This one is another request from TMF user Anarcotic. (Anarcotic is giving me occasion to try out some story ideas that normally I wouldn't take on myself.)
As usual, remember that we writers live for feedback. Let me know what you think!
KI
Two Weeks’ Notice (mm/f)
by
Kid Indy
Russ started mumbling under his breath. “Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap.”
Ben, getting ready to walk out the door of the apartment, stopped and looked at his roommate hunched over his phone.
“What’s up with you?”
“We hit it, man.”
“What?”
“The Mega Millions. We hit it, man!”
Ben ran across the apartment. “You were still buying those tickets?”
“Yeah, man! Dallas Cowboys Hall of Fame all the way!”
Ben looked at the printed ticket, then at the computer screen, then back. “Hall of Fame all the way…” He had no idea that his roommate had still been ending his shifts at the gas station with that purchase, much less that he kept planning to share the spoils. He grabbed Russ’s shoulder. “We never have to go back to BP again, man!”
Russ looked backwards at his roommate and grinned. “No, man. Let’s turn in our two weeks. I want to work one more shift with Jessica.”
* * * * * * *
Within a day they had retained a lawyer and made sure that each of them got the maximum after-tax payout, an annual payment that would set them for life, the first coming in a week. They also negotiated a delay in revealing their identities and the obligatory photography.
Each approached Glen, their regional manager, about working two more weeks at the gas station, telling him something vague about another opportunity coming up. Not many people work at gas stations for very long, so Glen willingly signed their papers and let Jessica, the local manager, know to put up help-wanted signs.
Russ’s last shift, two days after Ben’s, would be on a Thursday night, and he and Jessica would be closing down the gas station at midnight and going off the clock at 1 AM.
* * * * * * *
“You’ve got to be kidding, right? I wouldn’t believe that anyone would hire one of you morons, much less that you’d find two suckers in the same week!”
Russ leaned over the counter, resting his elbows and belly as he looked on. “You know, Jess, if you keep sweet-talking me, I’m going to start thinking you’ll miss me!” He took in the sight in the convenience store: Jessica always wore leggings to work along with her long button-down BP shirt, and as she bent down to restock the bottom row of candy, the lines of her long legs ran right up into the curves of her bottom.
Jessica looked back, saw him leering, and turned towards him before she bent down again to keep stocking the shelf. “I don’t give you two weeks before your new manager puts you out on the street. Without Glen to protect you, nobody’s going to keep you or Ben around.” She stepped away from the bottom shelf and towards the cashier’s counter. “So where did you say this was again?”
“Didn’t!”
“Are you leaving town?”
Russ made a smooch-face at his manager. “Aww. I really do think you’re going to miss me!”
Jessica rolled her eyes and started checking the rest of the store for closing time. There were only ten minutes to go until she locked the door, and on a weeknight, nobody was going to be walking in at this point. Jessica rounded the corner to the gas station’s small office, where her bookbag lay, and silently congratulated herself for getting her homework done before she came to work. One more semester and she would be done with her MBA, and she could get out of this loser gas station and on to real work. “Alright, Ben. I’m going to start running reports and printing out credit card receipts. Bring the drawer back here after you lock the front door. And let’s try to get the count right for once, just to see if you can do something new on your last night.”
She sat down and started printing the long tapes of paper that would go into the safe before she could go home. She heard the jingle of the front glass door and caught the convenience store’s lights going down out of the corner of her eye.
Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a sight that she had not expected.
“Hey, Jess, I’m just going to take this home as a parting gift, alright?”
She looked up from her nightly report to see Russ, not Ben, holding up an eighteen-pack of Heineken cans.
“Put those down! You’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Nah. I’ll just head out the back here.” He disappeared from the door’s frame, and Jessica immediately stood up and gave chase. As she rounded the corner, he stood with his back to the gas station’s locked back door. “Aw, come on, Jess! You need to lighten up. Life can be funny!”
Jessica pointed an angry finger at him, but before she could utter another word, two hands grabbed her sides and squeezed, and she let out a scream of alarm. She twisted and tried to elbow the body behind her, who she soon enough identified as Ben, but he caught her arm and held it as Russ, who had dropped the beer, lunged forward with two greedy claws and grasped at her belly. Her hands dropped to defend herself, and she felt Ben’s hands slide up under her arms, wriggling and digging for her armpits. And as the three tumbled to the storage room’s floor, she heard the most terrifying thing she could have in that moment: her own mouth starting to laugh as their hands flew from ticklish spot to ticklish spot.
“Oh my god! Stop it!”
Then a peal of laughter as Ben kept tickling under her arms.
“I’m calling the police!”
Russ, whose hands had slid under her body to squeeze the wonderful bottom that both of the boys had looked at so many times, laughed at the threat. “You always leave your phone on the desk when you run reports. We’ve got you in here, Jess!”
She twisted hard to one side, and they let her roll over. Ben’s hands found easy handles on her ribs as she lay prone, and Russ began to squeeze the backs of her knees, which made her rump dance as she tried to kick away. He grinned at his accomplice. “I told you she’d be ticklish!”
Jessica tried to push herself up off the floor, but the tickling had already weakened her, and she could only squeal and laugh on the floor as their hands continued their frenzied work. When Ben felt her attempting to rise, he lifted her himself, grabbing her wrists as she rolled onto her back and pulling her arms up above her head. His legs wrapped around her chest, and she could not put her arms down. She could feel Russ start to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, starting with the bottom.
“No! No! Stop! I’m going to have you both thrown in jail!”
Russ’s eyes came up from her shirt-buttons and locked hers. “Come on, Jess! You’re so tense here! Have a few laughs with us!” She felt his fingertips start to wander around on her belly, and she reached over Ben’s legs to try to grab Russ’s arms. But as her own arms came up from her sides, Ben’s hands were once more under her arms, and she could do nothing but flail as she heard herself start to laugh again. Ben kept working that familiar flesh under her arms while Russ played the explorer, circling her navel and scratching along the line where her leggings met her belly and pinching her sides all the way up to the start of her ribs. They tickled her until she lost track of where she was, when it was, and then Ben released his scissor-lock and let her slump to the floor. Russ quickly shimmied forward, sitting on his haunches astride her midsection while Ben stood up and walked behind Russ, towards her legs. She reached up to push Russ off, but he was bigger than she was, and they really had worn her out with tickling. He collected both her wrists in one big hand and held them against the floor above her head.
Jessica regained her breath and tried to threaten again. “I’m going to to the police with this. You two are never getting out!”
Russ, in her face, whispered, “We know there’s no camera back here. We’re not going to hurt you--we just always wanted to see how ticklish you can get!”
Ben piped up from behind them. “Are you two done already? I want to see what these legs can do!” She felt two thumbs and two forefingers grasp her legs just above the knee, ready to squeeze.
“NO!”
She could smell Russ’s cologne as her laughter erupted. She had nowhere to go--even though he was supporting himself, his body weight was directly on top of her--and Ben’s fingers squeezed her knees over and over, making her squeal with each pinch and driving her out of her mind as she pulled in vain against Russ’s grip. Russ, who still had a hand free, began tickling one armpit as Ben’s hands began to wander to her inner thighs. Her screams of protest did not last long before the unstopping touches reduced her to a bubbling giggle, and both of her former coworkers tickled with renewed energy as they heard her will break. They tickled for what seemed an eternity before they stopped, and Russ rolled off of her, and both stood up as she curled up, then sat up.
Ben was the first to speak. “See? We didn’t hurt you, just like we said. And we want to make this up to you.”
Jessica, still panting, just gave a confused look.
Russ spoke up. “You see, our new job is with a concert promoter in town, and we’ve got three extra front-row tickets for Taylor Swift’s show tomorrow.”
Jessica’s face, which the tickling had turned into an open book, reeled from the conflict. They knew--because she had told them--that she could never afford those tickets with graduate school and her other bills. And they knew--because she had told them--that she was an all-out Swiftie. She would do anything to get to that concert. And she could feel her drive to be at that show, in the front row, overcoming her hatred of her idiot employees.
“They’re really front row?”
“Yep. You would just have to pick two of your friends to take, then we’ll meet you out in front of the stadium tomorrow.” He held the tickets in front of her, and they were real.
“Okay, I’ll take them.”
Now it was Russ’s turn to talk. “One small price. You take your shoes and socks off, and you offer one foot--as a gift--to each of us. No fighting, no resistance. Just lay your feet in our laps and let us tickle as long as we’d like.”
Her face turned red as she realized that, once again, they had made her choice for her. There was no telling whether TS would come out their way any time in the near future. She leaned forward and began untying one of her shoes.
Ben and Russ looked at each other and nearly gave each other a high-five. But they also knew this was an opportunity that wasn’t going to stick around. Russ grabbed the coat that they kept by the freezer and rolled it into a makeshift pillow for Jessica to rest her head on. Ben took each shoe and each sock from her and placed them neatly at her side. Then both boys sat themselves down in front of her and licked their lips as she extended each leg into their laps and leaned back to rest her head on the rolled-up jacket.
Ben started first, his eager fingertips running up and down the length of her long sole and drawing giggles from her. Russ shuffled himself to the side so that her calf lay across his lap and secured her leg under his arm before he laid in at full speed, his fingers scrabbling over her skin and drawing her squeal again. Ben likewise shifted but occupied himself pushing his fingertips between her toes and wriggling them, ecstatic as he felt her leg try to kick him away.
With her hands free but her resistance forbidden, Jessica’s hands covered her face in embarrassment as the two dorks whom she had mocked over the months reduced her to a giggling girl. Whenever one of them found an especially ticklish run, her hips instinctively turned into the skid, and without exchanging a word, all three knew that the two were competing to get the best body-squirm out of their writhing, ticklish ex-boss. Her hands started slapping the floor on either side of her, but no referee came to her rescue: they really did intend to tickle her into oblivion, and she stayed and let them do just that, a prize beyond her reach waiting if only her ticklish feet and her laughing belly could hold out.
When they finally stopped, she simply rolled onto her side to breathe and hide her face from them for a moment. They gave her shoes and socks back without any further torment, and the three of them returned to the gas station’s office to finish evening reports and to drop them in the safe before they all three left the station.
* * * * * * *
The photographers were professional but not rude as they prepared Ben and Russ for the photo shoot. Ben periodically looked at his phone and at the photo, two days ago, of the five of them outside the stadium, all smiles and friendliness. He scrolled through photos of himself and his lottery-winning co-conspirator giving Beth and Ellen, Jessica’s friends from graduate school, alcohol-fueled and playful rib-tickles during breaks between sets, and he marveled at their ability to catch them just as their jumping squirms carried them off of one foot.
If Jessica went to the press or anyone else now with stories of tickling, they would simply show the photos and insist that it was all part of the ways they played when they hung out--nobody would have anything to say about it. Ben only wished that he could see Jessica’s face when she realized that her two favorite idiots were not working for a concert venue but that they would never work for anyone else ever again.
Russ had finished his individual shoot, and they were setting up backdrops for Ben’s. Russ’s hands were already gesturing wildly--another of his grand ideas was coming to him.
“Ben, I just had this idea--you know how hookers are legal in Nevada, right? What’s the PC word for that?”
Russ grinned. “Sex work.”
“What if we took some of our money and set it up in stocks, like that lawyer told us, but then went out there and started up a side business, but instead of sex, we-- you know--”
Ben motioned for him to keep his volume down. The photographer called his name out. He got ready for his own photographs.
As usual, remember that we writers live for feedback. Let me know what you think!
KI
Two Weeks’ Notice (mm/f)
by
Kid Indy
Russ started mumbling under his breath. “Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap.”
Ben, getting ready to walk out the door of the apartment, stopped and looked at his roommate hunched over his phone.
“What’s up with you?”
“We hit it, man.”
“What?”
“The Mega Millions. We hit it, man!”
Ben ran across the apartment. “You were still buying those tickets?”
“Yeah, man! Dallas Cowboys Hall of Fame all the way!”
Ben looked at the printed ticket, then at the computer screen, then back. “Hall of Fame all the way…” He had no idea that his roommate had still been ending his shifts at the gas station with that purchase, much less that he kept planning to share the spoils. He grabbed Russ’s shoulder. “We never have to go back to BP again, man!”
Russ looked backwards at his roommate and grinned. “No, man. Let’s turn in our two weeks. I want to work one more shift with Jessica.”
* * * * * * *
Within a day they had retained a lawyer and made sure that each of them got the maximum after-tax payout, an annual payment that would set them for life, the first coming in a week. They also negotiated a delay in revealing their identities and the obligatory photography.
Each approached Glen, their regional manager, about working two more weeks at the gas station, telling him something vague about another opportunity coming up. Not many people work at gas stations for very long, so Glen willingly signed their papers and let Jessica, the local manager, know to put up help-wanted signs.
Russ’s last shift, two days after Ben’s, would be on a Thursday night, and he and Jessica would be closing down the gas station at midnight and going off the clock at 1 AM.
* * * * * * *
“You’ve got to be kidding, right? I wouldn’t believe that anyone would hire one of you morons, much less that you’d find two suckers in the same week!”
Russ leaned over the counter, resting his elbows and belly as he looked on. “You know, Jess, if you keep sweet-talking me, I’m going to start thinking you’ll miss me!” He took in the sight in the convenience store: Jessica always wore leggings to work along with her long button-down BP shirt, and as she bent down to restock the bottom row of candy, the lines of her long legs ran right up into the curves of her bottom.
Jessica looked back, saw him leering, and turned towards him before she bent down again to keep stocking the shelf. “I don’t give you two weeks before your new manager puts you out on the street. Without Glen to protect you, nobody’s going to keep you or Ben around.” She stepped away from the bottom shelf and towards the cashier’s counter. “So where did you say this was again?”
“Didn’t!”
“Are you leaving town?”
Russ made a smooch-face at his manager. “Aww. I really do think you’re going to miss me!”
Jessica rolled her eyes and started checking the rest of the store for closing time. There were only ten minutes to go until she locked the door, and on a weeknight, nobody was going to be walking in at this point. Jessica rounded the corner to the gas station’s small office, where her bookbag lay, and silently congratulated herself for getting her homework done before she came to work. One more semester and she would be done with her MBA, and she could get out of this loser gas station and on to real work. “Alright, Ben. I’m going to start running reports and printing out credit card receipts. Bring the drawer back here after you lock the front door. And let’s try to get the count right for once, just to see if you can do something new on your last night.”
She sat down and started printing the long tapes of paper that would go into the safe before she could go home. She heard the jingle of the front glass door and caught the convenience store’s lights going down out of the corner of her eye.
Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a sight that she had not expected.
“Hey, Jess, I’m just going to take this home as a parting gift, alright?”
She looked up from her nightly report to see Russ, not Ben, holding up an eighteen-pack of Heineken cans.
“Put those down! You’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Nah. I’ll just head out the back here.” He disappeared from the door’s frame, and Jessica immediately stood up and gave chase. As she rounded the corner, he stood with his back to the gas station’s locked back door. “Aw, come on, Jess! You need to lighten up. Life can be funny!”
Jessica pointed an angry finger at him, but before she could utter another word, two hands grabbed her sides and squeezed, and she let out a scream of alarm. She twisted and tried to elbow the body behind her, who she soon enough identified as Ben, but he caught her arm and held it as Russ, who had dropped the beer, lunged forward with two greedy claws and grasped at her belly. Her hands dropped to defend herself, and she felt Ben’s hands slide up under her arms, wriggling and digging for her armpits. And as the three tumbled to the storage room’s floor, she heard the most terrifying thing she could have in that moment: her own mouth starting to laugh as their hands flew from ticklish spot to ticklish spot.
“Oh my god! Stop it!”
Then a peal of laughter as Ben kept tickling under her arms.
“I’m calling the police!”
Russ, whose hands had slid under her body to squeeze the wonderful bottom that both of the boys had looked at so many times, laughed at the threat. “You always leave your phone on the desk when you run reports. We’ve got you in here, Jess!”
She twisted hard to one side, and they let her roll over. Ben’s hands found easy handles on her ribs as she lay prone, and Russ began to squeeze the backs of her knees, which made her rump dance as she tried to kick away. He grinned at his accomplice. “I told you she’d be ticklish!”
Jessica tried to push herself up off the floor, but the tickling had already weakened her, and she could only squeal and laugh on the floor as their hands continued their frenzied work. When Ben felt her attempting to rise, he lifted her himself, grabbing her wrists as she rolled onto her back and pulling her arms up above her head. His legs wrapped around her chest, and she could not put her arms down. She could feel Russ start to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, starting with the bottom.
“No! No! Stop! I’m going to have you both thrown in jail!”
Russ’s eyes came up from her shirt-buttons and locked hers. “Come on, Jess! You’re so tense here! Have a few laughs with us!” She felt his fingertips start to wander around on her belly, and she reached over Ben’s legs to try to grab Russ’s arms. But as her own arms came up from her sides, Ben’s hands were once more under her arms, and she could do nothing but flail as she heard herself start to laugh again. Ben kept working that familiar flesh under her arms while Russ played the explorer, circling her navel and scratching along the line where her leggings met her belly and pinching her sides all the way up to the start of her ribs. They tickled her until she lost track of where she was, when it was, and then Ben released his scissor-lock and let her slump to the floor. Russ quickly shimmied forward, sitting on his haunches astride her midsection while Ben stood up and walked behind Russ, towards her legs. She reached up to push Russ off, but he was bigger than she was, and they really had worn her out with tickling. He collected both her wrists in one big hand and held them against the floor above her head.
Jessica regained her breath and tried to threaten again. “I’m going to to the police with this. You two are never getting out!”
Russ, in her face, whispered, “We know there’s no camera back here. We’re not going to hurt you--we just always wanted to see how ticklish you can get!”
Ben piped up from behind them. “Are you two done already? I want to see what these legs can do!” She felt two thumbs and two forefingers grasp her legs just above the knee, ready to squeeze.
“NO!”
She could smell Russ’s cologne as her laughter erupted. She had nowhere to go--even though he was supporting himself, his body weight was directly on top of her--and Ben’s fingers squeezed her knees over and over, making her squeal with each pinch and driving her out of her mind as she pulled in vain against Russ’s grip. Russ, who still had a hand free, began tickling one armpit as Ben’s hands began to wander to her inner thighs. Her screams of protest did not last long before the unstopping touches reduced her to a bubbling giggle, and both of her former coworkers tickled with renewed energy as they heard her will break. They tickled for what seemed an eternity before they stopped, and Russ rolled off of her, and both stood up as she curled up, then sat up.
Ben was the first to speak. “See? We didn’t hurt you, just like we said. And we want to make this up to you.”
Jessica, still panting, just gave a confused look.
Russ spoke up. “You see, our new job is with a concert promoter in town, and we’ve got three extra front-row tickets for Taylor Swift’s show tomorrow.”
Jessica’s face, which the tickling had turned into an open book, reeled from the conflict. They knew--because she had told them--that she could never afford those tickets with graduate school and her other bills. And they knew--because she had told them--that she was an all-out Swiftie. She would do anything to get to that concert. And she could feel her drive to be at that show, in the front row, overcoming her hatred of her idiot employees.
“They’re really front row?”
“Yep. You would just have to pick two of your friends to take, then we’ll meet you out in front of the stadium tomorrow.” He held the tickets in front of her, and they were real.
“Okay, I’ll take them.”
Now it was Russ’s turn to talk. “One small price. You take your shoes and socks off, and you offer one foot--as a gift--to each of us. No fighting, no resistance. Just lay your feet in our laps and let us tickle as long as we’d like.”
Her face turned red as she realized that, once again, they had made her choice for her. There was no telling whether TS would come out their way any time in the near future. She leaned forward and began untying one of her shoes.
Ben and Russ looked at each other and nearly gave each other a high-five. But they also knew this was an opportunity that wasn’t going to stick around. Russ grabbed the coat that they kept by the freezer and rolled it into a makeshift pillow for Jessica to rest her head on. Ben took each shoe and each sock from her and placed them neatly at her side. Then both boys sat themselves down in front of her and licked their lips as she extended each leg into their laps and leaned back to rest her head on the rolled-up jacket.
Ben started first, his eager fingertips running up and down the length of her long sole and drawing giggles from her. Russ shuffled himself to the side so that her calf lay across his lap and secured her leg under his arm before he laid in at full speed, his fingers scrabbling over her skin and drawing her squeal again. Ben likewise shifted but occupied himself pushing his fingertips between her toes and wriggling them, ecstatic as he felt her leg try to kick him away.
With her hands free but her resistance forbidden, Jessica’s hands covered her face in embarrassment as the two dorks whom she had mocked over the months reduced her to a giggling girl. Whenever one of them found an especially ticklish run, her hips instinctively turned into the skid, and without exchanging a word, all three knew that the two were competing to get the best body-squirm out of their writhing, ticklish ex-boss. Her hands started slapping the floor on either side of her, but no referee came to her rescue: they really did intend to tickle her into oblivion, and she stayed and let them do just that, a prize beyond her reach waiting if only her ticklish feet and her laughing belly could hold out.
When they finally stopped, she simply rolled onto her side to breathe and hide her face from them for a moment. They gave her shoes and socks back without any further torment, and the three of them returned to the gas station’s office to finish evening reports and to drop them in the safe before they all three left the station.
* * * * * * *
The photographers were professional but not rude as they prepared Ben and Russ for the photo shoot. Ben periodically looked at his phone and at the photo, two days ago, of the five of them outside the stadium, all smiles and friendliness. He scrolled through photos of himself and his lottery-winning co-conspirator giving Beth and Ellen, Jessica’s friends from graduate school, alcohol-fueled and playful rib-tickles during breaks between sets, and he marveled at their ability to catch them just as their jumping squirms carried them off of one foot.
If Jessica went to the press or anyone else now with stories of tickling, they would simply show the photos and insist that it was all part of the ways they played when they hung out--nobody would have anything to say about it. Ben only wished that he could see Jessica’s face when she realized that her two favorite idiots were not working for a concert venue but that they would never work for anyone else ever again.
Russ had finished his individual shoot, and they were setting up backdrops for Ben’s. Russ’s hands were already gesturing wildly--another of his grand ideas was coming to him.
“Ben, I just had this idea--you know how hookers are legal in Nevada, right? What’s the PC word for that?”
Russ grinned. “Sex work.”
“What if we took some of our money and set it up in stocks, like that lawyer told us, but then went out there and started up a side business, but instead of sex, we-- you know--”
Ben motioned for him to keep his volume down. The photographer called his name out. He got ready for his own photographs.
