The knife against my skin was both frightening and oddly thrilling. I guess I should tell you how I got into this predicament. Let me first introduce myself, my name is Vala, yes its short for something but having to explain my parents' fascination with oranges is not something I like going into, so it’s just Vala, Val for short. Physically I am un-remarkable. I mean average height, average weight, average shape, mousy-brown hair, and glasses. Even my life has been pretty average, all twenty-four years of it. In fact, the most remarkable thing about me was my friend Melia.

Melia and I have been friends since grade school. We even stayed in touch when I went off the college and she studied locally. She is by far prettier, thinner, gorgeous hair, and a personality that still amazes me. She can walk into a room and be instantly the center of attention, while I could walk through a crowded room and no one would notice me unless I tripped and fell, and even then it would be only because someone fell over me. Why she is friends with me, I have no idea. But if I didn’t have her, I think I would just fade into oblivion.

Now there is one thing about Melia, she is extremely ticklish. I’m not kidding! When we were younger and would wrestle as kids do, all I would have to do is aim a pointy-finger at her ribs and it would set her off. Tickle her feet and you might get kicked in the face. Her underarms are so sensitive, even breathing on them would get her going. Of course, being her polar opposite, I am not ticklish at all, and Melia has tried for years.

So here we are, two single ladies in the city on a Friday night and what do we do? We hold up in our apartment because of the COVID-19 lock-down! Actually this one is her apartment. I do have my own place, but we decided that if either of us was infected, we were already both infected and the first week of self-isolating drove both of us really crazy, so we decided to stay together and move between apartments each week … you know to keep the plants alive and make sure everything is working and no genetics experiments were growing in the back of the refrigerator.

So what does this have to do with a knife? I am getting to that. It’s now week seven of the lockdown and while there is talk of some things opening up in the next couple of weeks, the City was one of the epicenters here in this country, so I doubt we are going to see much change for at least several more weeks. We have both been working online and binge-watching Netflix and Amazon Prime and also re-watching about every DVD and Blue-Ray either of us owned. We’ve also been playing tons of music and Melia has been trying to get me to dance.

As a dancer, I have been described as a sack of wet cement with two left feet. I know, boys can be cruel, but it was true, I have all the rhythm and grace of dying duck! So, since we were trapped together, she decided I was going to become a dancer. Originally I went along with it, mainly out of boredom, knowing I am a lost cause, but Melia is also very stubborn. So, how did I deal with getting her to stop what has turned into a torture for me? I tickled her.

Yes, I know, totally unfair to take advantage of her weakness.  However, in my defense, I was suffering from sore feet, shin bruises from hitting the coffee table, and a sore elbow from one fall that even Melia couldn't figure out how I managed to do that. So I took ruthless advantage and started pursuing her around the apartment, unmercifully.

Now, before you get the idea this was sexual, you really do have to realize that we are both straight. I did manage to lose my virginity right after high school and even have had a few boyfriends — even if sex wasn't a highlight of my life. Of course, Melia was far more successful in the boy department and even though we were both currently unattached, the tickling was never going to take us down the lesbian exploratory path, so don’t get your hopes up about that.

OK, the stage is set, I am chasing her around, doing my best to tickle her to a point of being discouraged and given up on me dancing without the need for genetic replacement of both of my feet. She kept trying to fight back, but she couldn’t get the upper hand. Finally out of breath, she held up her hands in surrender. That’s when things got weird.

“This is so damn unfair! One finger and I am on the floor and I bet if I took a feather across your feet, you wouldn’t even notice?” She said while panting to catch her breath.

I was enjoying my victory, “Didn’t we establish that I am not ticklish in like the fifth grade?”

“I refuse to believe you are not ticklish!”

“After how many years of evidence? Come on, you know it as well as I.”

“Lay down, I am going to tickle your feet!”

“Melia ...”

“I’m serious. Lay down on my bed!”

Knowing it was meaningless, I did it anyway and stretched myself out waiting for her to try one more time to reduce me to a heap of laughing womanhood.

She rummaged through her dresser and came over and grabbed my ankle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“For this experiment, you are going to be restrained so I can do my worst and we’ll see if I can find your ticklish spot!”

I pulled my foot away. “You’re nuts.”

She looked at me with a serious look that I never could resist. “Do you trust me?”

“You know down well I do!”

“So let me try this. Take off your socks and let me tie you down to the bed and see if I can get a response.” She showed me several scarves and an honest-to-god feather duster I didn’t even know she had.

So I did it, but not without a bit more back and forth bitching and complaining. So, there I was spread-eagle on her bed in my pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt with her tenderly trying to tickle my toes to no avail.

“Even trapped, you aren’t reacting much at all.” Then she stroked the duster against my ankle and I jumped a little.

“Ah-ha!”

“I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. You said my feet.”

She smiled, “I know, but we seem to have found something.”

She tried again, only this time I didn’t react. Then she sat on my right thigh and instead of tickling the right ankle, by surprise she went for my left one and I jumped again.

“I think we have a breakthrough!” She said getting up and going back to her dresser. She pulled out a sleep mask and came and put it on me, blacking out my vision.

“Hey!”

“Relax, Val. It’s just an experiment.”

She started touching me in various places and I often did jump, but not out of being ticklish.

“This is fun. You might not be a puddle on the floor, but I know I’m getting to you.”

There was a long pause, I almost thought she had gone away when I felt something cold on my lower leg. Then I felt a tug and I realize she had cut my pants and ripped them, uncovering my lower leg.

“Hey, Mel! What the fuck!”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” But then her touch on my now bare leg felt really strange, not ticklish, but strange and good, in a weird way. She was so gentle, her touch was almost a whisper. Once in a while, I could feel her breath warm on my skin. Then she cut the other leg and ripped them both open almost to my panties. I was about to say something, but she started stroking the insides of my legs and … and I really started to like it.

I wanted her to stop, but the words got stuck in my throat somewhere. She kept stroking my skin and I started feeling things, things I had read about but never really understood.

She tugged at my tee and took her knife, which felt huge on my skin and put it under my tee, laying it flat on my belly. It was ice cold, but at the same time, I realized she was kneeling between my legs and her face was just above my stomach. She was breathing hard for some reason.

I felt the knife turn and even though I trusted her, for an instant I was afraid the sharp edge was against my skin. It wasn’t, she pulled upwards and cut a slit in my tee-shirt. A silly thought occurred to me, I was glad it wasn’t one of my favorites tee-shirts. Then, she took the cut edges in her hands and ripped from the bottom right up to the collar. My breasts were bare in the cool air conditioning of the room.

I couldn’t speak, I don’t know why. But Melia could and did.

“I might never talk you into this position again, Val, so I am going to take full advantage. The same way you take advantage of me with your damn tickling.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant until I felt the feather-duster on my tit. I squirmed and choked back a cry.

“Have we finally found your sensitive spot?”

She did it again and this time I did cry out and tried to escape the feathery touch pulled at my restraints. I could hear the triumph in her voice as she laughed a low chuckle. She shifted and I felt the knife again, still cold as hell. She put it under the waistband of my bottoms and before I could even protest, she cut through them with several tugs and yanking the material. Another weird thought was scissors might work better, but there was something surreal about using the knife.

She got off of me and, using the knife to her advantage, had me stripped naked in minutes. What was left of my sleeping attire was underneath me or pulled away. Then the gossamer touching started at random places all over my body. A lot of it I didn’t mind, but she found places I didn’t realize could even be sensitive. My underarms were not, but if she ran a finger on the bottom of my upper arm, I would jump and almost squeal. The back of my knees were susceptible as well as were my breasts. She spent what felt like forever gently touching and exploring my body with her fingers and her forever-damned duster.

I then felt her run those feathers across my mons pubis, tickling the pubic hair I rarely bothered to trim or shave. I know I jumped as far as those scarves would let me. I heard her chuckle again. “I think I have you now!”

She focused on my lower belly and her touches didn’t have me laughing, but squirming to escape. The strange feelings were multiplying rapidly. After several torturous minutes, I think she might have gotten bored with it because all touching stopped. Then I felt her lay next to me, almost cuddling me. We hadn’t laid together like this since we were kids and would share a bed on sleepovers.

Without a word, she kissed my nipple.

I know, I know, I said we were straight, and we are! I also said the tickling wasn’t going to take down the lesbian path, but it wasn’t the tickling. I have no idea what came over her, or me for that matter, but she kissed my nipple and I reacted. Instead of squirming, I pushed my breast toward her face, wanting her to do it again. She did, only this time she sucked it in her mouth. She felt so incredible to me. I mean it was nothing like some guy thinking a two-second lick and suck was foreplay. She sucked at my nipple like she was making love with it and like it was the most important thing in the world to her.

Then she stopped and I felt the bed shift. She untied me without a word and I laid there, not quite sure I could move, let alone if I wanted to. I still had the mask on, but I heard her click off the light and then felt her lay back down with me, her body against mine and I found she was naked as well when my arms held her.

We made sweet gentle love that night, I think I had my first official orgasm with her. We fumbled a bit, unsure of ourselves, and each other. But it didn’t dampen what we felt between us. I heard and felt her orgasm and actually felt proud I could do that for her. There were things we didn’t do, and I am not sure if we will do them in the future. But for that night, that one incredible night, we were one person sharing in each other and with each other in ways neither of us had ever thought possible.