My Night With TickleAsh (Patreon)

I honestly never thought that I’d hear from Ashley Lyn Weathers again. You know how it goes: you graduate high school and spend the next decade or two in a confused daze of self-doubt and too much responsibility. You wander around not even knowing who you are. You make friends elsewhere, lose touch, and make new ones. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. So the idea of genuinely catching up with someone from high school, especially after you’ve long since moved out of that town, is almost unheard of. Not impossible, sure, but very, very rare.

The thing was though Ashley and I were not the best of friends. We didn’t hate each other by any means, but I didn’t consider us actual friends either. Ashley was the girl who would show up with Starbucks ten minutes late to class every morning and have cheerleading practice after. She was always dolled up. I can’t imagine she ever left the house without putting at least an hour or two into her looks, even if it was just to go get the mail. I can’t pick on her too much about it, I was just as much a cliche. You know, drama club, enamel pride pins everywhere, obnoxiously belting show tunes in the hallways while having the audacity to still call myself ‘shy’. The point being that our paths didn’t really cross a lot.

She was pretty though, I’ll give her that. All the guys were super into her and it wasn’t hard to see why. She had a natural beauty to her, a charm that didn’t need to be so manufactured everyday. Maybe it was because she was still super friendly. And smart. And cute. Very cute. Short with wavy blonde hair usually pulled back in a ponytail that poured like silk. She had large, round eyes. Her petite frame gave her a doll-like appearance. She was always the one on the cheerleading squad either getting tossed on the football field or standing at the top of the pyramid. I’d imagine, at least. I was never one to willingly go to the school’s sporting events. I just picture that that’s what happens. I guess as a writer, it’s my job to sell that image of her, so that’s my point.

I suppose I should also say that I’m not usually one to write personal stories to share with others. It’s a strange new thing that I’m trying, so if it comes off as weird, that’s because it is. As such, I’m probably going to go about this like a ‘story’ story. For me, it’s as close to a memory, or the journaling of one, as my mind can convey, but for everyone else it’s a story, so the narrative will be more or less structured like one. Okay, I promise I’m getting to it. I know why you’re all here, so I’ll just jump on in. I just wanted you all to know that, but here we go!

Ashley Lyn Weathers reached out to me a couple months back. And yes, she went by her first and middle name pushed together. People went along with it. I suppose calling her Ashley Lyn was an easy way to distinguish her from the six or seven other Ashleys in our class. It didn’t take long for the two names to sound more natural that way, though most of us just called her Ashlyn. I hadn’t heard from her since graduating Jefferson High (go J-Hawks!). I’m not even sure that I heard from her then, but you get the picture. I may have talked to her once or twice in passing. Maybe about an assignment one time, I don’t remember. But Ashley found me and messaged me online. She found me through my writing profile, of all places, and went by the username TicklAsh.

At first, she was just TicklAsh092, someone who was admittedly a fan of my portfolio as a tickle writer. It wasn’t until we started talking that she finally told me who she was and how she knew me. She said that she found me through the interview I did a while back for Sterling Studies and asked if it was cool if we could meet to catch up. It was a little forward for someone I never really claimed to know, but having it be someone from home and so far back comforted me through a sense of nostalgia, I guess. It felt different, like it wasn’t just another reader wanting to meet in person, but rather someone from my childhood wanting to reconnect. I was still surprised to find her with such a username, trailing my work. I was probably as blown back by the fact that Ashley Lyn was allegedly a ticklephile like myself as I was at her reaching out or remembering me at all.

I don’t normally meet people on this basis. I really don’t like crossing my personal life with my online channel or story collection at all, but I went along with it. She apparently lived pretty close by and seemed friendly and just familiar enough that I agreed to meet up with her. We exchanged numbers, had a couple nice conversations over text, and eventually made plans to hang out. I remember that we said we’d get a cup of coffee together at a Starbucks that was a reasonable drive for us both. I dressed in something fun but professional. You always want to sell yourself as a success to those you went to high school with. She came in shorts, flip flops, and a frilly top. Understandable, as where we both are now stays miserably hot roughly thirteen months out of the year.

“Hey!” Ashley said cheerfully. She spoke first. I was hoping that she would. It’s always that initial introduction to the conversation that is the hardest to get out. It sets the tone for the whole meeting, you know? Like, is this casual? Professional? Flirty? I never know, but she did and went with the preferred ‘fun’ angle.

“Hey,” I followed, standing from the table I had chosen arbitrarily. She went in for a hug. Now, I’ve never been a big hugger. Plus, it’s not like we were old friends catching up, so the hug did seem kind of odd, but for Ashley, I could tell it was her natural gesture. I went with it, weakly hugging her back. It wasn’t awful. It was even kind of nice. Odd that she was being so nice to me now, but nice nonetheless. “How have you been?” It was a question that felt wrong almost, as if I had forgotten that we had already caught up from a few phone calls before. I hoped that she didn’t think I didn’t care or that I had forgotten. It just felt like the natural progression to the opening ‘hey’.

“Oh, super,” Ashley said, leaving me wondering how much of her presentation was genuine and how much was simply a string of polite societal casualties. Why am I like this? “Have you been waiting long?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I mean, I kind of came early anyway to get some work done.” I held up my phone, as if I needed to provide proof that I wasn’t a loser that loitered coffee shops in my bottomless Mary Poppins handbag of free time.

“That must be nice,” Ashley said. She smiled back at me. I had little memory as to what her personality was like. I never got the vibe that us not talking was the product of one thinking too lowly of the other, but rather more environmental incidents of never really being in the same clique. I’m sure she was always just that nice and that I missed out on getting to know her that way. Regardless, she was sweet right off the bat, and just as pretty as she was back then.

“Oh, I love it,” I said. “Would you like something? I’ll buy.”

“No thanks,” she said.

“You sure?” I asked. “I’m going up anyway.” Ashley thought for a second.

“You know, a small mocha sounds great right now,” she said.

“You know what? It does. I’ll be right back.” I got up and ordered our drinks, two of the same thing. After about a minute, I came back to the table with them both in hand. I handed hers to her and took a seat.

“Thanks,” Ashley said.

“No problem.” I took a sip of mine. It was still too hot to drink. Why did I order hot? It was a billion degrees outside and the girl behind the counter asked ‘hot or iced’? I sat my coffee back down in front of me, waiting for it to cool while it taunted me with its rich, chocolatey scent.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Ashley said. “Before, I didn’t know if it was going to be weird or not reaching out.”

“It was a surprise,” I said, chuckling to lighten the tone. She gave a nervous giggle.

“You know, we never really got a chance to talk in school,” Ashley said. I nodded along. “I didn’t even know if you’d remember me.”

“Of course I did,” I said. “Just because we didn’t talk doesn’t mean I didn’t know who you were. I’m surprised you remembered me.” Ashley smirked a little and shrugged.

No, I did,” Ashley said. “You were in the drama club, right?”

“I was,” I said, impressed by her memory. “Gah, that was such a long time ago.”

“I know, I feel the same way about cheerleading,” Ashley said. Looking back at her, it felt strange to see how she hadn’t seemed to age. She looked exactly as she did back then, down to the figure able to do cheerleading. I had long since given up acting as a career path, but if I was to take it up again, I would not be going for the same roles that I used to.

“Well, you look great,” I said, praying that I wasn’t coming off too creepy with the compliments.

“Thanks,” Ashley said, a genuine smile pressing little dimples into her cheeks. “So do you.” I shrugged her compliment off as cordially returning the gesture to avoid the awkward break of an unrequited expectation, but it still made me feel good hearing it from her directly.

“Thank you,” I said. I became bold and took a sip of coffee. It was still too hot to drink, but the sip didn’t hurt for too long. I swallowed my nerves and spoke softly to get out the words bouncing around my mind. “I have to say, I’m kind of surprised you reached out to me this way. I don’t really connect with people in person through my writing channel. Honestly, very few people I know in person know about it at all. So far, it’s been maybe one or two people that know. No one in my family does, that’s for sure.” Ashley smiled and shifted in her seat, feeling the nervous tension that kept me fiddling with my fingers against the table.

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” Ashley said. “I totally get what you mean, though. I’ve always kind of liked… tickling.” She whispered the word, her cheeks starting to pinken. She fidgeted in her seat and brushed back a strand of her canary yellow hair. “But I don’t know if I’ve ever really told anyone. I guess when I found out about you, it just felt right to reach out.”

“Like, ‘what are the chances’, right?”

“Right,” Ashley said. “You know, even then I’d find myself instigating it with boyfriends and even close friends. Like, I’d drop hints that I’m ticklish or go barefoot and stuff in hopes that someone might… but I don’t think I ever actually came out to anyone about it.” A parade of feelings all came over me at once. I looked back to those days and imagined Ashley, the one everyone seemed to adore, secretly wanting to be tickled. In as much as I empathized with wanting to keep it a secret, I couldn’t help but feel as if I missed some window.  And just like that, ‘What if’s buzzed around my mind like locusts preying on my insecurities. It was a question that I knew would stick with me long after that day. There was something that we both connected on, that we both could have bonded over that might have helped us both, and it just never happened.

“I get that,” I said solemnly. “I was the same way growing up. Even now I have a hard time vocalizing it, which is mostly why I keep my channel so separate from people who actually know me.”

“I understand,” Ashley said. “I didn’t tell anyone, in case you were wondering.” I wasn’t, but I was glad to hear her say that.

“Thanks,” I said. “I won’t either.” Ashley laughed through a heavy sigh that sounded as if she had dropped a breath that weighed like a brick.

“Good, thank you,” Ashley said. “I’ll say that your stories really helped me.”

“Really?” I asked, skeptically.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I started reading through them a couple years ago with Molly the Maid.”

“Ah, yeah, that was an experimental thing when I was just starting out and trying to test my hand at it,” I said, feeling the pink come to my cheeks. “That was a long time ago. Super cringey. I’d rewrite the whole thing if I could.”

“I liked it,” Ashley said. “It felt real. It made me feel like my thoughts and feelings were valid, you know? And then I read through Ticklands and Howling House.”

“Also both from a long time ago,” I said. “I can’t say that I’m super happy with how they turned…” I could see a subtle hurt to her expression, as if I was challenging her on something she was still struggling to come forward with. I sighed and held my coffee cup, the sides warming my hands. “Sorry, I… I’m not used to talking so openly about it.”

“It’s okay,” Ashley said. “I get it. I just wanted to say that I think you’re really talented and that your stories helped me understand myself a little better.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Really, that means a lot. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Ashley said. “And when I found out that it was you, I was all ‘do I know her’? And sure enough, it was the same girl I went to high school with.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the first,” I said. “Hopefully.” Ashley giggled.

“I definitely wanted to reach out and tell you that,” she said. “I probably wouldn’t have exchanged numbers with you or ask to meet up if I didn’t know you at all or if we lived so far apart.”

“Like it was meant to be, right?” I asked. That was creepy thing number two. I followed it by burning my saboteur tongue on another sip of coffee to distract myself from the reverb of what I had just said echoing in my own head. Still, Ashley laughed again and nodded.

“I mean, it’s certainly uncanny,” she said. “I’m just glad that you remembered me and that you agreed to meet with me.”

“Well, I’m glad that you reached out,” I said. “It means a lot. I hope reconnecting like this hasn’t been too uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Ashley said. “I wish we had talked more back then.”

“Me too,” I said.

I wanted to follow by saying something, anything, to keep the friendly atmosphere moving, but found myself silent. It was strange hearing her admit to thinking the same thing I had been. I knew the moment that followed, should nothing be said immediately, would go one of two ways. Either it would be met with an uneasiness that would ultimately force Ashley to conclude the meeting and subsequently any potential attempts to reconnect again. Or it would be the type of moment that would leave both parties involved caught in a tense bout of flirty, subtextual glances that would suggest further, more explicit, intentions. I should know, I had written dozens of cliche passages that went approximately the same way. The reality of the situation ended up somewhere in the middle.

“You must have had a lot of hands-on experience,” Ashley said. That one earned a full laugh.

“Haha, uh, no,” I said. “I’m flattered that you think that, but unfortunately, no. Most of my experience starts and stops with my brothers back in middle school.” Ashley smiled, yet I could tell she seemed slightly disappointed.

“Oh, well I just figured,” she said.

Yeah, sorry,” I said, awkwardly apologizing for my own vanilla upbringing. “I wish. That’s where a lot of the stories come from, scenarios that I’d think about and wish would happen. Writing is freeing like that. Makes me feel like there’s some part of me that actually has those experiences.” Ashley nodded along.

“I get that,” she said. “I feel like that’s why I like tickle stories so much.”

“What about you?” I asked. Ashley giggled and toyed with her hair some more.

“Oh, well, I said I’d try to instigate things, but nothing’s ever really happened,” Ashley said. “My old boyfriend, I don’t know if you remember Clark, and some of his friends held me down and tickled me once. That was fun. I never really told him how much I actually liked that. But other than that, sadly nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s…” I started to speak, but my voice started to trail off as my mind started to catch on. Our eyes met. My heart started to race. By the way her eyes shifted in between mine, I could tell hers might have been as well. I started picturing us both back in high school, how we would have been if we had opened up about this then. Ashley was always so pretty. Too pretty for me. She was the kind of pretty that made her seem almost untouchable, fictional even. As if there would be so little a chance that she would ever be interested in me that my heart never bothered latching onto her stunning, elegant beauty, provided that she would ever even consider being with another girl.

As I sat and stared back at her, I felt my palms starting to sweat. Mostly from the coffee cup, I’m sure, but still. My throat started to dry. I sat up straight, pushing out what little chest I had. My heart seemed to finally catch up to the situation, like Ashley had been a long time crush that I never even felt I had. Not only was she breathtakingly gorgeous, but she was sweet. Maybe I put up some barrier in my mind thinking that because she’s so pretty and because she never talked to me that she must be mean, no different than the girls who used to bully me in the fourth grade for being the only kid with glasses. But she wasn’t. She was sweet and kind, probably more so than the actual friends I had back then. Not only that, but we connected with something that I never really felt I shared with anyone else. Sure I had met other ticklephiles and even had a few email chains with some readers wanting to know me better, but Ashley was different. Never before had such an adorable face from my past wanted to connect, especially over the stories none of them knew I wrote, and more especially via confessing something so secret about herself, something that we both held private and dear to us.

I could feel that we both came to the same point of progression in the conversation. It was still a bold move for either of us, but in an organic sense. I fiddled with my coffee cup and assessed the girl across from me. Her nails were long like a tickler’s might be, but pink and glittery. Her hair was clean and curled. Iron curled, not naturally curled. Good for her for still putting so much effort into her looks. By nineteen I had given up so badly, I think all I ever used regularly was a brush and a single frayed hair tie. Her voice had a mousey timidness to it. Her purse was a Disney Princess-themed Dooney. Plus she did admit to trying to be tickled rather than to tickle anyone else. She said she did so by dropping clues, sneaky little bottom.

“You know, it’s not too late to start,” I said. Remembering I said this at all makes me want to leap head first into a wood chipper. I have never been smooth. Definitely was never one to make the first move. I was still easing my way into it. I retained just enough deniability to be able to pull out at any time with minimal damage done. Fortunately, Ashley returned the serve with a small giggle and shy stroke of her hair.

“Yeah?” Ashley asked. Was this her game all along? It’s super flattering, unbelievable even. Still, I was just testing the waters.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I could use more hands-on experience,” I said carefully. “Would probably make my stories better.” See what I did there? Tied it into the work. It’s not creepy, it’s for the artistic process. That was my rationalizing for it at least, but I was starting to suspect that she was locked in for the fun of it.

“Probably,” said Ashley, still smiling sweetly. It was her turn and she knew it. “I… I’d be open to helping out, you know, if you ever needed it.”

“Yeah?” I asked cheekily.

“Your stories are just so much fun,” Ashley started, “and if I could provide a little inspiration, I think that’d be really cool.” And there it was. The sale had been sold. I debated in my mind to risk it by saying something that could be smooth and cool or just keep it simple. As much as I’d love to fluff this story more, I had to play it safe.

“Y-yeah, I think so too,” I said. My hands still fidgeted with my coffee cup. It had cooled down in the time that I had forgotten it was even in my hands at all. “Maybe you’d like to come over to my place sometime?”

“That’d be great,” Ashley said.

“Cool,” I said, still trying to be just that. I thought about inviting her over right then, but not only would that seem too eager, but it might also imply that I had nothing else going on. And here I am saying ‘imply’ as if that wasn’t absolutely the case. Plus I needed to get the house cleaned and the roommate out if we were to go about it without distractions. “What are you doing Saturday?” She thought for a second, her eyes drifting off as she scanned her mind.

“I have to drive my friend to the airport in the morning,” she said, as if I needed to include this information at all. “But I’m free after.”

“Okay, so maybe around four or five?” I asked. “And I can cook too. I’m pretty good with an air fryer.” She laughed. I only then took note of how cute her laugh was. It had the carefree whimsey of a child’s laugh sung through the voice of a celtic maiden. It stirred me. It piqued my enthusiasm for what was to come.

“Four sounds great,” Ashley said.

The rest of our meeting hung on the energy left behind by the plans that we had made right then. We talked about people that we still kept in contact with. For me, it was basically no one. For her, though, it was practically everyone, including the teachers. We discussed careers and the exciting life of a baker’s assistant/ culinary student. No kidding, though, it was actually pretty cool. We exchanged pictures of pets and I went into some deeper details for upcoming stories I was working on. All in all, though, I don’t think either of us could pull our minds completely away from the date we had set up. She became more comfortable in her posture, which was nice. It made her sound more open in the way she talked and moved. I mirrored her as best as I could, trying my hardest to come off as naturally as possible like the neurotic mess that I am.

When we decided to call it, Ashley and I gave the go-to, parting ‘I’ll text you’ punctuation to the meeting and went our separate ways. I had a lot of time over the next couple of days leading up to Saturday to mull it all over in my head. I thought about what I said, what she said, and continued to picture what could have been. I thought about what would come of Saturday and how that would either better or worsen our relationship, vague as though it was. The days following were spent mostly cleaning with a little bit of texting between her and I. It certainly wasn’t flirty, you know the kind of ‘butterflies in the stomach’ texting that you may get so caught up thinking about after you meet that new super interesting person, but it was still nice and fun. I’ve always found it easier to communicate through writing than speaking so talking to her that way allowed us both to fill in any gaps that we left hanging. She was mainly focused on asking about stories. Always a pleasure. Want to get a writer crazy stupid talkative? Ask about the stories. They’ll say they don’t want to share in order to keep from coming off too self-centered or to keep from spoiling the plot twists that they think they’re being more clever about than they actually are, but they will. Trust me.

When Saturday eventually rolled around, I spent the day beforehand doing spot cleaning. I tried to get the day ready for what I expected to go down. I made the place smell nice, put out little candies in a dish, and actually vacuumed for the first time in months. My roommate was out for work, then leaving to go see his parents in Michigan, so I knew he wouldn’t be around for a few days at least. When Ashley did show up, she texted me that she was there and I went out to meet her. It was hard to distinguish what tone to take. Casual to keep from seeming too presumptuous? More proper like a date, as if I remembered at all what those were like? Friendly like we weren’t actually connecting for the first time. Nothing felt right, so I just tried not to worry about it.

“Hey, nice place,” Ashley said as I walked her inside. Ashley Lyn Weathers in my house. Even writing this out, I can’t believe it actually happened. It still feels like a dream, and not just in a fantastical way, but also in a ‘I cannot reasonably believe this happened’ kind of way. She came dressed as adorable as ever. It seemed as if her wardrobe hadn’t changed since high school, or at least not her size or style. She had on a lavender spaghetti strap top with a pair of pink and white frilly skorts. She wore the same flip flops that she wore to the coffee shop. I never got a good look at her feet in them then, but catching a glance, they were as alluring as I pictured they would be. Her hair was down and still wavy into loose curls. A modest application of makeup, coupled with the perfume I caught on her as she passed by me, gave me more ‘date’ vibes than I was expecting. Then again, I wasn’t experienced in this kind of event and I knew she wasn’t either.

“Thanks,” I said. “My roommate and I upgraded from the apartments near the parks just last year.”

“Too busy?” Ashley asked.

“Nah, just too small, and too full of bees,” I said. Ashley giggled. There it was again, like the song of a small bird right outside your window in the morning. Hearing it more and making sure she would have a good time that day was all that was on my mind. Any image I had of finally tickling the Homecoming Queen was cut short by the doubt and anxiety of ‘but what if it’s weird or you’re too creepy or she hates you forever or outs you to more people or spreads it around the channel and ruins your career before it even has a chance?’ I tried to take my mind off of it, but her voice ended up helping more than anything I could have done.

“You said you had a roommate?” Ashley asked. She walked further in, making her way toward the living room.

“Yeah, he’s out of town right now,” I said. “He goes away a lot.”

“A ‘he’, huh?” Ashley asked, smirking. I had to chuckle.

“Yeah, and gay,” I said while shrugging. “Both of us, I guess, so that’s a no that goes both ways.”

“You are?” Ashley asked. Her eyes widened a bit, her lips starting to curl. “Or maybe I knew that. I should have at least from your stories.”

“I’m sure I put that out there somewhere,” I said. “Hard to keep track of, honestly, with how much I put out. Content-wise, I’m not… you know, I’m not just ‘putting out’ for everyone… or anyone really…” Ashley laughed again. Was I actually being funny or was she just being kind and filling the gaps of my awkwardness? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I would have run around the world twice to hear that laugh again. “I, uh… would you like something to drink?”

“Sure,” she said. I went to the fridge and listed off the different sodas and juices and flavored waters I had stocked. She asked for a can of Pepsi and looked around the kitchen, popping in the tab with a hard fizzle. “Thanks. Your place is a lot cleaner than mine.”

“Yep, I try to keep it as clean as possible, when I can,” I lied like a liar who lies. “I have a lobster mac and cheese baking in the oven right now. I hope that’s okay.”

“That sounds great,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that much.”

“Nah, it’s a favorite recipe of mine,” I said. “I’ve done it so much now, I can knock out the prep in, like, twenty minutes.” That was my flex, guys. My whole flex.

Dinner came a little early, but we both knew it was for good reason. We talked more about our families, life after high school, and other hobbies that we had each taken up. After finishing dinner, and waiting about forty five minutes with some more sharing over The Office playing mindlessly in the background, we knew it was time to address the elephant. Being the host and the one expected to take charge, I went first.

“So, you wanted to be tickled? I asked. Saying it aloud felt more comfortable than I was expecting. It certainly helped that I was in the company of someone who was as familiar with the topic as I was. Being with her made it feel natural. Ashley, sitting next to me on the couch, looked back at me and nodded.

“Y-yeah, if that’s okay,” Ashley said. She turned away. “Oh god, I… that’s so weird to ask for, right?” I chuckled.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “If anything, I think it’s cool for that to be something you want. I’m sorry it had to come down to you asking me for it.”

“Are you kidding?” Ashley said. “I’m a huge fan of your work, so actually being tickled by you is, like, really awesome.”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint,” I said. I looked back at her in the dim light of the television screen. The sun had started to set. The room darkened around us. Ashley shifted oddly in her seat. I was compelled to react similarly. “Now, is there a specific way you’d like to go about it?”

“Well, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try having my feet tickled,” Ashley said. My heart leapt. My hands wrung together in my lap. I swallowed and tried to stay cool, sure that after everything that I had written, Ashley likely knew I had a thing for feet.

“I, uh, s-sure, that’d be fine with me,” I said, fumbling over my words.

“I mean, I’m ticklish all over, but I’ve just always wanted to be really tickled there, you know?” Ashley went on. “Anytime it’s happened, I’d always laugh too hard and then the other person would stop and I could never bring myself to just be like ‘no, keep going’.” I chuckled and stroked my hair.

“No, yeah, I can see that,” I said. “So I take it you don’t want me to hold out on you?” Ashley thought for a moment, nervously twisting in her seat.

“Well, I’d like to see just how much I can take,” she said. “What if we had a safeword? Sorry if that makes it sound too weird.”

“No, no, that’s pretty standard… I’d imagine,” I said. “How about J-Hawks?”

“Haha, yeah, that seems appropriate,” Ashley said.

“Alright then,” I said. “Want to start slow?”

“Sure,” Ashley said. She adjusted herself on the couch, sliding back against the opposite side armrest. She slipped off her flip flops and placed her bare feet in my lap. It was a moment of total disbelief. I nearly gave my head a shake to try and wake myself up from the dream I was having. One of the cutest girls in my high school comes back into my life and plops her feet in my lap specifically for me to tickle them? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. But the pounding in my chest was all too real. “Oh, I’m so nervous. I never thought I’d be doing something like this.”

“Oh, me either,” I said. I turned down the volume on the television and stared down at her feet in my lap. They laid across my thighs like two resting kittens. They were of a typical size to a girl of her stature. Her toes were painted with a humble reddish tint. I breathed deeply to steady myself. My hands lowered to start slow. Not even tickling yet, just lightly touching against them to prove to myself that it all was really happening. I cupped my hand around one. It was warm, humid mostly around the sole, which I avoided to keep from rushing into it. I brushed my fingers against the tops of her feet. They were creamy soft, like stroking the petals of a vanilla orchid.

I was sure that I wasn’t being subtle in the way that I looked down at them. Part of me worried about coming off too strongly, that she would be made uncomfortable by how obviously I was into it. But she was a fan, she knew my tastes, and I certainly wasn’t holding her there. We had reached a ‘point of no return’, in a way, where all of our cards laid out across the table. It was that carnal rush where you and them are silent yet clearly communicating how you’re both yearning for something to happen. I got all of that from just staring down at her feet in my lap.

When I did start to tickle, I was still light about it at first. My fingers circled around the edge of one foot toward her sole. It was warm and soft like virgin cotton. Ashley reacted immediately. I noticed her body clench up, her arms tightening by her sides. She squeaked a little and watched my hands as they traced around her feet.

“Neeeehhhheekkhehehee,” Ashley giggled, raising her hands to her mouth. I chuckled back at her.

“I’m barely even touching you,” I said.

“I kn-hheehee-ow,” Ashley said. “They’re just… really ticklish…” I smirked. So much power over her right in my lap and she just kept it there for me. I knew the night would be a memory that I’d never lose.

“Oh well,” I said casually. “You have a safeword.” I brushed the tips of my fingers across her sole. Still not tickling, only examining. One foot shifted to try and cover the other. Her toes wiggled and curled. Ashley giggled and watched closely. I felt all over her foot before moving onto progressing the session. I grazed down her arch to her heel, impressed by how smooth she managed to keep them over the years. Up across the ball to the base of her toes, my fingers licked slowly. I gently ran the bubbly pads of her toes across my knuckles. They were plush and delicate, like small, pink boba pearls. I took my time examining one foot before moving to the other. When I felt that I had thoroughly explored both, I dared to start pushing her.

I started with small scratches at first. Just little brushes with the pads of my fingers against her sole. She reacted the same as when I started touching her, only more constant. She squirmed in her seat. Her fingers kneaded into the couch cushion. Her legs twisted a little, but Ashley managed to keep her feet in my lap. Her eyes stayed fixed on my hands, only one of which was actually tickling her. The other kept a subtle hold on the top of the foot.

“Mmmmeeheheeheheee!” Ashley giggled. It was a sound like candy to my ears. It was like rediscovering a song that you used to like after having forgotten it for so long and it still sounding just as good. Ashley seemed to both tense and relax all at once. Her arms and legs tightened as she started breathing heavier. She giggled through a bitten lip that burned through me. My own heart was pounding, at times fast enough that I was sure I’d have a heart attack, but didn’t care as if those could have been my last moments and I would have gone out a happy girl.

“Awww, wow, you really are ticklish,” I said. I danced my fingers quicker over the plush, humid surface of her sole.

“I taaaaahahahaaald you!” Ashley laughed. She was unable to sit still. I couldn’t blame her, I’m sure I’d be the same way, though there’s no way I’d be just as captivating to watch. She laughed as angelically as she looked. Her feet pointed and caressed one another in my lap. Just the way she squirmed breathed an air of attraction, an encouraging subtext to any insinuation that she would want it to stop. As I teased her sole with light strokes, she occasionally jerked her foot back. Not all the way, just impulsively, only to put it back immediately after.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” I spoke softly. I didn’t know what to say in the moment, or if I should say anything at all. Teasing with phrases felt perhaps too personal. Staying quiet ran the risk of making the session come off as lifeless, as if I was only doing it out of obligation. Distinct tickler engagement is an important element, or so I had been led to believe in crafting ticklish scenes out of my own personal fantasies. Like with everything else, my mind ping-ponged in gauging whether something I said or did was good or bad, supportive or creepy, a delightful moment or a cringe that I’d carry with me forever.

“Aaaahhhhheeeheheheheee!!” Ashley let out a little squeak into another fit of giggles. My fingers sped up their taunting scribbling to what could only be described as full tickling. Nothing torturous, not yet at least, but definetly intentionally tickling. I scratched at one heel and worked up across her delicate little arch. I teased the hells up to the base of her toes. I’d focus several minutes on one foot before moving to the other, leaving Ashley still with a sense of predictability so she could still enjoy the warm up phase.

“Aww, you have such a cute, ticklish little laugh,” I said. It paid off. With every cautious taunt that filtered through my brain, Ashley appeared to be more and more responsive, as if she enjoyed that variable of the session. Her laughs became a little louder. Her movements became a little more jerky. She tried a little bit harder to hide the focused foot beneath the other, but no matter how she moved, her feet always returned to my lap for more tickles.

Her feet below me on my lap gave off a frail, summer scent. I didn’t know just how fast my heart would have to beat for it to just explode out of my chest, but I knew I was well on my way to just slipping out of my seat entirely. I was really trying my hardest to not let Ashley catch onto what it all was doing to me. I watched her toes wiggle to my gentle strokes. I teased them, brushing across the pads before wedging my fingers down beneath their useless efforts to protect themselves. My nails were shallow, much shorter than hers, they still scratched away at the hyper sensitive spots and made good work of Ashley ticklish little toes.

“Neeeaaaahhhhahahahahahaaa! Nahahahaat my toeeeessshahahahahaha!!!” Ashley started to squeal. I could only chuckle to myself, trying to assume the role of sadistic tickler completely unsympathetic to my victim’s cries. The same character that I had written dozens of times with only slight variations. In the moment, I found myself racking my brian as to what they would all do or say. I had gotten into those characters’ mindsets so many times before so why I was unable to recall any of it in the moment was beyond me. In the end, I just played it naturally, which thinking back was the best thing to do. It certainly painted the least regretful memories looking back.

“No, I think these little toes have been craving a good tickle,” I said with a chuckle, trying to play up some adjacent caricature of the unfeeling tickler. Ashley seemed to be bent on vocalizing the ‘victim’, so I felt naturally compelled to play back while walking on eggshells to not say something so incredibly off putting that I’d ruin the whole experience. I figured I’d focus more about the hands-on experience than about putting on some kind of show. I kept a steady pace against her toes, holding whichever foot I was playing with firmly with my other hand. Her toes curled against my fingers. They splayed occasionally, letting me get in between them for more soft, ticklish scratching.

“EEEKKKKheheheeheehehehahahahahaha!!!” Ashley’s laughter continued to rise. She gripped the edge of the couch. She squeaked and twisted slightly. Her feet kept pulling away and returning more and more frequently. I tried my best to hold them steady, but not so much that I seemed too needy or desperate. I actually liked when she pulled away. It let me know that I was doing a good job and I got to see the shy, telling smile she wore as she slid them back onto my lap.

“You keep squirming like this, I’m going to have to hold you down,” I said, impregnating her mind with the idea. She didn’t fight it. She may have given a little smirk. I held onto that for a while to keep things moving steadily. With her feet still free, I continued to play and push her limits. More fingers came to scribble against her soles. I tickled faster and faster, sometimes managing to tickle both soles at once. They felt so plush and intimate against my fingers. She squealed and squirmed more and more against my couch.

“Thhhahahahahahahaaaaaat ticklessshahahahaha!!!” Ashley laughed. I chuckled along with her, hoping she was having as much fun as I was. At one point, I managed to take a firm grip of one ankle. The other foot had pulled away entirely, but I held onto Ashley’s left ankle for a more intensive approach.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I teased, skittering all my fingers of one hand against her one foot. Ashley threw her head back laughing. Her other foot weakly tried to press against me to pull the other away, but like all of her attempts to avoid the tickles, it came staged with no real intention of working. I would alternate, catching the other one in a tight grip to treat her right foot to more scribbling tickles. I could see her cheeks turning red in the dim light of the room. She breathed heavier through her laughs. Her seat seemed to grind into the cushion below, a tell that I was all too familiar with.

“EEEEKKKehehehahahahahahahaaaa!!! Gaahahahahahahahahaddd!!” Ashley sang like a ticklish little bird. I treated myself to her laughter, holding out each rush of tickles for as long as I could before my worries took over and gave her a short break. It would only be long enough for her to reset into a comfortable sitting position and for me to plan how I would proceed next. Never before had I had such an intensive session where I was on the giving end. There seemed to be equal parts planning and improvising that went into it. It was a whole different experience than your impromptu ‘pinning someone down with tickles for two minutes until they tell you to stop’ tickling. It wasn’t rushed. It didn’t feel like a fleeting moment. It was a truly intimate exchange that benefitted from patience and understanding.

After Ashley had slipped from my grasp a few times, she pulled both feet in toward her, shielding them with her hands. She continued to giggle and stare slyly back at me. She coyly brushed a strand of hair out of her face and caught her breath.

“W-wow…” Ashley said. “That’s… wow…”

“Good?” I asked. Ashley closed her eyes and nodded.

“I’ve just… never been tickled like that before…” Ashley said. “I’ve always wanted to be…”

“Is it like you imagined?” I asked. She looked back at me and smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. “Better probably.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m glad.” I gave her a few more moments to collect herself. “But you didn’t say the safeword. Want to keep going?” Ashley paused and smirked. She looked shyly off to the side, sliding her feet back into my lap. I chuckled. “But we can’t have you squirming so much, so…”

“What are you- whoa!” Ashley gasped. I wrapped up her ankles with one arm, my front facing away from her. There, caught in my hold, I held little miss cheerleader’s ticklish feet in my arm, just begging to be played with. She giggled from the nerves, her back laying moreso across the seat of the couch. Her feet wiggled against the crook of my elbow. I held them both tightly to keep either from slipping away. I emphasized that point by scratching a single nail against Ashley’s left sole. She let out a small squeak in surprise, not having seen it coming, followed by more fluttering laughter.

“Uh oh, looks like your feet aren’t going anywhere now,” I said. Another quick scribble against her right sole left it pointing and wrinkling in defense as the left foot tried to shield it.

“Oh nooooaahahahahahahaaaaa!!!” Ashley laughed. She pulled her feet slightly against my hold, but never broke them free. I still believe that she could have gotten free if she really wanted to, but her efforts to do so were mostly for show, just like my efforts to keep them effectively trapped. I did my best to keep up the intensity by quickly scribbling my nails against one sole at a time. No more easing her into it, we were both deeply into it. My nails scaled her arch with rapid scratches. They circled her plump little heels. They managed to swipe underneath her toes. I found the loudest squeals of all came from scratching at the stem of her second toe. It was a cute little quirk, one which I was honored to have been able to discover.

“You wanted this, remember?” I asked. “Coochie coochie coo!” My fingers dashed all across one sole before switching to the other. I was far more random in doing so. Having her being unable to see my movements added an exciting new element for us both. Ashley laughed louder and in a quicker flurry. She raised her hands up to cover her face. Her hair got tossed around as she shook her head back and forth.

“EEEEEKKKKKAaaahahahahahahaaaaa!!! Staaaahahahahap!!!” Ashley squealed with teary-eyed laughter. I got to watch her feet squirm up close. They seemed happy to receive my attention. They wigged in every way they could to avoid my scribbling fingers, but I managed to keep a steady stream of tickles constant between both of her trapped feet. Looking down at them so close, I could have given her toes a quick nibble. I wanted to, oh how I wanted to, but even now I’m glad I didn’t try it. Her comfort was my top priority and I wasn’t about to jeopardize that by trying something we didn’t agree to.

“You do have the cutest little laugh though,” I taunted. I scribbled my nails faster and faster, keeping a firm hold on both of her ankles. She twisted back and forth against the couch. I could feel her try to pull away then stop herself. Back and forth, over and over again. It was a wild experience, even still looking back on it. Not so much because of what I was doing, but who I was doing it with and how quickly we connected over it. It was like we had been friends forever up to that point. That’s how comfortable we both became with one another. I had never connected so much with someone so quickly before in my life. It was as if the history of our distance was being erased and rewritten in real time. Maybe I was excited to have a tickle partner who understood me. Maybe I was secretly hoping for Ashley to become an actual ‘partner’ partner someday. But what excited me the most, strangely enough, was the potential of just developing a friendship with her, someone who I truly never thought I’d see or hear from again.

“Aaaaahhhheeehehehahahahaaahaaaha!!! Naahahahahaa there!!!” Ashley squeaked, writhing against my couch. I might have zoned out there for a minute. I think, even in the moment, I couldn’t be sure whether or not I was dreaming. It was the kind of experience that passes by in a blur, where the rules of reality seem to vanish and the world becomes about you and them and the moment you share. It’s bizarre talking that way about tickling, but there’s something to tickling that can be just as intimate as anything more, even when kept innocent. Overall, the moment is about pleasure with a partner, stimulation, vulnerability, exploration of someone’s body that may include areas and details about them usually reserved for private encounters, and affection through physical contact that elicits specific sensations. That’s just my analysis on the matter and probably why I, and I’d guess most of my readers, feel the way we do about it.

The room started to heat up. A stronger musk began to fill the air. I could never bore hearing her laugh and watching her feet squirm in my arm. My nails skittered and glided over her soles, scaling one before moving to the other. Back and forth I went, my fingers licking her feet the way I might have been under more familiar circumstances. Ashley’s hips bucked. She gripped at the edge of the couch. Her arms relaxed and tightened alternatively. Her body shifted uncontrollably as  the tickles poured in from her perfect little feet. I continued to push her, tickling faster and faster. While not saying the safeword, she did start getting more forceful with her attempts to pull away. The veil of her letting it happen was dropping but not so much that she was ready for it to stop completely. A fun little ticklee, to say the least, like a dream character come to life.

When her movements started to become too desperate and effective to hold, I took a bold next step. I could tell she didn’t want it to stop. It was easy to put myself in her mind, as what she described wanting were fantasies of my own growing up. So I took it upon myself to further the intensity of the session. I let go of her ankles just long enough to flip her over on the couch.

“Wh-heheehe-wha-ahaah…” Ashley giggled. She was receptive to what I was trying to do, almost as if she were reading my thoughts. We didn’t need to break for me to explain it, nor did she need one to catch her breath. No, for a brief moment, she seemed almost eager to flip herself over onto her stomach. I pulled her ankles down to the armrest and laid them overtop. I straddled the backs of her legs, my knees tightly holding hers together.

And there they were. Tucked between my legs, unable to get free, were Ashley Lyn’s gorgeous soft soles, bared and staring up at me and waiting to be tickled. Ashley Lyn, one of the most beautiful girls from my past, so incredibly unobtainable and perfect. She was sweet and kind. She had the most perfect little laugh sung through the voice of angels. And while I sat and stared down at her soles, I felt the crush forming in my chest, carving its way out as if it had always been there. I was right where I would have always wanted to be if I had any self esteem at all to imagine that it would have even been possible. It was a dream. It was the story of a fantasy come to life. And yet, it was actually happening.

I tried not to stall too much. I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was just gawking at them. Still, I think she enjoyed the anticipation while she squealed and squirmed beneath me. Sure, let’s call it that and not me kneeling like a dope and staring down into what might as well have been my own personal manifestation box.

“Uh oh, can’t get away now, can you?” I asked. Her blushing pink soles wiggled slightly as they laid before me. “Now I can tickle these feet all I want to…”

“Uh ohhheehee…” Ashley giggled nervously. Her toes clenched, wrinkling her soles. I snickered to tease before dragging one nail across one sole. I could have come in hot, but I really wanted to hear that squeak again.

"Eeeekkkkheeheeh!!" Ashley yelped. I gave her feet a couple more swipes at random. She shrieked with each and giggled in between, holding onto the small pillow up by her head. My fingers tasted their tender warmth; their soft, tepid texture. With each little dragging scratch, her toes curled. Her feet shifted uselessly beneath the weight of my seat holding them in place. They still tried to protect one another by attempting to hide one behind the other, but there was little they could do to defend her ticklish little soles.

“Your ticklish feet might just become the focus for my new story, Ashlyn,” I said. In giving her little time to process, I began lightly dancing my fingertips across both of her soles at once. I still held back, reducing my touches to feather-light brush strokes, but even that would have proved to be too much for her compared to the way she started screaming with laughter.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHEEHEEEHEHEEEHAAHAHAHAHAH!!!! NAAHAHAHAAAAA MY FEEEEHEHEHEHEEET!!!” Ashley shrieked. I still wasn’t hearing a safeword. My fingers fired away on her helpless, trembling feet. I dashed all ten in wild scribbles up and down both soles, keeping them firmly in place with my knees. Her boisterous squeaks resonated as untethered laughter. Her head thrashed side to side. She gripped the pillow and plunged her face down into it, muffling her shrieks. She knew what to do to get me to stop. I could tell that she genuinely wanted to be pushed, a desire that I was happy to oblige.

“Coochie coochie coo,” I taunted. The teasing phrases came more natural the more comfortable we became with one another. I was starting to feel like we were old friends and always had been. Her little feet blushed a bright pink hue. They looked so adorable all trapped between my legs, nowhere to go and with no one to save them. My intrusive thoughts switched frequently between being sweet and wanting to shower them with praise and sadistic and wanting to punish them for being so cute. Ultimately, I still maintained control over us both. What was most important was making sure she was comfortable with all of it, no matter how far she wanted to be pushed.

“NAAAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH!!!! OHHHH GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!!!” Ashley screamed. Her laughter alternated between bellowing through the room and falling muffled into the pillow by her head. The room began burning around me. I watched her adorable feet squirm beneath my fingers still with disbelief. Her feet were so warm and soft to the touch. My nails skittered across them with relative abandon to the ticklish devastation I was raining down on them. I barely noticed how much I started to sweat, how heavily I started to breathe. I bit my lip. I never wanted it to end, but knew it had to. I remembered how fleeting all those other tickling experiences had been throughout my life and took the time to appreciate the moment, knowing it wouldn’t last forever.

“It’s a real shame we didn’t start doing this back then,” I said. “I guess I just have to make up for lost time.” My fingers dug within the clinched confines beneath her toes. My nails slipped into the  delicate bubbles, scribbling where they could reach. Ashley’s shrieks howled louder still. She held the pillow close to her like a security blanket. Her tender squeals and cries of laughter burned into my mind like a song I would never want to get out of my head. My fingers raked beneath them. They slipped in between and danced across the tender pads. Ashley began to gasp. I thought I may have even heard a moan. But before the session could continue further, I heard it.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!! JAAHAHAHAHAYYY HAAHAHAHAWKSSS!!!” Ashley screamed. Immediately, albeit reluctantly, I stopped. I pulled back and simply admired how her soles rested from the tickles. So soft and vulnerable, I watched them as they laid in restful stillness. I thought about bending down, giving them a little kiss of appreciation, but knew that would likely be pushing it. Yet another bridge that I may one day cross, but for then, I was just happy to have had the moment that I did with her.

I climbed off of Ashley, turning to see how she was managing post-tickling. Her face was deep red. Her hair had been loosened and clung to her forehead. Only her midsection seemed to move, her back rising and falling as she slowly caught her breath. Even in the dim light of the television, I could see a faint smile resting across her tired lips. I took it upon myself to fetch Ashley a glass of water. By the time I made it back, she was sitting up holding her head.

“Here you go,” I said, handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She took it and gulped down a lot at once. When she was finished, she fell back against the couch. “Wow…”

“You okay?” I asked. Ashley nodded.

“Yeah…” Ashley said. “Just… wow… That was amazing…”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she said again.

“Was it what you were expecting?” I asked. She chuckled.

“I didn’t realize how ticklish I am,” she said with a weakened laugh. “Or maybe you’re just that good.”

“Nah, probably more the former,” I said. “Can I get you anything else?” Ashley paused for a moment.

“Just… let me sit here,” she said.

“Of course,” I said. “Take your time.”

Ashley Lyn sat back and rested her eyes. As she gradually regained her energy, she and I got into talking once again. She shared what she liked about it and wanted to know whether or not I had a good time too. How could I not? I mean, I never truly imagined I’d have such an opportunity. If I turned it into a story, it’d be far more fantastic than realistic. But there I was, sitting next to the Prom Queen (probably, yet another thing I never went to) having just concluded a heated tickle session between her and her coveted feet, and chatting like old friends. It was magical. Some might even call it miraculous. It was a night that I knew I’d relive in my mind over and over again for years.

When it became too late to keep pushing the evening, I helped her collect herself and walked Ashley to the door.

“This was a lot of fun,” Ashley said. “Thank you for all this.”

“I should be thanking you,” I said. “But I’m glad you had a good time. Feel free to reach out whenever.”

“Oh, I will,” Ashley said. “Maybe we can hang out again soon.”

“Oh for sure,” I said. “There’s this really good Thai place down the street. Maybe later we can go grab lunch or something.” Ashley smiled.

“That’d be good,” she said, “but I meant more like… this.” I chuckled and looked away.

“O-oh, right,” I said, not expecting to be lucky enough to get invited for another session. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” Ashley said. “From what I read, you can be quite creative with things… I’d love to help you out more with… you know, other stuff…” My throat ran dry. The butterflies in my stomach swirled in a nervous whirlwind. I scratched my arm a little, looking back at her. Ashley totally caught me off guard by being more forward than I was expecting. I guess that’s what I get for making her perhaps too comfortable. Still, I wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.

“I’d like that,” I said, the day feeling more and more like the end of a date. There was a rush to the mystery of that, the endless back and forth in my mind of ‘is this a date, is it not a date’ being ever present from start to finish. That alone was what never really calmed the nerves. It’s what kept me from pushing further and making mistakes of presumption. And it’s not like you can comfortably ask the person either. You’re locked in this strange volley-game of romantic or sexual contextual advances where you’re playing tennis and they’re playing badminton; same basic premise but the rules were never made clear. It’s only rewarding when it works out, but potentially devastating when it doesn’t. Maybe that’s been part of the reason that I distanced myself from such things for so long. Strange that it happened to be Ashley Lyn Weathers that would teach me this about myself and allow me to find some enjoyment in the mystery of it all. I was perfectly content keeping the mystery alive, especially if it meant keeping her comfortable enough to come back for more sessions.

“Good, then it’s a date,” Ashley said.

Mystery dropped. There it was. With that tone then in the air, she turned to leave. I watched her walk to her car. I watched her pull out of the driveway. I watched her drive off into the night. And there I stood. Crickets chirped. Moths danced in the streetlights. The air was cool and clean against my skin. I paused in the silence of the night, Ashley having left me with the strangest feeling of all: that it all had worked out.