Mister Tickle

Jennifer had had a rough day. The children had cried all morning, taking turns it seemed so that she did not have a single moment of peace and quiet. The washing machine had overflowed, soaking the kitchen floor and ruining a couple of bags of flour, sugar and rice that were stored at the bottom of the cupboard. The package that she had been awaiting for days finally arrived, only to discover that its contents was broken. Then to top it all of, she had burned his dinner. Burned it to a crisp.

He had just smiled. That smile and told her to meet him in the living room once the children were in bed. She knew that smile. Knew that it meant trouble. Big trouble. The kind of trouble that Jennifer loved to hate.

True to form this day, it had taken almost an hour to bath their three young children and get them to bed. It was...one more story, please Mommy. Even then she had had to go into the boys' room to break up fights twice. Only the threat of 'I'm calling your dad' finally succeeded in achieving the quiet that she had craved all day.

Now she must face the music. Her punishment for failing to maintain a calm and tranquil home for him, their children and most especially herself. It might seen archaic, chauvinistic or even abusive to some in the outside world but they had agreed from the beginning that each had their role, their talents, their job to do. His was to work and pay all the bills. Hers was to clean, cook, raise the children and maintain a home life that was conducive to bringing out the best in everyone. And she loved doing just that. Even on days like this, she was grateful that in this modern, fucked up world she had a stable and family-oriented relationship.

They had agreed that she would even dress the part with skirts, dresses and aprons that she sewed herself. She did usually forego the quintessential pearls and gloves of the fifties lifestyle. They simple were not practical. And she usually wore simple flats around the house to do the chores. But she stopped by their bedroom this night to change shoes. Her black patent leather Mary Jane's were more in keeping with the punishment that she knew was to come. Buckling them up she headed back downstairs and the man that she called husband, lover, friend, Master and sometimes Daddy.

He was waiting in the living room just as he said that he would be. Jennifer smiled as she entered the room. "Pull up a chair," he said firmly. She grabbed the one from her sewing area in the corner and sat facing him. Awaiting his pleasure. "Tell me what happened."

It all poured out then, the whole story, all the details. Jennifer ended in a great gush of tears and hiccups, "I failed you. I failed the kids. I failed."

His strong arms wrapped about her shoulders and drew her into the warmth and comfort of his body. For several long moments she cried, releasing much of the tension and stress of her long, difficult day. He dried her eyes tenderly with the white handkerchief that she had ironed that morning. He smiled at her, "Everyone has a bad day. Today was yours. You did not fail me or the children. You are a wonderful mother and wife; everything that anyone could want and more."

Jennifer smiled at her loving husband and sighed. A bit more of the tension left her exhausted body.

"Take off your shoes and give me your feet," he commanded. Jennifer nodded and complied without question. She noticed that there was a tiny run in the bottom of one of her stockings and added that to the long list of things that had gone wrong that day.

Her husband took her foot in his large hands and began to knead and rub it firmly. After a long day on them, there were moments when the massage was almost painful as it released the stress of tense muscles. Eventually Jennifer relaxed enough to close her eyes and lean back against the solid wood support of the chair. She sighed deeply.

Then she laughed aloud as fingers that had been massaging began to tickle and torture the instep at the bottom of the foot. She was soon doubled over with laughter as it filled the family living space. She felt the last of the tension give way from her body and smiled up at him, "Thank you, dear. I needed that."

He placed the foot gently on the floor and looked up at her, "Time for the other one." His smile was devilish and it took years from his handsome face. For a moment he reminded her of their sometimes troublesome sons. She smiled as she lifted the other foot up to his lap. The simple life could sometimes be the best, she thought as he began to knead and massage once more. Even though she knew the tickles would come, so too would the joy. Always the joy after the pain with this man and their simple life.