laughter_n_love
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Diary of a Foot Tickling Addict, Journal Entry #1
Today has been a very strange day indeed. What was wrong with that crazy old man? And what about his shop girl? What came over her, and how lucky was I? Damn this tea is good. Does my new necklace have something to do with it? Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me get my story straight...
Today started out like most of them do. I knew where I'd be sleeping tonight, but not where I'd be sleeping next week after my lease ran out. I hadn't had any luck finding work in this city (Boston) since the local band I had been working for decided to break up. Setting up speakers and checking microphones wasn't exactly a career anyway. Anyhow, I'd spent the last few days knocking on doors and answering ads, but no one seemed to want to hire a drifter like me. I only had a few bucks left in my pocket, so even eating was going to be a challenge unless I found something soon. I was forced to look for work in unlikely places, and that's what brought me to Chinatown today.
I was too busy sightseeing to make any progress on my job hunt. Something about this city within the city that fascinated me. There were all sorts of shops and eateries with writings on the doors and windows that I couldn't read. People were hustling around me, while I sort of wandered aimlessly from street to street. I was looking for something I recognized. "Dishwasher", "Busboy", "Kitchen Help". Something that I could start at immediately and have a paycheck by the end of tonight. But no signs like that seemed to be available, or if they were, they were in Chinese.
It started to rain, and wearing a coat that didn't exactly repel water too well and carrying no umbrella, I ducked into a small shop of unknown purpose. A bell tinkled on the door upon my arrival. There was a smell I thought I recognized (jasmine I think) looming in the air, and the place was terribly cluttered. Rows of shelves dominated the small floor space, and there wasn't room to spare on any shelf. I wandered up the first aisle, and after looking over some of the merchandise, decided for myself that this was a store selling nothing but worthless junk. Colorful people would call them trinkets, but I call them junk. I remember my stomach growling from hunger right about then, and how little disposable income I had for such nonsense. Oh well, at least I was dry.
An ancient old man shuffled up from some back room and saw me in his store. He said something to me in some other language, Chinese I'm guessing, and I just shrugged at him in incomprehension. He squinted at me and eventually realized that I was not Chinese, and that I didn't speak his language. "You buy something?" he asked in broken English.
"Ummm...maybe," I lied, figuring if I stalled long enough, the rain might stop and I could leave. If I learned one thing about being in New England, it's that the weather can change in a hurry.
"Come, come," he motioned me over to a display case. Like the rest of the store, all I could see through the glass was crap that only a tourist would love. This was the kind of place where every 'piece' had a story behind it, and I was guessing that my old friend here was nothing more than a tall tale teller for suckers. I didn't know how right I was. Well, sorta...I might be right. Time will tell.
"Something you like?" he asked hopefully, standing a little too close for my comfort. He was a strange little man.
My eyes roamed over the merchandise like I was really searching, while what I was actually doing was listening to the sound of the rain outside to see if it had lessened. Then I spotted something that actually appealed to me. It was a small charm made of a dull brown metal, copper maybe. It certainly looked as cheap as the rest of the garbage in the store, but what made it catch my eye was its design. It was in the shape of a heart with some kind of sun burst like rays radiating outwards on its edges. A cheap leather strap served as a necklace for it. I had never seen anything like it, and I couldn't take my eyes off it.
The old man saw what I was staring at and smiled. "That is a powerful charm," he said in his broken English.
"Powerful, eh? How so?" My eyes were still glued to it.
"It gives the wearer whatever is deepest within his heart."
I stopped staring at the charm long enough to roll my eyes. Here was the magic potion pitch I was expecting. "So it will fulfill my wishes, eh? Does a genie come out of it or something?" I couldn't suppress the sarcasm in my voice.
The old man chuckled. "No no no. Just have to wear it. No wishes. This charm knows what you want. No need to wish."
I wasn't sold on the story, but I did like the charm. "How much old man?"
His smiled widened and his face became a mass of wrinkled flesh. "Four dollars."
I reached in my pockets and counted my stash. $11.78. This was a luxury I really couldn't afford, but for some reason, I had to have it. I counted off four one dollar bills and handed them to him. He was visibly excited about the sale and started to speak loudly in that same foreign language to what I guessed was a person or persons still in the back room. I certainly didn't know what the hell he was saying. I was lost in wondering if I had made a major mistake in buying a piece of junk when I could have bought lunch with that money.
A young Oriental girl of about 20 appeared from the back carrying a gift box. She was stunning. She had long straight jet black hair and gorgeous eyes, and she smiled beautifully when she saw me. While the old man played the part of ancient Chinese wizard type with the authentic clothes, this girl was dressed in a quite modern American style, from her form fitting top right down to her open toed sandals. My eyes lingered over her feet a little longer than they should, and that the part of my brain that my fetish controls suddenly awakened. The same question that always rose to my conscious returned, "I wonder if she is ticklish?" It was always a struggle not to ask that question out loud.
The old man was practically jumping up and down and yelling at her in a nonstop stream of gibberish, but she seemed to be paying him no attention. What a crazy old bugger. She was retrieving the necklace from the case and was about to put it in the gift box when I motioned with my hands for her not to. I was going to wear my new purchase right away.
The old man was really emphatic about getting something straight with her, and she finally snapped back at him in the same unknown tongue. Whatever she said halted the old man in his tracks, and he started fuming. Off to the back he stormed, once again shouting gibberish, although this time to no one in particular it seemed.
She handed me the necklace and I slipped it on. The charm felt cool against my skin, and the leather strap around my neck didn't chafe too much. "Thanks," I said to her, trying to focus on looking at her face and not at her toes covered in silver polish. "Is there a mirror that I can use?"
She smiled at me, and I suddenly realized that she understood no English. I could think of no hand signal for "I need a mirror", so I started looking for a one among all the junk at the store myself. And that's when things got weird.
The small charm around my neck started to grow warm, as if a heat were being given off by it. It startled me, and I thought about pulling it off. What sort of voodoo was this? Then I noticed the girl looking at me differently. Her eyes got all sparkly, and a big grin appeared on her face for no apparent reason. She whirled about and grabbed this whisk like object and handed it to me. Between the charm suddenly heating my collarbone and the strange object being handed to me, I was at a loss for words. But nothing was at unreal as what happened next.
The girl hopped up onto the display case and rolled onto her tummy. She swung her legs around until she lay flat along the long axis of the case, with just her feet hanging out over the end. Then she let her sandals drop to the hard wooden floor below with a loud clatter. In the back, the old man stopped talking to himself for a moment, paused, and then continued as if what he heard was of no importance. The girl giggled and looked at me with a devilish gleam in her eyes. She kicked her legs a little to make sure I saw her bare feet, as if that was necessary.
I couldn't believe my eyes. This couldn't be happening. I know what I thought she was expecting, but that certainly couldn't truly be the case. I stood still, feeling awkward with the whisk object in my hands and this Chinese cutie laying on the counter. Seeing my hesitance, she bent her legs at the knee and reached back with her own dagger like fingernails to mock tickle at her own soles. Then she giggled into her hands and put her feet back over the edge of the display case. Her eyes were positively glowing at me!
It was true. I hadn't been wrong. She wanted me to tickle her feet! A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind. I should be looking for a job. Had a foot tickling addict like me ever had such a lucky break? I'm finally going to get answer to the question that haunts me every time I see a pair of pretty bare feet. Would the crazy old man in the back hear us? What if someone walked in the store? I bet this whisk thing will be torture on her soles. Does my warm charm have anything to do with this? Is it still raining out?
I slowly made my way over the end of the counter to where here naked feet hung out into space. Her soles looked creamy soft, and she had curved toes that lined up nicely by length. A toe ring adorned one toe, and an anklet adored one ankle. Gorgeous feet. Feet to die for. Her head turned to follow me as a approached, and she alternately scrunched her soles and wiggled her toes to give me a full look. I was enraptured by the sight. He feet were to die for, perfect in every regard. Satisfied that I finally had the idea, she turned back to face forward and left her feet in my charge. This was the moment every foot tickling fetishist in the world like me dreams about.
I dragged the whisk slowly down both her soles, from heel to toe. It was wide enough that the hard, brush like bristles covered the width of both her narrow feet. She let out a yelp of delicious surprise and quickly covered her mouth with both hands. Again the crazy old man paused in his rambling, and again he continued talking to no one but himself in the back. The girl giggled wonderfully into her hands, and kicked her ankles slightly for me to continue. Thank you God!
Growing in confidence, I again dragged the whisk down her heavenly soles. She giggled musical girlish giggles into her hands, trying desperately to muffle the sound as much as she could. Her little feet jumped at the touch, but she quickly settled them back where I could tickle them. I admired her trying to hold still despite the fact that the bristles obviously tickled like hell. I could see her tensing up for the next tickle even as she continued to giggle into her hands.
Seeing that this was already a fantasy come true, I figured I would see how far I could take it. I wrapped my free arm around her ankles and held them tightly together and against the top of the case. There was no protest on her part. I then applied the stiff whisk liberally to her now trapped and defenseless soles. She exploded in ticklish agony. Her slender body bounced happily up and down on the display case, and I momentarily wondered if would continue to support her weight. A stream of giggles poured forth from her, only punctuated long enough for her to draw another breath, "Eeeek!", and giggle some more. It sounded something like this:
"Eeeeeeek! Heeeeeheeeeheeeheee!"...(draw breath)..."Eeeeeeek! Heeeeeheeeeheeeheee!"
I was in tickle torturer heaven. The whisk was leaving red lines on the perfect white soles of her feet. Her toes flexed and scrunched uselessly, unable to avoid the tickly sensations. Her tiny body struggled to escape my headlock hold on her ankles, but there was no chance of my letting her go. Her feet were mine to play with, and play with them I did. As awful as I knew the whisk to be as an instrument of torture, I just had to feel those soft feet for myself. Why should a whisk get all the fun? I dropped the object and went to work on her soles with my short fingernails. They danced up and down the expanse of her sensitive soles, and her reaction was everything I hoped it would be. Unlike the mindless bristles, my fingers struck quickly and unpredictably. Her girlish giggling never stopped, but the pattern changed. I was getting many more "Eeeeks!" than before, and she was no longer able to draw breaths at regular intervals. I deduced this was a more wicked form of torture to her. Her efforts to escape became more intense, but still I was able to hang onto her. My nails skated along her soles, explored between her toes, and spider walked over every inch of those delicious ticklish feet. To her credit, she never pulled her hands away from her mouth. As awful as the torment must have been, she continued to try to hold her giggles in with her tiny clenched hands. She never told me to stop, in any language.
I'm not sure that I ever would have even is she had. Fate intervened though. The bell on the door to the shop tinkled, and I quickly released her ankles. In a flash she was back on her feet, shoes back on, clothes being smoothed out. Damn was she cute! I was handing the whisk object back to her just as the old man came out of the back to wait on the new customers. Still trying to recover her breath, she grinned broadly at me and pressed the object back into my hands, a gift from her. I nodded in a thank you and started to head towards the door. The whole thing had been so surreal that I needed to escape to collect my thoughts.
I looked back as I reached the doorway. She was watching me with her eyes still glowing and the biggest smile on her face, as if I had done her the favor. The charm around my neck suddenly stopped feeling warm against my skin, and at the same time, I thought I saw the glow begin to fade from her eyes. A look of confusion started to wash over her, and I that's when I decided that it would be best for me to not be around when she started asking questions. I'd be damned if I had any answers anyway.
It was still raining out, but that didn't matter so much anymore. I had a lot to think about, and I wanted to get this on paper while it was still fresh in my mind. What happened in there? Could the old man have been right? Did the charm know my inner most desires and give them to me? Is that what happened?
So that brings me to the present. I'm sitting here in a Chinese cafe' of some kind, sipping on tea and trying to cut the chill that the rain left me with. There is a man sitting across from me that keeps staring at the whisk thing on the table, so I'm about to ask him about it. I'll write more later.
End of Journal Entry #1
Today has been a very strange day indeed. What was wrong with that crazy old man? And what about his shop girl? What came over her, and how lucky was I? Damn this tea is good. Does my new necklace have something to do with it? Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me get my story straight...
Today started out like most of them do. I knew where I'd be sleeping tonight, but not where I'd be sleeping next week after my lease ran out. I hadn't had any luck finding work in this city (Boston) since the local band I had been working for decided to break up. Setting up speakers and checking microphones wasn't exactly a career anyway. Anyhow, I'd spent the last few days knocking on doors and answering ads, but no one seemed to want to hire a drifter like me. I only had a few bucks left in my pocket, so even eating was going to be a challenge unless I found something soon. I was forced to look for work in unlikely places, and that's what brought me to Chinatown today.
I was too busy sightseeing to make any progress on my job hunt. Something about this city within the city that fascinated me. There were all sorts of shops and eateries with writings on the doors and windows that I couldn't read. People were hustling around me, while I sort of wandered aimlessly from street to street. I was looking for something I recognized. "Dishwasher", "Busboy", "Kitchen Help". Something that I could start at immediately and have a paycheck by the end of tonight. But no signs like that seemed to be available, or if they were, they were in Chinese.
It started to rain, and wearing a coat that didn't exactly repel water too well and carrying no umbrella, I ducked into a small shop of unknown purpose. A bell tinkled on the door upon my arrival. There was a smell I thought I recognized (jasmine I think) looming in the air, and the place was terribly cluttered. Rows of shelves dominated the small floor space, and there wasn't room to spare on any shelf. I wandered up the first aisle, and after looking over some of the merchandise, decided for myself that this was a store selling nothing but worthless junk. Colorful people would call them trinkets, but I call them junk. I remember my stomach growling from hunger right about then, and how little disposable income I had for such nonsense. Oh well, at least I was dry.
An ancient old man shuffled up from some back room and saw me in his store. He said something to me in some other language, Chinese I'm guessing, and I just shrugged at him in incomprehension. He squinted at me and eventually realized that I was not Chinese, and that I didn't speak his language. "You buy something?" he asked in broken English.
"Ummm...maybe," I lied, figuring if I stalled long enough, the rain might stop and I could leave. If I learned one thing about being in New England, it's that the weather can change in a hurry.
"Come, come," he motioned me over to a display case. Like the rest of the store, all I could see through the glass was crap that only a tourist would love. This was the kind of place where every 'piece' had a story behind it, and I was guessing that my old friend here was nothing more than a tall tale teller for suckers. I didn't know how right I was. Well, sorta...I might be right. Time will tell.
"Something you like?" he asked hopefully, standing a little too close for my comfort. He was a strange little man.
My eyes roamed over the merchandise like I was really searching, while what I was actually doing was listening to the sound of the rain outside to see if it had lessened. Then I spotted something that actually appealed to me. It was a small charm made of a dull brown metal, copper maybe. It certainly looked as cheap as the rest of the garbage in the store, but what made it catch my eye was its design. It was in the shape of a heart with some kind of sun burst like rays radiating outwards on its edges. A cheap leather strap served as a necklace for it. I had never seen anything like it, and I couldn't take my eyes off it.
The old man saw what I was staring at and smiled. "That is a powerful charm," he said in his broken English.
"Powerful, eh? How so?" My eyes were still glued to it.
"It gives the wearer whatever is deepest within his heart."
I stopped staring at the charm long enough to roll my eyes. Here was the magic potion pitch I was expecting. "So it will fulfill my wishes, eh? Does a genie come out of it or something?" I couldn't suppress the sarcasm in my voice.
The old man chuckled. "No no no. Just have to wear it. No wishes. This charm knows what you want. No need to wish."
I wasn't sold on the story, but I did like the charm. "How much old man?"
His smiled widened and his face became a mass of wrinkled flesh. "Four dollars."
I reached in my pockets and counted my stash. $11.78. This was a luxury I really couldn't afford, but for some reason, I had to have it. I counted off four one dollar bills and handed them to him. He was visibly excited about the sale and started to speak loudly in that same foreign language to what I guessed was a person or persons still in the back room. I certainly didn't know what the hell he was saying. I was lost in wondering if I had made a major mistake in buying a piece of junk when I could have bought lunch with that money.
A young Oriental girl of about 20 appeared from the back carrying a gift box. She was stunning. She had long straight jet black hair and gorgeous eyes, and she smiled beautifully when she saw me. While the old man played the part of ancient Chinese wizard type with the authentic clothes, this girl was dressed in a quite modern American style, from her form fitting top right down to her open toed sandals. My eyes lingered over her feet a little longer than they should, and that the part of my brain that my fetish controls suddenly awakened. The same question that always rose to my conscious returned, "I wonder if she is ticklish?" It was always a struggle not to ask that question out loud.
The old man was practically jumping up and down and yelling at her in a nonstop stream of gibberish, but she seemed to be paying him no attention. What a crazy old bugger. She was retrieving the necklace from the case and was about to put it in the gift box when I motioned with my hands for her not to. I was going to wear my new purchase right away.
The old man was really emphatic about getting something straight with her, and she finally snapped back at him in the same unknown tongue. Whatever she said halted the old man in his tracks, and he started fuming. Off to the back he stormed, once again shouting gibberish, although this time to no one in particular it seemed.
She handed me the necklace and I slipped it on. The charm felt cool against my skin, and the leather strap around my neck didn't chafe too much. "Thanks," I said to her, trying to focus on looking at her face and not at her toes covered in silver polish. "Is there a mirror that I can use?"
She smiled at me, and I suddenly realized that she understood no English. I could think of no hand signal for "I need a mirror", so I started looking for a one among all the junk at the store myself. And that's when things got weird.
The small charm around my neck started to grow warm, as if a heat were being given off by it. It startled me, and I thought about pulling it off. What sort of voodoo was this? Then I noticed the girl looking at me differently. Her eyes got all sparkly, and a big grin appeared on her face for no apparent reason. She whirled about and grabbed this whisk like object and handed it to me. Between the charm suddenly heating my collarbone and the strange object being handed to me, I was at a loss for words. But nothing was at unreal as what happened next.
The girl hopped up onto the display case and rolled onto her tummy. She swung her legs around until she lay flat along the long axis of the case, with just her feet hanging out over the end. Then she let her sandals drop to the hard wooden floor below with a loud clatter. In the back, the old man stopped talking to himself for a moment, paused, and then continued as if what he heard was of no importance. The girl giggled and looked at me with a devilish gleam in her eyes. She kicked her legs a little to make sure I saw her bare feet, as if that was necessary.
I couldn't believe my eyes. This couldn't be happening. I know what I thought she was expecting, but that certainly couldn't truly be the case. I stood still, feeling awkward with the whisk object in my hands and this Chinese cutie laying on the counter. Seeing my hesitance, she bent her legs at the knee and reached back with her own dagger like fingernails to mock tickle at her own soles. Then she giggled into her hands and put her feet back over the edge of the display case. Her eyes were positively glowing at me!
It was true. I hadn't been wrong. She wanted me to tickle her feet! A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind. I should be looking for a job. Had a foot tickling addict like me ever had such a lucky break? I'm finally going to get answer to the question that haunts me every time I see a pair of pretty bare feet. Would the crazy old man in the back hear us? What if someone walked in the store? I bet this whisk thing will be torture on her soles. Does my warm charm have anything to do with this? Is it still raining out?
I slowly made my way over the end of the counter to where here naked feet hung out into space. Her soles looked creamy soft, and she had curved toes that lined up nicely by length. A toe ring adorned one toe, and an anklet adored one ankle. Gorgeous feet. Feet to die for. Her head turned to follow me as a approached, and she alternately scrunched her soles and wiggled her toes to give me a full look. I was enraptured by the sight. He feet were to die for, perfect in every regard. Satisfied that I finally had the idea, she turned back to face forward and left her feet in my charge. This was the moment every foot tickling fetishist in the world like me dreams about.
I dragged the whisk slowly down both her soles, from heel to toe. It was wide enough that the hard, brush like bristles covered the width of both her narrow feet. She let out a yelp of delicious surprise and quickly covered her mouth with both hands. Again the crazy old man paused in his rambling, and again he continued talking to no one but himself in the back. The girl giggled wonderfully into her hands, and kicked her ankles slightly for me to continue. Thank you God!
Growing in confidence, I again dragged the whisk down her heavenly soles. She giggled musical girlish giggles into her hands, trying desperately to muffle the sound as much as she could. Her little feet jumped at the touch, but she quickly settled them back where I could tickle them. I admired her trying to hold still despite the fact that the bristles obviously tickled like hell. I could see her tensing up for the next tickle even as she continued to giggle into her hands.
Seeing that this was already a fantasy come true, I figured I would see how far I could take it. I wrapped my free arm around her ankles and held them tightly together and against the top of the case. There was no protest on her part. I then applied the stiff whisk liberally to her now trapped and defenseless soles. She exploded in ticklish agony. Her slender body bounced happily up and down on the display case, and I momentarily wondered if would continue to support her weight. A stream of giggles poured forth from her, only punctuated long enough for her to draw another breath, "Eeeek!", and giggle some more. It sounded something like this:
"Eeeeeeek! Heeeeeheeeeheeeheee!"...(draw breath)..."Eeeeeeek! Heeeeeheeeeheeeheee!"
I was in tickle torturer heaven. The whisk was leaving red lines on the perfect white soles of her feet. Her toes flexed and scrunched uselessly, unable to avoid the tickly sensations. Her tiny body struggled to escape my headlock hold on her ankles, but there was no chance of my letting her go. Her feet were mine to play with, and play with them I did. As awful as I knew the whisk to be as an instrument of torture, I just had to feel those soft feet for myself. Why should a whisk get all the fun? I dropped the object and went to work on her soles with my short fingernails. They danced up and down the expanse of her sensitive soles, and her reaction was everything I hoped it would be. Unlike the mindless bristles, my fingers struck quickly and unpredictably. Her girlish giggling never stopped, but the pattern changed. I was getting many more "Eeeeks!" than before, and she was no longer able to draw breaths at regular intervals. I deduced this was a more wicked form of torture to her. Her efforts to escape became more intense, but still I was able to hang onto her. My nails skated along her soles, explored between her toes, and spider walked over every inch of those delicious ticklish feet. To her credit, she never pulled her hands away from her mouth. As awful as the torment must have been, she continued to try to hold her giggles in with her tiny clenched hands. She never told me to stop, in any language.
I'm not sure that I ever would have even is she had. Fate intervened though. The bell on the door to the shop tinkled, and I quickly released her ankles. In a flash she was back on her feet, shoes back on, clothes being smoothed out. Damn was she cute! I was handing the whisk object back to her just as the old man came out of the back to wait on the new customers. Still trying to recover her breath, she grinned broadly at me and pressed the object back into my hands, a gift from her. I nodded in a thank you and started to head towards the door. The whole thing had been so surreal that I needed to escape to collect my thoughts.
I looked back as I reached the doorway. She was watching me with her eyes still glowing and the biggest smile on her face, as if I had done her the favor. The charm around my neck suddenly stopped feeling warm against my skin, and at the same time, I thought I saw the glow begin to fade from her eyes. A look of confusion started to wash over her, and I that's when I decided that it would be best for me to not be around when she started asking questions. I'd be damned if I had any answers anyway.
It was still raining out, but that didn't matter so much anymore. I had a lot to think about, and I wanted to get this on paper while it was still fresh in my mind. What happened in there? Could the old man have been right? Did the charm know my inner most desires and give them to me? Is that what happened?
So that brings me to the present. I'm sitting here in a Chinese cafe' of some kind, sipping on tea and trying to cut the chill that the rain left me with. There is a man sitting across from me that keeps staring at the whisk thing on the table, so I'm about to ask him about it. I'll write more later.
End of Journal Entry #1
