MANY years ago, I was visiting a girlfriend in her home (she still lived with her folks at 24). Her two collegiate sisters were in the room with us; and, for some reason, the girls started comparing feet. My heart nearly galloped out of my chest!
"Roberta has stubby toes," the sisters said about my girlfriend, "but that doesn't stop (my name) from tickling them!" I was so certain we'd never been seen, so we were both crimson with embarrassment. But I turned the moment to my advantage. "Hey, girls," I said, "if I hold her still, why don't YOU tickle Roberta's feet?"
Roberta shrieked with protest. "NOOO!" I wrapped my arms around her and held her in the fork of my legs as her two cute brunette sisters stripped her sandals off and gave her size 7 feet a far worse tickling than I had ever administered. They tickled non-stop for at least two minutes. Roberta laughed hysterically until she began to cough (but it was long enough for me to reach a special moment as I pressed against her! And with Roberta's gales of laughter, no one was the wiser).
As a tickler, I've learned to make the best of any situation. (By the way, her toes WERE stubby, but well-kept and adorable).