In my undergrad days, a large group of my friends would meet in the cafeteria for lunch. After which, everyone would head off to their respective classes. Except Ann and myself. We had a class three hours later in the afternoon together so we formed an informal study group between the two of us.
She was a terrific looking blonde, 5'7" , with a great figure. She was married but we had become friends in the two years we had known one another. We had the same major, and as such, always had two or three classes together every year.
Twelve noon came around one day, and about ten of us gathered for lunch. It was summer, so lunch was light, salads and the like. Of course summer also meant shorts and sandal weather--any good tickler's favorite time of year(not to mention mid-rifts, added for those tummy-ticklers out here! )
The conversation was exams, our midterms were in the offing for many of us, and cheating came up. Stories about eyewitnessed crib sheets, notes on the palms of the hands, etc. One of my group mentioned that
in his geography class, one female student had notes on the bottom of her feet in ink, and during the test, would slip off her sandal and cross her leg so her sole ended up in her lap and look for the answers on her foot. This, of course, attracted my attention and many of the group became incensed with how cheating had become so commonplace..yadda, yadda, yadda....
Per usual, everyone left the cafeteria and headed off to class. And, on schedule the cafeteria closed (that is, they closed a metal curtain over the serving area..the dining space was open to students). Ann and I went forward with our usual studying interrupted by the occasional conversation. She was all worked up about the cheating.
"I can't believe all the trouble people go to just to cheat. If they spent half the time......" She was droning on and on...I know you've heard this argument before.
"Don't believe everything you hear." I said cynically. "C'mon, some of the stuff they were talking about is unbelievable."
"No, really. I know it goes on. I saw someone with their palms covered in ink" she said, exitedly.
"Maybe, Ann" I smirked. "But c'mon, her feet? How small would you have to write to get enough notes on the sole of your foot to be of any help? You'd have to put notes up to your calf" I baited. I hoped this would lead where I wanted it to.
"No more than a palm" She said.
"let's see." I said, smiling. She handed me her palm. "No, I mean your sole".
Not being one to back down from an arguement, she slipped off her sandal and put her foot in my lap. "See, plenty of room". She wiggled her toes. Now, she was just being cruel...I loved it.
"Well lets see. Give me your pen." I said grasping her ankle. She was slumped down in her chair as she was seated across from me, her leg under the table. She gave me this grin, like she was thinking 'I know what you're up to', but I had gotten this far, why not go for broke?
She rolled her pen, green ink, across the table to me. I pick it up and start writing a syllogism (logical argument) on her sole. Her eyes clinch as she starts to giggle. A couple of students nearby start stealing glances at what we were doing.
"I don't know Ann. I'm trying to write pretty small, but with you jumping in your seat, this is kinda hard" I jeer.
She started to pound the table, lightly. "It tickles!"
"Yeah, they must be willing to put up with it to cheat, huh."
"Quit. Not my toes! Quit!" she was trying to keep her voice hushed as I continued to write.
"One more line, and I'll be done" I offer.
She continued to giggle. I don't know if it was the tickling or if it was the idea that she was being humiliated, but she was really enjoying my playful torture. I finally quit. I released her foot and she sat up in her chair and looked at my writing.
"I can read it." She said smuggly. I smiled.
"Hey, would you get me a coke from the machine?" I asked tossing a couple of quarters in front of her.
"Ah sure." she said, wondering why I didn't get it myself, as the machine was only 15 feet from us. She slipped her sandal on and walked to the machine and back.
"Ann, read the syllogism on your foot" I say. She turned her foot over, and sure enough, part of the writing had smeared.
"I can still read it" she crowed.
"So far. Can you imagine walking to class and being able to?" I asked.
"Maybe not." she conceded. She gave me my drink and went to the girls room returning with a wetted paper towel. She handed me the towel and placed her bare foot in my lap.
"You messed it up, you clean it" she teased, grinning.
I am a gentleman, if nothing else.............................
She was a terrific looking blonde, 5'7" , with a great figure. She was married but we had become friends in the two years we had known one another. We had the same major, and as such, always had two or three classes together every year.
Twelve noon came around one day, and about ten of us gathered for lunch. It was summer, so lunch was light, salads and the like. Of course summer also meant shorts and sandal weather--any good tickler's favorite time of year(not to mention mid-rifts, added for those tummy-ticklers out here! )
The conversation was exams, our midterms were in the offing for many of us, and cheating came up. Stories about eyewitnessed crib sheets, notes on the palms of the hands, etc. One of my group mentioned that
in his geography class, one female student had notes on the bottom of her feet in ink, and during the test, would slip off her sandal and cross her leg so her sole ended up in her lap and look for the answers on her foot. This, of course, attracted my attention and many of the group became incensed with how cheating had become so commonplace..yadda, yadda, yadda....
Per usual, everyone left the cafeteria and headed off to class. And, on schedule the cafeteria closed (that is, they closed a metal curtain over the serving area..the dining space was open to students). Ann and I went forward with our usual studying interrupted by the occasional conversation. She was all worked up about the cheating.
"I can't believe all the trouble people go to just to cheat. If they spent half the time......" She was droning on and on...I know you've heard this argument before.
"Don't believe everything you hear." I said cynically. "C'mon, some of the stuff they were talking about is unbelievable."
"No, really. I know it goes on. I saw someone with their palms covered in ink" she said, exitedly.
"Maybe, Ann" I smirked. "But c'mon, her feet? How small would you have to write to get enough notes on the sole of your foot to be of any help? You'd have to put notes up to your calf" I baited. I hoped this would lead where I wanted it to.
"No more than a palm" She said.
"let's see." I said, smiling. She handed me her palm. "No, I mean your sole".
Not being one to back down from an arguement, she slipped off her sandal and put her foot in my lap. "See, plenty of room". She wiggled her toes. Now, she was just being cruel...I loved it.
"Well lets see. Give me your pen." I said grasping her ankle. She was slumped down in her chair as she was seated across from me, her leg under the table. She gave me this grin, like she was thinking 'I know what you're up to', but I had gotten this far, why not go for broke?
She rolled her pen, green ink, across the table to me. I pick it up and start writing a syllogism (logical argument) on her sole. Her eyes clinch as she starts to giggle. A couple of students nearby start stealing glances at what we were doing.
"I don't know Ann. I'm trying to write pretty small, but with you jumping in your seat, this is kinda hard" I jeer.
She started to pound the table, lightly. "It tickles!"
"Yeah, they must be willing to put up with it to cheat, huh."
"Quit. Not my toes! Quit!" she was trying to keep her voice hushed as I continued to write.
"One more line, and I'll be done" I offer.
She continued to giggle. I don't know if it was the tickling or if it was the idea that she was being humiliated, but she was really enjoying my playful torture. I finally quit. I released her foot and she sat up in her chair and looked at my writing.
"I can read it." She said smuggly. I smiled.
"Hey, would you get me a coke from the machine?" I asked tossing a couple of quarters in front of her.
"Ah sure." she said, wondering why I didn't get it myself, as the machine was only 15 feet from us. She slipped her sandal on and walked to the machine and back.
"Ann, read the syllogism on your foot" I say. She turned her foot over, and sure enough, part of the writing had smeared.
"I can still read it" she crowed.
"So far. Can you imagine walking to class and being able to?" I asked.
"Maybe not." she conceded. She gave me my drink and went to the girls room returning with a wetted paper towel. She handed me the towel and placed her bare foot in my lap.
"You messed it up, you clean it" she teased, grinning.
I am a gentleman, if nothing else.............................