Tickle Street Chapter 37 – “Setup”

By Strelnikov
Copyright 2005 by the author


Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)

Anne Kincaid
She’s 19 years old, has a great body, light brown hair, long lashes and dazzling hazel eyes. She lives with her parents, grandfather and two brothers, Josh and Jim. No one talks about why they moved to Tieson City. Anne has a heavenly Southern accent and is extremely ticklish. Needless to say, everyone takes full advantage. She once had the typical Southern girl innocence… But she got over it long ago.

Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18, almost 19, and has lived on Tickle Street all of 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 it can quickly be destroyed if she's tickled. She's super-ticklish, and everybody always takes advantage of that.

Joanna Shaw
Joanna is Brittany’s cousin – their mothers are twin sisters. She’s a month or so younger than Brittany. She had always been the perfect female athlete. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She always felt invincible due to her greatness in sports, but tickle her and she loses it. She sees her ticklishness as a great weakness, and now prefers to do unto others before they can do unto her.

Melissa Gabreski
Melissa is attractive with great curves, dark hazel eyes, and long dark brown hair with blonde streaks. She’s 20 years old, has lived on Tickle Street her whole life but until recently had few friends outside of her parents and Michael, her younger brother. She's super ticklish, and thinks it’s weird to be so ticklish like she is. She used to be very shy – but the other girls cured that!

Angie Fontana
Angie will be a Senior at TCHS this fall – she has just turned 18. She has a beauty queen build – tall, drop-dead gorgeous, with long dark hair, dark brows and lashes, soft brown eyes, a beautiful face, hourglass figure and long, shapely legs. Her skin is tanned and flawless. She’s insanely ticklish, and regards that as her greatest weakness.

Vicky and Veronica Righetti
They’re “mirror twins” – identical, but Vicky, the leader, is a lefty (Latin “sinister”) and Veronica is right handed. They’re two years older than Brittany, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have wavy dark brown hair worn shoulder length, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.


Sadistic Siblings…

Anne’s Brothers
Josh Kincaid is 21 yrs old, Jim is 18. They’re into football (a religious sacrament in the South), cars, fishing, and tickling Anne and her friends – not necessarily in that order.

Melissa’s Brother
Michael Gabreski is two years younger, a head taller and outweighs his sister Melissa by 100 lbs – “big sister/little brother” is a family joke. Melissa knows better than to let him get in tickle range of her feet, but sometimes… Well, shit happens.

Joanna’s Sister
Jamie Shaw is quite the little imp, 13 yrs old, who loves to sneak up on her older sister and tickle her. Like Joanna, she has dark brown hair, blue eyes and freckles.



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


Anne Kincaid rolled out of bed just after 9 AM. She was a petite girl, a transplanted Southern belle with light brown hair, long lashes and dazzling hazel eyes. The ratty nightshirt she wore showed off her fine-looking legs and couldn’t quite conceal her great body. But she desperately needed to brush her teeth – her mouth tasted like the inside of an old leather boot. She checked herself out in her dresser mirror – bad case of bed head too.

She felt a little more human after brushing her teeth and taking a shower. Sleeping late took a lot of the sting out of mornings, she thought. As usual this time of day, she had plenty of time on her hands. The Kincaid family were new to Tieson City, having moved from Mississippi just a few months ago. Their family business was an old riverboat called Proud Mary – they took tourists on day trips and had a thriving dinner cruise business besides. The dinner cruises meant that they finished late at night – they never got up early to go to work.

Let’s see... Jeans shorts and a Dixie Girls t-shirt. Shoes? Nah, she wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe across the street to see her best friend Melissa Gabreski, or Melissa’s brother Michael. Anne had met them both a day or so after her family moved in. Melissa worked on the riverboat too, and was dating Anne’s older brother Josh. Anne had been dating Michael since the beginning of summer.

Anne had the house to herself, it seemed – everybody else had gone off somewhere, even Grandpa. She made coffee, got two gooey jelly donuts and took them out onto the screened in back porch. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day – good weather for the cruise this evening.

Breakfast finished, Anne took her dishes inside. She walked out to the mail box at the curb, hoping that her “Asimov’s Science Fiction” magazine had come, but no such luck – just the usual assortment of junk and bills.

“Hi, Anne!” a voice called out.

Anne looked around. “Oh, hi, Brittany. Haven’t seen you for a while.” Brittany Righetti lived up the street, on the cul-de-sac. She was Anne’s age, very attractive with a lifeguard tan, long dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features and curves in all the right places. She wore old gray gym shorts, flip-flops and a black Miskatonic University t-shirt. She had her dog with her, a brindle-colored mutt named Spanky.

“Different schedules. But this guy’s as regular as clockwork,” Brittany said, indicating the dog. The dog ambled up to Anne, tail wagging, and sniffed. Satisfied, he irrigated the mail box post.

Neither girl would admit it, but they were very much alike in two respects – they were both highly competitive, and both had a well-developed spirit of mischief. They had a friendly rivalry going, each trying to get the better of the other, just for the bragging rights and the fun of it. Anne had nothing better to do for a while. Hmm...

Spanky spotted one of the neighborhood cats. He let loose with a volley of barking, then took off in hot pursuit.

“Well, that’s that,” Brittany said, looking after the departing dog. “He won’t be back for a while. Wonder what he’d do with that cat if he caught it?”

“Want some coffee?” Anne offered. “Still pretty fresh – I made it for my breakfast.”

“Up at the crack of 9, eh?” Brittany said, grinning. “OK, I could do with a cuppa joe.”

“My grandfather says that,” Anne said as she led the way inside.

“Yah, mine did too,” Brittany said. “I miss him. You’re lucky.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, another for Anne, and they went out onto the porch together.

Anne sat in one of the white plastic chairs. Brittany took a facing chair and crossed one leg over the other, sandaled foot dangling.

Anne checked out the dangling foot. “New nail polish?” she asked.

Brittany extended her leg. “New nail art place downtown,” she said. “I got a pedicure too. They did a good job, and the price was pretty reasonable. But it sure did tickle.”

“Always does,” Anne said. She reached out and took hold of Brittany’s ankle. “Not bad – maybe I’ll try ‘em,” she said. She slipped the flip-flop off. “Quality check – let’s see if the pedicure’s as good as the art.” She traced a fingernail around the outside of Brittany’s heel, and was rewarded with a little giggle. “No callus so far,” she said.

Anne circled the nail on Brittany’s heel, a light touch that had Brittany giggling like a little girl. Then two fingers, lightly tracing zig-zag lines up Brittany’s arch – more giggles – and figure-eight’s on Brittany’s sole. Brittany didn’t pull back – she gripped the chair arms as a burst of laughter escaped her lips. Anne gently flicked the exact center of Brittany’s sole, then scratched the sensitive skin under the toes. Another short burst of laughter – the base of the big toe was especially ticklish.

“Hehehe! Are you– haha! –about finished– hehe-haha! –messing with– haha! –me– hehehe!” Brittany asked and giggled.

“Not quite,” Anne she said, and flicked her nails in Brittany’s arch, just in front of the heel.

“HAHAHAHA-HAHAHA!” Brittany laughed, and pulled loose. “Quit! You know how much that tickles!”

Anne grinned. “Couldn’t resist. Looks like they get the seal of approval.”

“Glad you approve,” Brittany said. “Good thing you quit – that was my third cup of coffee this morning.” She kicked off her other sandal and went inside.

Anne leaned back and propped up her feet on the arm of Brittany’s chair. That was asking for it, she supposed – she was setting herself up for a tickle attack. But she figured she would hear Brittany coming back in time to put them back down.

She was wrong. Brittany slipped up on her and gave her feet a quick tickle.

“Hehehehe!” Anne giggled, and put her feet down. “Trying to start something?”

“Nah, too hot for a tickle fight,” Brittany said. “I’m gonna burn up today on the lifeguard stand. Hey, you ought to come to the pool. You’ve never been there, have you?”

“Nope,” Anne answered. “Probably nothing but little kids anyway.”

“So bring Michael. Soak up some rays.”

“OK, we’re supposed to get together today anyway,” Anne said. “He ought to be up by now. I’ll tell him we’re going to the pool. He’ll be happy about the cheap date.”

“No doubt,” Brittany said. She checked her watch. “Gotta go – I’ve got to help Will vacuum the pool before we open. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time,” Anne said. She got up. “See ya!”

Anne changed into her bikini, added a wrap-around beach sarong, and put her sun-block, towel and flip-flops into a beach bag. Michael and Melissa lived just across the street – she didn’t bother with shoes for the short walk. Probably a mistake going barefoot, she thought – I’m setting myself up for some serious tickling. Michael’s hobby was foot tickling – he’d been tickling Melissa ever since he got big enough to get away with it, and now Anne got more than her share.

Oh well, she thought philosophically – shoes would just delay the inevitable, he’d get ‘em off me pretty quick anyway. Her brothers had tickled her for years. She had always fought like a wildcat to escape – not that it ever did her any good. But when Michael was involved, her resistance was more for show than anything else.

“Hi, Anne,” he greeted her. “Let’s sit on the back porch. Coffee?” He was a big guy who had played football in high school, with light-streaked dark hair and hazel eyes like his sister Melissa. He wore a green wife-beater shirt, shorts and sneakers.

“No thanks – I’ve had two cups already.”

They sat in canvas director chairs facing each other. “Looks like you want to go swimming today,” Michael said, with a wave at her outfit.

“Yah, let’s go to the pool at the park,” Anne suggested.

“Cheap date. Yesss!” he said.

Anne laughed. “I thought you’d say that. What time do they open?”

Michael checked his watch. “It’s 9:45 now. I think they open at 10:30 on Saturdays. Used to, anyway. Looks like we’ve got some time to kill.”

Here it comes, thought Anne.

“You’ve got a Tickling Death Match coming up with Melissa, don’t you?” Michael asked. “Need some aerobic conditioning to get ready?”

Anne and Melissa had started the foot-tickling contests at the beginning of summer, sort of by accident. It had turned into a good-natured but nonetheless serious competition – so far, Anne was ahead 11 to 7. Their new friend and co-worker Angie Fontana had joined in after she hired on – her current score against Anne was 0 for 2, but she had beaten Melissa 2 for 0.

The “conditioning” was part of the game too – Michael had appointed himself her “personal trainer”, just as Josh and Jim had for Melissa and Angie. On the plus side, Anne thought, her brothers tickled her a lot less lately. On the other hand (foot?), Michael tickled her silly just about every chance he got. Oh well, he would have done that anyway...

“I suppose so,” Anne said. “Soon as you’re ready.”

Michael grinned, reached down and gathered up both of Anne’s ankles in one big hand. “I’m always ready,” he said, and inspected Anne’s soles. “I see some dirt – I think I’ll tickle ‘em clean.” He flicked his nails on both of Anne’s heels – the sweet spots, where Anne’s feet were off-the-scale ticklish. Anne threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs.

Michael tickled the balls of Anne’s feet, then slowly down both arches while Anne laughed and laughed. He gave Anne’s heels a minute or so of tickle torture, and Anne almost lost it. Michael tickled back up Anne’s arches to the soles again, then slowly down to the ticklish heels. Another minute of heel tickling – Anne was right on the edge. Soles, arches, heels – over and over, until Anne thought she would go mad.

“Doin’ OK, Anne?” Michael asked, and speeded up, forcing out a solid stream of ticklish laughter. “Must be – you’re not complaining.”

Not complaining! Anne blinked away tears of laughter, still laughing like mad. As if she could complain!

Michael had Anne in the zone, laughing like a madwoman, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. He tickled both feet at once, covering Anne’s feet with nail flicks. He scratched the sensitive soles, then drew wavy lines, figure-eight’s and other tickling shapes in her arches. Anne laughed helplessly as Michael tickled the balls of her feet. He tickled down the arches onto the ticklish heels, flicked Anne’s heels like chording a guitar, and Anne laughed at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t resisting – the tickling had completely overcome her. She laughed her head off, red faced, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Still hangin’ in there?” Michael asked. Anne heard him, but she was still laughing much too hard to answer.

He teased her, tickling her arches and soles, then a fast flurry of heel flicks that put her laughter off the scale. Arches, heels, arches and soles, heels again, over and over, until Anne thought she would lose her mind. Then onto her ticklish heels again – he speeded up, tickling mercilessly, and tickled her into gasping, red-faced silent laughter.

Michael released Anne’s ankles. She put her feet down and shuffled them on the floor to get the tickle off. “That... was mean,” she said crossly. She took a deep breath. “It tickled really bad. Especially my heels – you know how that drives me crazy! And on a full stomach too,” she continued. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurl all over you.” She inspected a sole. “I think you tickled ‘em clean!”

Michael grinned, grabbed the foot and checked it out. “Not quite. Guess I’ll have to try again.”

Anne pulled loose – he didn’t really try to hold on. “OK, but let me catch my breath first,” she said.

Michael stood and gave Anne a hand up. “It can wait,” he said. “Saturdays are always busy at the pool. If we don’t get moving, we won’t get chairs.”

Anne was ready to go. Michael exchanged his shorts for a swimsuit – they gathered up the rest of Michael’s stuff, retrieved Anne’s and headed out.

They parked in the lot near the pool. Anne’s neighbor Joanna Shaw was on the baseball diamond with a crowd of little kids – she coached summer tee-ball, baseball on training wheels for the little ones. Joanna was athletic-looking and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and tanned, freckled fair skin. She wore a ball cap, t-shirt, gym shorts and sneakers. She and Michael had been the star athletes of their high school graduating class. She waved – Michael waved back.

The pool was surrounded by a 10 ft cyclone fence. The entrance was through a low cement block building. There was an open double door in the center of the blank wall that faced them. They entered a wide hallway that led to the pool through the middle of the building. There didn’t seem to be much activity, Anne saw – most of the moms and kids probably didn’t show up until after lunch.

The bath houses were off the hallway to the left. On the right was the pool office with a Dutch door that doubled as a ticket window. They paid at the window, then established squatter’s rights to two of the white plastic loungers on the pool deck.

Brittany worked here as a lifeguard – she greeted them from her seat on the stand overlooking the pool. She wore shades, a whistle on a lanyard, and a red one-piece swimsuit with LIFE+GUARD printed on it in white letters. She had kicked off her flip-flops – they were on the concrete next to the stand.

The lifeguards pulled 30 minute shifts, with breaks between to cool off and get out of the sun. Anne and Michael were in the pool when Brittany’s relief showed up. Brittany took off her sunglasses and whistle, stood up on the stand and dived cleanly into the pool. She surfaced a moment later, her long hair floating around her shoulders.

“Hi again, everybody!” Brittany said. “First time here, Anne? How d’you like the place?”

Anne shivered. “Water’s colder than what I’m used to.” Behind Brittany, Michael put a finger to his lips and submerged.

“Look on the bright side,” Brittany said, grinning. “No snapping turtles, alligators or cottonmouths either. Eep! Hehehe!” she giggled.

Michael surfaced beside Brittany – he had hold of an ankle. “Michael! Let me GO! HAHAHA-HAHA-HAHAHA!” she laughed as he tickled the foot. She thrashed and struggled, splashing, and went under, dragging him with her.

Michael and Brittany surfaced together – he still had hold of her ankle under the water. “Smoother than I expected,” he said.

“I’m a tenderfoot,” Brittany said. She tried to pull away, without success. “That’s why I wear flip-flops.”

“Maybe there’s no gators, but it seems there’s other hazards,” Anne said. She tickled the trapped foot.

“HAHA-HAHAHA! HAHAHA!” Brittany laughed, and splashed Anne with both hands. That started a water fight, with much splashing and dunking, yelling, feminine squeals and various foul blows. The guy on the lifeguard stand let it go on for two or three minutes, then blasted his whistle. The fight stopped.

“You know better than that, Brittany,” the guy called out.

“Sorry, Shane,” Brittany said, instantly contrite. “He’s right, I do know better,” she said to the others. She glanced up at the clock on the outside of the bath house. “Just about lunch time. Made any plans?”

“Fast food,” Michael said. “Anne and I were going to get it in a little while. Want to join us?”

Joanna walked up, carrying her sneakers with her socks stuffed inside. “David’s going out to Burger Blast in a few minutes to get lunch for us,” she said. She sat on the edge of the pool and put her feet in the water. “It’s no trouble for him to bring something for you too.”

“Cheeseburger and fries OK?” Brittany asked.

“Yah, and some Cokes,” Michael said.

“HEY DAVID!” Brittany yelled.

“Yo!” a male voice called from the pool office window.

“Cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger!” Brittany called back in a horrible imitation-Greek accent. “Fries! No Coke, Pepsi!”

“Gotcha!” came the response.

Michael laughed. “I see you’re still a fan of Classic Saturday Night Live,” he said.

“Yah. Y’know, if John Belushi had said “no coke, Pepsi” one more time, he’d be alive today.”

They left their stuff and trooped outside. Michael got a ratty old blanket out of his car – he spread it under a big maple tree. Joanna sat cross-legged on the grass, and Brittany flopped down on her tummy on the blanket, idly kicking her feet in the air. Anne grabbed a foot and gave it a tickle. Brittany giggled and kicked, but Anne ducked and she missed. Anne grabbed the ankle and flicked her nails in the arch – Brittany let out a burst of laughter, rolled over and grabbed Anne’s hands.

“You’re determined to have a tickle fight, aren’t you, Anne?” Brittany asked.

“Well, we’ve got some time to kill,” Anne answered. “Why not use it?”

“You’re right,” Brittany said. “But it was too hot for a tickle fight this morning, and it’s even hotter now. We’ll settle this by drawing cards, and go straight to the tickling. Suit you?”

Joanna snickered.

“Well... OK,” Anne said. She was suspicious, but there was nothing she could put a finger on. “Whose cards?”

“We’ve got some in the pool office. I’ll get ‘em.”

Brittany came back. “Here, Michael – look these over before we start.”

The cards were a little worn but still serviceable. Michael inspected them. “No marks that I can see,” he said.

“OK, we’ll each draw one card,” Brittany said, and took the cards back. “High card tickles low card.”

Brittany flubbed the shuffle – the cards scattered out in a disorderly pile. “Oops! Sorry!” she said, and gathered them up. She shuffled again, sloppily, then squared them up handed them to Anne. “OK, cut.”

Brittany took the cards back and shuffled, more smoothly this time. She was whistling something... the ice cream truck played that tune, thought Anne. It was from some old movie, but actually older even than that. Brittany handed the deck to Michael. “Hey Michael, cut the cards one more time for me,” she said.

Brittany shuffled and dealt out two cards face down. She was whistling again.

“Show ‘em,” Brittany said, and flipped hers over – the Seven of Spades, not unbeatable. But unfortunately, Anne’s was the Six of Diamonds. She was gonna get tickled silly! Shit!

“Swords and diamonds – a girl’s best friends,” Brittany said as she gathered up the cards. She shuffled once more and laid the deck aside. “Let’s find somewhere a little more private.”

There was a field house between the baseball diamonds and the tennis courts, a small building with rest rooms and an office/storage room. The morning tee-ball group had gone home, the afternoon group hadn’t showed up yet. Joanna’s fellow coaches were all out to lunch. It was ideal.

“Use these chairs,” Joanna said, and pulled two white plastic chairs off the stack in a corner. “There’s extra tennis net rope over here, Brittany. D’you want to watch, Michael?”

“I’d rather tickle,” Michael said, and got a chair off the stack for himself. “But watching’s fun too.”

“I’ll try to give you a good show,” Brittany said. “Over here, Anne.” She tied Anne’s hands behind her back. “Now sit.” Brittany lifted Anne’s ankles, rested them on the arm of another chair, then tied them together, taking a turn around the chair arm to anchor them.

Brittany sat in the second chair. Anne’s trapped feet were right at her fingertips, conveniently positioned for tickling. Even worse, Brittany had both hands free to tickle with – it was gonna be a bad one!

“Remember at the start of summer, when everybody ganged up on Vicky and Veronica?” Brittany asked. “Everybody but us – you set us up. Your boyfriend and brothers tickled the shit out of Joanna and me.”

Brittany circled a single fingernail around the ball of Anne’s foot. A cheerful stream of little giggles came from Anne, her toes twitched and curled.

“Sisters or no, the twins deserved it,” Brittany continued over Anne’s giggles. “But we didn’t – we were just collateral damage.”

Brittany flicked her nails across Anne’s soles – the giggles were mixed with laughter now.

“I don’t get mad,” Brittany said. “But I do GET EVEN!” She dug in – Anne arched her back and laughed her head off.

Brittany tickled both soles, well-manicured fingernails flicking and scratching – Anne’s toes twitched and curled as she laughed like mad. Brittany held the toes back and tickled side to side on the stretched out soles while Anne’s helpless laughter streamed out. She tickled side to side under Anne’s toes, and Anne lost it, laughing at the top of her lungs.

Brittany released Anne’s toes and tickled in her arches, drawing figure-eight’s and other tickling shapes. Anne laughed like a madwoman as Brittany circled two nails in her arches, just behind the soles. The tickling fingernails flicked her soles again, then down both arches. Anne bucked and squirmed, laughing helplessly, trying desperately to pull her feet away – she knew what was coming next.

Brittany tickled both heels, and Anne’s laughter went off the charts. She was red faced and sweaty, tears of laughter running down her cheeks, helpless to do anything but laugh as the tickling sucked away her strength.

Brittany prolonged the tickle torture. She spider-walked her nails up Anne’s arches to her soles, then drew fast, looping figure-eight’s around the balls of both feet. Side to side across both soles, then slowly back to the heels while Anne laughed and laughed. Anne’s heels got it next – Brittany gave them a good two minutes of tickling, using the tips of her nails, a light touch that didn’t make much contact but tickled unbearably. Brittany speeded up, mercilessly tickling both heels, and tickled Anne’s breath away.

“Well, Michael, did that suit you?” Brittany asked. Anne took long deep breaths, eyes closed, trying to get her breathing and heart rate normal again.

Michael grinned. “Couldn’t’ve done better myself,” he said. “But it would be fun to try. Ready for some more, Anne?”

“Oh Ghod no!” Anne begged. “That tickled so much!”

“It was supposed to,” Brittany said. “OK, we’re even. Anybody got a knife?”

Michael did, but it was in the car. “Back in a flash,” he said.

“Michael and your brothers got me too that time,” Joanna said, and switched places with Brittany. “This opportunity is too good to miss.”

“OH NOOO! Hurry, Michael!” Anne called after him. “OH SHIT! HAHAHA-HAHA-HAHAHAHA!” as Joanna tickled her sensitive soles.

“Time to laugh some more,” Joanna said, flicking well-manicured nails on Anne’s sensitive soles.

“Joanna! Ple– hehe! –ease! Sta– haha! –ap!” Anne got out. “HAHAHA-HAHA! HAHA-HAHAHA!”

Joanna tickled Anne’s heels two-handed. Anne’s senses were wide open – she laughed at the top of her lungs. It didn’t last long – a few minutes maybe – but it seemed like forever. Anne laughed and laughed, tears streaming, her hair whipping back and forth like a flag as she struggled against her bonds.

“Lunch is here,” Anne heard Brittany say over her own helpless laughter.

“Be right with you,” Joanna said. She gave the heels another 30 seconds of tickle torture, then quit. “OK, that’s it.”

Anne giggled, coming back from Tickle Hell. Michael cut Anne loose. He gave her a hand up and steadied her – she was a little shaky. “Woo!” Anne said. “Got anything to drink? I’m parched.”

The cheeseburgers and fries weren’t as hot as Anne would have preferred, but they were edible. She would have eaten them cold – she was ravenous. The afternoon tee-ball kids started coming just as they finished – Joanna put her socks and shoes back on and took her leave.

Brittany jumped in the pool to cool off as soon as they got back, then got up on the stand for her next shift. Anne and Michael got back in the water, not doing anything in particular, just paddling around. Brittany joined them again half an hour later. Anne checked the clock on the outside of the bath house – a little after 1:30 PM.

“Hey, y’all, I need to leave for work pretty soon,” Anne said. “We’ve got some setup to do for tonight’s cruise.” She got out and sat on the side. “My hair needs to dry before I dress out,” she said.

“Party pooper!” Michael said. He grabbed an ankle and gave the foot a quick tickle.

Anne giggled. “Quit!” she said, and pulled away.

They left the pool at 2 PM. Back home, Anne changed back into shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. Michael drove her to the boat.

Proud Mary was at the Johnson’s Ferry Marina, nosed in to the dock, with a gangplank leading from the dock to the bow. The short forward deck led aft to the superstructure, built up like a wedding cake, with a gangway on both sides inboard of the wheel boxes and a broad stairway to the upper decks right up front. The enclosed passenger deck above the main deck was set up as a buffet restaurant. Above that, the Texas deck held tables surrounding a dance floor – a balcony-like walkway with deck chairs went all the way around it outside, overlooking the water. The highest deck was the open, awning-covered hurricane deck, aft of the pilot house and the tall black smokestacks. The boat’s name was painted on the sides of her wheel boxes in Steamboat Gothic lettering 10 feet tall.

The original scotch marine boilers and steam engine had been beyond repair – these days, the smoke stacks were just decoration. A turbocharged Caterpillar 3512 marine diesel drove the big wheels now, through a reversing reduction gearbox. That freed up a lot of interior space on the main deck – the former boiler room forward was now divided into a business office, dressing rooms and storage, walled off from the engineering workshop at the rear of the space.

Anne’s parents and grandfather were there already, working on the many tasks required to make the evening’s cruise a success. Anne pitched in and got to work. The effort was a little like an iceberg – to the paying customers, 90% of it didn’t show.

Angie and Melissa showed up with Jim and Josh not long afterward. Melissa had great curves, dark hazel eyes, and long dark brown hair with blonde streaks. Angie had a beauty queen build – tall, drop-dead gorgeous, with long dark hair, dark brows and lashes, soft brown eyes, a beautiful face, hourglass figure and long, shapely legs. Anne’s brothers had her coloring, and there was no question that they were related – the guys’ features were masculine versions of her own.

They had everything ready by 4:30. Mom went ashore – she was the book keeper and business manager, and supervised the caterers on dinner cruises, so she had arrangements to make. The others washed up and changed into their working clothes.

Anne was the engineer and diesel mechanic – she had gone through her apprenticeship during an engine rebuild when she was 16. She wore blue-and-white pinstripe overalls, a Casey Jones hat made of the same material with her hair tucked up under it, a collarless checkered shirt and Navy-type boondocker shoes. Melissa and Angie were hostesses – they dressed out in hoop skirts, high-button shoes and broad-brimmed straw bonnets, with their hair done up in sausage curls. Josh and Jim were the deckhands. The guys were dressed like old-time riverboat crewmen – collarless striped pillow-ticking shirts, unbleached canvas trousers, boondocker shoes, cloth caps.

Anne’s grandfather was dressed as an old-time steamboat captain, with a neatly trimmed General Lee beard, scrambled eggs on the bill of his captain’s hat, and four gold rings on the cuffs of his navy frock coat. The real captain – Anne’s father – would spend the cruise out of sight in the pilot house. He wore khaki work clothes, shades and a long-billed cap that advertised a boatyard in Shreveport.

Anne’s mom came aboard with the caterers at 5:00. The passengers started arriving a little later – most of them were aboard by 6 PM. Anne cranked the engine, made her quick checks, then joined her brothers and the other girls at the bow.

Jim’s walkie-talkie crackled. “What’s the count?” Dad asked.

Angie checked some papers on a clipboard, then took the radio. “We’ve got 112 this trip, and they’re all here.”

“OK, cast off,” he said – Josh and Jim got to work.

“Ready to go,” Angie said. Dad double-keyed his radio in response and blew a long blast on the whistle. Proud Mary backed out into the river current, paddle wheels splashing, and got under way.

An hour into the trip, Anne came upstairs on the passenger deck. The passengers were having their dinner, so the crew had a little slack time. Josh and Jim leaned against the starboard rail, chatting with their grandfather and the two hostesses. Anne looked in on the dining area and saw the Righetti and Shaw families at a table: Brittany and her sisters Vicky and Veronica, Joanna and little sister Jamie, and their parents.

Joanna and Jamie were fair-skinned and freckled, the other women Mediterranean-looking, but there was a strong family resemblance – evidently some muscular genes in their bloodline. The two moms were twins too, still trim in their mid-40’s, just a little gray showing in their dark hair. Vicky and Veronica would look like this in 20 yrs or so.

Anne went to their table. “Hi, everybody,” she said. “Welcome aboard!”

“Hello, Anne,” Joanna’s mom said. “We’ve heard so much about this, we thought we’d give it a try.”

“Like it?”

“It’s fun,” Brittany’s mom said. “Good meal too. Just one thing wrong...”

“What?”

Mrs. Righetti grinned. “No pasta.”

Anne laughed. “Next time, give me a heads-up, and I’ll tell the caterers.”

The passengers started drifting out of the dining room, the caterers clearing tables as they left. Brittany and Joanna excused themselves and joined the crew members.

“Glad to have y’all aboard,” Anne said. “Enjoying the cruise?”

“Yah, good food and now good company,” Joanna said. “This is a pretty good operation.” She stifled a belch. “Sorry – I ate too much.”

“Joanna eats like a bird,” Brittany said. “Twice her body weight every day.” She poked Joanna in the ribs – the girl squeaked and jumped. “Never gains an ounce either – it’s not fair!”

“What can I say?” Joanna said. “I’m a healthy girl with an appetite to match. You just need more exercise – you ought to run with me.”

“Not much point in running if no one’s chasing you,” Brittany responded. “Hey, how ‘bout another friendly game of cards?” she continued. “Riverboat tradition, y’know.”

“No thanks,” Anne answered.

“Sure I can’t talk you into it?” Brittany asked with a sly smile.

“I don’t want to take the chance,” Anne said. “Anyway, I need to check the engine.”

Anne got back to work. An hour later, she took a break in the office on the main deck. Her grandfather came in right after, poured himself a cup of bad coffee and sprinkled a few grains of salt in it – “black-gang coffee”. Anne had done the same herself – the salt wasn’t enough to taste, but it gave the coffee a flat, oily taste that somehow killed the bitter tang.

“Hi, sweetheart,” the old man said. “Too bad we’re not still in Mississippi – we could get a casino boat license and hire your friend.”

“Brittany? She’s not a gambler,” Anne said. “She just plays for pennies on her lunch hour. Said she used to play with her grandfather when she was little.”

“Is that a fact?” he said, not convinced. “She’s playing Texas Hold-‘em on the hurricane deck right now. Doin’ pretty well for an amateur, too.”

“This I gotta see,” Anne said. “C’mon.”

Poker was popular again with American youth. Brittany hadn’t had any trouble finding other players, and had drawn a crowd of spectators besides – Joanna and the twins included. Anne didn’t know the others at the table – three guys in their late teens or early 20’s. They were playing for bottle caps. Brittany was ahead, but not by much.

“Good thing for those guys they’re not playing for money.” Grandpa said quietly.

Anne watched a few hands. The table conversation wasn’t at all what she expected – Brittany sounded like the perfect airhead. And when it was her turn to deal, she whistled that tune and annoyed everyone.

“This is weird,” Anne whispered to Grandpa after a few minutes. “She’s completely different.”

“Protective coloration – part of her act,” he whispered back. “She’s setting ‘em up.”

“You mean...”

“I mean, this ain’t a game of chance – that girl makes her own luck.”

Brittany’s deal. She picked up her cards, tossed a few bottle caps in the pot, matched by the others. Brittany raised – the others matched her again. Then ten more. One of the guys came up short – he threw down his cards, disgusted. “I’m out,” he said.

Brittany raised again, and the others folded. She scooped up the cards. Anne caught a look at the first guy’s cards – two pairs, aces and eight’s. Brittany’s hand was junk – bluffing!

Anne watched the next dozen or so hands. One of the other guys dropped out. The last guy had been ahead for a while, but Brittany had taken the last two pots and evened things up. Last hand...

“Show ‘em,” Brittany said. The guy had a busted flush. Brittany had two pairs – queens and jacks. Swords and diamonds.

“See what I mean?” Grandpa said as the spectators drifted away. “She was playing those guys. Count your fingers after you shake hands with that one.”

Melissa caught up with Anne and the old man near the stairs. “I saw you two watching. Brittany’s luck is pretty good, isn’t it?”

“And not just at poker,” Anne answered. “I think Brittany put the Jesse James on me today.”

Grandpa gave Anne a sharp look. “What happened?” he asked.

Anne told her story – the card game and the tickle torture. “D’you think she was cheating?” Anne asked at last.

He shook his head sadly. “Of course she was, sweetheart,” he said. “That tune she was whistling was Scott Joplin’s “Maple Leaf Rag”, from “The Sting”. It was her way of giving fair warning to anyone who had the wit to figure it out. Don’t you remember the movie?”

“Yah, a horse race swindle.”

“But the grifters set it up with a crooked poker game. When Brittany suggested a card game, she was sending you out to play in traffic. Learn anything from the experience?”

“Yah, don’t play cards with Brittany,” Anne said.

“I guess her sisters and Joanna learned that a long time ago,” Melissa said. “That’s why they weren’t at that table tonight.”

“Right the first time,” he said. “They know she’s a mechanic.”

“So how’d she do it?” Anne asked. “Michael said the cards weren’t marked.”

“Didn’t have to be,” Grandpa said. “C’mon, I’ll show you some things I learned in the Navy. Let’s find a new deck.”

They went to the office – Anne found a new deck in a cabinet. Grandpa slit the cellophane with his thumbnail and extracted the cards from the box. He discarded the jokers and junk cards, then turned the deck over and fanned it out.

“See how they’re arranged?” he asked. “By suit, in order. Now watch.”

Grandpa squared up the deck and shuffled twice. He turned the cards over and fanned them out again. Still in the original order!

“Those were false shuffles,” Grandpa said. “It isn’t hard to do. Just takes practice and dexterity – good thing my arthritis isn’t acting up. Now these are true shuffles.” He shuffled twice again and flipped the cards – random order this time. “See the difference?”

“No,” Anne confessed.

Grandpa snorted amusement. “Most other people don’t either. Especially if the card mechanic does something like this every so often.” He flubbed the shuffle – the cards scattered out in a disorderly pile.

“So how did she rig that game?” Anne asked.

Grandpa squared the deck again and handed it to Melissa. “Cut. Hold it!” Melissa froze.

“Most everybody cuts like that,” Grandpa said. “I could see the card at the bottom of the cut – the Five of Clubs. Here, finish the cut and give ‘em back.” He showed the bottom card, then put it back on the bottom. “Watch me,” he said, and shuffled again.

“Now look,” Grandpa said, and turned the top card over. “Five of Clubs. I palmed it and moved it up to the top of the deck, then false shuffled to keep it there. That’s why Brittany had you cut the cards, and had Michael cut ‘em one more time – so she’d know what two cards were on top.”

He turned the Five back over, dealt a card off the top and turned it face up – not the Five, but the Seven of Diamonds. Turned the next card on the deck over – the Five again. “She just had to hand ‘em out in the right order,” he said. “See, girls, there’s an old gambler’s joke: Bob whispers to Mike, look, Bill’s cheating. He’s dealing off the bottom of the deck. Mike whispers back, well why not, it’s his deal.”

Anne thought it over. “That could get you shot,” she said at last.

“Almost did, a time or two,” he said. He laid the cards aside. “Let’s get back to work. Melissa, if Anne’s mom wants to know why you weren’t working topside, tell her I had you down here sorting supplies.” He considered briefly. “That’s even true, in a way – I must be slipping.”

They were back at the dock by 10 PM. Anne went to the engine room after they tied up and started the engine shutdown sequence. She updated the engine log while it was idling, cooling off. She stayed a few minutes after it stopped to clean up after some minor oil leaks. Keeping an engine room clean isn’t hard if you stay after it, she thought. But tomorrow was time enough to fix the leaks.

The other girls had already finished in the dressing room when Anne got there. She changed back into her shorts and t-shirt, stepped into her sandals and went looking for them. The cleaning crew was already hard at work. Anne approached their boss.

“Hi, Mrs. Mendoza,” Anne said. “I’m looking for the rest of the crew.”

“Your parents and grandfather are gone,” the woman said. “The others are on the hurricane deck, I think.”

Female laughter! Melissa was on her tummy on the deck, with Angie sitting on her facing aft. Angie looked a little rumpled – she had Melissa’s legs trapped in the figure-four leg lock, covering Melissa’s upturned feet with tiny nail flicks. It must tickle like crazy – Melissa was laughing her head off.

“Hi, sis!” Jim said. “You’re just in time – Angie’s about finished.”

“Melissa challenged Angie to a duel,” Josh said. “Double forfeit – 10 minutes of tickle torture instead of 5. Said she wanted to get even.”

“You can see how that came out,” Jim added.

Not too well for Melissa, obviously – she was laughing like a madwoman.

“No contest really,” Jim said. “Angie played her, even quit tickling like she lost, then started back and finished her off.”

“Cost me a buck,” Josh grumbled good-naturedly. “I guess I need to give Melissa more training.”

Everybody laughed, but Melissa loudest of all – Angie was concentrating on Melissa’s arches and heels where it tickled unbearably. Angie speeded up, and Melissa’s laughter went off the charts. She lost it and laughed herself breathless.

Angie dismounted and sat back on her heels. Melissa rolled over and shuffled her feet to get the tickle off. She sat up, winced, and blotted tears on her collar.

“Hi, Anne,” Angie said. “Care to take me on again?”

That’s it, thought Anne with a flash of inspiration. I had Brittany begging for mercy once, and Alex Budanov too – both of them at the same time. That’s how I’ll get even. There’s no way Brittany could win a Tickling Death Match!

“Brittany set me up and beat me playing cards, then tickled the shit out of me.” Briefly, Anne explained what Grandpa had said. “But Brittany’s pretty ticklish – I can beat her in a Death Match.”

“I’d like to see that,” Angie said.

“Me too – Brittany deserves it,” Melissa said. “Call her tomorrow morning to set it up, for a forfeit of... maybe 30 minutes worth?”

Anne grinned an evil grin. “I could do with some practice. OK, Angie, you’re on.”

***

“A what?” Brittany asked suspiciously. Angie and Melissa were listening in on another phone – Anne stifled a giggle.

“Tickling Death Match,” Anne said. “Foot tickling duel. You against me. Loser pays a forfeit.”

“Why don’t we just cut cards for it instead?” Brittany asked.

Anne snorted. “Not a chance. And I wouldn’t have, the way you’d work it.”

“Busted!” Brittany said cheerfully. “OK, a duel it is. What’s the forfeit?”

“How about 30 minutes of tickle torture?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brittany said. “Let’s do it on neutral ground – the clearing in the Hundred Acre Wood. And we’ll each bring two seconds to keep it honest.”

“OK. See you in... half an hour?”

“Works for me,” Brittany said. “And I hope you’re ready to laugh – I’m gonna go medieval on you!”

Anne hung up. Angie hung up the other phone and the three girls gathered in the living room. They were grinning ear to ear.

“Did you hear what she said?” Angie asked. “She’s pretty cocky.”

“She’s gonna be candy,” Anne said. “Maybe y’all can make a side bet, and we can tickle her seconds too.”

“I like the way you think,” Angie said, grinning. “Wonder who she’ll bring?”

“Joanna probably,” Melissa said. “Maybe Alex Budanov too – they’re pretty good friends. Want to warm up before we go?” Melissa sat on the couch and turned sideways. “Sit down and tickle my foot – Brittany’s sweet spot’s the same as mine. Angie, grab my wrists.”

Angie and Anne did so, and Anne grabbed Melissa’s ankle. Anne flicked her nails on the sole of the trapped foot – Melissa burst into helpless laughter. Anne spider-walked her nails down Melissa’s arch, scrabbled her nails on the heel while Melissa laughed like a maniac. Melissa laughed wildly as Anne drew circles, squares and other tickling shapes on her heel and arch. Then tickling in the arch, just in front of the heel, and Melissa laughed her head off.

Anne quit. “How was that?” she asked.

Melissa blinked away tears of laughter and rubbed her foot. “You’ll do fine,” she said. “C’mon, let’s go.”

All three girls were wearing Proud Mary t-shirts and jeans shorts. They found their sandals, crossed the street to Melissa’s house, jumped the back fence and headed into the woods to the north.

The wooded area was hilly, rocky, heavily overgrown with second growth forest. They came to a trail a few yards in and followed it eastward toward Owl Creek. The trail forked just short of the creek, and they turned left, paralleling the creek. The creekside trail forked again, and again they 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. There had been a cabin here a long time ago – the stones were the remains of the fireplace and chimney. They found a shady spot on the edge of the clearing and sat down to wait.

They didn’t wait long. Brittany showed up a few minutes later. Anne was a little surprised to see that she had brought the twins as her seconds – Vicky and Veronica were Jedi Masters of tickling, and Brittany got more than her share of it from them. The sisters were in jeans shorts and t-shirts too – Brittany’s black with a white Jolly Roger, the twins’ pink with Double Trouble printed on them. One of the twins carried a canvas tote. It gurgled – soft drinks or bottled water in it.

Brittany kicked off her sandals. “Any side bets? Lay yer money down, ladies and germs!” she said, wiggling her dark brows and flicking ash off an imaginary cigar.

“Let’s all get in on the fun,” Melissa said. “If you win, you and your sisters get to tickle all three of us. If Anne wins, we’re all gonna tickle you silly.”

Brittany considered. “For 30 minutes each? Can’t do it – I’ve got to go to work in an hour.”

She’s hedging, thought Anne. She’s not sure of herself. This might be easier than I thought...

“No, we’ll split the 30 minutes,” Angie said. “Three of us, three of you – 10 minutes each.”

Brittany looked to her sisters. The twins exchanged a look, and some silent communication passed between them. They looked back to Brittany and nodded.

“Deal. Let’s do it,” Brittany said.

They sat facing each other. Each girl extended her right leg, drew up the left with her left foot flat against her right thigh, and got a firm grip on the other’s right ankle with her left hand.

“Ready?” Angie asked.

Brittany grinned. “I was born ready. Bring it on!”

“OK,” Anne said. You’re in for a surprise, she thought – you set yourself up for this one, and your sisters too.

“On three,” Vicky said. “One, two, three, GO!”

Both girls flicked the nails of their right hands on the bottom of her opponent’s trapped foot, fast as they could. Both burst into ticklish laughter, and may the best girl win! Both of them knew their opponent’s best tickle spot, and tickled it mercilessly. Both laughed like mad, red faced, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

Anne speeded up, concentrating on Brittany’s arch and heel, and Brittany’s laughter went up a notch – she almost lost it, and Anne’s laughter dropped back to giggles. But Brittany shifted her tickle target onto Anne’s heel and dug in, and now Anne was laughing her head off again. They both laughed like madwomen, tickling as fast as they could, as time expanded and the tickling filled their consciousness.

“Anne’s better than we thought,” Anne heard Vicky say through her own ticklish laughter. Anne was having the same thought about Brittany. Maybe this wasn’t such a sure thing after all.

“Give ‘em a breather and then let ‘em start back,” Veronica suggested. “Agreed?”

“On three again,” Angie said, and walked over to stand beside Anne, facing Veronica across the extended legs.

“One, two, three, STOP,” Melissa said. Angie grabbed Anne’s tickling hand, Veronica grabbed Brittany’s. Both girls giggled as the tickling sensation faded.

“Gimme... a drink...” Brittany gasped. “Ghod, that tickled!”

“Got one... for me...?” Anne said, taking deep breaths. She was actually feeling pretty good – the laughter had released a flood of endorphins – and she seemed to be in better condition than Brittany. Maybe this would work out after all, she thought.

Vicky handed each girl a bottle of water – they drained them in three long gulps.

Brittany belched and tossed her bottle aside. “Woo! I needed that! Do the second round left-handed?”

“Fine with me,” Anne answered. “My fingers were getting tired too.”

They resumed their tickling positions, left legs extended and left hands poised this time.

“Ready?” Vicky said. “Wait for it– one, two, three, GO!”

Both girls got to work, tickling as fast as they could. Both howled with forced mirth, laughing at the top of their lungs. It was a straightforward contest of endurance. They were evenly matched – they both knew every ticklish spot, and tickled them all. Neither tried for anything fancy – their tickling fingernails flicked and scratched, each covering the other’s foot with unbearable tickling as they filled the air with their sweet ticklish laughter.

Brittany tickled Anne’s heel, Anne attacked Brittany’s arch and heel. Anne swayed, eyes closed, her whole being was concentrated on keeping her fingers going. Both girls laughed their heads off, eyes closed, tears streaming down their cheeks. Was Brittany losing it? She was laughing harder, and Anne’s laughter had gone down a notch. But Brittany found the rhythm again, and Anne’s laughter went off the scale. Anne hung on, tickling fiendishly, forcing wave after wave of ticklish laughter from Brittany. Anne had her... it was just a matter of time...

Anne lost it and collapsed onto her back, laughing at the top of her lungs. Her strength was gone, tickled away.

Brittany giggled, then got down to business as fine motor control returned. She tickled Anne’s heel mercilessly, bringing forth a solid stream of ticklish laughter.

“I’ll... be... damned!” Melissa said, deflated. “You’ve won, Brittany! Give her a break!”

“Oh, all right,” Brittany replied. She eased off a little, flicking and scratching from sole to heel, producing a steady stream of girlish giggles.

“Haha! Sta– hahaha! –ap! Brittanee– hehe! You– hehe-haha! win! Haha-hehe-hahaha!” Anne begged and giggled.

Brittany quit and released Anne’s foot. “You’re better than I thought, and tougher too,” she said. “For a while there, I thought I was had.”

Anne drew her knees up and laid there gasping. “That… really… tickled,” she said. She shuffled her feet on the grass to get the tickle off, then sat up. “Somehow, you made the other foot tickle too. How’d you do that?”

“Years of practice,” Brittany said, and brushed her long hair back out of her face. “Ask my sisters.”

“She wasn’t always on the receiving end,” Veronica said. “In fact, she’s about as good at tickling feet as I am.”

“And that’s saying something,” Vicky added. “Did it all on her own, too. Of course, we helped her build up her endurance.”

“That’s for sure,” Brittany said. “Every Saturday morning, ever since we were little kids, and lots of other times too. Sometimes I thought you were gonna tickle me to death.”

“Hey, what are sisters for?” Veronica said. “You did good, Little Sis. We owe you one.”

“And I’m gonna enjoy collecting it, too.” She looked over at Anne. “We had our own side bet – I’m gonna tickle ‘em ‘til they don’t know their own names. And speaking of which...”

“Better tie us up,” Anne said glumly.

There was more than just water in the tote bag – Brittany dumped it and retrieved a kitchen timer. Some implements – a hair brush, an old-fashioned badger-bristle shaving brush and suchlike – went back into the tote. Brittany picked up a handful of torn nylons, gave some to her sisters. A house full of women produces plenty of the things – the Righetti girls put them to good use. Anne and her friends ended up hogtied, with Anne in the middle, Melissa to her left and Angie to her right.

“OK, here’s how we’ll do it,” Brittany said. “Vicky, see what you can do with Melissa.”

Vicky kneeled facing Melissa’s upturned feet and put a knee on either side of Melissa’s to prevent a rollover.

“Veronica, you’re the second-best tickler here...” Brittany continued. Veronica scowled.

“Well, we’ll settle which of us is the best some other time,” Brittany said. “Anyway, you tickle Angie and find the sweet spot. Save the rest of us some time later.” Veronica nodded and took position at Angie’s feet.

Brittany kneeled behind Anne. “And I’ll start on Anne. We’ll go 10 minutes each, then switch.”

Vicky started first, flicking her well-manicured nails in Melissa’s arches and onto her heels – Melissa bucked and squirmed, laughing at the top of her lungs. Veronica joined in, holding back Angie’s toes and scratching the soft skin underneath – Angie’s laughter went off the scale.

“Either Angie’s super-ticklish, or I just found the sweet spot,” Veronica observed. She tickled onto the stretched out soles, then down to the heels, and the laughter went down a notch. “Nope, that’s it – under her toes,” Veronica said. She tickled side to side under all ten toes, and Angie went wild, laughing helplessly, trying desperately to pull her feet away.

“Hey Brittany, what are you waiting for?” Vicky asked. She didn’t have her sisters’ foot tickling skill, but she could hold her own. Melissa laughed and laughed, eyes closed, tears running down her cheeks. She wasn’t struggling any more – the tickling had completely overcome her.

“Just enjoying the show,” Brittany said. “I like watching artists at work.” To Anne: “Ready to laugh?” she asked sweetly.

Anne mentally kicked herself. “Go ahe–eep! Hehe! HAHAHA-HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!” I outsmarted myself – I set myself up for this, and my friends too, Anne thought as she laughed herself silly.

Brittany attacked Anne’s ticklish heels – she knew exactly where it tickled worst. Anne bucked violently, squirming and struggling and laughing her head off at the top of her lungs. Brittany’s fingernails flicked and scratched, tickling horribly. She got on Anne’s left sole, across the balls of both feet, then the right sole, and back again, over and over, tickling Anne to the edge of madness.

“You started this, Anne,” Brittany said. “You thought you were gonna tickle the shit out of us, didn’t you?” Anne laughed like mad as Brittany tickled her soles at warp speed, watching the toes twitch and curl. “You just think I tickled you silly yesterday – wait ‘til we’re through with you today!” Brittany flicked her nails on Anne’s heels with a motion like chording a guitar. Anne laughed helplessly, laughing at the top of her lungs.

“I’m not gonna let you zone out either,” Brittany said. She carefully tickled between each pair of toes, forcing another wild burst of laughter each time. “That’s too easy – you wouldn’t feel the tickling near as much as you could.” Anne laughed her head off as Brittany held her toes back and tickled side to side on the soft skin underneath. “Does this tickle, girlfriend?” But Anne was laughing much too hard to answer. She had quit struggling. All she could do was lay there and laugh – and laugh – and laugh some more.

“They sing pretty well, don’t they?” Brittany asked.

“Beautiful voices,” Vicky agreed, as Anne and her friends laughed in three-part harmony.

This is just the first round, Anne thought despairingly as she laughed like mad – she had a long, long time yet to go. And Brittany had uncommon tickling skill – as good as Veronica, and that was very good indeed.

Brittany made a claw of her right hand and raked her fingernails down Anne’s right foot, toes to heel, drawing four fast parallel zigzag lines and applying just enough pressure to tickle horribly. She repeated the whole-foot tickle, alternating between both feet, and and laughter poured out of Anne like a flood. She played Anne like a musical instrument, getting great reactions and forcing stream after stream of helpless laughter.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Brittany continued. She tickled Anne’s heels two-handed, fingernails flying – four nail strokes in succession, three times per second from each hand. Anne was in the zone now, laughing helplessly, unable to move as the tickle torture filled her universe.

Yah, thought Anne, laughing wildly, red-faced and sweaty, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. Some distant part of her heard her friends laughing beside her, their sweet laughter filling the air. Three lessons, in fact. Things are not always as they appear, and There’s no such thing as a sure thing, and chief among them, TRUST NO ONE.


***THE END***



Edited 7 Sept 05 – Typos corrected, I hope...​