The Ad

By QuantumLuv

 

Andy’s eyes burst wide open. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Here he was, his body wrapped around that of his opponent, their feet grinding into the soft padding of his college’s wrestling pit, Andy in the middle of the tryout of his life. He was pitted against a junior named Steve who got on the wrestling team his freshman year, and the eyes of the current team, the coach, and all the other potential frosh wrestlers were all over his body, currently tense and rigid — Steve wasn’t moving an inch. With Andy’s arms wrapped around Steve’s waist, Steve’s hands were placed strategically right in the middle of Andy’s ribs, and that’s where it happened: the fingers squeezed in, digging ever-so-softly into Andy’s flesh, and — with that — Andy was being tickled. He laughed, his ribcage folded in, and Steve made his move, using Andy’s second of vulnerability to his advantage, flipping the freshman around and pinning him on the ground. There were some cheers from the stands — Steve’s buddies no doubt. With that, Andy’s fate was sealed: he wasn’t going to make the team this year, and, breathless on the mat, he was still grinning; not because he wanted to, but that one squeeze still had its ticklish reverberations in his body, and he was smiling against his will. It was almost humiliating: Andy didn’t make the team — because he was ticklish.

Instead of returning to the stands to watch the rest of the tryouts like everyone else, Andy simply got up and left, walking away angry and in a huff. This wasn’t fair — he was supposed to be that all-star athlete that broke into a high-ranked NCAA wrestling team his first time out. God knows he dominated the sport back in high school — everyone back at home would be so disappointed that he didn’t make it this year. Maybe he would just lie to them — but, no, they’d be following the rankings online. Shit. This just isn’t fair.

Still only two weeks into his term, Andy determined that he already hated being in college. It wasn’t that bad of an experience, really: he had a single, made some fast friends already, and was enjoying his classes so far, but the wrestling tryout had genuinely tainted his feelings about everything — he wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to even eat tonight. A few people in passing asked how it went (god knows he talked this thing up enough amidst his friends), but he blew past them without acknowledging their presence. Andy could get rather emotional when things didn’t go his way, and this, easily, ranked as one of those experiences.

He went back into his room to find Sophie checking her e-mail on his computer. “How’d it go?” his sweet girlfriend asked. Sophie flew in this week just to be here for the weekend and for Andy’s tryouts, her short black hair still musty and messy, no doubt having just woke up in the past hour while Andy was at the morning tryouts.

“I didn’t make it.”

“What?” she shouted.

“I know — I didn’t … I can’t fucking believe I didn’t make it.”

“What happened?” she asked.

Andy thought about what to say. He contemplated telling her that he didn’t make it ‘cos he was tickled for a fraction of a second and he lost his composure … but he stepped around it carefully: “I dunno — other guy was just better than me.”

Sophie arched her eyebrow — ‘cos she knew Andy had beaten stronger guys than him before, but simply resigned and accepted it. “Well I’m sorry, babe.”

Andy was finally able to glance at her figure, and she was still in just her bra and panties as before. She was still a spectacular girlfriend, and during this moment of weakness, Andy felt bad: how could a hot girl like that still be with him? He was broke as hell, up to the point where she paid for her own plane ticket out here. Andy wanted to be the guy that paid for her dinners and surprised her with jewelry and whatnot, but with his job scrubbing pots and pans after classes once a week, he could barely save enough to get by for seven days at a time. For someone as strong and macho as Andy was, this was always a sore spot for him.

“Well” Sophie started, almost purring out the word, “what do you want to do?”

Frustrated and exhausted, Andy looked at her and smiled, albeit faintly. He placed the toe of his left shoe against the heel of his right, and peeled his ankle-socked feet right out of his sneakers. He turned and flopped onto his bed and leveled with Sophie: “I honestly just want to lie down and forget this even happened.”

“Mind if I lie with you?” she asked.

Smiling, Andy said “Sure — why not?”

+++

Around midnight, Sophie’s head was nuzzling against Andy’s bare chest, coming off of one of the better nights of sex they had ever had. Andy stroked her hair while she lightly caressed his chest. Even with her bra still on, she was still a goregous sight, and as she snuck out of the covers to put her panties back on, Andy slowly began slipping into post-coital bliss. Andy heard her fidgeting with something on his computer — possibly his mic, but he was too chill to even open his eyes to notice. As he felt was Sophie slowly working her way up his body into her original position, her warm body wrapped slowly into his.

Then, came the soft, coy question: “Hey Andy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you … ticklish?”

Andy’s eyes burst open, but it was too late — her nails began drawing lines in his armpits, and his muscled body spasmed and withered, his mouth open with the thoughts of vocalizing his protest to her actions, but, instead, all that came out was halting, high-pitched laughter. The tough wrestler was reduced to nothing by his girlfriends fingernails. “P,please!” he cried. “Stop!” Her infectious grin was growing with every passing second — she was enjoying Andy’s reactions too damn much to rest up.

In Andy’s fevered, crazed mind, all he could think of was escape, because there was no way he could win this scenario: just a few tickles in and he was already down for the count. He tried folding his arms down to his sides, but her hands, spiderlike, were wedged into his body too well and nothing he could do could stop the ticklish onslaught. Finally, in a moment of brief courage, he managed to get his hands around her wrists and finally got her to stop. As he put her arms well out of distance, she laughed, pleased to know it actually took this much effort on his part to stop her. Andy tried to catch his breath, saving up cruel words for her on how never to do that again — but she just beamed at him happily. He let go of her wrists and watched as she collapsed her body around him. After a few minutes, she quietly dozed off to sleep, but Andy was still wide awake — not believing that twice in one day, he was reduced to nothing just by someone moving their fingers. Maybe Andy wasn’t invincible afterall — maybe he, in fact, had a weakness.

The next day, after kissing Sophie goodbye as she went through airport security to head back home, Andy drove home, pleased with how the weekend went … all things considered. When he got back to his room, he locked the door behind him as per usual. He sat at the chair in front of his computer, intent on checking his e-mail and — who knows — maybe even getting some homework done this weekend. The comp booted up, Andy reached into his mini-fridge to grab a beer (he wasn’t of age, but who was gonna stop him in his single?), and he noticed a new file on his desktop: “AndyT.mp3” He clicked on it.

The computer mic was on last night — and suddenly Andy was reliving every single revolting minute of the tickle torture he recieved at the hands of his girlfriend last night. Here, captured in digital perfection, was Andy’s torment. Each time Andy heard his own voice crack in desperation, a little something broke inside him, each crack revealing that he wasn’t as macho as he thought he was. His girlfriend pays for stuff, he got tickled by a guy and lost his spot on the wrestling team, he was under a pile of homework — Andy got frustrated. In just a T-shirt and baggy silver athletic-shorts, Andy needed to go somewhere — anywhere! — from here. He hurredly slipped his feet into a pair of worn leather flip-flops and bolted out the door, totally unsure of where he would go.

He wound up wandering around campus a bit, eventually winding up in the dining hall, buying an apple just to have something to eat, and then going into the commons hall, unsure of what to do. He wound up just collapsing on one of the public couches right next to the main entrence, a few students walking past him to head off to the cafeteria and some to whatever meetings they had going on that day. Adam brought his head down and tapped his foot nervously. He glanced up at the bulletin board in front of him, and then he saw the ad. Those three convincing words that couldn’t have been for anyone else but him:

“Male?
Broke?
Ticklish?”

This couldn’t be. No way. This was impossible. Andy glanced around and saw that no one was really paying attention to him. He picked himself up off the couch and walked to the bulletin board, eyeing the ad. No details. It was printed out on computer paper and the bottom was cut with scissors into little flaps — each one rippable and containing a single phone number. No names, no nothing. Andy glanced around him again, and, catiously, grabbed one of those little flaps with the phone number on it and ripped it off. He glanced again — looks like three other guys were already interested as well.

Andy calmly walked back to his room, his flips slapping against his soles and echoing across the quads on his way there. He kept glancing at the little flap of paper, curious. All it was was a phone number. His eyes kept coming back to it, staring at it as if, perhaps, there was some more information to be ascertained. But nothing. Just a number. When Andy finally got back to his hall and locked his room door behind him, he sat on his bed for a moment, still staring at that little slip of paper. He reached towards his desk to pick up his cell phone, but hesitated. What the hell was he doing? He hated being tickled. Sure, he was desperate for money, but this desperate? It seemed a little much, even for him. But, really, what else was he to do? This seemed like the best out … so Andy took a deep breath … and dialed.

Ringing. “Hello, this is Mike!”

“Um, hi — this is Andy.”

“Hello there Andy. Nice to meet you.”

There was a slight pause. Andy started. “So, um, I saw your ad.”

“Very nice to hear. So, I assume you fit those three characteristics?”

“Well, um, yeah, but I don’t really know what you are or what the deal is or what here, ‘cos …”

“Hold on there” stated Mike in a pleasing, simple voice. “Let me jump in ‘cos I have no doubt you got a lot of questions. I run this company called ROFL, Inc. It’s a high-tech, online company. Let me ask you Andy — you ever go online?”

“Yeah, like every day.”

“Sweet. You ever go to porn sites?”

“Um, that’s kind of a personal question …”

“So … that’s a yes then?”

Andy hesitated a bit. “Yeah.”

“Dude, it’s OK. We all do it. Well, ROFL is, in essence, a porn site, but unlike other sites, this doesn’t contain any nudity or sex or anything else like that.”

“… so where do you call it a ‘porn’ site?”

“Andy, I assume you go to college here in town, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me give you our address. Why don’t you swing on by for a quick meeting.”

“Dude, well, I dunno …”

“Oh man, I’m sorry — I don’t mean to creep you out, Andy. It’s not like my basement or anything — we’re actually located in the business district not to far from where your school is at. Oh, and just as a sign of good faith, there’s going to be $100 check here for ya.”

Andy’s eyes widened a bit.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah, it’s weird to go out and visit some place that labels itself a ‘porn’ site, but, dude, this is just a sign of good faith. If you get creeped out or just don’t want to do anything, you can still take the money with you; it’s not a big deal.”

Andy’s mood brightened. He got the details and, lacking anything better to do, locked his room, got to his car, and began driving to ROFL, Inc.

+++

When Andy walked into the address he was given, he was impressed. Taking up the first floor of a fairly sizable building in the business district downtown, ROFL was quite the professional operation. There was even a desk up front with a secratary. Red pantsuit and tight brown hair in a bun, this female clerk wasn’t too bad on the eyes. Andy walked up to the desk, flips slapping behind him.

“Um, hi — I’m here for a meeting with Mike?”

“Down the hall on the left, first door on the right.” She pointed down the hall and smiled at him. Andy reactively smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease. Mike wasn’t lying: this was the real deal. Andy made his way into Mike’s office. Mike seemed like a late-20s everyman — a charismatic, simple guy who had an honest face and spoke in a direct manner.

“Andy?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me.”

“Great! I’m Mike!” The two shook hands. “Please, sit down.” Andy pulled up a chair as Mike reclined behind his desk. Mike reached into his desk and pulled out an envelope. He tossed it across his desk to Andy.

“And there’s your check for $100.”

“Already?”

“Andy, I’m a man of my word. If you wind up working here, I want you do understand that.”

“So,” Andy started, “what is it you guys do?”

“Tickling” said Mike quite bluntly. “Just … tickling.”

“… is there an audience for that?”

“Oh boy!” chorted Mike. “You have no idea good sir. Indeed, male tickling is a huge, huge market. To see a masculine collegiate type like yourself dissolve into fits of laughter — it’s the crumpling of the male ego on a physical scale, and, well, that’s pretty damn hard to resist. It’s sexy, and, yes, people pay a lot to see it.”

“So, what you’re saying is … I would be paid for a video of another guy tickling me?”

“It’s not that simple.” Andy looked confused, but Mike continued onward: “Andy, follow me.”

Mike lead Andy to a large, almost metallic room. It was dark and cold, the walls a dull, damp gray. In the middle was a table with padded straps, perfect for restraining someone. A little bit above, there was a booth with a large glass panel, not too dissimilar from a producer’s booth in a recording studio. Mike walked around, demonstrating.

“This is where all the action happens. Basically, ROFL is a website, and subscribers come to us in order to see boys get tickled. They’re strapped to this table and, for 60 straight minutes, are tickled pretty relentlessly. Some subscribers pay just to watch, while others pay even more to participate.”

“What do you mean, ‘participate’?”

Mike stopped for a second, thinking of how to respond. “Andy, sit down on the table — let me show you.”

“Hey, you’re not strapping me down to anything yet.”

“Oh no no — this is just a demonstration. I’ll lightly restrain your ankles and that’s it — you can undo them at any time. OK?”

Andy stared at Mike questioningly.

“I’m a man of my word, remember?”

“Alright,” said Andy. He slid off his flips and sat at the center of the table, soon swinging his lightly-hairy legs around just so that his legs were positioned where the ankle-straps were. Mike said “Hey — why don’t you restrain your own ankles while I move up to the booth.” Andy obliged.

From the booth, Mike spoke on the intercom: “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess” said the young victim. Mike, hard as he might, could barely contain his hardon, as — undoubtedly — Andy had the single best pair of feet he had ever seen. Yet Mike was a pro: he knew not to mix business with pleasure, and today, of all days, was all about business.

“Here we go” said Mike as he flipped on a switch.

Andy looked above and saw a giant set of lazers at the high ceiling above him. A green one lighted up and hovered about a foot away from his left foot. He watched closely as the green laser rest, immobile. Andy looked under the table to see if it was burning a hole in the floor — but no, it wasn’t.

“OK, it’s happening now …” warned Mike, ominously.

The laser slowly inched its way towards Andy’s foot, then lightly pressed on his heel. It felt like … a finger. A soft — but direct — finger. It stayed on his heel for a bit, then slowly moved to the ball of his foot and began moving around. It was tickling him.

Andy was giggling slightly, but tried his hardest to contain it. The laser inched around a bit more, moving slowly — ever slowly — across Andy’s sole. Up to the middle portion. Licking the sides of his wide size 13 feet, and then up to the base of his toes. Andy couldn’t contain it anymore, and laughter came pouring out of him like a faucet on full-blast. A few seconds passed before the laser inched its way to the space between Andy’s big and first toes, and that’s when he cried out “No more!!”

The laser stopped. Mike was seen leaving the booth and then came down to the main room. Andy was catching his breath as Mike entered, soon b-lining to the straps at Andy’s feet and undoing them. “What’d you think?” Mike asked.

“That was intense, dude.”

“Yeah — now imagine a dozen of those going at once.”

Andy froze — yet, somehow, was intrigued.

The tour continued, Mike finding a water bottle for the one-minute victim, and soon the young men were touring the spa-facilities, the locker rooms, etc. At one point Mike showed Andy the nano-fiber technology that allowed subscribers to slowly “burn” the clothes that a model was wearing. When asked about underwear and the likes, Mike explained the password system that had been set up in place. Finally, the boys returned to Mike’s office. They sat down in the original positions.

“So,” Andy started, “I don’t mean to be a snob or anything, but I gotta ask …”

“Money.”

“Right.”

“Well, it’s pretty simple, Andy. If you do one 60-minute session, you get $1000. In the form of a check. Payable on the spot.”

Andy’s jaw just about dropped on the floor. “Just … just for guys to tickle me for an hour?”

“Think you’re man enough?”

Andy’s mind just stopped right there. Man enough?, he thought. Of chourse he was man enough. But he wasn’t going to let his ticklishness stand in the way of him losing a spot on the wrestling team or anything else like that. He was going to use it as a way to prove his strength — by standing up to it … just not now.

“Well Mike,” started Andy, “I gotta say — that’s a pretty sweet deal you’re putting in front of me. But, I got to give it some time.”

Mike nodded. “Totally understandable. Well, if you ever want to start, just give me a call, and we can fit you in within an hour. You know where we are, and” — extending his hand — “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Andy made his way out the office, out the building, and back to his car. He felt pretty good about things right now, then thought of the $100 check he had pocketed. He was going to deposit it tomorrow, but, to be honest, he felt kind of guilty for just taking money from this guy, especially given how nice he was. Yet, he didn’t let such a thought weigh him down — he was in a good mood for the first time in a while.

+++

Andy felt like shit. He was nearing tears of rage. He couldn’t believe it.

“But why?!” he shouted into his phone.

“Well,” cooed Sophie, “I just need to move on. I’m sorry — it’s nothing against you — I just, well, I just need to figure some stuff out with my life.”

“That’s not even a reason!” fumed Andy. “You slept with someone, I know it! Just tell me!”

“Listen, Andy …”

“Don’t LISTEN ANDY me! What is it? What’s causing you to leave me?”

“Listen, Andy, I am not up for being yelled at right now. I’ll call you back when you’re ready to talk like a real man.”

The last words stung the most — even more than the click that followed it. Andy was enraged. He threw his pillow against a wall and pounded on his mattress as hard as he could. “Not man enough” he reiterated. He couldn’t believe Sophie just broke up with him over the phone. Probably sleeping with some other guy back home. This wasn’t even possible in Andy’s universe. No matter how furiously he paced, no matter how hard he punched his mattress, the rage wasn’t going away. That was the worst part of it all. Not man enough. He was the manliest man he knew — what a bullshit excuse that was. Andy wanted to go out there right now and punch the guy she was sleeping with just to prove the exact opposite to her. It wasn’t flawless logic, but, hell, it worked for him.

Then he saw the number. That slip of paper. Perhaps he was a little off-kilter, but Andy … no, he couldn’t. Could he? He looked around the room, thought of all his friends that he’d call and complain to — no, he needed something physical … and he needed it now.

Ringing. “Hey there, this is Mike.”

“Mike! It’s Andy! I’m coming in!”

“Um, Andy … from two weeks ago — right! Hi! You’re … coming in?”

“Right the fuck now.”

“Are you OK, man?”

“Just have your nano-stuff ready in 20 minutes. I want this to happen now.”

Andy got in his car and drove furiously, his sandaled foot pressing so hard against the accelerator it was almost becoming one with it. Nothing was making this rage go away. Fuck Sophie. She had to be cheating on him — that was the only possible excuse. As Andy drove into the ROFL parking lot with the night sky hanging overhead, he knew this was, really, the last palce he could go to try and deflate his rage.

Andy walked in, stormed past the secreatry, and went right into Mike’s office, catching him a bit by surprise.

“Andy, you’re …”

“C’mon — let’s suit me up!”

Mike’s face went quiet — something was wrong … but he wasn’t about to deny this model what he wanted. “Follow me” he said, leading to the locker room.

Within 20 minutes, the now sock-footed, nano-fabric-wearing Andy was strapped into the table in the giant laser room. Mike finished adjusting the final wrist-strap, when he began explaining the sensor screen up in the booth to him: “So, basically Andy, there’s this video screen that shows your body. By itself, everyone can get to you, declothe you and tickle you. If I put my hands over your feet, however, the lasers can’t touch them — the touch screen detects that my hands are there protecting you. Even if you give them your pants and boxers passwords, I can still protect you if …”

“Listen!” shouted the restrained Andy. “I just want to feel something right now. Anything. So take the night off, and let me have the next hour to myself in front of the world. I’m a man, OK — I don’t need protection from anything.”

Mike, flabergasted, simply shrugged. “Alright — it’s your session.”

With that, Mike went up to the booth and started the five-minute countdown, noting the subscriber base piling in online to catch a glimpse of the new meat. Below, Andy sat shaking his head in defiance, wondering what the hell he was doing but still unable to shake Sophie’s betrayal from his mind. Such bitterness and rage — he just wanted to feel something. No matter what.

The clock counted down, and hit zero — the lights dimmed.

And nothing happened.

Andy looked around, and saw all the lasers overhead (or at least the ones he could make out) were warmed and charged … but nothing was happening. He sat there for 10 seconds … 20 … and nothing. He was just strapped down to a table dressed in silky fabric and his ankle socks. Well this sucks, he thought. Then, a red laser appeared. Right next to his waist. It slowly, surely, moved to the bottom of his shirt … and as it dragged across his shirt, it began dissolving it. Andy looked in amazement — this was kind of cool, actually. Another red laser appeared and began working on his left sleeve. With his hands bound to the table, Andy was basically spread-eagle and unable to move. Yet he found this clothes-dissolution technology fascinating. More red lasers appeared, and began working.

After about 10 minutes, his nano-shirt was mostly scraps, but after Andy’s boredom set in 5 minutes into the process, all he could think back to was Sophie. Then a green laser appeared.

It was on the edge of his nano-pants, but since he divulged no password, his pants were unaffected. Then, the green laser moved slightly up, and touched the exposed skin right beneath his belly button. It kind of … tickled. Then it moved up a bit more, moving around his stomach hairs a bit. Andy giggled a bit, but thought not much of it … until the laser found the inside of his belly button.

Suddenly, it felt as if some warm, flexible finger had found its way into his belly button and began worming its way around there. The giggles began coming up in Andy’s body, and, as hard as he tried, he just couldn’t repress that smile anymore. It’s almost as if the laser was hunting for tickles, and the biggest deposit was right there in his belly button. The giggling was turning into short, stuttered laughter … and soon he just burst, and began laughing. Then, another green laser appeared, and it was focusing on Andy’s right armpit. He tried to drag his body to the left … but his bonds kept him motionless. Another pair of green lasers appeared, this time focused on his socks, slowly forcing those fleeting bits of cotton off of Andy’s massive, delicious soles. Then another green appeared on his nipple. Andy began laughing a bit more. No, a lot more. His body was slowly going against his will, shaking and vibrating without his consent. Indeed, Andy was being tickle-tortured.

Twenty minutes in, Andy cried out “SOPHIE!” Not because he was thinking about her … but because that was the password for his pants. As soon as he said it, red lasers began appearing on the cuffs of his pantlegs, slowly dissolving them all while Andy dissolved into a puddle of uncontrollable laughter. His arms flexed and strained against his bonds, but it was useless — he wasn’t going anywhere, and he had to accept his ticklish fate. Sophie’s betrayal wasn’t in Andy’s mind anywhere — just the continual inescapable thought of tickling and being tickled. It was too much for him. He was going crazy, sweat pouring out of every pore of his body. Hell, he could even feel the green lasers in his armpit actually move the sweat around. Christ, this was potent stuff. He glanced down at his legs, his bared feet tops now staring at him as his toes wiggled uncontrollably. One green laser was focused entirely on the space beteen his toes, and it was driving him batty, Andy now worried he was about to choke on his own spit it was that intense. As the red lasers slowly began working their way up to his kneecaps, green lasers followed right behind them, stimulating him in a way he hadn’t ever known before …

… in fact, Andy thought he was getting a bit of a hardon, which he thought was impossible. All of these slightly warm lasers were caressing him. Yes, guys all over the world were caressing that fine, masculine body of his, using his rippling flesh as a canvas in which to paint a tickle masterpiece. Some lasers were erratic, others were slow and gradual, but they all had one purpose — to make him suffer. Somehow, being at the whims, the lusts, the desires of so many guys … it was turning him on, which would concern Andy more were he not being tickled on his neck by two more lasers. This was becoming too much.

Five minutes were left, and, finally, his pants were dissolved. He was now just down to his nano-boxers and the green lasers were having a field day on his inner thighs. Andy couldn’t recall the last time he had been touched there, but it tickled like hell. Not just tickling either — erotic tickling. His waist was thrusting as much as it could to get away from the lasers, but most of his energy was still being used by his toes, splaying and contracting wildly to get away from the guys who were tickling his toes for the past ten minutes virtually non-stop. It was official, there was now a hardon brewing in those nano-boxers, and all the thrusting in the world wasn’t helping him. Now even more lasers were focused on him, and — with that — a strange feeling washed over the boy … he suddenly, inexplicably, felt wanted. All of these guys wanted him to suffer, yes, but that’s ‘cos he was hot, and ticklish, and fun to tickle. Andy, in his fever-addled brain, felt needed and important for the first time in a long time. Suddenly, his ticklish anguish turned into euphoria. He wanted to overcome his preconceptions about what’s straight and what’s gay, and, in fact, wanted the guys out there to discover his boxers password. He garnered just enough breath the shout it … when the system shut down. The hour was up, and now Andy lay on the table, sweating, mostly naked, and horny as all hell. It wasn’t long before Mike was untying him.

+++

“So what’d you think?” asked Mike, massaging the massive feet of the new model in the locker room.

Andy, still sweating, mulled his answer closely, as his brain was still trying to digest the experience he had just had. Andy glanced at Mike and said “Well … it was good. Yeah, I didn’t mind it at all.”

Mike smiled, working on the base of the toes hard enough to relax but not hard enough to tickle. He placed Andy’s massive foot down on the bench and asked the only question he could ask: “So … are we going to see you again?”

Andy, his mind awash with all the details Mike had told him about generating the most paying users at a single time (50,000), thought that, yeah, he could do this again for another thousand. He grinned, glanced at Mike, and said “Yeah … and real soon, too.”