Coventrytickler
Registered User
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2024
- Messages
- 16
- Points
- 13
Over the weekend our marketing and sales team were setting up at an exhibition, starting on Monday. Having worked in exhibitions previously, I to assist, from a technical point of view. My decision was based on my knowledge and knowing that the exhibition stand had a cream carpet, once the carpet is down, there is an unwritten rule that there are no shoes allowed on it, until the show starts.
I arrived on Sunday morning and collected my pass before heading to the stand, everything was in place, with the finishing touches being applied by the delivery team.
I made some small talk with 2 of the sales reps, both female and in their mid thirties.
M had long blonde hair, glasses and was dressed in jeans, t shirt and trainers. P had auburn hair, tied in a ponytail, t shirt, black trousers and flats.
I asked them if they were both happy with the orientation of the products, suggesting that one of the heavier products needed the angle changing, after a brief discussion, they agreed.
I took off my shoes, leaving them at the front of the stand before checking the wiring under the product, trying to find a way for both of them to kick their shoes off and join me on the stand. I asked M if she could unplug the product so that I could lift it, knowing that the wires were tangled under the plinth.
They both kicked off their shoes, M wearing white trainer socks and P showing off her pale, bare feet, with french tips. They made their way to me before I said, ‘can one of you take the plug out, but keep ahold of it so it doesn’t retract up the plinth. Without hesitation, P got in her hands and knees, moving to the door of the plinth. I looked down and saw her feet from her wrinkled arches up to her toes, heels hidden by her bum, they were near perfect. She had obviously been for a pedicure recently, maybe so she could wear open shoes to the exhibition.
She leant forward into the plinth and began to untangle the wires, whilst M watched. I made a joke about hurrying up as the product was getting heavy. She moaned about having to untangle the wires.
‘Come on M, give her some encouragement’ I joked, expecting her to help out.
Before M could help out, P pulled the plug out, showing me it through the door before sitting back on her heels.
‘Don’t drop it now, otherwise it will be a pain to get back when I move this’ I said.
As I began turning the product, I heard a little shriek. I glanced back to see M tickling P’s arches with her nails.
‘Fuck off’ P said, trying to swot M’s hands away with her free hand.
‘He said, don’t drop it’ M teased, continuing to lightly tickle P’s feet.
She giggled before letting go of the plug and moving away.
I put the product down and told M that she had to retrieve the plug, expecting P to tickle back but she didn’t.
Once it was moved and we stood on the stand, I told P that she had the perfect opportunity for payback but she replied, ‘I already know that her feet aren’t ticklish’.
It was disappointing to hear that but my mind wondered to how she would know that? They must have tickled each other before.
I hung around for a bit, just in case anything else happened, but unfortunately nothing.
I arrived on Sunday morning and collected my pass before heading to the stand, everything was in place, with the finishing touches being applied by the delivery team.
I made some small talk with 2 of the sales reps, both female and in their mid thirties.
M had long blonde hair, glasses and was dressed in jeans, t shirt and trainers. P had auburn hair, tied in a ponytail, t shirt, black trousers and flats.
I asked them if they were both happy with the orientation of the products, suggesting that one of the heavier products needed the angle changing, after a brief discussion, they agreed.
I took off my shoes, leaving them at the front of the stand before checking the wiring under the product, trying to find a way for both of them to kick their shoes off and join me on the stand. I asked M if she could unplug the product so that I could lift it, knowing that the wires were tangled under the plinth.
They both kicked off their shoes, M wearing white trainer socks and P showing off her pale, bare feet, with french tips. They made their way to me before I said, ‘can one of you take the plug out, but keep ahold of it so it doesn’t retract up the plinth. Without hesitation, P got in her hands and knees, moving to the door of the plinth. I looked down and saw her feet from her wrinkled arches up to her toes, heels hidden by her bum, they were near perfect. She had obviously been for a pedicure recently, maybe so she could wear open shoes to the exhibition.
She leant forward into the plinth and began to untangle the wires, whilst M watched. I made a joke about hurrying up as the product was getting heavy. She moaned about having to untangle the wires.
‘Come on M, give her some encouragement’ I joked, expecting her to help out.
Before M could help out, P pulled the plug out, showing me it through the door before sitting back on her heels.
‘Don’t drop it now, otherwise it will be a pain to get back when I move this’ I said.
As I began turning the product, I heard a little shriek. I glanced back to see M tickling P’s arches with her nails.
‘Fuck off’ P said, trying to swot M’s hands away with her free hand.
‘He said, don’t drop it’ M teased, continuing to lightly tickle P’s feet.
She giggled before letting go of the plug and moving away.
I put the product down and told M that she had to retrieve the plug, expecting P to tickle back but she didn’t.
Once it was moved and we stood on the stand, I told P that she had the perfect opportunity for payback but she replied, ‘I already know that her feet aren’t ticklish’.
It was disappointing to hear that but my mind wondered to how she would know that? They must have tickled each other before.
I hung around for a bit, just in case anything else happened, but unfortunately nothing.
