again, fingernails flying – Nicole lost it and laughed herself breathless.

“How’s that?” Ashley asked. But Nicole was still too breathless to answer.

This really is fun, Ashley thought, a little surprised. Nicole has a beautiful soprano tickle laugh, not scratchy at all. It’s just a game, making her laugh this way. Kinda like playing a musical instrument.

“Take… your time… “ Nicole said. “I’m not… going anywhere.”

Time for some serious tickling. Ashley inspected the upturned feet. “You’ve been walking around barefoot,” she said. “I’m gonna tickle ‘em clean!”

“Use the electric tooth brush,” Nicole said. “Use the tip with the green stripe – that’s what it’s for.”

Ashley found the brush, then had a flash of inspiration. She put an inch of water in a saucepan and resumed her place at Nicole’s bound feet. The water would provide lubrication and made the brush tickle much worse.

“You’re really gonna get it!” Ashley taunted.

“Oh shit! HAHAHAHA-hehe-HAHAHA-HAHAHA!” Nicole laughed as Ashley went to work on her sensitive soles.

Nicole laughed helplessly as Ashley tickled the tip of each toe, then between them, taking care to keep the bristles wet. The brief interruptions gave Nicole time to catch her breath, and (even better!) kept her from zoning out.

Ashley tickled the heels next, side to side, carefully brushing away the dirt – there really wasn’t much, but what the hell. Nicole’s sweet laughter filled the room as Ashley worked up her right arch, across both soles and down the left arch to the ticklish heel. She held Nicole’s toes back, tickling the soft skin underneath. She brushed in circles on the ball of Nicole’s right foot, covering each square inch of ticklish flesh, and on the rest of the stretched out sole as Nicole laughed and laughed. Then repeat on the left foot, forcing more wild ticklish laughter.

Ashley saved the best for last. She ran the brush up and down along the crease in the exact middle of Nicole’s right sole. Nicole bucked violently, struggling desperately to escape the tickling as she howled with forced mirth. A pause to wet the bristles, and Ashley finished on the left sole. It was more than Nicole could bear – she laughed until she ran out of air.

And so it went, for the next two hours. Ashley used every tickling trick she knew – everything she had ever done to her sisters, and to the townies last fall, and everything they had done to her. She tickled Nicole silly, gave her short breaks, then tickled her again, over and over. She didn’t stop until Nicole was at the end of her endurance, and maybe a little beyond.

Nicole was too weak to sit up after Ashley released her. She was soaked in sweat, hair messed up, cheeks streaked with tears of laughter. But she was euphoric – all that laughing, she said, had released a flood of endorphins.

“You can tickle me some more after supper,” Nicole said. “I’ll call you.” She yawned mightily. “But right now, I need a nap.”

By the time Ashley got to the door, Nicole was fast asleep. Ashley closed the door quietly and headed downstairs in a thoughtful mood.

She came home to an empty apartment – Stacy had gone to work, and Shelly was still with her friends downstairs. The afternoon had been… interesting. And a lot more fun than she had expected. Maybe there’s something to this after all, she thought.

Nicole called at 7 PM. “Ready for another round?” she asked as she let Ashley into her apartment.

I’d better do it now, before I lose my nerve, Ashley thought. She picked up the belt and wrapped it around her waist. “My turn,” she said.

“No. You’re not ready, Ashley. Not yet. Put the belt down.”

“But…”

“Think about it over night,” Nicole said. “If you haven’t changed your mind by tomorrow morning, I’ll tickle you then, and do it right. But not now. Tonight, you’re gonna tickle me again – or not, your choice.”

They rented a video instead. Ashley picked the movie while Nicole went to the grocery store next door to the rental place for wine and cheese. They were just finishing both when Stacy came home from work. All three went to bed soon after, and slept the sleep of the just.

***

Ashley called Nicole right after lunch on Sunday. “I’m ready, Nicole,” she said. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine. Give me ten minutes to get ready.”

Nicole seated Ashley in a folding aluminum-frame lawn chair, the sort that has criss-cross nylon strips for seat and back. She bound Ashley to the chair with a strap around her waist and another around her chest and upper arms. She tied Ashley’s arms to the chair arms with old nylons, at the wrists and just below the elbows. Ashley put her feet through one of the tall kitchen stools, under the seat, and rested her ankles on the brace between the far-side legs. Nicole bound the ankles together and to the brace, then finished by tying Ashley’s big toes together with string.

“One more thing,” Nicole said. She took a rubber bathtub duck out of a kitchen drawer, then placed it in Ashley’s right hand. “I bought it at the grocery store last night. Squeeze it.”

Squeak!

“This is important, Ashley,” Nicole continued. “I’m gonna do my best to tickle you senseless, but you can quit any time. If you feel you can’t stand any more, squeeze the duck and I’ll stop right away.”

“Do I really need this thing?”

“You do. It puts you in control. I won’t do it any other way.”

“OK. Get going before I lose my nerve.”

Nicole kneeled at Ashley’s feet and sat back on her heels. “Ready?”

Ashley fought down a last-minute attack of jitters. “Go ahead,” she said.

Nicole flicked her nails in Ashley’s arches, two-handed. It tickled worse – much worse – than Ashley could have imagined. She squirmed, threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs. Her hand closed convulsively on the duck.

Squeak!

Nicole quit instantly.

“That… really tickles!” Ashley said.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Nicole asked.

“Shut up and tickle!” Ashley said with false bravado. She could stand it – couldn’t she?

Ashley howled with forced mirth as Nicole spider-walked her fingernails all over the bottoms of both feet, heels to toes and back again. Nicole tickled both heels, scratching in circles and figure-eight’s, until Ashley thought she would go crazy. She danced her nails lightly up the arches to the balls of the feet, not making much contact but tickling like crazy. She spread Ashley’s toes apart to tickle between them, held them back and scratched the tender skin underneath. Still holding the toes back, she flicked her fingernails up and down the wrinkle in the exact middle of the right sole, and Ashley’s laughter went off the chart.

Squeak!

“Everything OK?” Nicole asked.

Ashley nodded, a jerky movement, breathing hard. Oh ghod how it tickled!

“Want me to stop?”

Ashley shook her head and blinked away tears of laughter. “Keep… going…” she said.

Nicole had a surgeon’s dexterity, and years of practice on her little sister – now, she put both to good use. She held Ashley’s toes back again and tickled around and across the balls of both feet. She released the toes and tickled both soles, watching the toes twitch and curl as Ashley laughed and laughed. She tickled back down both arches, lingered on the heels, flicking and scratching, then back up the arches to the soles again. Ashley laughed wildly, face red, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks.

By then, Ashley was incapable of any resistance, lost in ticklish delirium. Nicole held her in the zone, laughing her head off. All she could do was laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more as time expanded and the tickling filled her consciousness. Then Nicole picked up the pace. Ashley laughed her head off, ran out of air and panicked.

Squeak!

Ashley giggled weakly as the tickling sensation faded. She was sweaty, thirsty, cheeks tear-streaked. Her ribs and abs hurt from laughing.

Nicole gently wiped Ashley’s face with a towel and held a glass of ice water to her lips. Ashley downed it in a few gulps. “That tickled… so much…” she said.

“OK, that’s it,” Nicole said, and started to undo the bonds on Ashley’s ankles. “You’ve had enough.”

Ashley surprised them both. “No I haven’t,” she said. She opened her hand and let the rubber duck fall to the floor. “We’re just getting started. Come on, tickle me!”

“You’re sure about this?” Nicole asked, the concern evident in her voice.

“I trust you,” Ashley replied simply.

Nicole started slowly, tracing a circle around the ball of Ashley’s right foot with a single fingernail and producing a stream of giggles. She held Ashley’s toes back and traced a figure-eight around the balls of both feet, and the giggles turned to laughter. The loops got smaller, faster, covering every square inch of ticklish flesh, and Ashley laughed like a madwoman. Then larger loops again, scratching with two fingernails. Twice in each circuit, her nails hit THE SPOT – in the exact center of each sole – and gave it a few extra nail flicks. Ashley laughed her head off.

Nicole tickled between Ashley’s toes, under them, down the soles and arches onto the ticklish heels. Ashley laughed helplessly while the tickling fingernails flicked and scratched her heels, her ticklish laughter echoing off the hard plaster walls. Up the arches, two-handed, while she howled with forced mirth. Then the soles again, in the exact middle, where it really, really tickled. Ashley threw her head back and laughed her head off at the top of her lungs.

Nicole tickled Ashley until she was red faced and sweaty. She held her victim on the edge, never letting her zone out, while she laughed and laughed. She kept it up for a long, long time. She finished on the soles of Ashley’s feet again, tickling as fast as she could. It was more than Ashley could bear – she laughed herself breathless.

Ashley sat limply, head down, eyes closed, trying to get her breathing and heart rate normal again. She was a mess – sweaty, hair tangled, face streaked with tears of laughter. Her lungs felt like she had run a distance race, her abs felt like they had been beaten with a board. Her feet still tingled from the tickling.

But she felt great. Nicole had been right about the endorphins – and about the joy of letting go. Odd that she had never seen that before.

Nicloe untied her, rested a hand on her shoulder when she tried to rise. “Rest a while,” Nicole said. “You’re pretty shaky. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“That was… amazing,” Ashley said. “A flood of sensation. Is it always like this?”

“It can be,” Nicole said, and handed Ashley a Coke. “Glad you came?”

“Yes – it was a real education. I’m sorry I held out as long as I did. You’re a good friend, Nicole.” Ashley finished her Coke. “Let’s play again. Roll me up in a blanket this time – I want to be completely helpless.”

“I have a better idea,” Nicole replied. “Let’s go visiting.”

“Hi, Ashley,” Danielle said, a few minutes later at the door of her apartment. “Hi, Nicole. Y’all come on in. What can we do for y’all?”

Ashley winked at Nicole, grinned and kicked off her flip-flops. “Do you have any more of those T3 pins?” she asked.


***THE END***


Afterword…

Those readers who have studied French as a foreign language will note that the sisters don’t speak quite the same language you learned. Their québécois French is to European French, as Australian English is to the BBC variety.

My schoolboy French is pretty rusty after 35 years, and totally inadequate to provide idiomatic québécois dialog for the sisters. Fortunately, I had help. Thanks to video producer Francois Arsenault ( www.thelastlaughinc.com ) for his kind assistance, and for a very interesting tutorial on how to curse and swear en québécois. Merci, mon ami!

The remaining errors are mine. Hope you liked the story. As always, feedback is encouraged and welcome.

Strelnikov

30 April 2005 - Feedback indeed! I just found out today that this story won the 2004 TMF Golden Feather for Best Fiction. To Milagros, who nominated it, and to everybody who voted for it - thanks for your support. It's fun writing these stories. It's even more fun when they're appreciated.

Strel​