OldEnglish
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2001
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Hey everyone,
Below is my latest work. I took a brief break from the Katy & Amber story line. I have about half of the next story all written, but I think I need some time to reflect on that series a bit, figure out where it's going. I want to take it in one direction, but it seems people would rather see it in another. In the meantime, this popped into my head.
It does involve a transgender individual.
As for writing, I think it might be one of my better pieces that I've shared in this forum, at least in terms of character development. Hopefully you feel the same. I'd be curious your feedback, both in terms of the writing but also the subject matter (namely the transgender individual). I'm not sure what the 'market' is here for such a thing. It's fairly long (almost 30 pages single-spaced), so you might need some time to read it.
Anyways, happy reading, as always,
OldEnglish
Jamie & Meghan: The Walls of Animosity (f/f nylons)
It had been almost a year since Jamie had begun her job at Mendix. The company, a medium-sized corporation, was housed in a quaint section of the city, its offices headquartered in an old industrial building that had been converted to business space. Jamie had been drawn to the company because of its opportunity for advancement; indeed, Jamie had been promoted two times since beginning at the company.
About to reach thirty years of age, Jamie was half-your average, everyday girl next door and half-unlike anyone you had met before. Jamie was on the taller side, about 5’8” in her bare feet and reaching 6’ when walking around the office in heels. She considered herself relatively attractive; some of her office cohorts would say she was being modest. Many wondered whether her long brown hair and sparkling brown eyes had helped her work as a model prior to joining Mendix. That, of course, was not the case, and any time one of her work friends joked about it, Jamie would always blush.
What made Jamie different than everyone else, though, was the fact that Jamie hadn’t always been Jamie. Well, she was always Jamie, but rather, she wasn’t always the Jamie that she presented as today. Jamie had been born a man, and after years of soul-searching and internal debate, she finally made the decision a few years ago that she was tired of living the lie and wanted the female that she knew lived deep inside of her to shine through. Thus, Jamie began the transformation process, slowly at first, sharing her story with a few close friends and, of course, family members, before exploring gender reassignment surgery. Jamie couldn’t have asked for a better result. The surgery and the associated hormone doses had produced the inner Jamie that had been hiding all along.
Of course, none of her coworkers knew that part of Jamie’s history. Not one for a lot of attention to begin with, Jamie certainly did not want that part of her life broadcast. She was both unwanting of the extra attention that it might carry were it known to all, and also fearful of the reaction that some might have if they knew the truth. Thus, people just knew her as Jamie, and no one really thought twice when she would brush off questions about her youth, just assuming that she did not wish to share that part of her personal life.
What Jamie’s coworkers saw above all else was a warm, caring individual. The person who always made sure to make it to the monthly birthday party at work, always with a card for those celebrating that month. The person who would always volunteer to assist on a project or cover you if you needed help with something. What Jamie’s coworkers saw was a beautiful person, both on the inside and out.
Unfortunately, not all of Jamie’s coworkers shared that same image of Jamie. Meghan had taken an instant dislike to Jamie as soon as Jamie was hired. Jamie had, of course, done nothing to Meghan to warrant such a response; rather, much of Meghan’s impression of Jamie had been formed from her own jealousy. The little things that Jamie did - things that no one else would even notice - had gotten under Meghan’s skin and fueled the disdain she held for Jamie. ‘Why does she always have to wear heels to work?’ Meghan would think to herself as she would see Jamie walk by her desk. ‘Isn’t she tall enough already?” ‘There she is again,’ Meghan would think to herself at the company birthday parties. ‘Always with a card for everyone and always the loudest singer during Happy Birthday!’ ‘Does she have to always be smiling so much?’ Meghan would think as she watched Jamie in conversation with others. ‘Why is she always so happy?’ All juvenile stuff, to be sure. Of course, the real root of Meghan’s dislike of Jamie stemmed from the fact that she saw Jamie as competition - competition for the prettiest girl in the office, competition for the attention of the guys in the office, and competition for future promotions. Meghan had convinced herself that Jamie had used “means outside of work” to secure her promotions, though she, of course, had no actual evidence to back any of that up.
Juvenile or not, those thoughts had festered within Meghan’s mind for the better part of the last year, and on this particular day, for no reason whatsoever, Meghan had decided that she had had enough of Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes and that she needed her out of Mendix, one way or another.
***
Jamie sat in the break room, sipping her coffee as she played the day’s challenge on her favorite cell phone app. Today was like any other day. Jamie had come to work and changed out of her Keds sneakers - which she used for walking from the train - into a pair of heels, her traditional black pumps that she wore around the office. They paired well with the black pencil skirt that she wore in addition to the white blouse she wore under the gray sweater. A pair of suntan pantyhose covered her legs and provided a little extra warmth on this crisp day. It was something of a standard outfit for Jamie. Sure, she’d vary it up from time - perhaps a more vibrant blouse, maybe a pair of black pantyhose - but she mostly stuck to the traditional attire that one would expect around an office.
The only thing different about this day than most others was the fact that Jamie’s heels had been causing her a little more trouble than usual. Nothing serious by any means, of course, but Jamie took advantage of the opportunity that an empty break room table afforded to slip her right foot out of the heel and prop it up on the chair to the side. Her 5’8” frame let her extend her leg with ease while still remaining seated regularly at the table.
After a few minutes, Meghan walked into the breakroom, heading to the company refrigerator to pour herself a glass of orange juice.
“Hey, Meghan,” Jamie greeted cheerfully as Meghan walked by the table.
“Hey,” Meghan said flatly, trying not to sound rude but not wanting to express any joy in talking to Jamie. ‘Why does she have to be so cheerful?’ Meghan thought to herself as she reached on her tiptoes for a glass from the cupboard.
“Do you want a hand reaching that?” Jamie asked, seeing the struggle that her 5’1” colleague was having reaching the glass. Even in her heels, that second shelf was always a reach for Meghan. She hated that people insisted on putting the cups on the second shelf.
“No, thanks,” said Meghan, her back still to Jamie as she reached. She made an exaggerated gagging-face to the cupboard that no one but the cupboard could see. “Just need… got it,” she said, readjusting her feet in her heels, as they had popped out a bit from having to reach up so high.
“Well, I’m always happy to help,” said Jamie, who went back to playing the app on her phone.
“Yes, I know,” said Meghan, rolling her eyes as she poured the orange juice in the glass. “So what are you working on there? I didn’t think you took breaks,” she said, intending for the last comment to be a jab at Jamie but making it sound like it wasn’t.
“Oh, just this app that my friend got me hooked on,” Jamie said, offering her phone. “You want a try?”
“No, thanks,” said Meghan, not really wanting to have to socialize with Jamie anymore than she had already done.
The break room door swung open one more time and Barb entered the room. Barb was somewhat like the office mother. An older woman only in comparison to the rest of the staff - roughly in her late forties or early fifties - Barb had been with the company since its inception. She was generally well-liked and well-respected in the office, even if sometimes people hoped they could avoid one her stories that would always begin with, “I remember a time when…”
Jamie and Barb exchanged pleasantries as Barb walked past the table - ‘Of COURSE she would make sure she said ‘hi’ to Barb,’ Meghan muttered in her head.
Meghan shifted to her left a little so Barb could reach into the silverware drawer. ‘Just look at her there,’ Meghan mumbled to herself in her head. ‘She thinks she’s so perfect. Always offering to help,’ she continued, pausing her inner diatribe to fake a smile at Barb. ‘Is there anything about her that ISN’T perfect?’
Barb finished pouring herself a cup of coffee and had plated herself a muffin as she walked over to the break room table. She placed her coffee and muffin on the table, and then looked around for an open chair. Ordinarily, the break room would hold four or five chairs, but they were often pulled into neighboring conference rooms for larger meetings. Today seemed to be such a day, as the only two chairs in the room were the one on which Jamie was sitting and the one on which her leg was resting.
Barb looked over to Meghan and nodded her head in the direction of the “open” chair, offering it to her since she had been in the room longer. Meghan flashed a fake smile and waved her hand, passing on the offer. She didn’t plan on being in the break room for that long, anyways, and she surely did not want to spend time sitting next to Jamie. Barb smiled back and nodded, acknowledging Meghan’s message.
Before Barb could pull the chair out to sit, though, she noticed Jamie’s foot dangling off the edge of the seat; she hadn’t realized that Jamie had been using the chair as a leg rest. She looked to Jamie to see if she would move, but saw Jamie too engrossed in the app on her phone to notice that Barb was trying to sit down.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Barb asked politely, reaching down and giving a quick tickle to the center of Jamie’s foot as encouragement to move.
“Ah!” Jamie yelled as she felt Barb’s finger on her foot, jumping so high that she banged her leg on the underside of the table. Jamie quickly pulled her leg down and slid her foot back into the heel that rested below. “Yeah, of course,” she said, brushing the hair that had come out from out of her face. “I’m sorry.”
Barb was still chuckling from Jamie’s reaction. “Oh, no bother,” she said, sitting herself down in the chair at last. She smiled at Jamie, and then nodded her head to the floor where Jamie’s feet now where, and asked, “A little ticklish, are we?”
Jamie blushed and instinctively hid her head in her hands a bit. “You could say that,” she said, knowing there was no use denying the fact after that reaction.
“Not to worry,” Barb chuckled again. “I won’t tell… too many people,” she said with a laugh.
“Now, Barb,” Jamie said, laughing a little herself as she gave Barb the “don’t you dare” gaze.
“On second thought,” Barb said, still finding delight in her discovery. “Maybe I’ll keep it to myself. Now I know how to get you to do all of my work for me,” she said with a laugh, dancing her fingers in the air in a tickling motion to show what she meant
Jamie laughed. Even though she was the butt of Barb’s teasing at the current moment, she has always found Barb’s sense of humor a delight.
“You laugh, Barb,” Jamie said as she began to get up. “But that would totally work,” she admitted, figuring there was no danger in confession the effectiveness of such a tactic as there was no real threat of Barb tickling her at work again. “My sister used to tickle me all the time growing up, and she wouldn’t stop until I agreed to do whatever chore she wanted me to do,” Jamie said, offering a rare glimpse of her past to a colleague.
“Did it work?” Barb asked, still chuckling.
“She was my sister,” Jamie said with a smile as she got up from the table and walked to the door. “She knew my weakness.”
“That’s what sisters are for,” Barb said as Jamie walked out of the room, still chuckling a little to herself as she sat alone.
Meghan felt like she was going to puke. ‘Could that have been any more obnoxious?’ she thought to herself. Did she really have to be nice to Barb? Barb, of all people? ‘Anyone else would have complained to HR about Barb,’ Meghan thought to herself, sipping her juice. ‘But not Little Miss Perfect,’ Meghan said, so full of disgust that she openly shook her head as she finished her juice.
Meanwhile, Barb was still slightly chuckling from the experience, obviously pleased with herself. “Haven’t seen someone that ticklish in the office since Linda left,” Barb said out loud to no one in particular, perhaps forgetting that Meghan was even in the room. “So ticklish, so cute,” she said, taking a bite of her muffin.
‘Oh my word,’ Meghan thought to herself as she watched Barb fawn over Jamie. She turned to put her cup in the sink so she wouldn’t have to see Barb’s smile anymore. ‘Just when I thought people around here couldn’t think she was any more perfect,’ Meghan continued in her mind. ‘Of COURSE she’s ticklish,’ Meghan thought, scrubbing her cup with a little extra emphasis because of her anger. ‘Little Miss Perfect WOULD be…’ she thought to herself, pausing washing her cup and looking up as if she had just had an ephiany. ‘Ticklish,’ she finished her thought.
Of course! That was it. The opening Meghan needed to finally get to Jamie, to make it clear where she stood. What had Jamie said? Being ticklish was her ‘weakness’? It was how her sister used to get her to do whatever she wanted? That it would still work if Barb had tried her foolish plan? It was perfect. Meghan was actually a little miffed at herself for not having thought of it before. It only stood to reason that Jamie would be the kind of person to be incredibly ticklish. Jamie frequently spoke of getting her nails done, and though she had never confided to anyone of the pedicure experience being unbearable tickle torture, it only stood to reason that someone who got pedicures as often as Jamie seemed to would have soft feet. Jamie was also unabashadley fond of her moisturizers, constantly having at least three different kinds on her desk at work. And then, of course, there was the undeniable evidence of Jamie essentially jumping out of her skin when Barb had tickled her foot.
Yes, it was decided… Tickling would be the tool Meghan would use to finally put Jamie in her place… to finally teach her a lesson.. But where? And how?
***
“Good morning, Jamie,” Meghan said, walking up to Jamie’s desk after logging in for work. A couple of days had passed since Meghan had come up with her plan and today she hoped to put it into action.
“Hey… Meghan,” Jamie said, a little shocked to see Meghan saying good morning first. Of course, Jamie had no idea of the true level of disdain that Meghan held for her, but Jamie had been cognizant enough to recognize that Meghan hadn’t been one to go out of her way to be friendly with her.
“Listen,” Meghan said, grabbing a rolling chair and bringing it next to Jamie’s desk. “I actually have a favor to ask,” Meghan said, knowing full well there was no way someone as “kind and sweet” as Jamie would ever turn down an opportunity to help a coworker.
“Yeah, sure,” said Jamie, happy, in part, to see Meghan finally perhaps softening her stance a bit. “What’s up?”
“I’m just having trouble with this project,” Meghan said. “I was wondering if, I don’t know, you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand?”
“Yeah, of course,” Jamie said with a huge smile before her smile turned flat. “But I’m just swamped today with meetings,” Jamie said, pointing to her date book on the desk.
“How about this?” Meghan said, happy that her plan was falling perfectly into place. “Are you doing anything after work? How would you feel about swinging by my house after work and working on it then?” she asked, knowing that such an offer might seem unheard of from Meghan. “I’ll even throw in some Chinese food for your troubles, if you don’t mind takeout,” she added, subtly adding in a hopeful expression in the form of her best puppy dog eyes.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, a little unsure of where this side of Meghan was coming from all of a sudden but being thankful to see it. “But I take the train in,” she said, not wanting it to seem like she was continually coming up with reasons not to help her colleague.
“Perfect,” said Meghan, wiping away that excuse immediately. “We can drive to my place together in my car,” she offered. “I don’t mind dropping you off afterwards, and it’ll give us some time to talk about stuff other than work,” she added.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, a smile covering her face. “I’d like that,” she said, happy to have seemingly cracked the hardest colleague finally.
“Great,” said Meghan, patting Jamie on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at five then,” she said, getting up and walking away.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, still smiling as the click-clock of Meghan’s heels faded in the distance.
Meghan was more than pleased with herself. Her plan couldn’t have gone any better had she written it. Meghan hated the fact that she had to be be nice to Jamie, even just for the small time that the two had spoken at Jamie’s desk, and knew that the only way she’d be able to get through the evening was knowing what she had in store for her new friend, Jamie. Knowing that Jamie would be powerless against the tickling that Meghan planned to unleash of her later that night…
Jamie, too, was pleased with herself, but for a very different reason, obviously. Though she wasn’t sure of the reason, she was very happy to see that Meghan had seemingly softened her stance towards her. Jamie had always wondered what she had done to cause Meghan to try to distance herself from her as much as she did; never one for confrontation, though, Jamie had figured the best approach was to let things play out naturally. And now, it seemed that Meghan had finally warmed to Jamie, which made Jamie very happy.
Of course, there was also a little something else that had caused Jamie’s smile to form. Despite very much appearing as a woman in her present state, there was no denying that Jamie was born a man. And though she had done all she could to distance herself from that Jamie, the issue of her own sexuality was one that she hadn’t yet figured out. All she knew was that she still liked women, though she knew that her… past… would certainly make any chance of a relationship with one all but impossible. Still, there had always been something about Meghan that had caught Jamie’s eye. Maybe it was, indeed, the way Meghan had treated her. Maybe Jamie had fallen for the cliche “bad kid”. And to be sure, it wasn’t necessarily that Jamie was smitten by any means - indeed, it would be difficult to do so with someone who wouldn’t even give you the time of day - but the elusiveness that Meghan had shown to Jamie had certainly kindled, at the very least, a slight crush in Jamie’s eyes towards Meghan. Thus, having the opportunity to spend some time with Meghan getting to know each other was certainly one that Jamie did not want to pass up.
***
“I appreciate you giving me a lift,” Jamie said from the passenger seat, doing her best to make the awkward small talk that makes car rides move along faster.
“Oh, nonsense,” said Meghan. “I’m the one indebted to you,” Meghan added, choking on her words as they came out. “I really appreciate you helping me out,” she said.
It was difficult for Meghan to come up with this faux sincerity towards Jamie. At the same time, she was trying to both force herself to be cordial with Jamie and also try to contain the feeling of pure jubilation that was building knowing that her plan was about to come to fruition. Meghan looked over to Jamie and smiled, though the smile was more a show of how perfectly this had come together than any kinship towards Jamie.
Jamie had worn the perfect outfit for Meghan’s plan to be effective. Though conservative in nature, Meghan took note of how many potential ticklish spots were either exposed or vulnerable. As per usual, Jamie had worn a light camisole under an open sweater. The camisole clung to Jamie’s sides, hugging her skin along the way. Meghan had worn such a camisole many times in her life and knew first-hand how little protection the thin material offered against a tickle attack. The camisole added another benefit, though, as the thin straps that held the camisole over the shoulder provided absolutely no coverage for one’s underarms. This might not be on consequence were one wearing a solid top over the camisole, but when such a camisole is paired with an open sweater, any would-be tickler has free access to the exposed under arms of her victim. Further down, Jamie’s pencil skirt, though tasteful and suitable for the work environment, came to an end slightly above her knee - again, an otherwise inconsequential detail, but that slightly shorter hem meant that not only were Jamie’s calves fair game, but her knees - and possibly her thighs, as well - would be left defenseless against a tickle attack.
But if all that weren’t good enough…. If that combination wasn’t already enough to spell Jamie’s ticklish demise this evening… There was one more piece… One more element… The piece de resistance… The only element of Jamie’s wardrobe that Meghan knew guaranteed that her ticklish plan would be successful…
Pantyhose.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be obvious to someone far away because of the similarity in color hue between the suntan color of the pantyhose and the natural tan glow of Jamie’s skin, but an up close and person look left no doubt that Jamie’s legs were adorned in pantyhose. Meghan didn’t really have any doubt. Jamie always wore pantyhose. OF COURSE she always wore pantyhose… But given how the universe seemed to always shine down on Jamie, Meghan had had some doubts, some worry that perhaps this might have been the ONE day Jamie bypassed her pantyhose drawer in the morning and opted for something more covering.
Meghan knew the pantyhose would be Jamie’s downfall. She couldn’t help but smile at herself in the mirror this morning imagining Jamie getting dressed, sliding on her pantyhose with no idea what danger she was putting herself in. Jamie was ticklish. Thanks to Barb, there was no questioning that. Jamie was very ticklish. Jamie had also almost jumped out of her skin when tickled on her foot while wearing pantyhose just a few days ago. Again, hat tip to Barb for that one… Even if all else failed… If by some chance, Jamie wasn’t ticklish on her sides or her stomach or her neck or under her arms… Those pantyhose guaranteed success on Jamie’s lower half.
Another smile formed on Meghan’s face as she drove in the darkness as she contemplated how fool-proof her plan was shaping to be. She hadn’t necessarily considered it at the time, of course, but Jamie’s penchant for wearing pantyhose played perfectly into Meghan’s plan. Meghan knew all too-well from her own first-hand experience the drawbacks that a pair of pantyhose offered to a pair of ticklish feet. Never one to make it out of a pedicure chair unscathed to begin with, Meghan had an extensive history of boyfriends, friends, family members, and roommates not only discovering but also taking advantage of the fact that pantyhose only exacerbated what was painfully obvious - Meghan’s feet were ridiculously ticklish. Of course, having ticklish feet was nothing new to Meghan; since she was little, she had been surrounded by people more than willing to send Meghan into hysterics. But as she had aged and entered the professional world, dealing with the disadvantage that a pair of pantyhose offers had become a much more common occurrence for Meghan; indeed, even if it was just her mom sneaking in a tickle for old-times-sake, Meghan had found that she was far more likely to be tickled when wearing pantyhose than when not - at least when her feet were involved.
And though Meghan, herself, was also clad in a pair of pantyhose this evening, she was confident that there was no chance of her getting tickled, for if nothing else, she intended to keep her shoes on throughout the evening. And though she couldn’t quite claim to have thought the plan out in this great of detail, she reasoned, now, that her wearing pantyhose herself was rather critical to the success of the evening. Were Meghan to remain in her work attire - specifically, the pantyhose and heels she currently had on - Jamie would likely feel compelled to remain in her work attire. Not that Jamie had access to a change of clothes, of course, but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for one to remove her pantyhose in the restroom. No, that simply couldn’t happen. Now that Meghan knew Jamie was wearing pantyhose, those pantyhose had to remain on throughout the evening, even if it meant Meghan was leaving herself a little vulnerable in the meantime. It was a calculated risk, to be sure, but the fact that Jamie had no prior knowledge of Meghan’s ticklish level and the fact that a goody-good like Jamie wasn’t likely to tickle a coworker reassured Meghan that it was a gamble worth taking.
Of course, even with the pantyhose, there was the pesky little matter of Jamie’s footwear. Though normally one to wear a basic pump similar to the heels Meghan was currently wearing, Jamie had today instead opted to wear a pair of ankle booties. Coming in at just around - if not slightly below - her ankle, Jamie’s booties still, of course, maintained the four inch heel that Jamie was known to wear. Though they wouldn’t be as easy for Meghan to remove as a pair of pumps would have been - a zipper went up the instep of each bootie and would need to be pulled down to remove the shoe - Meghan knew very well that after a long day of walking around in four inch heels, Jamie would likely welcome any opportunity to rid herself of those heels.
Meghan glanced one more time over to Jamie, who was looking out the passenger window at the moment. It was almost sad to see someone seemingly so innocent having no idea she was being driven to her demise. If Meghan didn’t have as much disdain for Jamie as she did, she might even feel bad for her. Of course, it was impossible to feel bad for someone who… well, for someone who was just so… someone just so perfect. Right?
Jamie felt Meghan’’s gaze and turned and saw Meghan smiling at her; she smiled back, catching Meghan off-guard.
“I don’t think I told you how much I love your outfit,” said Jamie, looking for ways to soften Meghan a little more, perhaps.
“Oh,” said Meghan, genuinely caught off-guard again by the compliment. It wasn’t often that people gave her an authentic compliment. “Thank you,” she said, flattered by Jamie’s words. “And I, uh,” Meghan stammered, looking for words. “I love your shoes,” she said, shifting her attention back to her focus. “They must be killer to walk in all day,” she added.
“They’re not the easiest,” Jamie admitted, turning her leg to get a better glimpse of her shoes. Truth was, Jamie would have taken these booties off as soon as the clock struck five with the same alacrity of Fred Flintstone punching out of work . Her trusty pair of comfortable white Keds were sitting in her bag; on any other day, they would be on her feet providing her feet a soft pillow of comfort after a long day in heels. But today was not just any other day. Today was the day that Meghan had finally taken an interest in her, might finally be interested in even being friends. Jamie needed her best presentation. Therefore, no matter the pain, no matter the anguish, no matter how much her feet called for her Keds… The heels would remain on for the duration of the evening. No pain, no gain.
***
“And actually,” Jamie said, working her way through the spreadsheet program. “This will actually save you a lot of time moving forward,” she said, showing Meghan another shortcut for her work.
“Wow,” Meghan said, amazed at how much she had actually learned from Jamie this evening. “Thank you so much,” she said, genuinely. That Meghan needed help for a project had simply been a ruse to get Jamie outside of the office walls, but Jamie had made one helpful suggestion after another and shown Meghan ways to greatly reduce how long it took her to complete her tasks.
“Oh, girl, it’s no problem,” said Jamie, patting Meghan on the arm and smiling. Meghan giggled a bit. “What’s so funny?” asked Jamie.
“Oh, nothing,” said Meghan. “It’s just,” she began. “It’s just that when you smile, your nose sort of crinkles up a bit,” said Meghan, trying to demonstrate on her own nose.
“Oh, that,” laughed Jamie, slightly embarrassed “People have been making fun of me for that for years,” she admitted, hiding her nose under her hand..
“No,” said Meghan. “It’s cute,” she said, smiling back at Jamie. Could Meghan have been wrong about Jamie this entire time? Was she just a genuinely nice person? Was it Meghan who had been in the wrong this entire time?
“Do you want some more wine?” Meghan asked, snapping herself out of her gaze and bringing her back to reality.
“Oh, gosh no, thank you,” said Jamie, looking down at her cup. “It’s still a work night tonight,” she said jokingly. “I wouldn’t mind some coffee if you have some, though,” she said.
“Yeah, no problem,” said Meghan. “I’ve got one of those coffee pod makers. I’ll be right back,” she said, getting up and making her way into the kitchen.
Meghan smiled to herself as she reached the counter. What had been happening tonight? Her view of Jamie had seemingly shifted entirely, no longer viewing her as a menace but rather someone who could possibly be… a friend? What had happened? No. No, Meghan had a plan and she needed to see that plan through.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Meghan asked.
“Sure,” said Jamie, walking into the kitchen.
“Have you ever been tied up?”
Jamie laughed, caught completely off-guard by Meghan’s question.
“I should probably explain,” said Meghan, who began weaving the layers of her trap in place. It was simple, really. Pretend that someone had asked Meghan to be tied up, with Meghan appearing uncertain about doing so. Ask Jamie for help. There was no way someone as nice as Jamie would say no to helping someone. Then, once she’s tied down and helpless, commence.
“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” said Jamie with a nervous laugh. It was certainly one of the more outrageous things anyone had ever asked her to do, but a friend in need, right?
Jamie cautiously slid onto the bed, both in slight trepidation and also to ensure that she did not mess up the comforter with her shoes. Using one hand to hold her skirt in place, she turned and landed on her back; then, after ensuring that there were no wardrobe malfunctions, she spread her arms and her legs to assume the spread-eagle position that would be needed to demonstrate the restraints.
“Oh my gosh,” said Meghan, faking her appreciation to Jamie. “Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she said as she set Jamie’s wrists in place with the handcuffs. Meghan then wandered to the foot of the boot to secure Jamie’s ankles in place.
“Just try not to put a run in my pantyhose,” Jamie said as she felt the shackles wrap around her ankle.
“I’ll be gentle,” Meghan said with a fake smile, knowing full well that a run in her pantyhose was the last thing that Jamie should be worrying about right now.
When Jamie was finally secured, Meghan stepped back and examined what lay before her. Jamie pretended to struggle to free herself from the shackles, laughing at herself to help ease her own awkwardness.
“Can you get out?” asked Meghan.
“No,” said Jamie, again giving the shackles a tug. “I’m in here pretty good.”
“Good,” said Meghan, no longer presenting the faux-compassion she had been showing for Jamie.
“Could you maybe let me out now?” Jamie asked, looking herself over as best she could given her predicament. “Kind of in a tight spot here,” she said, again laughing awkwardly at the situation.
“I actually don’t think so,” she Meghan, putting her pointer finger to her chin. “You see, Jamie, ever since you arrived at Mendix, it seems like everyone has been falling for your act,” Meghan said with anger.
“Act?” Jamie asked, now visibly nervous. “Meghan, what are you talking about? Can you please just let me go?”
“You know what I mean,” Meghan said. “Little Miss Perfect… Little Miss Never Late to Work, Always Willing to Stay Late if Needed… Well, it’s not fair,” Meghan said. “I’ve watched you get opportunity after opportunity that should have gone to me!” Meghan continued.
“Wha…” Jamie began, not sure how to even comprehend what was going on. “What are you even talking about Meghan? Come on,” she said. “You’re scaring me.”
“Maybe you should be scared, Jamie,” Meghan said, bending down to be face-to-face with her now-captive guest. “You see, women like you need to be taught a lesson.”
“Women like me?” Jamie asked. “Meghan, I honestly have no idea what you mean,” Jamie pleaded, shaking at her shackles again. “Please,” she begged. “Just… Just let me go and we pretend this never happened, OK?”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy for you, Jamie,” Meghan said, leaning in closer to Jamie. “It’s time you were cut down a bit,” Meghan went on. “Maybe shown what it’s like when things don’t always go your way. Maybe it’s time you find out what it’s like when you can’t run to the bosses and charm your way out of something,” Meghan said with almost a snarl.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Jamie begged.
“Come on,” Meghan said. “Don’t pretend. I know you have Mr Smith and the rest of the board wrapped around your finger, just like you wanted,” Meghan said. “The way you wink. The way you smile. ‘Of course, Mr. Smith.’ ‘I’d love to, Mr. Smith.’ Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing!”
“Meghan, I PROMISE,” Jamie pleaded. “There’s nothing like that at all.” Jamie continued to shake her head as Meghan levied more and more charges against Jamie, each more outrageous than the last.
“So I’ve finally had enough,” Meghan said after her diatribe. “And it’s time for you to pay the price.”
“Meghan, please,” Jamie begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Oh sweetie,” Meghan said, now almost nose-to-nose with Jamie. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “I think I know a much more effective way of teaching you a lesson,” she continued, pausing for a moment before adding “thanks to Barb” in a devilish whisper.
“Thanks to…?” Jamie began, confused for a moment before realizing Meghan’s intentions. “NO!” she screamed as she remembered the incident in the break room a few days prior. “Meghan, no,” Jamie begged, trying one more time to break free from the shackles that bound her. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s the matter, Jamie?” Meghan asked, taunting her prey. “A little ticklish?” she asked with a smile.
“Meghan, please,” Jamie begged, trying to think in vain of a way she could possibly get out of this predicament. There was no use denying it. Meghan knew Jamie was ticklish; it had been on full display in the breakroom that day. Jamie kicked herself as she remembered the level of detail that she had gone into explaining to Barb just how ticklish she was. Why did she have to say it was her weakness? Why hadn’t she just played it off like she was startled? And worse, why had she agreed to test out these restraints for Meghan? Meghan, who up until this morning would change direction in the hallway to avoid having to say hi to Jamie… Meghan, who up until this morning had never shown any inclination of friendship towards Jamie… Jamie couldn’t believe how helpless she was in this situation.
“Meghan, this has to be a joke, right?” Jamie asked, hoping that a calmer voice of reason would flush out the joke behind this.
“Oh, it’s no joke,” Meghan said, walking over to her nightstand to pick something up. “You’ll be laughing your head off, of course,” Meghan said, laughing at her own joke. “But it’s no joke.”
“Meghan, why? Why are you doing this?” Jamie begged. Knowing she was innocent to the claims Meghan had levied against her made such a fate like this seem all the worse. “I never did any of th.... Whoa, what’s that?” Jamie asked, her fear growing as she saw Meghan walking back over to the bed.
“Just a little blindfold,” Meghan said, leaning down again near Jamie. “I hear being blindfolded really heightens the experience,” Meghan added. “Doesn’t it also increase your other senses?” Meghan asked with an eyebrow raised. “Like, say, a heightened sense of touch?” she continued, leaning down and putting the blindfold over Jamie’s eyes. It wasn’t an easy task, as Jamie twisted and turned and squirmed as much as her restraints would allow, but in just a few moments, the room had gone dark in Jamie’s eyes.
“Meghan, pleaaaaase,” Jamie said, starting to cry. “Please don’t do this. Please,” she said, repeating herself over and over.
“For someone as ticklish as you say you are,” Meghan said, “This must be your worst fear, right?”
“Yes! Meghan!” Jamie answered, continuing to plead for mercy, to try to change Meghan’s mind somehow.
Meghan looked at Jamie as she lay on her bed. She almost couldn’t believe it. Her plan was coming to fruition. She had Jamie helpless, free to do anything she pleased to her. Dozens of ticklish spots seemed to be calling out to Meghan, as if they were little bullseyes showing the user where to target. Jamie continued pleading for mercy. It was almost sad, Meghan thought to herself. Someone so polished, someone so put together, someone so perfect… To be reduced to such a pitiful state by the mere threat of tickling…
For a moment, Meghan, again, had her doubts. Should she really go through with this? It was clearly something that was very traumatic for Jamie. Was what Jamie had done to Meghan really worth what was about to come to Jamie? ‘What was it she did again?’ Meghan asked herself, again on the edge of calling the entire thing off. She looked over to her dresser where she saw the keys to the handcuffs. Jamie didn’t really deserve this, did she? Did ANYONE deserve this? After all, Jamie had come here tonight out of the goodness of her own heart, had helped Meghan in ways Meghan didn’t even know she needed…
For a moment, Meghan considered her own body, as well - how it would feel to have so many ticklish spots exposed with no way of defending them. It wasn’t that hard to do, as Meghan’s outfit today very nearly matched Jamie’s. Meghan thought how horrified she would be if her bare underarms were wide open… What she would do if someone had free access to her sides… How crazy she would go if she couldn’t defend herself against someone tickling her feet in pantyhose… For a moment, Meghan nearly had a change of heart…
“Please, Meghan?” Jamie begged. Though unable to see anything in the room, she hoped that the last few moments of inactivity signified a change of heart in Meghan’s view, perhaps a chance that Jamie might get out of this. “Meghan, I’m so ticklish,” Jamie admitted, finally saying the actual words. “There’s no way I can handle this. You saw how much I jumped in the break room just from Barb! Please!” Jamie begged.
Jamie’s pleading was almost hypnotic to Meghan, though it had the opposite effect of what Jamie had intended. If anything, Jamie’s admission and description of being ticklish had only rekindled the desire within Meghan. There would be no turning back. No, Meghan had gone this far already. She had to finish it off.
“Relax, sweetie,” Meghan said, kneeling on the bed in between Jamie’s legs so she had complete access to Jamie’s upper body. “Does anyone know you’re here?” Meghan asked, changing her tone for a moment.
“N.. No,” Jamie stammered.
“Oh goodie,” said Meghan with delight. “Then I can tickle you all night long and no one will even notice!” she said.
“All night?” Jamie shrieked, realizing more and more as each second passed that this wasn’t some nightmare she was having. That this was actually happening. “Meghan, please,” Jamie continued. “There’s no way,” she began. “There’s no way I can take being tickled all night,” she said.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Meghan said with a devilish smile. “Now where should we start?” she asked, smiling even more as she saw Jamie again squirm and pull at her shackles, all to no avail. “Must drive you nuts not having any idea where my fingers are headed, huh?” Meghan asked as her fingers zeroed in on their target.
“Yes,” Jamie said quickly. “Meghan, please I can-ha HA HA HA HA HA.” Her words were cut off. She meant to tell Meghan that she wouldn’t be able to handle being tickled, but words were not needed. It was plainly obvious.
Jamie began laughing hysterically as Meghan’s fingers made contact with Jamie’s sides. It was music to Meghan’s ears. Truth be told, even though she came in knowing full well that Jamie was ticklish, Jamie’s initial reaction to Meghan tickling her sides had surprised Meghan. Meghan didn’t even think she was tickling Jamie all that much, just some light “piano-playing” of her fingers up and down Jamie’s sides - over her camisole, no less - but Jamie was already overwhelmed with laughter. There was no more begging. No more pleading. Nothing but pure, unfiltered laughter streaming from Jamie’s mouth as Meghan’s fingers continued to tickle the ivories.
Jamie hadn’t been prepared for such a tickle attack. Even though Meghan had told her it was coming, Jamie’s mind was so filled with despair that she couldn’t prepare herself for the ticklish attack. Of course, not that any amount of preparation in the world would have left Jamie better suited to withstand this tickle. Her sides had often been the target of would-be ticklers; as one of the most easily accessible of the usual tickle spots, many friends and family members took delight in sneaking in a quick poke of Jamie’s sides to see her jump, to say nothing of the torture that was trying to take a picture with someone whose hand was wrapped around her and resting on her side. But never before had she been this vulnerable. Sure, some friends had held her arms up in the air to make Jamie an easier target once or twice in the past, but never before had she been restrained, unable to pull her arms down to even partially protect her ticklish sides. She could do nothing but sit there and take it. And laugh.
“Oooh my,” said Meghan with glee. “What a ticklish little one we have here, huh?” she asked as her fingers continued to dance over the thin material of the camisole. “Oh my gosh,” Meghan teased. “I can see your ribs,” she joked as her fingers poked each rib up and down Jamie’s sides. There was no relent from Meghan. No spot less ticklish than the last. No technique less effective than another.
Jamie twisted and turned her body as much as she could, trying in vain to distance her sides from Meghan’s fingers. It was no use. Not only was she restrained by the shackles on both her wrists and her ankles, but now Meghan was almost straddling her at the waist, making it almost impossible for Jamie to move from side to side.
“Uh-oh,” Meghan teased as she continued tickling. “Your shirt is riding up a bit. I see some skin,” she sang. “I wonder if it’s more ticklish directly on the skin?” she pondered out loud, darting her fingernails across the tiny corridor of bare skin on Jamie’s stomach that had become exposed.
Meghan wasn’t sure it was possible, but Jamie’s laughter went up another octave as she felt the teasing nails of Meghan’s fingertips flutter across her stomach. True, the thin material of the camisole hadn’t been providing a lot of tickle-defense against Meghan’s attack, but it was at least something. The bare skin of Jamie’s stomach offered no defense whatsoever, and worse, with no material between Meghan and Jamie’s ticklish spot, Meghan was free to use her fingernails - those weapons of mass destruction - to her complete advantage. And use them she did, leaving no inch of Jamie’s skin untouched, eventually allowing one finger to flow into the hollow of Jamie’s bellybutton as if it had been sucked into a whirlpool.
“You weren’t kidding about being ticklish, Jamie,” Meghan teased as she watched Jamie slip deeper and deeper into hysteria with each cackle of laughter. Meghan eased up a bit, wanting to give Jamie an opportunity to catch her breath and also wanting to relish in the moment of teasing Jamie about her ticklishness.
Jamie gulped each breath of air as quickly as she could, trying desperately to catch her breath after her bout of nonstop hysterical laughter.
“Please…” Jamie begged as she took in as much air as she could. “Too ticklish… Can’t… take… anymore.”
“Awww, but there’s still so much area left to explore,” Meghan said. “And I haven’t even had a chance to try this yet…” she said as she darted her fingers quickly underneath the side of Jamie’s camisoles so her fingers now rested on the bare skin of Jamie’s sides.
Unprepared, Jamie jumped so much she nearly cast Meghan off of her completely, the momentary feat of strength completely reduced once the laughter again took over Jamie’s body. The break had been too short, but there was nothing Jamie could do. She tried to plead for more time, tried to beg for mercy, but no words came out. As before, the assault on her bare skin was too much, though this was somehow worse than the attach on her stomach. Maybe it was how the tight material of her camisole served to almost trap Meghan’s hands under the shirt that added to the vulnerability. Whatever the reason, this attack seemed more effective than others, and Jamie was helpless.
Meghan said nothing, letting her fingers do the talking as they skittered their way up and down Jamie’s ticklish sides, her laughter music to Meghan’s ears. She looked down and saw Jamie’s stomach, still exposed after the attack on Jamie’s belly button and only riding up more and more with each squirm of laughter. A devious smile formed on Meghan’s face and she quietly leaned her head down closer to Jamie’s stomach before blowing a giant raspberry on her unsuspecting skin.
Jamie threw her head back and fell into silent laughter, the dual attack on both her stomach and her sides too much to handle at once. Unable to even curl her body to even remotely block Meghan’s access to her stomach, Jamie could do nothing but sit there and take it as Meghan blew raspberry after raspberry after raspberry on her exposed stomach. Meghan inhaled deeply and let out one final raspberry, louder and longer than all the others. Jamie thought it could get no worse, but then she felt it…
Meghan’s tongue… Lightly, at first, almost as if it were shyly coming out of its cave, gaining confidence with each passing second, investigating its surroundings. Meghan traced her tongue delicately along Jamie’s unprotected stomach, taking pure joy in seeing the effect it was having on Jamie.
Of course, Meghan was no stranger to this technique, having herself been the victim of it just this past summer. Sure, it wasn’t anything like the conditions in which Jamie found herself now, but that hadn’t made it any less effective. It happened with a friend, after a day at the beach. The two girls had been lazily sipping on some wine as they reclined on the sofa in Meghan’s apartment, gossiping about this and that as they recovered from a full day in the sun. At one point, the subject of men came up, as it always seemed to, and Meghan’s friend had mentioned something that the guy she had been seeing at the time had done to her. Sensing Meghan’s curiosity, her friend had offered to demonstrate it on Meghan, so she leaned in closer to Meghan’s stomach, still exposed with only the bikini top on, and suctioned on with her mouth, sliding her tongue across Meghan’s stomach quickly and effortlessly. It had, of course, been more than Meghan could handle from the start, the ticklish feeling causing a paroxysm of laughter to escape from Meghan’s mouth as she desperately tried to pull her friend’s mouth from her torso. Eventually, her friend relinquished, but Meghan was left with goosebumps up and down her body and a thirst for more. She hadn’t had another opportunity until tonight.
For her part, Jamie was beside herself battling the two very different sensations resonating throughout her body. Her mind had been brought from arguably the most ticklish tickle attack yet with the combination of the raspberries and the rib tickling to… something else entirely. Yes, they both still tickled, to be sure. But there was something different about feeling Meghan’s tongue against her stomach. She wanted it to stop… but she also didn’t. It tickled like mad… but it also felt good. Her body hoped Meghan would end the tickling and focus solely on the tongue. Of course, the proximity of Meghan’s fingers as they were tickling her ribs to Jamie’s breasts, when combined with the tongue gliding across Jamie’s stomach, was also driving Jamie mad.
Meghan smiled as she saw the goosebumps forming on Jamie’s body, confirming that this was indeed having the same effect on Jamie as it had had on her before. With Meghan’s face pressed against Jamie’s taut stomach, Meghan could see each tiny goosebump form and grow with each pass of the tongue. Meghan felt Jamie’s leg muscles begin to try to squeeze together, her torso arching up off the bed just a bit. ‘Ooo, Jamie has a naughty side,’ Meghan thought to herself as she watched Jamie battle both the tickling and the tongue at the same time.
Eventually, Meghan relinquished her grip on Jamie’s stomach, sitting back and watching with delight as Jamie tried to gain control of her body again. Jamie needed oxygen from all of the laughter that she had produced, but her body was still taking deep breaths as it cooled off from the other sensation Meghan had caused.
“Just so many ticklish spots,” Meghan teased Jamie.
“Please,” Meghan pleaded, still trying to catch her breath. “Enough. Please.”
“Are you ready to admit to flirting with all the members of the Board?” Meghan asked, testing to see if Jamie had learned her lesson yet.
“Meghan, I promise, nothing like that has ever happened,” Jamie pleaded. “Nothing.”
“I was hoping you’d be stubborn like that,” Meghan said, shifting her positioning again so that she could place the tips of her fingernails on each of Jamie’s arms. “You know where I’m headed now, Jamie?” Meghan teased as her fingers slowly made their way to their destination.
“No! Yes! Don’t!” Jamie begged, shouting out any words that she could think of to prevent Meghan from doing what she was about to do. There was no stopping the inevitable, though, and soon Meghan’s fingernails found their way into the follows of Jamie’s armpits and began drawing circles all across the delicate skin.
“Ticklish underarms, too?” Meghan teased, though the answer to her question was readily apparent. Jamie’s laughter filled the room as Meghan continued lazily drawing circles within the deep coves of Jamie’s under arms. Of course, with only the camisole on as a shirt, there was no fabric of any kind to prevent Meghan’s fingers from exploring every inch of Jamie’s underarms.
Not that Jamie could answer anyways, as her body had once again fallen into a stream of steady laughter as Meghan’s fingernails found their way around her underarms. It was maddening. The entire thing… Not being able to see.. The tickling… Jamie was nearing her breaking point, especially after having experienced such a completely different reaction just a few moments ago. Now, again, she was in the throes of laughter, fighting an ever-losing battle as her body betrayed her.
Meghan stopped quickly and leapt off the bed, walking over to her dresser to retrieve something. Jamie heard a bottle cap open and something being squeezed out.
“What is that?” Jamie asked warily, afraid of what else Meghan might have in store for her.
“Just a little baby oil,” Meghan said with evil intent, resting herself back on the bed and positioning herself above Jamie.
“Baby..?” Jamie asked bewilderedly. “Why would you ne.. AH HA HA HA HA.” Though unable to finish her sentence, Jamie soon find out why Meghan needed the baby oil, as Meghan began generously applying the baby oil all over Jamie’s already-sensitive underarms. The mere application of the baby oil was more than Jamie could handle, as it took little time for her to fall into deep hysteria as Meghan’s fingers swiped the oil across Jamie’s skin.
Meghan was delighted to see that the oil had the effect that she had been hoping. She set herself in a comfortable position and began tickling in earnest, dancing her fingers across the oiled underarms of Jamie. There was little Jamie could do but laugh. She tried shaking her head left and right repeatedly, to try to push the tickly feeling away, but that accomplished nothing. As had been the trend with every tickle attack thus far, this one seemed much worse than the last, much more effective against Jamie.
In getting comfortable, Meghan had positioned her left leg so that it was essentially straddling Jamie’s right leg, Meghan’s leg covering Jamie’s leg until roughly the knee area, where the two legs then rested side-by-side. Though her current predicament offered her little room for movement, Jamie had been able to squirm her body a little each way, and that squirming now resulted in Jamie’s leg rubbing against Meghan’s leg with each movement.
Meghan registered the sensation immediately, the feeling of Jamie’s pantyhose rubbing against her own pantyhose almost overwhelming her entirely. Meghan dropped her head a little to examine what was happening. Good lord, did it feel nice. As much disdain as Meghan held for Jamie, there was no denying Jamie’s beauty, and now the gentle caress of Jamie’s leg against Meghan’s leg was melting Meghan into a pile of mush. Meghan shook her head as if to refocus and inched further up to have a better look at her target.
Amidst the constant shaking of her head, Jamie’s blindfold had come loose and was now no longer tied and, thus, no longer covering Jamie’s face. It made little difference, though, since Jamie’s eyes were pressed shut as the laughter flowed freely from her mouth. She felt Meghan’s body hovering over her own, but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say - so overwhelmed was she with laughter.
Meghan watched with a smile as she saw the laughter completely consume Jamie. Meghan thought for a moment to all of the presentations Jamie had given at work, where she had reached her arms out to point out something on a slide presentation. She thought how funny it would have been had someone used that opening to start tickling Jamie under her arms. Not that anyone ever would, of course… But it would be cute to see Little Miss Perfect transform from polished businesswoman to hysterical mess with something as simple as a tickle.
And then Meghan noticed Jamie’s nose again, all scrunched up as she laughed. Gosh, she did look cute when laughing. As Meghan’s fingers continued twirling away in the hollows of Jamie’s armpits, Meghan daydreamed about an alternate reality, maybe one where she and Jamie were actually friends. How fun it would be to have a friend this ticklish, Meghan thought to herself, imagining the many scenarios in which she’d likely sneak in a tickle on her unsuspecting friend.
It was all becoming too much for Meghan, ironically. Involuntarily, she had begun to squeeze her own hips together - just as Jamie had done earlier when Meghan’s tongue had invaded - and Meghan noticed she was now rotating her leg to enhance the sensation of Jamie’s leg against her own. She looked down at Jamie, her eyes still clenched shut, laughter spewing from her mouth. She… wanted to kiss her? Really? What? No. No, it couldn’t be. Meghan wasn’t like that. This was just Jamie using her power on someone else again, but Meghan would not be a victim. Meghan leaned up and asked Jamie if she had had enough.
Through her gasping for breath, Jamie begged. “Y… Yes…” she pleaded. “Please. No more tickling.”
“Are you ready to admit that you’ve flirted your way to the top?” Meghan demanded.
“I promise, Meghan,” Jamie said. “It’s nothing like that. You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand completely,” said Meghan, not wanting to admit that she, too, almost fell victim for Jamie’s trap. “I understand that you want to keep getting tickled,” she said, inching her body down a bit.
“No!” shouted Jamie with as much gusto as she could muster. “Please. No more tickling.”
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. “You know where I’m actually super ticklish?” Meghan asked, as if having a casual conversation with a friend. “Not many people know this,” Meghan confided, “and now I’m kind of curious if you’re ticklish there, too,” she said.
Out of Jamie’s view, Meghan began lightly tracing the tip of one fingernail over the exposed thighs on each of Jamie’s legs. Jamie jolted as if struck by a bolt of lightning. “Oh, you are ticklish there,” Meghan said. “How cute,” she added, never allowing her fingernails to lose contact with Jamie’s thighs.
Jamie begged and pleaded through her laughter, but few complete words were actually formed. She was beside herself. There wasn’t an inch of skin on her body that wasn’t ticklish, and Meghan seemed determined to find every last tickle spot.
“Yeah, isn’t this a crazy ticklish spot?” Meghan asked Jamie, as if expecting an actual response. “I think it’s actually worse right here,” Meghan said, shifting the emphasis of her attack to Jamie’s inner thighs, which were now more exposed than previously because of all of the squirming Jamie had done. “Oh yeah, right there,” said Meghan, confirming that she had found the spot as she saw Jamie’s laughter level increase. “Of course, what really gets me,” said Meghan, as she fished around Jamie’s inner thighs. “There’s this little tiny bit of skin right here,” Meghan said, pointing it out with a tickle, “that when someone does this,” she said, lightly pinching the delicate skin of Jamie’s inner thighs.
Jamie’s head shot up briefly with laughter before crashing back down on the pillow, completely consumed with laughter once again. Jamie was reaching her breaking point. There was no break; every new tickle seemed more ticklish than the last, and as time wore on, her body’s ability to do anything other than sit and laugh was decreasing. Not that there was much of a defense she could mount when shackled in the way that she was, but it was clear that her body was giving up.
“And it’s so much worse with pantyhose, isn’t it?” Meghan remarked, continuing her soliloquy. “I mean, it’s bad even without them, but it’s almost like,” Meghan said, pausing, “the pantyhose make it more ticklish,” she said, adding emphasis to each word for effect.
Jamie nodded her head yes through her laughter. She didn’t know why she bothered to respond to Meghan’s question, but she had. Of course, it was true. Jamie had always been insanely ticklish. Jamie in pantyhose, though, was a completely different ballgame, something those who knew about were more than happy to use to their advantage. The thought, now, of not being able to defend against this left Jamie feeling helpless.
Meghan continued her assault on Jamie’s helpless thighs, watching with glee as Jamie slipped deeper and deeper into silent laughter. Meghan relished in the complete control she had over Jamie at this point, repeatedly pinching Jamie’s sensitive thighs through her pantyhose as Jamie gasped for air.
Meghan stopped, not wanting Jamie to pass out or anything. That had actually become a nuisance for Meghan, she found. She was thoroughly enjoying herself tickling Jamie as she lay defenseless, and she greatly enjoyed discovering spots on Jamie’s body that were more and more ticklish. But that meant Jamie’s body could take less and less tickling with each spot. She wanted to teach Jamie a lesson, but she didn’t want to kill her. That’s why tickling had been such a great idea. It was sure to send the message that Meghan wanted to send, and Jamie would likely not want anyone else to know what happened for fear of other people knowing how ticklish she was But it meant, of course, that she didn’t get to tickle the more ticklish spots for too long at a time.
“Ready to admit it yet?” Meghan asked one more time.
“There’s nothing to admit!” Jamie begged. “I haven’t tried to flirt with anyone!” she said, trying to reason with Meghan and becoming desperate as she realized that Meghan simply would not believe her.
“Oh, good,” Meghan said, sliding off to bed slowly. “I was hoping you’d say that. There’s one more spot I wanted to try,”
“NO!” Jamie screamed, realizing where Meghan was heading as she made her way to the foot of the bed. “Meghan, no! Not my feet!”
“Awww, why not?” Meghan teased. “Why should Barb get to have all the fun?”
“Meghan, no!” Jamie pleaded frantically. ‘I’ll.. I’ll quit my job,” she offered, trying anything to reason with Meghan to stop what was about to happen. “I’ll leave. You won’t have to deal with me ever again,” Jamie begged.
“Quit your job?” Meghan asked, surprised to her Jamie make such an offer. “A minute ago you wouldn’t admit what you had done and now you’re ready to quit your job?” Meghan asked. “Exactly how ticklish are these feet of yours?” Meghan asked, realizing that she had most definitely found a weak spot on Jamie.
“Just don’t,” Jamie pleaded, not wanting to answer the question. “I’ll do anything. I won’t even give a notice if you don’t want me to. You win. Please,” she said. “Please. Not my feet.”
“I don’t know,” Meghan said, not at all expecting this. “Now I’m kind of curious to see what you’re trying to hide,” Meghan said with a smile.
Even though she didn’t want to admit it, and even though it was painfully obvious to all those involved, what Jamie was trying to hide was just how over-the-top ticklish her feet were. There were no proper words to describe it. Really ticklish. Super ticklish. Crazy ticklish. Ridiculously ticklish. Insanely ticklish. Deathly ticklish. None of them adequately described just how ticklish Jamie’s feet were. They had long been her wear spot, her sister’s go-to spot in tickling when they were younger. And time had not helped Jamie, at all. If anything, Jamie’s feet were more ticklish now than even when she was a child, the unfortunate side effect of years and years of nightly moisturizing to retain a feminine appearance. Pedicures were out of the question. Heck, fuzzy slippers were even out of the question. It was all Jamie could do just to put her pantyhose on every morning without accidentally tickling herself. And now here she was, trapped, defenseless, the only thing protecting them from certain doom a pair of ankle booties that Jamie hoped for dear life would be difficult to get off.
“Shall we?” Meghan asked, leaning down to get to work. As she unzipped the zipper on Jamie’s left ankle bootie, Jamie began laughing.
“Oh God, don’t!” Jamie pleaded through her laughter.
“I haven’t even started yet,” Meghan said.
“Please!” Jamie begged, her laughter becoming more and more consistent. “It tickles!”
“What does?” Meghan asked, not really sure what was causing Jamie to already be laughing.
“The zipper!” Jamie squealed out.
“The zipper?” Meghan asked, looking down at Jamie’s booties. Could it be? Could the mere act of the zipper rubbing against Jamie’s foot be ticklish enough to Jamie to reduce her to laughter? “Are you even serious right now?” Meghan asked, genuinely having a difficult time believing what she was seeing. She continued to pull the zipper up and down, though, to see if it would continue its effect.
“Yes!” Jamie said, unable to stop laughing.
“Don’t you have socks on over your pantyhose?” Meghan asked, laughing. Jamie could only shake her head no. As Meghan pulled the zipper down again, she peeked inside Jamie’s shoe and, sure enough, there was no sock to be found. “So even the zipper tickles?” Meghan asked one more time, just to confirm.
“Yes!” Jamie said. “Please, anywhere but my feet!” she begged, knowing that if a zipper tickled this much, there was no telling what damage Meghan’s nails would inflict on her.
Meghan smiled as she saw the obvious effect this was having on Jamie. It was simply too cute. Little Miss Perfect… So ticklish that even a zipper would send her into hysterics… And without even the benefit of socks to cover her feet. And soon, without even the benefit of the ankle booties for protection. But first, this was too much fun to rush through, and Meghan continued to pull up and down on the zipper of the bootie, taking joy in watching Jamie struggle against the ticklish sensation.
“Meghan, please!” Jamie shouted through her laughter. “It tickles!” she said, trying to do so in a stern manner though obviously failing in her intent because of the laughter.
“Honey, I see that it tickles,” Meghan said. “That’s why I’m doing it,” she said with a smile.
“Stop!” Jamie begged, not knowing how much more of it she could take without losing her mind.
“OK, I’ll stop,” said Meghan, a bit too easily. Jamie arched her head up to see what Meghan was up to - something she was all too eager to share. “Besides,” Meghan said in an almost-seductive tone. “I think it’s time we find out what’s hiding underneath these booties, anyways,” Meghan said, tapping the side of Jamie’s boots.
Jamie frantically tugged at the bonds, digging for any last ounce of strength that she might have to try to free herself from her impending doom. “No, no, no, no” Jamie repeated through her thrashing. “You can’t do this!”
“Looks like I don’t even have to,” Meghan said. “Keep thrashing like that and those booties will be all the way off on their own,” she said with a chuckle. Indeed, that Meghan had left Jamie’s booties unzipped coupled with the constant thrashing motion of Jamie trying to free herself from the shackles had resulted in Jamie’s booties sliding off her feet on their own. With the zipper compromised, there was little holding the booties onto Jamie’s feet, especially factoring in the slippery fabric of the nylons.
Jamie instantly stopped thrashing as she realized what she was involuntarily doing. “Please…” Jamie pleaded.
“I’ll be taking those,” Meghan said, plucking the booties from Jamie’s feet and revealing the flawless pair of feet to her tormentor. “My word,” Meghan said, truthfully in awe at how soft and polished Jamie had seemingly kept her feet, “Do you ever even walk on these?” she said with a laugh.
“Meghan!” Jamie yelled, trying to gain some sense of control in what was going on despite not having any at all. “What do you want?” she begged. “I’ll pay you. I told you I’ll leave. Just tell me what you want!” she begged.
“Honey,” Meghan said, leaning down to whisper to Jamie. “Honestly, all I really want right now is to find out just how ticklish these feet of yours are,” she said with a smile.
“Nooo!” Jamie yelled. “Please! They’re ticklish! They’re really ticklish! Please, Meghan, not my feet,” she pled one more time.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Meghan said with a smile. “I need to find out on my own,” she said, walking back to the foot of the bed and kneeling down so she was out of Jamie’s sight.
“Meghan, no!” Jamie begged. “We can w-hahahahahahaha.” Jamie’s words disintegrated into uncontrollable laughter as soon as her body registered Meghan’s finger sliding along the bottom of her foot. It was worse than she imagined it would be! The ticklish sensation shot through her body with each pass of Meghan’s finger. Meghan was hardly even tickling her, truth be told. She was just lazily dragging her finger up and down the bottom of Jamie’s foot, but it was enough. Jamie couldn’t form words through her laughter, not that her mind could even come up with any type of coherent words to say.
Meghan couldn’t hide her delight, laughing out loud as she saw how effective just one finger was on Jamie’s unprotected foot. She continued her torture, almost becoming drunk on the laughter that she was forcing out of Jamie’s mouth. Her finger slid effortlessly against the nylons covering Jamie’s feet, following every inch and every contour. If one finger proved to be this effective, what would happen with more? In Meghan’s mind, there was only one way to find out, and with that, she adjusted her attack technique from just one finger to a full, all-out tickle attack.
Jamie’s body shot to attention as the feeling of the additional fingers on the bottom of her foot registered. She let out a howl and immediately fell into silent laughter, unable to make any kind of sound. There hadn’t been an inch of Jamie’s skin that hadn’t been ticklish to Meghan’s touch yet, but this… this was an entirely different level. Jamie’s feet had often been a target of would-be ticklers, but she had never been restrained as she was now, unable to do a single thing to defend herself.
Meghan was too laser-focused to notice how badly Jamie was struggling. Meghan’s eyes shone squarely on the bottom of Jamie’s feet, intently analyzing the work she was performing, watching to make sure she didn’t put a run in Jamie’s pantyhose. The tips of her fingers explored every area of sensitive skin - tracing along the heel, brushing on the sole, prying under the toes, and doing anything and everything to the arches. Not that any spot wouldn’t be ticklish enough for Jamie to surrender even her bank account PIN number, but it was clear that her arches were by far her weakest spot, Meghan had noticed.
With Jamie’s weakness identified, Meghan set about targeting that spot, dancing all of her fingers over the Jamie’s hyper-sensitive arch. So high were Jamie’s arches that her nylons didn’t actually touch her arch until Meghan’s fingers pressed them into action.
Jamie was in tickle-hell. Anytime it seemed that things could not get any worse, Meghan somehow found a way to make it tickle all the more. Why did Meghan have to focus on the arches? It was all too much… Jamie struggled for air, unable to break free from the pains of silent laughter, feeling helpless in knowing that as long as Meghan tickled her feet, there was no escape.
Meghan alternated hands to give some fingers a break, something she would not allow Jamie to have. She was lost in her own world, a world where she had complete and total control over her practically-perfect co-worker. She had forgotten all about why she had plotted this out against Jamie, about wanting to teach her a lesson. She was in tickle heaven and there was no escaping it.
Until…
It took Meghan a moment to notice that Jamie has gone limp. Of course, she had been in silent laughter for so long, it wasn’t odd that Meghan hadn’t heard any laughter. And since Jamie had been restrained, it wasn’t odd that Meghan hadn’t noticed Jamie stop moving. But there was no denying the facts - Jamie was passed out cold on the bed.
Meghan jumped to her feet nervously, not realizing how far she had taken the tickling. Jamie had actually passed out from the tickling? Could it be? Meghan shook Jamie’s leg to try to wake her, but there was no immediate response. As each second passed, Meghan became more and more nervous, worrying that she had taken things too far. She ran to the bathroom and filled up a cup of water, bringing it back into the room and sprinkling it over Jamie’s head, slowly reviving her captured colleague.
“M… Meghan?” Jamie said quietly, regaining consciousness.
“You OK?” Meghan asked, concerned just as much about Jamie’s condition as she was her own culpability.
“I… think so?” Jamie said, her voice growing concerned again as she realized that it hadn’t been a dream, that she actually was restrained on Meghan’s bed.
“I’m sorry?” Meghan said the inflection in her voice not sounding as sincere as it probably should have been.
“Please let me go,” Jamie begged once again. “I promise I’ve never done any of what you’ve said!”
“And why should I believe you?” asked Meghan, defiance in her voice.
“Because I used to be a man!” screamed Jamie, breaking into sobs as soon as the words came out. Her secret was out. She hadn’t planned on ever telling anyone, but she felt like she had no other choice, like there was no other way she could make Meghan believe her. Jamie tried to hide her head in shame as she cried, but of course, there was no way for her to do so.
“You… what?” Meghan asked, taking a step back as she processed the information. There was no way she used to be a man. Was there? How could someone so… so beautiful… used to be a man?
Jamie told her tale through her sobs, sharing everything from her struggle to fit in at school to the adjustments she had to make to fit in to how she handled it today. She bared her soul detail by detail. Clearly this hadn’t been how she ever intended for it to happen, but the more she spoke, the more it was almost cathartic to finally tell someone, to break free from the shame of hiding it.
“And that’s about it,” said Jamie, finishing her story. “So if you just let me go, I’ll get out of your life,” she said.
“No,” said Meghan.
“Meghan, please, I can’t…” Jamie began, worried Meghan had more tickling in mind.
“No, I mean you don’t have to get out of my life,” Meghan corrected.
“But…” Jamie said, taken aback by Meghan’s statement.
“Don’t go,” Meghan said, as she began releasing Jamie’s wrists from their restraints. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll go,” she said, the pangs of guilt eating away at her now that she knew the truth. “I’m the jerk here. I should be the one to resign.”
“No, you don’t have to go,” Jamie said. “I didn’t really want people knowing this about me. Now that the cat is out of the bag… I’ll go,” Jamie said. “It’ll just be easier.”
“No,” Meghan repeated. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you right now,” Jamie said with an eye of suspicion.
“I deserve that,” Meghan said, helping Jamie sit up once both wrists were free of their restraints. “Just… don’t go.”
“You know the silliest part of all of this?” Jamie asked.
“What’s that?”
“If I were guilty of having a crush on anyone or trying to flirt with anyone, it was you,” Jamie admitted.
“Me?” Meghan asked, shocked.
“Yeah.” Jamie explained the mini-crush she had developed on Meghan, from the first time she had met her in the office to each time Meghan had brushed her off. What the heck, right? Meghan already knew everything else. Why hide this? Jamie mentioned how she thought it was adorable how Meghan would always blow her hair out of her face whenever she was hard at work. How she’d tap her pencil on the desk repeatedly while on the phone. How she always hoped she’d someday look over at her desk and see Meghan smile back… “So…” Jamie said, finishing her story. “That’s that.”
Meghan was touched. Butterflies had been forming in her stomach as she listened to Jamie discuss how she felt. Did Meghan feel the same way? Was all of her animosity towards Jamie the product of her own crush? There was no denying what Meghan had felt earlier, when the simple act of tickling Jamie had excited her unexpectedly. Maybe that IS what it was… There was no animosity. Just repressed feelings.
“Jamie, please don’t go,” Meghan said, holding onto Jamie’s hand. “Can we start over?”
“It’s going to be hard to forget about this,” said Jamie, motioning with her head to the shackles that still held her ankles in place.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Meghan asked. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Jamie thought for a moment, a smile slowly forming on her face.
“I don’t know,” Jamie said, unable to contain her smile and clearly no longer upset with Meghan. “Are you ticklish?”
Below is my latest work. I took a brief break from the Katy & Amber story line. I have about half of the next story all written, but I think I need some time to reflect on that series a bit, figure out where it's going. I want to take it in one direction, but it seems people would rather see it in another. In the meantime, this popped into my head.
It does involve a transgender individual.
As for writing, I think it might be one of my better pieces that I've shared in this forum, at least in terms of character development. Hopefully you feel the same. I'd be curious your feedback, both in terms of the writing but also the subject matter (namely the transgender individual). I'm not sure what the 'market' is here for such a thing. It's fairly long (almost 30 pages single-spaced), so you might need some time to read it.
Anyways, happy reading, as always,
OldEnglish
Jamie & Meghan: The Walls of Animosity (f/f nylons)
It had been almost a year since Jamie had begun her job at Mendix. The company, a medium-sized corporation, was housed in a quaint section of the city, its offices headquartered in an old industrial building that had been converted to business space. Jamie had been drawn to the company because of its opportunity for advancement; indeed, Jamie had been promoted two times since beginning at the company.
About to reach thirty years of age, Jamie was half-your average, everyday girl next door and half-unlike anyone you had met before. Jamie was on the taller side, about 5’8” in her bare feet and reaching 6’ when walking around the office in heels. She considered herself relatively attractive; some of her office cohorts would say she was being modest. Many wondered whether her long brown hair and sparkling brown eyes had helped her work as a model prior to joining Mendix. That, of course, was not the case, and any time one of her work friends joked about it, Jamie would always blush.
What made Jamie different than everyone else, though, was the fact that Jamie hadn’t always been Jamie. Well, she was always Jamie, but rather, she wasn’t always the Jamie that she presented as today. Jamie had been born a man, and after years of soul-searching and internal debate, she finally made the decision a few years ago that she was tired of living the lie and wanted the female that she knew lived deep inside of her to shine through. Thus, Jamie began the transformation process, slowly at first, sharing her story with a few close friends and, of course, family members, before exploring gender reassignment surgery. Jamie couldn’t have asked for a better result. The surgery and the associated hormone doses had produced the inner Jamie that had been hiding all along.
Of course, none of her coworkers knew that part of Jamie’s history. Not one for a lot of attention to begin with, Jamie certainly did not want that part of her life broadcast. She was both unwanting of the extra attention that it might carry were it known to all, and also fearful of the reaction that some might have if they knew the truth. Thus, people just knew her as Jamie, and no one really thought twice when she would brush off questions about her youth, just assuming that she did not wish to share that part of her personal life.
What Jamie’s coworkers saw above all else was a warm, caring individual. The person who always made sure to make it to the monthly birthday party at work, always with a card for those celebrating that month. The person who would always volunteer to assist on a project or cover you if you needed help with something. What Jamie’s coworkers saw was a beautiful person, both on the inside and out.
Unfortunately, not all of Jamie’s coworkers shared that same image of Jamie. Meghan had taken an instant dislike to Jamie as soon as Jamie was hired. Jamie had, of course, done nothing to Meghan to warrant such a response; rather, much of Meghan’s impression of Jamie had been formed from her own jealousy. The little things that Jamie did - things that no one else would even notice - had gotten under Meghan’s skin and fueled the disdain she held for Jamie. ‘Why does she always have to wear heels to work?’ Meghan would think to herself as she would see Jamie walk by her desk. ‘Isn’t she tall enough already?” ‘There she is again,’ Meghan would think to herself at the company birthday parties. ‘Always with a card for everyone and always the loudest singer during Happy Birthday!’ ‘Does she have to always be smiling so much?’ Meghan would think as she watched Jamie in conversation with others. ‘Why is she always so happy?’ All juvenile stuff, to be sure. Of course, the real root of Meghan’s dislike of Jamie stemmed from the fact that she saw Jamie as competition - competition for the prettiest girl in the office, competition for the attention of the guys in the office, and competition for future promotions. Meghan had convinced herself that Jamie had used “means outside of work” to secure her promotions, though she, of course, had no actual evidence to back any of that up.
Juvenile or not, those thoughts had festered within Meghan’s mind for the better part of the last year, and on this particular day, for no reason whatsoever, Meghan had decided that she had had enough of Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes and that she needed her out of Mendix, one way or another.
***
Jamie sat in the break room, sipping her coffee as she played the day’s challenge on her favorite cell phone app. Today was like any other day. Jamie had come to work and changed out of her Keds sneakers - which she used for walking from the train - into a pair of heels, her traditional black pumps that she wore around the office. They paired well with the black pencil skirt that she wore in addition to the white blouse she wore under the gray sweater. A pair of suntan pantyhose covered her legs and provided a little extra warmth on this crisp day. It was something of a standard outfit for Jamie. Sure, she’d vary it up from time - perhaps a more vibrant blouse, maybe a pair of black pantyhose - but she mostly stuck to the traditional attire that one would expect around an office.
The only thing different about this day than most others was the fact that Jamie’s heels had been causing her a little more trouble than usual. Nothing serious by any means, of course, but Jamie took advantage of the opportunity that an empty break room table afforded to slip her right foot out of the heel and prop it up on the chair to the side. Her 5’8” frame let her extend her leg with ease while still remaining seated regularly at the table.
After a few minutes, Meghan walked into the breakroom, heading to the company refrigerator to pour herself a glass of orange juice.
“Hey, Meghan,” Jamie greeted cheerfully as Meghan walked by the table.
“Hey,” Meghan said flatly, trying not to sound rude but not wanting to express any joy in talking to Jamie. ‘Why does she have to be so cheerful?’ Meghan thought to herself as she reached on her tiptoes for a glass from the cupboard.
“Do you want a hand reaching that?” Jamie asked, seeing the struggle that her 5’1” colleague was having reaching the glass. Even in her heels, that second shelf was always a reach for Meghan. She hated that people insisted on putting the cups on the second shelf.
“No, thanks,” said Meghan, her back still to Jamie as she reached. She made an exaggerated gagging-face to the cupboard that no one but the cupboard could see. “Just need… got it,” she said, readjusting her feet in her heels, as they had popped out a bit from having to reach up so high.
“Well, I’m always happy to help,” said Jamie, who went back to playing the app on her phone.
“Yes, I know,” said Meghan, rolling her eyes as she poured the orange juice in the glass. “So what are you working on there? I didn’t think you took breaks,” she said, intending for the last comment to be a jab at Jamie but making it sound like it wasn’t.
“Oh, just this app that my friend got me hooked on,” Jamie said, offering her phone. “You want a try?”
“No, thanks,” said Meghan, not really wanting to have to socialize with Jamie anymore than she had already done.
The break room door swung open one more time and Barb entered the room. Barb was somewhat like the office mother. An older woman only in comparison to the rest of the staff - roughly in her late forties or early fifties - Barb had been with the company since its inception. She was generally well-liked and well-respected in the office, even if sometimes people hoped they could avoid one her stories that would always begin with, “I remember a time when…”
Jamie and Barb exchanged pleasantries as Barb walked past the table - ‘Of COURSE she would make sure she said ‘hi’ to Barb,’ Meghan muttered in her head.
Meghan shifted to her left a little so Barb could reach into the silverware drawer. ‘Just look at her there,’ Meghan mumbled to herself in her head. ‘She thinks she’s so perfect. Always offering to help,’ she continued, pausing her inner diatribe to fake a smile at Barb. ‘Is there anything about her that ISN’T perfect?’
Barb finished pouring herself a cup of coffee and had plated herself a muffin as she walked over to the break room table. She placed her coffee and muffin on the table, and then looked around for an open chair. Ordinarily, the break room would hold four or five chairs, but they were often pulled into neighboring conference rooms for larger meetings. Today seemed to be such a day, as the only two chairs in the room were the one on which Jamie was sitting and the one on which her leg was resting.
Barb looked over to Meghan and nodded her head in the direction of the “open” chair, offering it to her since she had been in the room longer. Meghan flashed a fake smile and waved her hand, passing on the offer. She didn’t plan on being in the break room for that long, anyways, and she surely did not want to spend time sitting next to Jamie. Barb smiled back and nodded, acknowledging Meghan’s message.
Before Barb could pull the chair out to sit, though, she noticed Jamie’s foot dangling off the edge of the seat; she hadn’t realized that Jamie had been using the chair as a leg rest. She looked to Jamie to see if she would move, but saw Jamie too engrossed in the app on her phone to notice that Barb was trying to sit down.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Barb asked politely, reaching down and giving a quick tickle to the center of Jamie’s foot as encouragement to move.
“Ah!” Jamie yelled as she felt Barb’s finger on her foot, jumping so high that she banged her leg on the underside of the table. Jamie quickly pulled her leg down and slid her foot back into the heel that rested below. “Yeah, of course,” she said, brushing the hair that had come out from out of her face. “I’m sorry.”
Barb was still chuckling from Jamie’s reaction. “Oh, no bother,” she said, sitting herself down in the chair at last. She smiled at Jamie, and then nodded her head to the floor where Jamie’s feet now where, and asked, “A little ticklish, are we?”
Jamie blushed and instinctively hid her head in her hands a bit. “You could say that,” she said, knowing there was no use denying the fact after that reaction.
“Not to worry,” Barb chuckled again. “I won’t tell… too many people,” she said with a laugh.
“Now, Barb,” Jamie said, laughing a little herself as she gave Barb the “don’t you dare” gaze.
“On second thought,” Barb said, still finding delight in her discovery. “Maybe I’ll keep it to myself. Now I know how to get you to do all of my work for me,” she said with a laugh, dancing her fingers in the air in a tickling motion to show what she meant
Jamie laughed. Even though she was the butt of Barb’s teasing at the current moment, she has always found Barb’s sense of humor a delight.
“You laugh, Barb,” Jamie said as she began to get up. “But that would totally work,” she admitted, figuring there was no danger in confession the effectiveness of such a tactic as there was no real threat of Barb tickling her at work again. “My sister used to tickle me all the time growing up, and she wouldn’t stop until I agreed to do whatever chore she wanted me to do,” Jamie said, offering a rare glimpse of her past to a colleague.
“Did it work?” Barb asked, still chuckling.
“She was my sister,” Jamie said with a smile as she got up from the table and walked to the door. “She knew my weakness.”
“That’s what sisters are for,” Barb said as Jamie walked out of the room, still chuckling a little to herself as she sat alone.
Meghan felt like she was going to puke. ‘Could that have been any more obnoxious?’ she thought to herself. Did she really have to be nice to Barb? Barb, of all people? ‘Anyone else would have complained to HR about Barb,’ Meghan thought to herself, sipping her juice. ‘But not Little Miss Perfect,’ Meghan said, so full of disgust that she openly shook her head as she finished her juice.
Meanwhile, Barb was still slightly chuckling from the experience, obviously pleased with herself. “Haven’t seen someone that ticklish in the office since Linda left,” Barb said out loud to no one in particular, perhaps forgetting that Meghan was even in the room. “So ticklish, so cute,” she said, taking a bite of her muffin.
‘Oh my word,’ Meghan thought to herself as she watched Barb fawn over Jamie. She turned to put her cup in the sink so she wouldn’t have to see Barb’s smile anymore. ‘Just when I thought people around here couldn’t think she was any more perfect,’ Meghan continued in her mind. ‘Of COURSE she’s ticklish,’ Meghan thought, scrubbing her cup with a little extra emphasis because of her anger. ‘Little Miss Perfect WOULD be…’ she thought to herself, pausing washing her cup and looking up as if she had just had an ephiany. ‘Ticklish,’ she finished her thought.
Of course! That was it. The opening Meghan needed to finally get to Jamie, to make it clear where she stood. What had Jamie said? Being ticklish was her ‘weakness’? It was how her sister used to get her to do whatever she wanted? That it would still work if Barb had tried her foolish plan? It was perfect. Meghan was actually a little miffed at herself for not having thought of it before. It only stood to reason that Jamie would be the kind of person to be incredibly ticklish. Jamie frequently spoke of getting her nails done, and though she had never confided to anyone of the pedicure experience being unbearable tickle torture, it only stood to reason that someone who got pedicures as often as Jamie seemed to would have soft feet. Jamie was also unabashadley fond of her moisturizers, constantly having at least three different kinds on her desk at work. And then, of course, there was the undeniable evidence of Jamie essentially jumping out of her skin when Barb had tickled her foot.
Yes, it was decided… Tickling would be the tool Meghan would use to finally put Jamie in her place… to finally teach her a lesson.. But where? And how?
***
“Good morning, Jamie,” Meghan said, walking up to Jamie’s desk after logging in for work. A couple of days had passed since Meghan had come up with her plan and today she hoped to put it into action.
“Hey… Meghan,” Jamie said, a little shocked to see Meghan saying good morning first. Of course, Jamie had no idea of the true level of disdain that Meghan held for her, but Jamie had been cognizant enough to recognize that Meghan hadn’t been one to go out of her way to be friendly with her.
“Listen,” Meghan said, grabbing a rolling chair and bringing it next to Jamie’s desk. “I actually have a favor to ask,” Meghan said, knowing full well there was no way someone as “kind and sweet” as Jamie would ever turn down an opportunity to help a coworker.
“Yeah, sure,” said Jamie, happy, in part, to see Meghan finally perhaps softening her stance a bit. “What’s up?”
“I’m just having trouble with this project,” Meghan said. “I was wondering if, I don’t know, you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand?”
“Yeah, of course,” Jamie said with a huge smile before her smile turned flat. “But I’m just swamped today with meetings,” Jamie said, pointing to her date book on the desk.
“How about this?” Meghan said, happy that her plan was falling perfectly into place. “Are you doing anything after work? How would you feel about swinging by my house after work and working on it then?” she asked, knowing that such an offer might seem unheard of from Meghan. “I’ll even throw in some Chinese food for your troubles, if you don’t mind takeout,” she added, subtly adding in a hopeful expression in the form of her best puppy dog eyes.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, a little unsure of where this side of Meghan was coming from all of a sudden but being thankful to see it. “But I take the train in,” she said, not wanting it to seem like she was continually coming up with reasons not to help her colleague.
“Perfect,” said Meghan, wiping away that excuse immediately. “We can drive to my place together in my car,” she offered. “I don’t mind dropping you off afterwards, and it’ll give us some time to talk about stuff other than work,” she added.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, a smile covering her face. “I’d like that,” she said, happy to have seemingly cracked the hardest colleague finally.
“Great,” said Meghan, patting Jamie on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at five then,” she said, getting up and walking away.
“Yeah,” said Jamie, still smiling as the click-clock of Meghan’s heels faded in the distance.
Meghan was more than pleased with herself. Her plan couldn’t have gone any better had she written it. Meghan hated the fact that she had to be be nice to Jamie, even just for the small time that the two had spoken at Jamie’s desk, and knew that the only way she’d be able to get through the evening was knowing what she had in store for her new friend, Jamie. Knowing that Jamie would be powerless against the tickling that Meghan planned to unleash of her later that night…
Jamie, too, was pleased with herself, but for a very different reason, obviously. Though she wasn’t sure of the reason, she was very happy to see that Meghan had seemingly softened her stance towards her. Jamie had always wondered what she had done to cause Meghan to try to distance herself from her as much as she did; never one for confrontation, though, Jamie had figured the best approach was to let things play out naturally. And now, it seemed that Meghan had finally warmed to Jamie, which made Jamie very happy.
Of course, there was also a little something else that had caused Jamie’s smile to form. Despite very much appearing as a woman in her present state, there was no denying that Jamie was born a man. And though she had done all she could to distance herself from that Jamie, the issue of her own sexuality was one that she hadn’t yet figured out. All she knew was that she still liked women, though she knew that her… past… would certainly make any chance of a relationship with one all but impossible. Still, there had always been something about Meghan that had caught Jamie’s eye. Maybe it was, indeed, the way Meghan had treated her. Maybe Jamie had fallen for the cliche “bad kid”. And to be sure, it wasn’t necessarily that Jamie was smitten by any means - indeed, it would be difficult to do so with someone who wouldn’t even give you the time of day - but the elusiveness that Meghan had shown to Jamie had certainly kindled, at the very least, a slight crush in Jamie’s eyes towards Meghan. Thus, having the opportunity to spend some time with Meghan getting to know each other was certainly one that Jamie did not want to pass up.
***
“I appreciate you giving me a lift,” Jamie said from the passenger seat, doing her best to make the awkward small talk that makes car rides move along faster.
“Oh, nonsense,” said Meghan. “I’m the one indebted to you,” Meghan added, choking on her words as they came out. “I really appreciate you helping me out,” she said.
It was difficult for Meghan to come up with this faux sincerity towards Jamie. At the same time, she was trying to both force herself to be cordial with Jamie and also try to contain the feeling of pure jubilation that was building knowing that her plan was about to come to fruition. Meghan looked over to Jamie and smiled, though the smile was more a show of how perfectly this had come together than any kinship towards Jamie.
Jamie had worn the perfect outfit for Meghan’s plan to be effective. Though conservative in nature, Meghan took note of how many potential ticklish spots were either exposed or vulnerable. As per usual, Jamie had worn a light camisole under an open sweater. The camisole clung to Jamie’s sides, hugging her skin along the way. Meghan had worn such a camisole many times in her life and knew first-hand how little protection the thin material offered against a tickle attack. The camisole added another benefit, though, as the thin straps that held the camisole over the shoulder provided absolutely no coverage for one’s underarms. This might not be on consequence were one wearing a solid top over the camisole, but when such a camisole is paired with an open sweater, any would-be tickler has free access to the exposed under arms of her victim. Further down, Jamie’s pencil skirt, though tasteful and suitable for the work environment, came to an end slightly above her knee - again, an otherwise inconsequential detail, but that slightly shorter hem meant that not only were Jamie’s calves fair game, but her knees - and possibly her thighs, as well - would be left defenseless against a tickle attack.
But if all that weren’t good enough…. If that combination wasn’t already enough to spell Jamie’s ticklish demise this evening… There was one more piece… One more element… The piece de resistance… The only element of Jamie’s wardrobe that Meghan knew guaranteed that her ticklish plan would be successful…
Pantyhose.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be obvious to someone far away because of the similarity in color hue between the suntan color of the pantyhose and the natural tan glow of Jamie’s skin, but an up close and person look left no doubt that Jamie’s legs were adorned in pantyhose. Meghan didn’t really have any doubt. Jamie always wore pantyhose. OF COURSE she always wore pantyhose… But given how the universe seemed to always shine down on Jamie, Meghan had had some doubts, some worry that perhaps this might have been the ONE day Jamie bypassed her pantyhose drawer in the morning and opted for something more covering.
Meghan knew the pantyhose would be Jamie’s downfall. She couldn’t help but smile at herself in the mirror this morning imagining Jamie getting dressed, sliding on her pantyhose with no idea what danger she was putting herself in. Jamie was ticklish. Thanks to Barb, there was no questioning that. Jamie was very ticklish. Jamie had also almost jumped out of her skin when tickled on her foot while wearing pantyhose just a few days ago. Again, hat tip to Barb for that one… Even if all else failed… If by some chance, Jamie wasn’t ticklish on her sides or her stomach or her neck or under her arms… Those pantyhose guaranteed success on Jamie’s lower half.
Another smile formed on Meghan’s face as she drove in the darkness as she contemplated how fool-proof her plan was shaping to be. She hadn’t necessarily considered it at the time, of course, but Jamie’s penchant for wearing pantyhose played perfectly into Meghan’s plan. Meghan knew all too-well from her own first-hand experience the drawbacks that a pair of pantyhose offered to a pair of ticklish feet. Never one to make it out of a pedicure chair unscathed to begin with, Meghan had an extensive history of boyfriends, friends, family members, and roommates not only discovering but also taking advantage of the fact that pantyhose only exacerbated what was painfully obvious - Meghan’s feet were ridiculously ticklish. Of course, having ticklish feet was nothing new to Meghan; since she was little, she had been surrounded by people more than willing to send Meghan into hysterics. But as she had aged and entered the professional world, dealing with the disadvantage that a pair of pantyhose offers had become a much more common occurrence for Meghan; indeed, even if it was just her mom sneaking in a tickle for old-times-sake, Meghan had found that she was far more likely to be tickled when wearing pantyhose than when not - at least when her feet were involved.
And though Meghan, herself, was also clad in a pair of pantyhose this evening, she was confident that there was no chance of her getting tickled, for if nothing else, she intended to keep her shoes on throughout the evening. And though she couldn’t quite claim to have thought the plan out in this great of detail, she reasoned, now, that her wearing pantyhose herself was rather critical to the success of the evening. Were Meghan to remain in her work attire - specifically, the pantyhose and heels she currently had on - Jamie would likely feel compelled to remain in her work attire. Not that Jamie had access to a change of clothes, of course, but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for one to remove her pantyhose in the restroom. No, that simply couldn’t happen. Now that Meghan knew Jamie was wearing pantyhose, those pantyhose had to remain on throughout the evening, even if it meant Meghan was leaving herself a little vulnerable in the meantime. It was a calculated risk, to be sure, but the fact that Jamie had no prior knowledge of Meghan’s ticklish level and the fact that a goody-good like Jamie wasn’t likely to tickle a coworker reassured Meghan that it was a gamble worth taking.
Of course, even with the pantyhose, there was the pesky little matter of Jamie’s footwear. Though normally one to wear a basic pump similar to the heels Meghan was currently wearing, Jamie had today instead opted to wear a pair of ankle booties. Coming in at just around - if not slightly below - her ankle, Jamie’s booties still, of course, maintained the four inch heel that Jamie was known to wear. Though they wouldn’t be as easy for Meghan to remove as a pair of pumps would have been - a zipper went up the instep of each bootie and would need to be pulled down to remove the shoe - Meghan knew very well that after a long day of walking around in four inch heels, Jamie would likely welcome any opportunity to rid herself of those heels.
Meghan glanced one more time over to Jamie, who was looking out the passenger window at the moment. It was almost sad to see someone seemingly so innocent having no idea she was being driven to her demise. If Meghan didn’t have as much disdain for Jamie as she did, she might even feel bad for her. Of course, it was impossible to feel bad for someone who… well, for someone who was just so… someone just so perfect. Right?
Jamie felt Meghan’’s gaze and turned and saw Meghan smiling at her; she smiled back, catching Meghan off-guard.
“I don’t think I told you how much I love your outfit,” said Jamie, looking for ways to soften Meghan a little more, perhaps.
“Oh,” said Meghan, genuinely caught off-guard again by the compliment. It wasn’t often that people gave her an authentic compliment. “Thank you,” she said, flattered by Jamie’s words. “And I, uh,” Meghan stammered, looking for words. “I love your shoes,” she said, shifting her attention back to her focus. “They must be killer to walk in all day,” she added.
“They’re not the easiest,” Jamie admitted, turning her leg to get a better glimpse of her shoes. Truth was, Jamie would have taken these booties off as soon as the clock struck five with the same alacrity of Fred Flintstone punching out of work . Her trusty pair of comfortable white Keds were sitting in her bag; on any other day, they would be on her feet providing her feet a soft pillow of comfort after a long day in heels. But today was not just any other day. Today was the day that Meghan had finally taken an interest in her, might finally be interested in even being friends. Jamie needed her best presentation. Therefore, no matter the pain, no matter the anguish, no matter how much her feet called for her Keds… The heels would remain on for the duration of the evening. No pain, no gain.
***
“And actually,” Jamie said, working her way through the spreadsheet program. “This will actually save you a lot of time moving forward,” she said, showing Meghan another shortcut for her work.
“Wow,” Meghan said, amazed at how much she had actually learned from Jamie this evening. “Thank you so much,” she said, genuinely. That Meghan needed help for a project had simply been a ruse to get Jamie outside of the office walls, but Jamie had made one helpful suggestion after another and shown Meghan ways to greatly reduce how long it took her to complete her tasks.
“Oh, girl, it’s no problem,” said Jamie, patting Meghan on the arm and smiling. Meghan giggled a bit. “What’s so funny?” asked Jamie.
“Oh, nothing,” said Meghan. “It’s just,” she began. “It’s just that when you smile, your nose sort of crinkles up a bit,” said Meghan, trying to demonstrate on her own nose.
“Oh, that,” laughed Jamie, slightly embarrassed “People have been making fun of me for that for years,” she admitted, hiding her nose under her hand..
“No,” said Meghan. “It’s cute,” she said, smiling back at Jamie. Could Meghan have been wrong about Jamie this entire time? Was she just a genuinely nice person? Was it Meghan who had been in the wrong this entire time?
“Do you want some more wine?” Meghan asked, snapping herself out of her gaze and bringing her back to reality.
“Oh, gosh no, thank you,” said Jamie, looking down at her cup. “It’s still a work night tonight,” she said jokingly. “I wouldn’t mind some coffee if you have some, though,” she said.
“Yeah, no problem,” said Meghan. “I’ve got one of those coffee pod makers. I’ll be right back,” she said, getting up and making her way into the kitchen.
Meghan smiled to herself as she reached the counter. What had been happening tonight? Her view of Jamie had seemingly shifted entirely, no longer viewing her as a menace but rather someone who could possibly be… a friend? What had happened? No. No, Meghan had a plan and she needed to see that plan through.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Meghan asked.
“Sure,” said Jamie, walking into the kitchen.
“Have you ever been tied up?”
Jamie laughed, caught completely off-guard by Meghan’s question.
“I should probably explain,” said Meghan, who began weaving the layers of her trap in place. It was simple, really. Pretend that someone had asked Meghan to be tied up, with Meghan appearing uncertain about doing so. Ask Jamie for help. There was no way someone as nice as Jamie would say no to helping someone. Then, once she’s tied down and helpless, commence.
“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” said Jamie with a nervous laugh. It was certainly one of the more outrageous things anyone had ever asked her to do, but a friend in need, right?
Jamie cautiously slid onto the bed, both in slight trepidation and also to ensure that she did not mess up the comforter with her shoes. Using one hand to hold her skirt in place, she turned and landed on her back; then, after ensuring that there were no wardrobe malfunctions, she spread her arms and her legs to assume the spread-eagle position that would be needed to demonstrate the restraints.
“Oh my gosh,” said Meghan, faking her appreciation to Jamie. “Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she said as she set Jamie’s wrists in place with the handcuffs. Meghan then wandered to the foot of the boot to secure Jamie’s ankles in place.
“Just try not to put a run in my pantyhose,” Jamie said as she felt the shackles wrap around her ankle.
“I’ll be gentle,” Meghan said with a fake smile, knowing full well that a run in her pantyhose was the last thing that Jamie should be worrying about right now.
When Jamie was finally secured, Meghan stepped back and examined what lay before her. Jamie pretended to struggle to free herself from the shackles, laughing at herself to help ease her own awkwardness.
“Can you get out?” asked Meghan.
“No,” said Jamie, again giving the shackles a tug. “I’m in here pretty good.”
“Good,” said Meghan, no longer presenting the faux-compassion she had been showing for Jamie.
“Could you maybe let me out now?” Jamie asked, looking herself over as best she could given her predicament. “Kind of in a tight spot here,” she said, again laughing awkwardly at the situation.
“I actually don’t think so,” she Meghan, putting her pointer finger to her chin. “You see, Jamie, ever since you arrived at Mendix, it seems like everyone has been falling for your act,” Meghan said with anger.
“Act?” Jamie asked, now visibly nervous. “Meghan, what are you talking about? Can you please just let me go?”
“You know what I mean,” Meghan said. “Little Miss Perfect… Little Miss Never Late to Work, Always Willing to Stay Late if Needed… Well, it’s not fair,” Meghan said. “I’ve watched you get opportunity after opportunity that should have gone to me!” Meghan continued.
“Wha…” Jamie began, not sure how to even comprehend what was going on. “What are you even talking about Meghan? Come on,” she said. “You’re scaring me.”
“Maybe you should be scared, Jamie,” Meghan said, bending down to be face-to-face with her now-captive guest. “You see, women like you need to be taught a lesson.”
“Women like me?” Jamie asked. “Meghan, I honestly have no idea what you mean,” Jamie pleaded, shaking at her shackles again. “Please,” she begged. “Just… Just let me go and we pretend this never happened, OK?”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy for you, Jamie,” Meghan said, leaning in closer to Jamie. “It’s time you were cut down a bit,” Meghan went on. “Maybe shown what it’s like when things don’t always go your way. Maybe it’s time you find out what it’s like when you can’t run to the bosses and charm your way out of something,” Meghan said with almost a snarl.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Jamie begged.
“Come on,” Meghan said. “Don’t pretend. I know you have Mr Smith and the rest of the board wrapped around your finger, just like you wanted,” Meghan said. “The way you wink. The way you smile. ‘Of course, Mr. Smith.’ ‘I’d love to, Mr. Smith.’ Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing!”
“Meghan, I PROMISE,” Jamie pleaded. “There’s nothing like that at all.” Jamie continued to shake her head as Meghan levied more and more charges against Jamie, each more outrageous than the last.
“So I’ve finally had enough,” Meghan said after her diatribe. “And it’s time for you to pay the price.”
“Meghan, please,” Jamie begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Oh sweetie,” Meghan said, now almost nose-to-nose with Jamie. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “I think I know a much more effective way of teaching you a lesson,” she continued, pausing for a moment before adding “thanks to Barb” in a devilish whisper.
“Thanks to…?” Jamie began, confused for a moment before realizing Meghan’s intentions. “NO!” she screamed as she remembered the incident in the break room a few days prior. “Meghan, no,” Jamie begged, trying one more time to break free from the shackles that bound her. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s the matter, Jamie?” Meghan asked, taunting her prey. “A little ticklish?” she asked with a smile.
“Meghan, please,” Jamie begged, trying to think in vain of a way she could possibly get out of this predicament. There was no use denying it. Meghan knew Jamie was ticklish; it had been on full display in the breakroom that day. Jamie kicked herself as she remembered the level of detail that she had gone into explaining to Barb just how ticklish she was. Why did she have to say it was her weakness? Why hadn’t she just played it off like she was startled? And worse, why had she agreed to test out these restraints for Meghan? Meghan, who up until this morning would change direction in the hallway to avoid having to say hi to Jamie… Meghan, who up until this morning had never shown any inclination of friendship towards Jamie… Jamie couldn’t believe how helpless she was in this situation.
“Meghan, this has to be a joke, right?” Jamie asked, hoping that a calmer voice of reason would flush out the joke behind this.
“Oh, it’s no joke,” Meghan said, walking over to her nightstand to pick something up. “You’ll be laughing your head off, of course,” Meghan said, laughing at her own joke. “But it’s no joke.”
“Meghan, why? Why are you doing this?” Jamie begged. Knowing she was innocent to the claims Meghan had levied against her made such a fate like this seem all the worse. “I never did any of th.... Whoa, what’s that?” Jamie asked, her fear growing as she saw Meghan walking back over to the bed.
“Just a little blindfold,” Meghan said, leaning down again near Jamie. “I hear being blindfolded really heightens the experience,” Meghan added. “Doesn’t it also increase your other senses?” Meghan asked with an eyebrow raised. “Like, say, a heightened sense of touch?” she continued, leaning down and putting the blindfold over Jamie’s eyes. It wasn’t an easy task, as Jamie twisted and turned and squirmed as much as her restraints would allow, but in just a few moments, the room had gone dark in Jamie’s eyes.
“Meghan, pleaaaaase,” Jamie said, starting to cry. “Please don’t do this. Please,” she said, repeating herself over and over.
“For someone as ticklish as you say you are,” Meghan said, “This must be your worst fear, right?”
“Yes! Meghan!” Jamie answered, continuing to plead for mercy, to try to change Meghan’s mind somehow.
Meghan looked at Jamie as she lay on her bed. She almost couldn’t believe it. Her plan was coming to fruition. She had Jamie helpless, free to do anything she pleased to her. Dozens of ticklish spots seemed to be calling out to Meghan, as if they were little bullseyes showing the user where to target. Jamie continued pleading for mercy. It was almost sad, Meghan thought to herself. Someone so polished, someone so put together, someone so perfect… To be reduced to such a pitiful state by the mere threat of tickling…
For a moment, Meghan, again, had her doubts. Should she really go through with this? It was clearly something that was very traumatic for Jamie. Was what Jamie had done to Meghan really worth what was about to come to Jamie? ‘What was it she did again?’ Meghan asked herself, again on the edge of calling the entire thing off. She looked over to her dresser where she saw the keys to the handcuffs. Jamie didn’t really deserve this, did she? Did ANYONE deserve this? After all, Jamie had come here tonight out of the goodness of her own heart, had helped Meghan in ways Meghan didn’t even know she needed…
For a moment, Meghan considered her own body, as well - how it would feel to have so many ticklish spots exposed with no way of defending them. It wasn’t that hard to do, as Meghan’s outfit today very nearly matched Jamie’s. Meghan thought how horrified she would be if her bare underarms were wide open… What she would do if someone had free access to her sides… How crazy she would go if she couldn’t defend herself against someone tickling her feet in pantyhose… For a moment, Meghan nearly had a change of heart…
“Please, Meghan?” Jamie begged. Though unable to see anything in the room, she hoped that the last few moments of inactivity signified a change of heart in Meghan’s view, perhaps a chance that Jamie might get out of this. “Meghan, I’m so ticklish,” Jamie admitted, finally saying the actual words. “There’s no way I can handle this. You saw how much I jumped in the break room just from Barb! Please!” Jamie begged.
Jamie’s pleading was almost hypnotic to Meghan, though it had the opposite effect of what Jamie had intended. If anything, Jamie’s admission and description of being ticklish had only rekindled the desire within Meghan. There would be no turning back. No, Meghan had gone this far already. She had to finish it off.
“Relax, sweetie,” Meghan said, kneeling on the bed in between Jamie’s legs so she had complete access to Jamie’s upper body. “Does anyone know you’re here?” Meghan asked, changing her tone for a moment.
“N.. No,” Jamie stammered.
“Oh goodie,” said Meghan with delight. “Then I can tickle you all night long and no one will even notice!” she said.
“All night?” Jamie shrieked, realizing more and more as each second passed that this wasn’t some nightmare she was having. That this was actually happening. “Meghan, please,” Jamie continued. “There’s no way,” she began. “There’s no way I can take being tickled all night,” she said.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Meghan said with a devilish smile. “Now where should we start?” she asked, smiling even more as she saw Jamie again squirm and pull at her shackles, all to no avail. “Must drive you nuts not having any idea where my fingers are headed, huh?” Meghan asked as her fingers zeroed in on their target.
“Yes,” Jamie said quickly. “Meghan, please I can-ha HA HA HA HA HA.” Her words were cut off. She meant to tell Meghan that she wouldn’t be able to handle being tickled, but words were not needed. It was plainly obvious.
Jamie began laughing hysterically as Meghan’s fingers made contact with Jamie’s sides. It was music to Meghan’s ears. Truth be told, even though she came in knowing full well that Jamie was ticklish, Jamie’s initial reaction to Meghan tickling her sides had surprised Meghan. Meghan didn’t even think she was tickling Jamie all that much, just some light “piano-playing” of her fingers up and down Jamie’s sides - over her camisole, no less - but Jamie was already overwhelmed with laughter. There was no more begging. No more pleading. Nothing but pure, unfiltered laughter streaming from Jamie’s mouth as Meghan’s fingers continued to tickle the ivories.
Jamie hadn’t been prepared for such a tickle attack. Even though Meghan had told her it was coming, Jamie’s mind was so filled with despair that she couldn’t prepare herself for the ticklish attack. Of course, not that any amount of preparation in the world would have left Jamie better suited to withstand this tickle. Her sides had often been the target of would-be ticklers; as one of the most easily accessible of the usual tickle spots, many friends and family members took delight in sneaking in a quick poke of Jamie’s sides to see her jump, to say nothing of the torture that was trying to take a picture with someone whose hand was wrapped around her and resting on her side. But never before had she been this vulnerable. Sure, some friends had held her arms up in the air to make Jamie an easier target once or twice in the past, but never before had she been restrained, unable to pull her arms down to even partially protect her ticklish sides. She could do nothing but sit there and take it. And laugh.
“Oooh my,” said Meghan with glee. “What a ticklish little one we have here, huh?” she asked as her fingers continued to dance over the thin material of the camisole. “Oh my gosh,” Meghan teased. “I can see your ribs,” she joked as her fingers poked each rib up and down Jamie’s sides. There was no relent from Meghan. No spot less ticklish than the last. No technique less effective than another.
Jamie twisted and turned her body as much as she could, trying in vain to distance her sides from Meghan’s fingers. It was no use. Not only was she restrained by the shackles on both her wrists and her ankles, but now Meghan was almost straddling her at the waist, making it almost impossible for Jamie to move from side to side.
“Uh-oh,” Meghan teased as she continued tickling. “Your shirt is riding up a bit. I see some skin,” she sang. “I wonder if it’s more ticklish directly on the skin?” she pondered out loud, darting her fingernails across the tiny corridor of bare skin on Jamie’s stomach that had become exposed.
Meghan wasn’t sure it was possible, but Jamie’s laughter went up another octave as she felt the teasing nails of Meghan’s fingertips flutter across her stomach. True, the thin material of the camisole hadn’t been providing a lot of tickle-defense against Meghan’s attack, but it was at least something. The bare skin of Jamie’s stomach offered no defense whatsoever, and worse, with no material between Meghan and Jamie’s ticklish spot, Meghan was free to use her fingernails - those weapons of mass destruction - to her complete advantage. And use them she did, leaving no inch of Jamie’s skin untouched, eventually allowing one finger to flow into the hollow of Jamie’s bellybutton as if it had been sucked into a whirlpool.
“You weren’t kidding about being ticklish, Jamie,” Meghan teased as she watched Jamie slip deeper and deeper into hysteria with each cackle of laughter. Meghan eased up a bit, wanting to give Jamie an opportunity to catch her breath and also wanting to relish in the moment of teasing Jamie about her ticklishness.
Jamie gulped each breath of air as quickly as she could, trying desperately to catch her breath after her bout of nonstop hysterical laughter.
“Please…” Jamie begged as she took in as much air as she could. “Too ticklish… Can’t… take… anymore.”
“Awww, but there’s still so much area left to explore,” Meghan said. “And I haven’t even had a chance to try this yet…” she said as she darted her fingers quickly underneath the side of Jamie’s camisoles so her fingers now rested on the bare skin of Jamie’s sides.
Unprepared, Jamie jumped so much she nearly cast Meghan off of her completely, the momentary feat of strength completely reduced once the laughter again took over Jamie’s body. The break had been too short, but there was nothing Jamie could do. She tried to plead for more time, tried to beg for mercy, but no words came out. As before, the assault on her bare skin was too much, though this was somehow worse than the attach on her stomach. Maybe it was how the tight material of her camisole served to almost trap Meghan’s hands under the shirt that added to the vulnerability. Whatever the reason, this attack seemed more effective than others, and Jamie was helpless.
Meghan said nothing, letting her fingers do the talking as they skittered their way up and down Jamie’s ticklish sides, her laughter music to Meghan’s ears. She looked down and saw Jamie’s stomach, still exposed after the attack on Jamie’s belly button and only riding up more and more with each squirm of laughter. A devious smile formed on Meghan’s face and she quietly leaned her head down closer to Jamie’s stomach before blowing a giant raspberry on her unsuspecting skin.
Jamie threw her head back and fell into silent laughter, the dual attack on both her stomach and her sides too much to handle at once. Unable to even curl her body to even remotely block Meghan’s access to her stomach, Jamie could do nothing but sit there and take it as Meghan blew raspberry after raspberry after raspberry on her exposed stomach. Meghan inhaled deeply and let out one final raspberry, louder and longer than all the others. Jamie thought it could get no worse, but then she felt it…
Meghan’s tongue… Lightly, at first, almost as if it were shyly coming out of its cave, gaining confidence with each passing second, investigating its surroundings. Meghan traced her tongue delicately along Jamie’s unprotected stomach, taking pure joy in seeing the effect it was having on Jamie.
Of course, Meghan was no stranger to this technique, having herself been the victim of it just this past summer. Sure, it wasn’t anything like the conditions in which Jamie found herself now, but that hadn’t made it any less effective. It happened with a friend, after a day at the beach. The two girls had been lazily sipping on some wine as they reclined on the sofa in Meghan’s apartment, gossiping about this and that as they recovered from a full day in the sun. At one point, the subject of men came up, as it always seemed to, and Meghan’s friend had mentioned something that the guy she had been seeing at the time had done to her. Sensing Meghan’s curiosity, her friend had offered to demonstrate it on Meghan, so she leaned in closer to Meghan’s stomach, still exposed with only the bikini top on, and suctioned on with her mouth, sliding her tongue across Meghan’s stomach quickly and effortlessly. It had, of course, been more than Meghan could handle from the start, the ticklish feeling causing a paroxysm of laughter to escape from Meghan’s mouth as she desperately tried to pull her friend’s mouth from her torso. Eventually, her friend relinquished, but Meghan was left with goosebumps up and down her body and a thirst for more. She hadn’t had another opportunity until tonight.
For her part, Jamie was beside herself battling the two very different sensations resonating throughout her body. Her mind had been brought from arguably the most ticklish tickle attack yet with the combination of the raspberries and the rib tickling to… something else entirely. Yes, they both still tickled, to be sure. But there was something different about feeling Meghan’s tongue against her stomach. She wanted it to stop… but she also didn’t. It tickled like mad… but it also felt good. Her body hoped Meghan would end the tickling and focus solely on the tongue. Of course, the proximity of Meghan’s fingers as they were tickling her ribs to Jamie’s breasts, when combined with the tongue gliding across Jamie’s stomach, was also driving Jamie mad.
Meghan smiled as she saw the goosebumps forming on Jamie’s body, confirming that this was indeed having the same effect on Jamie as it had had on her before. With Meghan’s face pressed against Jamie’s taut stomach, Meghan could see each tiny goosebump form and grow with each pass of the tongue. Meghan felt Jamie’s leg muscles begin to try to squeeze together, her torso arching up off the bed just a bit. ‘Ooo, Jamie has a naughty side,’ Meghan thought to herself as she watched Jamie battle both the tickling and the tongue at the same time.
Eventually, Meghan relinquished her grip on Jamie’s stomach, sitting back and watching with delight as Jamie tried to gain control of her body again. Jamie needed oxygen from all of the laughter that she had produced, but her body was still taking deep breaths as it cooled off from the other sensation Meghan had caused.
“Just so many ticklish spots,” Meghan teased Jamie.
“Please,” Meghan pleaded, still trying to catch her breath. “Enough. Please.”
“Are you ready to admit to flirting with all the members of the Board?” Meghan asked, testing to see if Jamie had learned her lesson yet.
“Meghan, I promise, nothing like that has ever happened,” Jamie pleaded. “Nothing.”
“I was hoping you’d be stubborn like that,” Meghan said, shifting her positioning again so that she could place the tips of her fingernails on each of Jamie’s arms. “You know where I’m headed now, Jamie?” Meghan teased as her fingers slowly made their way to their destination.
“No! Yes! Don’t!” Jamie begged, shouting out any words that she could think of to prevent Meghan from doing what she was about to do. There was no stopping the inevitable, though, and soon Meghan’s fingernails found their way into the follows of Jamie’s armpits and began drawing circles all across the delicate skin.
“Ticklish underarms, too?” Meghan teased, though the answer to her question was readily apparent. Jamie’s laughter filled the room as Meghan continued lazily drawing circles within the deep coves of Jamie’s under arms. Of course, with only the camisole on as a shirt, there was no fabric of any kind to prevent Meghan’s fingers from exploring every inch of Jamie’s underarms.
Not that Jamie could answer anyways, as her body had once again fallen into a stream of steady laughter as Meghan’s fingernails found their way around her underarms. It was maddening. The entire thing… Not being able to see.. The tickling… Jamie was nearing her breaking point, especially after having experienced such a completely different reaction just a few moments ago. Now, again, she was in the throes of laughter, fighting an ever-losing battle as her body betrayed her.
Meghan stopped quickly and leapt off the bed, walking over to her dresser to retrieve something. Jamie heard a bottle cap open and something being squeezed out.
“What is that?” Jamie asked warily, afraid of what else Meghan might have in store for her.
“Just a little baby oil,” Meghan said with evil intent, resting herself back on the bed and positioning herself above Jamie.
“Baby..?” Jamie asked bewilderedly. “Why would you ne.. AH HA HA HA HA.” Though unable to finish her sentence, Jamie soon find out why Meghan needed the baby oil, as Meghan began generously applying the baby oil all over Jamie’s already-sensitive underarms. The mere application of the baby oil was more than Jamie could handle, as it took little time for her to fall into deep hysteria as Meghan’s fingers swiped the oil across Jamie’s skin.
Meghan was delighted to see that the oil had the effect that she had been hoping. She set herself in a comfortable position and began tickling in earnest, dancing her fingers across the oiled underarms of Jamie. There was little Jamie could do but laugh. She tried shaking her head left and right repeatedly, to try to push the tickly feeling away, but that accomplished nothing. As had been the trend with every tickle attack thus far, this one seemed much worse than the last, much more effective against Jamie.
In getting comfortable, Meghan had positioned her left leg so that it was essentially straddling Jamie’s right leg, Meghan’s leg covering Jamie’s leg until roughly the knee area, where the two legs then rested side-by-side. Though her current predicament offered her little room for movement, Jamie had been able to squirm her body a little each way, and that squirming now resulted in Jamie’s leg rubbing against Meghan’s leg with each movement.
Meghan registered the sensation immediately, the feeling of Jamie’s pantyhose rubbing against her own pantyhose almost overwhelming her entirely. Meghan dropped her head a little to examine what was happening. Good lord, did it feel nice. As much disdain as Meghan held for Jamie, there was no denying Jamie’s beauty, and now the gentle caress of Jamie’s leg against Meghan’s leg was melting Meghan into a pile of mush. Meghan shook her head as if to refocus and inched further up to have a better look at her target.
Amidst the constant shaking of her head, Jamie’s blindfold had come loose and was now no longer tied and, thus, no longer covering Jamie’s face. It made little difference, though, since Jamie’s eyes were pressed shut as the laughter flowed freely from her mouth. She felt Meghan’s body hovering over her own, but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say - so overwhelmed was she with laughter.
Meghan watched with a smile as she saw the laughter completely consume Jamie. Meghan thought for a moment to all of the presentations Jamie had given at work, where she had reached her arms out to point out something on a slide presentation. She thought how funny it would have been had someone used that opening to start tickling Jamie under her arms. Not that anyone ever would, of course… But it would be cute to see Little Miss Perfect transform from polished businesswoman to hysterical mess with something as simple as a tickle.
And then Meghan noticed Jamie’s nose again, all scrunched up as she laughed. Gosh, she did look cute when laughing. As Meghan’s fingers continued twirling away in the hollows of Jamie’s armpits, Meghan daydreamed about an alternate reality, maybe one where she and Jamie were actually friends. How fun it would be to have a friend this ticklish, Meghan thought to herself, imagining the many scenarios in which she’d likely sneak in a tickle on her unsuspecting friend.
It was all becoming too much for Meghan, ironically. Involuntarily, she had begun to squeeze her own hips together - just as Jamie had done earlier when Meghan’s tongue had invaded - and Meghan noticed she was now rotating her leg to enhance the sensation of Jamie’s leg against her own. She looked down at Jamie, her eyes still clenched shut, laughter spewing from her mouth. She… wanted to kiss her? Really? What? No. No, it couldn’t be. Meghan wasn’t like that. This was just Jamie using her power on someone else again, but Meghan would not be a victim. Meghan leaned up and asked Jamie if she had had enough.
Through her gasping for breath, Jamie begged. “Y… Yes…” she pleaded. “Please. No more tickling.”
“Are you ready to admit that you’ve flirted your way to the top?” Meghan demanded.
“I promise, Meghan,” Jamie said. “It’s nothing like that. You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand completely,” said Meghan, not wanting to admit that she, too, almost fell victim for Jamie’s trap. “I understand that you want to keep getting tickled,” she said, inching her body down a bit.
“No!” shouted Jamie with as much gusto as she could muster. “Please. No more tickling.”
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. “You know where I’m actually super ticklish?” Meghan asked, as if having a casual conversation with a friend. “Not many people know this,” Meghan confided, “and now I’m kind of curious if you’re ticklish there, too,” she said.
Out of Jamie’s view, Meghan began lightly tracing the tip of one fingernail over the exposed thighs on each of Jamie’s legs. Jamie jolted as if struck by a bolt of lightning. “Oh, you are ticklish there,” Meghan said. “How cute,” she added, never allowing her fingernails to lose contact with Jamie’s thighs.
Jamie begged and pleaded through her laughter, but few complete words were actually formed. She was beside herself. There wasn’t an inch of skin on her body that wasn’t ticklish, and Meghan seemed determined to find every last tickle spot.
“Yeah, isn’t this a crazy ticklish spot?” Meghan asked Jamie, as if expecting an actual response. “I think it’s actually worse right here,” Meghan said, shifting the emphasis of her attack to Jamie’s inner thighs, which were now more exposed than previously because of all of the squirming Jamie had done. “Oh yeah, right there,” said Meghan, confirming that she had found the spot as she saw Jamie’s laughter level increase. “Of course, what really gets me,” said Meghan, as she fished around Jamie’s inner thighs. “There’s this little tiny bit of skin right here,” Meghan said, pointing it out with a tickle, “that when someone does this,” she said, lightly pinching the delicate skin of Jamie’s inner thighs.
Jamie’s head shot up briefly with laughter before crashing back down on the pillow, completely consumed with laughter once again. Jamie was reaching her breaking point. There was no break; every new tickle seemed more ticklish than the last, and as time wore on, her body’s ability to do anything other than sit and laugh was decreasing. Not that there was much of a defense she could mount when shackled in the way that she was, but it was clear that her body was giving up.
“And it’s so much worse with pantyhose, isn’t it?” Meghan remarked, continuing her soliloquy. “I mean, it’s bad even without them, but it’s almost like,” Meghan said, pausing, “the pantyhose make it more ticklish,” she said, adding emphasis to each word for effect.
Jamie nodded her head yes through her laughter. She didn’t know why she bothered to respond to Meghan’s question, but she had. Of course, it was true. Jamie had always been insanely ticklish. Jamie in pantyhose, though, was a completely different ballgame, something those who knew about were more than happy to use to their advantage. The thought, now, of not being able to defend against this left Jamie feeling helpless.
Meghan continued her assault on Jamie’s helpless thighs, watching with glee as Jamie slipped deeper and deeper into silent laughter. Meghan relished in the complete control she had over Jamie at this point, repeatedly pinching Jamie’s sensitive thighs through her pantyhose as Jamie gasped for air.
Meghan stopped, not wanting Jamie to pass out or anything. That had actually become a nuisance for Meghan, she found. She was thoroughly enjoying herself tickling Jamie as she lay defenseless, and she greatly enjoyed discovering spots on Jamie’s body that were more and more ticklish. But that meant Jamie’s body could take less and less tickling with each spot. She wanted to teach Jamie a lesson, but she didn’t want to kill her. That’s why tickling had been such a great idea. It was sure to send the message that Meghan wanted to send, and Jamie would likely not want anyone else to know what happened for fear of other people knowing how ticklish she was But it meant, of course, that she didn’t get to tickle the more ticklish spots for too long at a time.
“Ready to admit it yet?” Meghan asked one more time.
“There’s nothing to admit!” Jamie begged. “I haven’t tried to flirt with anyone!” she said, trying to reason with Meghan and becoming desperate as she realized that Meghan simply would not believe her.
“Oh, good,” Meghan said, sliding off to bed slowly. “I was hoping you’d say that. There’s one more spot I wanted to try,”
“NO!” Jamie screamed, realizing where Meghan was heading as she made her way to the foot of the bed. “Meghan, no! Not my feet!”
“Awww, why not?” Meghan teased. “Why should Barb get to have all the fun?”
“Meghan, no!” Jamie pleaded frantically. ‘I’ll.. I’ll quit my job,” she offered, trying anything to reason with Meghan to stop what was about to happen. “I’ll leave. You won’t have to deal with me ever again,” Jamie begged.
“Quit your job?” Meghan asked, surprised to her Jamie make such an offer. “A minute ago you wouldn’t admit what you had done and now you’re ready to quit your job?” Meghan asked. “Exactly how ticklish are these feet of yours?” Meghan asked, realizing that she had most definitely found a weak spot on Jamie.
“Just don’t,” Jamie pleaded, not wanting to answer the question. “I’ll do anything. I won’t even give a notice if you don’t want me to. You win. Please,” she said. “Please. Not my feet.”
“I don’t know,” Meghan said, not at all expecting this. “Now I’m kind of curious to see what you’re trying to hide,” Meghan said with a smile.
Even though she didn’t want to admit it, and even though it was painfully obvious to all those involved, what Jamie was trying to hide was just how over-the-top ticklish her feet were. There were no proper words to describe it. Really ticklish. Super ticklish. Crazy ticklish. Ridiculously ticklish. Insanely ticklish. Deathly ticklish. None of them adequately described just how ticklish Jamie’s feet were. They had long been her wear spot, her sister’s go-to spot in tickling when they were younger. And time had not helped Jamie, at all. If anything, Jamie’s feet were more ticklish now than even when she was a child, the unfortunate side effect of years and years of nightly moisturizing to retain a feminine appearance. Pedicures were out of the question. Heck, fuzzy slippers were even out of the question. It was all Jamie could do just to put her pantyhose on every morning without accidentally tickling herself. And now here she was, trapped, defenseless, the only thing protecting them from certain doom a pair of ankle booties that Jamie hoped for dear life would be difficult to get off.
“Shall we?” Meghan asked, leaning down to get to work. As she unzipped the zipper on Jamie’s left ankle bootie, Jamie began laughing.
“Oh God, don’t!” Jamie pleaded through her laughter.
“I haven’t even started yet,” Meghan said.
“Please!” Jamie begged, her laughter becoming more and more consistent. “It tickles!”
“What does?” Meghan asked, not really sure what was causing Jamie to already be laughing.
“The zipper!” Jamie squealed out.
“The zipper?” Meghan asked, looking down at Jamie’s booties. Could it be? Could the mere act of the zipper rubbing against Jamie’s foot be ticklish enough to Jamie to reduce her to laughter? “Are you even serious right now?” Meghan asked, genuinely having a difficult time believing what she was seeing. She continued to pull the zipper up and down, though, to see if it would continue its effect.
“Yes!” Jamie said, unable to stop laughing.
“Don’t you have socks on over your pantyhose?” Meghan asked, laughing. Jamie could only shake her head no. As Meghan pulled the zipper down again, she peeked inside Jamie’s shoe and, sure enough, there was no sock to be found. “So even the zipper tickles?” Meghan asked one more time, just to confirm.
“Yes!” Jamie said. “Please, anywhere but my feet!” she begged, knowing that if a zipper tickled this much, there was no telling what damage Meghan’s nails would inflict on her.
Meghan smiled as she saw the obvious effect this was having on Jamie. It was simply too cute. Little Miss Perfect… So ticklish that even a zipper would send her into hysterics… And without even the benefit of socks to cover her feet. And soon, without even the benefit of the ankle booties for protection. But first, this was too much fun to rush through, and Meghan continued to pull up and down on the zipper of the bootie, taking joy in watching Jamie struggle against the ticklish sensation.
“Meghan, please!” Jamie shouted through her laughter. “It tickles!” she said, trying to do so in a stern manner though obviously failing in her intent because of the laughter.
“Honey, I see that it tickles,” Meghan said. “That’s why I’m doing it,” she said with a smile.
“Stop!” Jamie begged, not knowing how much more of it she could take without losing her mind.
“OK, I’ll stop,” said Meghan, a bit too easily. Jamie arched her head up to see what Meghan was up to - something she was all too eager to share. “Besides,” Meghan said in an almost-seductive tone. “I think it’s time we find out what’s hiding underneath these booties, anyways,” Meghan said, tapping the side of Jamie’s boots.
Jamie frantically tugged at the bonds, digging for any last ounce of strength that she might have to try to free herself from her impending doom. “No, no, no, no” Jamie repeated through her thrashing. “You can’t do this!”
“Looks like I don’t even have to,” Meghan said. “Keep thrashing like that and those booties will be all the way off on their own,” she said with a chuckle. Indeed, that Meghan had left Jamie’s booties unzipped coupled with the constant thrashing motion of Jamie trying to free herself from the shackles had resulted in Jamie’s booties sliding off her feet on their own. With the zipper compromised, there was little holding the booties onto Jamie’s feet, especially factoring in the slippery fabric of the nylons.
Jamie instantly stopped thrashing as she realized what she was involuntarily doing. “Please…” Jamie pleaded.
“I’ll be taking those,” Meghan said, plucking the booties from Jamie’s feet and revealing the flawless pair of feet to her tormentor. “My word,” Meghan said, truthfully in awe at how soft and polished Jamie had seemingly kept her feet, “Do you ever even walk on these?” she said with a laugh.
“Meghan!” Jamie yelled, trying to gain some sense of control in what was going on despite not having any at all. “What do you want?” she begged. “I’ll pay you. I told you I’ll leave. Just tell me what you want!” she begged.
“Honey,” Meghan said, leaning down to whisper to Jamie. “Honestly, all I really want right now is to find out just how ticklish these feet of yours are,” she said with a smile.
“Nooo!” Jamie yelled. “Please! They’re ticklish! They’re really ticklish! Please, Meghan, not my feet,” she pled one more time.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Meghan said with a smile. “I need to find out on my own,” she said, walking back to the foot of the bed and kneeling down so she was out of Jamie’s sight.
“Meghan, no!” Jamie begged. “We can w-hahahahahahaha.” Jamie’s words disintegrated into uncontrollable laughter as soon as her body registered Meghan’s finger sliding along the bottom of her foot. It was worse than she imagined it would be! The ticklish sensation shot through her body with each pass of Meghan’s finger. Meghan was hardly even tickling her, truth be told. She was just lazily dragging her finger up and down the bottom of Jamie’s foot, but it was enough. Jamie couldn’t form words through her laughter, not that her mind could even come up with any type of coherent words to say.
Meghan couldn’t hide her delight, laughing out loud as she saw how effective just one finger was on Jamie’s unprotected foot. She continued her torture, almost becoming drunk on the laughter that she was forcing out of Jamie’s mouth. Her finger slid effortlessly against the nylons covering Jamie’s feet, following every inch and every contour. If one finger proved to be this effective, what would happen with more? In Meghan’s mind, there was only one way to find out, and with that, she adjusted her attack technique from just one finger to a full, all-out tickle attack.
Jamie’s body shot to attention as the feeling of the additional fingers on the bottom of her foot registered. She let out a howl and immediately fell into silent laughter, unable to make any kind of sound. There hadn’t been an inch of Jamie’s skin that hadn’t been ticklish to Meghan’s touch yet, but this… this was an entirely different level. Jamie’s feet had often been a target of would-be ticklers, but she had never been restrained as she was now, unable to do a single thing to defend herself.
Meghan was too laser-focused to notice how badly Jamie was struggling. Meghan’s eyes shone squarely on the bottom of Jamie’s feet, intently analyzing the work she was performing, watching to make sure she didn’t put a run in Jamie’s pantyhose. The tips of her fingers explored every area of sensitive skin - tracing along the heel, brushing on the sole, prying under the toes, and doing anything and everything to the arches. Not that any spot wouldn’t be ticklish enough for Jamie to surrender even her bank account PIN number, but it was clear that her arches were by far her weakest spot, Meghan had noticed.
With Jamie’s weakness identified, Meghan set about targeting that spot, dancing all of her fingers over the Jamie’s hyper-sensitive arch. So high were Jamie’s arches that her nylons didn’t actually touch her arch until Meghan’s fingers pressed them into action.
Jamie was in tickle-hell. Anytime it seemed that things could not get any worse, Meghan somehow found a way to make it tickle all the more. Why did Meghan have to focus on the arches? It was all too much… Jamie struggled for air, unable to break free from the pains of silent laughter, feeling helpless in knowing that as long as Meghan tickled her feet, there was no escape.
Meghan alternated hands to give some fingers a break, something she would not allow Jamie to have. She was lost in her own world, a world where she had complete and total control over her practically-perfect co-worker. She had forgotten all about why she had plotted this out against Jamie, about wanting to teach her a lesson. She was in tickle heaven and there was no escaping it.
Until…
It took Meghan a moment to notice that Jamie has gone limp. Of course, she had been in silent laughter for so long, it wasn’t odd that Meghan hadn’t heard any laughter. And since Jamie had been restrained, it wasn’t odd that Meghan hadn’t noticed Jamie stop moving. But there was no denying the facts - Jamie was passed out cold on the bed.
Meghan jumped to her feet nervously, not realizing how far she had taken the tickling. Jamie had actually passed out from the tickling? Could it be? Meghan shook Jamie’s leg to try to wake her, but there was no immediate response. As each second passed, Meghan became more and more nervous, worrying that she had taken things too far. She ran to the bathroom and filled up a cup of water, bringing it back into the room and sprinkling it over Jamie’s head, slowly reviving her captured colleague.
“M… Meghan?” Jamie said quietly, regaining consciousness.
“You OK?” Meghan asked, concerned just as much about Jamie’s condition as she was her own culpability.
“I… think so?” Jamie said, her voice growing concerned again as she realized that it hadn’t been a dream, that she actually was restrained on Meghan’s bed.
“I’m sorry?” Meghan said the inflection in her voice not sounding as sincere as it probably should have been.
“Please let me go,” Jamie begged once again. “I promise I’ve never done any of what you’ve said!”
“And why should I believe you?” asked Meghan, defiance in her voice.
“Because I used to be a man!” screamed Jamie, breaking into sobs as soon as the words came out. Her secret was out. She hadn’t planned on ever telling anyone, but she felt like she had no other choice, like there was no other way she could make Meghan believe her. Jamie tried to hide her head in shame as she cried, but of course, there was no way for her to do so.
“You… what?” Meghan asked, taking a step back as she processed the information. There was no way she used to be a man. Was there? How could someone so… so beautiful… used to be a man?
Jamie told her tale through her sobs, sharing everything from her struggle to fit in at school to the adjustments she had to make to fit in to how she handled it today. She bared her soul detail by detail. Clearly this hadn’t been how she ever intended for it to happen, but the more she spoke, the more it was almost cathartic to finally tell someone, to break free from the shame of hiding it.
“And that’s about it,” said Jamie, finishing her story. “So if you just let me go, I’ll get out of your life,” she said.
“No,” said Meghan.
“Meghan, please, I can’t…” Jamie began, worried Meghan had more tickling in mind.
“No, I mean you don’t have to get out of my life,” Meghan corrected.
“But…” Jamie said, taken aback by Meghan’s statement.
“Don’t go,” Meghan said, as she began releasing Jamie’s wrists from their restraints. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll go,” she said, the pangs of guilt eating away at her now that she knew the truth. “I’m the jerk here. I should be the one to resign.”
“No, you don’t have to go,” Jamie said. “I didn’t really want people knowing this about me. Now that the cat is out of the bag… I’ll go,” Jamie said. “It’ll just be easier.”
“No,” Meghan repeated. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you right now,” Jamie said with an eye of suspicion.
“I deserve that,” Meghan said, helping Jamie sit up once both wrists were free of their restraints. “Just… don’t go.”
“You know the silliest part of all of this?” Jamie asked.
“What’s that?”
“If I were guilty of having a crush on anyone or trying to flirt with anyone, it was you,” Jamie admitted.
“Me?” Meghan asked, shocked.
“Yeah.” Jamie explained the mini-crush she had developed on Meghan, from the first time she had met her in the office to each time Meghan had brushed her off. What the heck, right? Meghan already knew everything else. Why hide this? Jamie mentioned how she thought it was adorable how Meghan would always blow her hair out of her face whenever she was hard at work. How she’d tap her pencil on the desk repeatedly while on the phone. How she always hoped she’d someday look over at her desk and see Meghan smile back… “So…” Jamie said, finishing her story. “That’s that.”
Meghan was touched. Butterflies had been forming in her stomach as she listened to Jamie discuss how she felt. Did Meghan feel the same way? Was all of her animosity towards Jamie the product of her own crush? There was no denying what Meghan had felt earlier, when the simple act of tickling Jamie had excited her unexpectedly. Maybe that IS what it was… There was no animosity. Just repressed feelings.
“Jamie, please don’t go,” Meghan said, holding onto Jamie’s hand. “Can we start over?”
“It’s going to be hard to forget about this,” said Jamie, motioning with her head to the shackles that still held her ankles in place.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Meghan asked. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Jamie thought for a moment, a smile slowly forming on her face.
“I don’t know,” Jamie said, unable to contain her smile and clearly no longer upset with Meghan. “Are you ticklish?”
