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New Story: The Voyage Out: Prologue: The Physical (F/F)

munchausen

TMF Expert
Joined
Jul 5, 2001
Messages
453
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[This is the beginning of what I hope will be a new epic. It is all F/F, which seems to cater to popular tastes around here. It also only hints at the wild flights of imagination ahead (or something–I don't know, it's late.) There may be a little F/M in future installments, but the focus, like mine, will always be on /F tickling, and rarely if ever will f/m tickling go unavenged. There's no real sex in it, and no-one is sentenced to an eternity of fiendish torment. If that's your thing, sorry. Still, it probably rates a PG-13. I hope you enjoy it–please let me know on the board (I don't check this e-mail.)]

The Voyage Out
(With apologies to Virginia Woolf, whose work has little to do with anything that follows)
Prologue: The Physical

Leah lounged coolly in the waiting room chair and took in her surroundings with veiled interest. Her two fellow candidates had already disappeared, one by one, into the network of offices behind the immaculate white door next to the stone-faced receptionist's window for their "qualifying examinations." The first of them, a slightly portly, mustached businessman, had emerged after about half an hour with a look of disgruntled puzzlement on his face; nevertheless, he held the ticket and itinerary that indicated qualification. The other candidate, a pretty young high school senior with a blonde ponytail and flip-flops, had gone in about 20 minutes ago, and had yet to come out.
The offices beyond were utterly soundproof; the only sounds Leah could hear were the rush of a white noise machine and the occasional rustle of the pages of the magazine she wasn't really reading. She would have settled for some warmed-over Herb Alpert. Her excitement and nervousness threatened to penetrate her uncommonly cool exterior–this was a big assignment for her. Leah was a reporter for a very popular, high-profile travel magazine, and had only recently been given her own monthly feature. Today, she would attempt to go undercover on a brand new, incredibly exclusive cruise ship. This would be the Catalan's maiden voyage, and, the discreet advertisements aimed at the absurdly wealthy promised, would feature untold luxury and even adventure. Six applicants would be chosen from an ever-growing pool; the choice would depend in part, oddly, on the results of a physical examination to be administered at their secret offices. Leah, with the help of a doctored financial statement backed by the considerable resources of her magazine, had passed the first round of screening, making it into an exclusive elite who were given the address of the offices and scheduled for a physical.
The pony-tailed blonde emerged, pink-faced and slightly disheveled, but smiling and clutching a ticket and itinerary. She passed straight through the outer office without a word, and was gone, the slap of her flip-flops cut abruptly short as the door hissed shut behind her.
"Brigitte Laphroig?" The speaker called her improbable, fabricated name, and Leah walked through the white door into the labyrinth of offices beyond.
She was greeted by a statuesque black woman with delicately exotic features, dressed in a white lab coat. "Welcome, Ms. Laphroig," she said, with a genteel smile. "I am Dr. Mesani, and I will be conducting your examination today. We are somewhat non-traditional in our examination techniques, as we eschew invasiveness in favor of a more holistic approach, based largely on neurological responses and reflexology. There may be occasional, mild discomfort, but the entire examination should be virtually pain-free. If you please, step into this room and put on the gown you find there, then join me in the examination room at the end of the hall."
Leah agreed, smiling, and stepped into the small dressing room. Like the rest of the office, it was all white, except for a mirror on the back of the door, and lit by flourescents. A white cotton garment, rather like a one-piece sleeveless toga, hung on one wall. With a small sigh of determination, Leah removed her skirt, blouse, shoes, and underthings. She paused for a self-indulgent moment to consider herself in the mirror. Even in the harsh white light, she was stunning–several men in her life, perhaps betraying a certain adolescent tendency, but not without objective merit, had claimed that she bore an uncanny resemblance to Ursula Andress in Dr. No. She had to admit, she had come to cultivate that look, consciously or not, with long, straight honey-brown hair, a golden (all-over) tan, and make-up that emphasized her high cheekbones and almond eyes. Her impressive height of 5'10" and toned, lithe, amply-endowed body added to the comparison. She knew that her model-like good looks were in large part responsible for her receiving her own feature, which was typically adorned with a variety of innocently revealing shots of her receiving various spa treatments and lounging bikini-clad on various beaches. She didn't resent it, but she did want to establish genuine credibility as an investigative reporter (if only for a travel magazine) with this piece.
She donned the curious garment, which fit admirably but left little to the imagination. The contrast between the white gown and her golden skin was stark. She looked around briefly for slippers or shower shoes, and found none. The floors were immaculate, but freezing; she made a quick, tiptoed barefoot walk to the examination room.
The room was surprisingly sumptuous and warm. Her bare feet sank into a thick, lush carpet, and the clinical cold of the rest of the office was replaced by a gentle warmth. The room had great floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, affording a placid view of the harbor far below. Dr. Mesani stood next to a leather-covered massage table; at Leah's entrance, she looked up from her clipboard and smiled. "Ah! Excellent! Please have a seat on the table, to begin with, and try to get comfortable. We have a very few questions to start out with."
Leah did as she asked, sitting on the table with a little hop and swinging her golden legs slightly.
"Now then. Name?"
It took half a second for Leah to remember her ruse. "Brigitte Laphroig."
"Age?"
"Twenty-seven" it was really thirty, but why not enjoy the subterfuge?
"Height and weight?"
"5'10", 127 pounds."
"Shoe size?"
"Why?"
"Nothing medical, exactly. We like to furnish slippers and robes for our guests."
"Oh. Around a 10, usually."
"Any conditions or allergies that do not appear on the medical records you sent us?"
"No. It should all be there."
"Excellent. Now, if you're comfortable, we'll go ahead with the brief physical exam."
She smiled; somewhat more weakly, Leah smiled back. At Dr. Mesani's request, she lay on her stomach and closed her eyes, relaxing. The exam began as more a massage than anything else; the doctor's probing touch on the muscles of her shoulders and back was soothing and therapeutic. Occasionally, Dr. Mesani would pause to scribble something illegible on her tablet. As the doctor went on about chakras and energy, Leah found herself lulled almost to sleep.
Her eyes jerked open and she let out a small squeal as the doctor's skilled fingers brushed her smooth-shaven armpits. Dr. Mesani, her face unseen by the prone Leah, chuckled. "Are you all right?"
"Just ticklish," Leah said, a little embarrassed.
"Excellent!" Dr. Mesani said, to her surprise. "It's a sign that your body is alive, open to sensation. It may, however, make some parts of the examination a tad uncomfortable. I'm afraid it's inevitable, though. Just grit your teeth and think of the Caribbean."
The next few minutes were indeed harrowing for Leah, as the Doctor's fingers dipped into her exposed armpits several more times, producing jumps and giggles, and then probed the contours of her ribs, which at times was firm and relaxing and at others dug in and tickled almost unbearably, making her fully shout with laughter at the most extreme point. Fortunately, the tickles were not too protracted, and Leah was able to endure, though her usually unflappable aura of cool came through the exercise a little battered.
Leah was able to relax, for a while, when Dr. Mesani shifted her focus to the taut muscles of her butt and long legs, but her panic returned with a vengeance as the doctor approached her bare feet. Again, Dr. Mesani chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "I promise you, it will be much easier if you relax. Your poor toes are curled so tight that the bottoms of your feet look like accordions."
"Sorry," Leah said sheepishly. "It's just that my feet are my most ticklish spot."
"Hardly uncommon. You should have seen the last girl who was in here, the poor darling. I was afraid she would cry when I did her feet. But I suppose that's hardly what you want to hear at this point," she said solicitously, observing that the tension in Leah's feet had moved all the way up to her buttocks. "I can only try to be quick."
Leah grasped the underside of the massage table tightly as Dr. Mesani lifted her right foot a few inches off the table. Leah's feet, though a tad large, perhaps, were as nicely formed as the rest of her, beginning with narrow heels and tapering gently through the arch into a rather broad ball and long toes. At first, Mesani's attention to them was pleasant, relaxing Leah's tension a bit. Then, Leah's eyes flew wide open as the Doctor's short fingernails scratched lightly down her sole, from the base of her toes to the top of her heel. Her toes splayed and wiggled as if electrified; she let out a whoop that dissolved into giggles: "WHOOOOhoohohohoohoohooo...." Against her will, she yanked her foot away from the Doctor, but Mesani's grip was surprisingly strong. Leah meant to apologize, but Dr. Mesani began light, exploratory stroking of the skin at the base of her toes, and the reporter convulsed anew with laughter. The Doctor repeated the examination with the other foot, then, stabilizing both legs by gripping the ankles under her arm, torturously zipped the tip of her finger one by one from the tip of each toe down the bare sole, explaining something about the Babinski test. With each stroke, Leah jumped and bellowed with forced laughter, until her body ached and tears had started from the corners of her eyes. "Poor darling," Mesani said, breaking her professional detachment for another moment. "It makes me cringe even to perform this part on someone else." For the hoarsely heaving Leah, her sympathy held little comfort. As the examination continued, tormenting her tender feet almost beyond endurance, Leah, amidst gales of laughter and to her unspeakable mortification, blurted "Please!" Dr. Mesani only clucked sympathetically and cooed, "Not much longer, dear."
At last, the examination was done, and a disheveled Leah sat up and caught her breath. Her golden-skinned face was tinged with pink, from combined exertion and embarassment.
"Excellent, Ms. Laphroig. You appear to be in ideal condition for our journey." She handed the shaken reporter a gilded, symbolic ticket and a bound itinerary. " I look forward to seeing you on board the ship. I will be available for physical therapy and massage. I assure you, it will not be anywhere near this...harrowing."
Leah stood, reassembling her cool veneer and unconsciously rubbing the bottoms of her bare feet against the thick carpet as if to console them. "That's it, then?"
"That's all! The itinerary will instruct you as to when and where to board. You have been admitted to an extraordinarily exclusive inner circle, Ms. Laphroig. And I promise you, our journey will be...beyond your wildest imagining."

More to come....
 
Great so far! I look forward to the next installment.
 
Yum! Quite an appetizer!

I was predisposed to you as soon as you cited Virginia Woolf, but even if you had apologized to Katherine Porter (Didn't she write
SHIP OF FOOLS?) instead, you would have won me over with this cagey,
amusing set-up. The undercover reporter with the tongue-twisting cognomen will be hard-pressed to keep her cover, her clothes, and her wits if the qualifier is any indication.
I'll be a devoted reader!
 
just bringing this back to the top...

I'll be posting part 3 very soon, so I wanted to bring the earliest stuff back to the top. Hope I'm not violating any etiquette rules.:D
 
bump

All right, maybe I'm an egomaniac, but the new parts don't make much sense without the old. Apologies if I offend.
 
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