A Cruel Joke

“Stop it! Nooo!! Paul! STOP! I need to pee, let me go!!!” I squealed, laughing and kicking Paul in the side accidentally. He let go immediately and sat up on the bed, grabbing his left side with his hands, yelling, “Ouch, Shit! That hurt!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I gasped and sat up with him, putting my hands over my mouth.

“I think I’ll live; At least, I hope so.” He pulled off his shirt and looked at his side. “Geez, Tori, be careful where you kick next time!” I noticed a red spot already starting to appear.

“I’m sorry!!” I pouted, “But it is your fault! I told you to stop! I can’t help where my feet kick when you’re tickling me, you know it drives me crazy.” I tried apologizing and kissed his side very softly. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

I kissed him again, a little harder than the first time. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

I kissed his side one more time; again, a bit harder… and this time I licked the spot as well. “What about that?”

“A little. I think I’m gonna have some sort of bad bruise; it’s all your fault. What are you gonna do about it?” He leaned over and whispered the last part in my ear, nibbling on the lobe and sliding his hand under the back of my shirt.

“Mmm… I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I crawled away from him, got off the bed and half-skipped to the bathroom. Even at 23 years old, I know I’m really still a kid at heart. So is Pauly, for that matter. Maybe that’s why we get along so well. We can be completely playful together and neither of us thinks, ‘this is so childish.’ I mean, come on, what other couples will get in tickle fights over what to have for breakfast?!?

He had made himself comfortable on the bed while I was in the bathroom. As I came out he was laying on his side with a pillow under his head, looking at me. “So what are you going to do to make up for hurting me?” He asked as I crawled onto the bed next to him. His arm went around me and rubbed my back softly as I sat there.

“Well I don’t know.” I lied down next to him and wrapped my arms around his chest, laying my head sideways next to his chest. I closed my eyes and started placing barely there kisses wherever I could reach on his chest. “You feel so comfortable. I know it sounds weird, but it’s like, I feel safe in your arms, almost to the point where the world stops moving when I’m with you.”

“You’re always safe in my arms. I’m sure of it, and I want you to always remember that.” He wrapped his arms around my back then stiffened suddenly. He winced and mumbled “shit” as he did this, then moved away from me a bit

“I think I have an idea.” I slipped out of his arms and ran to the kitchen, returning shortly with a few pieces of ice wrapped in a dishtowel. I crawled onto the bed so I was behind his back and ran my fingers carefully over his side where I had kicked him. I gently put the wrapped up towel of ice down on him and asked him how that felt.

“I can barely feel it. It doesn’t feel cold enough”

‘Hmm.’ I thought. Then I set the towel of ice on the bed in front of his chest and picked up one cube between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I very gently and softly ran it across the spot on his side. “Does that feel any better?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.” I continued to run the ice cube across his back & side; watching it melt on his skin and drip down his back or stomach. I started massaging the lost drops of water into his skin before it hit the sheets.