sadi
1st Level Green Feather
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- May 14, 2008
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YES MAN
Inspired by the movie YES MAN – kind of obviously, huh? ;P
A bit through this story I noticed I was putting far too much attention into the female, so figured I’d switch the story around, and make it about her instead. Hope no one’s too disappointed.
Betty had a hectic life for the most part. It consisted of a hasty divorce between her and her husband Lucas, who decided to run off with his secretary and leave her and their son, Mark, to fend for themselves; Mark was only 18 months, no less.
Having no sound education led to a continuous string of clerical jobs, commonly known as secretaries. And these always seemed to come attached with a boyfriend, one of her superiors in the job hierarchy. When that inevitably fell through, for one reason or another, she would be forced to pick up her and her son’s bags and move somewhere else to find an available job, since her reputation had been dragged through the mud after the boyfriend smeared her name all over the office. This gossip would spread to all of the other offices that could possibly hire her: blacklisted, in a sense.
This created a very hesitant, cynical, paranoid Mark. He always mistrusted people from first glance, waiting until they proved themselves loyal in one way or another. They weren't worthy of amiable feelings until they'd proven themselves worthy, in his eyes, at least. Hence, his friends were few and far between. He tried his best to keep himself distant from people; he saw them all as sly, mistrusting and greedy, ready to backstab you as soon as possible, stepping over you to achieve more in the world. A prime example: his hardworking, slightly naïve yet crazily determined mother, Betty. He admired her, her initiative, loyalty, determination, self-motivation and courage. But, she wasn’t perfect – by far. 'Of course she wasn’t, nobody’s perfect, right?' Her downside was a big one though; she was 'extremely' naïve, and her attractiveness didn’t help her one-ounce. Every job she was able to get led to her being swept off her feet by someone higher up, and being used by a manipulative employer, only seeing an easy opportunity to get their rocks off.
One day while Betty was working in her cubicle...
'This seems wonderful! All my trials and hard work are finally paying off!' Betty said to herself, diligently typing out the budget specifics on her desktop.
Also... Charles seems pretty interested in me. And boy is he attractive! Not too hard on the eyes, indeed! Maybe this time my luck will win out! - No. I’ve been hurt too many times already! I can’t encourage these types of ideas!' She argued within herself, albeit noticing him eyeing her once again, out of the corner of her eye. She giggled a little, her smile growing even wider as she noticed him spilling coffee on his pants, overfilling his cup as he was apparently not 'paying attention’. 'Not paying attention to 'what', indeed.' He discreetly dropped a piece of folded sticky note as he walked by, landing in her lap. Against her better judgment, she hesitantly opened it, her pulse increasing in her anxiousness.
812-723-0994
She bit her lip, fighting with herself over what she should do. What seemed like an eternity later, she quickly folded the piece of paper back up, shoving it into her purse in finality after much deliberation.
Once she was back at home, she briefly mentioned Charles to her teenager son Mark, who only grunted and gave an unintelligible remark in response, returning to his XBOX without another thought.
While stirring the vegetables in the pan, she reminded herself of the potentially life-altering session Mark and her had been persuaded into last evening. Maybe this was an opportunity for her life to turn around for the better finally.
Mark didn’t say much at dinner when she asked about the day's happenings, and how he felt about the conference. He was too busy stuffing his face and enjoying the food she figured. 'Oh well, as long as he grows up to be a healthy, happy man.' After both were finished, he quickly cleared the plates, still not uttering a word – an odd thing for him to voluntarily do but, maybe, it was simply a sign of a new, better life. She pulled out the greatly crumpled piece of paper, her hand shaking as she punched the buttons in, timidly placing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” 'Oh crap, it was a female! She should have known better!' She smacked her forehead in embarrassment with one hand, nervously replying, “Oh, I’m sorry. It seems like you're busy, so I shouldn't interrupt Charles-“
“-Dad? Hang on a sec. Dad!” She hit her forehead again. How stupid of her to jump to conclusions, no matter how frequently they were true. After a few seconds Charles’ voice came on the line.
“Hello? May I ask who’s speaking please?” Oh man, and he was polite! This is so embarrassing!
“Um, this, this is Betty. Sorry if I caught you at, at a bad, time, just-“ She fumbled over her words, too nervous to speak politely or eloquently like usual.
He interrupted, “-No. It’s fine. Marylin can clean the dishes, can’t you Marylin?” he called the last part out to his daughter. Betty heard a groan over the line, Marylin’s no doubt.
“Uh. I guess you now know I have a daughter now. Do you have any?” He tentatively asked, sounding hesitant.
Betty smiled and more confidently replied, “Yes. I also have a teenager, Mark. And coincidentally, he’s cleaning the dishes as well, though he offered.” She heard him relaying that information to his own daughter in the background, mentioning her son's name. A few replies went back and forth between them, then Charles' voice came back on the line, clear. “Sorry to constantly be on and off. It’s terribly rude of me to treat you this way, let alone when you’ve called me." She giggled. “No problem. So… why exactly did you give me your number?” She asked, slightly expectant.
“I was just wondering, if you would like, like to, possibly get together some time … ?” 'Now he was the one sounding nervous.'
“You free tonight at all?” There was an audible pause on the other end. She wasn’t sure if she sounded too forward with her query. 'Of course I sounded forward! Come on! Get yourself together girl, you have to make this work, right!'
“Tonight sounds fine. Let’s meet at McPhinigan's, to talk on a more casual note and maybe get a drink. Only if that’s all right with you, of course...?” Oh golly, he sounded so courteous!
“That sounds fine. Meet you there at… 9:30?”
“9:30 sounds fine. See you then. You better not go and stand me up now!” he added playfully. Betty giggled again, stating that was likely an impossibility.
She told Mark that she was heading out for a bit, he just grunted again and continued cleaning the kitchen. Odd, but hey, she didn’t have to clean. Less work and more fun time. She blushed at the thought, heading to her room to sort through all of her clothes to find nothing she thought would look nice but not too expectant for a first date. In the end she decided on a nice, snug pink blouse and flared tight jeans.
She arrived at 9:15 to surprisingly find Charles already waiting there. As she sat down beside him he seemed to have trouble telling the bartender what he wanted to drink. 'Guess I wore the right clothes then.'
He ended up only getting a scotch on the rocks, her a Strawberry Daiquiri. When he offered to let her try his drink she explained that she detested the taste of any liquor, so preferred to hide it behind fattening calorie high drinks. He chuckled, stating that he didn’t see any misplaced calorie on her, making her blush and giggle quietly.
He recommended moving to a quieter place, the ruckus of the bar getting increasingly higher as more and more people started to come in: football night. So and so against so and so. The bar had gotten to a comfortable dull roar, though Betty and Charles were still able to hear each other and maintain the feeling of privacy.
They moved off to a corner booth, just out of the noise of the bar but close enough to still get refills on their drinks if they desired. They got to a very comfortable closeness, sitting right beside each other.
“I’ve noticed that you have an adorable giggle,” Charles stated, making her giggle again in embarrassment. “I wonder what else can make you laugh and giggle.” He mused, pressing closer to her on the booth; his arm behind her head, resting past her far shoulder, making her both nervous and excited in the process.
He leaned in closer, quietly asking her a sensitive question, the tickling from his breath made her giggle again, titling her head to stop the sensations. “Merely as friends, I was just wondering, are you ticklish?” She giggled even more in nervousness, instinctively flinching away and giving a mixed scared and angry look, non-verbally shouting him the answer in her actions alone.
'I didn’t tell him, but I didn't say no, so that’s still fine, right?' She tried to reason with herself. She felt so guilty from the conference last night, about ‘Yes being the new No’, encouraging everyone to say yes instead of no to live life more.
Extremely quietly, with her head bent down, she mumbled, “Yes... Very.”
His eyes shone, and he figured he’d push his luck even more, asking, “May I please tickle you, Betty?” Her muscles tensed and she cringed even more, though he hadn’t laid a finger on her – yet. So quiet, she was practically only mouthing the words; “Yes.” Her blood was pumping through her veins, rushing everywhere and making her anxious, slightly crazy, and even more sensitive to that inevitable, first touch.
His far hand slid down, from comforting her to tickling her side; his fingers nimbly trailing up and down her side through the thin cloth, making her delightfully squeal and fall into peals of giggles, curling over against him in an effort to make that space as small as possible.
Her hands wouldn’t be stopping him any time soon, as they had immediately clamped to her ribs down to her elbows, where her forearms jutted up, her hands clenched in fists. This effectively made no help, whatsoever.
Charles quickly noticed that curling to the one side to protect it stretched the other out, nice and taut. Seizing this opportunity, his other hand went to work, tickling up and down her stretched out side. She let out a loud yelp, which was effectively overwhelmed by the cheer and whoots of the bar participants as a goal was scored. Then her knees came up to try to help block his impossible hands. They were equally effective as her arms were though, simply whacking against the bottom of the table then remaining pressed against it. Betty thought she was going to go mental. She’d never felt anything like this since she was a little child and her father had tortured her like this. She would throw a fit however, making him quickly stop.
But this was so much more. She had feelings for her torturer, and somewhere just below her consciousness, she greatly enjoyed the shooting pangs of intense pleasure, coursing throughout her body and coming in overwhelming floods into her brain. She slightly curled over, her head resting on the table; laughing and giggling her sweet little head off.
Charles stopped just before the saddening let down on the television screen. The majority of the bar people’s so and so losing, and upsetting the lot. And that was only about three minutes. If they had ended up winning however, Betty would have sure been in for another five or fifteen minutes of memorable enjoyment.
To Betty, it felt more like half and hour, or an eternity, though. She was completely drained when Charles finally removed his hands, the same big smile pasted on her face as she had had when she first felt his fingers wiggling through her shirt.
“Well that was fun! I thoroughly enjoyed myself, at least. Did you?” He asked, standing out of the booth, his hand held out to help her.
She gave a brief grunt, then composed herself more, reaching out for his hand helping her out. After a pregnant pause, she responded, “That was the longest I’ve ever been tickled. It was completely terrible!” His expression turned sorrowful for a moment; “Outrageously wonderful and terrible,” she finished. He gave an audible sigh, quickly returning to his contented smile.
“Would you like to go on another date, Betty?”
“Yes, please.”
She couldn't keep the smile from her face all the way home, falling asleep feeling happy and content.
As she drove home, she couldn’t get the same smile off her face either.
Inspired by the movie YES MAN – kind of obviously, huh? ;P
A bit through this story I noticed I was putting far too much attention into the female, so figured I’d switch the story around, and make it about her instead. Hope no one’s too disappointed.
Betty had a hectic life for the most part. It consisted of a hasty divorce between her and her husband Lucas, who decided to run off with his secretary and leave her and their son, Mark, to fend for themselves; Mark was only 18 months, no less.
Having no sound education led to a continuous string of clerical jobs, commonly known as secretaries. And these always seemed to come attached with a boyfriend, one of her superiors in the job hierarchy. When that inevitably fell through, for one reason or another, she would be forced to pick up her and her son’s bags and move somewhere else to find an available job, since her reputation had been dragged through the mud after the boyfriend smeared her name all over the office. This gossip would spread to all of the other offices that could possibly hire her: blacklisted, in a sense.
This created a very hesitant, cynical, paranoid Mark. He always mistrusted people from first glance, waiting until they proved themselves loyal in one way or another. They weren't worthy of amiable feelings until they'd proven themselves worthy, in his eyes, at least. Hence, his friends were few and far between. He tried his best to keep himself distant from people; he saw them all as sly, mistrusting and greedy, ready to backstab you as soon as possible, stepping over you to achieve more in the world. A prime example: his hardworking, slightly naïve yet crazily determined mother, Betty. He admired her, her initiative, loyalty, determination, self-motivation and courage. But, she wasn’t perfect – by far. 'Of course she wasn’t, nobody’s perfect, right?' Her downside was a big one though; she was 'extremely' naïve, and her attractiveness didn’t help her one-ounce. Every job she was able to get led to her being swept off her feet by someone higher up, and being used by a manipulative employer, only seeing an easy opportunity to get their rocks off.
One day while Betty was working in her cubicle...
'This seems wonderful! All my trials and hard work are finally paying off!' Betty said to herself, diligently typing out the budget specifics on her desktop.
Also... Charles seems pretty interested in me. And boy is he attractive! Not too hard on the eyes, indeed! Maybe this time my luck will win out! - No. I’ve been hurt too many times already! I can’t encourage these types of ideas!' She argued within herself, albeit noticing him eyeing her once again, out of the corner of her eye. She giggled a little, her smile growing even wider as she noticed him spilling coffee on his pants, overfilling his cup as he was apparently not 'paying attention’. 'Not paying attention to 'what', indeed.' He discreetly dropped a piece of folded sticky note as he walked by, landing in her lap. Against her better judgment, she hesitantly opened it, her pulse increasing in her anxiousness.
812-723-0994
She bit her lip, fighting with herself over what she should do. What seemed like an eternity later, she quickly folded the piece of paper back up, shoving it into her purse in finality after much deliberation.
Once she was back at home, she briefly mentioned Charles to her teenager son Mark, who only grunted and gave an unintelligible remark in response, returning to his XBOX without another thought.
While stirring the vegetables in the pan, she reminded herself of the potentially life-altering session Mark and her had been persuaded into last evening. Maybe this was an opportunity for her life to turn around for the better finally.
Mark didn’t say much at dinner when she asked about the day's happenings, and how he felt about the conference. He was too busy stuffing his face and enjoying the food she figured. 'Oh well, as long as he grows up to be a healthy, happy man.' After both were finished, he quickly cleared the plates, still not uttering a word – an odd thing for him to voluntarily do but, maybe, it was simply a sign of a new, better life. She pulled out the greatly crumpled piece of paper, her hand shaking as she punched the buttons in, timidly placing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” 'Oh crap, it was a female! She should have known better!' She smacked her forehead in embarrassment with one hand, nervously replying, “Oh, I’m sorry. It seems like you're busy, so I shouldn't interrupt Charles-“
“-Dad? Hang on a sec. Dad!” She hit her forehead again. How stupid of her to jump to conclusions, no matter how frequently they were true. After a few seconds Charles’ voice came on the line.
“Hello? May I ask who’s speaking please?” Oh man, and he was polite! This is so embarrassing!
“Um, this, this is Betty. Sorry if I caught you at, at a bad, time, just-“ She fumbled over her words, too nervous to speak politely or eloquently like usual.
He interrupted, “-No. It’s fine. Marylin can clean the dishes, can’t you Marylin?” he called the last part out to his daughter. Betty heard a groan over the line, Marylin’s no doubt.
“Uh. I guess you now know I have a daughter now. Do you have any?” He tentatively asked, sounding hesitant.
Betty smiled and more confidently replied, “Yes. I also have a teenager, Mark. And coincidentally, he’s cleaning the dishes as well, though he offered.” She heard him relaying that information to his own daughter in the background, mentioning her son's name. A few replies went back and forth between them, then Charles' voice came back on the line, clear. “Sorry to constantly be on and off. It’s terribly rude of me to treat you this way, let alone when you’ve called me." She giggled. “No problem. So… why exactly did you give me your number?” She asked, slightly expectant.
“I was just wondering, if you would like, like to, possibly get together some time … ?” 'Now he was the one sounding nervous.'
“You free tonight at all?” There was an audible pause on the other end. She wasn’t sure if she sounded too forward with her query. 'Of course I sounded forward! Come on! Get yourself together girl, you have to make this work, right!'
“Tonight sounds fine. Let’s meet at McPhinigan's, to talk on a more casual note and maybe get a drink. Only if that’s all right with you, of course...?” Oh golly, he sounded so courteous!
“That sounds fine. Meet you there at… 9:30?”
“9:30 sounds fine. See you then. You better not go and stand me up now!” he added playfully. Betty giggled again, stating that was likely an impossibility.
She told Mark that she was heading out for a bit, he just grunted again and continued cleaning the kitchen. Odd, but hey, she didn’t have to clean. Less work and more fun time. She blushed at the thought, heading to her room to sort through all of her clothes to find nothing she thought would look nice but not too expectant for a first date. In the end she decided on a nice, snug pink blouse and flared tight jeans.
She arrived at 9:15 to surprisingly find Charles already waiting there. As she sat down beside him he seemed to have trouble telling the bartender what he wanted to drink. 'Guess I wore the right clothes then.'
He ended up only getting a scotch on the rocks, her a Strawberry Daiquiri. When he offered to let her try his drink she explained that she detested the taste of any liquor, so preferred to hide it behind fattening calorie high drinks. He chuckled, stating that he didn’t see any misplaced calorie on her, making her blush and giggle quietly.
He recommended moving to a quieter place, the ruckus of the bar getting increasingly higher as more and more people started to come in: football night. So and so against so and so. The bar had gotten to a comfortable dull roar, though Betty and Charles were still able to hear each other and maintain the feeling of privacy.
They moved off to a corner booth, just out of the noise of the bar but close enough to still get refills on their drinks if they desired. They got to a very comfortable closeness, sitting right beside each other.
“I’ve noticed that you have an adorable giggle,” Charles stated, making her giggle again in embarrassment. “I wonder what else can make you laugh and giggle.” He mused, pressing closer to her on the booth; his arm behind her head, resting past her far shoulder, making her both nervous and excited in the process.
He leaned in closer, quietly asking her a sensitive question, the tickling from his breath made her giggle again, titling her head to stop the sensations. “Merely as friends, I was just wondering, are you ticklish?” She giggled even more in nervousness, instinctively flinching away and giving a mixed scared and angry look, non-verbally shouting him the answer in her actions alone.
'I didn’t tell him, but I didn't say no, so that’s still fine, right?' She tried to reason with herself. She felt so guilty from the conference last night, about ‘Yes being the new No’, encouraging everyone to say yes instead of no to live life more.
Extremely quietly, with her head bent down, she mumbled, “Yes... Very.”
His eyes shone, and he figured he’d push his luck even more, asking, “May I please tickle you, Betty?” Her muscles tensed and she cringed even more, though he hadn’t laid a finger on her – yet. So quiet, she was practically only mouthing the words; “Yes.” Her blood was pumping through her veins, rushing everywhere and making her anxious, slightly crazy, and even more sensitive to that inevitable, first touch.
His far hand slid down, from comforting her to tickling her side; his fingers nimbly trailing up and down her side through the thin cloth, making her delightfully squeal and fall into peals of giggles, curling over against him in an effort to make that space as small as possible.
Her hands wouldn’t be stopping him any time soon, as they had immediately clamped to her ribs down to her elbows, where her forearms jutted up, her hands clenched in fists. This effectively made no help, whatsoever.
Charles quickly noticed that curling to the one side to protect it stretched the other out, nice and taut. Seizing this opportunity, his other hand went to work, tickling up and down her stretched out side. She let out a loud yelp, which was effectively overwhelmed by the cheer and whoots of the bar participants as a goal was scored. Then her knees came up to try to help block his impossible hands. They were equally effective as her arms were though, simply whacking against the bottom of the table then remaining pressed against it. Betty thought she was going to go mental. She’d never felt anything like this since she was a little child and her father had tortured her like this. She would throw a fit however, making him quickly stop.
But this was so much more. She had feelings for her torturer, and somewhere just below her consciousness, she greatly enjoyed the shooting pangs of intense pleasure, coursing throughout her body and coming in overwhelming floods into her brain. She slightly curled over, her head resting on the table; laughing and giggling her sweet little head off.
Charles stopped just before the saddening let down on the television screen. The majority of the bar people’s so and so losing, and upsetting the lot. And that was only about three minutes. If they had ended up winning however, Betty would have sure been in for another five or fifteen minutes of memorable enjoyment.
To Betty, it felt more like half and hour, or an eternity, though. She was completely drained when Charles finally removed his hands, the same big smile pasted on her face as she had had when she first felt his fingers wiggling through her shirt.
“Well that was fun! I thoroughly enjoyed myself, at least. Did you?” He asked, standing out of the booth, his hand held out to help her.
She gave a brief grunt, then composed herself more, reaching out for his hand helping her out. After a pregnant pause, she responded, “That was the longest I’ve ever been tickled. It was completely terrible!” His expression turned sorrowful for a moment; “Outrageously wonderful and terrible,” she finished. He gave an audible sigh, quickly returning to his contented smile.
“Would you like to go on another date, Betty?”
“Yes, please.”
She couldn't keep the smile from her face all the way home, falling asleep feeling happy and content.
As she drove home, she couldn’t get the same smile off her face either.
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