laughter_n_love
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Diary of a Foot Tickling Addict, Journal Entry #6
Hey Journal. I learned a few things about my charm today. One was a valuable lesson in how it operates, and the other is in regards to its potency. Let's just say that I have new respect for this little wonder around my neck.
As I mentioned in my last journal entry, I had just spotted a knockout exiting the Chalice and stand waiting by the curb. You would think that as tired as I was, and with all the recent foot tickling I'd enjoyed in the last two days, I'd pass on this potential opportunity. You'd be wrong.
I rushed out of the lobby to catch up with her before she ducked into a cab, and as I did so, the blinding sun struck me square in the face. Disoriented and groggy, it's no wonder that I plowed right into her, knocking the two of us to the pavement.
"Oooooomphhh!" was all I remember her saying.
I got to my feet and started profusely apologizing. She appeared to be uninjured, but she was furious with me nonetheless. She declined my offer to help her to her feet, and glared at me with hatred in her eyes as she dusted herself off. As I said I was sorry for about the eighth time, she halted me with curt, "Whatever", and a slight wave of the hand. I was dismissed.
This creature was beyond gorgeous. Her long blonde hair was in stark contrast to the outfit she wore, which was a sharp navy blue business suit. I don't know what it is about a woman dressed in professional attire, but I'm just a sucker for those types. The blazer she wore tried but failed to hide her most feminine curves, and the matching skirt ended just past the knee, giving way black nylons that disappeared into black pumps. She had been wearing sunglasses
until I'd knocked them from her, and I caught a glance at her sensual catlike green eyes before she'd put them back on. Her makeup and hair were perfect, despite our collision, and she smelled heavenly. I'd guess she was in her mid to late twenties. Her manicured hands clutched at a briefcase, which I was glad had not popped open and spilled it's contents all over the sidewalk when she hit the ground. At once I figured her to be an out of towner here on business. She reminded me of Kelly Preston.
The old Chinese man had told me that the little charm I wore around my neck would give me what I desired most in my heart. And wow had it delivered. The past two days had been filled with beautiful women of all ages yielding their bare feet to me for tickle torturing. The cute Chinese shop girl, the seductive model-type in the red dress, Darla, the waitress with the pudgy feet, Tanya, the mature and professional Assistant Manager, Maureen, and the two girls who tickled each other, Amanda and Lacey. Not only did the charm know what I wanted, but it also delivered in grand style. All the women had been babes, and all of them had been delightfully ticklish. And here I was, face to face with maybe the best looking one yet, ready for more. I really had to hand it to my little charm.
Except the charm wasn't warm against my skin. In fact, it was ice cold.
A taxi pulled up to the curb, and the woman made to get in. My charm was going to let her get away. I was on my own here.
"Uh, do you mind if we share this cab? It's my treat." I couldn't believe the charm was hanging me out to dry like this.
"That's not necessary," she said coldly. She was already in the cab, waiting for me to unblock the door so she could close it.
"Please. Let me make it up to you. Please." Should I have let her go and chalked this one up in the "ones-that-got-away" column? Probably. But I was dying to get a crack at those hidden feet of hers. This is how it is when you are a foot tickling addict like me.
She paused, and finally relented. "All right. Get in."
I slid in beside her, and we both told the cab driver where we were headed. The cabbie kind of looked at me funny in the rear view mirror, as my destination was nowhere near where this woman was headed. He knew that, and I knew that, but she didn't know that. I gave him a look that said, "Mind your own business" as we pulled away from the curb.
"Thanks for letting me do this," I said. I had no lines. I had no material. My charm had been doing all the work. I was a chump without it.
"That's fine," she said, looking everywhere but at me. I couldn't stop looking at her legs.
This wasn't good. There was no way I was getting a crack at those feet of hers like this. Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe she wasn't ticklish. Maybe that was why my charm was stone cold around my neck. Maybe it knew that this one wasn't our type.
It was rush hour in the city this morning, so that was in my favor. The cab must have stopped at every light, so while this trip was going to cost me a small fortune, at least I still had time to salvage something here.
"Ummm...I like your shoes." God was I lame.
She rolled her eyes at me (the sunglasses hid most of it, but I could still tell), thinking that I must be some kind of foot pervert, which was basically true. I was crashing and burning fast here.
I turned away from her, unsure of what to do. Without my charm backing me up, I had no chance here. I caught a glimpse of the cab driver chuckling at me. Great. Not only was I going to fail, but I was going to get laughed at in the process.
I was ready to concede defeat. I had forced the issue with this one, and it had backfired in my face. Apparently I still had a lot to learn about my charm.
As I turned to gaze out the window, it started to heat up. Inwardly, I smiled to myself. "Ahhhhh", I thought. My charm does not like to be forced. It likes to make the rules. Then it grew cold again. And then warm again. I was puzzled.
I turned back to the woman sitting beside me, and she was giving me a funny look from behind the sunglasses. Without being able to see her eyes, I really couldn't tell what she was thinking, but it looked like a cross between curiosity and confusion. Was my charm working on her?
"You said you like my shoes?"
I had said that like two minutes ago, but as it was the last words spoken between us, I guess the question was still relevant.
"Yes, I do."
She looked at me in silence, as if trying to decide how to proceed. My charm continued alternate between warm and cold, warm and cold. At once I understood. Her anger and detestment towards me was battling with the power of my charm. My charm fought to capture her mind while she resisted. Neither was clearly in control. I was fascinated by the battle that only I knew was taking place.
Finally she spoke again, her tone quite softened, "Would you like to take them off me?"
"I would love to take them off you," I replied. My charm maintained it's warmth long enough for her to swing around and place her legs on my lap. Then next moment it cooled again and she regained her faculties.
"What the hell are you doing???" she asked tensely, incredulous at seeing her legs on my lap.
I noticed the change, and was unsure as how to respond. I was afraid of getting slapped or kicked. The cab driver was taking an interest in our conversation as well.
Then the charm reasserted itself, and she relaxed again, and began popping her heels out of her shoes for me. I uttered no words, but simply helped her finish the job. Soon her black nylon covered feet lay naked in my lap. Size 7 I'd guess.
As much as I wanted to tickle those feet, I was more interested in seeing where this was going. I quickly decided that if the charm should fail to work on her, and she 'woke up' to find her feet in my lap, I would claim that I was giving her a foot massage.
My charm and she continued to wage war. I could tell that she seemed to be weakening, while my charm seemed to be consistently warm. I had no idea of the power of my charm, or what it really did to these women, but apparently, it did not tire or take kindly to losing. As far as I could remember, this was the first time it had been really challenged, and it sure looked like it was going to win.
My charm maintained a steady warm feeling, and a smile crossed her beautiful lips for the first time. "Well?" she asked sweetly.
"Well what?"
"Well aren't you going to tickle my feet?" she asked matter-of-factly in that same sweet voice. The cab driver jerked, tossing us about a bit in the back seat.
I grinned. My charm had overpowered her. We were victorious.
"Of course I am," I said, as if this were obvious. The cab jerked again. I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw the cabbie straining to watch us. I figured he might be a foot tickling guy too. I gave him a little wink and nod.
Enough time had been wasted already, so I set right to work. Pinning both of her petite ankles to my lap with one hand, I played the fingertips of my other along her waiting soles. She gurgled and jumped at my touch, and what followed could best be described as a symphony of sweet giggles. She did her best to cover her mouth with her hand and hold onto the cab with the other as I playfully scratched her foot bottoms. The cab ride became dangerous as our driver paid more attention to the action in the back seat than he did to the road.
Her feet fought frantically to evade my fingers, but I had too much recent practice at this to let her get away. Her unpainted toes curled and flexed nicely, and the sound her nylon covered feet made as they brushed up against each other in protest was pleasing to my ears. Kind of a swishing sound, I'd say. Her feet were neither long nor short, on the narrow side, and obviously quite ticklish. She was a giggling puddle of goo from the first contact of my nails.
She'd made me work at this, more than I would have liked, so I felt like making her suffer for it. "Is this what you wanted? A little tickletickletickle? A little kitchykitchykitchy on your feetsiesfeetsiesfeetsies?"
She yelped and thrashed on the other side of the back seat at my taunting. Her arms were flailing about striking the seat and the back of the cage separating us from the driver. Her giggling gave way to hearty laughter, and while she fought like hell to free her ankles, she really seemed to be enjoying this torture. There was no begging for me to stop, no attempt to pull my hands away, and no cries for help. She was in ticklish agony and loving it.
The cabbie seemed to try and catch the red lights as we traveled. He was really interested in seeing what was going on back where we were. Once he said, "Hey, don't bust up the cab!" when her spasming got too violent, but he wasn't the least bit interested in stopping what we were doing. I'm guessing he was wishing he was helping.
At one red light, I caught the driver of another car, an old woman, staring incredulously at the scene being played out in our car. I can't imagine what she must have thought was going on. All she could see was the back of the head of a woman pitching a fit while a man looked down at his own lap. I laughed at what she must have been thinking.
The ridge under her toes seemed particularly sensitive, so I attacked those spots. She deteriorated into silent laughter. The fight had been tickled out of her, and she simply shook in her seat, unable to do more than twitch her feet. As my charm had conquered her brain, I had conquered her will.
"Hey, what happened?" yelled the cabbie.
"Silent laughter, buddy," I answered with a smile. I heard him chuckle in the front seat. I half expected to hear him say something like, "atta boy!"
The ride to where she was headed last another five or six minutes or so. It was spent entirely with me torturing her feet non-stop. I've never really been into nylons, but I must say, the past few days has convinced me that the definitely add to ticklishness. I guess it's the slipperiness that they add to the touch that makes it tickle more. All I know for sure is my fingers skated and flew over her soles, and she was a wreck because of it.
Finally the cab came to a halt in front of the office building where she was headed. Her hair was a mess. Her suit was wrinkled. Her makeup was no longer perfect from a combination of watery eyes and raised body temperature. She still looked great, just not as pristine as when I decked her on the street.
I let her ankles go and put her shoes back on her feet. She was limp in the seat, still giggling without sound to herself. I sat quietly, thankful that my charm remained warm.
"Here ya go, lady, unless you want me to keep going so he can tickle ya more," the cabbie said, turning to us in the back. I laughed despite myself.
She turned her sunglassed eyes to me and smiled. "I'd love to keep going, but I have a meeting to get to." She opened the door and hopped out of the cab, but before she closed the door and left my life forever, she scribbled something on a business card and tossed it at me. She blew a kiss my way and then turned and headed into the building.
I held up the card and looked at it. Mary Jacobs. The scribbling was a phone number.
"I gotta hand it to ya, pal," the cabbie was saying to me. "I didn't think you had a shot in hell with that dame."
"I had a little help," was all I said. I could tell he wanted to talk more about it, but I didn't feel like sharing my secret with him. He was cool, though, and charged me only a fraction of the real fare when he dropped me off at my place. I guess it pays to entertain your cab driver.
I went up to my ratty apartment and crashed for a few hours. I'm really going to have to get used to this working at night thing. Luckily, I don't have to work tonight. As I sit here on my bed, writing this, I'm trying to decide what I should do with my Friday evening. I might hit one of the clubs in town and see what my charm throws my way. I might give my ex-girlfriend Rebecca a call. She's the one that never let me tickle her, I think because she knew how much I really wanted to. Who knows what my charm might let me do with her. Or I might give Miss Mary Jacobs a call. I can't say that I wouldn't enjoy another crack at her either. Or maybe I'll just play it by ear. The possibilities are endless.
I'll write again after my next adventure. I'm sure it won't be long in coming.
End of Journal Entry #6
Hey Journal. I learned a few things about my charm today. One was a valuable lesson in how it operates, and the other is in regards to its potency. Let's just say that I have new respect for this little wonder around my neck.
As I mentioned in my last journal entry, I had just spotted a knockout exiting the Chalice and stand waiting by the curb. You would think that as tired as I was, and with all the recent foot tickling I'd enjoyed in the last two days, I'd pass on this potential opportunity. You'd be wrong.
I rushed out of the lobby to catch up with her before she ducked into a cab, and as I did so, the blinding sun struck me square in the face. Disoriented and groggy, it's no wonder that I plowed right into her, knocking the two of us to the pavement.
"Oooooomphhh!" was all I remember her saying.
I got to my feet and started profusely apologizing. She appeared to be uninjured, but she was furious with me nonetheless. She declined my offer to help her to her feet, and glared at me with hatred in her eyes as she dusted herself off. As I said I was sorry for about the eighth time, she halted me with curt, "Whatever", and a slight wave of the hand. I was dismissed.
This creature was beyond gorgeous. Her long blonde hair was in stark contrast to the outfit she wore, which was a sharp navy blue business suit. I don't know what it is about a woman dressed in professional attire, but I'm just a sucker for those types. The blazer she wore tried but failed to hide her most feminine curves, and the matching skirt ended just past the knee, giving way black nylons that disappeared into black pumps. She had been wearing sunglasses
until I'd knocked them from her, and I caught a glance at her sensual catlike green eyes before she'd put them back on. Her makeup and hair were perfect, despite our collision, and she smelled heavenly. I'd guess she was in her mid to late twenties. Her manicured hands clutched at a briefcase, which I was glad had not popped open and spilled it's contents all over the sidewalk when she hit the ground. At once I figured her to be an out of towner here on business. She reminded me of Kelly Preston.
The old Chinese man had told me that the little charm I wore around my neck would give me what I desired most in my heart. And wow had it delivered. The past two days had been filled with beautiful women of all ages yielding their bare feet to me for tickle torturing. The cute Chinese shop girl, the seductive model-type in the red dress, Darla, the waitress with the pudgy feet, Tanya, the mature and professional Assistant Manager, Maureen, and the two girls who tickled each other, Amanda and Lacey. Not only did the charm know what I wanted, but it also delivered in grand style. All the women had been babes, and all of them had been delightfully ticklish. And here I was, face to face with maybe the best looking one yet, ready for more. I really had to hand it to my little charm.
Except the charm wasn't warm against my skin. In fact, it was ice cold.
A taxi pulled up to the curb, and the woman made to get in. My charm was going to let her get away. I was on my own here.
"Uh, do you mind if we share this cab? It's my treat." I couldn't believe the charm was hanging me out to dry like this.
"That's not necessary," she said coldly. She was already in the cab, waiting for me to unblock the door so she could close it.
"Please. Let me make it up to you. Please." Should I have let her go and chalked this one up in the "ones-that-got-away" column? Probably. But I was dying to get a crack at those hidden feet of hers. This is how it is when you are a foot tickling addict like me.
She paused, and finally relented. "All right. Get in."
I slid in beside her, and we both told the cab driver where we were headed. The cabbie kind of looked at me funny in the rear view mirror, as my destination was nowhere near where this woman was headed. He knew that, and I knew that, but she didn't know that. I gave him a look that said, "Mind your own business" as we pulled away from the curb.
"Thanks for letting me do this," I said. I had no lines. I had no material. My charm had been doing all the work. I was a chump without it.
"That's fine," she said, looking everywhere but at me. I couldn't stop looking at her legs.
This wasn't good. There was no way I was getting a crack at those feet of hers like this. Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe she wasn't ticklish. Maybe that was why my charm was stone cold around my neck. Maybe it knew that this one wasn't our type.
It was rush hour in the city this morning, so that was in my favor. The cab must have stopped at every light, so while this trip was going to cost me a small fortune, at least I still had time to salvage something here.
"Ummm...I like your shoes." God was I lame.
She rolled her eyes at me (the sunglasses hid most of it, but I could still tell), thinking that I must be some kind of foot pervert, which was basically true. I was crashing and burning fast here.
I turned away from her, unsure of what to do. Without my charm backing me up, I had no chance here. I caught a glimpse of the cab driver chuckling at me. Great. Not only was I going to fail, but I was going to get laughed at in the process.
I was ready to concede defeat. I had forced the issue with this one, and it had backfired in my face. Apparently I still had a lot to learn about my charm.
As I turned to gaze out the window, it started to heat up. Inwardly, I smiled to myself. "Ahhhhh", I thought. My charm does not like to be forced. It likes to make the rules. Then it grew cold again. And then warm again. I was puzzled.
I turned back to the woman sitting beside me, and she was giving me a funny look from behind the sunglasses. Without being able to see her eyes, I really couldn't tell what she was thinking, but it looked like a cross between curiosity and confusion. Was my charm working on her?
"You said you like my shoes?"
I had said that like two minutes ago, but as it was the last words spoken between us, I guess the question was still relevant.
"Yes, I do."
She looked at me in silence, as if trying to decide how to proceed. My charm continued alternate between warm and cold, warm and cold. At once I understood. Her anger and detestment towards me was battling with the power of my charm. My charm fought to capture her mind while she resisted. Neither was clearly in control. I was fascinated by the battle that only I knew was taking place.
Finally she spoke again, her tone quite softened, "Would you like to take them off me?"
"I would love to take them off you," I replied. My charm maintained it's warmth long enough for her to swing around and place her legs on my lap. Then next moment it cooled again and she regained her faculties.
"What the hell are you doing???" she asked tensely, incredulous at seeing her legs on my lap.
I noticed the change, and was unsure as how to respond. I was afraid of getting slapped or kicked. The cab driver was taking an interest in our conversation as well.
Then the charm reasserted itself, and she relaxed again, and began popping her heels out of her shoes for me. I uttered no words, but simply helped her finish the job. Soon her black nylon covered feet lay naked in my lap. Size 7 I'd guess.
As much as I wanted to tickle those feet, I was more interested in seeing where this was going. I quickly decided that if the charm should fail to work on her, and she 'woke up' to find her feet in my lap, I would claim that I was giving her a foot massage.
My charm and she continued to wage war. I could tell that she seemed to be weakening, while my charm seemed to be consistently warm. I had no idea of the power of my charm, or what it really did to these women, but apparently, it did not tire or take kindly to losing. As far as I could remember, this was the first time it had been really challenged, and it sure looked like it was going to win.
My charm maintained a steady warm feeling, and a smile crossed her beautiful lips for the first time. "Well?" she asked sweetly.
"Well what?"
"Well aren't you going to tickle my feet?" she asked matter-of-factly in that same sweet voice. The cab driver jerked, tossing us about a bit in the back seat.
I grinned. My charm had overpowered her. We were victorious.
"Of course I am," I said, as if this were obvious. The cab jerked again. I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw the cabbie straining to watch us. I figured he might be a foot tickling guy too. I gave him a little wink and nod.
Enough time had been wasted already, so I set right to work. Pinning both of her petite ankles to my lap with one hand, I played the fingertips of my other along her waiting soles. She gurgled and jumped at my touch, and what followed could best be described as a symphony of sweet giggles. She did her best to cover her mouth with her hand and hold onto the cab with the other as I playfully scratched her foot bottoms. The cab ride became dangerous as our driver paid more attention to the action in the back seat than he did to the road.
Her feet fought frantically to evade my fingers, but I had too much recent practice at this to let her get away. Her unpainted toes curled and flexed nicely, and the sound her nylon covered feet made as they brushed up against each other in protest was pleasing to my ears. Kind of a swishing sound, I'd say. Her feet were neither long nor short, on the narrow side, and obviously quite ticklish. She was a giggling puddle of goo from the first contact of my nails.
She'd made me work at this, more than I would have liked, so I felt like making her suffer for it. "Is this what you wanted? A little tickletickletickle? A little kitchykitchykitchy on your feetsiesfeetsiesfeetsies?"
She yelped and thrashed on the other side of the back seat at my taunting. Her arms were flailing about striking the seat and the back of the cage separating us from the driver. Her giggling gave way to hearty laughter, and while she fought like hell to free her ankles, she really seemed to be enjoying this torture. There was no begging for me to stop, no attempt to pull my hands away, and no cries for help. She was in ticklish agony and loving it.
The cabbie seemed to try and catch the red lights as we traveled. He was really interested in seeing what was going on back where we were. Once he said, "Hey, don't bust up the cab!" when her spasming got too violent, but he wasn't the least bit interested in stopping what we were doing. I'm guessing he was wishing he was helping.
At one red light, I caught the driver of another car, an old woman, staring incredulously at the scene being played out in our car. I can't imagine what she must have thought was going on. All she could see was the back of the head of a woman pitching a fit while a man looked down at his own lap. I laughed at what she must have been thinking.
The ridge under her toes seemed particularly sensitive, so I attacked those spots. She deteriorated into silent laughter. The fight had been tickled out of her, and she simply shook in her seat, unable to do more than twitch her feet. As my charm had conquered her brain, I had conquered her will.
"Hey, what happened?" yelled the cabbie.
"Silent laughter, buddy," I answered with a smile. I heard him chuckle in the front seat. I half expected to hear him say something like, "atta boy!"
The ride to where she was headed last another five or six minutes or so. It was spent entirely with me torturing her feet non-stop. I've never really been into nylons, but I must say, the past few days has convinced me that the definitely add to ticklishness. I guess it's the slipperiness that they add to the touch that makes it tickle more. All I know for sure is my fingers skated and flew over her soles, and she was a wreck because of it.
Finally the cab came to a halt in front of the office building where she was headed. Her hair was a mess. Her suit was wrinkled. Her makeup was no longer perfect from a combination of watery eyes and raised body temperature. She still looked great, just not as pristine as when I decked her on the street.
I let her ankles go and put her shoes back on her feet. She was limp in the seat, still giggling without sound to herself. I sat quietly, thankful that my charm remained warm.
"Here ya go, lady, unless you want me to keep going so he can tickle ya more," the cabbie said, turning to us in the back. I laughed despite myself.
She turned her sunglassed eyes to me and smiled. "I'd love to keep going, but I have a meeting to get to." She opened the door and hopped out of the cab, but before she closed the door and left my life forever, she scribbled something on a business card and tossed it at me. She blew a kiss my way and then turned and headed into the building.
I held up the card and looked at it. Mary Jacobs. The scribbling was a phone number.
"I gotta hand it to ya, pal," the cabbie was saying to me. "I didn't think you had a shot in hell with that dame."
"I had a little help," was all I said. I could tell he wanted to talk more about it, but I didn't feel like sharing my secret with him. He was cool, though, and charged me only a fraction of the real fare when he dropped me off at my place. I guess it pays to entertain your cab driver.
I went up to my ratty apartment and crashed for a few hours. I'm really going to have to get used to this working at night thing. Luckily, I don't have to work tonight. As I sit here on my bed, writing this, I'm trying to decide what I should do with my Friday evening. I might hit one of the clubs in town and see what my charm throws my way. I might give my ex-girlfriend Rebecca a call. She's the one that never let me tickle her, I think because she knew how much I really wanted to. Who knows what my charm might let me do with her. Or I might give Miss Mary Jacobs a call. I can't say that I wouldn't enjoy another crack at her either. Or maybe I'll just play it by ear. The possibilities are endless.
I'll write again after my next adventure. I'm sure it won't be long in coming.
End of Journal Entry #6
But you know that alreay, don't you?
