by Jimmy Cote
Wes met Barton Rafferty bright and early at six am to take photos
of the beach. He counted down the minutes until this assignment was completed. Spending a week at the posh seaside resort sounded like a great gig. Mr Rafferty came across as a smiling, engaging guy in the brochures and on the commercials. In person, he was a total ass.
Rafferty made his money at an early age in the stock market. He turned to real estate development at thirty. By forty he was a millionaire many times over.
Rafferty was handsome, with greying sandy hair, a tall stocky muscular build, big manly feet, and the worst attitude Wes had ever encountered. Wes did get the last laugh. Literally.” You want a picture of ​what​?” Rafferty asked.
“You, “Wes replied, “buried in the sand. It’ll jibe perfectly with your image of the carefree, laid back resident of Summer Chase.” he said. “Are you in?”
“Where do you want me?” he gestured to the beach.
“Here.” Wes moved a tarp to reveal a hole, surrounded by piles of sand. “Make it quick.”Rafferty sat in the sand, “I have a nine am tee time.” “Sure..you might wanna take off your shoes and your watch.”
Impatiently, Rafferty did so. Wes buried him in a sitting up position, packing wet sand about his legs and torso. Soon all that remained visible was the man’s head and his massive size 15 feet. Wes put the camera on a tripod, set the timer and said, “Give us a smile, Mr. Rafferty.”
Rafferty returned a lackluster grin. “You can do better than that..” Wes crouched, “Tickle tickle tickle...” he wiggled his fingers up and down the soles of Rafferty’s feet, “You ticklish, Bart?” “No-! HEE HEE HEE!- Stop-Don’t- HEE HEE HEE!” the man giggled, waved his big feet frantically.” Are you crazy? Get the hell away from my feet!” he ordered.”What’s wrong with you-HEE HEE HEE-HAH HAH! Stop-quit ticklin’ my feet! HAH HAH HAH!”
“Or what?” Wes asked, a grin on his handsome face, “What are you gonna do? Laugh?” he wiggled a fingertip to the arches, one foot at a time. “ I’ve been wanting to do this all week..” he chuckled. Indeed, the day he arrived , he spotted Rafferty poolside, in a suit and tie, feet bare. The feet were long and wide, with nice high arches and perfect toes, smooth pink soles, a pale contrast to his suntanned face and hands, “ You’ve been a pain in the ass since I got here..kitchy kitchy koo, Barton.”
“HEE HEE HEE HEE-You’re killin’ me! HAH HAH HAH! Stop! HEE HEE HEE!” Rafferty was at Wes’ mercy. His mighty struggling made but a crack in the sand. “HAH HAH HAH! Help! HEE HEE! Lemme outta here! HAH HAH HAH!”
“These sure are some big feet...This may take a while!” Wes remarked, “Jeez..they’re so ​soft​!” he marveled.” You know what these feet could use? A feather!” he pulled a turkey feather from his camera bag, brushed the tip of the feather up and down the arches, swirled it along the base
of and in between the toes. Rafferty howled with laughter. Wes’ fingers aided the feather in tormenting Rafferty’s big, soft ticklish bare feet. “Don’t look now, but your investors are headed this way...” Wes said, nodding to three men in suits headed their direction.
“Oh No! HEE HEE-You gotta stop! HEE HEE HEE! Wes-lemme out!”
“​Now​ you remember my name...Nah, I’ll just keep tickling you , Mr. Rafferty..”
“HEE HEE HEE-You’re fired! HEE HEE HEE!”
“You can’t fire me, you idiot! I don’t work for you-and remember? You paid me in advance.” “Then I’ll sue-HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!”
“Tickle tickle tickle...” Wes taunted, rolling his fingertips wickedly up and down the soles of Rafferty’s large, vulnerable bare feet. The investors advanced closer. Upon seeing Rafferty’s predicament, the men all had a good laugh at his expense. Ever the quick thinking businessman, Rafferty turned his potentially embarrassing tickle incident into a sales pitch.
Undeterred, Wes tickled Rafferty with the feather, making him giggle during his improvised sales pitch. Rafferty, exhausted from giggling, won a reprieve, “So-what do you fellas think?” “Tickle Beach.. It’s got a nice ring to it.”
“You gents head up, I’ll dig Mr. Rafferty out and he’ll meet you at the clubhouse.” Wes replied. The men were out of earshot. Rafferty growled, “Oh, are you gonna pay for thi-HEE HEE HEE! HAH HAH HAH! No more-HEE HEE HEE-Enough with the feet! HAH HAH HAA!”
Wes’ fingers tickled mercilessly about the arches of the size 15 feet. “ I said I’d dig you out, Barton, but I didn’t say ​when I​ ’d dig you out.” Wes grinned, “Tickle tickle tickle...”
