Tokyo_Tickler
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Sep 17, 2005
- Messages
- 50
- Points
- 8
Last night found me on the late bullet train from Tokyo, en route for Shizuoka City. The train was crowded when I got on, but I managed to find a seat between two ladies. On my right was an older lady, while on my left by the window was younger women with quite shapely legs, but also a rather persistent and annoying cough. In any case, I was busy and quickly opened up my laptop to finish off the job I had been working on. The train became progressively emptier as people got off at different stops, and happily I completed my work just a couple of minutes before we pulled into Shizuoka Station. A few people were already queuing in the aisle as I stood up to retrieve my overnight bag from the overhead rack. I happened to glance over the top of the seat back at the young woman who was sitting in the window seat in front of me. She looked to be in her early twenties, wore jeans and flesh-colored hose, and had her legs tucked up underneath her, so that the soles of her feet were pointed upwards (rather unusual in Japan). It was an enticing sight, but I did my best not to stare too obviously. Could I accidentally drop a glove over the seat, and use its retrieval as a chance to make contact? A bit too blatant and contrived, I thought, and dismissed the idea.
Since her neighbor had also vacated her seat and was queuing to get off the train, however, the girl now took the opportunity to stretch out on the three adjacent seats of which she was now the sole occupant (no pun intended). This put an entirely different complexion on matters. Since she was still sitting half upright, leaning back against the window, and was not particularly tall, her legs did not quite stretch all the way to the edge of the third seat by the aisle, but her feet would certainly be within striking distance from the aisle.
I knew that timing and positioning would be of the essence. Surveying the queue in the aisle, I reckoned that, once it started moving, it would take about ten seconds for everyone to shuffle out into the small enclosed compartment at the rear of the carriage where the door out onto the platform was located. There was also the minor problem that the route from my seat to the door would not take me past the row of seats in front, where the woman was lying, since the queue was fairly short and my seat was located very close to the rear of the carriage.
The train came to a halt in Shizuoka Station and there was the familiar buzzing alarm sound that marked a bullet train coming to a dead stop, followed by the hiss of automatic doors opening. The queue started to advance, and I exited the row of seats where I had been sitting (carefully stepping past the knees of the older lady beside me), ostensibly to join the end of the queue. I had my overnight slung over my shoulder and was clutching my laptop case by its shoulder strap. As I reached the aisle, I made as if to give myself room to swing the case up and over my shoulder without knocking the bag against the man at the back of the queue. This motion took me the necessary step down the aisle, away from the exit, bringing me level with the young lady’s row of seats. I swung round so that I was half-facing her, and half facing the exit, and ducked down slightly, as if to steady the bag on my back. The queue was just starting to move, and I knew I had just a couple of seconds before I too ought to start walking forward. Glancing at the girl, I stretched out a hand and gave the sole of her right foot a firm swipe with my fingers. She instantly yanked both her feet towards her and out of my reach, making no sound, but staring at me with a wide-eyed expression that seemed to convey a combination of surprise, amusement, embarrassment, and relief at her escape. All-in-all, the perfect reaction—definitely ticklish but no sound to alert anyone. I gave her a rueful grin as I walked off down the aisle and out onto the platform. I resisted the temptation to look around, to see if anyone had noticed, but rather suspect that no-one did. Those high-backed seats and narrow rows make for a stealth-ticklers paradise.
Since her neighbor had also vacated her seat and was queuing to get off the train, however, the girl now took the opportunity to stretch out on the three adjacent seats of which she was now the sole occupant (no pun intended). This put an entirely different complexion on matters. Since she was still sitting half upright, leaning back against the window, and was not particularly tall, her legs did not quite stretch all the way to the edge of the third seat by the aisle, but her feet would certainly be within striking distance from the aisle.
I knew that timing and positioning would be of the essence. Surveying the queue in the aisle, I reckoned that, once it started moving, it would take about ten seconds for everyone to shuffle out into the small enclosed compartment at the rear of the carriage where the door out onto the platform was located. There was also the minor problem that the route from my seat to the door would not take me past the row of seats in front, where the woman was lying, since the queue was fairly short and my seat was located very close to the rear of the carriage.
The train came to a halt in Shizuoka Station and there was the familiar buzzing alarm sound that marked a bullet train coming to a dead stop, followed by the hiss of automatic doors opening. The queue started to advance, and I exited the row of seats where I had been sitting (carefully stepping past the knees of the older lady beside me), ostensibly to join the end of the queue. I had my overnight slung over my shoulder and was clutching my laptop case by its shoulder strap. As I reached the aisle, I made as if to give myself room to swing the case up and over my shoulder without knocking the bag against the man at the back of the queue. This motion took me the necessary step down the aisle, away from the exit, bringing me level with the young lady’s row of seats. I swung round so that I was half-facing her, and half facing the exit, and ducked down slightly, as if to steady the bag on my back. The queue was just starting to move, and I knew I had just a couple of seconds before I too ought to start walking forward. Glancing at the girl, I stretched out a hand and gave the sole of her right foot a firm swipe with my fingers. She instantly yanked both her feet towards her and out of my reach, making no sound, but staring at me with a wide-eyed expression that seemed to convey a combination of surprise, amusement, embarrassment, and relief at her escape. All-in-all, the perfect reaction—definitely ticklish but no sound to alert anyone. I gave her a rueful grin as I walked off down the aisle and out onto the platform. I resisted the temptation to look around, to see if anyone had noticed, but rather suspect that no-one did. Those high-backed seats and narrow rows make for a stealth-ticklers paradise.
