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PREFACE
I wrote most of this in early 2017, and just dusted it off and finished it now. It was mostly a bunch of unrelated scenes and I just stuck 'em together, so don't mind any plot holes or loose ends. I've never written a fiction story, this is my first one. It came about because I had seen a clip from this interview with Katy Tur and Donald Trump (it's within the video below, you probably remember it, she's stammering and he's barking at her a bit)....and in my warped mind, it felt as if it could have turned into tickle taunting her.
THEN.....I happened to see THIS clip that somebody made and put up.
That cracked me up and I couldn't get away from it: these two had a little chemistry! A little amorous tension! It's so cute! As if they had little crushes on each other! (I'm not saying they actually did, I'm saying it looks like it, in these particular moments). And so I thought: let's get these two kids together!
(I also came across this hot heel-pop clip, that inspired an early part of the story.)
So began this tale that grew way longer than I had anticipated, mostly as a result of trying to connect all the different unrelated scenes together into a semi-coherent narrative. There's also a couple of homages in there, one pretty obscure and one not obscure.
I laughed my way through writing this, it was so much fun, this is as much a comedy piece as it is for our "thing". It's also very much a love story! I hope you not only find it to your liking as a partialist to tickling...but that you also have some good laughs....in fact maybe you'll even find it cathartic! I think both "sides" get burned, although I admit it's hard to make Trump into a romantic hero. You'll see what I mean, I think it works better this way. Anyways, not to be taken seriously! I've never really seen Katy Tur's work (she's on during the day, when I'm working) and what little I've seen of it, I'm not sure she's particularly like the person depicted in the story so ...it could just be a fictitious journalist named Katy, if that works for you. (the real Katy Tur got married shortly after the election, so it most definitely is a work of fiction!)
It's all to be taken as a goof. I'm not a Trump supporter, nor a fan of Tur. I pretty much steered clear of most of the controversial elements of the last few years. Recently someone here wrote a story here in which the writer's fantasy was to have a liberal girl's teeth removed so that she became a fellatio machine - and there was hardly a peep of protest about it - so I don't see how anyone here could have any quibbles with this much more benign piece of fiction.)
And so without any further ado, here's the story, a little something I like to call:
Katy & The Donald (Or How Katy Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Getting Tickled)
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"Oh please, Donald, don't!"
The President had his hands wrapped around Katy's waist like a belt, and he was tickling her. Again.
Ever since she had started meeting with him in private, hustled into hotel rooms, private estates and sometimes even to the White House itself, he had taken to disarming her with tickles soon after she'd arrive, often during her always-rehearsed speech that she had to stop meeting him like this, that she was there to interview him, that she was a professional. The ticklings had gone from flirty to frisky, and she found herself feeling skittish and defensive even hours after the ticklings.
Her protestations aside, by this point she was starting to surrender to the reality: she was going to be the President's media mistress. All intellectual reservations melted away when she was hit with the reality that this...thing, this great orange beast, this force of nature - was the most powerful man in the world, regardless of how he got there. And he always did it his way. Try as she might to resist, it - he - caused her to feel a mixture of conflicting feelings.
Case in point: she felt giddy when she was in his presence. There was something about him that would make her feel like a college girl flirting with her Daddy's obnoxious business partner, a kind of man of whom she'd have had nothing but ambivalence, even contempt....but now was suddenly attractive, a charming man with power, occupying the highest office in the land. He wasn't just a man, he was now "the" man...albeit one with a curious finger who somehow knew her body intuitively and kept her physically on the defensive. His playing around kept her feeling feminine, kept her feeling light and happy and giggly, pretty and desirable. As much as she tried to detest him and all he stood for, one finger was all it took to turn her into a giggling mess, promising anything, anything to make his tickling stop.
His habit of doing this had actually started during one of their most infamous public exchanges, though it was initially edited out for broadcast.
The interview had been wearing her down. He was just so nasty! Why did he have to be so nasty? He had been so sweet and gentlemanly moments earlier...but now that the camera was rolling, he was being combative, aggressive, dismissive....and she started to feel off her game. When he almost bit her head off with a particularly snide put-down, she started to actually get nervous.
"Um....with immigration...you say....." she fumbled with her papers, and Trump immediately barked back.
"Come on, get it out. You don't even know what you're talking about."
As she struggled to get the words out, the billionaire....or was it millionaire?... reached down, grabbed her ankle and slyly removed her shoe. She looked confusingly at him as she continued to stammer. What was he doing?
Pinching her toes, he began to taunt her: "Get it out, c'mon, you can do it."
The feel of him fiddling with her toes tickled and she started to giggle shyly, stirring in her seat at first, then holding her clipboard of questions up to her face, blocking her smiling, giggly mouth, with only her brown eyes, wide and wild, revealed.
The president smiled. "That's it." he sing-songed. "That's it, let it out, Katy."
"Stop it! I....can't!" she said, now audibly giggling.
"You can't? She can't." he said directly to the camera. "She can't get it out because I'm tickling her. "
"No, you're.....not." she hiccupped through giggles.
"I'm not? Well what do you call this?" He held her foot up to the camera for all to see, fingers still pinching around her toes..."You see, America.....little Katy, it appears here, is quite ticklish....right around here." He kept tickling around her toes. "You see that?.....deathly ticklish......and we need to show...the fake news....for what they are. Liars. Right, Katy?".
"Stop...please!" she giggled. He suddenly dragged his finger to the middle of her sole, hit a spot and she hitched forward, the giggles turning to outright laughter. Trump kept a firm grip on her ankle and brought in the rest of his fingers to work the center of her foot.
"Say you're a liar, Katy."
"Oh my god, stop it!"
"Katy.....say you're a liar....Say it! I'm not going to stop!"
"My foot!" she squealed, trying to grab it but falling back into her chair.
"Katy....." He started running the tips of his thumbs up and down the middle of her sole, a perversion of the traditional foot massage motion.....and that's what finally broke her.
"Oh my god, don't do that! Ok, I'm a liar, I'm a liar, just stop! Pleeeeease!" she shrieked before succumbing to hiccups of deep laughter.
At this a staffer rushed in, tugging on the candidate's arm, and murmuring some inaudible advisory. "Oh, please, I'm just having some fun, for chrissake." Trump groused, immediately relinquishing his grip, letting her foot loose. "Are you having fun, Katy?"
Highly embarrassed and panting, she couldn't believe that in the midst of trying to regain her composure, not to mention salvaging the interview, she actually blurted out: "It's ok, no problem....just having a bit of fun, no problem." Later Katy would reflect to herself that she hadn't withdrawn her foot once he let her go; she had let her leg - and her tortured foot - linger on his lap. Now why had she done that? She didn't have an answer.
"See? Katy's having fun. What's the big deal? Now of course they won't show this on TV because they don't want the world to know that one of their supposed ace reporters like Little Katy here is too ticklish to interview me, right?" He sprinkled one last tickle on the center of her still-there foot; she should have known he would.
Campaign staffers flooded the room and the room's energy got frenetic. "You'll have to go now", insisted a severe female, leaning in between Katy and Trump, "please get your things" ... and the staffer hustled her right the hell out of there.
As she was being hurried out, Katy turned around and stole one last look at him, standing around in profile, surrounded by all the would-be-President's men, being fussed over as if he was Michael Corleone. And maybe he was, who knows.
In the car ride back, she could still feel his hands running wildly all over her foot, and she kept slipping out of her shoe, rigorously rubbing the sole he had touched, trying to get the tickles out.
**************
"He knows I'm ticklish."
"What?! How does he know that?"
Her producer Jan had been looking down, reviewing copy as Katy told her about how the interview had gone. Now Jan was looking up at full attention. Katy didn't know what to say.
"He took my shoe off during the interview and started playing with my foot, and I......I couldn't help it, I started to laugh. I don't know.....he pounced on that right away. Now, whenever my questions get too tough, he, um...... uses that."
Jan looked aghast. "What do you mean he uses that?! You let him touch you?"
"I .....it' s like I can't get angry because he's making me laugh ....."
"Can't get angry? Katy, are you out of your mind?!"
"I.......I can't explain." Katy couldn't explain.
"Well, this is all very unprofessional, Katy, I don't even know what to think!"
"I....."
"Ok, don't say anything. Just don't say another word. I have to process what you just told me. This is outrageous."
Jan looked deeply perturbed and Katy thought she might lose her job, her career....everything she'd worked for. After a moment, however, Jan began tapping the end of her pen on the desk absentmindedly as she looked up into the air, as if she was going to pluck something out of it. The tapping got faster and faster and then she started nodding rigorously. Finally she spoke, and with a devilish glint in her eye.
"Maybe we can use this."
***************
"We're so sorry for what happened today....sometimes Mr. Trump gets excited and..."
Katy stared down at the speaker phone in the NBC conference room as the voice on the other end trailed off, leaving nothing but air hiss coming through. Another voice spoke up.
"What we're trying to say, Katy, is that....it was all just a misunderstanding."
Katy looked at her producer, who was sitting next to her.
"You mean it was all a misunderstanding that he picked up my foot and started tickling me?"
The aides started talking over each other.
"Oh no, Katy, that's not what I mean at all, it's just...."
"Mr. Trump likes you, Katy, he really does; I've never seen him take to a reporter like he's taken to you!"
Jan mouthed something, but Katy couldn't decipher it.
"Well, with all due respect to Mr. Trump and the campaign, I don't need him to take to me or even like me. I'm just a journalist, doing my job. And that was a serious breach of professionalism and obviously I'm going to have share this with my audience."
Suddenly the unmistakable voice of Kellyanne Conway's interjected over the speaker.
"Oh no, Katy, no...I don't think there's any need for that. Listen, how about this.....how would you like to have unlimited access to our next President...and instead of just a short fifteen minute interview, we can give you an hour, hmm? Just you and him. An exclusive!"
Katy chuckled. "Ok, so that what, so that he can put his hands on me again?"
"Oh no, Katy, you misunderstand....."
Katy and Jan put their hands over the mouths to stifle any laughter; Jan gave two thumbs up.
"Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you, ok?"
Conway sounded slightly relieved over the phone. "You do that sweetie. Anyway, this whole thing is really no big deal if you think about it. I mean.....you even said yourself, it was no problem, right? Listen....he tickles everybody."
"Oh really? He tickles Steve Bannon?"
"Um, no, not Steve Bannon but......he tickles alot of people. It's just his way."
"He's tickled you?"
"I'm not ticklish, dear."
Katy sighed. "Like I said, Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you."
"You do that. And I'll check his schedule and make sure we can squeeze you in ok?"
They looked down at the speakers as the phone line disconnected.
The usually hard-boiled, all-business Jan looked wide-eyed and elated. "We got him! We got the scoop!!!! Do you think you can do this?"
Underneath the table, Katy popped one heel out of her shoe. "I think so."
***********************
"Katy. I've been thinking about you."
There was no mistaking the voice of who was now the Republican candidate for President.
She thought for a second before answering. "I've been thinking about you too."
"I know" he answered and she had to roll her eyes before starting her pitch.
"I would like to interview you again. Give you a chance to get your side of the story out. No gotcha questions."
Trump laughed. "No gotcha questions, huh? Well, if there are gotcha questions, I'm gonna "gotcha" you, you know what I mean, Katy? Know what I mean."
Not taking the bait, she assured him there would be no gotcha questions. After he agreed she perked up "Good! I'm looking forward to it!"
"I'll have Reince contact you. You remember Reince, don't you Katy?"
She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head.
"Listen" he continued, " my people tell me I have to swing by NBC soon, to tidy up some old Apprentice business. We'll do the interview there, I know how you liberals hate to leave New York." Katy laughed.
"Actually I'm based in DC, but whatever; I will meet you where ever you tell me"
"I know you will, Katy. I know you will." the candidate replied.
*********************
True to his word, Trump showed up at the appointed time and Katy conducted a mildly combative - but comparatively tame - interview with him for a full hour. MSNBC ran the entire conversation live.
After the interview, she borrowed someone's desk to check her email and Twitter account; she wanted to publicly thank him for giving her so much time. She didn't realize it consciously but as she typed she must have popped her foot out of her shoe, something she did routinely, but the result being that her sole would be exposed to anyone who came from behind. Wouldn't this be her luck but none other than the Donald himself happened to round the corner. Spying the pretty reporter from behind, one foot out of her shoe and oblivious to his approach, he reached down under her chair and scooped up three fingertips, dancing them on the middle of her exposed sole. She gasped.
"Gotcha again, heh heh."
Katy looked up to see his big orange mug leering down at her.
"Oh my god, you scared me."
"Still ticklish, huh? You liberals are so sensitive!"
"Ha ha, very funny."
"I think the interview went very well, don't you?"
"Yeah, I think it did too! See what a good journalist can bring out of you?" she smiled.
Before he could answer, a production assistant popped in and informed Katy that she was wanted on set right away. "The panel is discussing your interview, and they want to get your impressions."
"I'll be right there." She slipped her shoe back on and stood up but Trump grabbed her arm.
"Wait a second, wait a second....don't go...."
Katy looked down at his gentle grip on her arm. "I have to go, I'm needed on set." But the candidate wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Listen, I want to see you again. I really liked our chemistry and I'd like to get to know you better. You know many people want to see me, this could turn out very well for you."
"Let go of my arm, I'm needed on set, we'll talk about this another time."
"Give me your phone number. Please. I don't take no for an answer!"
"Donald, seriously, this is not professional."
He kept his grip on her arm but arched his fingers and started moving them slightly, working his way up her arm. The further up he went, the more she realized his aim was probably her armpit, and she was getting more ticklish with each inch.
"Ok, ok, look, here's my number, I have to go." She fished out a business card out of her bag and handed it to him. He held the card with both hands, looking at it proudly as if it was a Willy Wonka golden ticket. She felt oddly touched by his unabashed joy at scoring her phone number.
"I have to go now" and she was off. She rushed through makeup for a quick touch up and made it to the panel before the end of the next commercial break.
"We're joined now by Katy herself who conducted the interview. So Katy, I see the Donald was prowling around the studio after your interview!
"Yes, he was. In fact, he actually tickled me just now."
"What?"
Nodding and smiling to the rest of the panel, wide eyed and oblivious to their reactions she continued. "Yeah, he came up and tickled me...."
The panel looked uncomfortable.
" It was so weird.....I was sitting on the break, and he must have seen me from behind. And I had my ...my foot out of my shoe....you know what I mean? I had absentmindedly slipped out of my shoe. And he must have seen my foot and so he bent down and....tickled it." Katy started to blush.
"Oh my god, what did you do?"
"I almost jumped out of my seat!".
Flustered and flabbergasted, with a producer shouting into her earpiece to change the subject, the host said "Ok, moving on.....today in Brussels......"
*************************
"Tickled By Trump!" blared the headlines the next day, and for a short eternity Katy thought she was about to be thrust into the spotlight of a never-ending public scandal. But the headlines were quickly replaced by ones about Trumps latest tweetstorm. And then that story was replaced by something Trump said disparagingly about the 92-year old actress Betty White, and within a day or two, the "Tickled By Trump" scandal faded fast from the public discourse.
It didn't stop him from bringing it up at rallies, however, and it led to some truly frightening scenes for her.
"Kaaaaaaaty!"
The Republican candidate was at the podium onstage, bellowing her name. The crowd was going crazy.
"Something's happening here, Katy, something magical!"
The crowd whooped and cheered. A "Maga-moron" (as she privately called them) turned and shouted towards the press cage: "Yeah, something magical! You hear that?"
Trump continued. "Of course, something happens with Katy too. I think some of you know what I'm talking about. When you touch her. See, she doesn't want you people to know that but the truth is that Little Katy back there, Little Tough Katy from the Fake News is extremely, extremely ticklish. Unbelievably ticklish. What do you think of that?"
Katy's stomach dropped as the crowd whooped and cheered louder than they had throughout the entire rally, the biggest response yet. And the crowd would not stop cheering. Trump rode the wave and shouted over them: "She's ticklish! Go figure! She can't take being touched! What is that?"
Katy looked around and to her mortification all eyes were on her. People were shouting out things she couldn't make out; others were pointing at her, mockingly. Trump continued his tirade.
"All I did was tickle her a little bit and the fake news has a fit, can you believe that? Tickling! Unbelievable. What has the world come to?"
The rabble whooped and hollered and they were getting more and more unruly. This didn't stop Trump.
"I tickled her! Big deal! So sue me! "
Katy wanted to crawl under a rock, and there were no signs that he was going to stop. If anything, the reaction of the mob spurred him to even more outrageous comments.
"You go up to a beautiful woman and say coochy coochy, next thing you know you're in trouble, it's ridiculous!"
All of a sudden, out of the cheering came a chant, a high pitched chant, distant at first, but gaining in intensity until the entire crowd taunting her by chanting "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!" all in shrill high falsetto so that they sounded like mad birds. "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!"
"And there she is!" Trump bellowed, pointing to the press cage.
Everywhere she turned, people in red MAGA hats were closing in, getting nearer and nearer, their hands held up like claws, wiggling their fingers at her, miming tickling motions. They seemed half-crazed and as she scanned the faces she saw men with mustaches, young guys with crew cuts, soccer moms, elderly people, eyes wide and crazed, all seemingly threatening to tickle her to death.
"Kaaaaaaty!" Trump was bellowing again. "Kaaaaaaty! They're coming to get you, Katy!"
"They're going to breach the press cage!" someone yelled.
"Let's get outta here!" shouted her cameraman, and they made a hasty retreat to the NBC van, with the male reporters forming a human shield around her. It didn't stop the crowd trying to get at her, some of them leaping and lunging in, fingers wiggling, but to no avail. "You're getting tickled, honey. Let me at her!" she heard one elderly voice say, a female one at that. "Ticklish liberal!" shouted one gruff male voice periodically, as if punctuating the ongoing "coochy coochy" refrain. Finally the crew guys cleared a space and she could see the open door. "Get in!" her colleague shouted.
Once inside the van, Katy's heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to jump out of her body. No one had managed to lay a finger on her.....yet her entire body felt electric and on edge, hyper aware of itself. When she analyzed it later, she realized it was a body preparing itself to be touched.
"Are you ok?" somebody asked and she nodded silently. She was shell shocked. "Driver, floor it!" she heard another voice say, and the vehicle roared into action and was quickly safely on the road, further and further away from the danger.
As she sat in the back, she struggled with two sets of conflicting emotions: at first there was anger at how she was made into a prop for his rally. She had fear for her safety and relief that she had made it out unscathed. But as her mind came back to Earth, she began to recognize a primal feeling within her, one that she was trying to suppress. She realized it was curiosity.....what would it have felt like? Would she have laughed? She could still feel the lust of the crowd; all these people wanted to touch her, to tickle her. She knew that it had little to do with the fact that she was supposedly a "liberal" or part of "the media".....it had to do with the fact that she was pretty. She felt coveted and desirable. And she hated herself for what she had to acknowledge: at a safe distance, the whole idea of it turned her on; not the reality, but the idea of it.
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She might have had mixed feelings privately, but to Trump she was unambiguous.
"Donald, how could you?!!! You want to answer that for me please?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. He'd called to check up on her, but had sheepishly danced around the elephant in the room.
"Donald, that was very scary for me! That was very irresponsible! Somebody could have gotten killed! Is that what you want? Do you want somebody killed?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." He sounded contrite.
Katy was livid, but felt she had given him an earful for the past fifteen minutes. Wrapping it up, she struck a conciliatory tone; after all, he was not a friend, he was the subject of her reporting.
"Listen....I know you're new to all this, you're new to politics, and that you want to do the right thing. But you have to be careful in what you say, and how you say it. Especially in the polarized political climate we're living through. Ok? I'm not mad, it was just scary and please, don't single me out, don't bring any extra attention to me than you already have. Ok?"
Trump was silent on the other line and for a moment she thought he might have hung up. "Donald? You still there?"
"I want to give you full access, Katy."
Katy laughed.
"Yeah, what, so that you can tickle my feet some more? Thanks, Donald, I've already got access, I'm assigned to your campaign, remember? Your followers scare me. I don't know if I can take more access. I'm all for covering Trumpworld but, you know...maybe that's a world one needs a little distance from, you know what I mean?"
Trump sighed. "I know what you mean, they get carried away...."
"Yeah, well you push their buttons."
"Well...that's what I do, I'm a button pusher, you know that. I push your buttons, I push their buttons....I get people riled up, I make them laugh, I make them squirm in their seat.....it's good! It's good for business. Anyway, its all going to be over soon, Katy, I promise. What's important is that you and me, we don't let stuff like this get in the way."
"Get in the way of what?"
Trump sighed wearily.
"Katy....I'm offering you full access. All the access you want. What else can I do? You can come and go as you please, you can do whatever it is you do, write a book, blab on TV, I don't care. Now maybe I'm crazy but that sounds like a pretty good deal to me."
"No more talking about me at rallies?"
"No more talking about you at rallies, that's fair."
"And no more tickling me. "
"Oh stop it, I'm not going to promise that. I already said I won't talk about you, and I won't. Now you want to set all these other conditions, what I can say, what I can do, no this, no that, no touching, no tickling. I'm a sensual person, Katy, you'll find that out. Besides, if you're honest with yourself, I think you kind of like it. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself. Full access, take it or leave it. Now what's it going to be?"
Katy was taken aback, but she was no dummy; she mulled it over for a few quick seconds and then flatly answered: "Full access."
Trump sounded relieved. "I'm very happy to her you say that, Katy. Very happy. I'll have my people handle all the necessary arrangements."
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"I've got full access to him. I can come and go anytime I want, as long as I want, ask any question, he's given me carte blanc. The only stipulation is no cameras."
Jan was thunderstruck.
"Are you kidding me? Full access? Do you know what this means? You can write the definitive book on the campaign! Maybe even the Presidency!"
Katy burst out laughing. "The Presidency? Him? Yeah, right!"
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They met a couple of times a week, and the sessions got flirtier and flirtier. She resisted at first but as time went on, she just went with it, especially the more apparent it became that he had no chance of winning the election. Guys had been tickling her throughout her whole life, she didn't know what it was all about but what was one more guy?
Still, it could throw her off when she was trying to be serious. If he got bored with the interview or didn't like a question, he'd invariably start back up with his old routine, removing her shoe and doing a kind of version of "this little piggy", tugging at her digits.
For instance, as soon as she started asking him about his relationship with Vladmir Putin, he threw his hands up, announced "Suit yourself, Katy!" grabbed her ankle and removed her shoe, placing her foot in his lap. "Ok, what's the question?"
"Ok, very funny, now put down my foot."
"Ask the question!"
She sighed. She knew what was coming but pressed on. "You're very friendly with Putin and..... "
He pinched her toe; she squealed and lurched forward, giggling. Smiling, and trying to manage her ticklishness, she tried to continue.
"You mean you're not?"
He started kneading the pads of her toes with his thumb and forefinger.
"Donald!" she shrieked, laughing, "Stop it! I'm just asking about the....."
His fingers started pinching in between her toes and she instantly melted. "Oh please, stop! Ok! Ok! You got me!" she squealed, hyperventilating with girlish laughter. "Next question! Next question!"
The Donald grinned and sat back, he had won. He kept a gentle grasp of her ankle, however, and gave her foot a firm squeeze, which felt warm and comforting. Katy smiled, caught her breath, and continued.
"Do you think that.......eek!....let me ask the question!"
**************************************************
She admitted she found him cute in old photos. "You were so handsome!"
Puffing out his chest and jutting out his chin without a shred of self-awareness, he proudly proclaimed "I still am!"
Scanning the bloated blotchy septuagenarian, she raised her eyebrows and mustered as much sincerity as she could manufacture: "Of course you are"
"You know Katy, I'm not usually attracted to American women. But you're different."
"Well that makes me feel special, Donald." she said flatly. "Don't you think your supporters resent you didn't take an American for a wife?"
"Katy, these people are so frightened of the Spanish language, I can say and do anything as long as they think I'm going to build a big cement wall on the border." He winked at her...then snickered like Renfield.
**************************************************
The Access Hollywood tape came out and Katy was revolted. Is this how Trump talked about her behind closed doors? Katy sensed this was to be the final nail in the coffin for his campaign and when he called to invite her to see his New Jersey golf course, she declined. Thinking no one would be too interested in all her reporting after Hillary became the first woman President, she enjoyed just going through the motions, showing up at rallies and being a talking head on cable news panels, giving her two cents. Election Day '16, and with it the country's first woman President, was coming like a speeding locomotive; it would all be over soon.
But things turned out very different.
**************************************************
She hadn't seen him since the election. When she walked into his suite, the mood was frenetic and happy.
"Katy! I told you I'd win!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know" she nodded, admitting the new reality.
"Even you voted for me, didn't you! Hillary didn't have Little Katy to save her." he mocked.
Katy laughed along. "No, Donald, I did not vote for you, I...."
"You didn't vote for me? Oh that does it..." He reached forward with both hands and started touching her midsection.
"Donald, don't!" she warned, smiling. She tried to back away but she was in a corner.
"Why didn't you vote for me?"
"Because!" she giggled.
"Because what?" he demanded, his fingers motoring away over her blouse, grazing her ticklish belly.
"Stoooop!", she laughed, trying to slap his hands away but barely tapping, weakened as she was by the warm, giddy sensation tickling across her stomach.
"You look beautiful when you get tickled, did you know that?"
Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, I didn't know that. Oh my god, you have to stop!"
"Not until you say I'm going to be the greatest President ever." He started pinching at her sides. Her voice jumped two octaves as her laughter intensified.
"Donald, please!" she squealed.
"Say I'm going to be the greatest President ever!"
"All right, all right, you're going to be the greatest President ever! Just stop, pleeeease!" she begged.
"Ok, ok. I'll give you a break." He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a chair. She sat down and caught her breath while he took a seat opposite her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, and for a moment, he just looked at her, pretty and in peace. Arrows of pleasure were shooting through her body; he'd never tickled her upperbody before; with her eyes closed she savored each deep calm breath she was now able to take, and she let herself feel serene.
"You exhaust me, Donald." she sighed, smiling, her eyes still closed.
"What can I say, I know how to get you."
"I guess I should congratulate you on your win."
"Well...aren't you?"
She fluttered open her eyes and met his. They looked at each other for a long electric moment.
"Congratulations, Donald. Mr. President" she said softly. He nodded gently.
"So what are you going to do now that you've won? I see you're on top of this crowd size business."
Trump furrowed his brow. "I suppose you think that's a small thing?"
"It was a small thing! Why are you wasting your energy on the crowd size at your inauguration?"
"Oh let's not talk about that. Why talk about that when we could talk about you? You know you looked very beautiful just now, Katy, I love seeing you all giggly like that."
"Oh really?" she replied incredulously.
"That's right. Getting to see you laugh like that.....it's a beautiful thing."
"Hmmm. I thought you liked 'liberal tears'."
"I like liberal laughter better." he said, leaning over and starting to play with her thighs.
"No, Donald, not again", she panicked before jerking forward as he squeezed her leg, and liberal laughter is exactly what he got.
"See you hate me....but you have to laugh."
"I don't.....hate you!" she sputtered before the laughing overtook her.
"Yeah you do." he said calmly as she went crazy in her seat, trying to get his hands off her.
"No I don't, please, I promise! I promise!!!" she shrieked, but the President wouldn't stop.
"Prove it, Katy."
It took a moment for her to finish her jag of laughing before she could get enough breath to respond. "Ok! Ok! You got me!"
"I said prove you don't hate me, Katy. I know I got you!"
Another long jag of laughing. "Ok, ok, how? How do I prove it to you?" she giggle-whimpered, like a new puppy.
"Give us a kiss, Katy." He stepped up the squeezing which really drove her up the wall with a full unbridled laugh that conveyed he'd hit a sweet spot.
"Ok! Ok! Just stop!"
He squeezed some more. "You won't renege on me will you?"
"I promise, I promise!" she screamed with urgency. "I'll kiss you! I'll kiss you! Just stoooop!" she buckled over and after a few more seconds, he relented.
She straightened up, huffing and puffing, and feeling very skittish just sitting next to him, feebly holding her hands up in defense, her body twisted as far away from him as she could get, trembling in anticipation of another attack. "Ok, ok, let me just catch my breath." she panted. She couldn't believe he'd just tickled her so much. But now that he'd stopped, she felt high on endorphins, her whole body felt alive and electric. she felt wanted and desired.....she felt extremely sexy.
She surprised him and even herself when, after recovering her composure, she took a deep breath, leaned forward and close to his mouth said in her sultriest voice: "You like liberal laughter, huh? How about a liberal kiss...." and pressed her lips against his.
He was at first taken aback, but she could feel him smile and then he kissed back passionately, taking her in his arms. As she kissed him she felt giddy inside as the same words kept racing through her mind, excitedly: "He was just tickling me; he was just tickling me! I'm kissing my tickler! I'm kissing my tickler!"
As if reading her mind, he began to pet her body, and as his hand lightly grazed her side, she giggled coquettishly through the kiss.
"Careful." she cooed, "You know I'm ticklish." She winked at him seductively. Then she kissed him again.
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Of course, Katy kept all this from Jan.
"Have you gotten any closer to finding out about this Russia thing? Is he really going to build the wall? And what the hell is he so worried about crowd size for? What does he do all day?"
"I....I don't know yet." Katy didn't know yet.
"Don't know yet? Don't know yet? Katy, what have you been doing in there?"
Katy knew she was in the hot seat. "It's very complicated, he's very hard to crack."
Jan got right to the point. "Is he tickling you again?"
Katy looked away from Jan. "No, he's not."
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Shy in her pink slip, Katy had an instinct this time that she was going to get it. After all the months of build-up she knew he now had what he had been chasing, what he wanted: her. Tonight there would be no aides, no handlers, and he'd have her all to himself. He had asked her to stay over, and to wear the sexiest bedwear she had. As she stepped into his bedroom, she looked around and didn't see him. "Donald?" she called out.
All of a sudden, he came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, going for the sneak attack. She immediately tried to buckle forward and shrieked with laughter. As she tried to contain the unrelenting tickles of his ten independent fingers probing her midsection, her hands resting on top of his, unable to stop him, he cooed into her ear "I've been waiting to do this a long time, Katy....a long time." As she struggled and writhed (to no avail) he let his nose trail her long neck and drink in the scent of her perfume.
"Poor Katy.....poor ticklish Katy....." she was now in a deep, deep laughing jag, eyes squeezed shut, practically limp, the fight out of her, held up by the tickling hands probing her stomach.
Finally she shrieked: "Get your stubby little hands off of me!" That was clearly the wrong thing to say.
"Stubby? Stubby? Oh, that's it, you're in trouble now."
He sunk his fingers into the creases of her armpits and tickled. He quickly worked his way in until she was practically being held up by his tickling fingers.
"Are they still stubby?"
She was hysterical. "No they're not stubby, they're not stubby! They're regular hands, they're regular hands!"
He dug in even deeper and tickled faster. "No, they're not regular hands, they're BIG hands, do you understand? Big hands. BIG!"
Katy was in silent laughter, her eyes squeezed tight, she just shook her head as in slow motion, and kept mouthing the word "no no, no". After a short eternity of this, she suddenly shrieked "Oh my god, stop!"
"Big hands Katy! C'mon now, you know what to say!"
"Big hands" she gasped, no sound coming out. "You got big hands."
"Louder!"
Katy tried again, then tried harder. Finally she screamed out in full laughter....."You've got big hands! You've got big hands, Donald!"
"That's right. Big, bigly, tickly hands. And I got the itchy fingers for you, Katy. So look out!"
"I will! I will! Oh my god, someone please help!"
"Raaaaaah!" the President roared like a monster, leaned back and lifted Katy off the floor. Completely conquered, she kicked her legs into the air as if that would somehow get her away from his hands. He pivoted his body and deposited the ticklish journalist on his bed where, exhausted, she caught her breath.
"Whew...that may be the most I've ever been tickled, Donald. That's a workout!"
Panting from his own physical exertion, he replied: "It was a workout for me, too." She looked up at him and saw that he was beet red and sweaty.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah...let me go take a Lipitor", he said, walking into the bathroom. "It's not easy tickle torturing you! Good times!"
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Later that night, at the President's request, Katy went under the sheets. So this was it, she thought, it didn't get more intimate than this. As she journeyed down, she didn't know what to expect.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he called down to her.
At first the view was just a mound of gut.....literally a horizon of fat. She craned her neck to look under the hanging belly, and her eyebrows furrowed. All she saw was the sheet underneath. Looking up at him unsure, he gave a solemn nod.
She gently put both hands under the crease of the fat and gently lifted. Her eyes darted around, frantically.
"Katy? I said isn't it beautiful?"
All of a sudden she saw it, in the shadow of the undergut. The first analogous image that came to her mind was a mushroom. The next was a balloon knot.
"I......"
"Lots of women, lots of very fine women, they love me for it, you know."
"Er.....yes, Donald."
"Leave it alone for the moment, we'll come back to that later. I just wanted you to get a sneak peek, I know how important that is to women."
Stunned and reeling, she couldn't muster up a reply to that one. She settled for a distant "uh-huh". She almost felt sorry for him and thought about the old wives' tale: small hands, small penis. Those old wives were sure on to something, she thought. She came back up and he kissed her on the forehead.
"What I want to do now is please you. Would you like that?"
Katy was shocked. For some reason, she had figured it was to be all about his pleasure, not hers. Before she could answer, the bed frame began squeaking and rocking as the Commander-in-Chief - currently an undressed tub-of-lard, if she wanted to be honest - struggled to turn over. Now she was on her back, the President looming over her.
"Katy....I'm on top of you now."
"Yes, Donald, I know."
The President leaned down and started kissing her neck passionately. She could feel his tongue swirling around her neck which made her nose wrinkle and she stifled the urge to laugh. Her breathing got deeper and deeper as he started moving down her body. He started to kiss her chest and suckle her nipples. She couldn't believe this was really happening.
The President played with her boobies for a while but then slowly started to kiss down towards her stomach. The kissing started to tickle the further down he went but she didn't want him to know. Unfortunately she couldn’t hide it very well and her breathing - and her squirms - must have betrayed something because he started to go slower and even slower and more deliberate on each part, as if looking for a hint, a gasp, a flinch, a quiver, inch by inch, lips, breath, tongue swirls, making it more excruciating, making sure every inch teased and tickled her to the maximum. She kept letting out quiet little gasps, her breathing shallow, her hands reacting involuntarily, touching his head, she was being driven up the wall. He definitely knew what he was doing to her, even though she was praying he didn’t. Don't laugh, she kept telling herself, and he won’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know. Don't laugh, just don't laugh. Oh my god, that tickles so much.....
Then he stopped! He came to a complete standstill and just hovered contemplatively, lingering his lips around her belly button. She could feel his breath spilling over her stomach and all she could do was hold hers when he did it, it was maddening. She wasn’t sure what was coming and was just trying not to lose it. He would hold his breath, and so she'd hold hers in anticipation. When he finally let his breath spill out, her exhale would be shaky, and full of little gasps. This went on and on, slower and slower, longer and longer, it seemed like an eternity, he would just inhale –hold it….and she'd wait for him to exhale. Then he would, slowly, wisps of breath running all over her smooth stomach and she’d quiver, both her body and her breath.
And then….there was a long point of nothing, not even hot breath, he just hovered there, she almost thought he had fallen asleep… Did he not like her anymore?......Was he a slumbering lion...... was he a lion in wait?
She found out because finally - suddenly - he took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, plunged his head down, burying his face in her belly….and blew. A giant exploding buzzing raspberry all over her stomach, something she was not expecting, he had never done that before. Katy absolutely screamed with absolute laughter, her eyes squeezed shut as if concentrating on the spot would make it any more bearable. (It didn't). The sensation was explosive and electric, his lips buzzing and tickling, blowing and violently shaking his head into her stomach. She was caught, totally trapped and frantic, her hands grasping the sides of his head while she tried to get him to stop blowing. Unfortunately for Katy, he had her good and she couldn’t get away, all she could do was surrender, her hands weaving all around his head, his lips vibrating all over her navel....and Trump just blew and blew and blew. After a minute, he reached up, pinned her wrists to the bed and started nibbling on her sides. She went hysterical.
Finally he did stop and the laughter was dying away as he looked up at her with a devilish, mischievous look, completely proud at what he'd just done.... and then he plunged his head down below her waist, suckling her clitoris and making her feel floods of ecstasy. Her, the one he had just tickled half to death! It was her present, she told herself. It was her present for getting tickled, as if tickling her had made him want her even more. The tickly vibrations were still all over her tummy and shooting through her body as his tongue swirled around, and she came faster than she ever had in her life. As he came back up, she kissed him, and had to admit: "Well played, Mr. President."
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Wrapped in a sheet, Katy reclined against the headboard, her long bare leg jutting out from under the covers. It was morning, and Trump was already half dressed, standing at the end of the bed. As he talked on the phone, bossing someone around, he reached down and tickled her foot, causing her to gasp as she snatched it back from his fingers. He grinned satisfied.
"Yeah yeah yeah....just do it!" he barked impatiently into the phone and abruptly hung up. Turning his attention to his paramour, he sighed. "So....what should we do today?"
Katy laughed. "What should we do today? You're the President! Don't you have work to do?"
Trump started shaking his head as he buttoned up his shirt. "Nah, nah.....'executive time', sweetheart.....I can do whatever I want."
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Unfortunately sharing a bed with the President was no bed of roses. Literally. He spent his sleeping hours farting the night away, the only thing that could interrupt his howling death-wheeze-of-a-snore. Once she was so repulsed from his nighttime habits that she slipped out of the bed. She was at the window when she heard him call out in his sleep, "Katy...Katy where are you?"
She looked back at his moonlit silhouette......he looked like a beached whale in boxer shorts. The snores subsided and he looked peaceful. For a moment she had empathy for this man and the unimaginable weight of the world he carried on his shoulders. The responsibility to lead and care for millions. For billions. All under the microscope of critics who are just waiting for you to fail. Was she one of those critics? She felt guilty. Everyone deserves love, she thought to herself.
All of a sudden a squealing wet fart twisted out of the President's asscheeks and a satisfied smile broke out on his face. "Take that, America." he chuckled to himself, rolling over....
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Sometimes the President could be reflective. During one of the interviews, one in which he was showing her around one of his hotels, she decided to broach some touchy subjects, ones that people were starting to whisper about around Washington. Instead of denying everything, Katy was surprised at what he chose to remember about them.
"Ok, let me just throw some names at you. Stormy Daniels."
"Not ticklish."
"Karen McDougal."
"Extremely ticklish!"
Katy felt a tinge of jealousy. "What about.....me?"
Trump smiled.
"You? You deserve to be ticklish and you are. There's justice in how ticklish you are. What goes around comes around, Fake News." He gave her a friendly poke to the side.
Seeing that he was in an open mood about this particular subject, she decided to delve further.
"Ok, so tell me.....what is this whole tickling thing about anyway? What's the fascination?"
"Well......you know, Katy, I used to be into women's breasts, that was very big back in the day. Very big. But when you've seen one pair, you've seen 'em all. And believe me...I've seen 'em all. No, I discovered what was sexy about tickling pretty girls such as Karen and yourself through listening to my friend Howard Stern. His radio show. Do you know Howard? Oh he'd be very impressed with you. Very impressed. Let me call him and arrange a......"
"No, that's ok, I.."
"I could get him to...."
"No, Donald, really, I....."
"BABABOOEY!" he suddenly thundered gleefully. "BABABOOEY! FA-FA-FLUNKY! TA-TA-TOOTHY!"
Katy stood there frozen, not knowing exactly what to do.
"Ma-ma-monkey! Oh, I love that show. You know, I wanted to appoint him to the Supreme Court but they wouldn't let me."
The President marched out the room abruptly, shouting out once more: "Bababooey!" then laughing to himself, shaking his head. "That Howard!" An aide suddenly rushed up to her. "The President was just joking, he never considered such an appointment, this conversation never happened. You're going to have to leave now."
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Sometimes he could almost seem romantic. Almost. One night, he invited her over to the White House and when she got to his room, she saw it was to be a dinner for two. As they sat at the candlelit table, she felt like a princess. For a long while they just looked at each other, smiling and eating very slowly. Finally he broke the silence.
"Do you like music, Katy? Would you like to hear my favorite song?"
Touched at his sincerity she gazed into his eyes, gently nodding with a flirty "mmm-hmm".
The President got up from his chair, walked to the shelf unit and searched through a pile of compact discs, all out of their cases. Suddenly - and surprisingly - it was Spanish dance music that came blaring out of the speakers, a recording that featured what sounded like a small chorus of middle-aged men and a high pitched female voice. It took Katy a minute to place the song.
"Is this......"
"That's right, Katy! It's the Macarena! Isn't it great?"
Caught up in the moment, the President began dancing and Katy sat there, dumbstruck at the sight. The only way she could think to describe it was something akin to the Snoopy dance crossed with Michael Madsen's boogie during the torture scene in "Reservoir Dogs". At one point he started waving his arms to the side, as if he were a hula girl. A moment later had him holding up his two pointer fingers and shaking them like maracas.
"Oh, I love this song!"
Slightly disappointed, the mood broken, Katy shouted over the din: "I thought you were going to play something a little more romantic!"
"This IS romantic!" Trump continued with his dance and shut his eyes with a peaceful grin on his face. After the song faded out, his eyes fluttered open as if awakening from a dream and he shook his head, while sitting down at the table. "They sure don't make 'em like that anymore."
Amused, Katy slipped one foot out of her shoe and poked his shin with her toe. "I would have thought you'd play something more from your generation. The Beatles, some Motown, maybe Frank Sinatra." The President shook his head, dismissively.
"Nope. I like to listen to what the young people like."
"Well.....I don't really think young people listen to the Macarena, Donald."
"No, they do."
Katy laughed; she knew she wasn't going to win this argument.
"What about the fact that it's a Spanish song? I thought you didn't like Spanish people."
"That song is in English."
Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, that's the English version of a Spanish song!"
"Oh, so you want to laugh at me huh? I'll give you something to laugh at!", he declared, reaching under the table for her ankles which kept eluding his grasp.
"Not when I'm eating." she said, laughing at his fumbling.
"That song is in English."
"Ok, Donald, that song is in English." she rolled her eyes.
"Very good", the President grinned, picking up his cutlery. "I love an easy win."
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Other food encounters were less charming.
"Mmmrmph. Mmmmrph. MMMM!" The President was sprawled out on his bed, wolfing down a McDonalds value meal, smacking his lips, with a ketchup puddle right about his chin.
"You....you have ketchup on your face."
"Where, here?" He started touching his face, missing the spot every time.
"No, on your chin."
"Here?"
"No, your chin. Your chin, Donald."
"Here?" he pointed to his lower cheek.
She sighed, exasperated. "Here, I'll do it." She leaned over and dabbed the ketchup. Seeing him with food all over his mouth, his dirty, greasy napkin sloppily tucked over his shirt collar, he looked like an overgrown baby eating it's first birthday cake.
"I'm telling you, Katy, sometimes I just get a Big Mac Infection."
She did a double-take. "A Big Mac Infection? I think they actually call it a Big Mac Atta...."
"Katy, don't start....please.....I have this argument all the time with people, it's called a Big Mac Infection, all right?"
Katy started to laugh. "Donald......it's called a Big Mac Attack. See? It even rhymes, get it?"
"THEY CALL IT A BIG MAC INFECTION!" he bellowed. " A FUCKING BIG MAC INFECTION! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? KELLY! MATTIS! GET IN HERE!"
All of a sudden the Department of Defense and the Chief of Staff came scurrying in like dutiful minions, their heads down as if this was the royal court of Henry VIII.
"Get her out of here so I can eat in peace."
As they hurried her out without so much as a goodbye, she looked back. Trump was chewing on his meat sandwich with a contemplative scowl. "They call it a Big Mac Infection..." he muttered to himself, annoyed. Grimacing, he leaned over to one side to open up a cheek, and squeezed out a buzzy, tortured fart. After the gas was all out, he continued chewing what was in his mouth.
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For Part Two click here
PREFACE
I wrote most of this in early 2017, and just dusted it off and finished it now. It was mostly a bunch of unrelated scenes and I just stuck 'em together, so don't mind any plot holes or loose ends. I've never written a fiction story, this is my first one. It came about because I had seen a clip from this interview with Katy Tur and Donald Trump (it's within the video below, you probably remember it, she's stammering and he's barking at her a bit)....and in my warped mind, it felt as if it could have turned into tickle taunting her.
THEN.....I happened to see THIS clip that somebody made and put up.
That cracked me up and I couldn't get away from it: these two had a little chemistry! A little amorous tension! It's so cute! As if they had little crushes on each other! (I'm not saying they actually did, I'm saying it looks like it, in these particular moments). And so I thought: let's get these two kids together!
(I also came across this hot heel-pop clip, that inspired an early part of the story.)
So began this tale that grew way longer than I had anticipated, mostly as a result of trying to connect all the different unrelated scenes together into a semi-coherent narrative. There's also a couple of homages in there, one pretty obscure and one not obscure.
I laughed my way through writing this, it was so much fun, this is as much a comedy piece as it is for our "thing". It's also very much a love story! I hope you not only find it to your liking as a partialist to tickling...but that you also have some good laughs....in fact maybe you'll even find it cathartic! I think both "sides" get burned, although I admit it's hard to make Trump into a romantic hero. You'll see what I mean, I think it works better this way. Anyways, not to be taken seriously! I've never really seen Katy Tur's work (she's on during the day, when I'm working) and what little I've seen of it, I'm not sure she's particularly like the person depicted in the story so ...it could just be a fictitious journalist named Katy, if that works for you. (the real Katy Tur got married shortly after the election, so it most definitely is a work of fiction!)
It's all to be taken as a goof. I'm not a Trump supporter, nor a fan of Tur. I pretty much steered clear of most of the controversial elements of the last few years. Recently someone here wrote a story here in which the writer's fantasy was to have a liberal girl's teeth removed so that she became a fellatio machine - and there was hardly a peep of protest about it - so I don't see how anyone here could have any quibbles with this much more benign piece of fiction.)
And so without any further ado, here's the story, a little something I like to call:
Katy & The Donald (Or How Katy Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Getting Tickled)
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"Oh please, Donald, don't!"
The President had his hands wrapped around Katy's waist like a belt, and he was tickling her. Again.
Ever since she had started meeting with him in private, hustled into hotel rooms, private estates and sometimes even to the White House itself, he had taken to disarming her with tickles soon after she'd arrive, often during her always-rehearsed speech that she had to stop meeting him like this, that she was there to interview him, that she was a professional. The ticklings had gone from flirty to frisky, and she found herself feeling skittish and defensive even hours after the ticklings.
Her protestations aside, by this point she was starting to surrender to the reality: she was going to be the President's media mistress. All intellectual reservations melted away when she was hit with the reality that this...thing, this great orange beast, this force of nature - was the most powerful man in the world, regardless of how he got there. And he always did it his way. Try as she might to resist, it - he - caused her to feel a mixture of conflicting feelings.
Case in point: she felt giddy when she was in his presence. There was something about him that would make her feel like a college girl flirting with her Daddy's obnoxious business partner, a kind of man of whom she'd have had nothing but ambivalence, even contempt....but now was suddenly attractive, a charming man with power, occupying the highest office in the land. He wasn't just a man, he was now "the" man...albeit one with a curious finger who somehow knew her body intuitively and kept her physically on the defensive. His playing around kept her feeling feminine, kept her feeling light and happy and giggly, pretty and desirable. As much as she tried to detest him and all he stood for, one finger was all it took to turn her into a giggling mess, promising anything, anything to make his tickling stop.
His habit of doing this had actually started during one of their most infamous public exchanges, though it was initially edited out for broadcast.
The interview had been wearing her down. He was just so nasty! Why did he have to be so nasty? He had been so sweet and gentlemanly moments earlier...but now that the camera was rolling, he was being combative, aggressive, dismissive....and she started to feel off her game. When he almost bit her head off with a particularly snide put-down, she started to actually get nervous.
"Um....with immigration...you say....." she fumbled with her papers, and Trump immediately barked back.
"Come on, get it out. You don't even know what you're talking about."
As she struggled to get the words out, the billionaire....or was it millionaire?... reached down, grabbed her ankle and slyly removed her shoe. She looked confusingly at him as she continued to stammer. What was he doing?
Pinching her toes, he began to taunt her: "Get it out, c'mon, you can do it."
The feel of him fiddling with her toes tickled and she started to giggle shyly, stirring in her seat at first, then holding her clipboard of questions up to her face, blocking her smiling, giggly mouth, with only her brown eyes, wide and wild, revealed.
The president smiled. "That's it." he sing-songed. "That's it, let it out, Katy."
"Stop it! I....can't!" she said, now audibly giggling.
"You can't? She can't." he said directly to the camera. "She can't get it out because I'm tickling her. "
"No, you're.....not." she hiccupped through giggles.
"I'm not? Well what do you call this?" He held her foot up to the camera for all to see, fingers still pinching around her toes..."You see, America.....little Katy, it appears here, is quite ticklish....right around here." He kept tickling around her toes. "You see that?.....deathly ticklish......and we need to show...the fake news....for what they are. Liars. Right, Katy?".
"Stop...please!" she giggled. He suddenly dragged his finger to the middle of her sole, hit a spot and she hitched forward, the giggles turning to outright laughter. Trump kept a firm grip on her ankle and brought in the rest of his fingers to work the center of her foot.
"Say you're a liar, Katy."
"Oh my god, stop it!"
"Katy.....say you're a liar....Say it! I'm not going to stop!"
"My foot!" she squealed, trying to grab it but falling back into her chair.
"Katy....." He started running the tips of his thumbs up and down the middle of her sole, a perversion of the traditional foot massage motion.....and that's what finally broke her.
"Oh my god, don't do that! Ok, I'm a liar, I'm a liar, just stop! Pleeeeease!" she shrieked before succumbing to hiccups of deep laughter.
At this a staffer rushed in, tugging on the candidate's arm, and murmuring some inaudible advisory. "Oh, please, I'm just having some fun, for chrissake." Trump groused, immediately relinquishing his grip, letting her foot loose. "Are you having fun, Katy?"
Highly embarrassed and panting, she couldn't believe that in the midst of trying to regain her composure, not to mention salvaging the interview, she actually blurted out: "It's ok, no problem....just having a bit of fun, no problem." Later Katy would reflect to herself that she hadn't withdrawn her foot once he let her go; she had let her leg - and her tortured foot - linger on his lap. Now why had she done that? She didn't have an answer.
"See? Katy's having fun. What's the big deal? Now of course they won't show this on TV because they don't want the world to know that one of their supposed ace reporters like Little Katy here is too ticklish to interview me, right?" He sprinkled one last tickle on the center of her still-there foot; she should have known he would.
Campaign staffers flooded the room and the room's energy got frenetic. "You'll have to go now", insisted a severe female, leaning in between Katy and Trump, "please get your things" ... and the staffer hustled her right the hell out of there.
As she was being hurried out, Katy turned around and stole one last look at him, standing around in profile, surrounded by all the would-be-President's men, being fussed over as if he was Michael Corleone. And maybe he was, who knows.
In the car ride back, she could still feel his hands running wildly all over her foot, and she kept slipping out of her shoe, rigorously rubbing the sole he had touched, trying to get the tickles out.
**************
"He knows I'm ticklish."
"What?! How does he know that?"
Her producer Jan had been looking down, reviewing copy as Katy told her about how the interview had gone. Now Jan was looking up at full attention. Katy didn't know what to say.
"He took my shoe off during the interview and started playing with my foot, and I......I couldn't help it, I started to laugh. I don't know.....he pounced on that right away. Now, whenever my questions get too tough, he, um...... uses that."
Jan looked aghast. "What do you mean he uses that?! You let him touch you?"
"I .....it' s like I can't get angry because he's making me laugh ....."
"Can't get angry? Katy, are you out of your mind?!"
"I.......I can't explain." Katy couldn't explain.
"Well, this is all very unprofessional, Katy, I don't even know what to think!"
"I....."
"Ok, don't say anything. Just don't say another word. I have to process what you just told me. This is outrageous."
Jan looked deeply perturbed and Katy thought she might lose her job, her career....everything she'd worked for. After a moment, however, Jan began tapping the end of her pen on the desk absentmindedly as she looked up into the air, as if she was going to pluck something out of it. The tapping got faster and faster and then she started nodding rigorously. Finally she spoke, and with a devilish glint in her eye.
"Maybe we can use this."
***************
"We're so sorry for what happened today....sometimes Mr. Trump gets excited and..."
Katy stared down at the speaker phone in the NBC conference room as the voice on the other end trailed off, leaving nothing but air hiss coming through. Another voice spoke up.
"What we're trying to say, Katy, is that....it was all just a misunderstanding."
Katy looked at her producer, who was sitting next to her.
"You mean it was all a misunderstanding that he picked up my foot and started tickling me?"
The aides started talking over each other.
"Oh no, Katy, that's not what I mean at all, it's just...."
"Mr. Trump likes you, Katy, he really does; I've never seen him take to a reporter like he's taken to you!"
Jan mouthed something, but Katy couldn't decipher it.
"Well, with all due respect to Mr. Trump and the campaign, I don't need him to take to me or even like me. I'm just a journalist, doing my job. And that was a serious breach of professionalism and obviously I'm going to have share this with my audience."
Suddenly the unmistakable voice of Kellyanne Conway's interjected over the speaker.
"Oh no, Katy, no...I don't think there's any need for that. Listen, how about this.....how would you like to have unlimited access to our next President...and instead of just a short fifteen minute interview, we can give you an hour, hmm? Just you and him. An exclusive!"
Katy chuckled. "Ok, so that what, so that he can put his hands on me again?"
"Oh no, Katy, you misunderstand....."
Katy and Jan put their hands over the mouths to stifle any laughter; Jan gave two thumbs up.
"Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you, ok?"
Conway sounded slightly relieved over the phone. "You do that sweetie. Anyway, this whole thing is really no big deal if you think about it. I mean.....you even said yourself, it was no problem, right? Listen....he tickles everybody."
"Oh really? He tickles Steve Bannon?"
"Um, no, not Steve Bannon but......he tickles alot of people. It's just his way."
"He's tickled you?"
"I'm not ticklish, dear."
Katy sighed. "Like I said, Kellyanne, I'll think about it and get back to you."
"You do that. And I'll check his schedule and make sure we can squeeze you in ok?"
They looked down at the speakers as the phone line disconnected.
The usually hard-boiled, all-business Jan looked wide-eyed and elated. "We got him! We got the scoop!!!! Do you think you can do this?"
Underneath the table, Katy popped one heel out of her shoe. "I think so."
***********************
"Katy. I've been thinking about you."
There was no mistaking the voice of who was now the Republican candidate for President.
She thought for a second before answering. "I've been thinking about you too."
"I know" he answered and she had to roll her eyes before starting her pitch.
"I would like to interview you again. Give you a chance to get your side of the story out. No gotcha questions."
Trump laughed. "No gotcha questions, huh? Well, if there are gotcha questions, I'm gonna "gotcha" you, you know what I mean, Katy? Know what I mean."
Not taking the bait, she assured him there would be no gotcha questions. After he agreed she perked up "Good! I'm looking forward to it!"
"I'll have Reince contact you. You remember Reince, don't you Katy?"
She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head.
"Listen" he continued, " my people tell me I have to swing by NBC soon, to tidy up some old Apprentice business. We'll do the interview there, I know how you liberals hate to leave New York." Katy laughed.
"Actually I'm based in DC, but whatever; I will meet you where ever you tell me"
"I know you will, Katy. I know you will." the candidate replied.
*********************
True to his word, Trump showed up at the appointed time and Katy conducted a mildly combative - but comparatively tame - interview with him for a full hour. MSNBC ran the entire conversation live.
After the interview, she borrowed someone's desk to check her email and Twitter account; she wanted to publicly thank him for giving her so much time. She didn't realize it consciously but as she typed she must have popped her foot out of her shoe, something she did routinely, but the result being that her sole would be exposed to anyone who came from behind. Wouldn't this be her luck but none other than the Donald himself happened to round the corner. Spying the pretty reporter from behind, one foot out of her shoe and oblivious to his approach, he reached down under her chair and scooped up three fingertips, dancing them on the middle of her exposed sole. She gasped.
"Gotcha again, heh heh."
Katy looked up to see his big orange mug leering down at her.
"Oh my god, you scared me."
"Still ticklish, huh? You liberals are so sensitive!"
"Ha ha, very funny."
"I think the interview went very well, don't you?"
"Yeah, I think it did too! See what a good journalist can bring out of you?" she smiled.
Before he could answer, a production assistant popped in and informed Katy that she was wanted on set right away. "The panel is discussing your interview, and they want to get your impressions."
"I'll be right there." She slipped her shoe back on and stood up but Trump grabbed her arm.
"Wait a second, wait a second....don't go...."
Katy looked down at his gentle grip on her arm. "I have to go, I'm needed on set." But the candidate wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Listen, I want to see you again. I really liked our chemistry and I'd like to get to know you better. You know many people want to see me, this could turn out very well for you."
"Let go of my arm, I'm needed on set, we'll talk about this another time."
"Give me your phone number. Please. I don't take no for an answer!"
"Donald, seriously, this is not professional."
He kept his grip on her arm but arched his fingers and started moving them slightly, working his way up her arm. The further up he went, the more she realized his aim was probably her armpit, and she was getting more ticklish with each inch.
"Ok, ok, look, here's my number, I have to go." She fished out a business card out of her bag and handed it to him. He held the card with both hands, looking at it proudly as if it was a Willy Wonka golden ticket. She felt oddly touched by his unabashed joy at scoring her phone number.
"I have to go now" and she was off. She rushed through makeup for a quick touch up and made it to the panel before the end of the next commercial break.
"We're joined now by Katy herself who conducted the interview. So Katy, I see the Donald was prowling around the studio after your interview!
"Yes, he was. In fact, he actually tickled me just now."
"What?"
Nodding and smiling to the rest of the panel, wide eyed and oblivious to their reactions she continued. "Yeah, he came up and tickled me...."
The panel looked uncomfortable.
" It was so weird.....I was sitting on the break, and he must have seen me from behind. And I had my ...my foot out of my shoe....you know what I mean? I had absentmindedly slipped out of my shoe. And he must have seen my foot and so he bent down and....tickled it." Katy started to blush.
"Oh my god, what did you do?"
"I almost jumped out of my seat!".
Flustered and flabbergasted, with a producer shouting into her earpiece to change the subject, the host said "Ok, moving on.....today in Brussels......"
*************************
"Tickled By Trump!" blared the headlines the next day, and for a short eternity Katy thought she was about to be thrust into the spotlight of a never-ending public scandal. But the headlines were quickly replaced by ones about Trumps latest tweetstorm. And then that story was replaced by something Trump said disparagingly about the 92-year old actress Betty White, and within a day or two, the "Tickled By Trump" scandal faded fast from the public discourse.
It didn't stop him from bringing it up at rallies, however, and it led to some truly frightening scenes for her.
"Kaaaaaaaty!"
The Republican candidate was at the podium onstage, bellowing her name. The crowd was going crazy.
"Something's happening here, Katy, something magical!"
The crowd whooped and cheered. A "Maga-moron" (as she privately called them) turned and shouted towards the press cage: "Yeah, something magical! You hear that?"
Trump continued. "Of course, something happens with Katy too. I think some of you know what I'm talking about. When you touch her. See, she doesn't want you people to know that but the truth is that Little Katy back there, Little Tough Katy from the Fake News is extremely, extremely ticklish. Unbelievably ticklish. What do you think of that?"
Katy's stomach dropped as the crowd whooped and cheered louder than they had throughout the entire rally, the biggest response yet. And the crowd would not stop cheering. Trump rode the wave and shouted over them: "She's ticklish! Go figure! She can't take being touched! What is that?"
Katy looked around and to her mortification all eyes were on her. People were shouting out things she couldn't make out; others were pointing at her, mockingly. Trump continued his tirade.
"All I did was tickle her a little bit and the fake news has a fit, can you believe that? Tickling! Unbelievable. What has the world come to?"
The rabble whooped and hollered and they were getting more and more unruly. This didn't stop Trump.
"I tickled her! Big deal! So sue me! "
Katy wanted to crawl under a rock, and there were no signs that he was going to stop. If anything, the reaction of the mob spurred him to even more outrageous comments.
"You go up to a beautiful woman and say coochy coochy, next thing you know you're in trouble, it's ridiculous!"
All of a sudden, out of the cheering came a chant, a high pitched chant, distant at first, but gaining in intensity until the entire crowd taunting her by chanting "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!" all in shrill high falsetto so that they sounded like mad birds. "Coochy coochy! Coochy coochy!"
"And there she is!" Trump bellowed, pointing to the press cage.
Everywhere she turned, people in red MAGA hats were closing in, getting nearer and nearer, their hands held up like claws, wiggling their fingers at her, miming tickling motions. They seemed half-crazed and as she scanned the faces she saw men with mustaches, young guys with crew cuts, soccer moms, elderly people, eyes wide and crazed, all seemingly threatening to tickle her to death.
"Kaaaaaaty!" Trump was bellowing again. "Kaaaaaaty! They're coming to get you, Katy!"
"They're going to breach the press cage!" someone yelled.
"Let's get outta here!" shouted her cameraman, and they made a hasty retreat to the NBC van, with the male reporters forming a human shield around her. It didn't stop the crowd trying to get at her, some of them leaping and lunging in, fingers wiggling, but to no avail. "You're getting tickled, honey. Let me at her!" she heard one elderly voice say, a female one at that. "Ticklish liberal!" shouted one gruff male voice periodically, as if punctuating the ongoing "coochy coochy" refrain. Finally the crew guys cleared a space and she could see the open door. "Get in!" her colleague shouted.
Once inside the van, Katy's heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to jump out of her body. No one had managed to lay a finger on her.....yet her entire body felt electric and on edge, hyper aware of itself. When she analyzed it later, she realized it was a body preparing itself to be touched.
"Are you ok?" somebody asked and she nodded silently. She was shell shocked. "Driver, floor it!" she heard another voice say, and the vehicle roared into action and was quickly safely on the road, further and further away from the danger.
As she sat in the back, she struggled with two sets of conflicting emotions: at first there was anger at how she was made into a prop for his rally. She had fear for her safety and relief that she had made it out unscathed. But as her mind came back to Earth, she began to recognize a primal feeling within her, one that she was trying to suppress. She realized it was curiosity.....what would it have felt like? Would she have laughed? She could still feel the lust of the crowd; all these people wanted to touch her, to tickle her. She knew that it had little to do with the fact that she was supposedly a "liberal" or part of "the media".....it had to do with the fact that she was pretty. She felt coveted and desirable. And she hated herself for what she had to acknowledge: at a safe distance, the whole idea of it turned her on; not the reality, but the idea of it.
**************************************************
She might have had mixed feelings privately, but to Trump she was unambiguous.
"Donald, how could you?!!! You want to answer that for me please?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. He'd called to check up on her, but had sheepishly danced around the elephant in the room.
"Donald, that was very scary for me! That was very irresponsible! Somebody could have gotten killed! Is that what you want? Do you want somebody killed?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." He sounded contrite.
Katy was livid, but felt she had given him an earful for the past fifteen minutes. Wrapping it up, she struck a conciliatory tone; after all, he was not a friend, he was the subject of her reporting.
"Listen....I know you're new to all this, you're new to politics, and that you want to do the right thing. But you have to be careful in what you say, and how you say it. Especially in the polarized political climate we're living through. Ok? I'm not mad, it was just scary and please, don't single me out, don't bring any extra attention to me than you already have. Ok?"
Trump was silent on the other line and for a moment she thought he might have hung up. "Donald? You still there?"
"I want to give you full access, Katy."
Katy laughed.
"Yeah, what, so that you can tickle my feet some more? Thanks, Donald, I've already got access, I'm assigned to your campaign, remember? Your followers scare me. I don't know if I can take more access. I'm all for covering Trumpworld but, you know...maybe that's a world one needs a little distance from, you know what I mean?"
Trump sighed. "I know what you mean, they get carried away...."
"Yeah, well you push their buttons."
"Well...that's what I do, I'm a button pusher, you know that. I push your buttons, I push their buttons....I get people riled up, I make them laugh, I make them squirm in their seat.....it's good! It's good for business. Anyway, its all going to be over soon, Katy, I promise. What's important is that you and me, we don't let stuff like this get in the way."
"Get in the way of what?"
Trump sighed wearily.
"Katy....I'm offering you full access. All the access you want. What else can I do? You can come and go as you please, you can do whatever it is you do, write a book, blab on TV, I don't care. Now maybe I'm crazy but that sounds like a pretty good deal to me."
"No more talking about me at rallies?"
"No more talking about you at rallies, that's fair."
"And no more tickling me. "
"Oh stop it, I'm not going to promise that. I already said I won't talk about you, and I won't. Now you want to set all these other conditions, what I can say, what I can do, no this, no that, no touching, no tickling. I'm a sensual person, Katy, you'll find that out. Besides, if you're honest with yourself, I think you kind of like it. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself. Full access, take it or leave it. Now what's it going to be?"
Katy was taken aback, but she was no dummy; she mulled it over for a few quick seconds and then flatly answered: "Full access."
Trump sounded relieved. "I'm very happy to her you say that, Katy. Very happy. I'll have my people handle all the necessary arrangements."
**************************************************
"I've got full access to him. I can come and go anytime I want, as long as I want, ask any question, he's given me carte blanc. The only stipulation is no cameras."
Jan was thunderstruck.
"Are you kidding me? Full access? Do you know what this means? You can write the definitive book on the campaign! Maybe even the Presidency!"
Katy burst out laughing. "The Presidency? Him? Yeah, right!"
**************************************************
They met a couple of times a week, and the sessions got flirtier and flirtier. She resisted at first but as time went on, she just went with it, especially the more apparent it became that he had no chance of winning the election. Guys had been tickling her throughout her whole life, she didn't know what it was all about but what was one more guy?
Still, it could throw her off when she was trying to be serious. If he got bored with the interview or didn't like a question, he'd invariably start back up with his old routine, removing her shoe and doing a kind of version of "this little piggy", tugging at her digits.
For instance, as soon as she started asking him about his relationship with Vladmir Putin, he threw his hands up, announced "Suit yourself, Katy!" grabbed her ankle and removed her shoe, placing her foot in his lap. "Ok, what's the question?"
"Ok, very funny, now put down my foot."
"Ask the question!"
She sighed. She knew what was coming but pressed on. "You're very friendly with Putin and..... "
He pinched her toe; she squealed and lurched forward, giggling. Smiling, and trying to manage her ticklishness, she tried to continue.
"You mean you're not?"
He started kneading the pads of her toes with his thumb and forefinger.
"Donald!" she shrieked, laughing, "Stop it! I'm just asking about the....."
His fingers started pinching in between her toes and she instantly melted. "Oh please, stop! Ok! Ok! You got me!" she squealed, hyperventilating with girlish laughter. "Next question! Next question!"
The Donald grinned and sat back, he had won. He kept a gentle grasp of her ankle, however, and gave her foot a firm squeeze, which felt warm and comforting. Katy smiled, caught her breath, and continued.
"Do you think that.......eek!....let me ask the question!"
**************************************************
She admitted she found him cute in old photos. "You were so handsome!"
Puffing out his chest and jutting out his chin without a shred of self-awareness, he proudly proclaimed "I still am!"
Scanning the bloated blotchy septuagenarian, she raised her eyebrows and mustered as much sincerity as she could manufacture: "Of course you are"
"You know Katy, I'm not usually attracted to American women. But you're different."
"Well that makes me feel special, Donald." she said flatly. "Don't you think your supporters resent you didn't take an American for a wife?"
"Katy, these people are so frightened of the Spanish language, I can say and do anything as long as they think I'm going to build a big cement wall on the border." He winked at her...then snickered like Renfield.
**************************************************
The Access Hollywood tape came out and Katy was revolted. Is this how Trump talked about her behind closed doors? Katy sensed this was to be the final nail in the coffin for his campaign and when he called to invite her to see his New Jersey golf course, she declined. Thinking no one would be too interested in all her reporting after Hillary became the first woman President, she enjoyed just going through the motions, showing up at rallies and being a talking head on cable news panels, giving her two cents. Election Day '16, and with it the country's first woman President, was coming like a speeding locomotive; it would all be over soon.
But things turned out very different.
**************************************************
She hadn't seen him since the election. When she walked into his suite, the mood was frenetic and happy.
"Katy! I told you I'd win!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know" she nodded, admitting the new reality.
"Even you voted for me, didn't you! Hillary didn't have Little Katy to save her." he mocked.
Katy laughed along. "No, Donald, I did not vote for you, I...."
"You didn't vote for me? Oh that does it..." He reached forward with both hands and started touching her midsection.
"Donald, don't!" she warned, smiling. She tried to back away but she was in a corner.
"Why didn't you vote for me?"
"Because!" she giggled.
"Because what?" he demanded, his fingers motoring away over her blouse, grazing her ticklish belly.
"Stoooop!", she laughed, trying to slap his hands away but barely tapping, weakened as she was by the warm, giddy sensation tickling across her stomach.
"You look beautiful when you get tickled, did you know that?"
Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, I didn't know that. Oh my god, you have to stop!"
"Not until you say I'm going to be the greatest President ever." He started pinching at her sides. Her voice jumped two octaves as her laughter intensified.
"Donald, please!" she squealed.
"Say I'm going to be the greatest President ever!"
"All right, all right, you're going to be the greatest President ever! Just stop, pleeeease!" she begged.
"Ok, ok. I'll give you a break." He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a chair. She sat down and caught her breath while he took a seat opposite her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, and for a moment, he just looked at her, pretty and in peace. Arrows of pleasure were shooting through her body; he'd never tickled her upperbody before; with her eyes closed she savored each deep calm breath she was now able to take, and she let herself feel serene.
"You exhaust me, Donald." she sighed, smiling, her eyes still closed.
"What can I say, I know how to get you."
"I guess I should congratulate you on your win."
"Well...aren't you?"
She fluttered open her eyes and met his. They looked at each other for a long electric moment.
"Congratulations, Donald. Mr. President" she said softly. He nodded gently.
"So what are you going to do now that you've won? I see you're on top of this crowd size business."
Trump furrowed his brow. "I suppose you think that's a small thing?"
"It was a small thing! Why are you wasting your energy on the crowd size at your inauguration?"
"Oh let's not talk about that. Why talk about that when we could talk about you? You know you looked very beautiful just now, Katy, I love seeing you all giggly like that."
"Oh really?" she replied incredulously.
"That's right. Getting to see you laugh like that.....it's a beautiful thing."
"Hmmm. I thought you liked 'liberal tears'."
"I like liberal laughter better." he said, leaning over and starting to play with her thighs.
"No, Donald, not again", she panicked before jerking forward as he squeezed her leg, and liberal laughter is exactly what he got.
"See you hate me....but you have to laugh."
"I don't.....hate you!" she sputtered before the laughing overtook her.
"Yeah you do." he said calmly as she went crazy in her seat, trying to get his hands off her.
"No I don't, please, I promise! I promise!!!" she shrieked, but the President wouldn't stop.
"Prove it, Katy."
It took a moment for her to finish her jag of laughing before she could get enough breath to respond. "Ok! Ok! You got me!"
"I said prove you don't hate me, Katy. I know I got you!"
Another long jag of laughing. "Ok, ok, how? How do I prove it to you?" she giggle-whimpered, like a new puppy.
"Give us a kiss, Katy." He stepped up the squeezing which really drove her up the wall with a full unbridled laugh that conveyed he'd hit a sweet spot.
"Ok! Ok! Just stop!"
He squeezed some more. "You won't renege on me will you?"
"I promise, I promise!" she screamed with urgency. "I'll kiss you! I'll kiss you! Just stoooop!" she buckled over and after a few more seconds, he relented.
She straightened up, huffing and puffing, and feeling very skittish just sitting next to him, feebly holding her hands up in defense, her body twisted as far away from him as she could get, trembling in anticipation of another attack. "Ok, ok, let me just catch my breath." she panted. She couldn't believe he'd just tickled her so much. But now that he'd stopped, she felt high on endorphins, her whole body felt alive and electric. she felt wanted and desired.....she felt extremely sexy.
She surprised him and even herself when, after recovering her composure, she took a deep breath, leaned forward and close to his mouth said in her sultriest voice: "You like liberal laughter, huh? How about a liberal kiss...." and pressed her lips against his.
He was at first taken aback, but she could feel him smile and then he kissed back passionately, taking her in his arms. As she kissed him she felt giddy inside as the same words kept racing through her mind, excitedly: "He was just tickling me; he was just tickling me! I'm kissing my tickler! I'm kissing my tickler!"
As if reading her mind, he began to pet her body, and as his hand lightly grazed her side, she giggled coquettishly through the kiss.
"Careful." she cooed, "You know I'm ticklish." She winked at him seductively. Then she kissed him again.
**************************************************
Of course, Katy kept all this from Jan.
"Have you gotten any closer to finding out about this Russia thing? Is he really going to build the wall? And what the hell is he so worried about crowd size for? What does he do all day?"
"I....I don't know yet." Katy didn't know yet.
"Don't know yet? Don't know yet? Katy, what have you been doing in there?"
Katy knew she was in the hot seat. "It's very complicated, he's very hard to crack."
Jan got right to the point. "Is he tickling you again?"
Katy looked away from Jan. "No, he's not."
**************************************************
Shy in her pink slip, Katy had an instinct this time that she was going to get it. After all the months of build-up she knew he now had what he had been chasing, what he wanted: her. Tonight there would be no aides, no handlers, and he'd have her all to himself. He had asked her to stay over, and to wear the sexiest bedwear she had. As she stepped into his bedroom, she looked around and didn't see him. "Donald?" she called out.
All of a sudden, he came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, going for the sneak attack. She immediately tried to buckle forward and shrieked with laughter. As she tried to contain the unrelenting tickles of his ten independent fingers probing her midsection, her hands resting on top of his, unable to stop him, he cooed into her ear "I've been waiting to do this a long time, Katy....a long time." As she struggled and writhed (to no avail) he let his nose trail her long neck and drink in the scent of her perfume.
"Poor Katy.....poor ticklish Katy....." she was now in a deep, deep laughing jag, eyes squeezed shut, practically limp, the fight out of her, held up by the tickling hands probing her stomach.
Finally she shrieked: "Get your stubby little hands off of me!" That was clearly the wrong thing to say.
"Stubby? Stubby? Oh, that's it, you're in trouble now."
He sunk his fingers into the creases of her armpits and tickled. He quickly worked his way in until she was practically being held up by his tickling fingers.
"Are they still stubby?"
She was hysterical. "No they're not stubby, they're not stubby! They're regular hands, they're regular hands!"
He dug in even deeper and tickled faster. "No, they're not regular hands, they're BIG hands, do you understand? Big hands. BIG!"
Katy was in silent laughter, her eyes squeezed tight, she just shook her head as in slow motion, and kept mouthing the word "no no, no". After a short eternity of this, she suddenly shrieked "Oh my god, stop!"
"Big hands Katy! C'mon now, you know what to say!"
"Big hands" she gasped, no sound coming out. "You got big hands."
"Louder!"
Katy tried again, then tried harder. Finally she screamed out in full laughter....."You've got big hands! You've got big hands, Donald!"
"That's right. Big, bigly, tickly hands. And I got the itchy fingers for you, Katy. So look out!"
"I will! I will! Oh my god, someone please help!"
"Raaaaaah!" the President roared like a monster, leaned back and lifted Katy off the floor. Completely conquered, she kicked her legs into the air as if that would somehow get her away from his hands. He pivoted his body and deposited the ticklish journalist on his bed where, exhausted, she caught her breath.
"Whew...that may be the most I've ever been tickled, Donald. That's a workout!"
Panting from his own physical exertion, he replied: "It was a workout for me, too." She looked up at him and saw that he was beet red and sweaty.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah...let me go take a Lipitor", he said, walking into the bathroom. "It's not easy tickle torturing you! Good times!"
**************************************************
Later that night, at the President's request, Katy went under the sheets. So this was it, she thought, it didn't get more intimate than this. As she journeyed down, she didn't know what to expect.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he called down to her.
At first the view was just a mound of gut.....literally a horizon of fat. She craned her neck to look under the hanging belly, and her eyebrows furrowed. All she saw was the sheet underneath. Looking up at him unsure, he gave a solemn nod.
She gently put both hands under the crease of the fat and gently lifted. Her eyes darted around, frantically.
"Katy? I said isn't it beautiful?"
All of a sudden she saw it, in the shadow of the undergut. The first analogous image that came to her mind was a mushroom. The next was a balloon knot.
"I......"
"Lots of women, lots of very fine women, they love me for it, you know."
"Er.....yes, Donald."
"Leave it alone for the moment, we'll come back to that later. I just wanted you to get a sneak peek, I know how important that is to women."
Stunned and reeling, she couldn't muster up a reply to that one. She settled for a distant "uh-huh". She almost felt sorry for him and thought about the old wives' tale: small hands, small penis. Those old wives were sure on to something, she thought. She came back up and he kissed her on the forehead.
"What I want to do now is please you. Would you like that?"
Katy was shocked. For some reason, she had figured it was to be all about his pleasure, not hers. Before she could answer, the bed frame began squeaking and rocking as the Commander-in-Chief - currently an undressed tub-of-lard, if she wanted to be honest - struggled to turn over. Now she was on her back, the President looming over her.
"Katy....I'm on top of you now."
"Yes, Donald, I know."
The President leaned down and started kissing her neck passionately. She could feel his tongue swirling around her neck which made her nose wrinkle and she stifled the urge to laugh. Her breathing got deeper and deeper as he started moving down her body. He started to kiss her chest and suckle her nipples. She couldn't believe this was really happening.
The President played with her boobies for a while but then slowly started to kiss down towards her stomach. The kissing started to tickle the further down he went but she didn't want him to know. Unfortunately she couldn’t hide it very well and her breathing - and her squirms - must have betrayed something because he started to go slower and even slower and more deliberate on each part, as if looking for a hint, a gasp, a flinch, a quiver, inch by inch, lips, breath, tongue swirls, making it more excruciating, making sure every inch teased and tickled her to the maximum. She kept letting out quiet little gasps, her breathing shallow, her hands reacting involuntarily, touching his head, she was being driven up the wall. He definitely knew what he was doing to her, even though she was praying he didn’t. Don't laugh, she kept telling herself, and he won’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know. Don't laugh, just don't laugh. Oh my god, that tickles so much.....
Then he stopped! He came to a complete standstill and just hovered contemplatively, lingering his lips around her belly button. She could feel his breath spilling over her stomach and all she could do was hold hers when he did it, it was maddening. She wasn’t sure what was coming and was just trying not to lose it. He would hold his breath, and so she'd hold hers in anticipation. When he finally let his breath spill out, her exhale would be shaky, and full of little gasps. This went on and on, slower and slower, longer and longer, it seemed like an eternity, he would just inhale –hold it….and she'd wait for him to exhale. Then he would, slowly, wisps of breath running all over her smooth stomach and she’d quiver, both her body and her breath.
And then….there was a long point of nothing, not even hot breath, he just hovered there, she almost thought he had fallen asleep… Did he not like her anymore?......Was he a slumbering lion...... was he a lion in wait?
She found out because finally - suddenly - he took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, plunged his head down, burying his face in her belly….and blew. A giant exploding buzzing raspberry all over her stomach, something she was not expecting, he had never done that before. Katy absolutely screamed with absolute laughter, her eyes squeezed shut as if concentrating on the spot would make it any more bearable. (It didn't). The sensation was explosive and electric, his lips buzzing and tickling, blowing and violently shaking his head into her stomach. She was caught, totally trapped and frantic, her hands grasping the sides of his head while she tried to get him to stop blowing. Unfortunately for Katy, he had her good and she couldn’t get away, all she could do was surrender, her hands weaving all around his head, his lips vibrating all over her navel....and Trump just blew and blew and blew. After a minute, he reached up, pinned her wrists to the bed and started nibbling on her sides. She went hysterical.
Finally he did stop and the laughter was dying away as he looked up at her with a devilish, mischievous look, completely proud at what he'd just done.... and then he plunged his head down below her waist, suckling her clitoris and making her feel floods of ecstasy. Her, the one he had just tickled half to death! It was her present, she told herself. It was her present for getting tickled, as if tickling her had made him want her even more. The tickly vibrations were still all over her tummy and shooting through her body as his tongue swirled around, and she came faster than she ever had in her life. As he came back up, she kissed him, and had to admit: "Well played, Mr. President."
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Wrapped in a sheet, Katy reclined against the headboard, her long bare leg jutting out from under the covers. It was morning, and Trump was already half dressed, standing at the end of the bed. As he talked on the phone, bossing someone around, he reached down and tickled her foot, causing her to gasp as she snatched it back from his fingers. He grinned satisfied.
"Yeah yeah yeah....just do it!" he barked impatiently into the phone and abruptly hung up. Turning his attention to his paramour, he sighed. "So....what should we do today?"
Katy laughed. "What should we do today? You're the President! Don't you have work to do?"
Trump started shaking his head as he buttoned up his shirt. "Nah, nah.....'executive time', sweetheart.....I can do whatever I want."
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Unfortunately sharing a bed with the President was no bed of roses. Literally. He spent his sleeping hours farting the night away, the only thing that could interrupt his howling death-wheeze-of-a-snore. Once she was so repulsed from his nighttime habits that she slipped out of the bed. She was at the window when she heard him call out in his sleep, "Katy...Katy where are you?"
She looked back at his moonlit silhouette......he looked like a beached whale in boxer shorts. The snores subsided and he looked peaceful. For a moment she had empathy for this man and the unimaginable weight of the world he carried on his shoulders. The responsibility to lead and care for millions. For billions. All under the microscope of critics who are just waiting for you to fail. Was she one of those critics? She felt guilty. Everyone deserves love, she thought to herself.
All of a sudden a squealing wet fart twisted out of the President's asscheeks and a satisfied smile broke out on his face. "Take that, America." he chuckled to himself, rolling over....
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Sometimes the President could be reflective. During one of the interviews, one in which he was showing her around one of his hotels, she decided to broach some touchy subjects, ones that people were starting to whisper about around Washington. Instead of denying everything, Katy was surprised at what he chose to remember about them.
"Ok, let me just throw some names at you. Stormy Daniels."
"Not ticklish."
"Karen McDougal."
"Extremely ticklish!"
Katy felt a tinge of jealousy. "What about.....me?"
Trump smiled.
"You? You deserve to be ticklish and you are. There's justice in how ticklish you are. What goes around comes around, Fake News." He gave her a friendly poke to the side.
Seeing that he was in an open mood about this particular subject, she decided to delve further.
"Ok, so tell me.....what is this whole tickling thing about anyway? What's the fascination?"
"Well......you know, Katy, I used to be into women's breasts, that was very big back in the day. Very big. But when you've seen one pair, you've seen 'em all. And believe me...I've seen 'em all. No, I discovered what was sexy about tickling pretty girls such as Karen and yourself through listening to my friend Howard Stern. His radio show. Do you know Howard? Oh he'd be very impressed with you. Very impressed. Let me call him and arrange a......"
"No, that's ok, I.."
"I could get him to...."
"No, Donald, really, I....."
"BABABOOEY!" he suddenly thundered gleefully. "BABABOOEY! FA-FA-FLUNKY! TA-TA-TOOTHY!"
Katy stood there frozen, not knowing exactly what to do.
"Ma-ma-monkey! Oh, I love that show. You know, I wanted to appoint him to the Supreme Court but they wouldn't let me."
The President marched out the room abruptly, shouting out once more: "Bababooey!" then laughing to himself, shaking his head. "That Howard!" An aide suddenly rushed up to her. "The President was just joking, he never considered such an appointment, this conversation never happened. You're going to have to leave now."
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Sometimes he could almost seem romantic. Almost. One night, he invited her over to the White House and when she got to his room, she saw it was to be a dinner for two. As they sat at the candlelit table, she felt like a princess. For a long while they just looked at each other, smiling and eating very slowly. Finally he broke the silence.
"Do you like music, Katy? Would you like to hear my favorite song?"
Touched at his sincerity she gazed into his eyes, gently nodding with a flirty "mmm-hmm".
The President got up from his chair, walked to the shelf unit and searched through a pile of compact discs, all out of their cases. Suddenly - and surprisingly - it was Spanish dance music that came blaring out of the speakers, a recording that featured what sounded like a small chorus of middle-aged men and a high pitched female voice. It took Katy a minute to place the song.
"Is this......"
"That's right, Katy! It's the Macarena! Isn't it great?"
Caught up in the moment, the President began dancing and Katy sat there, dumbstruck at the sight. The only way she could think to describe it was something akin to the Snoopy dance crossed with Michael Madsen's boogie during the torture scene in "Reservoir Dogs". At one point he started waving his arms to the side, as if he were a hula girl. A moment later had him holding up his two pointer fingers and shaking them like maracas.
"Oh, I love this song!"
Slightly disappointed, the mood broken, Katy shouted over the din: "I thought you were going to play something a little more romantic!"
"This IS romantic!" Trump continued with his dance and shut his eyes with a peaceful grin on his face. After the song faded out, his eyes fluttered open as if awakening from a dream and he shook his head, while sitting down at the table. "They sure don't make 'em like that anymore."
Amused, Katy slipped one foot out of her shoe and poked his shin with her toe. "I would have thought you'd play something more from your generation. The Beatles, some Motown, maybe Frank Sinatra." The President shook his head, dismissively.
"Nope. I like to listen to what the young people like."
"Well.....I don't really think young people listen to the Macarena, Donald."
"No, they do."
Katy laughed; she knew she wasn't going to win this argument.
"What about the fact that it's a Spanish song? I thought you didn't like Spanish people."
"That song is in English."
Katy couldn't stop laughing. "No, that's the English version of a Spanish song!"
"Oh, so you want to laugh at me huh? I'll give you something to laugh at!", he declared, reaching under the table for her ankles which kept eluding his grasp.
"Not when I'm eating." she said, laughing at his fumbling.
"That song is in English."
"Ok, Donald, that song is in English." she rolled her eyes.
"Very good", the President grinned, picking up his cutlery. "I love an easy win."
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Other food encounters were less charming.
"Mmmrmph. Mmmmrph. MMMM!" The President was sprawled out on his bed, wolfing down a McDonalds value meal, smacking his lips, with a ketchup puddle right about his chin.
"You....you have ketchup on your face."
"Where, here?" He started touching his face, missing the spot every time.
"No, on your chin."
"Here?"
"No, your chin. Your chin, Donald."
"Here?" he pointed to his lower cheek.
She sighed, exasperated. "Here, I'll do it." She leaned over and dabbed the ketchup. Seeing him with food all over his mouth, his dirty, greasy napkin sloppily tucked over his shirt collar, he looked like an overgrown baby eating it's first birthday cake.
"I'm telling you, Katy, sometimes I just get a Big Mac Infection."
She did a double-take. "A Big Mac Infection? I think they actually call it a Big Mac Atta...."
"Katy, don't start....please.....I have this argument all the time with people, it's called a Big Mac Infection, all right?"
Katy started to laugh. "Donald......it's called a Big Mac Attack. See? It even rhymes, get it?"
"THEY CALL IT A BIG MAC INFECTION!" he bellowed. " A FUCKING BIG MAC INFECTION! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? KELLY! MATTIS! GET IN HERE!"
All of a sudden the Department of Defense and the Chief of Staff came scurrying in like dutiful minions, their heads down as if this was the royal court of Henry VIII.
"Get her out of here so I can eat in peace."
As they hurried her out without so much as a goodbye, she looked back. Trump was chewing on his meat sandwich with a contemplative scowl. "They call it a Big Mac Infection..." he muttered to himself, annoyed. Grimacing, he leaned over to one side to open up a cheek, and squeezed out a buzzy, tortured fart. After the gas was all out, he continued chewing what was in his mouth.
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For Part Two click here
