OK...I know I posted this somewhere...this happened quite a few years ago...but it's worth re-feet-ing.
I had two "planned" victims...or two plans that actually worked. One was the girl who used to cut my hair, and the other...my chiropractor. This is the story of my very ticklish hairstylist.
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The Ticklish Victim: Rene. At the time, she was early-mid 20's, about 5'6 with long curly blonde hair and a killer body (she took dance classes for years...GREAT legs that I seldom saw 🙁 ). I always had the hots for her, but she was never available (she had the same boyfriend who became her husband over the years that I went to her). About a size 7 foot.
She almost always wore a smock, dress pants and flats with tan nylons. And...I knew her feet were ticklish. I had a story I used to tell that would get most women to reply with their ticklishness and Rene replied very very well 🙂
The Plan: Find an excuse and opportunity to tickle her. I would usually take one morning/day off a month to schedule my haircut and other BS. One time I was in a rush and threw on some sweats that were not my best...when I walked into the hair salon (fairly big place), Rene made fun of my clothes in front of everyone. So...I wanted her to do that again so I could 'pay her back'. Also...they did the men's hair upstairs in a smaller setting (they had about a dozen chairs for the women downstairs, and maybe four upstairs).
So...if I could get her to tease me, and if I could get her upstairs alone on a slow weekday morning...
The Story:
I walked in wearing my sweats...there were only three of them there...Rene, the front desk girl, and a female customer. Rene says: "Ohh...you got all dressed up again for me!" The other women laughed. Perfect! Rene then leads me upstairs in her white smock with navy pants and matching navy flats. And tan nylons. Did I mention that I like tan nylon covered feet? 😉
She does my hair...and my heart is pounding a bit...I want to do this, but not sure if I could or I should. We make smalltalk as she cuts my hair, but I am 100% focused on getting my hands on her stockinged feet. It kind of happened like this...
She took of my apron and I stood. She started to sweep up the hair on the floor. I looked at myself in the wall mirror and started to pretend to fix my clothes.
Sarcastically, I started in on her..."How dare you make fun of my clothes...my beautiful clothes..."
She put down the broom and started to lead me downstairs, but I was between her and the door.
She giggled. "You're kidding, right? Those things are pretty bad..."
"Pretty bad?" I asked in a fake surprise. She was standing in front of me, obviously waiting for me to move so she could head for the stairs.
"You know, you really shouldn't make fun of a customer's clothes, especially in front of other customers!" I put my hands on her biceps and started to back her up. She started to giggle again..."Hey! What are you doing?"
I backed her into a chair...but not just any chair...the kind that has a "soft back" so you can recline someone's head into the wash-sink. She plopped down and sank back.
"And...especially...when that customer knows you are tic-kle-isshhh..."
In one smooth move I lifted her left foot and turned so I could lock her ankle in my left arm, my back facing her. I slid off her flat (somehow, it landed on her lap) and I began to tickle her beautiful, pedicured with dard red polish, tan-stockinged foot. She was not kidding when she told me she was very ticklish. I started to scratch her nyloned arch with my fingertips, and she exploded with laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHASTAAHHPHAHAHAHAHAHAOHHMYGODHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Because of the chair, she was trapped...no leverage. And this chair was across the room from the wall mirror...so I could tickle foot and watch the whole scene in the mirror! It got a little worse when I tickled near her toes...
"WHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASTOPHAHAHA!!!"
I did stop, but I did not let go of her foot. I turned around a bit...she actually had her shoe in her hand, and was trying to put it back on her foot while I still had a lock on her ankle/calf. My turn to tease.
"Did you say something?" She was trying to pry herself free and put her shoe back on while she caught her breath. I said "here, let me help you with that.." I took the shoe from her hand, tossed it across the room, and swept up her other foot. Off came the other shoe, and now I had two ticklish feet.
"NOOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" I got some good tickling in, but now she really started to fight and was able to use her dancer's legs to free herself. She put her feet square on the floor and wiped away a tear. Somehow...she wasn't mad in the least. She slid on one shoe...then bolted for her other one, slid it on...and ran for the doorway.
Downstairs...it was no big deal. She told me how 'bad' I was, and that she'll never make fun of my clothes again. I paid and left. She cut my hair for a couple more years after that...until I moved away.
But there was one time, I ran into her and some of her friends at a bar, and she even said to me..."remember that time you tickled the shit out of me?"
Like I could forget...
I had two "planned" victims...or two plans that actually worked. One was the girl who used to cut my hair, and the other...my chiropractor. This is the story of my very ticklish hairstylist.
******************************************
The Ticklish Victim: Rene. At the time, she was early-mid 20's, about 5'6 with long curly blonde hair and a killer body (she took dance classes for years...GREAT legs that I seldom saw 🙁 ). I always had the hots for her, but she was never available (she had the same boyfriend who became her husband over the years that I went to her). About a size 7 foot.
She almost always wore a smock, dress pants and flats with tan nylons. And...I knew her feet were ticklish. I had a story I used to tell that would get most women to reply with their ticklishness and Rene replied very very well 🙂
The Plan: Find an excuse and opportunity to tickle her. I would usually take one morning/day off a month to schedule my haircut and other BS. One time I was in a rush and threw on some sweats that were not my best...when I walked into the hair salon (fairly big place), Rene made fun of my clothes in front of everyone. So...I wanted her to do that again so I could 'pay her back'. Also...they did the men's hair upstairs in a smaller setting (they had about a dozen chairs for the women downstairs, and maybe four upstairs).
So...if I could get her to tease me, and if I could get her upstairs alone on a slow weekday morning...
The Story:
I walked in wearing my sweats...there were only three of them there...Rene, the front desk girl, and a female customer. Rene says: "Ohh...you got all dressed up again for me!" The other women laughed. Perfect! Rene then leads me upstairs in her white smock with navy pants and matching navy flats. And tan nylons. Did I mention that I like tan nylon covered feet? 😉
She does my hair...and my heart is pounding a bit...I want to do this, but not sure if I could or I should. We make smalltalk as she cuts my hair, but I am 100% focused on getting my hands on her stockinged feet. It kind of happened like this...
She took of my apron and I stood. She started to sweep up the hair on the floor. I looked at myself in the wall mirror and started to pretend to fix my clothes.
Sarcastically, I started in on her..."How dare you make fun of my clothes...my beautiful clothes..."
She put down the broom and started to lead me downstairs, but I was between her and the door.
She giggled. "You're kidding, right? Those things are pretty bad..."
"Pretty bad?" I asked in a fake surprise. She was standing in front of me, obviously waiting for me to move so she could head for the stairs.
"You know, you really shouldn't make fun of a customer's clothes, especially in front of other customers!" I put my hands on her biceps and started to back her up. She started to giggle again..."Hey! What are you doing?"
I backed her into a chair...but not just any chair...the kind that has a "soft back" so you can recline someone's head into the wash-sink. She plopped down and sank back.
"And...especially...when that customer knows you are tic-kle-isshhh..."
In one smooth move I lifted her left foot and turned so I could lock her ankle in my left arm, my back facing her. I slid off her flat (somehow, it landed on her lap) and I began to tickle her beautiful, pedicured with dard red polish, tan-stockinged foot. She was not kidding when she told me she was very ticklish. I started to scratch her nyloned arch with my fingertips, and she exploded with laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHASTAAHHPHAHAHAHAHAHAOHHMYGODHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Because of the chair, she was trapped...no leverage. And this chair was across the room from the wall mirror...so I could tickle foot and watch the whole scene in the mirror! It got a little worse when I tickled near her toes...
"WHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASTOPHAHAHA!!!"
I did stop, but I did not let go of her foot. I turned around a bit...she actually had her shoe in her hand, and was trying to put it back on her foot while I still had a lock on her ankle/calf. My turn to tease.
"Did you say something?" She was trying to pry herself free and put her shoe back on while she caught her breath. I said "here, let me help you with that.." I took the shoe from her hand, tossed it across the room, and swept up her other foot. Off came the other shoe, and now I had two ticklish feet.
"NOOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" I got some good tickling in, but now she really started to fight and was able to use her dancer's legs to free herself. She put her feet square on the floor and wiped away a tear. Somehow...she wasn't mad in the least. She slid on one shoe...then bolted for her other one, slid it on...and ran for the doorway.
Downstairs...it was no big deal. She told me how 'bad' I was, and that she'll never make fun of my clothes again. I paid and left. She cut my hair for a couple more years after that...until I moved away.
But there was one time, I ran into her and some of her friends at a bar, and she even said to me..."remember that time you tickled the shit out of me?"
Like I could forget...
