dig dug dog
3rd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2001
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Well friends, I know some of you have waited a while for my next story. All I can say is that I prefer tickling quality to quantity. (And I'm no Dave2112 who can do both!) I do offer some quantity in terms of the length of this tale. You know my style by now. I hope the pay-offs are worth the build-ups. Let me know your thoughts. And to a certain TMF friend--I hope you enjoy!
MATCH (WON), (TRAP) SET, POINT (MADE)
A story of Anna Kournikova
“What do you think, Anna, a quick massage afterwards, or a long one?” Ricky Simons looked up at the sleek, blond tennis star and saw her pause at the question. She sighed and looked him in the eye.
“Ricky, give me a break, will you? I’m about to play an important match and I am not thinking about massages. Lately, they have not been that relaxing anyway. I think you might be losing the touch.” She turned away and threw a small pink towel over her left shoulder.
Ricky watched her exit the private locker room, a slight bounce in her long-legged step. She was wearing an all-white outfit. The professional masseur felt stung. If it had only been this one comment, but Anna Kournikova had been treating him rather poorly for the last three weeks with her impatient put downs and little jokes at his expense. Ricky couldn’t figure out why she was acting this way. He certainly wasn’t about to leave this job with it’s good money and even better prestige, but it was pretty annoying. And, damn it, he and Anna had been together, as masseur and athlete, for almost three years.
But his pride demanded action…and his heart—ok, he had to admit it—he had a small crush on Anna. What was wrong with her, anyway? She was stubborn, and strong-willed—sure. Ricky actually liked that about her, but her ego had grown to scary proportions since her latest endorsement deals. Nothing was good enough anymore. He wondered silently what could knock Anna K. down a couple of pegs, back down to her regular, ‘normal,’ degree of arrogance? She had to learn that she couldn’t control everything and everybody. Pre-match jitters or excitement were no excuse.
As Anna played, Ricky watched on television. He daydreamed about ways to put the star in her place. Maybe if she lost today, it would help, but she seemed to be well on her way to slaughtering the slender, 19 year-old French newcomer. What were Anna’s weaknesses? Well, her English was good, but not perfect. Her tennis was still not at championship level, although she was improving. She hated spiders and roaches, but overall she was a fairly tough lady.
The network broke for commercial and Ricky started to clean up the massage area, in case Her Highness wanted a rub down after all. He finally came to the conclusion that it probably made sense just to do the simplest thing and talk it out with Anna. After all this time together they should be able to discuss a touchy subject—in the interest of their professional relationship.
About 40 minutes later, Anna had beaten her opponent badly. Ricky saw Noelle, the Frenchwoman, come toward Anna to shake her hand. The Russian sort of brushed the tips of Noelle’s long fingers and didn’t make eye-contact. Typical, Ricky thought, and rehearsed the lines he planned to use to confront Anna’s self-centeredness. It wasn’t going to be easy, but what else could he do?
Anna was beaming as she ran into the locker room. She removed her red hair band and shook out her trademark golden locks. Ricky saw them tumble down and swoosh around, almost as if in slow motion. He rubbed his eyes quickly to undo the illusion. “Ricky, I think I’ll take that long massage you mentioned. I do deserve it after that match. Ricky, did you see how I crunched the little French maid? It was a bit harder than I’m sure it looked.”
“Uh huh,” Ricky answered. “I’ll have the table ready Ms. K. when you are out of the shower.”
“Ms K.? Aren’t we the formal one? Ricky, are you upset about what I said before the match?” Not waiting for an answer, Anna clicked her tongue in disapproval and went behind a partition to disrobe. Her white tennis outfit was slung over the brown divider and she slipped out of her custom-made shoes. “I’ll be right back, Mr. S.” Anna emphasized his name in rebuttal.
15 minutes later, Anna emerged from the shower room, wearing a long, yellow bathrobe and her hair was in a small white towel. Ricky knew from experience that she had slipped on a colored sports bra and running shorts underneath. She laid herself carefully on the padded table, face down, and turned her head to the left, setting it on a round, blue pillow. Slowly stretching out her arms, she let her hands hang slightly over the table’s edge. Her toes came just to the other end of the table. As usual, Ricky noticed the high, strong arches of her feet.
As Ricky began working on Anna’s shoulders his resolve wavered. Should he stir up trouble? Maybe it was better just to swallow his pride. The truth was, she could easily fire him. There were a million guys—or women—ready, willing and able to do this job. But something inside Ricky wouldn’t let him back down.
“Harder, Ricky, harder,” Anna raised her left shoulder and gestured toward it with her chin.
As he pressed in with more force around her shoulder blade, Ricky began his little prepared speech. “Anna, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Recently, you have not been treating me very respectfully and I really believe…”
Interrupting him, Anna said loudly, “Oh Ricky, you are so American, always having to talk about your feelings. Whatever it is, just get over it. For God’s sake, be a man!” Anna punctuated her order with a little chuckle.
Ricky was taken aback. He had expected an argument, but not an outright rejection of even bringing up the issue. He felt his face quickly go red and warm with a combination of embarrassment and anger. At the same time, Ricky noticed a head peeping suddenly inside the locker room door and then out again. He thought it looked like Noelle, but he was too upset and distracted to be sure. “Anna this has been, I mean, I’ve held back, you know…you’re not the easiest person….”
“Ricky, have you thought about seeing a psychiatrist? Isn’t that what all the Americans love to do when their feelings are hurting them?” Anna giggled slightly and turned her head in the opposite direction. “Harder, Ricky,” she said again.
The masseur was speechless and defeated. The blond athlete had definitely gotten the better of him quickly and simply, Ricky thought. His mind raced and he tried to contemplate his next big pay check and the friends who drooled over this celebrity job. (Some of them had to be revived with cold water the first time they heard what he did for a living.) But these reassuring images didn’t help much. Damn Anna’s bitchiness!
“Oh…excuse me—pardon.” It was Noelle standing just inside the door—and it had probably been her before. How long had she been standing out there? Ricky wondered. Did she hear his whole interaction with Anna? Did she hear her humiliate him?
“Can I help you?…you’re Noelle Sasson aren’t you?” Ricky spoke quickly, hoping he wasn’t blushing too badly from Anna’s verbal raps.
“Yes, I’m so sorry, “ Noelle spoke quietly in a fairly thick French accent. “I was just looking for Anna, to congratulate her…is this a ‘bad time’, as you say?”
Ricky looked down at the floor and caught a glimpse of Anna’s smirking face.
“Oh no, Noelle,” Anna called out, still lying flat on the table. “Come right in. You know, you played, ah…pretty well…today,” she said slowly and cheerfully—too cheerfully.
Ricky looked up at Noelle now to gauge her reaction to Anna’s obvious patronizing. He saw a dark frown pass over the brunette’s pixyish features, but her expression soon turned pleasant again.
“Not really,” Noelle said, laughing slightly. “But you were at top form, Anna, truly. Actually, I wanted to ask you if we could do practice together sometime. I know it would help my game.”
Anna was silent for a few beats. “You know, Noelle, I could say ‘okay’ out of politeness, but I will spare you waiting and wondering. I really will be so busy playing and performing in the next months—it won’t be possible. No, it is impossible.”
Ricky rolled his eyes. ‘Performing’—is that what Anna called doing a few TV commercials?
“No problem, Anna,” the French woman said. “Hey, do you get a massage after all the games? Maybe I should try that.”
“Well, Ricky here might be looking for work soon—no, no, I’m just joking. Right Ricky?” She glanced up at him as he stood over her head and smiled brightly. Ricky nodded and faked a brief grin.
“Ah, but you must be careful teasing your masseur, Anna dear. In France we have a saying: the masseur knows all the secrets of your body, better than the doctor.” Noelle looked Ricky straight in the eyes, held them and winked. The man enjoyed the flirting attention, but felt like she was getting at something he didn’t quite see. “Oh yes,” she continued. “He must know all your vulnerable areas. He could…take advantage, if provoked.”
“My Ricky would never hurt me,” Anna chuckled lightly. “He is too loyal and…nice…in that American sort of way. You know what I mean, Noelle?”
But the Frenchwoman was not joining this America-trashing. “No, it’s true Anna, you should watch out…he probably even knows where you are ticklish.”
Anna quickly looked back at Noelle for the first time. The latter could be seen making eye-contact again with Ricky. She was also raising her eyebrows and chin at him slightly, almost as if she was encouraging him in some way.
“I am not ticklish,” Anna said calmly after a few seconds. “But I am getting chilled in here, by the way.”
Ricky knew now that Noelle was trying to get him to tickle Anna Kournikova. He wasn’t sure of the 19 year-old’s motives, but the idea was quickly growing on him. It dawned on Ricky that if Anna was ticklish, it might be an excellent way to get her back for all her annoying, bossy, put-downs. Why didn’t he think of it before? Hmmm…tickling as a way to break down Anna’s arrogance? Not bad, Noelle, Ricky mused, not bad.
“Ricky, I’ll get dressed now,” Anna said and began to lift herself up from the table.
Ricky saw his chance slipping away. Quickly he said, “What’s the matter, Ms. K? Are you afraid I might…tickle you?” Ricky made a tickling motion with a few of his fingers and smiled broadly at Anna.
Ricky and Noelle saw Anna pause in mid-movement to consider her answer. Assuming an air of explaining a complex political situation, Anna said, “No, I told you that I am not. I am chilly, I am bored and I have not been getting massaged in the last five minutes, if you had not noticed, and….”
“…You’re very ticklish,” Noelle finished the sentence. It’s okay, Anna. Most of the girls are. I mean, I am not, but all my friends are, my sisters are…everybody.”
“But you are not?” Anna replied immediately, annoyed and suspicious.
“No, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it is the will-power or something. I have never been—the boyfriends sometimes get frustrated you know.” Noelle laughed. “Here, you can try.”
Noelle moved closer to Anna who was sitting upright on the table. The French girl raised her arms and held them out to each side. “Go ahead. Do what you like. I’m ready.” Noelle stood there without moving, a bit scarecrowish, and dared Anna Kournikova with her eyes.
Anna appeared to be uncertain about what to do. She raised her right hand to her mouth and bit unconsciously at her thumbnail. Suddenly, she lunged out with both hands, grabbed Noelle’s waist and squeezed the small girl like a near-empty tube of toothpaste. After five seconds of this, Anna moved her point of attack slowly up toward Noelle’s ribcage, digging in thoroughly and aggressively over the length of Noelle’s sides.
But Noelle just stood there, arms still pointing straight out, patiently enduring the Russian’s probing, prodding touches. A placid, relaxed expression covered the French girl’s face and she occasionally looked skyward, as if to say, Are you done yet?
“OK Frenchy,” Anna said loudly and laughingly. “Now I am getting down to business. I beat you once today and I will beat you again.” Sliding off the table, the tennis player/model wrapped one arm around Noelle’s waist and pushed her free hand into Noelle’s right underarm. Anna went at it like a demon, snaking her fingers all over the armpit and then back down into the girls waist and ribs. But there was still nothing remotely resembling a ticklish response coming from Noelle. The French newcomer did smile—a smile of victory over the increasingly-frustrated Anna.
“I told you, my dear, I am not ticklish. Many have tried,” Noelle stated.
Anna stopped tickling and crossed her arms. She seemed amused, but also a bit put out. “You are probably ticklish in a place that is not exposed, like on your feet or your breasts. But I do not have time for this silliness.” She turned toward the changing area, but Noelle stepped in front of her.
“You can try on me anywhere you want, but the reaction will be the very same.” Noelle stared Anna straight in the eyes until Anna looked away. It seemed the Russian was convinced enough not to try her luck with Noelle any further. “The question is…how would you be under tickling fingers?” Noelle glanced over at Ricky when she finished speaking.
The tall masseur stared in the direction of the two girls, not knowing what was going to unfold.
“Sasson, listen, that is enough already,” Anna said, impatiently. “I’m getting out of here.”
Noelle smiled or perhaps smirked. “OK, let’s just call it a forfeit then—and you lose.” She walked over to a chair in the corner of the room and sat down. Anna, on the other hand, had not yet moved an inch. Again, she seemed to be debating with herself. A full 7 seconds had passed when the blond beauty laid down on the table, face up, and said, “I am a lot like you, Noelle, about getting tickled. I am not sensitive that way. But go ahead and try.”
“Actually, I think Ricky would like to try for me, no Ricky?” Noelle nodded at him.
Coming slowly around to the side of the table, Ricky looked down at Anna, grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I’ll go along with the game.
“Fine, I do not care. Let’s just get this over with. He’s handled me thousands of times. Go for it, Mr. S.” Anna closed her eyes. “Maybe this will make up for the massaging I missed.”
Ricky took a deep breath. He wanted to make the most of this. Although he had, in fact, touched Anna thousands of times, he could never remember tickling her. But he was going to make this a ‘massage’ that she would not forget for a long time. Like Anna with Noelle, Ricky went immediately for Anna’s waist and started poking her through the thin bathrobe she wore. He rubbed his fingers with a variety of patterns and pressures around the center of her lovely body. He waited for the laughter, for the protests, for the squirming. He tickled some more, harder…and waited some more. The masseur attacked Anna’s ribs, firmly, but playfully.
“I’ll say ‘ha ha ha’ if you want me to, Ricky, because you’ve done a decent job over the years.” Anna’s tone was lighthearted and amused—but not in a ticklish way.
Hearing the word, ‘decent’ Ricky redoubled his efforts but switched tickle sites completely. It was time to go for the gold. Her feet had to be sensitive, he thought—they just looked so tender and inviting and vulnerable. Standing now the end of the table, Ricky felt he could taste what it might be like to have Anna under his power, at his mercy.
“Better get ready, champ,” Ricky taunted, referring to the fact Anna had never won a major professional tournament. “I’m gonna get you!” He then ran his fingers lightly up and down the soles of her slender feet, wriggled them under her toes, scraped his short nails across her heels. Several times Ricky maneuvered his digits over and around the smooth, pink flesh. And he watched as the young woman lay there calmly, eyes closed, breathe normal. No laughter streamed forth from desperate lungs, no muscles struggled to escape his teasing touches. Anna’s toes remained the picture of composure. Ricky felt crushed.
In a last desperate bid for dignity, Ricky went on a mad search for a ticklish spot: he squeezed Anna’s knees, danced his fingertips lightly under her chin, spent a minute stroking her bare armpits, until his defeat was obvious, painful and complete.
“Oh! Don’t stop, I’m so enjoying myself.” Anna smiled for the first time since the tickling began and sighed contentedly.
At that moment Noelle stood up in the corner. Ricky had almost forgotten she was in the room. “Ricky, I can see how sweet you are, but you just don’t have enough…experience…in this particular kind of, I think you call it, ‘body work’.
Anna opened her eyes at the sound of Noelle’s voice and saw her standing at the end of the table. “Let the loser give you a few tips, OK my friend?” Ricky simply nodded. “Actually, I need you to…make sure she doesn’t get away to soon.” Noelle pointed to Anna’s lower legs. Ricky was still upset and frowning, but he shrugged his shoulders and clamped his strong hands over the well-toned and tanned extremities of the superstar.
“Wait a minute,” Anna responded. “You’ve already seen I’m not ticklish. It was a fair contest, a tie. It’s over now.” An edge of nervousness had crept into Anna’s tone. Ricky caught it and wondered what it meant.
“Oh no, Anna. The contest is between you and me. Ricky was just the warm-up. While he tickled, I watched for weakness…and I believe I found it. You can tickle me more later if you choose.”
“Whatever,” Anna sneered. She tried pulling her legs away from Ricky’s grasp but saw she was locked in tight.
“You see, Ricky,” Noelle began, “Anna did not feel tickled by what you did because you were in too much of a rush. You expected the laughter right away. But tickling doesn’t always work that way. Anna knew you would stop after a few seconds or a couple minutes at the most. She does have a certain amount of self-control, but I’m thinking she cannot keep it up once she finds out I won’t stop tickling until she’s laughing so hard it will hurt our ears. Also, I’m thinking that Anna Kournikova requires a lighter touch to get her going.”
Noelle then placed her fingertips on the bottoms of Anna’s bare feet. Ricky looked back at Anna’s face and saw the young Russian taking a few deep breaths and setting her mouth in a straight, serious line. Her eyes did not look happy. She coughed two or three times as if clearing her lungs of unwanted material that could be used to produce laughter.
Slowly, very slowly Noelle Sasson began to drag her short but sharp nails over the soft skin covering both of Anna’s soles. She started at Anna’s heels and proceeded gradually up through her arches, over the balls and up to the toes. As she dragged, Noelle also wriggled her fingers slightly, trying to maximize the tickly sensations. “So, Anna,” Noelle said brightly after 30 seconds. “How does this feel?”
“No problem,” the star said curtly. Her eyes were closed now and Ricky noticed that her breathing rate had increased.
Noelle went up and down Anna’s feet time after time. After two minutes, she started to tickle even more slowly and used different patterns like figure eights and criss-crosses.
“Are you sure there is no problem, dear Anna?” Noelle taunted. “Does this not really, really…tickle?”
Swallowing once or twice, the blonde bombshell announced, “I am quite comfortable. You may continue.” It seemed to Ricky that Anna was trying very hard to sound tough.
“Oh, I will continue, Anna,” Noelle sounded even tougher to Ricky. “As I said, I will keep going until I uncover just how sensitive and ticklish you are. I’ll never stop until you are laughing and giggling and chuckling. Do you understand, Anna? I’m not going to stop!”
For some reason, Anna opened her eyes and Ricky noticed an unexpected anxiety settling onto her expression. It was as if Anna had suddenly grasped the meaning of the English word, ‘never’ and the word had seized Anna’s imagination. Watching her, Ricky realized what he had to do—what he had to say. This was his chance to make the spoiled beauty beg, to get a big dose of revenge. Noelle would do the actual tickling—for now—but he would break Anna’s self-control because he understood her mind.
“That’s right, Anna,” he began. “Noelle will just keep working on your bare feet with those tingly little touches. Oh look—she’s going under your tender toes. And I think she will be staying there for a long, long time.”
Noelle smiled and nodded at Ricky as he spoke. Suddenly, craftily, she dug into Anna’s elegant, high arches and worked her fingertips back and forth with the tiniest, speediest movement she was capable of.
“Now I know you like to be in charge of things, Anna, but there’s nothing you can do about this…we’ve got you and you can’t get away!
Anna’s head started to roll slightly from side to side. Her eyes were pressed tightly shut.
“How does it feel, Anna?” Ricky asked, all innocence. “Remember, no matter what you do, the tickling will just keep coming. And, Anna, you know you really do deserve this—you’ve been pretty nasty to me lately, so we won’t give up. This is your therapy. We’ve got your feet!…we’re tickling your feet until you laugh…do I hear a giggle?”
“Ricky!” It was Noelle speaking. “She’s trying to cover one foot with the other! Is that cute or what?! I guess what I’m doing must sort of…tickle!”
A word slipped from Anna. “Stop.”
Ricky and Anna looked at each other, delighted. Ricky went first, “STOP?! Oh my…is something wrong, Anna? Stop what?”
Noelle was more direct. “No, my dear, I am not stopping…I will never stop…I will just TICKLE.”
“I said stop!” Anna said with a hint of menace as well as fear.
Noelle was studying Anna’s face as it twitched and struggled to master the sensations that were overloading the nerve-endings of her feet. “Ricky,” she said quickly. “I think that Anna does not like to hear us use words like tickle."
Anna emitted the quietest little groan when Noelle said this. She proceeded to scrape gently along the sides of Anna’s feet which were now wriggling in various directions.
“I think you’re right, Noelle—good call! Maybe you should say something else, just to be sure.”
Noelle was game. “You mean like this: tickle…tickle…koochy koo!” She started sing-songing it. “Anna’s feet look so ticklish! Koochy koo, Anna’s sweet little feet….”
Ricky watched as the corners of Anna’s mouth began to slowly curl upward and her teeth began to appear, white and perfect. Anna placed her hands on the sides of her head and seemed to be attempting to hold laughter at bay by brute, manual force. Her straight blonde hair was visibly shaking as her body began to crumble beneath all she was feeling at the other end of her body.
“Wait a minute, just a minute…guys,” Anna spoke very quietly, letting out little breath. But a moment or two later new sounds welled up within the room. They started softly and then grew. “Nooo, Nooo, Nooo. Hahaha hahaha hahaha waaaaiiiit WAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. STOOOOOOOOOOP! STOOOOOOOOOP PLEEEEAAAAAASE!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.”
Anna’s laughter mounted and now Ricky felt her really try to kick and break free of his grip. He had to bear down with all his weight to keep her in place. Finally, he pushed himself up onto the table and straddled her legs, facing Anna and observing her squirm. Noelle maintained her tickling pace.
“But Anna,” Ricky taunted, “you said you’re not ticklish. Did you…LIE to us?!” He put on a look of mock horror, but through Anna’s thrashing movements, Ricky doubted she saw that.
“Noooooooooo!! Stooop!! Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe Riiiiiickyyyyyy! AAAHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOSTOOOOOOOOP!! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I-I-I-Caaaaaa’nt!” Anna’s head bounced up and down off the blue massage pillow. Her hands dangled around her upper body, not knowing where to land. Ricky looked back at Anna’s feet and saw they were desperately scrambling all over to avoid Noelle’s gentle ministrations.
“Ricky, I think she is way loosened up by now. Go get it!!”
Before responding to Noelle’s call, Ricky continued to watch Anna laughing and wriggling beneath him. Her movements felt strangely provocative and sexy to him; the sound of her out-of-control voice was somehow affecting the feel and fit of the lower section of his clothing. This rich, famous, gorgeous girl was floundering around, completely helpless now against the small touches delivered by another girl’s fingertips to the smooth soles of her bare feet. Ricky couldn’t believe how unraveled Anna had become in the last two minutes. Noelle’s persistence certainly paid off. But now it was his turn.
After another moment of consideration, Ricky separated Anna’s bathrobe slightly. He saw, as predicted, the sports bra and tight shorts she wore. Ricky plunged his highly-trained fingers into Anna Kournikova’s ribcage at the same time as Noelle ceased tickling her feet. The masseur pushed into her skin, firmly but delicately, inching his way across ribs which carried not an ounce of fat. Anna reacted as if paramedics had shocked her with paddles designed for saving a failing heart. She bucked with the force of 10 women and at that instant Ricky was glad he weighed 205 pounds.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AAAAAIIIIIYYYYYYYYYYAYAYAYA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, PL-PL-PL-PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAASE HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.” Anna emitted a stream of high-pitched giggles that physically hurt Ricky’s ears. He winced a bit but continued his probing, getting nearer and nearer to the sides of Anna’s breasts, just an inch or two below her cleanly-shaved underarms. In this respect—feminine shaving—Anna was thoroughly American.
When he reached the spot alongside her impressive mammaries—on both the right and the left—Ricky’s strong fingers made tiny, repeating circles. Pressing into her tender flesh in unexpected rhythms, he was able to make Anna erupt into short, loud chortles and laughing-screams. “Anna…I think you’re ticklish,” Ricky taunted. “But even now you probably won’t admit it—that’s how stubborn and proud you can be! But maybe if I do…this!!”
The only born-American in the room launched an assault on the beautiful blonde’s armpits. Since her arms were not restrained, Ricky had to contend with Anna pressing them down desperately toward her sides. He dug his fingers in slowly, tickling as he went, so that Anna’s power to resist was at an absolute minimum. In seconds Ricky was teasing this rarely-touched area with quick, poking motions in a mixture of piano-playing and word-processing techniques.
“Aaaaarrrrrrgggh!!! STOOOOOOOOP!!!!! I ADMIIIIIIIIIT, ADMIIIIIIIIT, I-I-I-I AM TICKLISHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!! OHNOOHNOOHNOOHNOOHNO, MYGOOOOOOOOD!!!HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” As the Russian rolled her body from side to side and kicked her legs futilely in protest, Ricky heard Anna suddenly switch to her native language. In tones which sounded at turns both prayerful and cursing, Anna pleaded and laughed, giggled and screamed. Ricky understood not a word, but continued to search for moves that got the biggest, most energetic reactions from his employer.
Ricky was feeling that his ‘revenge’ was almost complete and that, at any rate, Anna couldn’t take much more of this. He started to wind down his tickling and Anna’s laughter dwindled gradually to quiet chucking; her struggling grew calmer and more controlled. However, moments later Ricky learned that Noelle was not quite finished with her Russian opponent.
“Ricky, there is something I want to try now,” Noelle began. “I used to do it sometimes to my big sister and it drove her crazy.”
“No, that’s it guys, you are done! Let me up, Ricky.” Anna had regained her voice and her embarrassment and anger could be heard clearly.
“In a minute, dear,” Noelle said, unfazed. “Just one more special little stroke.” The Frenchwoman was still raring to go. As Anna struggled slightly under Rick’s weight, Noelle plucked off her own tennis shoes followed immediately by her clean, white socks. All five feet three inches of her stood there barefoot and smiling. “Ricky, I need you to turn around and hold down her feet.”
“Really? Maybe we should give her a break.” Ricky felt a little guilty for what he had put Anna through. Noelle, however, did not.
“We will, we will…just do what I say now, Ricky.”
The big man easily flipped himself around, glanced up at Noelle for encouragement, and then placed his hands on Anna’s ankles. Anna was too worn out, it seemed, to put up much of a fight.
“You bitch!” Anna yelled weakly at her new nemesis.
Noelle pulled a chair over to the foot of the massage table and sat down. She slowly raised her legs into the air and lined her own feet up with Anna’s. Ricky looked over at them both, a bit puzzled.
As if to respond to his expression, Noelle explained, “Hold on, Ricky—my sister could take almost anything but the toe-tickling. It seems my toes have this strange power to tickle even better than my fingers. Maybe it is because toes seem so much sillier….”
“Toes?” Anna said nervously. “What do you mean?…What are you doing down there? You will stop or I’ll call….”
Anna’s sentence was interrupted when the small digits of Noelle’s feet began to scrape against the bottom of her soles. She was dragging her toenails up and down every inch of smooth, pink flesh she could make contact with. Ricky twisted his head around to watch Anna’s reaction. He was very curious by this point how this new sensation would affect the blonde heartthrob, if at all. He didn’t have long to wait.
For a few seconds Anna’s mouth just hung open soundlessly. Then she started to sputter. Ricky could actually see little droplets of spit fly toward him. Then her head shot back so far he could no longer see her face, but he heard Anna suck in an enormous gulp of air. Ricky cringed, sensing what would now come.
“BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOPSTOOOOOOPSTOOOOOOOOP!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!! WHOOOOOOOAAWHAAAAAAA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!.” Anna was screaming her laughter and her body began shaking from top to bottom. It was truly a challenge now for Ricky to keep her feet pinned.
Noelle started wriggling her toes near the soft base of Anna’s toes. The shorter woman appeared to have incredible toe-dexterity from what Ricky could make out. This stimulation greatly intensified Anna’s already desperate laughter. But Noelle would not let up. The Frenchwoman appeared to delight in exploring variations on how she could flex her toes and where exactly on Anna’s feet would induce the most forced hilarity. This went on for at least five minutes. God only knows, Ricky thought, how long it must have seemed to Anna. And through it all she was writhing, twisting, laughing and pounding her hands on the table—and frequently, on Ricky’s back.
“Anna?!” Noelle had to shout to be heard over Anna’s ticklishness. “I’ll stop now, if you promise not to make trouble for us and to be nicer and kinder to Ricky!”
A momentary pause in the hysteria and then, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YEEEEEEES!!! YEEEEEEEES!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, STOOOOOPMYYYYYYFEEEEET!! MYYYYYYYFEEEEEEEEEEET!!!! YEEEEEES! IIIIIIIIII NIIIIIIIICE, NIIIIIIIIIICE!! STOOOOOOOOPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Noelle beamed in victory and took her time before ending the feet-to-feet stroking. “Remember, if you try to hurt Ricky or me, I will have a wonderful story about this afternoon to share with the television people! I believe they would love to hear about the tennis beauty’s ticklish encounter.” Noelle put on her shoes and socks, blew a kiss to Ricky, and promptly left the room.
Looking at Anna, half passed-out and drenched in sweat, Ricky knew his boss had been broken. She had lost her precious sense of always being in control—even if only for a short while. Although he suspected that later Anna might resume some of her nasty ways, Ricky was also quite sure she could never look at him with that haughty, superior attitude. And if she did…well, he now had ways of turning her smirks into giggles.
MATCH (WON), (TRAP) SET, POINT (MADE)
A story of Anna Kournikova
“What do you think, Anna, a quick massage afterwards, or a long one?” Ricky Simons looked up at the sleek, blond tennis star and saw her pause at the question. She sighed and looked him in the eye.
“Ricky, give me a break, will you? I’m about to play an important match and I am not thinking about massages. Lately, they have not been that relaxing anyway. I think you might be losing the touch.” She turned away and threw a small pink towel over her left shoulder.
Ricky watched her exit the private locker room, a slight bounce in her long-legged step. She was wearing an all-white outfit. The professional masseur felt stung. If it had only been this one comment, but Anna Kournikova had been treating him rather poorly for the last three weeks with her impatient put downs and little jokes at his expense. Ricky couldn’t figure out why she was acting this way. He certainly wasn’t about to leave this job with it’s good money and even better prestige, but it was pretty annoying. And, damn it, he and Anna had been together, as masseur and athlete, for almost three years.
But his pride demanded action…and his heart—ok, he had to admit it—he had a small crush on Anna. What was wrong with her, anyway? She was stubborn, and strong-willed—sure. Ricky actually liked that about her, but her ego had grown to scary proportions since her latest endorsement deals. Nothing was good enough anymore. He wondered silently what could knock Anna K. down a couple of pegs, back down to her regular, ‘normal,’ degree of arrogance? She had to learn that she couldn’t control everything and everybody. Pre-match jitters or excitement were no excuse.
As Anna played, Ricky watched on television. He daydreamed about ways to put the star in her place. Maybe if she lost today, it would help, but she seemed to be well on her way to slaughtering the slender, 19 year-old French newcomer. What were Anna’s weaknesses? Well, her English was good, but not perfect. Her tennis was still not at championship level, although she was improving. She hated spiders and roaches, but overall she was a fairly tough lady.
The network broke for commercial and Ricky started to clean up the massage area, in case Her Highness wanted a rub down after all. He finally came to the conclusion that it probably made sense just to do the simplest thing and talk it out with Anna. After all this time together they should be able to discuss a touchy subject—in the interest of their professional relationship.
About 40 minutes later, Anna had beaten her opponent badly. Ricky saw Noelle, the Frenchwoman, come toward Anna to shake her hand. The Russian sort of brushed the tips of Noelle’s long fingers and didn’t make eye-contact. Typical, Ricky thought, and rehearsed the lines he planned to use to confront Anna’s self-centeredness. It wasn’t going to be easy, but what else could he do?
Anna was beaming as she ran into the locker room. She removed her red hair band and shook out her trademark golden locks. Ricky saw them tumble down and swoosh around, almost as if in slow motion. He rubbed his eyes quickly to undo the illusion. “Ricky, I think I’ll take that long massage you mentioned. I do deserve it after that match. Ricky, did you see how I crunched the little French maid? It was a bit harder than I’m sure it looked.”
“Uh huh,” Ricky answered. “I’ll have the table ready Ms. K. when you are out of the shower.”
“Ms K.? Aren’t we the formal one? Ricky, are you upset about what I said before the match?” Not waiting for an answer, Anna clicked her tongue in disapproval and went behind a partition to disrobe. Her white tennis outfit was slung over the brown divider and she slipped out of her custom-made shoes. “I’ll be right back, Mr. S.” Anna emphasized his name in rebuttal.
15 minutes later, Anna emerged from the shower room, wearing a long, yellow bathrobe and her hair was in a small white towel. Ricky knew from experience that she had slipped on a colored sports bra and running shorts underneath. She laid herself carefully on the padded table, face down, and turned her head to the left, setting it on a round, blue pillow. Slowly stretching out her arms, she let her hands hang slightly over the table’s edge. Her toes came just to the other end of the table. As usual, Ricky noticed the high, strong arches of her feet.
As Ricky began working on Anna’s shoulders his resolve wavered. Should he stir up trouble? Maybe it was better just to swallow his pride. The truth was, she could easily fire him. There were a million guys—or women—ready, willing and able to do this job. But something inside Ricky wouldn’t let him back down.
“Harder, Ricky, harder,” Anna raised her left shoulder and gestured toward it with her chin.
As he pressed in with more force around her shoulder blade, Ricky began his little prepared speech. “Anna, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Recently, you have not been treating me very respectfully and I really believe…”
Interrupting him, Anna said loudly, “Oh Ricky, you are so American, always having to talk about your feelings. Whatever it is, just get over it. For God’s sake, be a man!” Anna punctuated her order with a little chuckle.
Ricky was taken aback. He had expected an argument, but not an outright rejection of even bringing up the issue. He felt his face quickly go red and warm with a combination of embarrassment and anger. At the same time, Ricky noticed a head peeping suddenly inside the locker room door and then out again. He thought it looked like Noelle, but he was too upset and distracted to be sure. “Anna this has been, I mean, I’ve held back, you know…you’re not the easiest person….”
“Ricky, have you thought about seeing a psychiatrist? Isn’t that what all the Americans love to do when their feelings are hurting them?” Anna giggled slightly and turned her head in the opposite direction. “Harder, Ricky,” she said again.
The masseur was speechless and defeated. The blond athlete had definitely gotten the better of him quickly and simply, Ricky thought. His mind raced and he tried to contemplate his next big pay check and the friends who drooled over this celebrity job. (Some of them had to be revived with cold water the first time they heard what he did for a living.) But these reassuring images didn’t help much. Damn Anna’s bitchiness!
“Oh…excuse me—pardon.” It was Noelle standing just inside the door—and it had probably been her before. How long had she been standing out there? Ricky wondered. Did she hear his whole interaction with Anna? Did she hear her humiliate him?
“Can I help you?…you’re Noelle Sasson aren’t you?” Ricky spoke quickly, hoping he wasn’t blushing too badly from Anna’s verbal raps.
“Yes, I’m so sorry, “ Noelle spoke quietly in a fairly thick French accent. “I was just looking for Anna, to congratulate her…is this a ‘bad time’, as you say?”
Ricky looked down at the floor and caught a glimpse of Anna’s smirking face.
“Oh no, Noelle,” Anna called out, still lying flat on the table. “Come right in. You know, you played, ah…pretty well…today,” she said slowly and cheerfully—too cheerfully.
Ricky looked up at Noelle now to gauge her reaction to Anna’s obvious patronizing. He saw a dark frown pass over the brunette’s pixyish features, but her expression soon turned pleasant again.
“Not really,” Noelle said, laughing slightly. “But you were at top form, Anna, truly. Actually, I wanted to ask you if we could do practice together sometime. I know it would help my game.”
Anna was silent for a few beats. “You know, Noelle, I could say ‘okay’ out of politeness, but I will spare you waiting and wondering. I really will be so busy playing and performing in the next months—it won’t be possible. No, it is impossible.”
Ricky rolled his eyes. ‘Performing’—is that what Anna called doing a few TV commercials?
“No problem, Anna,” the French woman said. “Hey, do you get a massage after all the games? Maybe I should try that.”
“Well, Ricky here might be looking for work soon—no, no, I’m just joking. Right Ricky?” She glanced up at him as he stood over her head and smiled brightly. Ricky nodded and faked a brief grin.
“Ah, but you must be careful teasing your masseur, Anna dear. In France we have a saying: the masseur knows all the secrets of your body, better than the doctor.” Noelle looked Ricky straight in the eyes, held them and winked. The man enjoyed the flirting attention, but felt like she was getting at something he didn’t quite see. “Oh yes,” she continued. “He must know all your vulnerable areas. He could…take advantage, if provoked.”
“My Ricky would never hurt me,” Anna chuckled lightly. “He is too loyal and…nice…in that American sort of way. You know what I mean, Noelle?”
But the Frenchwoman was not joining this America-trashing. “No, it’s true Anna, you should watch out…he probably even knows where you are ticklish.”
Anna quickly looked back at Noelle for the first time. The latter could be seen making eye-contact again with Ricky. She was also raising her eyebrows and chin at him slightly, almost as if she was encouraging him in some way.
“I am not ticklish,” Anna said calmly after a few seconds. “But I am getting chilled in here, by the way.”
Ricky knew now that Noelle was trying to get him to tickle Anna Kournikova. He wasn’t sure of the 19 year-old’s motives, but the idea was quickly growing on him. It dawned on Ricky that if Anna was ticklish, it might be an excellent way to get her back for all her annoying, bossy, put-downs. Why didn’t he think of it before? Hmmm…tickling as a way to break down Anna’s arrogance? Not bad, Noelle, Ricky mused, not bad.
“Ricky, I’ll get dressed now,” Anna said and began to lift herself up from the table.
Ricky saw his chance slipping away. Quickly he said, “What’s the matter, Ms. K? Are you afraid I might…tickle you?” Ricky made a tickling motion with a few of his fingers and smiled broadly at Anna.
Ricky and Noelle saw Anna pause in mid-movement to consider her answer. Assuming an air of explaining a complex political situation, Anna said, “No, I told you that I am not. I am chilly, I am bored and I have not been getting massaged in the last five minutes, if you had not noticed, and….”
“…You’re very ticklish,” Noelle finished the sentence. It’s okay, Anna. Most of the girls are. I mean, I am not, but all my friends are, my sisters are…everybody.”
“But you are not?” Anna replied immediately, annoyed and suspicious.
“No, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it is the will-power or something. I have never been—the boyfriends sometimes get frustrated you know.” Noelle laughed. “Here, you can try.”
Noelle moved closer to Anna who was sitting upright on the table. The French girl raised her arms and held them out to each side. “Go ahead. Do what you like. I’m ready.” Noelle stood there without moving, a bit scarecrowish, and dared Anna Kournikova with her eyes.
Anna appeared to be uncertain about what to do. She raised her right hand to her mouth and bit unconsciously at her thumbnail. Suddenly, she lunged out with both hands, grabbed Noelle’s waist and squeezed the small girl like a near-empty tube of toothpaste. After five seconds of this, Anna moved her point of attack slowly up toward Noelle’s ribcage, digging in thoroughly and aggressively over the length of Noelle’s sides.
But Noelle just stood there, arms still pointing straight out, patiently enduring the Russian’s probing, prodding touches. A placid, relaxed expression covered the French girl’s face and she occasionally looked skyward, as if to say, Are you done yet?
“OK Frenchy,” Anna said loudly and laughingly. “Now I am getting down to business. I beat you once today and I will beat you again.” Sliding off the table, the tennis player/model wrapped one arm around Noelle’s waist and pushed her free hand into Noelle’s right underarm. Anna went at it like a demon, snaking her fingers all over the armpit and then back down into the girls waist and ribs. But there was still nothing remotely resembling a ticklish response coming from Noelle. The French newcomer did smile—a smile of victory over the increasingly-frustrated Anna.
“I told you, my dear, I am not ticklish. Many have tried,” Noelle stated.
Anna stopped tickling and crossed her arms. She seemed amused, but also a bit put out. “You are probably ticklish in a place that is not exposed, like on your feet or your breasts. But I do not have time for this silliness.” She turned toward the changing area, but Noelle stepped in front of her.
“You can try on me anywhere you want, but the reaction will be the very same.” Noelle stared Anna straight in the eyes until Anna looked away. It seemed the Russian was convinced enough not to try her luck with Noelle any further. “The question is…how would you be under tickling fingers?” Noelle glanced over at Ricky when she finished speaking.
The tall masseur stared in the direction of the two girls, not knowing what was going to unfold.
“Sasson, listen, that is enough already,” Anna said, impatiently. “I’m getting out of here.”
Noelle smiled or perhaps smirked. “OK, let’s just call it a forfeit then—and you lose.” She walked over to a chair in the corner of the room and sat down. Anna, on the other hand, had not yet moved an inch. Again, she seemed to be debating with herself. A full 7 seconds had passed when the blond beauty laid down on the table, face up, and said, “I am a lot like you, Noelle, about getting tickled. I am not sensitive that way. But go ahead and try.”
“Actually, I think Ricky would like to try for me, no Ricky?” Noelle nodded at him.
Coming slowly around to the side of the table, Ricky looked down at Anna, grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I’ll go along with the game.
“Fine, I do not care. Let’s just get this over with. He’s handled me thousands of times. Go for it, Mr. S.” Anna closed her eyes. “Maybe this will make up for the massaging I missed.”
Ricky took a deep breath. He wanted to make the most of this. Although he had, in fact, touched Anna thousands of times, he could never remember tickling her. But he was going to make this a ‘massage’ that she would not forget for a long time. Like Anna with Noelle, Ricky went immediately for Anna’s waist and started poking her through the thin bathrobe she wore. He rubbed his fingers with a variety of patterns and pressures around the center of her lovely body. He waited for the laughter, for the protests, for the squirming. He tickled some more, harder…and waited some more. The masseur attacked Anna’s ribs, firmly, but playfully.
“I’ll say ‘ha ha ha’ if you want me to, Ricky, because you’ve done a decent job over the years.” Anna’s tone was lighthearted and amused—but not in a ticklish way.
Hearing the word, ‘decent’ Ricky redoubled his efforts but switched tickle sites completely. It was time to go for the gold. Her feet had to be sensitive, he thought—they just looked so tender and inviting and vulnerable. Standing now the end of the table, Ricky felt he could taste what it might be like to have Anna under his power, at his mercy.
“Better get ready, champ,” Ricky taunted, referring to the fact Anna had never won a major professional tournament. “I’m gonna get you!” He then ran his fingers lightly up and down the soles of her slender feet, wriggled them under her toes, scraped his short nails across her heels. Several times Ricky maneuvered his digits over and around the smooth, pink flesh. And he watched as the young woman lay there calmly, eyes closed, breathe normal. No laughter streamed forth from desperate lungs, no muscles struggled to escape his teasing touches. Anna’s toes remained the picture of composure. Ricky felt crushed.
In a last desperate bid for dignity, Ricky went on a mad search for a ticklish spot: he squeezed Anna’s knees, danced his fingertips lightly under her chin, spent a minute stroking her bare armpits, until his defeat was obvious, painful and complete.
“Oh! Don’t stop, I’m so enjoying myself.” Anna smiled for the first time since the tickling began and sighed contentedly.
At that moment Noelle stood up in the corner. Ricky had almost forgotten she was in the room. “Ricky, I can see how sweet you are, but you just don’t have enough…experience…in this particular kind of, I think you call it, ‘body work’.
Anna opened her eyes at the sound of Noelle’s voice and saw her standing at the end of the table. “Let the loser give you a few tips, OK my friend?” Ricky simply nodded. “Actually, I need you to…make sure she doesn’t get away to soon.” Noelle pointed to Anna’s lower legs. Ricky was still upset and frowning, but he shrugged his shoulders and clamped his strong hands over the well-toned and tanned extremities of the superstar.
“Wait a minute,” Anna responded. “You’ve already seen I’m not ticklish. It was a fair contest, a tie. It’s over now.” An edge of nervousness had crept into Anna’s tone. Ricky caught it and wondered what it meant.
“Oh no, Anna. The contest is between you and me. Ricky was just the warm-up. While he tickled, I watched for weakness…and I believe I found it. You can tickle me more later if you choose.”
“Whatever,” Anna sneered. She tried pulling her legs away from Ricky’s grasp but saw she was locked in tight.
“You see, Ricky,” Noelle began, “Anna did not feel tickled by what you did because you were in too much of a rush. You expected the laughter right away. But tickling doesn’t always work that way. Anna knew you would stop after a few seconds or a couple minutes at the most. She does have a certain amount of self-control, but I’m thinking she cannot keep it up once she finds out I won’t stop tickling until she’s laughing so hard it will hurt our ears. Also, I’m thinking that Anna Kournikova requires a lighter touch to get her going.”
Noelle then placed her fingertips on the bottoms of Anna’s bare feet. Ricky looked back at Anna’s face and saw the young Russian taking a few deep breaths and setting her mouth in a straight, serious line. Her eyes did not look happy. She coughed two or three times as if clearing her lungs of unwanted material that could be used to produce laughter.
Slowly, very slowly Noelle Sasson began to drag her short but sharp nails over the soft skin covering both of Anna’s soles. She started at Anna’s heels and proceeded gradually up through her arches, over the balls and up to the toes. As she dragged, Noelle also wriggled her fingers slightly, trying to maximize the tickly sensations. “So, Anna,” Noelle said brightly after 30 seconds. “How does this feel?”
“No problem,” the star said curtly. Her eyes were closed now and Ricky noticed that her breathing rate had increased.
Noelle went up and down Anna’s feet time after time. After two minutes, she started to tickle even more slowly and used different patterns like figure eights and criss-crosses.
“Are you sure there is no problem, dear Anna?” Noelle taunted. “Does this not really, really…tickle?”
Swallowing once or twice, the blonde bombshell announced, “I am quite comfortable. You may continue.” It seemed to Ricky that Anna was trying very hard to sound tough.
“Oh, I will continue, Anna,” Noelle sounded even tougher to Ricky. “As I said, I will keep going until I uncover just how sensitive and ticklish you are. I’ll never stop until you are laughing and giggling and chuckling. Do you understand, Anna? I’m not going to stop!”
For some reason, Anna opened her eyes and Ricky noticed an unexpected anxiety settling onto her expression. It was as if Anna had suddenly grasped the meaning of the English word, ‘never’ and the word had seized Anna’s imagination. Watching her, Ricky realized what he had to do—what he had to say. This was his chance to make the spoiled beauty beg, to get a big dose of revenge. Noelle would do the actual tickling—for now—but he would break Anna’s self-control because he understood her mind.
“That’s right, Anna,” he began. “Noelle will just keep working on your bare feet with those tingly little touches. Oh look—she’s going under your tender toes. And I think she will be staying there for a long, long time.”
Noelle smiled and nodded at Ricky as he spoke. Suddenly, craftily, she dug into Anna’s elegant, high arches and worked her fingertips back and forth with the tiniest, speediest movement she was capable of.
“Now I know you like to be in charge of things, Anna, but there’s nothing you can do about this…we’ve got you and you can’t get away!
Anna’s head started to roll slightly from side to side. Her eyes were pressed tightly shut.
“How does it feel, Anna?” Ricky asked, all innocence. “Remember, no matter what you do, the tickling will just keep coming. And, Anna, you know you really do deserve this—you’ve been pretty nasty to me lately, so we won’t give up. This is your therapy. We’ve got your feet!…we’re tickling your feet until you laugh…do I hear a giggle?”
“Ricky!” It was Noelle speaking. “She’s trying to cover one foot with the other! Is that cute or what?! I guess what I’m doing must sort of…tickle!”
A word slipped from Anna. “Stop.”
Ricky and Anna looked at each other, delighted. Ricky went first, “STOP?! Oh my…is something wrong, Anna? Stop what?”
Noelle was more direct. “No, my dear, I am not stopping…I will never stop…I will just TICKLE.”
“I said stop!” Anna said with a hint of menace as well as fear.
Noelle was studying Anna’s face as it twitched and struggled to master the sensations that were overloading the nerve-endings of her feet. “Ricky,” she said quickly. “I think that Anna does not like to hear us use words like tickle."
Anna emitted the quietest little groan when Noelle said this. She proceeded to scrape gently along the sides of Anna’s feet which were now wriggling in various directions.
“I think you’re right, Noelle—good call! Maybe you should say something else, just to be sure.”
Noelle was game. “You mean like this: tickle…tickle…koochy koo!” She started sing-songing it. “Anna’s feet look so ticklish! Koochy koo, Anna’s sweet little feet….”
Ricky watched as the corners of Anna’s mouth began to slowly curl upward and her teeth began to appear, white and perfect. Anna placed her hands on the sides of her head and seemed to be attempting to hold laughter at bay by brute, manual force. Her straight blonde hair was visibly shaking as her body began to crumble beneath all she was feeling at the other end of her body.
“Wait a minute, just a minute…guys,” Anna spoke very quietly, letting out little breath. But a moment or two later new sounds welled up within the room. They started softly and then grew. “Nooo, Nooo, Nooo. Hahaha hahaha hahaha waaaaiiiit WAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. STOOOOOOOOOOP! STOOOOOOOOOP PLEEEEAAAAAASE!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.”
Anna’s laughter mounted and now Ricky felt her really try to kick and break free of his grip. He had to bear down with all his weight to keep her in place. Finally, he pushed himself up onto the table and straddled her legs, facing Anna and observing her squirm. Noelle maintained her tickling pace.
“But Anna,” Ricky taunted, “you said you’re not ticklish. Did you…LIE to us?!” He put on a look of mock horror, but through Anna’s thrashing movements, Ricky doubted she saw that.
“Noooooooooo!! Stooop!! Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe Riiiiiickyyyyyy! AAAHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOSTOOOOOOOOP!! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I-I-I-Caaaaaa’nt!” Anna’s head bounced up and down off the blue massage pillow. Her hands dangled around her upper body, not knowing where to land. Ricky looked back at Anna’s feet and saw they were desperately scrambling all over to avoid Noelle’s gentle ministrations.
“Ricky, I think she is way loosened up by now. Go get it!!”
Before responding to Noelle’s call, Ricky continued to watch Anna laughing and wriggling beneath him. Her movements felt strangely provocative and sexy to him; the sound of her out-of-control voice was somehow affecting the feel and fit of the lower section of his clothing. This rich, famous, gorgeous girl was floundering around, completely helpless now against the small touches delivered by another girl’s fingertips to the smooth soles of her bare feet. Ricky couldn’t believe how unraveled Anna had become in the last two minutes. Noelle’s persistence certainly paid off. But now it was his turn.
After another moment of consideration, Ricky separated Anna’s bathrobe slightly. He saw, as predicted, the sports bra and tight shorts she wore. Ricky plunged his highly-trained fingers into Anna Kournikova’s ribcage at the same time as Noelle ceased tickling her feet. The masseur pushed into her skin, firmly but delicately, inching his way across ribs which carried not an ounce of fat. Anna reacted as if paramedics had shocked her with paddles designed for saving a failing heart. She bucked with the force of 10 women and at that instant Ricky was glad he weighed 205 pounds.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AAAAAIIIIIYYYYYYYYYYAYAYAYA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, PL-PL-PL-PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAASE HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.” Anna emitted a stream of high-pitched giggles that physically hurt Ricky’s ears. He winced a bit but continued his probing, getting nearer and nearer to the sides of Anna’s breasts, just an inch or two below her cleanly-shaved underarms. In this respect—feminine shaving—Anna was thoroughly American.
When he reached the spot alongside her impressive mammaries—on both the right and the left—Ricky’s strong fingers made tiny, repeating circles. Pressing into her tender flesh in unexpected rhythms, he was able to make Anna erupt into short, loud chortles and laughing-screams. “Anna…I think you’re ticklish,” Ricky taunted. “But even now you probably won’t admit it—that’s how stubborn and proud you can be! But maybe if I do…this!!”
The only born-American in the room launched an assault on the beautiful blonde’s armpits. Since her arms were not restrained, Ricky had to contend with Anna pressing them down desperately toward her sides. He dug his fingers in slowly, tickling as he went, so that Anna’s power to resist was at an absolute minimum. In seconds Ricky was teasing this rarely-touched area with quick, poking motions in a mixture of piano-playing and word-processing techniques.
“Aaaaarrrrrrgggh!!! STOOOOOOOOP!!!!! I ADMIIIIIIIIIT, ADMIIIIIIIIT, I-I-I-I AM TICKLISHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!! OHNOOHNOOHNOOHNOOHNO, MYGOOOOOOOOD!!!HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” As the Russian rolled her body from side to side and kicked her legs futilely in protest, Ricky heard Anna suddenly switch to her native language. In tones which sounded at turns both prayerful and cursing, Anna pleaded and laughed, giggled and screamed. Ricky understood not a word, but continued to search for moves that got the biggest, most energetic reactions from his employer.
Ricky was feeling that his ‘revenge’ was almost complete and that, at any rate, Anna couldn’t take much more of this. He started to wind down his tickling and Anna’s laughter dwindled gradually to quiet chucking; her struggling grew calmer and more controlled. However, moments later Ricky learned that Noelle was not quite finished with her Russian opponent.
“Ricky, there is something I want to try now,” Noelle began. “I used to do it sometimes to my big sister and it drove her crazy.”
“No, that’s it guys, you are done! Let me up, Ricky.” Anna had regained her voice and her embarrassment and anger could be heard clearly.
“In a minute, dear,” Noelle said, unfazed. “Just one more special little stroke.” The Frenchwoman was still raring to go. As Anna struggled slightly under Rick’s weight, Noelle plucked off her own tennis shoes followed immediately by her clean, white socks. All five feet three inches of her stood there barefoot and smiling. “Ricky, I need you to turn around and hold down her feet.”
“Really? Maybe we should give her a break.” Ricky felt a little guilty for what he had put Anna through. Noelle, however, did not.
“We will, we will…just do what I say now, Ricky.”
The big man easily flipped himself around, glanced up at Noelle for encouragement, and then placed his hands on Anna’s ankles. Anna was too worn out, it seemed, to put up much of a fight.
“You bitch!” Anna yelled weakly at her new nemesis.
Noelle pulled a chair over to the foot of the massage table and sat down. She slowly raised her legs into the air and lined her own feet up with Anna’s. Ricky looked over at them both, a bit puzzled.
As if to respond to his expression, Noelle explained, “Hold on, Ricky—my sister could take almost anything but the toe-tickling. It seems my toes have this strange power to tickle even better than my fingers. Maybe it is because toes seem so much sillier….”
“Toes?” Anna said nervously. “What do you mean?…What are you doing down there? You will stop or I’ll call….”
Anna’s sentence was interrupted when the small digits of Noelle’s feet began to scrape against the bottom of her soles. She was dragging her toenails up and down every inch of smooth, pink flesh she could make contact with. Ricky twisted his head around to watch Anna’s reaction. He was very curious by this point how this new sensation would affect the blonde heartthrob, if at all. He didn’t have long to wait.
For a few seconds Anna’s mouth just hung open soundlessly. Then she started to sputter. Ricky could actually see little droplets of spit fly toward him. Then her head shot back so far he could no longer see her face, but he heard Anna suck in an enormous gulp of air. Ricky cringed, sensing what would now come.
“BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOPSTOOOOOOPSTOOOOOOOOP!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!! WHOOOOOOOAAWHAAAAAAA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!.” Anna was screaming her laughter and her body began shaking from top to bottom. It was truly a challenge now for Ricky to keep her feet pinned.
Noelle started wriggling her toes near the soft base of Anna’s toes. The shorter woman appeared to have incredible toe-dexterity from what Ricky could make out. This stimulation greatly intensified Anna’s already desperate laughter. But Noelle would not let up. The Frenchwoman appeared to delight in exploring variations on how she could flex her toes and where exactly on Anna’s feet would induce the most forced hilarity. This went on for at least five minutes. God only knows, Ricky thought, how long it must have seemed to Anna. And through it all she was writhing, twisting, laughing and pounding her hands on the table—and frequently, on Ricky’s back.
“Anna?!” Noelle had to shout to be heard over Anna’s ticklishness. “I’ll stop now, if you promise not to make trouble for us and to be nicer and kinder to Ricky!”
A momentary pause in the hysteria and then, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YEEEEEEES!!! YEEEEEEEES!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, STOOOOOPMYYYYYYFEEEEET!! MYYYYYYYFEEEEEEEEEEET!!!! YEEEEEES! IIIIIIIIII NIIIIIIIICE, NIIIIIIIIIICE!! STOOOOOOOOPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Noelle beamed in victory and took her time before ending the feet-to-feet stroking. “Remember, if you try to hurt Ricky or me, I will have a wonderful story about this afternoon to share with the television people! I believe they would love to hear about the tennis beauty’s ticklish encounter.” Noelle put on her shoes and socks, blew a kiss to Ricky, and promptly left the room.
Looking at Anna, half passed-out and drenched in sweat, Ricky knew his boss had been broken. She had lost her precious sense of always being in control—even if only for a short while. Although he suspected that later Anna might resume some of her nasty ways, Ricky was also quite sure she could never look at him with that haughty, superior attitude. And if she did…well, he now had ways of turning her smirks into giggles.
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dig dug dog! This story was posted long before I became a member of the TMF, so I never read about Anna getting tickled. Great story, and she still sucks at tennis 
