I had just started dating a girl I met in university. Her name was Lisa. I met her through a friend, and not knowing too much about her, I decided the easiest date would be dinner and a movie. Lisa was petite, maybe 5’2, and I was closer to 6’1, so she wore boots with heels on this date.
During dinner, we started to loosen up and started to talk about ourselves a little more. Our conversation started to get personal, but in a playful manner.
“You want to know something weird?” Lisa asked me.
“I’m not ticklish.”
“Not at all?”
“Well maybe a little on my feet, but that’s all.”
“That’s good to know,” I replied to her.
“Good to know? Good luck even trying to get to them.”
I tried to reach under the table for her leg to call Lisa out on her bluff, but she thwarted my advances. In fact, I think I may have killed the mood because she was annoyed with my childish antics.
“Let’s just get the bill,” Lisa said and I reluctantly gave up my pursuit.
Our next stop was the movie theatre, but I couldn’t stop thinking about trying to tickle Lisa. My goal for a successful date was now whether or not I could get her boot off.
At the movie theatre, Lisa became relaxed. I knew this was going to be my moment as I was certain that Lisa had forgotten about our previous conversation.
I gently grabbed Lisa’s legs and placed them across my lap. Lisa thought it was a sweet gesture, but my motive was to get her into a vulnerable position.
I ran my hand gently up and down her leg, a gentle caress to set the mood. In reality, I was searching in the dark for a zipper to release her boot. As I ran my hand down her left leg and toward her ankle, I felt the top of her boot and I knew I had her. Lisa had not paid attention to my movements and was enjoying the film. I felt bad for what I was about to do, but I had a goal in mind and I had to accomplish it. After all, Lisa brought it upon herself with that tease about having ticklish feet.
I snuck my hand into her pant leg and grabbed for the zipper. Lisa was startled by my movement and immediately reached for my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I replied as I worked on the zipper.
“Don’t take my boot off!” she whispered angrily.
It was too late, the zipper on her left boot was completely down, her boot was mine for the taking.
“No, please don’t,” Lisa pleaded.
I gave her loose boot a tug and all that was left in her boot was her toes, which she curled as a last defense.
“My feet stink,” she whispered again as a last ditch effort.
I didn’t let go.
Lisa angrily pulled her legs back hoping to catch me off guard, instead, Lisa wound up abandoning her boot in my hand.
“Give it back,” she whispered.
“No,” I replied, “not unless you let me tickle your foot.”
“Oh my god,” she replied, “I’m not letting you do that! People will hear me!”
“Then you’re not getting your boot back.”
I then put her boot just out of her reach on an empty chair nearby.
Lisa watched the rest of the movie quietly. She sat with her left leg crossed on top of her right leg so that her socked foot wouldn’t touch the ground. It was dark but I could see she had on white socks.
When the movie ended and the house lights came back on, I examined her exposed foot. I was right, Lisa was wearing white socks. They seemed clean, but I had a plan.
I gave Lisa a choice, either let me tickle her or she would have to walk back to the car, which meant through the theatre and the parking garage, in her just one boot. To my surprise, Lisa chose the latter option and walked out of the theatre lopsided.
It didn’t take many steps for Lisa’s white sock to become a dirty grey. By the time she had reached the theatre door the bottom of her left sock had completely outlined her foot. She noticed me staring at her socked foot and she angled it up to see.
“Oh my god, my sock is so dirty!”
I reminded Lisa that she made the choice. Lisa angrily stormed off into the parking garage, still in her one booted state.
I followed behind her as she made her way to the car.
Her sock was now a dark grey, almost black as she hobbled through the cold concrete floor.
I handed her boot back, like I said I would, and she grabbed it from me with fury. She patted off her sock to the best of her ability and slipped her dirty socked foot back into her boot.
Lisa actually had a friend’s party to go to that night, so I had to drop her off. I did kiss her goodnight, so I guess it wasn’t a bad date (especially for me).
The best part actually came the day after as Lisa called me in the morning. She explained that at her friend’s house, everyone had to take off their shoes. One of her friends pointed out her dirty sock and Lisa had to explain that I had stolen her boot for the day. Her friends found it amusing and actually, before she left the party, her friends stole both her boots and played keep away with them outside. Lisa said she hated me for it as her friends found a new way to torture her. They made her run around the neighborhood in her socks as she tried to retrieve her footwear.
“My socks were so dirty!” she told me.
“Well,” Lisa started, “the left one was definitely dirtier than the right.”