Tickle Pimp
Part V
By Kid Indy
Voices sound familiar to people all the time, but to Joy Evans, one voice at an interdepartmental meeting seemed very familiar. As Mark, one of the accountants working for the ad agency, presented the numerical rundown of a possible spread in the daily paper, Joy knew that even though she had never paired the voice and the face, she could now tell at least one person who had tied her up one Friday evening. Joy now knew her first client; Mark had been patronizing a tickle pimp.
Joy walked up to him after the morning meeting, confident that in the open, she would have the upper hand. "How have you been, Mark?" The accountant did a too-noticeable double take before answering.
"Fine. What's your name again?"
"I think you know my name. What do you do for fun, Mark?" He now had an obvious look of panic on his face.
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"
"No need. Just remember that I know. And if I want to, I can put you in big trouble." She turned on her heel and walked out of the meeting, a confident grin making her already-beautiful face glow. Of course, Mark did not see this, but he enjoyed looking at her suit-clad retreating figure and those so-ticklish legs in their hose so much that he did not hear a question that an ad writer was asking him. Big trouble indeed.*
After work she drove home, knowing that Jim would be around to pick her up at 8:30. She wondered exactly what was in store tonight; after all, Jim had never before mentioned what she should wear. He had always provided outfits, so the clothes that she wore in the van were largely irrelevant. Her second client, the eccentric Elena, had been a skillful tickler, but still not as torturous as Jim. She had paid well, though; Joy had made a thousand dollars for the half-hour of pure torture. Joy wondered who would be the client tonight.
Joy chose a black evening gown that made her slim waist seem even slimmer and gave her curves that were nothing short of dangerous. She wore black hose and black heels, and she wore her hair up and put on a pearl necklace that on old boyfriend had given her. She was surprised that the process was almost fun; living in this strange fantasy world, she almost wanted to dress up for her client.
When Jim picked her up, he was in a double-breasted suit that gave his massive frame a stateliness that Joy could only call handsome. "So who is this client that I have to dress up for? And why are you all decked out?"
"No client tonight, Joy. Are you hungry?"
"Are you taking me on a date?"
"I'm buying you dinner if you get in the van." Jim smiled a half smile; Joy could not tell whether he was being serious or not. But she got into the passenger seat of the van, leaving the isolation chamber behind her. They pulled out of her apartment building's parking garage and started across town, and Joy was fascinated.
"Do you always do this for your tickle-girls?" She got a chuckle for that one.
"No, not always. I just wanted to apologize for not telling you about Elena." Joy wondered how often this hulk of a man apologized for anything.
"That was a nasty surprise."
"But not out of your bounds, was it?"
"For that kind of money? Bring her back whenever you want!" Joy was startled for a moment at the enthusiasm that the cash brought into her voice. She covered her mouth for a moment, and Jim laughed out loud. The rest of the trip they chatted about her experiences, and before long they pulled into a high-class Italian restaurant. "Now this is a step up from McDonald's, Jim!"
"I thought you might like it." They went inside. Jim acted the perfect gentleman, holding doors and pulling out Joy's chair and everything. Joy wondered exactly what he was after doing all this. She decided to take the initiative in conversation.
"So what did you do before you started..." She could not find a good way to say it. "...doing what you're doing?"
"I worked for the government."
"Like in the military?"
"Like CIA." Joy showed a little surprise at this, but she then thought that this made some sense. "And yes, I was an interrogator."
"Is that where you learned--"
"How to tickle people? Yeah, eventually. Of course, not everyone needed that. If we captured a soldier, I would just slap him around. And if we caught a spy, we had electro-shock. But it wasn't interrogations that led me down that road-less-travelled."
"What do you read in your spare time?"
This got a laugh out of Jim. "I was an English major in college. ROTC, of course, but I studied literature. Does that surprise you?"
"Yeah, somewhat. But you were saying? Why did you learn the secret art of tickling?"
"You really want to know that, don't you? I usually don't talk about this, but I guess you know about my line of work. So here goes." He shifted in his seat, scooting his once-pasta-laden plate away from him. "Like I said, we could do pretty much what we had to with enemy soldiers. The press isn't going to whine too much if we beat up a kid in Hussein's army. But internal threats were different. The government always keeps a list of the most dangerous leftists in the nation, the kinds who could end up leading revolutions. Many of them are college students."
"And you couldn't go Kent State on them."
"Precisely. So we have to convince them to take on safe, conventional careers. There's no danger in a lawyer who's left wing. They're too tied to the money. So in a few cases, we had to talk the really bright left-wingers into entering conventional fields."
"So you'd grab them, right?"
"That's right. And that's why I tell you that you really haven't experienced what a really good tickler can do to your body. I've tickled some college girls all through the night. You've experienced forty-five minutes once."
"So why didn't I hear about any of this?"
"First, because we're good. Second, because you were at Ohio State. Third, because you were an advertising major!" He laughed at himself with this last remark. Joy was not as amused.
"So where did you grab them from?"
"Mostly the high-end schools. I tickled a couple from Harvard, one from Yale, all kinds of girls from Berkeley. Once I had given them the tickling of their lives, I returned them to their apartments and told them that if they weren't on track to entering a respectable profession by the end of the semester, I would be back. Of course, they all tried to report it to the cops. But the cops usually didn't believe them, and besides, our op center was long gone just a few hours after I finished the job; the cops had nothing to find."
"Have any of them turned out dangerous?"
"Not one. There was one from Columbia, though, who was more trouble than most."
Joy found herself getting more excited about this than she felt comfortable with. She wondered whether Elena really had gotten to her, but her curiosity about the Columbia girl was even more pressing. "Tell me about that one."
Jim grinned at her; he could see her face getting flushed, and that meant that she was starting to get into this. "Okay, I'll tell you. We kept monitoring her after my first visit. She was a sociology major, the kind who either turns conservative after graduation or tries to go to Latin America to change the world. I pegged her for the second type. So we grabbed her one weekend, and I gave her a four-hour tickling. That's usually enough to straighten out anyone, but she was hardheaded." Joy was leaning in closer.
"So a year after the first visit, I grabbed her again. A partner of mine came along with me to play the good cop, so we had the psychological war planned out. She forged a note to the college girl's roommate saying that she was going out of town for the weekend."
"You had her for a whole weekend?"
"Yeah. So we took her to a bomb shelter in upstate New York. The first night I gave her another four hour treatment. But then I left her in her underwear in the bedroom in that bomb shelter and went to a motel for the night. My partner came in and played slumber party with her. She was the sympathetic ear, you see. They talked about life, about the poor starving kids in China and all that. They went to sleep, and my partner left in the morning. Then I came back."
"I gave her fifteen on, five off for the entire morning. I tied her face up, face down, in a chair, probably ten different positions. And every time I'd give her a five minute break after fifteen minutes of tickling, just so she wouldn't pass out on me. Some of the time I'd just leave her untied and wrestle her to the ground and tickle her. That's even worse for the soul, you know. You feel like you should fight back, but you're fighting someone bigger and stronger who is tickling you so badly that you don't have any strength." Joy's eyes were positively glowing.
"So then my partner came in with some lunch for her. She talked to her about how much good she could do as a government social worker there in New York, how starting revolutions in Nicaragua would only get people killed. This girl was taking it in hook, line, and sinker. But then after a potty break, I came back in."
"You did this to her for hours on end?"
"Absolutely. Fifteen on, five off. If you'll notice, that's how I did you those first two nights. Of course, I only gave you three rounds each time. Except for a couple short ones the second night, of course."
"And that almost broke me."
"You have no idea. Anyway, I gave it to Columbia girl fifteen on, five off from lunchtime until about seven at night. She was sweating like a pig by then. She was offering money, sex, her roommate, anything I wanted. I had her broken. But after my partner had dinner with her, I gave her another four hour treatment. And the after-dinner tickling I did blindfolded and almost exclusively with tools. She had lost her voice, but I kept on going. And Sunday morning we dropped her off."
Joy was breathing more quickly than she realized. She stopped herself and asked, "What happened then?"
"We monitored her. She married straight out of college and runs a soup kitchen in the Bronx. I like to think of her as my Pygmalion project; I took a blooming revolutionary and made her a model citizen." Jim grinned in triumph.
"So why did you get out of the CIA?"
"Got tired of answering to Uncle Sam. So now I'm a businessman."
They finished with an ice cream dessert, and before long they were on the way back to Joy's apartment. "Why did you really take me out tonight?"
"What, do you think this was a date or something?"
"Well, maybe."
"Think I want a goodnight kiss from you?"
Joy looked at him slyly. "Maybe..."
Jim pulled the van into a parking space at her apartment. "Well, I'm sorry, kid. That's not what I was after tonight. I mainly wanted to make up for not telling you about Elena."
"So you aren't attracted to me at all?"
"Good night, Joy. Be ready after work Friday."
Joy stepped out of the van and shut the door. "Christ, I shouldn't be wanting to date some pimp anyway. What was I thinking?" She walked over to the elevator door and pushed the button.
She heard Jim call to her. "Joy!" She turned around. He winked and said, "Good night."
*See Tickle Pimp part 3 for the previous appearance of this character.
* * * * * *
I know that this one is a bit short on actual tickling, but it will resume in episode 6. I promise. I've set up some possible directions for an ending; how do some of you want it to end? I do want to hear from you, so please post feedback, suggestions, or ideas for an ending. Thanks all!
Kid Indy
Part V
By Kid Indy
Voices sound familiar to people all the time, but to Joy Evans, one voice at an interdepartmental meeting seemed very familiar. As Mark, one of the accountants working for the ad agency, presented the numerical rundown of a possible spread in the daily paper, Joy knew that even though she had never paired the voice and the face, she could now tell at least one person who had tied her up one Friday evening. Joy now knew her first client; Mark had been patronizing a tickle pimp.
Joy walked up to him after the morning meeting, confident that in the open, she would have the upper hand. "How have you been, Mark?" The accountant did a too-noticeable double take before answering.
"Fine. What's your name again?"
"I think you know my name. What do you do for fun, Mark?" He now had an obvious look of panic on his face.
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"
"No need. Just remember that I know. And if I want to, I can put you in big trouble." She turned on her heel and walked out of the meeting, a confident grin making her already-beautiful face glow. Of course, Mark did not see this, but he enjoyed looking at her suit-clad retreating figure and those so-ticklish legs in their hose so much that he did not hear a question that an ad writer was asking him. Big trouble indeed.*
After work she drove home, knowing that Jim would be around to pick her up at 8:30. She wondered exactly what was in store tonight; after all, Jim had never before mentioned what she should wear. He had always provided outfits, so the clothes that she wore in the van were largely irrelevant. Her second client, the eccentric Elena, had been a skillful tickler, but still not as torturous as Jim. She had paid well, though; Joy had made a thousand dollars for the half-hour of pure torture. Joy wondered who would be the client tonight.
Joy chose a black evening gown that made her slim waist seem even slimmer and gave her curves that were nothing short of dangerous. She wore black hose and black heels, and she wore her hair up and put on a pearl necklace that on old boyfriend had given her. She was surprised that the process was almost fun; living in this strange fantasy world, she almost wanted to dress up for her client.
When Jim picked her up, he was in a double-breasted suit that gave his massive frame a stateliness that Joy could only call handsome. "So who is this client that I have to dress up for? And why are you all decked out?"
"No client tonight, Joy. Are you hungry?"
"Are you taking me on a date?"
"I'm buying you dinner if you get in the van." Jim smiled a half smile; Joy could not tell whether he was being serious or not. But she got into the passenger seat of the van, leaving the isolation chamber behind her. They pulled out of her apartment building's parking garage and started across town, and Joy was fascinated.
"Do you always do this for your tickle-girls?" She got a chuckle for that one.
"No, not always. I just wanted to apologize for not telling you about Elena." Joy wondered how often this hulk of a man apologized for anything.
"That was a nasty surprise."
"But not out of your bounds, was it?"
"For that kind of money? Bring her back whenever you want!" Joy was startled for a moment at the enthusiasm that the cash brought into her voice. She covered her mouth for a moment, and Jim laughed out loud. The rest of the trip they chatted about her experiences, and before long they pulled into a high-class Italian restaurant. "Now this is a step up from McDonald's, Jim!"
"I thought you might like it." They went inside. Jim acted the perfect gentleman, holding doors and pulling out Joy's chair and everything. Joy wondered exactly what he was after doing all this. She decided to take the initiative in conversation.
"So what did you do before you started..." She could not find a good way to say it. "...doing what you're doing?"
"I worked for the government."
"Like in the military?"
"Like CIA." Joy showed a little surprise at this, but she then thought that this made some sense. "And yes, I was an interrogator."
"Is that where you learned--"
"How to tickle people? Yeah, eventually. Of course, not everyone needed that. If we captured a soldier, I would just slap him around. And if we caught a spy, we had electro-shock. But it wasn't interrogations that led me down that road-less-travelled."
"What do you read in your spare time?"
This got a laugh out of Jim. "I was an English major in college. ROTC, of course, but I studied literature. Does that surprise you?"
"Yeah, somewhat. But you were saying? Why did you learn the secret art of tickling?"
"You really want to know that, don't you? I usually don't talk about this, but I guess you know about my line of work. So here goes." He shifted in his seat, scooting his once-pasta-laden plate away from him. "Like I said, we could do pretty much what we had to with enemy soldiers. The press isn't going to whine too much if we beat up a kid in Hussein's army. But internal threats were different. The government always keeps a list of the most dangerous leftists in the nation, the kinds who could end up leading revolutions. Many of them are college students."
"And you couldn't go Kent State on them."
"Precisely. So we have to convince them to take on safe, conventional careers. There's no danger in a lawyer who's left wing. They're too tied to the money. So in a few cases, we had to talk the really bright left-wingers into entering conventional fields."
"So you'd grab them, right?"
"That's right. And that's why I tell you that you really haven't experienced what a really good tickler can do to your body. I've tickled some college girls all through the night. You've experienced forty-five minutes once."
"So why didn't I hear about any of this?"
"First, because we're good. Second, because you were at Ohio State. Third, because you were an advertising major!" He laughed at himself with this last remark. Joy was not as amused.
"So where did you grab them from?"
"Mostly the high-end schools. I tickled a couple from Harvard, one from Yale, all kinds of girls from Berkeley. Once I had given them the tickling of their lives, I returned them to their apartments and told them that if they weren't on track to entering a respectable profession by the end of the semester, I would be back. Of course, they all tried to report it to the cops. But the cops usually didn't believe them, and besides, our op center was long gone just a few hours after I finished the job; the cops had nothing to find."
"Have any of them turned out dangerous?"
"Not one. There was one from Columbia, though, who was more trouble than most."
Joy found herself getting more excited about this than she felt comfortable with. She wondered whether Elena really had gotten to her, but her curiosity about the Columbia girl was even more pressing. "Tell me about that one."
Jim grinned at her; he could see her face getting flushed, and that meant that she was starting to get into this. "Okay, I'll tell you. We kept monitoring her after my first visit. She was a sociology major, the kind who either turns conservative after graduation or tries to go to Latin America to change the world. I pegged her for the second type. So we grabbed her one weekend, and I gave her a four-hour tickling. That's usually enough to straighten out anyone, but she was hardheaded." Joy was leaning in closer.
"So a year after the first visit, I grabbed her again. A partner of mine came along with me to play the good cop, so we had the psychological war planned out. She forged a note to the college girl's roommate saying that she was going out of town for the weekend."
"You had her for a whole weekend?"
"Yeah. So we took her to a bomb shelter in upstate New York. The first night I gave her another four hour treatment. But then I left her in her underwear in the bedroom in that bomb shelter and went to a motel for the night. My partner came in and played slumber party with her. She was the sympathetic ear, you see. They talked about life, about the poor starving kids in China and all that. They went to sleep, and my partner left in the morning. Then I came back."
"I gave her fifteen on, five off for the entire morning. I tied her face up, face down, in a chair, probably ten different positions. And every time I'd give her a five minute break after fifteen minutes of tickling, just so she wouldn't pass out on me. Some of the time I'd just leave her untied and wrestle her to the ground and tickle her. That's even worse for the soul, you know. You feel like you should fight back, but you're fighting someone bigger and stronger who is tickling you so badly that you don't have any strength." Joy's eyes were positively glowing.
"So then my partner came in with some lunch for her. She talked to her about how much good she could do as a government social worker there in New York, how starting revolutions in Nicaragua would only get people killed. This girl was taking it in hook, line, and sinker. But then after a potty break, I came back in."
"You did this to her for hours on end?"
"Absolutely. Fifteen on, five off. If you'll notice, that's how I did you those first two nights. Of course, I only gave you three rounds each time. Except for a couple short ones the second night, of course."
"And that almost broke me."
"You have no idea. Anyway, I gave it to Columbia girl fifteen on, five off from lunchtime until about seven at night. She was sweating like a pig by then. She was offering money, sex, her roommate, anything I wanted. I had her broken. But after my partner had dinner with her, I gave her another four hour treatment. And the after-dinner tickling I did blindfolded and almost exclusively with tools. She had lost her voice, but I kept on going. And Sunday morning we dropped her off."
Joy was breathing more quickly than she realized. She stopped herself and asked, "What happened then?"
"We monitored her. She married straight out of college and runs a soup kitchen in the Bronx. I like to think of her as my Pygmalion project; I took a blooming revolutionary and made her a model citizen." Jim grinned in triumph.
"So why did you get out of the CIA?"
"Got tired of answering to Uncle Sam. So now I'm a businessman."
They finished with an ice cream dessert, and before long they were on the way back to Joy's apartment. "Why did you really take me out tonight?"
"What, do you think this was a date or something?"
"Well, maybe."
"Think I want a goodnight kiss from you?"
Joy looked at him slyly. "Maybe..."
Jim pulled the van into a parking space at her apartment. "Well, I'm sorry, kid. That's not what I was after tonight. I mainly wanted to make up for not telling you about Elena."
"So you aren't attracted to me at all?"
"Good night, Joy. Be ready after work Friday."
Joy stepped out of the van and shut the door. "Christ, I shouldn't be wanting to date some pimp anyway. What was I thinking?" She walked over to the elevator door and pushed the button.
She heard Jim call to her. "Joy!" She turned around. He winked and said, "Good night."
*See Tickle Pimp part 3 for the previous appearance of this character.
* * * * * *
I know that this one is a bit short on actual tickling, but it will resume in episode 6. I promise. I've set up some possible directions for an ending; how do some of you want it to end? I do want to hear from you, so please post feedback, suggestions, or ideas for an ending. Thanks all!
Kid Indy
I guess that's ok, but I was just starting to get into it with this last installment. (Number 5) It's just begun dude, if ya tired of it, hey yer the author, but you got yerself a fan.
