KITTLETOWN FOUR
by Max Speer
Introduction (continued)
Jessie Waterson pulled her Miata onto Main Street on a sunny, Florida day in May. People were hurrying to and from down the busy street of stores, fruit stands, hair and body salons, and trendy cafes. She liked it there. It gave her a good feeling, not unlike the small-town trendiness of Westwood in LA or the palm tree-lined streets of La Jolla.
She was a reporter, a good one. An Emmy sits proudly on the mantle of her southern California home. Jessie worked her way up from an intern to one of television's top news correspondents in a very short time; partly because of her gutsiness, partly because of her striking beauty.
At a towering 5 foot 10 inches (extremely tall for a newswoman), Jessie was not your ordinary California model-became-television star. Her Scandinavian blonde hair and fair skin was striking, but her thin, and curvaceous body was exceptional.
She had started out as a fashion model and was discovered by a scout at a runway show. With his encouragement, Jessie went to school, worked for free, getting coffees and lunches; and soon ran through a series of screen tests. The rest is TV history.
At the studio, a story caught her eye while reading correspondences through the World Wide Web. A pair of young, twin girls had been vacationing in Florida when they were arrested by the police and spent the night tied and tickled to the point of torture. When investigators tried extrapolating a story, the local police denied any allegations. In fact, testimonies from many neighboring communities attested for the integrity of the Kittletown police force. When asked, police simply said that it was probably the work of some disgruntled ex-boyfriends or worse, rapists who granted them a lighter sentence than a sexual assault.
The twins didn't think so and insisted that, not only was it the police, but they took great care in cutting up their clothing in order to reach all of the most ticklish spots on the girls. And as for sex, the girls has stated, it was pretty clear that the officers were very excited, sexually from the tickling.
Jessie thought the story was interesting but it didn't strike her until months later when she read a crazy story on the Net about a town obsessed with tickling led by a scientist/chemist named Dr. Gregory. This Gregory who was allegedly from Florida, had been sending out blurbs on the Internet about changing world politics, making tickling the number one priority in people's lives, and some apocalyptic view of the world within the next few years.
She would've erased the story from her head and it would probably have ended up as a "you'll never believe the wacky thing I read..." by the coffee machine, had it not been for the story about those twins. She scammed her way into the DMV database and found that this scientist resided in Kittletown, Florida, a very small town not too far from Tampa.
Then came the Academy Awards presentation and the news from Paris through UPI with a similar tale of seemingly irrational behavior, falling to the ground, hysterical laughter, and the personal reports that they felt as if they were being tickle-tortured although no one was there.
This is more than a coincidence.
When she got the 'go-ahead' from her producer, Jessie grabbed her mini-recorder, her laptop and threw a bunch of clothes into a suitcase. She figured that if she had a real story, it would be easy to call her camera crew.
This could be the story of my career.
At the airport, she realized that her luggage went north as she went south, so she rented a car and thanked Citibank silently to herself.
"I'll just buy some clothes when I get to town. After all, I have an expense account."
Jessie pulled her rented Toyota into a parking space at Morandilis & Hyde streets and got out to drop some change in the meter. People stared at her. It made her feel a little creepy.
Maybe they recognize me from TV.
But it wasn't that. It was her clothes.
What's so weird about my clothes., she thought. I'm from California. There's nothing different about what I'm wearing and what these women are wearing.
But she didn't catch on; not until she went to the dress shop down the street. Her walk to the shop was equally disquieting with stares from men and women. Jessie was getting a real dose of the creeps.
***
It's written in Kittletown law that a male has every right to tickle any female at any time, unless the female is in her home. The law doesn't allow for trespassing or violating a woman's public career.
However, should the female be a stranger, then the Kittletonian law does not apply. Obviously, this law had been stretched in the past, but Jessie's appearance was not like Lori Lansing. Jessie had a dynamic charisma and Lori was shy and demure.
Because of this, the Kittletonians didn't touch her. They knew she was a stranger because she was not up to standard dress code. Had she been a Kittletonian and violated dress code, the law would punish in the standard way. The police force spent a lot of money to cover up their behaviors of the past.
***
The clothing shop opened and the tinkling of bells could be heard. It was a charming little shop with racks of dresses and real Florida décor. Palm tree designed were spots on the wallpaper.
"Hi, "Jessie said with a smile. "I'm staying in town for a few days and I need some clothes. The airport lost my luggage."
"Oh no," the saleswoman said, a little meladramatically. "Well, we'll fix you up with something real pretty. Are you looking for a dress or a blouse and a pair of pants?"
"I think I'll just browse a little," Jessie said politely.
The tall blonde began to peruse the racks of dresses and blouses. Then it suddenly struck her.
"Miss? All of these dresses and shirts are sleeveless. Do you have anything that isn't?"
The saleswoman looked worried. In the twenty years she owned the shop, she never had to deal with a stranger before and was not very good at improvisation.
"Well, I guess it's just the fashion around here. Everybody buys sleeveless."
"I see, it's obvious," Jessie said now piecing together her first impressions of the women on the street who stared at her clothes.
"What's wrong with sleeveless?"
Jessie was embarrassed. "I don't think I have very nice arms."
"Oh no, my dear," the saleswoman said, "you have lovely arms. I can tell just by looking at you. Let me show you something that you might like."
The saleswoman pulled a dress off the rack.
"Here you go, try this on. The armholes are not too big."
The newswoman went into the dressing room, but as she was removing her clothes she heard the muffled, agitated voice of the saleswoman talking on the phone.
Jessie realized that there were no mirrors in the room and she would have to walk out into the store. Just as she found a mirror she noticed the saleswoman quickly hanging up the phone.
"Oh, you look just beautiful," she said, a little too enthusiastically as the tall blond turned and pivoted in front of the mirror. The saleswoman noticed her moves and said, "You look like a fashion model."
"Used to be one," Jessie said flatly, blowing the compliment out the window. "How much is this dress?"
The saleswoman reached for the tag that hung from a thin, plastic string attached to the armhole. Jessie lifted her right arm up for the woman to read the tag. The woman noticed Jessie's smooth, hairless armpit and a tingle swirled so quickly that it surprised her. She fumbled with the tag, inches from the newswoman's exposed underarm. The woman's fingers inched closer hoping to 'accidently' brush a fingertip across the sensitive skin and test the stranger's degree of ticklishness.
The more intently she looked at the soft skin of Jessie's underarm the more her desire to tickle the young beauty. Her heart pounded and seconds seemed like hours.
She crawled her fingers higher, about to break a law but was powerless to stop herself. She looked into the tall woman's innocent, unknowing face as her fingers inched closer and closer to the lifted, exposed underarm In a moment she would feel the skin, so soft and sensitive ; see and hear the tall, pretty stranger laugh.
"Maddie, what are you doing?" The woman's trance was broken by the sound of a friendly voice. It was officer McGulty of the Kittletown Police Department.
"Oh, uh...uh...Hi James. Just helpin' this lady with her dress."
"I know what you're doin', " the officer said smiling. Then he extended his hand to Jessie. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Waterson."
"Thank you, officer. You've seen me?"
"Seen you? Everybody's seen you, Miss Waterson."
"Please call me Jessie."
"And you can call me James." Jessie gave James a little chuckle and the officer looked down at the tall newswoman's impressive body. He looked at her smooth, bare arms revealed in her dress and felt an instant shiver of sexual excitement with the thought of tickling this TV star. "Beautiful dress. Maddie really knows how to pick'im."
"I guess she does." Then Jessie turned to Maddie and said, "I'll take it. And you know what? I'll take this top and this one too. Gosh sleeveless is really the style around here, isn't it?"
Maddie and the officer chuckled nervously as Jessie brought the clothes to the counter.
"You know," Maddie said. "That dress looks so lovely on you. Do you want to wear it now?"
"I wasn't gonna, but, okay. I will."
There was a sigh of relief from the officer and the quirky saleswoman.
"Let me just get that tag for you."
Jessie lifted her bare arm again. The salewoman looked at the officer who rolled his eyes. She looked at Jessie's smooth underarm which was displayed even bolder as Jessie held her arm up higher; more trusting. Maddie reached up for the tag. She could have easily broken the thread that held it but she fumbled. This time a little harder against Jessie's body, feeling her upper ribs.
"Hurry up," she said smiling, and a little bit embarrassed, "that tickles."
That was all she needed. Maddie smiled and said, "Oh, so you're ticklish, heh?" Then she lifted her two fingers up and stroked the soft skin of Jessie's underarm.
"Oh my God!" Jessie yelled as she threw her arm down. "Don't do that."
The model-turned newswoman was very ticklish indeed.
by Max Speer
Introduction (continued)
Jessie Waterson pulled her Miata onto Main Street on a sunny, Florida day in May. People were hurrying to and from down the busy street of stores, fruit stands, hair and body salons, and trendy cafes. She liked it there. It gave her a good feeling, not unlike the small-town trendiness of Westwood in LA or the palm tree-lined streets of La Jolla.
She was a reporter, a good one. An Emmy sits proudly on the mantle of her southern California home. Jessie worked her way up from an intern to one of television's top news correspondents in a very short time; partly because of her gutsiness, partly because of her striking beauty.
At a towering 5 foot 10 inches (extremely tall for a newswoman), Jessie was not your ordinary California model-became-television star. Her Scandinavian blonde hair and fair skin was striking, but her thin, and curvaceous body was exceptional.
She had started out as a fashion model and was discovered by a scout at a runway show. With his encouragement, Jessie went to school, worked for free, getting coffees and lunches; and soon ran through a series of screen tests. The rest is TV history.
At the studio, a story caught her eye while reading correspondences through the World Wide Web. A pair of young, twin girls had been vacationing in Florida when they were arrested by the police and spent the night tied and tickled to the point of torture. When investigators tried extrapolating a story, the local police denied any allegations. In fact, testimonies from many neighboring communities attested for the integrity of the Kittletown police force. When asked, police simply said that it was probably the work of some disgruntled ex-boyfriends or worse, rapists who granted them a lighter sentence than a sexual assault.
The twins didn't think so and insisted that, not only was it the police, but they took great care in cutting up their clothing in order to reach all of the most ticklish spots on the girls. And as for sex, the girls has stated, it was pretty clear that the officers were very excited, sexually from the tickling.
Jessie thought the story was interesting but it didn't strike her until months later when she read a crazy story on the Net about a town obsessed with tickling led by a scientist/chemist named Dr. Gregory. This Gregory who was allegedly from Florida, had been sending out blurbs on the Internet about changing world politics, making tickling the number one priority in people's lives, and some apocalyptic view of the world within the next few years.
She would've erased the story from her head and it would probably have ended up as a "you'll never believe the wacky thing I read..." by the coffee machine, had it not been for the story about those twins. She scammed her way into the DMV database and found that this scientist resided in Kittletown, Florida, a very small town not too far from Tampa.
Then came the Academy Awards presentation and the news from Paris through UPI with a similar tale of seemingly irrational behavior, falling to the ground, hysterical laughter, and the personal reports that they felt as if they were being tickle-tortured although no one was there.
This is more than a coincidence.
When she got the 'go-ahead' from her producer, Jessie grabbed her mini-recorder, her laptop and threw a bunch of clothes into a suitcase. She figured that if she had a real story, it would be easy to call her camera crew.
This could be the story of my career.
At the airport, she realized that her luggage went north as she went south, so she rented a car and thanked Citibank silently to herself.
"I'll just buy some clothes when I get to town. After all, I have an expense account."
Jessie pulled her rented Toyota into a parking space at Morandilis & Hyde streets and got out to drop some change in the meter. People stared at her. It made her feel a little creepy.
Maybe they recognize me from TV.
But it wasn't that. It was her clothes.
What's so weird about my clothes., she thought. I'm from California. There's nothing different about what I'm wearing and what these women are wearing.
But she didn't catch on; not until she went to the dress shop down the street. Her walk to the shop was equally disquieting with stares from men and women. Jessie was getting a real dose of the creeps.
***
It's written in Kittletown law that a male has every right to tickle any female at any time, unless the female is in her home. The law doesn't allow for trespassing or violating a woman's public career.
However, should the female be a stranger, then the Kittletonian law does not apply. Obviously, this law had been stretched in the past, but Jessie's appearance was not like Lori Lansing. Jessie had a dynamic charisma and Lori was shy and demure.
Because of this, the Kittletonians didn't touch her. They knew she was a stranger because she was not up to standard dress code. Had she been a Kittletonian and violated dress code, the law would punish in the standard way. The police force spent a lot of money to cover up their behaviors of the past.
***
The clothing shop opened and the tinkling of bells could be heard. It was a charming little shop with racks of dresses and real Florida décor. Palm tree designed were spots on the wallpaper.
"Hi, "Jessie said with a smile. "I'm staying in town for a few days and I need some clothes. The airport lost my luggage."
"Oh no," the saleswoman said, a little meladramatically. "Well, we'll fix you up with something real pretty. Are you looking for a dress or a blouse and a pair of pants?"
"I think I'll just browse a little," Jessie said politely.
The tall blonde began to peruse the racks of dresses and blouses. Then it suddenly struck her.
"Miss? All of these dresses and shirts are sleeveless. Do you have anything that isn't?"
The saleswoman looked worried. In the twenty years she owned the shop, she never had to deal with a stranger before and was not very good at improvisation.
"Well, I guess it's just the fashion around here. Everybody buys sleeveless."
"I see, it's obvious," Jessie said now piecing together her first impressions of the women on the street who stared at her clothes.
"What's wrong with sleeveless?"
Jessie was embarrassed. "I don't think I have very nice arms."
"Oh no, my dear," the saleswoman said, "you have lovely arms. I can tell just by looking at you. Let me show you something that you might like."
The saleswoman pulled a dress off the rack.
"Here you go, try this on. The armholes are not too big."
The newswoman went into the dressing room, but as she was removing her clothes she heard the muffled, agitated voice of the saleswoman talking on the phone.
Jessie realized that there were no mirrors in the room and she would have to walk out into the store. Just as she found a mirror she noticed the saleswoman quickly hanging up the phone.
"Oh, you look just beautiful," she said, a little too enthusiastically as the tall blond turned and pivoted in front of the mirror. The saleswoman noticed her moves and said, "You look like a fashion model."
"Used to be one," Jessie said flatly, blowing the compliment out the window. "How much is this dress?"
The saleswoman reached for the tag that hung from a thin, plastic string attached to the armhole. Jessie lifted her right arm up for the woman to read the tag. The woman noticed Jessie's smooth, hairless armpit and a tingle swirled so quickly that it surprised her. She fumbled with the tag, inches from the newswoman's exposed underarm. The woman's fingers inched closer hoping to 'accidently' brush a fingertip across the sensitive skin and test the stranger's degree of ticklishness.
The more intently she looked at the soft skin of Jessie's underarm the more her desire to tickle the young beauty. Her heart pounded and seconds seemed like hours.
She crawled her fingers higher, about to break a law but was powerless to stop herself. She looked into the tall woman's innocent, unknowing face as her fingers inched closer and closer to the lifted, exposed underarm In a moment she would feel the skin, so soft and sensitive ; see and hear the tall, pretty stranger laugh.
"Maddie, what are you doing?" The woman's trance was broken by the sound of a friendly voice. It was officer McGulty of the Kittletown Police Department.
"Oh, uh...uh...Hi James. Just helpin' this lady with her dress."
"I know what you're doin', " the officer said smiling. Then he extended his hand to Jessie. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Waterson."
"Thank you, officer. You've seen me?"
"Seen you? Everybody's seen you, Miss Waterson."
"Please call me Jessie."
"And you can call me James." Jessie gave James a little chuckle and the officer looked down at the tall newswoman's impressive body. He looked at her smooth, bare arms revealed in her dress and felt an instant shiver of sexual excitement with the thought of tickling this TV star. "Beautiful dress. Maddie really knows how to pick'im."
"I guess she does." Then Jessie turned to Maddie and said, "I'll take it. And you know what? I'll take this top and this one too. Gosh sleeveless is really the style around here, isn't it?"
Maddie and the officer chuckled nervously as Jessie brought the clothes to the counter.
"You know," Maddie said. "That dress looks so lovely on you. Do you want to wear it now?"
"I wasn't gonna, but, okay. I will."
There was a sigh of relief from the officer and the quirky saleswoman.
"Let me just get that tag for you."
Jessie lifted her bare arm again. The salewoman looked at the officer who rolled his eyes. She looked at Jessie's smooth underarm which was displayed even bolder as Jessie held her arm up higher; more trusting. Maddie reached up for the tag. She could have easily broken the thread that held it but she fumbled. This time a little harder against Jessie's body, feeling her upper ribs.
"Hurry up," she said smiling, and a little bit embarrassed, "that tickles."
That was all she needed. Maddie smiled and said, "Oh, so you're ticklish, heh?" Then she lifted her two fingers up and stroked the soft skin of Jessie's underarm.
"Oh my God!" Jessie yelled as she threw her arm down. "Don't do that."
The model-turned newswoman was very ticklish indeed.
