The Costa Rica Spa Treatment (update), Part 1&2 of 4 (MFF/F everywhere, intense, 1st-person vanilla recipient, BASED ON truth)

[Zeezil]

The following is BASED ON a true story.

Some of the names and details have been changed for dramatic purposes and to protect the extremely ticklish.

Enjoy!

PART 1 OF 4

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Gotta share this crazy story with you spa freaks. It’s both embarrassing and hilarious. And maybe enlightening? This happened in Costa Rica over 10 years ago. I guess I can look back on it now and laugh. And yes, laughter is a key part of this story, but at the time I was more than a bit shook up.

So on our honeymoon my husband and I went to this high end resort in Costa Rica. They had these pool games throughout the week that the resort staffers ran and on our second to last day we won the grand prize after crushing the competition at a pool 3-pointer contest. My husband and I both played Division 1 basketball in college and at the time were both still in really great shape. The grand prize was a top-shelf treatment at the resort’s spa, which my husband gave to me. I had no idea what the treatment entailed but I didn’t really care. I love winning things and I love being pampered. Well, up to a point. I stopped by the spa desk and before dinner that night and booked an appointment for 8AM the following day.

Fast forward to the next morning, I go to the spa’s front desk with my certificate and they guide me to this room with three local workers waiting in it. None of them speak English. Even just saying stuff like “lay down here” and “yes” and “no” they were saying in Spanish, which I didn’t know a word of at the time. Suffice to say there was pretty much no verbal communication between me and the workers. Whatever, they seemed nice and professional and I was excited about whatever this free treatment was going to be. I didn’t bother to really look at any of their faces, which I later regretted. The room was serene, it was dark but they had candles going, and the walls were high but I noticed didn't entirely reach to the ceiling, so you could tell other people were possibly getting treatments or massages done in other rooms on the other sides of the walls. The one woman kind of pantomimed to me that it was like a facial, and involved mud and massage and a wrap thing around my body. Sounded good to me. I had just showered and they had my hair wrapped up nicely in a light towel, and I lay on the plastic covered massage table in my bikini, face down. The towels were SO soft, and I was feeling very blissful. So far, so good!

The first 30 minutes or so felt great and nothing was weird or crazy. It was like a slimy mud scrub, then a wash off, then an oil deep massage on my back and legs, then this warm kind of sugar scrub thing which they didn’t remove at first. Then they coated me in some more water, and then they used something they put on their hands, these glove device things, which I assume was some sort of exfoliation process. I couldn't see the gloves because I was face down, but the only thing I could think of was that it was similar to those glove things you wear if you're giving your dog a bath. They felt like they had nubs all over them, and they weren't pressing down very hard, and so, on my back, their moves started to get a little ticklish in certain spots and I began giggling. It got really bad when they rubbed down my sides and I sort of shrieked (I'm really, really ticklish, pretty much everywhere, as you’ll soon find out) and I clamped my elbows down to protect myself, but I was still laughing through the massage table hole my face was in. I could hear the staffers laughing too, and then I felt two hands on my wrists slowly pull my hands over my head, so they could get full access to my sides. My bikini top was removed at some point too which I didn't notice but it made sense for them to access my entire back, and the woman with the gloves worked all over my back but then went back to my sides, and then up and down my sides she went at least 4 or 5 times, and each time tickled worse that the first time, and I laughed more and more. As did all three of them. This was also the first time I heard a word they would keep repeating, which sounded like “Coke skiers.” “Ha ha, coke skiers.”

I have had short sports massages before in America, and physical therapy work, and usually if you signal that you're ticklish, which I always do, the person will stop what they're doing and try something else so as not to tickle. Not so in Costa Rica, apparently! They were determined to scrub every inch of me, whether I was squirming and giggling like a school girl or not, and my ticklishness moreover seemed to amuse them greatly. But whatever, I didn't think too much of it as I caught my breath and they moved to my legs.

As they worked down my legs with the glove thingies, I started to laugh and squirm again, and then I started to freak out a little the lower they got down my legs because I thought they were going to do all this tickly glove stuff to the bottoms of my feet. Oh, yes my feet.

As an important side note, we need to talk about my feet for a second, because they do play a key part in this story. There are three significant things to know about them:

1. They're big. As a kid I was always extremely self conscious about my feet, because they were huge, always bigger than my peers. I had a major growth spurt in my early teens (topping out at just under 6 feet tall, which helped in basketball for sure) and they eventually became proportional to the rest of me as I grew, but they weren't throughout my whole childhood. And because I was so embarrassed about them, I never let anyone near them. I kept them hidden in shoes, always, never wore flip flops or open toes shoes in front of people, anywhere. It wasn't until my first basketball camp where I was told by numerous other girls that they were, and I quote, and this is the Number 2 thing about them...

2. They're "perfect." I had no idea what that meant, but during a late night nail painting session at camp, the girls I was with wouldn't stop commenting on how apparently "perfectly shaped" my feet were. "Oh my gosh I would kill for your feet!" "Seriously, they they are big but you have, like perfect feet." I remember those two quotes specifically. That definitely gave me way more confidence about them, and in college I was more open about "revealing" them to the public. Wearing sandals, open toed heels, etc. I also started to get pretty obsessive about taking care of them, putting lotion on them every night, keeping my nails maintained and all that. I became quite proud of them, lol. How many of us have "perfect feet”!? Still, I was protective of them and never let anyone touch them, including boyfriends, because, well, you’ll see in #3. But their “perfectness” was confirmed and corroborated during my first pedicure when I was 18 before my aunt's wedding. I distinctly remember the Korean nail tech commenting on them before she put them in the water. She kept saying "Very nice feet. Very nice feet." and she even brought her co-worker over to see my "perfect" feet. “Your feet are poster. Look, poster, your feet are poster.” Huh? There was a big poster close of this woman’s feet with shiny red nails on the wall, one of those stock photos they give to nail salons, and she was saying my feet looked like the ones in the poster. “Skinny ankles, perfect toes. I make your nails look like poster.” I was embarrassed and flattered at the same time. Hey, if anyone knows what "perfect feet" look like, I suppose it's people who work at nail salons all day! Anyway, the third most important attribute (or weakness!) about them came to light in this same nail salon visit, as we discovered…

3. They are insanely, insanely ticklish. This being my first pedicure, I had thought they just painted your toenails, I had no idea they did all that washing and scrubbing on the bottom stuff. Well, when that lady took the pumice stone thing out and started on my soles so non-chalantly, I about had a conniption. Laughing, squirming. And then she scrubbing with the sponge. Ahhh!!!! “Ah, your feet tickly too. Ha ha” Thankfully it didn't last long, as apparently my feet don't really callous up even with all my sports, but for the 30 seconds on each foot or so she worked, I shriek-laughed and squirmed the entire time, without abandon, I just couldn’t hold it in. My relatives of course thought it was hilarious, but it was on that day that I realized my "perfect feet" were not so perfect after all: they apparently have an high concentration of extremely ticklish nerve endings. Some people use the phrase "I have the most ticklish feet in the world" but I, like, literally think I do.

So to recap:
1. They're huge (size 11)
2. They're "perfect"
3. They're off-the charts ticklish

This is all important information for the rest of this story. Oh, and speaking of pedicures, I had the second pedicure of my entire life the day before my wedding (again, short but excruciatingly ticklish), so my feet, at the time of this massage, were already smooth as silk. Yes, this does come into play later.

Ok so back to the spa massage at the resort…They're down to my ankles then work their way back of my calves, and now I feel four gloves on my legs, and I’m laughing and squirming pretty hard now as they're working up and own my ticklish long legs, behind my knees, behind my thighs, back to my calves, and they're all laughing too, and my mind is racing trying to figure out how to signal to them to NOT touch my feet. I’m afraid that if they even brush them quickly with their hands I’m going to jump off the table and severely embarrass myself. (I'm kind of the jumpy ticklish type, lol). They then take off the gloves and are using just their hands, four hands massaging both legs simultaneously, which still tickles but not as much as the gloves, but each time they’re working up and down they thankfully always stop at my ankles. I was still laughing a bit as they tapped my back to indicate to me that I was to turn over to lay on my back, but I also realize that the crisis is averted, they're totally skipping my feet! I turn over, still giggling, and they’re all smiling, and the smiles and apparent joy on my face they seemed to take as a sign that I was enjoying everything. And I sort of was? Up to this point. I have a love/hate relationship with tickling. I love to laugh, and laughter feels SO good, but tickling, well…tickles! I don’t know how else to describe it. Ok so I giggled a little…alright, a lot…during the first half of my massage because of my "affliction." A lot of it also felt really, really good. How much worse could my ticklishness get? I had absolutely no clue how worse it was about to become.

[PART 1 of 4 complete] …

 

[Zeezil]

PART 2 OF 4

After I flipped over, they started at the front of my ankles and didn’t touch my feet at all (thank you!), worked their way up the front of my legs, which tickled here and there, but nothing too crazy. Then they covered my legs with sheets and then prepared to work on my torso. “Coke skiers” one of them said. There’s the phrase again. “Ci, ci” the other responded, as if they were taking orders. My apprehension and nervousness started to rise when two of the workers raised my wrists over my head again, and lightly but firmly held them, straight out. As my hands were held over and behind my head, the third worker applied oil to my entire bare front torso, quickly and all at once, then started kneading my stomach like dough, and I start laughing hard immediately. I tried to squirm but the other two workers held my arms firmly in place. The masseuse working on me took her job seriously, apparently! She laughed as I laughed, and the other staffers were laughing too. Everyone was laughing, but of course I, the client, was laughing the most. I don't understand Spanish at all, but as I laughed they kept saying that phrase again, "Coke skiers" "Coke skiers" "Ci Ci. Buena, buena” (I figured out what this all meant later). She slid her oily hands all over my stomach, around by boobs, and the absolute worst was under my arms. When she got there she has her fingers behind my shoulders and uses her thumbs pressed into each of my armpits and simultaneously twirls them in this torturous circular motion. This got me right up the the high shrieking level of laughter I rarely get to. I’m trying to pull my arms down to protect me but the other two are not letting go, and they’re all laughing. "Coke skiers, coke skiers, ci ci" “Sana, sana” “ci, ci” “beuna, buena” Between gasps I tried to say to them, even though I knew they didn't understand, "I'm sorry hahaha but this hahaha really hahahahah TICKLES! hahahaha.” Then she stopped. But the workers behind me still didn't let my arms down, they just jostle them a little, like they were athletic workout ropes at the gym, but still hold fast to my wrists. The lady working my torso left my field of vision and came back with two new things on her hands. The gloves. I could see them now. Yep, they were exactly like pet grooming gloves, just with not as sharp nubs. They were some kind of exfoliating gloves but they wow it was like they were designed to stimulate. She showed her palms to me in an almost apologetic fashion as if to say, "Brace yourself, tall and laughy American woman, this is going to tickle...A LOT."

And did it. Oh wow, did it. Her regular hands tickled like mad but when she scrubbed those gloves all over my stomach, chest, and my sides, and then my stomach again, and my around my breasts…I swear I have never laughed more in my life. (Up to that point, anyway. There was way worse coming, I would soon find out) And of course they all laughed. And as she approached my worst spot with the gloves, my armpits, I began shaking my head, begging, "no, no, no" and then she just dug in, and scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed with her fingers and thumbs with these crazy ticklish gloves. My back arches and I’m at the "silent laughing" stage at this point as it was like electric laughter shocks to my body. Those thumbs, I'll never forget how she worked those thumbs into my underarms with those stimulating gloves on. And her thumbs just stayed there in my hollows, circling and circling. It was probably only for 10-15 seconds but it felt like an hour. Finally the workers let go of my arms, and I immediately pinned them down to my sides, but the lady working her thumbs in my armpits STAYED THERE, continuing to circle and TICKLE. The harder I held my arms down, the more it tickled. I brought my knees up to my chest and I’m basically in the fetal position, on my back. She finally, FINALLY showed mercy on me and removed her hands, and took her gloves off. The workers, all laughing, toweled me off very matter of factly as I continued to laugh on the table, even though nothing was tickling me any longer. Before I could even get my bearings and completely catch my breath, I felt two hands on my ankles, strengthening me out, and the next thing I know they were wrapping me in these large cool seaweed-like sheets, which I guess was the next phase of the treatment. Then they put a warm cloths all over my feet (thank god they didn't do anything directly to my feet, I would have went insane at that point) and then wrapped me entirely in plastic, over the seaweed, and then wrapped me tightly in this thin sheet, then a thick sheet, also tightly, and then tuck, tuck, tuck. I remember thinking that this was really tight what they were doing, I couldn’t move an inch.

So my treatment was apparently not complete. There was a third stage. My entire body was now wrapped from head to toe in a seaweed, sheet, and towel cocoon. Super tight. I felt like a mummy, but with my arms pinned to my sides, inside a burrito, lol. It was so tight it was almost as if I was in like a giant compression sock, but maybe that was intentional? Part of the treatment? My legs and feet were slightly raised off the table, kind of in the air almost, but were protected and secure, wrapped snugly underneath all the layers. The only thing exposed was the very top of my shoulders, and my face. And honestly, even though I was super tight, this all felt very, very nice. I was warm, but not too warm, as the seaweed was cool. I was exhausted with all my laughter, but somewhat euphoric, like I had just finished a nice run. My extremely sensitive body was completely protected underneath the cocoon, and only my face was going to be worked on in some way. Just my face. Maybe the top of my shoulders. That was the last part of this treatment. This was all going to end in a serene, calm fashion. Heck, I might even fall asleep. Ah, bliss!

Turned out, nothing could be further from the truth.

Looking back, my positive, jolly demeanor when I was laughing during the front and back parts of the massage might have sealed my fate for what happened after. I'm told I have a very loud, infectious laugh, that has many different levels. I giggle, I "regular laugh," which is the level they got me when I was on my stomach, and then I reach what I call peak laughter. I rarely, rarely reach that peak intense laughter where I half scream, half "HA HA HA HA HA" very loudly, but even then it comes across like I'm extremely happy and having the time of my life. Even if I'm not! I definitely reached this stage when they were working on my armpits, as they also laughed away. Laughter bonds you with people, and I think all of my jovial, happy laughter when they were going to town on my legs, then chest, stomach and armpits I’m sure came across as playful and affirming to them, up until this point.

Just when I thought they were done with my cocooning, they then put this heavy final blanket over everything, almost like the kind of X-ray blanket they put on top of you at the dentist. I didn’t think much of it but it seemed like overkill, this last heavy blanket. Everything was so tight it was like I was encased in very comfortable cement block made of seaweed and fabric. But whatever, I felt very safe and serene, and I’m still feeling great as all three Costa Rican staffers start tending to my exposed face, putting this mask thing on me with these brushes and their fingers. It felt great and tasted great too, and I realized the brown stuff wasn’t mud but a kind of chocolate paste. Then the facial woman started putting seaweed strips on my face, one at a time, almost like paper mache. Basically my entire face was covered with these seaweed strips, including my mouth, and so I was breathing just out of my nose. My face eventually was basically mummified and I remember giggling out loud about how silly I must look with a seaweed covered mask face and my hair in a towel. She capped it off with a cool cucumber over each eye, with felt really good. I also giggled a little when they used the brushes on my neck, which tickled, but it was harmless tickling. They laughed with me as I giggled, and it was a sort of bond with them again. I felt happy and serene, and I could slowly feel myself drifting off to sleep.

ZZzzzzzz…

And then, just like that, something awakened me, abruptly.

I distinctly remember the sound that awakened me, it was the rubbing of two small stools on the floor. There were two of them, but it wasn’t the sound itself that startled me, it was where the sound was coming from. They stools were no longer near my face. They were at my feet.

No. Please tell me this doesn't mean what I think it does.

It did.

[PART 2 COMPLETE]

 

[Zeezil]

PART 3 OF 4


And then I felt it. I could feel the fabric at the end of the table being jostled and sort of opened, as hands at the other end began to simultaneously unwrap the bottom of my cocoon. Oh no. OMG no. Please tell me they’re not going to do anything to feet…my BARE feet while I’m wrapped up tightly like a mummy in a burrito. I can’t even open my mouth, and even if I could, I couldn’t speak Spanish to them to tell NOT to touch my feet. The warm towels that tightly wrapped both feet underneath all the cocooning were completely removed, and before I could even figure out what was happening I felt the hot Costa Rican air hitting my warm and now completely naked feet. I flexed my toes and my feet tried to "feel" the air, like they were my hands searching a dark room. I hoped against hope they were just letting my feet "air out" and they weren't going to touch them, but no sooner did that thought enter my mind when heard the distinct sound of the lathering up of massage cream. I don’t know why but at that moment I almost had an out of body experience as my heart raced, and I pictured the scene, almost floating above myself. I’m on a table and there are my eyes covered in two big cucumbers, the rest of my face has seaweed all over it, my head is in a towel. Then, like in a movie, the camera is panning down my body, which is completely unseen, covered snugly in 4 layers of spa linens and a heavy medical like blanket, and then at the very end, sticking abruptly out of the encasement of spa linens like two feet in a magician’s sawing a woman in two act, my tanned on the top, white on the bottom, bright red painted toe-nailed smooth as silk “perfect feet” twitching in the air, completely exposed, grasping for something, anything. They’re trying to communicate as they’re floating in the ether. Toes pointed up, then curled, then moving back and forth, trying to almost ground themselves in some way, but obviously to no avail.

I’m realizing too how there is no movement possible around my ankles. These workers were such experts with how they wrapped me, each foot from just above the ankle down jutted out from all the blankets, but one couldn’t cover the other. They were just far apart enough where one couldn’t touch the other one to protect the other foot. And there was a towel of some sort between them, so they couldn’t move up, down, left or right. It was like the workers were origami experts but with spa blankets and towels.

And then it happened: Just like that I felt two hands on each foot, fingers wrapped around the tops, and thumbs on the soles, softly caressing my arches and heels and tops of my feet and toes with this warm oily cream. I immediately shook my feet and “jumped” (although I couldn’t move an inch) and shriek-giggled through my nose, which I didn’t know was possible, and then shrieked through my seaweed covered lips.

Again I cannot emphasize how ticklish my feet are. On a scale of 1 to 10 I’m like a 100. At this point all they’re doing is basic foot massage “moves,” but they’re slithering their fingers and hands and palms all over my long size 11 feet (which, again, I stupidly got pedicured for my wedding and so they were super soft, i.e. at peak ticklishness), applying the massage cream to every exposed inch of them, and I’m immediately shriek-laughing through my lips and breathing like crazy through my nose and I trying to shake my head back and forth to somehow how communicate how torturous even basic foot massage techniques feel like on my feet, but to no avail. There was also something so intense about being wrapped up warmly, and my whole body below my shoulders completely protected…except for my feet. That seemed to heighten their sensitivity even more than if my whole body was exposed.

And away they went, massaging all over, between my toes, cupping my heels, just slithering all over every square inch of both of my hyper-ticklish feet with this cream/oil stuff. I’m not giggling, I’m going absolutely ballistic shaking my head and laughing and the woman doing my facial part says something to them at the other end and THEN I HEAR THEM ALL LAUGHING again more than they were before. I can only imagine what they're saying in Spanish! "You were right! Her feet are the worst spot! We hit pay dirt!" And for a second they completely stop. Are they showing mercy? Are they just going to skip my feet because they realize that mine are just not massage-able? They’re clearly just TOO TICKLISH? Wishful thinking. Just as I catch my breath, I feel the toes of my left foot pushed back, and then like a TICKLE-SCRATCHING up and down the entirety of my taut arch. The dude on my left foot is now intentionally tickling my foot! He scratches his fingertips from the ball of my foot, down the arch, to the heel, and back up again to the ball of my foot, methodically, then, down, then back again. Now I’m screaming and laughing, again, all with my mouth pretty much sealed shut.

Believe it or not, it gets worse.

The chick starts doing the same exact thing to my right foot, but she clearly has FINGER NAILS. So they’re both now intentionally tickling the absolute bejeezus out of my feet, and they’re laughing while they’re doing it! At this point I’m legit going crazy. My lips finally break through the seaweed and now I'm full-open mouth laughing as loud as I ever have, louder than when they were attacking my underarms. I'm at peak laughing so hard I and gasping for breath. Picture it: I’m wrapped up like a tight burrito, can’t move an inch, I have cucumbers on my eyes, I have the CRAZIEST most ticklish feet in the entire world which are sticking out the end of my spa mummification, bare, at prime ticklishness, and these two Costa Ricans are going to town on them like Medieval torturers with no end in sight. They switch feet, as the nails go to my right foot, and the other hands move to the left foot. Up and down, up and down. Spider tickling from heels to toes, toes to heels and back. The feelings, I can’t even begin to describe, like a new color. I just can’t put into words how laughter-inducing what they’re doing to me is.

This is all absolutely hilarious to them, apparently. Through my laughter I can hear the woman finishing up my facial just sort of make this clicking tsk tsk sound and I can’t tell if she’s admonishing me for laughing so hard or to her co-workers for tickling my feet so thoroughly. They finally stop the intentional tickling and go back to their normal foot massaging tasks, most of which of course still tickle like mad. The mud part, the sugar scrub, more massaging. Some of it I just regular laugh through, but some of the regular massaging moves tickle so bad I’m going back to the squealing and head shaking, which they all continue to find terribly funny, of course, then they go back to the stuff that feels kind of good. Just when I think they’re being nice, they go back to intentionally tickling me with their nails and fingertips. Scratching all over my soles, digging in between my toes, even attacking the tops of my feet. I swear it was like a game to them. Like they were trying to find my breaking point. They’re talking in Spanish to each other and I can only imagine what they’re saying. “Look at this silly tall American woman’s ticklish feet! Look how ticklish she is! And she can’t move! Ja ja ja. Here, watch this. Get in between her toes. Watch right here, watch how crazy she gets! ja ja ja. She's the most ticklish one we've ever worked on! Ja ja ja.” The woman at my head still, I must admit, was trying to calm me, and help saying “Buena, buena. Sana Sana” She sometimes caresses my cheek with her palm, in a motherly way, saying, sometimes while giggling herself, “coke skiers, muy sana, may sana”

This whole part of this “high end spa treatment” goes on for like, no joke, 45 minutes, again, entirely just on my feet. It was like a roller coaster of laughter. In fact, I'm never not laughing. I'm laughing the entire time, going between hard giggling during the regular massage, and laughing like a mad clown when they intentionally tickle. And it's not just their nails, they also intentionally caress with their fingertips, and their thumb pads, and thumbnails, GOSH their thumbnails, right where my heels meet my arches, (my 3rd worst spot), and the tops of my arches (My 2nd worst spot) right below the balls of my feet. And tied for my second worst spot is between my toes. The girl with the nails apparently had small hands, because she kept doing this thing where she would put all four of her fingers between my toes (and with my big feet and toes, there was plenty of room for her small fingers!) and she’d glide her fingers in and out, in and out, in and out. And they she’d take her free thumb and drag I across my arches while she was going in and out of my toes with her fingers. It was like this “move” that had me absolutely shaking and laughing at my highest peak, and was far and away the most ticklish feeling I had every experienced, until, well the last thing they did…

As another aside I know I'm being really descriptive here, but again, I remember EVERYTHING because it's like PTSD. I occasionally would try to belt out a “This TICKLES! I'm so ticklish” but of course A, they knew this, B, they don’t speak English, and C, even if they did, they clearly didn’t care. They're having an absolute blast making this tall American woman's feet like they're playing two of the most fun toys they've ever played. “Buena, buena” “Sana, sana” “Coke skiers, coke skiers.”

Then the facialist says “Ok, aqua.” Agua? Water. That I do know. Aqua means water. Oh nice, they’re going to give me some water. No, that’s not what “aqua” meant. So out comes this large plastic sheet, with two holes in it, for my ankles. They drape the plastic over the lower half of me, place my feet through the holes, which cinch tight like a shower cap, and so my bare feet are still exposed to them but the rest of the linens are protected by the plastic. Whatever they’re about to do involves water, apparently. I desperately hope that it will feel calming and soothing, but alas, it did not. I feel both sets of my toes pulled back, apparently by one worker on each foot, then the facialist is working some sort of water jet. I feel nothing for a good thirty seconds. I’m still laughing, but the anticipation is killing me. What are they going to….GAHHHHH!!!!!!!! I feel these water jets on my feet, and they’re extremely concentrated, like shower heads. “Ci….Ci…” I hear saying as she’s essentially “painting” my soles with these water jets. Up and down, up and down. I’m trying to curl my toes, but they’re being held back my the other two workers. There’s one spot on both of my feet which is far and away the absolute most ticklish spot not just on my feet but my entire body, and they hit it with the jets repeatedly, and as much as I try not give away that spot, I know I reach my absolute peak when they hit it. They hit it at least 5 times, and I hope they didn’t notice how different that spot was, but I would later find out they did. Then they hit my second worst spot when two of them kind of forcibly spread my toes as much as they could, and sprayed the jets IN BETWEEN my toes. I’m just about to lose by breath because I’m doing almost all exhaling, and not inhaling. THESE WATER JETS TICKLE LIKE NOTHING BEFORE….and then they finally stop. I feel the plastic coming off, and then they towel off my still protruding and trapped feet, which did feel good as a nice break from the water, and now I’m thinking they are finally, FINALLY done. But no, there’s one last chapter in this saga.

To be clear, up to this point, I don't think I've ever experienced anything this intense in my entire life. It's like these Costa Rican spa workers were all expert tickling researchers, taking mental notes and mapping every centimeter of my lower extremities during the entire session, because what they did at the end, was so deliberate and so specific, I don’t think the best interrogators in the world could have ever come up with something so effective on someone like me.

My feet are now dry and I hear them talking in Spanish, having a pretty long conversation, and I try to interrupt and interpret, even though I don’t know anything they’re saying. "Are we finished, are we done?" I ask, even though I know they can't understand me. My cucumbers are gone from my eyes, all the seaweed is pretty much off my face because I'm sweating from laughing so much and for so long. Then I hear the sound of lotion lathering in hands again, I feel both of my feet being covered in massage cream for one last time. You’d think at this point I would be used to all this stimulation by now but no, my feet are still shaking and I’m still scream laughing with every massaging touch of their fingers. But this lathering was brief this time as they soon then they pull their hands away.

Then I hear it. The distinctive sound of one of them is putting on the gloves. Oh no. OH GOD NO. NOT THE GLOVES. NOT ON MY FEET. PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THE GLOVES.

[PART 3 COMPLETE]

 

[pghtickleguy]

What a fantastic story. Great writing and details