Okay, so here's one of my experiences...it's quite brief, but I still think about it today, some 7 years after it happened...
I'd been working with Robbie for around three years at the time, and we got along really well. I'd always been curious about his potential ticklishness, but had never come even close to even mentioning the 't' word around him. He was three years younger than me (I was 32 at the time), with short dirty blonde hair which he kept very well maintained, a 'tache and goatee beard. We would often banter with each other at work but, as I said, the 't' word never entered our conversations.
It was early summer, and I had recently moved into a new house, so threw the obligatory housewarming party, to which I invited several work colleagues, but no family (we were never close). Obviously Robbie was invited, and I seem to remember he arrived later than most, dressed in a dark polo shirt, jeans and red Converse shoes.
The party was great, with most guests not leaving until the early hours. In fact I believe Robbie, alongside one of my close girl friends, was the last guest remaining. We hadn't consumed huge amounts of alcohol, and were enjoying just sharing stories and jokes. Robbie and my friend were sitting on my sofa, and I was sitting on the floor, my back against the sofa, close to Robbie's legs. The conversation turned, I believe, to talking about clothes, and Robbie mentioned his favourite item were the jeans he was wearing. For some reason, I took this as a cue to take the cuff of one of the legs of his jeans and lift it slightly. He looked at me and said "Did you notice, I've worn fancy socks for you tonight?" I kind of froze at that question. Why did he mention his socks? Why did he think I'd be interested? Whatever my thoughts were, I instinctively lifted his cuff a little higher, as if to inspect his socks. For the record, they were ankle length, grey and covered in a red star pattern.
"Oh yes, so you did!" I eventually answered. "Let's have a proper look then..."
I quickly tugged his loosely tied Converse off, revealing that his socks also had red toes.
"See?" he said, wiggling his socked toes.
It was too good an opportunity to miss, and I quickly scribbled my fingers in the middle of his sole. He pulled his foot away immediately and yelped.
"No no no," he said. "I'm really ticklish!"
I looked up at my girl friend and said "Hold him for me!"
She laughed and lay across Robbie's lap, pinning him in his seat. I grabbed his socked foot again and began scribbling more, up and down his sole. He immediately broke into deep laughter, protesting and trying to pull it away.
"My feet are really ticklish" I remember him exclaiming. "Stop, please!!"
His laughter was delicious, deep belly laughs mixed with high pitched squeals. He threw his head back, almost as if he'd resigned himself to the situation.
Possibly predictably, I soon tugged off his other shoe (despite his loud protests), locked his ankles under one arm, and proceeded to rake and scribble my nails over every inch of his socked feet. His laughter became almost silent as he tried to protect one foot with the other, curling and flexing his toes.
"No please STOP it! Not my feet!" he cried, almost breathlessly. "I can't take it, PLEEEEASE!!"
My girl friend halted proceedings, getting up from Robbie's lap, enabling him to tug his feet free, still giggling. He reached for his shoes and sighed.
"Ah man, nobody's tickled my feet in ages," he said. "I'm so bloody ticklish!"
We all laughed and continued our chat as he pulled his shoes back on. I, of course, was on a post-tickling high!
We worked together for a further couple of years, until I changed jobs, and never spoke specifically about the incident. However, as part of our banter I would often say something like "Don't annoy me now, I know how to get you back!" and he'd giggle and respond with a "No, not that!" or something similar.
Not a huge occurrence I know, but I enjoyed it, and it's a fond memory I have.
