by Blue24U

"I don't believe you made me come just by tickling my feet and sucking my toes."

"Magic," He said with a smile. "Would you like to see me levitate a barefoot girl?"

I grinned and looked at the slippers, lying on the stage floor. "I guess I won't need my slippers, huh?"

"Nope." He took my hand and led me to another area of the stage. "We have lots of illusions to rehearse. Ever seen The Zig-Zag Lady?" I giggled and took his arm, following across the highly polished stage floor. It was chilly beneath my bare feet and I wished for a moment that I had put the slippers back on anyway. But my toes were still wet and still tingling. So was my crotch. My feet had been tickled many times in the course of my life, but toe-sucking was a new experience for me, one that I would have to try again.

"Tell you what," he said, dark eyes flashing with a grin, "you can watch my new levitation illusion and tell me what you think."

"Well, sure. Why not?"

He dragged over a gaudily painted prop trunk for me to sit on. I sat down and pulled my knees up, hooking my bare heels on the edge of the lid. "I thought you said all your other assistants were off, today."

"I didn't say they were off, I said they wouldn't be needed for a while. They've been around." He flashed another bright smile at me, and gave a flourish with his arm. The truss lights overhead went down and a single spot shone on him, leaving the rest of the stage in darkness. I watched and waited. Music began to play and I recognized Lloyd Webber's "Music of the Night." Michael Crawford's mellow tenor voice filled the auditorium.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation..."

With a second flourish, another spot light clicked on, illuminating something that looked like a giant musicbox. It was painted glossy white, with gilt trim and an equally out-sized wind up key on the side, it stood in the center of the stage, where there had been nothing a moment before. A figure of a ballerina stood atop the great box, en Pointe, her arms and one graceful leg stretched out in arabesque. A tiny tiara glittered on her head. Even on the giant box, she stood barely larger than a child. He wound the key with exaggerated industry, and the figure began to turn. It was then that I realized that the dancer was real- a tiny Asian girl with delicate features and gorgeous tawny skin, dark and exotic against the shimmering material of her costume. She turned atop the box in gentle pirouettes.

"Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."

He motioned with his hands, and the music box moved forward, the spots merging into one. As it came closer to me, I could see that she wasn't wearing Pointe shoes, but simple faux-ballet slippers, more like exercise slippers, or like the ones I had been wearing earlier. Pointe shoes have packing in the toe, and wrappings around the ankle. No woman could possibly stand en Pointe like that without proper shoes, not on her own toes. Then I saw that her toe didn't actually touch the top of the box. She seemed to turn slowly above the top, her pointed toe a scant half inch above it. He knelt beside the box, and gently inserted a finger beneath the pirouetting toe. Assistants in dark costumes wheeled the music box aside, leaving the little Asian ballerina turning atop his index finger. The effect was very good and very unexpected. He rose slowly to his feet, and the ballerina rose with him. He extended another finger and shifted her delicately to the other hand. She shifted to a different position, an attitude derriere, still holding the Pointe. He turned to face the empty auditorium.

"Turn your face away from the garish light of day Turn your thoughts away from cold, un-feeling light...And listen to the Music of the Night"

She shifted effortlessly to an attitude devant, with one leg raised before her. He took her extended foot in his hand and arrested her pirouettes. Gently, he slid the heel of the little slipper loose and eased it from her foot. It was a tiny foot, no bigger than a size 3 or 4. Her toes were long and slender and unblemished with any callous or bunion that I could see. Not a real ballerina's foot.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams...."

She lowered the leg, her pointing bare toe on his finger as she lifted the other leg. He removed the second slipper as he had the first. Taking her pointed toe between his thumb and forefinger, he swung her foot gently and she began to pirouette once more, shifting to an arabesque allogee.

"Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar...."

He withdrew his finger and she continued to turn slowly in mid-air, her tiny bare toe pointing five feet above the stage floor. The assistants in dark tights returned and they waved and twirled long silk banners, fully two feet wide and twelve feet long, below and above her, encircling her in flowing silk as she swung above the floor.

"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication...."

He gestured with both hands and she swung into the air, higher and higher, out over the empty seats, leaping through the air with eerie grace, supported by nothing that I could see. Her little toenails flashed in the lights. I had an absurd vision of Santa's reindeer, dashing through the night, when the music came to a wobbly chattering halt. The lights, apparently in sinc with the music, wobbled to a halt also. So did the tiny dancer. She opened her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, her tiny toes tapping in the air. "Sorry!" came the shout from off-stage. "The disc jumped and we lost the sequencing-" "Never mind," he laughed. "Swing her back." The tiny dancer swung back over the stage and stopped before him, her toes still four feet from the floor. He grabbed one dainty ankle and held her foot out before him. "No point wasting the set-up."

"What are you doing?" she asked in a cautious voice. "What I think you're doing?"

He smiled that dazzling smile and began to stroke the sole of her tiny foot. The little toes curled and wiggled and she giggled musically, hanging there in the air. He grinned over at me. "This part isn't in the public show." He tickled her foot, much as he had mine (except for the damn paintbrush!), as she kicked with the other foot in the air. He swapped feet, assaulting the other one with talented magician's fingers, tickling beneath her toes and across the ball of her foot. She giggled and struggled half-heartedly, her tiny toes wiggling and curling as the foot twitched furiously. He pulled her gently over to where I sat on the trunk, still tickling her foot. "Here, you take one." He offered one bare foot to me and I took it in my hands. Her feet were indeed tiny. Soft and smooth and tiny. And ticklish. I raked a nail up her arch and she jerked. We tickled her feet for several minutes, and in spite of the kicking and squirming and wiggling toes, I think she enjoyed it. Her laughter was sensuous and enticing. I remembered how my own foot-tickling had affected me only a little while ago. Maddening at first, then almost erotic. Well, almost, nothing. It WAS erotic. We tickled her feet in earnest, holding her ankles and grinning like idiots as she giggled and wiggled her toes. After a few minutes, he handed me her other foot, and motioned to an assistant. The poor erstwhile-ballerina caught her breath as I held her smooth little feet in my hands. I rubbed a thumb over her toes, admiring her neat toenails and soft arches. An assistant handed him a large cloak, which he threw across his shoulders. He took her feet gently from me. I let them go, reluctantly.

"We'll improvise a little," he said, pulling her along by one big toe. He whipped the cloak off his shoulder and whirled it over and around her, as the assistants had done with the silk streamers. There was no sign of wires or goose-necks or any other traditional levitation rigs. I tucked my bare feet closer up beneath me and watched.

He flung the cloak over her, covering her until only her elegant little feet were exposed. She held them together, toes pointed. He put a fingertip beneath her big toe and lifted her higher, till her feet were shoulder high on his lanky frame. He winked over at me, and approached her feet. He gave each foot one more stroke up the arch, and as she wiggled and spread the toes on her right foot, he leaned close and placed the big toe in his mouth. I felt a fresh quiver through my loins as he sucked her long toes. Her left foot squirmed and she stroked her toes through his hair. He took the left foot and adroitly placed the big toe in his mouth, alongside its mate on the right foot. Sucking both toes, he held his hands out wide and turned in a slow circle. The cloaked ballerina swung in a circle with him, her toes clamped in his lips. I heard several sharp pops, and looked down in surprise to see my own toes curled tightly. I was becoming aroused once more. With obvious reluctance, he released her toes and kissed the instep of each foot. He pulled up an edge of the cloak and covered her bare feet carefully. Her toes twitched once beneath the dark fabric. He smiled darkly at me and took the cloak in his hand. He raised it enough for me to see the tiny bare toes, then lowered it for a moment before suddenly snatching it away. The air was empty before us. The only things missing were the musical cues and the collective gasp from the audience. I was too entranced to gasp.

He dropped the cloak to the floor and sat on the trunk beside me, grinning smugly.

"How'd you do that? I asked like a rube.

"I told you. Magic."

I was about to say something smartass when there came a knock on the lid of the trunk. I jumped up, the floor once again chilly beneath my bare feet. He laughed delightedly and stood up, opening the trunk. She rose from inside, the barefoot ballerina, and took his offered hand. She stepped over the side and I looked at her feet. Her big toes were still wet. She looked down at my arched toes and grinned crookedly. "Next time you saw her in half, I wanna help." She winked and hurried off the stage. He closed the lid and sat down, laughing.

"You should see the look on your face."

I felt my face redden. "So, what about that Zig-zag? You promised to show me the Zig-zag."

He rose, finger to his chin. "Well, it's not just a Zig-zag. I've modified it a little. And I'll do more than show it to you; I'll give you a ride in it."

"Hmm. I guess bare feet will be okay for this?"

"As always, bare feet will be required!" He smiled down at my toes. "Feet as lovely as yours should be bare all the time."

"Well, maybe as long as I'm doing this assistant gig for you." I followed him, my arm in his once more.

"You ever consider changing careers? Country singers come and go, but feet like yours are once in a lifetime."

"Uh-huh. Keep talking." I followed along at his side, wondering how many times a day a magician's assistant would get to rehearse....