Her Ticklish Side

By Devlin Lucas

Harmony. No, not the agreeable sound of musical notes. She’s the fun, gorgeous girl living on the other side of his shared apartment wall. Of course, to his everlasting chagrin, she’s woefully taken. But when a misaddressed package lands on his doorstep instead of hers, he discovers a secret that will turn their casual acquaintance on its head.

See where the flirtatious seduction will take these playful neighbors as they explore the delightful fetish of Her Ticklish Side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Devlin Lucas
• Release date: Jun 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458111197

Book preview

Her Ticklish Side

By Devlin Lucas

Copyright 2012 Devlin Lucas

Smashwords Edition

Cover illustration credit:

The cover of this book features licensed material from momentimages/Getty Images. The licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material, if any, is a model.

Publisher’s note:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author does not condone, encourage, or suggest involvement of piracy in any means except as a fictional plot device.

Chapter I

So. I hate apartments. There’re a lot of reasons to. Nothing’s really yours. You’re pissing money away for rent. You’re afraid to nail something into the wall, because they’ll try to charge you twenty bucks for the toothpaste they’ll fill the hole with. Blah blah. I get it. I can deal with that shit. It’s the shared walls that really chap my ass. I mean, I’m a nice guy. I’m respectful. I hold the door open for people. When someone hands me a receipt, I always wish them a good day. And I usually even mean it. But when I’m in the alleged comfort of my own home, and I can hear the bass of every little thing coming through a shared wall? Well. Bloodlust rising. Here comes a heart attack before 30.

Don’t get me wrong. There are nice things too. When the dryer breaks? They fix it. When it snows? They shovel the driveway. There’s a racquetball court. Sure, I don’t play, but it’s nice to know that I could. There’s a gym too. And by gym, I mean two treadmills, an elliptical, and a few weight machines. Not many tenants use it. I do, because it jumpstarts my morning. Plus, it’s only a couple of minutes away from my building.

Oh, and there’s Harmony too. Now, I’m not referring to the agreeable sound of musical notes. I mean, I did capitalize it. We’re talking serious proper pronoun action here. But you don’t care about grammar. You’re just waiting to know who Harmony is. I understand.

Harmony also works out in the morning. Like me, she prefers to run for the better part of an hour. I may or may not have slightly altered my A.M. routine to find myself matched with her exercise schedule a bit better. For further questions on that particular subject, I refer you to the U.S. Constitution, Amendment 5. There’s some relevance in there, I’m sure of it.

I know what you want to know, so I’ll put it this way. In the summer, she runs in little shorts. She typically either wears red, blue, or grey. I think I was first witness to red, so that plays in my fantasies the most. Her thighs are just… exquisite. When it gets colder, she wears those heavenly-tight workout pants. The ones that stop just past the knees, but make damn well sure you know what her ass looks like.

Her shirts err on the side of conservative. Never has she shown up in just a sports bra. It’s typically a tee-shirt or, when the sun comes out to play, I may get lucky with some shoulder cleavage by way of a tank-top. That may not sound like much, but when put together with her slender neck, her collarbone, and those perfect arms… Well. Let’s just say I wish it was sunny year-round.

Pony tail. Her hair is always up when she works out. It’s always down, around her shoulders, the rest of the time. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I don’t stalk her. I run into her often enough outside my apartment door. See, that’s the extra bit of fun to the story. She’s my neighbor. Don’t get too excited, though. You should know that, to my everlasting chagrin, she has a boyfriend.

I don’t know too much about him. He’s a decent enough guy, I guess. He doesn’t live with her, but stays over more often than not. And since he doesn’t drive an obnoxious car or have an aggravating haircut, it’s hard to legitimately dislike him on principle. At least he gets up and leaves for work unusually early in the morning, so when I get to see Harmony in the gym, I get to see her alone.

But back to the shared wall. They must have a really nice sound system. Because if they decide to watch a movie, or probably even C-Span, I can hear the dull thumping of bass right through that paper-thin partition. It’s annoying enough that my gorgeous neighbor is taken. It’s fucking aggravating that I’m notified every time the happy couple watches TV.

Chapter II

Now keep in mind, this little problem is just in the living room. And the kitchen too, since they’re practically the same space. Luckily the bedroom is far enough away that I have a functional retreat. And yes, this does imply that it’s just their damn sound system that I hear. I’m not talking about the rhythmic thumping caused by other activities, chiefly immortalized by way of cheap motel rooms.

Which is good for me. I’m not a masochist. I prefer not to be reminded of the intimacy of their relationship. It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything. Considerable crush? Sure. Is she the first stop for my imagination train on lonely nights? You figure it out. But these are the natural tendencies of any red-blooded male.

The fact is simply that we’re friendly. I’d almost go so far as to say that we’re friends. If we happen to see each other outside our doors, we’ll often chat for a couple of minutes. You know, more than the typical ‘Hey, how are ya?’ as required by the law of politesse. In the gym, we always see each other as a friendly face. Hell, she’s even said I’m her de facto workout buddy. She claims that I’m the biggest reason she stays on her routine so well. Because since I’m always there, it gives her incentive to show up too. You know, the idea that if someone else knows that she’s slacking, it adds to the guilt- err- motivation.

So there you have it. That’s the lay of the land. Two neighbors, one a beautiful (and woefully taken) girl. The other, a criminally handsome man. Okay, maybe I’m not breaking any laws, but I’m no slouch. The point is that we’re just one 16th century English poet away from star-crossed lovers. And seeing as I’m not going to be dropping many rhymes, I guess we’ll have to settle for something a bit less dramatic.

However, there is a twist! Or at least a plot.

See, I’m in JJ306. What this means is, I’m in building JJ, apartment 306. Just to make sure you understand, that means I’m on the third floor, on the ‘even’ side. Below me is 204, and below them is 102. Harmony is 305. I’m telling you this not to drown you with meticulous detail, but because it is not unheard of, in the grand scheme of address scribbles, for a 5 to be misconstrued as a 6, or vice versa.

We normally get our mail in a cluster of locked boxes a few buildings down the complex, and occasionally we get a letter meant for the other. We swap it around, no big deal. And forgive me for one more digression, but really, it is pertinent, I promise.

When a package is delivered, and it doesn’t fit in our mailbox, it is supposed to be handed to an apartment employee in the front office. The United States Postal Service always seems to follow this rule pretty well. Maybe because they’re federal employees. That patriotic streak in them just lends itself to following rules. But other parcel carriers? Mercenaries. Guns-for-hire. These guys will heedlessly just leave the package on your doorstep.

Okay. Now you will understand why, when I came home after work one night, and I saw a small brown package on my doormat, I didn’t think too much of it. Sure, I didn’t order anything online recently, but it was late, and I was tired. It didn’t even faze me that, besides an address, it was unmarked. No named recipient.

Curiosity had me open it, but I was dimly assuming it was the fanciest credit card application junk ever. The brown paper fell away, along with a small sheaf of bubblewrap. And as my eyes focused in on the actual contents, my eyebrows went up, up and away!

It was a DVD, still shrink-wrapped. My eyes rested on the box, amusement and confusion swimming through my head. The cover featured a very attractive girl, lying on a bed, wearing a little skirt and... some kind of top. Doesn’t matter. It was pulled up, bunched around her breasts, exposing a long, bare tummy. Her hands were clutching her blouse along her chest, as if protecting herself. Eyes clenched shut, huge smile on her face.

Next to her was another pretty girl, sitting on her knees, sort of pinning the first down by leaning on her hip. She was smiling too; her fingers playfully digging into the sides of the first one’s abs. Dorm Tickling.

I flipped the box over and scanned the back. A few smaller images with more of the same. Sometimes a guy tickling, but always a girl being tickled. The summary confirmed the video was all about, and I’m quoting here, Real beautiful, real ticklish girls.

Why the hell did this get sent to me?

I looked at the packaging again. Definitely no name on the front. Then I noticed a little piece of paper that was still stuck to the bubblewrap. I pulled it out and carefully unfolded it. It was an invoice receipt and, I’ll be damned I nearly blushed, it was addressed to Harmony.

Chapter III

It was an interesting evening for me. I know I spent a decent amount of time feeling like a pervert; as if I had intentionally stolen a private piece of my neighbor’s life. Sure, I knew it was an accident. I was totally innocent! But if she found out, I mean, what would it look like?

I couldn’t even resolve whether or not I should try to somehow deliver it to her. I kept playing different scenarios out in my mind, trying to anticipate how they might pan out. Somehow, innocuous graciousness didn’t get much airtime. I figured she would either get extremely offended and file some kind of complaint against me (for what, I’m not sure), or it would be supremely awkward and we would never speak again.

Maybe I could get away with repackaging it. I experimented with re-wrapping the DVD back up, but I had torn the original material pretty recklessly. I’d have to buy something new, which wouldn’t be impossible… but somehow I managed to convince myself that Harmony obviously had some kind of background in forensics, and would immediately recognize a counterfeit job.

Maybe I’d just keep it. Or throw it away. Avoid the situation altogether. Probably the best scenario for me. Sure, she’d get screwed out of whatever she paid, but she’d probably prefer that to knowing I had it in the first place. Right?

Eventually I reached the definitive conclusion to postpone

Reviews for Her Ticklish Side

[sammie zolen · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is one of the best books I’ve ever read!!!