Tickle Street Chapter 35 – “Metamorphosis”

By Strelnikov
Copyright 2005 by the author


Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)

Julie Budanov
Julie has just turned 18 – she’ll be a senior at Tieson City High School this fall. She’s slender with long, bright coppery red hair, high cheekbones, exotic eyes inherited from a distant Tatar ancestor, skin so fair that it almost seems translucent, and the most ticklish feet in the neighborhood. Her eyes are that indeterminate color that sometimes appears blue or gray, sometimes green or hazel. She’s left-handed. Russian folklore associates her physical type with witchcraft and malign spirits. Her sisters are a little afraid of her, and even her parents are sometimes uneasy over this strange chick in their nest.

Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18, almost 19, and has lived on Tickle Street all her life. She has long dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She has a bit of an attitude, but her family and friends learned long ago that they can tickle it right out of her – which they do, at every opportunity.

Alex Budanov
Alex is 20 yrs old. She still thinks of herself as Aleksandra Budanova – she was 15 yrs old when her family left Russia to come to America. She has just finished her Freshman year at Commonwealth University in New England. Long, silvery blonde hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin with a fit body and buxom figure. She thinks it’s fun to be tickled – it gives her an excuse to retaliate.

Candice Wade
A little beauty, 18 years old, with crystal blue eyes and ash blonde hair, and a very trim and shapely body. An extrovert and sensualist, she loves to be tickled and get in ticklish situations, but if the tickling goes too far, she's out of control. Her lust to be tickled has grown and grown over the past year, and now she'll do anything to get tickled. She's lived with her parents and sister on Tickle Street since she was five.

Sara Rosen
Sara is a 19 yr old adrenaline junkie, a risk-taker, game for anything. She’s built like Dolly Parton, a small girl with a slender waist and amazing upper body development. She has long dark brown hair, beautiful green eyes, a deep tan, and a fit, toned body. Her ticklishness is her greatest weakness. She’s an enthusiastic tickler, on the principle that it’s more blessed to give than to receive.

Amanda Mason
Amanda is a little cutie, just turned 18 years old, a petite girl with a trim and shapely figure. She stands an inch or so over 5 ft tall in her bare feet. She has curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, dark brows and long, dark lashes. She’s new to Tieson City, and will start at Tieson City High School as a Senior in the fall. She’s impossible not to like, but she has this one odd quirk...

Kelly McGuire
Kelly has just turned 18 – she’s another upcoming Senior at Tieson City High School. She’s tall, drop-dead gorgeous, with long coppery red hair, a beautiful face, and that perfect skin only redheads have. Her eyes are deep blue, almost indigo. She’s horribly ticklish, and great fun to tickle.

Stephanie Miklajcyk
Stephanie is 18. She’s as beautiful as her friend and TCHS classmate Kelly– tall, Rubenesque, with flawless fair skin, long , silky light brown hair, green eyes, an hourglass figure and long, shapely legs. She’s insanely ticklish, and regards that as her greatest weakness.

Emily MacDonald
Emily is a fiery red-head, a petite girl with wavy shoulder-length hair and bright green eyes. The fact that she survived a major car wreck was near-miraculous. She’s a little older than her high school classmates – she missed a year of school after the wreck. She and her widowed father moved to Tickle Street last year. She’s super-ticklish, and that’s her greatest weakness, she thinks it makes her too girly and weak.

Meghan Meyer
The tiniest girl on Tickle Street, just turned 19 yrs old, with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes and freckled fair skin. She stands 4 ft 11 in tall in her bare feet and weighs 87 lb soaking wet. Until she turned 18, she never knew that she had a nack for tickling. But over the past year, she became an enthusiast. For Meghan, Tickle Street is a target-rich environment, with plenty of opportunities to hone her skill.

Rachel Griffin
Rachel is 25 years old. She has shoulder-length fiery red hair, a crooked grin, fair skin and a fit and shapely body. Her eyes are jade green. She’s originally from Georgia, but settled in Tieson City after sharing an adventure with Kelly and her friends. She’s smart and tough, but tickle her and she’s helpless.

Sadistic Siblings…
Jenny Budanov (Evgenia Budanova) is 16, blonde and blue eyed like Alex. Katie Budanov (Ekaterina Budanova, Katya to her family) is the youngest at age 13 – she’ll look like Alex and Jenny when she fills out a little more. Michael Gabreski is 18 yrs old, a foot taller and outweighs his older sister Melissa by 100 lbs – “big sister/little brother” is a family joke. He played high school football. The neighborhood girls know better than to let him get in tickle range of their feet, but sometimes... well, shit happens.


********************


Julie Budanov laid her book aside, stood up and stretched. She had been reading a lot of old science fiction lately. Poul Anderson’s The Night Face, Daniel Keyes’s Flowers for Algernon, Heinlein’s Podkayne of Mars – the reissue with the original ending. This book was Anderson again, a collection of novellas.

Julie was new to Tieson City – her family had moved from Brighton Beach, New York City’s Russian immigrant neighborhood, at the beginning of summer. She was 18, slender, with long, bright coppery red hair. She had high cheekbones, exotic eyes inherited from some distant Tatar ancestor, and skin so fair that it seemed almost translucent. Her eyes were that indeterminate shade that take their color from their surroundings. She wore heavy dark eyeliner, Goth-black lipstick and nail polish, a loose black t-shirt, baggy black cargo pants gathered at the ankles, and black Birkenstock slides without socks.

She went outside onto the screened-in back porch. Her younger sisters Katie and Jenny were on the porch already. Jenny was 16 – Katie was 13, and just starting to fill out. They wore t-shirts and shorts – they hadn’t bothered with shoes. The three had the house to themselves – older sister Alex was at her job at Squander Mall, and their parents had gone out for the afternoon.

The summer Sunday afternoon was pleasant, sunny and warm, the opposite of her mood. She wasn’t depressed – not really – but she wasn’t exactly cheerful either.

Julie sighed. Her older sister was a Slavic beauty with long, silvery blonde hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin, a fit body and a buxom figure. Her younger sisters were shaping up that way too. Julie was the odd one – the Russian fairy tales her mother had read to her when she was little associated her physical type with witchcraft and malign spirits. The Goth look had seemed like a reasonable choice a few years back. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Moping around again, sis?” Katie said.

“It’s those gloomy books she’s been reading,” Jenny said. “She looks like she could use a few laughs.”

“Let’s tickle her,” Katie said. “Come on Jenny, – let’s do it.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Julie said sharply. “I’m not in the mood.”

“We better not,” Jenny said regretfully. “Mom said to cool it with the tickle fights. Let’s save it for some other time.”

“Oughta tickle you,” Katie grumbled. But it wasn’t as if Julie was going to get away tickle-free. Tickling was a family tradition in the Budanov family. They would have other opportunities to tickle her – or make some.

Julie wasn’t really in the mood for companionship either. She went back inside and picked up her book, then walked to the back of the lot and into the woods to the north.

The wooded area was about a mile square. The area was hilly, rocky, heavily overgrown with second growth forest. Owl Creek entered it from the south near the end of the street before turning northeast between steep banks. Julie came to a trail a few yards in and followed it eastward toward the creek. The trail forked just short of the creek, and she turned left, paralleling the creek. The creekside trail forked again, and again Julie took the left fork.

This trail opened out into a clearing a little bigger than a football field, carpeted with summer grass and bright with wildflowers. At one end was an area of tumbled stones and a single feral rose bush in full bloom. Her neighbor Brittany Righetti had told her that there had been a cabin here a long time ago – the stones were the remains of the fireplace and chimney.

Julie’s skin was so fair that she didn’t even freckle – she just burned. She found a shady spot on the edge of the clearing and sat down to read.

The novella ended as it began: “Luckily, Diaz was facing the other way when the missile exploded.” Anderson’s “Kings Who Die” could be read on several levels. The story was really about a victory, but the first impression it left was of another tragedy.

Julie closed her book and laid it aside. She leaned back against a tree trunk and closed her eyes. Maybe I should read a Russian novel next. Something cheerful, like Anna Karenina. She snorted and shook her head. What was bothering her so? Was it the books? Or were the books she chose just a symptom of her malaise?

She must have dozed. She came to with a start, with a hand resting on her shoulder.

“Are you OK, Julie?” Michael Gabreski asked. He was squatting next to her, a look of concern on his face. Michael was another neighbor – he lived down the street. He had graduated from high school at the start of summer. He was a big guy who had had played football – he had hazel eyes and brown hair with a few lighter streaks, like his older sister Melissa.

“I’m fine, Michael,” Julie said. She yawned and stretched. “I nodded off, that’s all. Where’s Anne?”

“Working – I’ll see her later,” he said. He sat down beside her. “You look like your dog died and you just lost your last friend,” he observed.

“That’s what my sisters tell me,” Julie said glumly.

“What is it about you Goths?” Michael asked. “Cheer up. Life is good.”

“I don’t feel much like smiling.”

“Bet I can make you laugh,” he said.

Oops! Julie knew all about Michael’s “hobby”. Michael was a notorious foot tickler – he had been tickling his older sister ever since he got big enough to get away with it. He had tickled all of the other young female residents of Tickle Street too. They all liked him, and didn’t really mind so long as he didn’t do it too often.

But not now... She edged away, got her legs under her...

He was pretty fast for a big guy. He grabbed both of her ankles in one big hand, stood up and flipped off her shoes. Suddenly Julie was on her back, feet up, with gravity working against her.

Michael flicked his nails on Julie’s heels – Julie burst into helpless laughter. She had the most ticklish feet in the neighborhood, so everything he did drove her wild.

Michael tickled up Julie’s arches to the soles, watching her toes twitch and curl. Julie laughed like a madwoman, tears of laughter running down her face. He scrabbled his nails across both soles, side to side, over and over. Then two fingernails, drawing circles around and onto the balls of both feet while she howled with forced mirth. Michael tickled the balls of both feet at once, and Julie laughed at the top of her lungs.

Julie laughed helplessly as Michael tickled down her arches. He spider walked his nails onto her heels, drawing figure-eight’s and other tickling shapes, until Julie thought she would go mad. He tickled back onto the arches, flicking and scratching, then back to the ticklish heels again. Julie went crazy, bucking and squirming, laughing her head off. Her laughter went off the charts – she lost it and laughed herself breathless.

“Told you I could make you laugh,” Michael said. “Feel better now?”

“I’m... fine,” Julie gasped. “That tickled... so much...”

“It was supposed to,” Michael said. He released her ankles, gave her a hand up and grinned. “It’s a special treat to make Goth chicks laugh. We’ll have to do this again. Want me to walk you home?”

“I’ll find my own way.”

He handed her the book. “Suit yourself. Later!” He left, walking north.

I should be pissed off at him, she thought, but he’s such a nice guy. Too bad he’s dating Anne Kincaid. Reality check: Anne’s beautiful. Not like me. What would he want with a skinny ugly duckling Goth chick like me?

The house was closed up when Julie got home – apparently, Jenny and Katie had gone off someplace. She was just unlocking the door when a voice called out.

“Hi, Julie! Want some company?”

Julie looked around. Brittany Righetti, her next-door neighbor, was standing by the fence that separated their back yards. Brittany was relentlessly cheerful and upbeat. Maybe...

“Sure, come on over,” Julie called back.

Brittany had long dark hair, dark brows and lashes and brown eyes. She had a life guard tan, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She was barefoot, wearing khaki cargo shorts and a thrift-store t-shirt with Oshkosh Fly-In 1995 and a World War II P-51 fighter on it.

“Home alone?” Brittany asked.

“Yah, Alex is at work, and everybody else went off somewhere,” Julie answered. “You?”

“Me too,” Brittany said. “I don’t have to work today, but Vicky and Veronica do. Mom and Dad are away for the weekend.”

They decided on a game of chess. They moved the coffee table, set the chess board up on it and sat cross-legged. Brittany wasn’t really in Julie’s class – she was at best a wood-pusher – but she won the first game handily. Julie did no better in the second game – she was finding it hard to concentrate.

They took a break after the second game. When Julie went to set the board up again, Brittany stopped her.

“What’s the matter, Julie?” Brittany asked.

“Is it that obvious? Sorry, Brittany, but I’m feeling a little disconnected today,” Julie answered. “I’m not really happy with who I am, but I’m not sure what to do about it,” she said, frustrated. “I think I need a makeover.”

“Are you interested in...” Brittany started.

“Changing my image?” Julie completed the thought. “Yah, I think I’ve outgrown being a Goth. Too gloomy. This is a new town, it’s time to start fresh.”

“Good idea,” Brittany said. “The Goth look doesen’t really suit someone as pretty as you.”

Pretty? Julie had never thought of herself that way.

“Are you sure you want a makeover?” Brittany continued.

Julie took a deep breath. “Yah, I do.”

“OK then, lead the way.”

Julie led Brittany upstairs to the room she shared with Alex. It was pretty obvious which side of the room was hers. Alex’s bed had a colorful spread, and her dresser top held the usual girlish clutter. Julie’s spread was plain, and she went in for heavy metal posters and such.

“We’ll work on your attitude first,” Brittany said. She yanked a poster down off the wall. “Starting with this stuff.”

“Hey!” Julie protested.

Another poster bit the dust. “Nope, it’s all got to go,” Brittany said. “Hey, what’s this?”

It was a shadow box frame, maybe 12” x 24”. It held an old black-and-white photograph, offset to the right side. The space on the left was flanked by a pair of faded cloth epaulets cut off some sort of uniform, olive green piped in dark red. Between the epaulets was an enameled red star with a gold hammer-and-sickle in the center. Below that, on the left, was a red-and-gold enameled pin, a banner shape with cyrillic lettering on it. There were four medals to the right of the pin – a star-shaped one suspended from a red ribbon, the others round with multi-colored ribbons.

“Look closely at picture,” Julie answered.

Brittany did so. It showed a group of young women in baggy uniforms, with some sort of ruined building behind. All of them had stars on their caps and banner-pins above their right tunic pockets. The woman in the center – a girl, really – held a long rifle with a scope sight, slanted downward across her body. The star-shaped medal and one of the others were above her left tunic pocket.

“The one in the middle looks just like you,” Brittany said, surprised.

“Baba Irina,” Julie said. “Irina Budanova. My grandmother. Only one who ever treated me...” She brushed away a tear, then went on. “She was sniper at Stalingrad, in Great Patriotic War. Building is Red October Tractor Factory. Pin with banner is Guards badge. This medal is Hero of Soviet Union. Others are Order of Lenin, and Defense of Stalingrad and Victory Over Germany Medals.” She was speaking English but thinking in Russian. Russian doesen’t use articles – “a”, “an”, “the” and so forth. Julie’s had dropped away – her English was as Russian-accented as her older sister’s.

“Wow! Is she still alive?” Brittany asked.

“She died year after we came to America,” Julie said. “I was 14.”

“Oh... I’m sorry for your loss,” Brittany said. “She sounds like quite a woman.”

“Grandmother was never gloomy,” Julie said. The Russian accent had disappeared. “It’s time I moved on. And I’m tired of the posters.”

It didn’t take long for Brittany to finish. Julie sat on her own bed, holding the shadow box, still fully dressed in Goth black down to her shoes.

Brittany gently took the shadow box out of Julie’s hands and propped it up on her dresser. “We’ll re-hang this later,” she said. “Let me see your hands.”

Julie held them out. The nails were long, well-manicured, painted black.

Brittany reached down, grabbed an ankle and took hold of the shoe. Julie clinched her toes out of habit – in this house, that was usually the start of a tickle attack, and she was by far the most ticklish of the Budanov girls. But she uncurled the toes, and Brittany slipped the shoe off. Black toenails too, but the foot was pretty and well-kept.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Brittany said. “We’ll start here. Ditch the other shoe, Julie. Then scrub all that makeup off. Where’s your polish remover? We’ll start on your nails.”

Fingernails and toenails were silvery blue when Brittany finished. Julie looked them over carefully – they weren’t quite dry. It was a small change, but already she felt a little different about herself.

“OK, we’ll do the makeup next,” Brittany said. “Park it in that chair.”

After Brittany finished, Julie checked herself out in her dresser mirror. “How d’you think I look?” she asked.

Brittany looked her over. “It’s a start,” she said. “Now let’s see...” She looked through the closet. “Just as I thought – your clothes are all black. Maybe some of Alex’s?” Brittany said, thinking out loud. “No, Alex has broad hips and big boobs. Her clothes would fit you like socks on a rooster. Well, we’ve made a start. Feel any different?”

Julie considered. “I’m... not sure,” she answered. “I look different. Maybe that will...”

Footsteps on the stairs, and Alex came in, dressed in her Fourbucks Coffee work uniform.

“Hello, Brittany,” Alex said. Her English was fluent but accented – she had been 15 yrs old when the family came to America. She sat on her bed and pulled off her shoes and socks. “Feels good,” she said. She looked up at Julie, then looked again.

“Let me see your hands,” Alex said. “When did you change nail polish?”

“Brittany did that,” Julie said. She put a bare foot up on Alex’s knee. “Toenails too – see? Do you like it?”

Barefoot – that was another change. Julie usually wore shoes at all times, took them off only to bathe or sleep, to protect herself from her sibs. But somehow the black Birkenstocks weren’t right any more, and anyway, she didn’t want to smudge her new nail polish.

“Better than black,” Alex said. “Are you...”

“Tired of being a Goth?” Julie completed the thought. “Yah, it’s time for a change.”

“Take it slow,” Brittany advised. “Like I said, we’ve made a start. Get used to it first – a new wardrobe can wait.” She checked her watch. “Oops! Gotta go! See ya later!”

***

But by Monday morning, Julie wasn’t so sure any more. The black clothes were all she had, and they looked odd without the black makeup and nail polish. She almost relapsed. She had the bottle of nail polish open...

No. She capped it again. She compromised on the makeup – not much of it, and not black, but darker shades than what Brittany had used. Shoes? Nah, I’ll go barefoot today, she thought.

Julie’s parents and Alex had already left for work, but her younger sibs were still finishing their breakfast. Both wore shorts and t-shirts again – like Julie, they hadn’t bothered with shoes.

“You still look like a walking bruise,” Katie observed.

“I thought you were giving up the Goth look,” Jenny added.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Julie confessed. “It’s a pretty big change.”

“You need one,” Katie said brutally. “You could be pretty if you’d just let yourself be.”

Tears welled up in Julie’s eyes. She brushed them away and stormed out of the room.

The sun hadn’t warmed the concrete front stoop yet – it felt cool under Julie’s bare feet. She sat on the steps and looked out over the neighborhood.

Candice Wade came out of her house across the cul-de-sac, heading for the mailbox. Candice was a little beauty with a trim and shapely figure, fair skin, shoulder-length ash-blonde hair, bright blue eyes and delicate china-doll features. She was wearing denim shorts, a white t-shirt and flip-flops. She saw Julie and waved.

Julie waved back. She liked Candice. She had met the little blonde not long after her family moved in. Candice and two others had tricked Alex and tickled her silly – Julie had helped her sister take revenge. That sort of thing was common enough on Tickle Street – none of the participants held a grudge over it.

Candice crossed the cul-de-sac. “Hey, Julie, are you busy today?” she asked. She noticed the blue nail polish. “Hey, I like it! Changing your look?”

“No to both – I think,” Julie answered. “I mean, I’m not sure about the look, and I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

“The drugstore’s closed Sunday and Monday, so I’ve got today off,” Candice answered. “Sara left a few minutes ago to get Amanda. We’re gonna go to Riverside Park. Want to come?”

“Sure. What do I need to bring?”

“Just yourself,” Candice said. “If we’re still there at lunchtime, one of us can go get a bucket of chicken.”

“OK. Let me find my shoes and tell my sisters,” Julie said. “I’ll be at your place in a few minutes.”

Julie hesitated over shoes, finally stepped into her Birkenstocks and headed back to Candice’s house. Sara’s mother’s minivan was parked in Candice’s driveway when she got there. Julie had met Sara, of course – had in fact tickled her senseless. The other girl was a stranger.

Sara Rosen had her mother’s green eyes and dark hair, worn long in a pony tail. But unlike her mother, some quirk of Sara’s genetics had combined to give her a figure like Dolly Parton – a small girl with an hourglass waist and amazing upper body development. She wore red shorts, sandals, and a pink collared knit shirt.

Amanda Mason was a little cutie, a petite girl with curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, dark brows, long dark lashes, and a trim and shapely figure. She wore a pair of ratty jeans shorts and a white t-shirt with a red rose on it. She stood an inch or so over five feet tall in her bare feet. Julie liked her right away.

The girls went inside to make last-minute pit stops. Julie had already done that at home – she waited for the others in the living room.

“TICKLE FIGHT!” Amanda yelled, and suddenly Julie was on her tummy on the floor, with Amanda sitting on her facing aft. Amanda grabbed Julie’s ankles, pulled, and wrapped a leg around Julie’s shins, tucking the foot under the upraised knee of the other leg in the figure-four leg lock. The little brunette was unbelievably fast – Julie was laughing her head off before she quite knew what happened.

Julie laughed at the top of her lungs as Amanda’s tickling fingernails explored her sensitive soles. Julie’s feet were off-the-scale ticklish all over. That meant that everything Amanda did drove Julie wild. Amanda used all of her fingernails to tickle between all of Julie’s toes at the same time. Julie laughed like a maniac as Amanda held her toes back and tickled the soft skin underneath. Her fair skin was pink from laughing, tears of laughter ran down her cheeks. She wasn’t resisting – all of her strength had been tickled away.

Julie laughed her head off as Amanda tickled the stretched out soles, side to side, then released the toes and covered Julie’s arches with tiny nail flicks. She laughed helplessly as Amanda drew circles, squares and other tickling shapes on her heels and arches. Then two-handed tickling on both soles – Julie’s toes twitched and curled as she laughed and laughed. Amanda speeded up, tickling in Julie’s arches, and tickled Julie’s breath away.

“Not bad,” Amanda said. She dismounted and stood up. “I really enjoy tickling Goths,” she continued. “You’re all so gloomy, it’s fun make you laugh.”

Julie rolled onto her back and shuffled her feet on the rug to get the tickle off. “I’m not... gloomy!” she said, indignation overcoming shortness of breath. She was sweaty, her black clothes were rumpled, tears mixed with dark eyeliner streaked her face. “And I’m not a Goth! Not any more!”

She was up and out of the house before Amanda could reply. Behind her, she heard Candice say “Nice going, Amanda!” She ignored them, went back home and upstairs. I’ll show ‘em all!

In her room, Julie shucked her clothes. She padded barefoot in just her panties to the bathroom and scrubbed her face clean. Then to Jenny and Katie’s room, and she looted Jenny’s dresser. The khaki shorts she tried on fit her well enough. Likewise the t-shirts – she settled on a maroon one. She stepped into a pair of flip-flops and headed back downstairs.

The doorbell rang. “I’ve got it!” Katie called out. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Julie! It’s Candice!”

Candice was waiting by the door. “Julie, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should’ve warned you. She does that.”

“She did me a favor,” Julie said. She pivoted around, showing off her outfit. “Like it?” she asked.

“Lots better,” Candice answered. “Much better than black. You’re not mad?”

“Not any more.”

“And not any less either, I’ll bet,” Candice replied. “Still want to come with us? We’d love to have you.”

“Not this time, Candice,” Julie said. “I think I’ll go shopping instead.”

She chickened out and changed back into black – after so long, she felt weird wearing anything else. She drove to Squander Mall a little too fast, but she couldn’t outrun her thoughts: I’m just a nobody. Pretty Alex’s Goth kid sister. Who am I trying to kid?

The sales clerk was another redhead about her own age. The girl was tall, drop-dead gorgeous, with long coppery red hair, a beautiful face, and that perfect skin only redheads have. Her eyes were deep blue, almost indigo. She wore low-heel sandals and a summer dress with a blue floral print that showed her great body and long, shapely legs to good advantage. The plastic name tag pinned to her dress said Kelly.

“Ready to check out?” the clerk asked.

Julie shook her head. “Didn’t find anything I liked,” she said. “Sorry for the trouble.” The clerk was gorgeous, Julie thought, and her clothes were perfect. Why can’t I look like that?

“All pays the same,” the girl said. “Maybe next time.”

The department store anchored one end of the mall. Julie left and headed toward the food court in the middle of the mall. Alex worked at Fourbucks Coffee – she could visit, have a cup of coffee, so maybe the trip wouldn’t be a total waste.

Alex’s co-worker Stephanie Miklajcyk was at the counter when Julie walked up. Stephanie had the same beauty-queen look as the redheaded clerk – tall, Rubenesque, with flawless fair skin, long, silky light brown hair and bright green eyes. The shapeless uniform somehow failed to conceal her hourglass figure and great legs. Julie didn’t know her well, but Alex seemed to like her a lot.

“Hi, Stephanie!” Julie called out. “Is Alex here?”

“Hold on. I’ll get her.”

Alex was in the stock room, it turned out. Seeing the two together, no one would have guessed that red-haired Julie and blonde Alex were sisters – they looked nothing alike.

“I didn’t expect to see you here today, Julie,” Alex said.

“Decided to go shopping. Maybe try something other than black.”

“Find anything you like?”

Julie shook her head. “Individual pieces, but I just couldn’t put ‘em together. There was nothing really wrong with the things I tried on, but they didn’t suit me either,” she said in frustration. “Didn’t buy a thing – even with a clean slate, it’s not easy changing your image. Might as well go home. You get off in a few minutes, don’t you? Want a ride?”

“No, Stephanie and I have plans after work,” Alex replied.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Stephanie said.

“No thanks,” Julie said. “See you at home, Alex.”

Jenny and Katie confronted Julie as soon as she came through the door. “You took my clothes,” Jenny said angrily. “You dumped the rest on the floor. That really pissed me off. Why didn’t you just ask to borrow something?”

“And why did you bother?” Katie added. “You’re in black again, same as usual. Were you playing dress-up?”

Julie burst into tears and ran upstairs. It was obvious that they thought of her as their weird Goth sister. She loved her sisters, and knew they loved her, but it still hurt her feelings.

***

The three younger girls awkwardly made up over Tuesday’s breakfast. Jenny and Katie made a peace offering of another trip to the mall, and Julie agreed. The younger girls helped her to select a new summer wardrobe, a few pieces that she could mix and match, and cosmetics too. The same redheaded sales clerk helped them cull out the best of the best. They all had fun doing it – Katie said it was like dressing a big Barbie doll.

They stopped at Fourbucks Coffee afterward to visit Alex. Julie was wearing some of her purchases – subtle makeup that suited her fair complexion, a cute top with spaghetti straps in a shade of green that only a redhead could wear, a short white skirt, white platform flip-flops that added a good 3 inches to her height. Her hair was done up in a pony tail. Her eyes picked up color from the top – they were a brilliant green.

“I’m impressed,” Stephanie said. “You look great, Julie.” She checked her watch. “There’s somebody I’d like you to meet. A friend of mine. I’ll ask her to come here on her break.” She turned away and made a fast call on her cell phone.

Not long afterward, Alex and Stephanie joined the younger girls at the food court table. “Place isn’t busy,” Alex said. “We’ll take a break too.”

“She’ll be along in– ” Stephanie started. “There she is! Kelly! Over here!”

The newcomer was the redheaded sales clerk from the department store. “Hi, Stephanie, Alex,” she said. “Who’s this? Didn’t I just– ”

“Meet Alex’s sisters, Kelly,” Stephanie said. “Katie’s the little one, then Jenny. Julie’s the redhead – she’s our age. This is my friend Kelly McGuire.”

“Hi, everybody,” Kelly said. “What’s this about, Stephanie?”

“Julie’s just changed her image,” Stephanie answered. “I think another change might do her good – maybe you can recruit her.”

“Recruit?” Julie asked, confused.

Kelly laughed. “You qualify for a select society, Julie – the Red-Headed League. It started off as... well, never mind. But we kept it going afterward, just for laughs.”

“That’s for sure,” Stephanie said in a meaningful tone.

“I’d like you to come to a gathering, Julie,” Kelly continued. “I’ll set up for tonight. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Julie didn’t hesitate. “When and where?” she asked.

“Wait one,” Kelly said. She stood and walked a little way off, then made a short phone call.

Kelly came back. “It’s all set. Here ya go,” she said, writing on a napkin. “Tonight, 7 PM. Gotta get back to work – see ya then!” Julie was surprised to see a Tickle Street address on the written directions. Apparently Emily MacDonald was a member too.

Two customers showed up, looking for coffee. “Finish with your sisters, Alex,” Stephanie said. “I’ll take care of ‘em.”

“Your new clothes look good on you, Julie,” Alex said. “Feel any different?”

Julie took stock of herself. “Yah, I feel... transformed,” she said. “Like coming out of a cocoon. I’ll be a while getting used to it, I think.”

“Go to your gathering tonight,” Alex said. “Will help you spread your wings, like butterfly.”

“Butterflies are brainless,” Katie scoffed. “Like Julie. I’m just glad she won’t be moping around any more, bringing everybody down. OW!” She rubbed her ankle. “Jen-nee! Why’d you kick me there?”

“You’re sitting down – couldn’t kick you in the butt like you deserve,” Jenny said. “Julie’s trying. Be nice, or shut up.”

“Never mind,” Julie said. “She’s just being Katie. Alex has to get back to work. Ready to go?”

Julie changed into another of her new outfits after supper – jeans shorts and a pale blue sleeveless top with a pattern of colorful butterfies on it. She was the first to arrive at Emily’s house. Emily greeted her at the door, in gray TCHS gym shorts and a TCPD t-shirt – her father was a police officer. She was a petite girl with a cute shape, shoulder-length hair and jade-green eyes. Her fiery red hair was up in little-girl pigtails. Julie knew that Emily was older, but she looked all of about 15 yrs old.

“Good choice,” Emily said, with a gesture that took in Julie’s outfit. “You had sense enough to wear something loose and comfortable. Come on in.” She didn’t react to Julie’s changed appearance. Julie had the impression that very little surprised Emily.

Emily was barefoot. Julie hesitated, then kicked off her sandals at the door and followed Emily into the kitchen.

“My dad’s working the 3-to-11 patrol shift tonight,” Emily said. “We’ve got the place to ourselves until midnight or so. Want something to drink?”

Julie accepted a Coke and sat at the kitchen table with Emily. “What’s the deal with the Red-Headed League?” she asked.

“Marching-and-chowder society,” Emily said. Julie looked puzzled. “Sorry, that’s an old-fashioned term. We get together and hang out. Sometimes we go out and do things together. But not tonight – we’ll just stay here and play.”

“Why that name? And how’d you start it?” Julie asked.

Emily laughed. “It’s from a Sherlock Holmes story about a scam. Your next-door neighbors Vicky and Veronica Righetti worked something like it on Kelly McGuire.” She grinned. “We got ‘em back, and then some. Ask ‘em about it sometime.”

The doorbell rang. Emily went to answer it and came back with Meghan Meyer from up the street. Meghan was a tiny girl, not even 5 ft tall, who weighed maybe 90 lb soaking wet. She had curves in all the right places, freckled fair skin, strawberry blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. She was in gym shorts and t-shirt too – her shirt was midnight blue, with a picture of an owl on it.

“I’ve just been telling Julie about the Red-Headed League,” Emily said.

Meghan did a double-take. “Julie! I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Changing my image,” Julie said. “Coming here is part of it. It was time – I was tired of who I was.”

“I’m new here too,” Meghan said. “The others invited me to join just a few weeks ago.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “I guess there was some question whether I qualify.”

“How many more are there in this group?” Julie asked.

“Two,” Emily answered. “Kelly called from Rachel’s place just before you got here. They’ll be along in a few minutes.”

The doorbell rang again. “That was quick,” Emily remarked, and went to let them in.

Julie had met Kelly already. The girl was just as beautiful in gym shorts and a kelly-green t-shirt (her little joke?) as she had been at the mall. Rachel was about Emily’s size and build. She was in her mid-20’s, though she looked younger. She had shoulder-length fiery red hair, a crooked grin, fair skin and a fit and shapely body. Her eyes were jade green. She looked enough like Emily to be her older sister. How odd, thought Julie – they can’t possibly be related.

“I understand you’ve met my roomie Amanda, Julie,” Rachel said. Her accent was Southern, not like Anne Kincaid’s Mississippi drawl, but from somewhere else.

“She tickled the shit outa me!” Julie said indignantly.

“She does that,” Rachel said. “She was giving you an excuse to retaliate – she loves to be tickled. Come over to our place and return the favor. She’ll be your friend for life.”

Emily cleared her throat. “Now that we’re all here, this meeting of the Red-Headed League will come to order. Is there any old business?” Leadership came naturally to Emily – she didn’t look any different, but somehow now she had presence. There was no doubt at all who was in charge.

“None,” Rachel said.

“New business?” Emily asked.

Kelly raised a hand. “I propose Julie Budanov for membership.”

“Chair seconds the motion. Any objections from the membership?” Emily’s question was pro-forma. “No? Table the motion until after the initiation.” She turned to Julie. “You’re a candidate member, Julie. Stand up.”

Julie had some idea of what the initiation would be – no surprise there. She stood, and they walked her into a good-sized den or study. There was a massage table set up in the middle of the room. Then four sets of hands picked her up and laid her on the table, on her back. She felt constriction around wrists and ankles as they bound her spread-eagle.

“Sure you want to go through with this, Julie?” Emily asked.

“Yes I do,” she said. How bad could it be?

She found out.

Meghan grinned devilishly and cracked her knuckles. “Remember the day we met?” she asked. “You tickled me ‘til I was delirious. Now I’m gonna return the favor.”

Meghan started tickling Julie’s armpits, and Julie burst into ticklish laughter. She worked her way down Julie’s ribs, rubbing the skin against the bones, taking her time, while Julie laughed like a madwoman.

The ticklish sides were next, poking and grabbing and forcing stream after stream of ticklish laughter. Then under the shirt and onto the tummy, tickling in circles, and Julie’s laughter went off the scale.

Meghan shifted and lobster-clawed the front of Julie’s thighs and knees. She tickled the backs of both knees, then the backs and insides of the thighs. Julie bounced and squirmed, laughing helplessly.

Then Meghan tickled Julie’s right foot, holding the toes back and tickling the stretched-out sole. Suddenly, Julie was squirming, bucking, trying desperately to pull her foot away, laughing at the top of her lungs. Meghan tickled up and down the crease in the middle and on the ball of the foot. She scratched between two toes, producing more helpless laughter, repeated it on the other toes, tickling between each pair. She tickled under the toes, then down the arch to the heel while Julie laughed and laughed.

Meghan quit – Julie giggled as the tickling sensation faded. Emily gave Meghan a thumbs-up. “Good work,” she said.

“I try,” Meghan said with false modesty. “Care to join me?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Kelly replied, and started gently stroking her fingernails in her exposed armpits, producing a stream of little giggles. The tickling fingers picked up speed – no more giggles, the laughter was continuous now.

Meghan joined in, tickling down the front of Julie’s thighs to her knees, then up the back of the thighs to her butt. Julie’s helpless laughter went up a notch.

Emily started tickling up and down Julie’s ribs. She carefully tickled on each rib, tickled the spaces between them, then lobster clawed her way up and down as Julie squirmed and laughed. The tickling hands moved down Julie’s sides, then pushed the bottom of her shirt up and tickled onto her tummy. Julie struggled against her bonds, laughing her head off.

Rachel scrabbled her fingernails all over the bottoms of both of Julie’s feet. Julie went wild, helpless ticklish laughter streaming out of her.

Julie laughed her head off as Emily tickled her flat abs, one hand following the panty line and the other the rib cage. Emily’s tickling hands roamed in circles around her navel, then side to side, hand over hand, crossing over and back to the ticklish sides. Then a single fingernail, circling around Julie’s navel until she thought she would go crazy.

Kelly tickled down Julie’s ribs, lobster-clawed the fit sides, then back up the ribs to the armpits again, over and over. Lower down, Meghan’s tickling moved to the insides of Julie’s thighs. Julie was helpless – all she could do was lay there and laugh like mad.

Worst of all was the foot tickling. Rachel tickled Julie’s soles, and Julie’s toes twitched and curled – reflex action, she was no longer capable of coordinated movement. Rachel drew circles, squares, figure-eight’s and other tickling shapes in Julie’s arches. She scratched and scrabbled on the heels. Julie laughed until she thought she would burst from an overload of tickling.

The tickling didn’t last forever, though it seemed that way. The four ticklers never said a word, just tickled with all the fiendish tricks they knew. They reduced her to gasping, red-faced silent laughter – no one could endure four-on-one tickling for long.

“Doing OK, girlfriend?” Meghan asked. But Julie was too breathless to answer – she laid there gasping, trying to get her heart rate normal again. They gave her a minute or so, then started in on her again.

The first time had been an exploration to find the best spots. The second was intended to overload Julie with whole-body tickling. Now it was straightforward tickle torture, two of them tickling her tummy and sides and two more her feet.

They shoved her shirt up under her arms, then Meghan tickled back and forth across her tummy. Rachel joined the tummy tickling, and Julie arched her back and laughed like mad. Rachel tickled onto Julie’s sides and lobster clawed them, Meghan kept up the tummy tickling, tickling in circles. Julie laughed her head off as Meghan circled her navel with a single fingernail, while Rachel’s hands roamed up and down her sides and ribs. It tickled horribly!

Kelly and Emily tickled Julie’s feet, keeping pace with each other. They tickled her heels, up the arches, onto the soles. They spread her toes and tickled between them, held the toes back and tickled the soft skin underneath, then onto the stretched out soles. Julie laughed and laughed, incapable of resistance, all the fight tickled out of her. Down the arches, onto the heels, back up to the toes again – over and over, while time expanded and the tickling filled Julie’s universe. Then the finale, four-handed, fingernails flying on sensitive soles, covering every square inch of sensitive skin with unbearable tickling.

The tickling was more than Julie could bear – she laughed herself breathless again.

“OK, that’s it,” Emily said. They released Julie’s bonds and left her gasping on the table. Julie took long deep breaths, eyes closed, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. She was sweaty, her throat was desert dry, her ribs and abs ached like she had taken a beating. Her feet still tingled from the tickling.

Kelly and Meghan helped Julie to sit up. Rachel handed her a bottle of water – she drained it in three long gulps.

“Woo!” Julie gasped out. “That really, really tickled! Am I in?”

“All in favor?” Emily asked. “Opposed? Accepted by acclamation. Welcome, sister!”

“What next?” Julie asked. She stood, wobbled and steadied herself on the massage table – she was pretty shaky. Her feet still tingled, but she didn’t shuffle them – somehow, it just wouldn’t be right to do it.

Rachel grinned crookedly. “Why, you get to take revenge, of course!”

“There’s five of us now,” Meghan observed. “It’s not gonna come out even. We need at least one more.”

“Y’know,” Kelly said thoughtfully, “Vicky and Veronica worked that scam on 6 or 7 other girls besides me. Redheads all. Maybe we ought to recruit them too.”

“Know who they are?” Emily asked.

“Nope. I figured we could tickle the information out of the twins.”

“I could just ask ‘em,” Julie blurted out unthinkingly.

Silence. Then Rachel grinned again. “What would be the fun in that?” she asked.

***

Julie finished her breakfast, stood up and stretched. Wednesday morning looked like it would turn into a beautiful day. Too nice to stay indoors.

She went outside onto the back porch, nodded to Katie and Jenny. They had the house to themselves again. Oddly enough, all three had dressed identically this morning – khaki shorts and blue collared shirts. None of them had bothered with shoes.

“Any plans for today, sis?” Jenny asked.

“Recover from last night,” Julie answered, smiling. “You two just think you’re good ticklers.”

“We could practice on you,” Katie said hopefully. “Get the juices flowing.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Julie said, making a fend-off motion with both hands. “My ribs still hurt from laughing.”

“Suit yourself,” Jenny said. “We’ll entertain ourselves.”

“Three guesses how,” Katie said, grinning. “And the first two don’t count.”

“Well, don’t tear up the house,” Julie said. “I think I’ll go visit Meghan.”

Julie walked west, taking her time and enjoying the day. The morning sunlight, the quiet neighborhood, the gentle breeze, a few clouds sailing overhead – even the sidewalk, cool and rough under her bare feet. She felt great – the change had been long overdue.

Julie walked past the Gabreskis’ house to Meghan’s, right next door. She knocked on Meghan’s door – no answer. Meghan didn’t have to be at work until 10AM, two hours from now. Maybe she’d gone to run an errand...

Michael Gabreski came outside in jeans and t-shirt, to get the morning newspaper. He had a summer job washing cars at the local Ford agency – she was a little surprised to see him.

“They’re not home,” Michael called out. “Can I tell them who...” A pause. “Julie! I didn’t recognize you!”

“Hi, Michael,” Julie said with a shy smile. “Like my new look?”

“You look great,” he said. “Tell me about it. Come on over here so we don’t have to yell.”

He sat on the top porch step, and she sat down beside him. “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked.

“We’re getting a dozen new cars in today around noon,” he said. “They told me not to come in ‘til then, and then stay ‘til they’re ready to put out on the lot. I’m a gentleman of leisure this morning. I was gonna call Anne after I finished the paper. Now tell me – what got you to make the change?”

“I guess I’ve been thinking about changing my look ever since we moved here,” she answered. “But your comment Sunday about tickling Goths finally motivated me.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Michael said.

“No, you were right,” Julie said. She crossed one leg over the other, one foot dangling. “Life is good. I just needed to stop being so hard on myself and let myself enjoy it.” He’s checking out my legs, she thought. Anne has great legs. Mine aren’t bad either. Why couldn’t I see that before?

“Well, I’m glad for you, Julie,” he said. “You never seemed like you were very happy. I hope that’ll change now. That you’ll laugh a little more.”

He was checking out the dangling foot now. Uh-oh! She uncrossed her legs, put both feet flat on the step. He probably tickles Anne a lot, thought Julie. And unless I’m careful...

He really was fast for a big guy – he grabbed up both ankles in one big hand and stood up. Deja vu, thought Julie wildly – here I am with my feet up in the air again.

“Dirty feet!” Michael said. “I’ll tickle ‘em clean!” He started in on her, tickling both heels at once. Another stray thought – not so dirty! – while wild laughter streamed out of her.

Julie’s helpless laughter filled the air as Michael tickled both feet at once, covering every square inch of sensitive skin with tickling nail flicks. He drew circles, squares and other tickling shapes on her heels and arches. He tickled both soles, side to side – Julie’s toes twitched and curled as she laughed and laughed. He drew wavy lines down her arches, figure-eight’s on her heels, overlapping circles back up her arches to her soles again. Julie laughed helplessly as Michael tickled the balls of her feet. Her fair skin was pink from laughing, tears of laughter ran down her cheeks. She struggled, but to no avail – he was just too strong.

“I really like tickling redheads,” Michael said. “They turn such a pretty pink...”

Michael flicked his nails on Julie’s heels, a motion like chording a guitar. Julie was helpless to resist the fiendish and well techniqued tickling – she laughed her head off. She was losing it, slipping into ticklish delirium. A final thought crossed her mind before the tickling drove away all coherent thought.

Some things never change.


***THE END***


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