beerbaron2
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2013
- Messages
- 55
- Points
- 8
There's a lot of anticipation built into this one, so if you like stories that are about the journey and not just the destination, you're in the right place.
Chapter 2: Liv Turns the Tables on Toni
Liv Morgan started getting the text messages a couple of days after the incident in the locker room.
At first, the communications were basic.
A feather emoji.
A crying laughing emoji.
A short video of fingers – wriggling – held close to the camera.
That one made Liv set her phone down as her toes curled inside her socks of their own accord.
These messages did not come daily, or on any semblance of a regular schedule. Nonetheless, each was another piece of evidence proving a truth that was incontrovertible: Toni Storm was definitely relishing her ticklish victory over Liv.
Even without the messages, which Liv had not responded to but also chose not to delete, Liv found her thoughts returning to that unexpected visit from Toni in the locker room. She knew now it had been a total set up – that Toni had paid the stagehand to set up the velvet bench. And although the tickling had been rather brief, no longer than a minute or two, the memory stretched and extended in Liv’s brain like a warm piece of taffy. Also like taffy, the memory was sticky – Liv couldn’t shake it – and, surprisingly, sweet. Liv found herself replaying it in her head during idle moments: while waiting in an airport terminal for her next flight, stretching before a workout or a match, or, curiously, when she was in the process of removing or putting on her socks.
Liv had always been ticklish, a fact that relatives and friends and significant others had exploited to their delight and amusement throughout her life. But there was something different about what happened with Toni, and the way she had been tickled. “Timeless” Toni should have done her homework, though.
For one, the AEW star had no idea of knowing that, through at least her adult years, Liv gave as good as she got when a bout of tickling began.
And two, Liv already had a plan to turn the tables. And she wouldn’t need an elaborate prop like a bench covered in velvet.
The convention floor practically pulsated with noise—camera shutters snapping, fans calling out greetings, the constant hum of hundreds of conversations blending into a lively roar. Fans of all stripes had been drawn to the event: science fiction, comic books, classic sitcoms … and yes, wrestling. In fact there was a whole section of the con devoted to wrestling. Posters of legends lined the walls, and a long banner overhead announced a special signing featuring Toni Storm herself.
Liv Morgan walked the floor, unbothered. She had not been booked for the event but traveled here nonetheless. Liv had eschewed her usual wardrobe choices. Known for daring high-fashion looks on red carpets, Liv favored a sporty streetwear vibe in her day-to-day, but bypassed one of her usual looks for a plain white hooded sweatshirt and a pair of simple gray sweatpants. She had succumbed to one fashion trait; a pair of custom-made designer sneakers were on her sock feet, but the sweatpants were baggy enough to cover them. To complete the disguise, Liv had tied her wild blond mane into a tight bun, did not apply any eye makeup, and donned a colorful lucha libre mask.
The anonymity this provided was exhilarating.
In her preparation and research for this opportunity, Liv had not spent much time worrying about the convention schedule of events. She did know, however, that Toni had a special private signing scheduled in a ballroom that afternoon. Pre-registration only, and the event was already sold out. As she approached that end of the convention floor, she could see the line already had formed.
“Look, dad!” a young boy of about 12 called out, pointing at Liv. “That kid has a mask just like mine!”
Liv was glad at that moment her face was covered and no one could see the blush of embarrassment. She was far from a towering physical presence at 5’3” and the oversized plain hoody and sweatpants made her look even smaller.
Liv’s phone buzzed twice in the kangaroo pouch of her hoodie.
“U coming?” the message read.
Liv replied with a simple thumbs up. One of the volunteers at the con was a trainee at a nearby wrestling school where Liv went to get reps from time to time – a prime reason why Liv chose this as the moment for her retaliation. She had explained what she wanted to do and the volunteer eagerly agreed, with a couple of conditions.
Liv bypassed the line to the ballroom where Toni was having her signing and instead, made a beeline for a side door, breezing right past a sign that read “Convention Talent & Staff Only” in bright red block letters.
As she approached, Tom, the trainee, pushed the door open. Liv went through without breaking stride. Tom led Liv down a hallway and then through another door that required the swipe of a keycard to access.
Toni had turned her autograph table into a stage.
LED lights that had been designed to look like the spotlights used in old movies illuminated the entire tableau. A velvet scarf draped across her comfortable padded wingbacked chair. Glossy black-and-white headshots were stacked perfectly on a table that was covered in a thick black tablecloth that descended all the way to the floor on all four sides of the table.
Liv removed her mask and stuffed it into her purse. “It’s perfect,” she said in a very low tone of voice.
“What was that?”
“Oh, er, nothing, Tom. Thanks again.”
“Just remember to hold up your end.”
“I’ve got you,” Liv said. “Next time Finn is in town, I’ll make sure you get a one-on-one training session.”
Tom left the room the way he came in, beaming.
Liv went towards the table, taking her bag off her shoulder and shedding her hoodie to reveal a graphic tee. She removed a bottle of water and a protein bar from her bag, then stowed the bag and sweatshirt under the table before crawling under herself. The tablecloth blocked out nearly all of the light from the brightly illuminated room.
Slipping her sneakers off of her feet, Liv sat criss cross applesauce. She munched her protein bar, sipped her water, and waited.
.
Time ran slowly for Liv as she lay -- or, er, sat -- in wait. The only soundtrack she had was the hum of the air conditioner, which cycled on and off every so often. Her protein bar had been long devoured when she heard footsteps pass by coming from two different directions. No longer needing the mask, Liv had put her glasses on, but it was too dark to read and she dared not risk the light of her phone, even under the thick tablecloth. Liv had been concerned the tablecloth would be of a gauzy material that concealed next to nothing. No worries there; the chosen fabric seemed nearly as impenetrable as a blackout curtain.
“OK, everything looks good here,” a male voice said.
“Got it,” a second, deeper voice replied. “Let me just…”
Footsteps now, heavier, coming closer to the table. A rustling sound and the entire tablecloth began to shift. Liv held her breath and clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling the onset of a rush of nervous giggles.
However, the movement of the tablecloth ended as quickly as it began.
Next, a soft scraping noise, and, just under the edge of the tablecloth, the legs of the wingbacked chair were now closer to the table.
A satisfied grunt followed, and the footsteps retreated.
What light there was to be seen from Liv’s position changed. Presumably, someone had adjusted the lighting in the room. Only a couple of minutes passed before Liv heard the unmistakable buzz that came from the cross-talk of many voices, all having different conversations, all at once, in a relatively confined space. No doubt the doors had been opened to allow session attendees to file into the room. The noise grew in volume. Liv dared a peek through the other side of the tablecloth to see the feet and lower legs of dozens of people, stretching back well beyond her greatly limited field of vision.
Almost showtime, she thought to herself, flexing her fingers as well as her toes. She’d been shifting positions several times under the table to remain as comfortable as possible, but she’d have to remain as still now with so many other people in the room.
A high-pitched whine of feedback uncomfortably close to Liv’s position made her clamp her fingers over her ears. Groans of complaint rose up from the assembled fans.
“Sorry about that folks,” a man’s voice said, deepened through amplification and going into what Liv quickly recognized as the tone of a seasoned emcee or PA announcer. “Hope everyone’s been having a good time today. And with that aid, are you guys ready to meet Toni Storm?”
The assembled fans erupted in cheers.
Toni’s AEW theme music started to play, provoking a fresh round of cheers. A chant quickly broke out.
“To-Ni! To-Ni! To-Ni! To-Ni!”
The music continued to play for a couple more minutes.
Smart, Liv thought. Build the anticipation …
Finally, the loudest roar yet, so much so that Liv briefly covered her ears again. A shadow passed near the table and Liv saw a pair of feet in red high heels now standing at the table, next to the chair.
The amplified voice of Toni Storm echoed through the room:
“Hello, darlings!” Toni said. “Mwah! Mwah!”
As Toni blew kisses to the crowd, her feet turned left, then right. Liv saw the joint of her ankle – her bare ankle – flex upon making one of the half turns. With that, the lower legs of Toni drew within reach as Toni sat at the table. A scent of her perfume drifted down to Liv. Toni sat with one leg crossed in classic ladylike manner and Liv could see the bottom hem of a black skirt that ended on her thigh, but near her knees.
“So wonderful to see you, darling. Oh, and first in line! I do appreciate punctuality.”
“I’ve been waiting in line five hours so I could be first!” a breathless male voice said.
A loud scratching directly above her head. Liv jumped, startled until she quickly placed it: the sound of a pen scritching across, she presumed, one of those glossy 8x10s.
“Oh well then my dear I commend your dedication as well as your stamina, that seems quite the endurance test for one’s bladder… Here we are now…”
The click of a camera shutter.
“There we are, lovely. Have a Timeless and tremendous day!”
It continued like that, for quite some time.
Liv remained in her position, sitting still. Observing with all five senses.
The feeling of the plush ballroom carpet as it touched her butt, legs, and hands.
The taste of chocolate, lingering on her tongue from the protein bar.
The smell of Toni’s perfume, which she now identified had a definite hint of roses to it.
The sounds: Toni’s banter, which typically stemmed from the same script, but also had an element of improv to it tailored to each individual or group that came to the table. The scritching of the pen. The rustling sound as one glossy photo was replaced with another waiting to be signed. And, hanging above it all, the continued din of the crowd.
And the sights: Toni, fidgeting quite a bit under the table. Hands nervously smoothing the skirt between each autograph. And, as Liv expected, it didn’t take but a few autographs before the heel on Toni’s right, crossed leg began dangling from her foot.
Under Liv's watchful eye, a pattern emerged.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Dangle.
Each time the dangle deepened.
Liv had never considered herself a "foot person" ... although one boy in high school who she dated briefly definitely had been. It wasn’t that she was anti-foot or had a phobia or found them disgusting, although she had her own rooted misgivings about baring her own feet only when necessary. And, like any other prominent women’s wrestler, she was besieged by messages from creeps asking about her feet: to see them, to ask if they were ticklish, to have them exposed, to buy her worn shoes and socks (ick! As if!). Feet were, to her, just another part of the body. A vehicle. Yet with no other real visual stimuli, Liv found herself studying Toni's foot in the dangling shoe in earnest.
Smooth heels – evidence of regular trips to a pedicure chair – and yet the foot of an athlete, not the pampered yet unhinged starlet she portrayed in AEW.
Of course, Toni was no stranger to showing her feet in public. She was, in that way, perhaps the polar opposite of Liv. She wrestled her matches in traditional boots, but any interview or other appearance that did not entail a bell-to-bell match usually found her shoeless in tights, nylons, or simply barefoot. Many a physical skirmish after or before a match ended with a barefoot Toni either standing tall over her foe or laid out under the arena lights.
Liv knew better. She knew going barefoot in public was a mistake. That’s a lesson Toni taught her firsthand – pun intended.
And now it was time for Liv to be the instructor.
Meanwhile, the pattern repeated.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the dangle became even more pronounced, to the point the shoe teetered precariously on Toni’s toes. She flexed her foot deeply to ensnare the high heel, then smoothed her skirt briefly with both hands and began the cycle all over again.
Banter: “Oh my darlings, how lovely to see you! I do so enjoy a group scene!”
Scratch of the pen.
Picture: “Now let’s make this moment timeless, shall we?” A beep.
And the dangle — her crossed foot swaying as it slipped free of the shoe’s back, heel and arch exposed.
Liv reached out, not realizing she had a huge grin on her face.
The shoe began to dangle off of her toes.
Liv lifted her hand.
The heel teetered to and fro, Toni’s toes flexing in an internal game to maintain the grip.
Slowly, deliberately, Liv took her index finger and traced up the side of Toni’s foot.
The foot withdrew instantaneously.
A sudden gasp from the other side of the table.
Liv’s eyes lit up.
“Ahem… excuse me, darlings. Bit of a furball there. No doubt a souvenir from my evening in with Mira Shirakawa last night…”
Laughter from all around the table. Underneath it, Liv had to resist slapping her hands against her thighs in delight.
Her greatest hopes had been confirmed.
Toni was ticklish, too.
Liv watched, poised, to see how Toni would respond.
Hands smoothed the skirt and she shifted in her seat, now with feet flat against the floor.
But only for a few seconds. Toni returned to her usual position with one leg crossed.
Except now she had taken her right foot completely out of her shoe.
Unprompted, Liv mentally replayed Toni’s words during her locker-room tickling onslaught.
Behold! The fearless warrior undone by the softest touch!
Liv let the moment breathe and the ritual resumed itself.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Except now, with no shoe to dangle, Toni flexed her freshly bared foot back and forth or let it rotate at the ankle.
Liv glanced briefly at her hand. As a wrestler, she only could keep her nails at a certain short length for safety reasons. And nail art such as acrylics certainly was not an option for her. Still, there was enough of a nail extending past the tip of her finger that she could feel it tangibly as she scraped her nails lightly against the palm of her other hand.
With that, Liv took her index finger and, starting from the heel, lightly ran the nail up the direct center of Toni’s foot.
Another immediate retraction, followed by a bang as Toni’s knee reflexively hit the underside of the table. The foot withdrew quickly.
“Oh! Pardon me, darlings… I’m going to stand for this one if you don’t mind. Mr. Director? Ready for my take!”
Toni quickly stood up from the table, slipping off her left shoe in the process. Bare feet planted firmly on the floor, she leaned forward a bit, followed by a click.
“Fabulous! Have a timeless day! Now if you’ll excuse me, I appear to have lost a shoe under the table…”
A ripple of laughter from the assembled crowd as Toni ducked her head under the tablecloth. There, she saw Liv, sitting cross-legged. Liv gave Toni a predatory smile and a quick wave, wriggling her fingers at the AEW star.
Toni’s eyes widened in recognition and surprise. Then a quick smirk as she promptly replaced the tablecloth, shoes in hand.
“Shoes recovered, darlings! Crisis averted! HOWEVER… I think we need full tootsie mobility for the remainder of this event, don’t you?!”
Two clomping noises followed and Liv saw one of the high heeled shoes land on the floor behind the chair.
“Might as well take those to the green room, young man… I won’t be needing them. Excuse me for just a moment, my recollections of Mina sparked something I had forgotten.”
The screen on Liv’s phone, set on silent and resting beside her, illuminated.
A text from Toni:
“I had been wondering when our paths would cross once more.”
Liv tapped out a quick response:
“Surprised?”
Three dots in the corner of Liv’s screen.
Toni: “Impressed. I commend your preparation and approach, even though I required no such ambush to thwart you.”
Liv: “Noticed you ditched your shoes. Is that a challenge?”
Three dots again.
A foot emoji.
Liv: “I’m going to make you break character, in front of everyone.”
Three dots again.
Another cry-laughing emoji appeared, the same Toni had used to taunt after the fact.
Toni: “Darling, you lack the proper commitment for such a demanding role.”
Liv: “A convincing speech … But not quite award-winning.”
On the other side of the table, Toni shifted in her seat, bringing the chair just a bit closer.
“My goodness, I need a stretch!” Toni proclaimed.
Toni extended both legs out under the chair, feet flexing forward.
And, with her left big toe, grazed Liv on the nose with the slightest of touches.
Liv’s phone screen illuminated once more.
Toni: “Give it your best. Hope you enjoyed the boop, darling.”
She resumed her usual seating position, her leg crossed, and her right foot now dangling nearly on top of Liv.
Oh, you are bold, Liv thought.
While Liv pondered her next move under the table, a seemingly nonplussed Toni resumed the signing.
Inside her head, the thoughts were far less confident.
Why here? Why now?
Toni was no stranger to tickling, either giving or receiving. In another place, in a more private setting, she would have surrendered gladly to such ministrations, enjoying the swell of laughter and subsequent rush of endorphins. But here, in public, in front of her fans, she must endure.
Stay Timeless.
Meanwhile, underneath the table, Liv watched the routine resume, with one change.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Now a flexing of the foot, not to rotate the joint but probing. Searching. Trying to make physical contact with its antagonist.
Liv let the cycle repeat several times. Let Toni wonder. Let the anticipation build. Let her stew in her thoughts. She remembered sitting helplessly while Toni unlaced her boots. Even when Liv still had her shoes on, looking back, in her heart, she knew what Toni was planning to do. The anticipation that made seconds feel like hours as Toni peeled off Liv’s socks. The way Liv’s own toes had curled instinctively, and then how she’d tried to keep composure and failed spectacularly.
Liv always hated being barefoot because it meant vulnerability. Even at the beach she stayed in sandals — protection from hot sand or a jagged shell. On the ranch, it was rocks, sticks, or stepping in something best left unspecified. In the realm of tickling, where Liv was no total novice, being barefoot heightened vulnerability. It meant no armor. No escape.
Toni had made a show of that vulnerability.
She had earned this. And so had Liv.
Smirking, Liv lifted her hand again.
Toni felt another single finger now, brushing up and down the length of her foot in one smooth, methodical motion.
It started at the heel.
Explored the arch.
Lingered in the very center.
Paused just beneath the toes.
Toni inhaled sharply through her nose.
Then an exhale of relief, as the finger descended along the same path.
It began again, immediately. But slower this time.
Probing.
“Hnngh,” Toni uttered through clenched teeth.
A brief pause. Then the same path, again, except near the end, a quick teasing flutter of multiple fingers before a withdrawal.
Toni jolted.
The movement was subtle but visible. Her sunglasses slipped slightly down her nose.
“A shocking draft from beneath the stage,” she announced, her hand tightening around the pen.
Toni resumed signing for the next person, but the exploration of her swaying foot under the table had now ceased.
You can do this, Toni thought. Mind over matter. You. Are. Timeless.
Internally, Toni’s senses remained on high alert, straining for the slightest unfamiliar touch or the briefest indication of what was happening beneath the table. Meanwhile, the signing continued. The faces in front of her blurred together. Compliments recycled. Toni’s banter began to loop back in on itself. She began standing for photos more often now. Each time, when she returned to her seat, she lowered carefully, angling for the smallest glimpse of Liv past the tablecloth
Nothing.
Liv had positioned herself with a strategic, infuriating precision – able to watch, to act, to touch, but all without being seen.
More faces. More banter. More autographs. More pictures. The stack of pre-ordered glossy black and white photos had grown rather short. A flicker of doubt began to creep in Toni’s mind. Perhaps Liv had, somehow, escaped from under the table without anyone realizing.
The thought almost made her relax.
Just as her reprieve ended.
Liv had enjoyed sitting back for several moments: letting her advantage breathe, making Toni anticipate.
And, quite literally, watching her squirm. While she continued to project a (mostly) unbothered confidence to the room, beneath the table, Toni’s foot, which had started to squirm under Liv’s single-finger ministrations, it now turned and twisted in a frantic yet blind search for its unseen tormentor. Liv watched, amused. She even chanced a few glimpses at her phone.
Liv scooted forward, her face mere inches from Toni’s sole. Then she continued.
She sent two fingers together on the same north-south path: slow and deliberate.
Now, with a single nail, she traced shapes. First a circle. Then a square. Now a question mark. That one had Toni’s foot flailing frantically, trying to evade Liv’s curious yet devastating digit.
You’ve faced opponents of all types, Toni, Liv thought. But can you handle … the toes?
“Only 10 minutes left, folks!” a male voice called out.
“I must say this has been such a wonderful event…” Toni began.
Now, using that same finger, a swipe across the underside of her toes.
The reaction was instant, significant, and, like Toni, dramatic.
Toes clenched into a tight curl, right before the foot snapped back.
Meanwhile: “I do so adore being in control of a roo.. hoom!”
Liv restrained herself from gasping in delight.
A chink in the armor had been found, and an answer to her internal question.
No … she could not handle the toes.
The alarm bells in Toni’s head rang without cease from the second she first felt something touch her toes.
The thought was immediate and terrifying in its clarity:
Not here! Not now!
“Hi, Toni,” the next fan said. “I drove eight hours just to be here.”
Another swipe across the underside of the toes.
A genuine laugh escaped — bright, unguarded — before she forcibly reshaped it into something resembling a more theatrical reaction.
“Eight hours! My, that is quite the journeeee…”
A single fingernail, scratching and testing the soft skin at the base of the toes.
Toni sprang to her feet. “Here now, this calls for a special occasion! Here, stand with me for the picture. Mr. Director! Ready for my close-up…”
Toni struck a pose.
You are radiant, she told herself. You are untouchable!
The flash went off. Farewells were exchanged. One deep breath, and she returned to her chair. By this point, Toni was so flustered she did not even consider attempting another glimpse beneath the table.
Had she done so, she would have seen Liv positioned much closer to the table edge.
Waiting.
Toni sat, smoothed her skirt with both hands. She took a beat to steady her breathing.
Just as something closed gently around her ankle.
Liv’s grip was textbook – muscle memory drilled into her through those first weeks of wrestling training.
Beneath the table, Toni’s left leg thrashed but Liv’s hold was secure around the ankle. Her toes curled instinctively, seeking protection.
Liv wiggled her fingers faster, sketching quick, playful patterns across the arch.
Toni’s foot betrayed itself. It splayed under the sensation, exposing the toes she was trying so valiantly to protect.
Toni bit down lightly on her cheek to prevent bursting out with laughter as Liv’s fingers skittered in the center of her sole.
“Hi, Toni,” the next fan said.
As if on cue, fingers scampered across the underside of her toes.
Toni covered her mouth and the ensuing laugh came out as strangled, disguised as a cough.
That is absolutely unfair, she thought.
“Can you stand for the picture, please?”
“Um, no darling, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay seated. These events do tax the body as well as the soul ohhohoho!”
Her shoulders shook as another precise flurry found its mark.
“Hey there, Toni!” a couple approached, holding hands.
Toni greeted them with a friendly exaggerated wave as her thoughts spiraled.
Do not kick the table. Do not scream. Maintain the image. Maintain—
It began again.
The routine had changed since the beginning of the signing. Now it went like this:
Banter.
Pen scratching across glossy paper.
Fingers tracing across the arch.
The click of a camera app.
Renewed attention paid to the toes.
Farewell.
A belly laugh concealed in another cough: “Would you like a lozenge, Miss Storm?”
A signature written too large or off center.
Picture time: A practiced smile, forced through clenched teeth.
Liv lost count of how many rounds of this occurred: more than three, fewer than ten. Then, from the other side of the table, in a low voice: “will you stop?”
The right leg – unbothered and unspoiled – kicked out in desperate defense.
Liv caught it.
And in one fluid motion, Liv reapplied the headlock, now with both soles secured.
Toni’s mind raced.
This is humiliating. In front of everyone. How dare she. Why is this so unbearable?
Light scratches across the heel. Teasing circles in the center of the arch. That one finger, that one DAMNABLE finger, prospecting the unwelcome territory of her toes.
Below the table, as Liv’s hand stayed in near constant motion, she slowly savored the symmetry of it. She remembered trying to twist away from Toni–the helplessness of having both feet tickled at once.
Above the table: “Thanks for doing this, Toni,” a deep male voice said. “Hope I don’t do anything to make you give me the Storm Zero.”
Liv scribbled rapidly beneath both sets of toes.
“Weeeehehehe, oh – oh my that was hilarious!” Toni said, “Sohoho good!”
A full, bright burst of laughter rang out across the signing area. Her shoulders shook with laughter.
Liv looked up at Toni while her fingers continued their playful assault.
I could get used to this, she thought.
Toni’s internal monologue was far less composed.
Thank GOD for that man’s terrible joke giving me an excuse! She is enjoying this. This is her revenge. I underestimated her. I absolutely underestimated her.
The toe work subsided, allowing Toni to sign, take the picture, and bid the fan goodbye.
Behind him, a mostly empty ballroom.
“Thanks, everyone, that will do it!’ an amplified voice called out.
“Saved by the bell!” Toni said, striking a dramatic pose.
Beneath the table, the light pressure confining her ankles released.
“And still radiant. Um, excuse me, Mr. Convention Manager, sir. Might I have the room to myself for the moment? The performer needs the opportunity to reset, after all…”
Hearing the event come to a close, Liv released Toni’s ankles. Her mission was accomplished. She slipped her shoes back on, taking her time to re-tie them and listening as the noise slowly subsided.
Finally, a silence, but broken quickly.
“You can come out now.”
Liv crawled out from under the table. Toni was sprawled in her wingback chair. She finished typing something on her phone, which was accompanied by the whoosh of a sent message.
“That performance,” Toni said, lifting her chin regally, her voice more steady. “I found it… incredibly immersive.”
Liv leaned back against the table, smirking. “You’re welcome.”
“I underestimated you, my dear.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Toni sighed and sat up, rolling to her feet. “As a famous fictional Englishman once said, the game is afoot. I do hope you are prepared for the next chapter.”
Toni continued, gathering her effects with a flourish as she picked up each item.
“You see, I’d been invited to participate in a special event tonight. For charity, you know. And not only have I chosen to accept, I decided it would be rude if I did not share the experience.”
Toni’s phone dinged.
“You’ll want to check yours as well, darling.”
Liv unlocked her screen to see an Instagram post tagging both herself and Toni Storm:
“BREAKING NEWS! Tonight at NERD CON, don’t miss a special charity event with special guests, Toni Storm and Liv Morgan! Raffle tickets are still available to interact “directly” with these two wrestling stars! You’ve seen them in the ring and on TV, but never like this!”
“I took the liberty of electronically signing your waiver, dear. We’ll see who has the ability to truly endure…”
The attached picture made Liv’s eyes widen as her stomach dropped.
Wooden.
Polished.
Imposing.
A set of stocks.
With room for two.
Toni clapped her hands.
“Won’t this be spectacular? Our vulnerability on glorious display!” Toni cocked an eyebrow and smirked at Liv. “Ready to see who cracks first?”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Liv replied, meeting her gaze.
To Be Continued
Chapter 2: Liv Turns the Tables on Toni
Liv Morgan started getting the text messages a couple of days after the incident in the locker room.
At first, the communications were basic.
A feather emoji.
A crying laughing emoji.
A short video of fingers – wriggling – held close to the camera.
That one made Liv set her phone down as her toes curled inside her socks of their own accord.
These messages did not come daily, or on any semblance of a regular schedule. Nonetheless, each was another piece of evidence proving a truth that was incontrovertible: Toni Storm was definitely relishing her ticklish victory over Liv.
Even without the messages, which Liv had not responded to but also chose not to delete, Liv found her thoughts returning to that unexpected visit from Toni in the locker room. She knew now it had been a total set up – that Toni had paid the stagehand to set up the velvet bench. And although the tickling had been rather brief, no longer than a minute or two, the memory stretched and extended in Liv’s brain like a warm piece of taffy. Also like taffy, the memory was sticky – Liv couldn’t shake it – and, surprisingly, sweet. Liv found herself replaying it in her head during idle moments: while waiting in an airport terminal for her next flight, stretching before a workout or a match, or, curiously, when she was in the process of removing or putting on her socks.
Liv had always been ticklish, a fact that relatives and friends and significant others had exploited to their delight and amusement throughout her life. But there was something different about what happened with Toni, and the way she had been tickled. “Timeless” Toni should have done her homework, though.
For one, the AEW star had no idea of knowing that, through at least her adult years, Liv gave as good as she got when a bout of tickling began.
And two, Liv already had a plan to turn the tables. And she wouldn’t need an elaborate prop like a bench covered in velvet.
The convention floor practically pulsated with noise—camera shutters snapping, fans calling out greetings, the constant hum of hundreds of conversations blending into a lively roar. Fans of all stripes had been drawn to the event: science fiction, comic books, classic sitcoms … and yes, wrestling. In fact there was a whole section of the con devoted to wrestling. Posters of legends lined the walls, and a long banner overhead announced a special signing featuring Toni Storm herself.
Liv Morgan walked the floor, unbothered. She had not been booked for the event but traveled here nonetheless. Liv had eschewed her usual wardrobe choices. Known for daring high-fashion looks on red carpets, Liv favored a sporty streetwear vibe in her day-to-day, but bypassed one of her usual looks for a plain white hooded sweatshirt and a pair of simple gray sweatpants. She had succumbed to one fashion trait; a pair of custom-made designer sneakers were on her sock feet, but the sweatpants were baggy enough to cover them. To complete the disguise, Liv had tied her wild blond mane into a tight bun, did not apply any eye makeup, and donned a colorful lucha libre mask.
The anonymity this provided was exhilarating.
In her preparation and research for this opportunity, Liv had not spent much time worrying about the convention schedule of events. She did know, however, that Toni had a special private signing scheduled in a ballroom that afternoon. Pre-registration only, and the event was already sold out. As she approached that end of the convention floor, she could see the line already had formed.
“Look, dad!” a young boy of about 12 called out, pointing at Liv. “That kid has a mask just like mine!”
Liv was glad at that moment her face was covered and no one could see the blush of embarrassment. She was far from a towering physical presence at 5’3” and the oversized plain hoody and sweatpants made her look even smaller.
Liv’s phone buzzed twice in the kangaroo pouch of her hoodie.
“U coming?” the message read.
Liv replied with a simple thumbs up. One of the volunteers at the con was a trainee at a nearby wrestling school where Liv went to get reps from time to time – a prime reason why Liv chose this as the moment for her retaliation. She had explained what she wanted to do and the volunteer eagerly agreed, with a couple of conditions.
Liv bypassed the line to the ballroom where Toni was having her signing and instead, made a beeline for a side door, breezing right past a sign that read “Convention Talent & Staff Only” in bright red block letters.
As she approached, Tom, the trainee, pushed the door open. Liv went through without breaking stride. Tom led Liv down a hallway and then through another door that required the swipe of a keycard to access.
Toni had turned her autograph table into a stage.
LED lights that had been designed to look like the spotlights used in old movies illuminated the entire tableau. A velvet scarf draped across her comfortable padded wingbacked chair. Glossy black-and-white headshots were stacked perfectly on a table that was covered in a thick black tablecloth that descended all the way to the floor on all four sides of the table.
Liv removed her mask and stuffed it into her purse. “It’s perfect,” she said in a very low tone of voice.
“What was that?”
“Oh, er, nothing, Tom. Thanks again.”
“Just remember to hold up your end.”
“I’ve got you,” Liv said. “Next time Finn is in town, I’ll make sure you get a one-on-one training session.”
Tom left the room the way he came in, beaming.
Liv went towards the table, taking her bag off her shoulder and shedding her hoodie to reveal a graphic tee. She removed a bottle of water and a protein bar from her bag, then stowed the bag and sweatshirt under the table before crawling under herself. The tablecloth blocked out nearly all of the light from the brightly illuminated room.
Slipping her sneakers off of her feet, Liv sat criss cross applesauce. She munched her protein bar, sipped her water, and waited.
.
Time ran slowly for Liv as she lay -- or, er, sat -- in wait. The only soundtrack she had was the hum of the air conditioner, which cycled on and off every so often. Her protein bar had been long devoured when she heard footsteps pass by coming from two different directions. No longer needing the mask, Liv had put her glasses on, but it was too dark to read and she dared not risk the light of her phone, even under the thick tablecloth. Liv had been concerned the tablecloth would be of a gauzy material that concealed next to nothing. No worries there; the chosen fabric seemed nearly as impenetrable as a blackout curtain.
“OK, everything looks good here,” a male voice said.
“Got it,” a second, deeper voice replied. “Let me just…”
Footsteps now, heavier, coming closer to the table. A rustling sound and the entire tablecloth began to shift. Liv held her breath and clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling the onset of a rush of nervous giggles.
However, the movement of the tablecloth ended as quickly as it began.
Next, a soft scraping noise, and, just under the edge of the tablecloth, the legs of the wingbacked chair were now closer to the table.
A satisfied grunt followed, and the footsteps retreated.
What light there was to be seen from Liv’s position changed. Presumably, someone had adjusted the lighting in the room. Only a couple of minutes passed before Liv heard the unmistakable buzz that came from the cross-talk of many voices, all having different conversations, all at once, in a relatively confined space. No doubt the doors had been opened to allow session attendees to file into the room. The noise grew in volume. Liv dared a peek through the other side of the tablecloth to see the feet and lower legs of dozens of people, stretching back well beyond her greatly limited field of vision.
Almost showtime, she thought to herself, flexing her fingers as well as her toes. She’d been shifting positions several times under the table to remain as comfortable as possible, but she’d have to remain as still now with so many other people in the room.
A high-pitched whine of feedback uncomfortably close to Liv’s position made her clamp her fingers over her ears. Groans of complaint rose up from the assembled fans.
“Sorry about that folks,” a man’s voice said, deepened through amplification and going into what Liv quickly recognized as the tone of a seasoned emcee or PA announcer. “Hope everyone’s been having a good time today. And with that aid, are you guys ready to meet Toni Storm?”
The assembled fans erupted in cheers.
Toni’s AEW theme music started to play, provoking a fresh round of cheers. A chant quickly broke out.
“To-Ni! To-Ni! To-Ni! To-Ni!”
The music continued to play for a couple more minutes.
Smart, Liv thought. Build the anticipation …
Finally, the loudest roar yet, so much so that Liv briefly covered her ears again. A shadow passed near the table and Liv saw a pair of feet in red high heels now standing at the table, next to the chair.
The amplified voice of Toni Storm echoed through the room:
“Hello, darlings!” Toni said. “Mwah! Mwah!”
As Toni blew kisses to the crowd, her feet turned left, then right. Liv saw the joint of her ankle – her bare ankle – flex upon making one of the half turns. With that, the lower legs of Toni drew within reach as Toni sat at the table. A scent of her perfume drifted down to Liv. Toni sat with one leg crossed in classic ladylike manner and Liv could see the bottom hem of a black skirt that ended on her thigh, but near her knees.
“So wonderful to see you, darling. Oh, and first in line! I do appreciate punctuality.”
“I’ve been waiting in line five hours so I could be first!” a breathless male voice said.
A loud scratching directly above her head. Liv jumped, startled until she quickly placed it: the sound of a pen scritching across, she presumed, one of those glossy 8x10s.
“Oh well then my dear I commend your dedication as well as your stamina, that seems quite the endurance test for one’s bladder… Here we are now…”
The click of a camera shutter.
“There we are, lovely. Have a Timeless and tremendous day!”
It continued like that, for quite some time.
Liv remained in her position, sitting still. Observing with all five senses.
The feeling of the plush ballroom carpet as it touched her butt, legs, and hands.
The taste of chocolate, lingering on her tongue from the protein bar.
The smell of Toni’s perfume, which she now identified had a definite hint of roses to it.
The sounds: Toni’s banter, which typically stemmed from the same script, but also had an element of improv to it tailored to each individual or group that came to the table. The scritching of the pen. The rustling sound as one glossy photo was replaced with another waiting to be signed. And, hanging above it all, the continued din of the crowd.
And the sights: Toni, fidgeting quite a bit under the table. Hands nervously smoothing the skirt between each autograph. And, as Liv expected, it didn’t take but a few autographs before the heel on Toni’s right, crossed leg began dangling from her foot.
Under Liv's watchful eye, a pattern emerged.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Dangle.
Each time the dangle deepened.
Liv had never considered herself a "foot person" ... although one boy in high school who she dated briefly definitely had been. It wasn’t that she was anti-foot or had a phobia or found them disgusting, although she had her own rooted misgivings about baring her own feet only when necessary. And, like any other prominent women’s wrestler, she was besieged by messages from creeps asking about her feet: to see them, to ask if they were ticklish, to have them exposed, to buy her worn shoes and socks (ick! As if!). Feet were, to her, just another part of the body. A vehicle. Yet with no other real visual stimuli, Liv found herself studying Toni's foot in the dangling shoe in earnest.
Smooth heels – evidence of regular trips to a pedicure chair – and yet the foot of an athlete, not the pampered yet unhinged starlet she portrayed in AEW.
Of course, Toni was no stranger to showing her feet in public. She was, in that way, perhaps the polar opposite of Liv. She wrestled her matches in traditional boots, but any interview or other appearance that did not entail a bell-to-bell match usually found her shoeless in tights, nylons, or simply barefoot. Many a physical skirmish after or before a match ended with a barefoot Toni either standing tall over her foe or laid out under the arena lights.
Liv knew better. She knew going barefoot in public was a mistake. That’s a lesson Toni taught her firsthand – pun intended.
And now it was time for Liv to be the instructor.
Meanwhile, the pattern repeated.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the dangle became even more pronounced, to the point the shoe teetered precariously on Toni’s toes. She flexed her foot deeply to ensnare the high heel, then smoothed her skirt briefly with both hands and began the cycle all over again.
Banter: “Oh my darlings, how lovely to see you! I do so enjoy a group scene!”
Scratch of the pen.
Picture: “Now let’s make this moment timeless, shall we?” A beep.
And the dangle — her crossed foot swaying as it slipped free of the shoe’s back, heel and arch exposed.
Liv reached out, not realizing she had a huge grin on her face.
The shoe began to dangle off of her toes.
Liv lifted her hand.
The heel teetered to and fro, Toni’s toes flexing in an internal game to maintain the grip.
Slowly, deliberately, Liv took her index finger and traced up the side of Toni’s foot.
The foot withdrew instantaneously.
A sudden gasp from the other side of the table.
Liv’s eyes lit up.
“Ahem… excuse me, darlings. Bit of a furball there. No doubt a souvenir from my evening in with Mira Shirakawa last night…”
Laughter from all around the table. Underneath it, Liv had to resist slapping her hands against her thighs in delight.
Her greatest hopes had been confirmed.
Toni was ticklish, too.
Liv watched, poised, to see how Toni would respond.
Hands smoothed the skirt and she shifted in her seat, now with feet flat against the floor.
But only for a few seconds. Toni returned to her usual position with one leg crossed.
Except now she had taken her right foot completely out of her shoe.
Unprompted, Liv mentally replayed Toni’s words during her locker-room tickling onslaught.
Behold! The fearless warrior undone by the softest touch!
Liv let the moment breathe and the ritual resumed itself.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Except now, with no shoe to dangle, Toni flexed her freshly bared foot back and forth or let it rotate at the ankle.
Liv glanced briefly at her hand. As a wrestler, she only could keep her nails at a certain short length for safety reasons. And nail art such as acrylics certainly was not an option for her. Still, there was enough of a nail extending past the tip of her finger that she could feel it tangibly as she scraped her nails lightly against the palm of her other hand.
With that, Liv took her index finger and, starting from the heel, lightly ran the nail up the direct center of Toni’s foot.
Another immediate retraction, followed by a bang as Toni’s knee reflexively hit the underside of the table. The foot withdrew quickly.
“Oh! Pardon me, darlings… I’m going to stand for this one if you don’t mind. Mr. Director? Ready for my take!”
Toni quickly stood up from the table, slipping off her left shoe in the process. Bare feet planted firmly on the floor, she leaned forward a bit, followed by a click.
“Fabulous! Have a timeless day! Now if you’ll excuse me, I appear to have lost a shoe under the table…”
A ripple of laughter from the assembled crowd as Toni ducked her head under the tablecloth. There, she saw Liv, sitting cross-legged. Liv gave Toni a predatory smile and a quick wave, wriggling her fingers at the AEW star.
Toni’s eyes widened in recognition and surprise. Then a quick smirk as she promptly replaced the tablecloth, shoes in hand.
“Shoes recovered, darlings! Crisis averted! HOWEVER… I think we need full tootsie mobility for the remainder of this event, don’t you?!”
Two clomping noises followed and Liv saw one of the high heeled shoes land on the floor behind the chair.
“Might as well take those to the green room, young man… I won’t be needing them. Excuse me for just a moment, my recollections of Mina sparked something I had forgotten.”
The screen on Liv’s phone, set on silent and resting beside her, illuminated.
A text from Toni:
“I had been wondering when our paths would cross once more.”
Liv tapped out a quick response:
“Surprised?”
Three dots in the corner of Liv’s screen.
Toni: “Impressed. I commend your preparation and approach, even though I required no such ambush to thwart you.”
Liv: “Noticed you ditched your shoes. Is that a challenge?”
Three dots again.
A foot emoji.
Liv: “I’m going to make you break character, in front of everyone.”
Three dots again.
Another cry-laughing emoji appeared, the same Toni had used to taunt after the fact.
Toni: “Darling, you lack the proper commitment for such a demanding role.”
Liv: “A convincing speech … But not quite award-winning.”
On the other side of the table, Toni shifted in her seat, bringing the chair just a bit closer.
“My goodness, I need a stretch!” Toni proclaimed.
Toni extended both legs out under the chair, feet flexing forward.
And, with her left big toe, grazed Liv on the nose with the slightest of touches.
Liv’s phone screen illuminated once more.
Toni: “Give it your best. Hope you enjoyed the boop, darling.”
She resumed her usual seating position, her leg crossed, and her right foot now dangling nearly on top of Liv.
Oh, you are bold, Liv thought.
While Liv pondered her next move under the table, a seemingly nonplussed Toni resumed the signing.
Inside her head, the thoughts were far less confident.
Why here? Why now?
Toni was no stranger to tickling, either giving or receiving. In another place, in a more private setting, she would have surrendered gladly to such ministrations, enjoying the swell of laughter and subsequent rush of endorphins. But here, in public, in front of her fans, she must endure.
Stay Timeless.
Meanwhile, underneath the table, Liv watched the routine resume, with one change.
Banter.
Scratch of the pen.
Picture (beep or click).
Now a flexing of the foot, not to rotate the joint but probing. Searching. Trying to make physical contact with its antagonist.
Liv let the cycle repeat several times. Let Toni wonder. Let the anticipation build. Let her stew in her thoughts. She remembered sitting helplessly while Toni unlaced her boots. Even when Liv still had her shoes on, looking back, in her heart, she knew what Toni was planning to do. The anticipation that made seconds feel like hours as Toni peeled off Liv’s socks. The way Liv’s own toes had curled instinctively, and then how she’d tried to keep composure and failed spectacularly.
Liv always hated being barefoot because it meant vulnerability. Even at the beach she stayed in sandals — protection from hot sand or a jagged shell. On the ranch, it was rocks, sticks, or stepping in something best left unspecified. In the realm of tickling, where Liv was no total novice, being barefoot heightened vulnerability. It meant no armor. No escape.
Toni had made a show of that vulnerability.
She had earned this. And so had Liv.
Smirking, Liv lifted her hand again.
Toni felt another single finger now, brushing up and down the length of her foot in one smooth, methodical motion.
It started at the heel.
Explored the arch.
Lingered in the very center.
Paused just beneath the toes.
Toni inhaled sharply through her nose.
Then an exhale of relief, as the finger descended along the same path.
It began again, immediately. But slower this time.
Probing.
“Hnngh,” Toni uttered through clenched teeth.
A brief pause. Then the same path, again, except near the end, a quick teasing flutter of multiple fingers before a withdrawal.
Toni jolted.
The movement was subtle but visible. Her sunglasses slipped slightly down her nose.
“A shocking draft from beneath the stage,” she announced, her hand tightening around the pen.
Toni resumed signing for the next person, but the exploration of her swaying foot under the table had now ceased.
You can do this, Toni thought. Mind over matter. You. Are. Timeless.
Internally, Toni’s senses remained on high alert, straining for the slightest unfamiliar touch or the briefest indication of what was happening beneath the table. Meanwhile, the signing continued. The faces in front of her blurred together. Compliments recycled. Toni’s banter began to loop back in on itself. She began standing for photos more often now. Each time, when she returned to her seat, she lowered carefully, angling for the smallest glimpse of Liv past the tablecloth
Nothing.
Liv had positioned herself with a strategic, infuriating precision – able to watch, to act, to touch, but all without being seen.
More faces. More banter. More autographs. More pictures. The stack of pre-ordered glossy black and white photos had grown rather short. A flicker of doubt began to creep in Toni’s mind. Perhaps Liv had, somehow, escaped from under the table without anyone realizing.
The thought almost made her relax.
Just as her reprieve ended.
Liv had enjoyed sitting back for several moments: letting her advantage breathe, making Toni anticipate.
And, quite literally, watching her squirm. While she continued to project a (mostly) unbothered confidence to the room, beneath the table, Toni’s foot, which had started to squirm under Liv’s single-finger ministrations, it now turned and twisted in a frantic yet blind search for its unseen tormentor. Liv watched, amused. She even chanced a few glimpses at her phone.
Liv scooted forward, her face mere inches from Toni’s sole. Then she continued.
She sent two fingers together on the same north-south path: slow and deliberate.
Now, with a single nail, she traced shapes. First a circle. Then a square. Now a question mark. That one had Toni’s foot flailing frantically, trying to evade Liv’s curious yet devastating digit.
You’ve faced opponents of all types, Toni, Liv thought. But can you handle … the toes?
“Only 10 minutes left, folks!” a male voice called out.
“I must say this has been such a wonderful event…” Toni began.
Now, using that same finger, a swipe across the underside of her toes.
The reaction was instant, significant, and, like Toni, dramatic.
Toes clenched into a tight curl, right before the foot snapped back.
Meanwhile: “I do so adore being in control of a roo.. hoom!”
Liv restrained herself from gasping in delight.
A chink in the armor had been found, and an answer to her internal question.
No … she could not handle the toes.
The alarm bells in Toni’s head rang without cease from the second she first felt something touch her toes.
The thought was immediate and terrifying in its clarity:
Not here! Not now!
“Hi, Toni,” the next fan said. “I drove eight hours just to be here.”
Another swipe across the underside of the toes.
A genuine laugh escaped — bright, unguarded — before she forcibly reshaped it into something resembling a more theatrical reaction.
“Eight hours! My, that is quite the journeeee…”
A single fingernail, scratching and testing the soft skin at the base of the toes.
Toni sprang to her feet. “Here now, this calls for a special occasion! Here, stand with me for the picture. Mr. Director! Ready for my close-up…”
Toni struck a pose.
You are radiant, she told herself. You are untouchable!
The flash went off. Farewells were exchanged. One deep breath, and she returned to her chair. By this point, Toni was so flustered she did not even consider attempting another glimpse beneath the table.
Had she done so, she would have seen Liv positioned much closer to the table edge.
Waiting.
Toni sat, smoothed her skirt with both hands. She took a beat to steady her breathing.
Just as something closed gently around her ankle.
Liv’s grip was textbook – muscle memory drilled into her through those first weeks of wrestling training.
Beneath the table, Toni’s left leg thrashed but Liv’s hold was secure around the ankle. Her toes curled instinctively, seeking protection.
Liv wiggled her fingers faster, sketching quick, playful patterns across the arch.
Toni’s foot betrayed itself. It splayed under the sensation, exposing the toes she was trying so valiantly to protect.
Toni bit down lightly on her cheek to prevent bursting out with laughter as Liv’s fingers skittered in the center of her sole.
“Hi, Toni,” the next fan said.
As if on cue, fingers scampered across the underside of her toes.
Toni covered her mouth and the ensuing laugh came out as strangled, disguised as a cough.
That is absolutely unfair, she thought.
“Can you stand for the picture, please?”
“Um, no darling, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay seated. These events do tax the body as well as the soul ohhohoho!”
Her shoulders shook as another precise flurry found its mark.
“Hey there, Toni!” a couple approached, holding hands.
Toni greeted them with a friendly exaggerated wave as her thoughts spiraled.
Do not kick the table. Do not scream. Maintain the image. Maintain—
It began again.
The routine had changed since the beginning of the signing. Now it went like this:
Banter.
Pen scratching across glossy paper.
Fingers tracing across the arch.
The click of a camera app.
Renewed attention paid to the toes.
Farewell.
A belly laugh concealed in another cough: “Would you like a lozenge, Miss Storm?”
A signature written too large or off center.
Picture time: A practiced smile, forced through clenched teeth.
Liv lost count of how many rounds of this occurred: more than three, fewer than ten. Then, from the other side of the table, in a low voice: “will you stop?”
The right leg – unbothered and unspoiled – kicked out in desperate defense.
Liv caught it.
And in one fluid motion, Liv reapplied the headlock, now with both soles secured.
Toni’s mind raced.
This is humiliating. In front of everyone. How dare she. Why is this so unbearable?
Light scratches across the heel. Teasing circles in the center of the arch. That one finger, that one DAMNABLE finger, prospecting the unwelcome territory of her toes.
Below the table, as Liv’s hand stayed in near constant motion, she slowly savored the symmetry of it. She remembered trying to twist away from Toni–the helplessness of having both feet tickled at once.
Above the table: “Thanks for doing this, Toni,” a deep male voice said. “Hope I don’t do anything to make you give me the Storm Zero.”
Liv scribbled rapidly beneath both sets of toes.
“Weeeehehehe, oh – oh my that was hilarious!” Toni said, “Sohoho good!”
A full, bright burst of laughter rang out across the signing area. Her shoulders shook with laughter.
Liv looked up at Toni while her fingers continued their playful assault.
I could get used to this, she thought.
Toni’s internal monologue was far less composed.
Thank GOD for that man’s terrible joke giving me an excuse! She is enjoying this. This is her revenge. I underestimated her. I absolutely underestimated her.
The toe work subsided, allowing Toni to sign, take the picture, and bid the fan goodbye.
Behind him, a mostly empty ballroom.
“Thanks, everyone, that will do it!’ an amplified voice called out.
“Saved by the bell!” Toni said, striking a dramatic pose.
Beneath the table, the light pressure confining her ankles released.
“And still radiant. Um, excuse me, Mr. Convention Manager, sir. Might I have the room to myself for the moment? The performer needs the opportunity to reset, after all…”
Hearing the event come to a close, Liv released Toni’s ankles. Her mission was accomplished. She slipped her shoes back on, taking her time to re-tie them and listening as the noise slowly subsided.
Finally, a silence, but broken quickly.
“You can come out now.”
Liv crawled out from under the table. Toni was sprawled in her wingback chair. She finished typing something on her phone, which was accompanied by the whoosh of a sent message.
“That performance,” Toni said, lifting her chin regally, her voice more steady. “I found it… incredibly immersive.”
Liv leaned back against the table, smirking. “You’re welcome.”
“I underestimated you, my dear.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Toni sighed and sat up, rolling to her feet. “As a famous fictional Englishman once said, the game is afoot. I do hope you are prepared for the next chapter.”
Toni continued, gathering her effects with a flourish as she picked up each item.
“You see, I’d been invited to participate in a special event tonight. For charity, you know. And not only have I chosen to accept, I decided it would be rude if I did not share the experience.”
Toni’s phone dinged.
“You’ll want to check yours as well, darling.”
Liv unlocked her screen to see an Instagram post tagging both herself and Toni Storm:
“BREAKING NEWS! Tonight at NERD CON, don’t miss a special charity event with special guests, Toni Storm and Liv Morgan! Raffle tickets are still available to interact “directly” with these two wrestling stars! You’ve seen them in the ring and on TV, but never like this!”
“I took the liberty of electronically signing your waiver, dear. We’ll see who has the ability to truly endure…”
The attached picture made Liv’s eyes widen as her stomach dropped.
Wooden.
Polished.
Imposing.
A set of stocks.
With room for two.
Toni clapped her hands.
“Won’t this be spectacular? Our vulnerability on glorious display!” Toni cocked an eyebrow and smirked at Liv. “Ready to see who cracks first?”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Liv replied, meeting her gaze.
To Be Continued
Last edited:
