Date: Sun, 17 Oct 2010 15:18:54 +0200 (CEST)
From: Teresa Yam <trevor@maytum.fsnet.co.uk>
Subject: Tickled Pink

The spring evening had grown quite cool by the time Linda reached Jennifer
Palmer's front door. It had been a warm day and all she had on was a pink
floral sleeveless summer dress and flat shoes. But now she was feeling the
chill in the air. She mildly regretted not putting on a cardigan or
something else warm for later when she returned home. It had been years
since Linda had done any babysitting, not since sixth form, around a
quarter of a century ago and as she now rang Jennifer's doorbell some not
so nice memories of the unruly brats she had once been asked to look after
on those occasions came back to haunt her.

It was no wonder then that Linda had hesitated for a moment or two when
Jennifer, a divorced mother of one girl, whom she had gotten to know during
the autumn term at the adult education centre - they had met while
attending a creative-writing course - asked her that very morning if she
could sit her daughter in the evening.

"I'd really be very grateful," Jennifer had said, almost fawningly. "I've
got a date. I can't really get out of it." Her gentle brown eyes crinkled
into an imploring smile as she squeezed Linda's hand warmly. Linda felt a
flurry of butterflies at the touch of the other woman. Oh God, she thought,
it was sheer torture to be in denial about one's sexuality. How nice it
would be to be able to express one's true feelings without the fear of
others' opinions.

Linda really liked Jennifer, as a person and sexually, but doubted if it
was reciprocal. No chance of that, she supposed. Jennifer had never given
any hint that she was that way inclined in the six months or so they'd
known each other and she didn't want to ruin a good friendship by coming on
to her and thereby offending her and embarrassing both of them. The fact
that Jennifer had squeezed Linda's hand was surely no more than an
affectionate gesture between two good friends.

Linda thought it best to keep her thoughts private and immerse herself in
the occasional pleasant fantasy. Sometimes her daydreams about Jennifer
would become raunchy and she would seek the privacy of the bathroom to
assuage her desire; or lying in bed when her hand would surreptitiously
slip inside her pyjama bottoms, listening to the steely rain against the
window on a cold winter's night. Those wintery evenings were the worst time
to be alone. At least Jennifer had the company and comfort of her daughter.

"Mum's got the flu. I don't know who else I can ask at such short
notice. It wouldn't really be like real babysitting, Lin. Vicky's almost
fifteen. It's just a formality really. I get paranoid about somebody
dropping me in it about not looking after my daughter properly. It's just
the age we live in, the blame society, any chance to get someone into
trouble."

"I know, I'm frightened to leave my front door sometimes, wondering what's
going to trip me up that particular day. There's always some trap set for
the unwary just so somebody can relieve us of our hard-earned cash."

"That's very cynical, but philosophical nevertheless."

"Yes well, it grinds you down after a while, all this waste disposal police
nonsense, speed cameras, parking fines and clamping in areas not clearly
designated. I hate it. Legalised mugging I call it. Oh sorry, listen to me
rambling on. About tonight... No worries... I've not done it for a while,
but you've got yourself a baby-sitter. Go out and have fun."

Linda had smiled good-naturedly, but felt apprehensive having never met
Jennifer's daughter before and more than a tinge of envy for whomever it
was taking Jennifer out too - some lucky guy she supposed. The thought that
it was more likely a man than a woman was the only consolation.

"Hi. You must be Linda?" A teenage girl with long dark hair and brown eyes
-- just like her mother's - stood in the open doorway. She wore a white
cheesecloth shirt and blue jeans. Her feet were shoeless and tanned. She
was smiling pleasantly, her head cocked coquettishly to one side.

"'Fraid so." Linda smiled. "And you just have to be Vicky -- you're so much
like your mum."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing one way or the other. Come on in. Mummy's
already left. She sends her apologies, but her date changed the
arrangements and she got picked up earlier than expected." Vicky closed the
door behind them. "She's always talking about you. You must get on really
well together."

"Yes we do. But I'm flattered to hear her say so herself... that's sweet of
her."

As they walked into the living room another girl with even darker skin
tones, a Latino with striking red to ginger hair over olive shoulders came
into the sitting room. Her colouring was highly unusual, but stunning. She
was tall and willowy, green-eyed, extremely attractive, as was Vicky in her
own way, she being shorter in stature and more curvy. For a moment Linda
wished she was 15 again and not 40. "This is my friend, Marsha."

"Hi, Marsha, pleased to meet you."

Marsha returned the greeting with a confident and disarming smile. Linda
felt the flurry of butterflies again. She looked from one girl to the
other. "I must admit... I hadn't been expecting to babysit for two."

"Babysit? God, that word sounds so juvenile." Vicky rolled her eyes and
grinned. "Don't worry, we don't bite - do we Marsha?"

"`Course we don't - not to begin with, anyway." The two girls laughed.

Linda's heart did a little leap. She felt suddenly on the back foot. The
confidence of youth could be unsettling for an older person. She tried to
counter Marsha's wit by saying perhaps it should be them keeping an eye on
her, and not the other way round. She couldn't help noticing the
conspiratorial look the girls gave each other when she said this. Or was it
just her fertile imagination?

"Cool," Marsha smiled; her teeth showing flashes of brilliant white behind
the metal braces she wore. She was a true dusky maiden in the first flushes
of youth. A figure still lean and as yet not fully-developed, but it was
easy to imagine the fully-grown woman that would be set free one day,
budding braless breasts visible inside her sleeveless tee-shirt, long
athletic legs emerging from the skimpiest pair of denim shorts Linda had
ever seen. These two were going to be stunners, and even now these two
enchanting and beautiful young women would be capable of breaking the
hardest of hearts, of that she was certain.

"I've just rustled up some popcorn for me and Vicky. Fancy some?" Marsha
may have looked like a dusky maiden from an exotic and romantic island
somewhere in the Pacific, but her accent was definitely East End of London.

"Why not?" said Linda, relaxing a little, but still feeling slightly in awe
of these two young beauties, neither of them yet fifteen.

Why was it young women, particularly young beautiful and intelligent women,
unnerved her, drained her confidence and made her feel like a gibbering
idiot, completely out of touch with the modern world, not to mention dowdy
and old? Perhaps - she told herself - because there was more than an
element of truth in all of that. She knew she scrubbed up pretty well and
wasn't bad-looking for her age, even if she was carrying a few extra pounds
around the middle these days, and she certainly wasn't unintelligent; but
it was easy to be rattled in the company of such vibrant young ladies who
gave an air of confidence and awareness of the world around them. The power
and beauty of youth, it wasn't fair that they should possess wisdom also.

The three settled down in the living room with popcorn and soft drinks,
Linda on the sofa, Marsha in a big black leather recliner - as yet
un-reclined. Vicky stretched out on the carpet and switched on the giant
flat screen TV, flipping through channels with the remote. She found
something that looked interesting and then grabbed a fistful of popcorn. A
scene from an old black and white film flickered on the screen. An escape
artist was hanging upside down in a tank full of water, endeavouring to
free himself from the confines of a straight jacket.

"Hello, what's this?" said Vicky. "This looks a bit more entertaining than
Corrie."

Marsha began to giggle. "Hey, Vicky..? Remember when we tied up that soppy
posh girl last summer, the one who'd been annoying us with all her
`la-di-das' and showing off... the new girl?"

Several kernels of popcorn sputtered through Vicky's lips as she
laughed. "Oh yeah, that's right. No matter how hard she tried, she just
couldn't get loose. It was really funny. In fact it was so funny I almost
wet myself at the time. You should have seen the look on that girl's face,
Linda..."

"What, you mean you two sweet things tied up a poor innocent girl just
because she was posh? I can't believe that of you two."

"Posh and irritating... Honestly, Linda, if you knew her you'd want to do
the same. She's awful, one of those smug know-it-all types, the kind of
person you wish you could slap round the face just for the sheer hell of
it."

"That sounds a bit spiteful. I don't believe you're really like that. Where
did all this supposedly take place?"

"At school," Vicky scooped another mouthful of popcorn. "One lunchtime we
tricked her into the store room of the gymnasium where the equipment was
kept and tied her to that thing they call the horse. It was great fun. You
wouldn't believe the look of surprise on her face when she realised we
meant business. We gagged her with her own knickers and gave her a right
old teasing, taught her a proper lesson. She deserved it, soppy
bitch... Vicky paused to laugh at the memory.

"We made her swear never to say anything about what happened before we let
her go and warned her that we'd make her life hell if she ever told
anyone."

"And?"

"Never said a dickie-bird to anybody. She was careful not to cross us
again."

"I bet she was. You two are quite scary, aren't you? Well, it seems as if
I'm in the company of two very naughty children."

Linda regretted instantly referring to them as children in her attempt to
make light of their spiteful little tale for they glared at her,
contemplating her, unsmiling now, chewing popcorn with a kind of underlying
menace. The momentary silence was unsettling. Linda continued quickly."You
know, when I was little we played Cowboys and Indians. I was always the
white settler woman who got caught by the Indians. The other kids would tie
me up, but I always got loose." She chuckled with strained bravado. "It was
dead easy."

Vicky looked back at Linda with her head propped up on one hand. She began
talking with her mouth full of popcorn: "This sounds interesting... Tell us
more."

"Not much to tell really... But I always managed to escape in the end... a
right little Houdini I was."

"I bet if Marsha and I tied you up you wouldn't get loose in a hurry."

Linda smiled. "I think my days of playing Cowboys and Indians are long
gone, don't you?"

"Oh, just listen to her, Vicky. Anyone would think she's old and past
it. How old are you, anyhow, Linda?"

"Well, you girls certainly aren't backward in coming forward, are you?"

"Come on, how old?" said Vicky. "You know Mummy from adult education
classes, right? So you must be round about the same age?"

"Hmm, give or take a couple of years either way I suppose."

"So yeah, okay, you're pretty ancient right? But you don't look it and you
don't have to act like it. Come on, lighten up -- let's have some fun while
Mummy's out of the way."

"What's the matter, Linda?" said Marsha, now animated and eyes sparking
with mischief. "Scared we might ruin your reputation?"

"Oh no, it's nothing like that -- "

"What then..?"

"It's just that -- "

"Yeah, maybe she's right, Marsha. Maybe she just can't cut it these days."
Vicky turned to Linda, baiting her. "Shame, I'd clocked you for someone who
was up for it. You know, I thought for one minute you were going to rise to
our challenge...you being the great Houdalini, or whatever the name was?"

"Houdini," corrected Linda.

"Yeah, that's the one. Okay, so prove it. Dare to accept our challenge. You
reckon you could wriggle out of our knots and ties? Let's put you to the
test."

"Okay, okay... You win."

Vicky sat up, a look of devilment in her eyes. "You mean... you'll do it?"

"Yes, yes, all right -- why not? You girls seem determined to get me to try
it."

"Good for you. That's more like it. I'll get the things together."

Linda sipped her drink. "Ahem... before you rush off, Vicky... There's just
one condition -- you can tie me up with anything but rope. Rope burns can
be nasty."

"We don't have any rope in the house. Me and Marsha don't make a habit of
this you know. Mum's got some old stockings in her drawer upstairs. I'll go
up and get them." Vicky gave Linda a slightly mocking look. "Don't
worry. We're both very gentle -- honest!"

Linda's tummy did little summersaults and her heart started beating
rapidly. How had she allowed herself be talked into this? Still, what harm
could there possibly be in a little game of `Cowboys and Indians' with such
sweet (or maybe not so sweet after all) girls?

Vicky turned the television set off and went off upstairs to her mother's
bedroom. In less than a minute she was back with two pairs of stockings, a
seamed black pair, and a tatty pair of `fishnets'.

Linda sat forward on the sofa and offered her wrists. "Okay girls," she
said, "let's do it."

"Now there's an invitation we can't refuse," said Vicky, taking one
stocking and wrapping it tightly around Linda's wrists and securing them
with what she thought was her best knot.

Linda wriggled her arms around and around and back and forth for a couple
of minutes and managed to free herself.

"See," said Linda, smirking "Eazi-peezi. You'll have to do better than
that, girls."

"Hmm, not bad," Vicky exclaimed.

"Let me try." Marsha said, taking the stocking from Linda, who once again
offered up her wrists willingly. Marsha looped the nylon around and between
Linda's wrists in criss-cross fashion, her little pointy tongue tracing
along her bottom lip in concentration. She finished with a double knot,
stepped back and admired her handiwork.

"There you are clever-clogs -- get out of that one then!"

It took Linda a couple of minutes longer, but just as a satisfied grin
began to form on Marsha's face, Linda again freed herself.

"Told you, didn't I? It's too easy for me."

"Okay," Vicky said. "We'll try it one more time. But this time, why don't
you sit in the recliner? You'll be much more comfortable."

"All right then... why not?" Linda smiled, believing she now held the upper
hand and stepped over to the recliner and snuggled down into it. "Don't
know why you should want me to sit in the recliner, it won't make any
difference. I'll still get free." She felt a little more confident now.

"We'll see," Vicky said, stepping behind the back of the recliner. "Give me
your hands." A little edge had crept into her voice.

Linda raised her hands over her head and Vicky pulled them back behind the
woman's head, again wrapping the stocking tightly around Linda's wrists. As
she did this she looked at her friend and nodded at Linda's legs. Marsha
caught on immediately and grabbed a fishnet stocking. This time there
seemed to be more intent and purpose in the way the two girls went about
their task.

As Marsha approached Linda, Vicky pulled Linda's arms toward her, yanking
her back. Linda's weight against the back of the recliner forced it to open
out, and the footrest brought her legs up.

"Hey!" said Linda, startled. "What's going on?"

"Relax," Marsha said, swiftly winding the fishnet stocking around her bare
ankles. "We're just making sure you're comfortable... and secure of
course."

"Now wait a minute," Linda protested, "You young ladies are going too far
now. I thought this was meant to be a game"

"It is," said Vicky. "That's all it is, just a game. Stop worrying. We're
not going to hurt you."

Linda tried to lift herself up, but Vicky had already stretched the nylon
down and was tying the end to the rear base of the recliner, pinning back
Linda's bare biceps on either side of her head. Marsha quickly bound
Linda's ankles together, brought the loose end of the stocking down beneath
the footrest and, stretching the nylon tautly and fastening it to the
connecting rods. The hem of Linda's frock now lay askew halfway up her
sun-pinked fair-skinned thighs.

When both girl

s were done they stepped back to admire their handiwork. Linda struggled
against her bonds for a good few moments, but with every hopeless yank and
wriggle, so the girls' smiles of triumph widened that little bit more. This
time, Linda really was bound and secure and a look of bewilderment began to
cloud her features. Their little plan had worked better than they could
have ever hoped.

"See?" Marsha grinned.

"Told you we could do it," Vicky agreed, dusting her hands together with
mock satisfaction.

Linda's face began to redden. Then after two more minutes of intensive and
futile struggling, during which time the two schoolgirls relished every
nuance of Linda's squirming, she finally admitted defeat to her two
captors.

"Okay, girls, you've made your point. You have me well and truly
bound. Your knots are very good this time. I can't get free... I admit
defeat. Well done, you win! Now you can untie me."

Vicky laughed, derisively. "No way, sister!"

"Oh, come on, Vicky don't be mean; you've made your point and had your
fun."

"After all the trouble we've gone to get you in this position we're hardly
likely to free you for a while, won't you? yet. We've got the house to
ourselves and the best is still to come. You'll be okay like that for a
while, I promise you... and you look so comfortable lying there... kind of
sexy too... in a kinky way."

"Oh I see, so you're going to keep me captive the whole evening now, are
you?" Linda tried to hide her mounting trepidation.

Neither of the girls said anything at that point. They just smiled
gloatingly over Linda's wriggling but helpless body, watching the quickened
agitated rise and fall of her creamy-topped breasts. Vicky noticed Linda's
shoes had slipped off her heels and were dangling on her toes from her
constant writhing. She reached down, placed her index finger behind the
heel of Linda's left shoe and nonchalantly flicked it off.

"Oops!" she said. "How on earth did that happen?"

"Stop it!"

"Oh dear," Vicky giggled. "Looks like you've lost something." She reached
down again and flicked off Linda's other shoe. "And oh my goodness... look,
there goes the other one. Never mind, you won't need them for a while."
There was a sinister quality to Vicky's voice that was slightly worrying to
Linda now.

Linda began to catch on what this was leading up to. "Put my shoes back on,
please."

Vicky nudged her friend and winked. Marsha grinned back, and the two knelt
on the floor on either side of the footrest. Vicky studied Linda's bare
soles. The skin on her arches and beneath her toes was pale and soft. A
slightly humid, cream cheese odour wafted from them. Linda's bare soles.

"Your feet are a bit pongy, Linda. Do you think they need a wash?"

"I beg your pardon, you cheeky little madam," said Linda.

"Must be the hot weather," said Marsha. But never mind, they're pretty
little things. We shall have lots of fun with them."

"You're very pale, aren't you?" said Vicky. "I mean your skin
colouring. Your legs look rather pink and sore in places too. Do you burn
in the sun?"

"Yes," said Linda. I have very fair skin. I have to be careful."

"You know," continued Vicky. "Marsha's right. You do have pretty little
feet so I suppose we can forgive you the pong. They are just crying out for
some attention though, aren't they?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Yes," agreed Marsha. "They are rather cute actually... just begging to be
tickled, aren't they?"

"Shhh... don't give the game away," Vicky giggled.

"Oh no," said Linda. "Please... not that..."

"I think we're in for an enjoyable evening," said Marsha. "What time do you
think your mum'll get home?"

"Not for ages yet. Don't worry... we've got plenty of time."

These were not words Linda wanted to hear. "C'mon, girls... let me go," She
sensed the growing apprehension in the sound of her own voice.

"Shut up," said Vicky. "You're our prisoner now. You can't tell us what to
do. You must be a good girl for us."

Vicky stroked her fingers lightly across Linda's left foot and felt the
older woman's whole body spasm instantly. "Hmm, you are twitchy, aren't
you?" She was fascinated at the way the skin around Linda's ankles rucked
and crinkled as they twisted, jerked and strained against their
bonds. Vicky felt warm inside. Why was tormenting someone who was unable to
fight back so much fun... especially a babysitter?

"We've been studying the history of the Pacific Islands in geography at
school," continued Vicky. "And I've learned something quite interesting."

Linda expelled a resigned sigh, thinking it best just to play along, humour
them and hope they would in turn be lenient with her. "And just what might
that be?"

"I read that in the Pacific islands, when the tribes went to war with each
other, they would torture their prisoners. The men would torture the male
prisoners, and the women would do the female prisoners..."

"Vicky," Linda warned nervously, "this isn't funny anymore, dear. I really
think you'd better let me go, before you do something you might regret."

"And the men used all kinds of nasty tortures on the male prisoners, like
burning them with hot coals, or burying them up to their necks on the beach
and waiting for the tide to come in. But do you know how the women tortured
their female captives?"

"Vicky, please... I'm warning you."

"I'll tell you, shall I? They tickled their feet. Tickled and tickled until
the poor victim either went mad or became unconscious...sometimes
both. Isn't that fascinating?"

Linda's eyes widened. "Vicky, Marsha! Please, no, anything but that. I
couldn't bear to be tickled. I think you had your fun now, so please stop."

As if mirroring each other in mind and body, each girl brought one hand
toward each of Linda's bare feet and began to gently caress the soles,
gliding their fingers very lightly up and down, down and up. Linda bucked,
yanking frantically at the nylons binding her wrists and ankles. She didn't
find this treatment at all funny. She clamped her eyes shut, shaking her
head from side to side, burying her face into her stretched biceps, trying
with all her willpower to endure the terrible tickling sensations on the
soles of her feet. "Stop..! Stop it! It tickles!"

The two girls ignored Linda's pleas and kept on tickling while Vicky went
on with her history lesson: "Yep, they would just tickle their feet, very
slowly and very lightly, just like this, all over...It's just amazing how
differently people respond to a good tickling."

Vicky slowly glided her fingertips across Linda's right sole, around the
outer edge of her foot, and began to gently stroke the top of her foot,
from the tops of the toes to the ankle, while Marsha continued to softly
caress Linda's inner left sole with the soft pads of her fingertips, up and
down, down and up. Linda finally gave in to a smile.

"Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee. Stop it. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee. You're killing
me. Please stop..! This isn't funny."

"Oh sure," goaded Marsha. "That's why you're laughing so much is it? I
think you're enjoying it."

No matter how much Linda wiggled her feet, Vicky and Marsha kept stroking
up and down the soles of the woman's feet, never faltering in their
technique, always lightly running fingertips from the ball of the foot
slowly down the sole, along the arch and edge of the foot, down to the
heel, and then slowly back up again, gently, almost with loving care and
attention.

Vicky then ran the fingertips of her right hand up and down the top of
Linda's right foot several more times before gliding them up over the tips
of the toes and back down to the sole, stopping just at the top of the
arch. She then began to wiggle her fingertips there, slowly, lightly
teasing the skin's nerve endings.

Linda began to laugh louder now. "Sto-hah-hah-hah-hah!
Plea-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-heese!" Then, almost hysterically, "Let me go,
this has gone far enough, girls. What would your m-mother -- agghh - think,
Vicky? Larking around with an older woman?"

"Well, we won't say anything if you won't," Vicky laughed, cruelly. "Now
just relax and enjoy the rest of it."

"Enjoy it? Is that what you think? You're killing me."

Vicky continued her story while she and Marsha tickled away remorselessly.

"Could you imagine being one of those women being tortured, Linda? Having
two women, or maybe even three or four, tickling non-stop all over your
poor defenceless body?"

With that, Vicky brought her left hand up and began to lightly wiggle her
fingertips along the skin on the top of Linda's right foot while the
fingertips of her right hand wiggled just as slowly and lightly and
fiendishly along Linda's right sole.

"And they would never stop, Linda," Vicky said. "If the women tickling you
got tired or bored, there was always someone else to take their place. They
would just tickle and tickle and tickle... Terribly wicked, weren't they?"

Marsha followed suit, tickling with both hands on the left side, flicking
all of her fingertips just a bit more quickly, but just as lightly and
teasingly, on every bit of skin, all over the sole and top of Linda's left
foot. Linda was in hysterics now, guffawing and thrashing as wildly as her
bonds would allow, pleading and begging the girls to stop tickling her feet
whenever she could stop her laughing for a second.

"Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah! Sto-hah-hah-hah-hah-hahp! It
ti-hi-hi-hi-hicles... you're k-killing me!"

"She's getting a bit noisy," said Vicky. "I think we'd better gag her just
to be on the safe side. Don't want the neighbours getting nosey."

"I agree," said Marsha. "What with?"

"Just a minute, I know." Vicky went back upstairs and returned with two
items -- a pair of panty hose and knickers. "This'll do. I got these from
the laundry basket in Mum's room -- her dirty washing."

"Oh, brilliant!" cooed Marsha. "That's really clever of you... well done,
Vicks."

Vicky proceeded, despite Linda's vociferous protests, to pinch Linda's nose
closed until her mouth came open and then she stuffed the panties inside
and wound the tights twice around her head, and across her mouth to keep
the gag in place. Then she knotted the leggings behind Linda's head,
ensuring that she could breathe properly. Vicky said: "There we are,
ladies... job done." She contemplated Linda from her lofty position of
chief tormentor, standing astride and over her, feet planted firmly either
side of the recliner. Linda could see the teenager's jeans stretching
tightly across her pubis. Oh God, such delicious, naughty torture.

Vicky made some minor adjustments to the gag and then stared into Linda's
eyes with mischievous intent. "Now we can tickle you until our hearts'
content..." She crossed her arms against her breasts and held her head
high, "...and quell the storms of lust within our souls."

"Victoria..? That is so profound, so poetic... pure Shakespeare," said
Marsha."

"I know. I told you I'm a genius."

"One might say... an evil genius, sweetie."

The girls cackled together like a couple of witches in a coven and as if to
affirm and consummate their mischievous intent the two girls performed a
long and teasing kiss right in front of Linda, their eyes coming open at
different times to see if Linda was watching. She felt hot, angry and
envious at the naughty minxes' deliberate and calculated play-act, designed
to make her feel all squirmy and unnecessary.

The air hissed through Linda's flaring nostrils and her grey eyes widened
in disbelief. The girls smiled at each other, enjoying their hapless
victim's disquiet for a moment before kissing again - little pecks on the
lips this time - and then they took up their positions of torturer and
assistant again, either side of Linda's feet.

The two girls were merciless now, continuing for a further full five
minutes. The lightness of their touch never wavered. Both girls never
allowed their fingertips to do any more than brush teasingly across the
skin. The two girls ignored Linda's muffled screams and hysterical
laughter, and her indecipherable entreaties for mercy. In fact, they were
having a ball and Linda's distress only seemed to fire them with sadism all
the more.

Then, just as Linda thought she would surely go mad, or at least lose
control of her bladder, the tickling stopped.

"I think she's had enough," said Vicky. We ought to let her have a rest now
so she can recover. She looks pretty whacked."

Linda's head was still thrashing inanely from side to side.

The two girls noticed that their hands were trembling and their hearts
banging. They looked at each other in tacit agreement. It really was time
to stop the tickle torture.

"I'd better go and make us some more drinks," said Vicky, and went out to
the kitchen.

Marsha stayed with Linda and thought how flushed she looked. Her head was
still now, but she was moaning incoherently behind the gag. She got to her
feet and began soothing Linda's brow, calming her down. "Are you okay,
Linda?"

Linda nodded. Thank God, thought Marsha, worried they really had
overstepped the mark.

Vicky brought in three fruit juices on a tray with ice chinking in the
glasses. She set it down and removed the gag, "Sorry I had to do this. We
had to keep you quiet. Here..." Vicky picked up the half-full glass from
the tray and held it to Linda's numb lips. Some of the juice ran down her
chin until the feeling came back to her lips.

"Thanks. Are you going to untie me now?"

"In a minute. I want you to make a few promises to us first. We won't
tickle you anymore if you keep quiet about this. I'm sorry if we overdid
it. I don't know what got into us. Please don't tell on us. You won't, will
you? Mummy will go spare."

Linda sighed heavily. "I'm very angry at you two. And I was worried because
I was losing my self-control. But I won't say anything to your mother. I
wouldn't like you to think I was a total killjoy. I'd like us to be friends
if anything."

Vicky leaned forward and kissed Linda on the cheek. "Thanks, Linda. I'm
really sorry if we went too far. Now before we release you there's
something I need to know."

"Go on."

"Well, like I've already said... Mummy really likes you, in fact... she
fancies you like mad to be honest. God, she'd kill me if she ever knew I
said that."

"What's this leading up to, Vicky?"

"She's just not sure you feel the same about her. She actually likes women
more than men?"

"My goodness, you don't beat about the bush, do you, Vicky?"

"So I want to find out for myself. Do you like her?"

"Of course, she's a good friend."

"But do you kind of more than just like her, I mean?"

"What are you implying?"

"I know that Mum feels strongly about you. We do talk. She was kind of
hoping you were the same way, but was scared of making a move on you
because she didn't want to offend you and risk losing your friendship."

"Oh, Vicky... if you only knew. I don't know what to say."

"Perhaps you shouldn't say anything. Maybe I should find out whether you
fancy women by giving you the ultimate test."

And before Linda could answer, Vicky leaned forward and kissed her lips
briefly but tenderly. Marsha watched fascinated, and sipped her drink.

"Well?" said Vicky.

"I didn't expect that."

"But did you like it?"

"It was lovely."

"So, would you like me to kiss you again?"

"What do you think?"

And again the girl kissed the woman. Linda felt Vicky's tongue this time,
more intent and sensual, prodding, seeking entrance. Linda opened her mouth
and accepted the sweet, slippery intrusion. The butterflies took flight
again. When Vicky finally drew back, Linda was breathing hard and
passionately.

"Mmm," said Vicky. "I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss an
older woman, maybe not one quite as old as my mum though."

"Thanks, Vicky. You have a certain way with words."

"Sorry, didn't mean it to sound like that."

"How was it for you?"

"Amazing... so different, so sensual and sexy. Especially with you tied
down and helpless. Sorry."

"God, I'd almost forgotten," said Linda. "Isn't it about time you-"

"Oh I see," said Marsha, interrupting, "so I'm not good enough now, am I,
Vicky?" There was a good-humoured smile on her face.

"'Course you are, Marsha. I love you. But this is different somehow."

"Can I have a try?" said Marsha.

"Linda?" said Vicky, raising her eyebrows to her babysitter.

"Why not? Trussed up like a turkey I'm hardly in a position to say no, am
I?"

And so Marsha swapped places with Vicky and had her turn, while Vicky
watched. Linda thought all her birthdays had come at once. Marsha had a
firmer, more urgent feel to her kissing, as if she was trying to make an
impression. These girls were so hungry and eager in their kissing, not
subtle at all. Subtlety would come with maturity. Linda could feel the
metal wire of Marsha's braces as she explored her mouth with her
tongue. She could also feel the moistening activity between her
legs. Please don't let them find out, she thought to herself. Don't you
dare peep up my dress and discover the truth, you little madams. My white
cotton panties will give me away. What a day this was turning out to be
after all.

Vicky untied Linda and both girls helped her over to the sofa where they
soothed and placated her. They sat either side of her, taking turns to kiss
and embrace Vicky's mother's friend.

Vicky said: "You must babysit us again, Linda. Promise me you will."

"Do you think that's wise after what I've been through?"

"We had so much fun. It's much better than when Gran sits with me. She's a
wet blanket... always wants to send me off to bed early."

"Maybe she's got the right idea."

"Please say you will."

"Okay, how can I refuse? But surely that depends on your mother?"

"Leave her to me. And maybe next time we can explore further."

"Explore further..?"

Suddenly Vicky had jumped up and gone to the window. "Oh no, I thought I
heard a car arrive. Mum's back already. Quick we've got to get cleared up,
just hide the clothing under the cushions for now and I'll put the recliner
back."

Fortunately, Jennifer stayed in the car chatting for ten minutes before she
came in. By that time everything was cleared away properly and everyone was
composed, sort of, although Linda was still tingling from head to toe with
excitement. Had what happened really happened? And was the way now open for
her and Jennifer to get together, now Linda knew how Jennifer really felt
about her?

"Everything okay, everyone?" Jennifer breezed in, everyone trying their
best to appear normal. "The film we went to see finished earlier than
expected. Sorry to leave you with an extra one, Lin. Hope you didn't mind
too much."

"They behaved impeccably, Jen," said Linda, "such sweet girls. They were no
trouble at all."

"We want Linda to babysit us again," Vicky said.

"What about Linda? How does she feel about it?"

"You only have to ask, Jenny... anytime. It will be a pleasure."

"We're just going upstairs to play some music, Mum," said Vicky.

"Are you staying tonight, Marsha?" said Jennifer.

"If that's all right, Mrs Palmer."

"That's fine. Just let your parents know." She sat down next to Linda on
the sofa.

Vicky smiled at Linda on her way out the door and Linda silently mouthed
"Thank you" to her. Marsha followed her out the door and Linda saw her feel
Vicky's bottom. There was giggling going up the stairs.

"Girls," said Jennifer. "What are they like."

Linda had plenty to say on that subject, but thought it best to keep it to
herself. "How was your date?"

"Fine, it's just a male friend I go out with now and again. Nothing in
it... he likes writing too. We talk, that's all. He critiques my work
sometimes."

"I think there's something you should know," said Linda, feeling for
Jennifer's hand. Mrs Palmer looked surprised but did not take her hand
away. She was quite happy to reciprocate the gesture of friendship and
sensed that somehow a door had been opened for them and that the day and
probably the future, especially for Linda, held much more promise now than
it had this morning.