Scott arrived at the studio promptly at 10:00 am. He walked up to the receptionist, trying to sound cool, even though he was quite excited. “I have a 10:00 photo shoot, I’m the new model.”
“Oh yeah,” the handsome young man behind the counter said, “the new foot model.”
The correction didn’t bother Scott at all. He’d answered the ad for body part modelling because he needed the money. When he’d come in for the interview, he had to strip down to his underwear while the photographer, Paul, studied every inch of his body.
“You have great hands and feet,” Paul had commented. “And a nice body. I think I could use you in some things.”
Scott knew this was only the beginning of bigger and better things, so he readily agreed to this morning’s shoot. Some layout for a new book.
The receptionist, Mark, directed Scott to a door that led to the studio. Paul was there waiting for him. Paul was probably Scott’s age, 24, and he was very good-looking. There was another man with him too, also in his mid-twenties and very handsome.
“Scott,” Paul said, “this is Bruce. He will be doing your make-up today.”
“Great,” Scott said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Now, Scott,” Paul said right away, “What we are doing today is taking some photos of your feet. The photos are for a book on Reflexology. Do you know what that is?”
“Yeah, it’s the massage of the feet, right.”
“Close, it’s the manipulation of nerve points in the soles of the fee that correspond to different parts of the body. We’re going to need some photos of you getting your feet worked on.”
“That’s cool,” Scott said.
“We’re also going to need a good shot of the soles of your feet for a two page insert. The insert is going to be a map of those pressure points displayed on your feet.”
“And I’m going to make that map,” Bruce chimed in, “so I have to ask you, are you ticklish?”
Before Scott could answer, he added, “Because I am going to be applying makeup to your feet with brushes and pencils. So I need to know if your feet are ticklish.”
“Well, yeah,” Scott said, a little embarrassed. “They are.”
“How ticklish?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t been tickled in a long time. But I’d say, on a scale of 1 to 10, probably an 8 or 9.” Scott was worried that he might blow his chance at his first modelling gig.
“That’s okay. I can work with that, as long as you understand that this is going to tickle quite a bit, and I’ll have to take the necessary precautions to prevent you from smudging the make-up.”
“Sure,” Scott answered enthusiastically. “Whatever I need to do.”
“Great,” Bruce said, why don’t you come sit over here and take off your shoes and socks.
Bruce led Scott to a big, overstuff chair. Scott sat down and started to untie his sneakers. Meanwhile, Bruce and Paul lifted two sides of something covered in a white sheet. It appeared to be heavy as they brought it over in front of the chair.
When they removed the sheet, Scott felt a little twinge of nervousness run down his spine, but he said nothing. It was a big set of wooden stocks.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, but this is necessary. He opened the top part of the stocks. “Please rest your ankles in the two indentations there,” he said.
Scott complied. Bruce shut the top part of the stocks over the tops of Scott’s ankles. The holes in the stocks were thickly padded, making for a very tight, but comfortable fit. Bruce latched the stocks with a snap of metal.
“Now,” Bruce said just like a seasoned pro, “I’m going to give you two safe words. One is Yellow Light and one is Red Light. If you need me to back off a little, maybe not press so hard or something, you say ‘Yellow Light’ and I’ll be more cautious. If you need a break or need me to stop, you say ‘Red Light’. I promise I will stop immediately.”
“Okay,” Scott said, not as confident as before. Now that he was in the stocks, his bare feet felt incredibly vulnerable. He knew this was going to tickle bad, and that there really was nothing he could do if this guy didn’t stop when he asked him.
Bruce pulled a stool over to the front of the stocks while Paul rolled over a cart with brushes, pencils, and other instruments on it.
“Okay, I’m going to start with the outline now,” Bruce said. He took a black grease pencil with a pointy type and started to draw a dotted line around Scott’s heel.
As soon as Bruce began, Scott started to wonder if he could take this. He was giggling in seconds as the pencil dug into the soft flesh around the perimeter of his heel. When Bruce started drawing a line straight up Scott’s arch, he was already in hysterics.
Bruce drew zones all over the soles of Scott’s feet, and around his toes. Scott was laughing like crazy. He wanted to shout the safe word, but he didn’t want to look like a little baby. So he endured the tickling even though it was pure torture.
After perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, Bruce leaned back and put the pencil down.
“How you holding up?” Bruce asked.
“Just fine,” Scott said, knowing that he must have looked like a red-faced, exhausted mess.
“Great,” Bruce said, “Now I have to color in the different areas.” He picked up a little paintbrush.
The point of the grease pencil had caused Scott a great deal of distress because the point dug into his tender, ticklish soles. He thought the brush strokes would be easier to endure. He was wrong.
As Bruce started painted his soles with the brush, Scott realized that his bare feet, newly initiated by the first tickling, were even more sensitive. The light glides of the brush caused a tickling sensation that made Scott’s skin positively vibrate with nerve pulses and he laughed his head off. He gripped the arms of the chair, trying to resist the urge to use the safe word.
It took Bruce another fifteen minutes to paint Scott’s left sole. When he started immediately on Scott’s right foot, he could take it no more. “Red light! Red light!” he shouted. Bruce put down his feather.
Paul handed Scott a glass of water, which he took in both his shaking hands. He drank the water in tiny sips, since he didn’t have the breath for a big gulp.
“Let us know when you are ready to begin again,” Paul said, glancing at his watch. This made Scott nervous that he was taking too much time.
“I’m ready now,” he said, handing back the half-empty glass. He gripped the arms of the chair again as he watch the brush descend toward his right sole.
As soon as Bruce started brushing his right foot, Scott wanted to use the safe word again. He lasted perhaps five minutes, laughing like crazy and wiggling his toes like mad. The he yelled, “Yellow light.” Bruce moved to rougher areas on Scott’s feet, like the ball and heel, while Scott enjoyed a much needed break from the intense tickling.
But soon it started again as Bruce returned to painting his right sole. Scott lasted for the last ten minutes that it took Bruce to finish the job.
“Oh, thank God,” Scott muttered, “I don’t think I could have taken one more moment of the tickling. I had no idea my feet were so ticklish.”
“Well, you did a great job,” Paul said, camera in hand. Now I’m going to take some shots.”
Paul took a couple rolls of film on Scott’s painted soles. It only took a few minutes. Then Bruce released Scott’s feet from stocks and directed him to the bathroom where he could wash the makeup off.
Scott returned shortly with nice, clean feet. An ottoman had been put in front of the chair and Scott was invited to sit back down. Then Bruce applied pressure to different parts of Scott’s soles while Paul took more pictures. There were times when Scott couldn’t help himself. He wiggled his toes and giggled when Bruce found a particularly sensitive spot. But the reflexology felt absolutely wonderful on his feet, and Scott almost fell asleep in the chair.
Eight minutes after he’d arrived, Scott was putting his socks and sneakers back on. Totally exhausted, but totally exhilarated, he said his good-byes to the two men and then when back to the receptionist to collect his pay.
Once he left the room, Paul turned to Bruce and said, “Great job.”
“He was totally hot,” Bruce replied, “And so ticklish.”
The receptionist Mark came into the studio. “He’s gone,” he said. “The next guy, Eric, should be here in a few minutes.
“Good,” Paul said, “I get to be the make-up artist this time. Eric is adorable and I’m sure he’s ticklish.”
“Who am I?” Bruce asked.
“You’re the receptionist,” Mark replied, and I’m the photographer.
“Oh, bummer,” Bruce said, “I’d better go make sure the monitor is working out there.”
“And put in a new tape,” Paul said. “We need to make sure we have good video on all these guys so we can decide who we want to contact for a call back. I know I’m going to want to get Scott in here again.”
“Me too,” Mark said, “I want to find out if his pits are as ticklish as his feet.”
“I’d like another crack at his bare soles,” Bruce said as he was leaving the studio, “They were so hot.”
Bruce just finished replacing the video tape when a gorgeous man entered.
“Hi, I’m Eric,” he said, “They’re going to be taking some pictures of my feet today.”
“Yes, of course,” Bruce said with a sheepish grin, “They’re waiting for you, go on in.”
As the man entered the studio, Bruce glanced through the appointment book. They were booked almost solid for the rest of the week. Then he settled back and watched the monitor as Eric was putting his bare feet into the stocks. He picked up the phone and called Scott’s home. He knew he wouldn’t be home yet. When he got the machine, he said, “Hey, Scott, it’s the studio. We really loved your work today and we are interested in using you for another shoot. It’s an ad for deodorant, so we are going to need some armpit shots. We have an opening this Friday at 3:00. Give me a call and let me know if that works for you.”
As he hung up the phone, he could hear hysterical laughter coming from the next room. The he heard some shouting, “Red Light! Red Light!” He settled back to watch the monitor thinking, “Man, they’ve only started, this is going to be a live one,” and he watched as Paul drew lines across his bare soles.
Then he thought, “What these boys don’t give for their art.”