| . Just like before, the passengers just watched, this time, not even bothering to stand. Portia walked up to the kid and the girl. She wanted to punch the guy in the face, but she couldn�t. She just watched the spectacle like everyone else. The girl was hysterical. She was practically bouncing up and down on the floor, with her feet flailing about within the boy�s grasp as his feather darted across her soles.
�You stay back, girl,� the boy said to Portia. �I don�t think you want no more of this.� �Why don�t you let her go,� said Portia. �Why would I do that? This is fun.� �I think this is illegal.� �Really,� said the boy, with a smirk. �You gonna stop me?� |
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| tall girl |
| Portia paused. She certainly wanted to stop him, she just didn�t know if she could drum up the energy to do so. �I-I�ll stop you,� Portia stammered.
�Go ahead.� Portia sighed and watched the boy agitate the tall girl�s arches. She looked down at the squealing girl, who was all but foaming at the mouth. This continued for about five more minutes, then the train began to slow down, approaching its next stop. �I guess this is where I get off,� said the boy, putting his feather away. �The train, I mean,� he added. �You are so clever,� said Portia, flatly. �Aren�t I?� The boy took out his can of Krylon and holding the girl�s feet in the air by gripping the cuffs of her jeans, proceeded to coat her soles with yellow paint while she lay limp. �Doesn�t that look lovely?� said the boy, admiring his work. Finally, the train came to a stop and the doors opened. �Peace, y�all,� said the boy, as he dropped the girl�s feet and darted onto the platform. Portia looked after him for about ten seconds before her legs would allow her to give chase. By the time she reached the staircase, the kid was more than halfway to the top, and upon reaching street level, he and his yellow backpack was nowhere to be seen. �Fuck!� said Portia. |
| Devon Stone slowed to a jog then a stroll when he was sure that he�d lost the tall girl whom he suspected was a cop. He had to go and fuck with a cop. Not that he saw her as a threat, exactly. She didn�t appear to be the brightest bulb in the box. As he mulled over his situation, Devon walked past a Starbuck�s. He glanced over the moderately populated outdoor dining area, then saw something that made him stop in his tracks. Sitting at a table almost at the center of the patio was famous track star, Marion Jones. She was drinking coffee with a friend, just sitting here amongst everyone else. Devon couldn�t believe it. He had always loved Marion Jones. He looked down at her feet. They were crossed at the ankles under her chair. They were bare and they were out of her black clogs. Devon almost gasped audibly.
�Oh my god,� he mumbled. He headed into the Starbucks and ducked into the employee lounge. He reemerged without his backpack and wearing a Starbucks smock. He went back out to the patio area and approached an empty table behind Marion. He knelt at the table, grabbed the top of it and shook it slightly, trying to appear as though he were trying to fix it. From where he knelt, Devon had a perfect view of Marion�s huge pink soles. They were still crossed at the ankle and the toes of her top foot were brushing back and forth rapidly against the side of her bottom foot. Marion seemed not to notice him as she continued on with her conversation. Devon just sat and watched for a moment, Marin�s wrinkling soles calling out to him. Finally, he could stand it no more. He pulled his feather out of his pocket and touched it to the arch of Marion�s top foot, then pulled it down to her toes. Marion gasped and wiggled her toes. Devon began stroking the foot more rapidly, causing Marion to shriek and uncross her ankles. Devon attacked both feet, and now Marion was laughing hysterically. Marion wasn�t looking at him while she was laughing but he assumed that she�d turned and caught a glimpse of him before the tickling had gotten serious. The other diners looked on curiously but did nothing to interfere. Presently Marion tried to stand, but ended up toppling to the ground, amidst a fit of cackles. Devon continued to feather Marion�s feet as she rolled over onto her back, making it easier for him to get at the areas he wanted to torture. He slid his feather across the vigorously wiggling toes of both of Marion�s feet. This seemed to agitate her the most, as she soon lost her voice. After a few more minutes of tickling, it was time for the calling card. Devon pulled out his Krylon and coated the soles of Marion�s feet with yellow paint. With the crowd still in its trance-like state, Devon was able to go back into Starbucks, retrieve his bag and slip away without anyone attempting to stop him. |
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| Portia didn�t reach the caf� until ten minutes later where she found two police cars and the patio crowded with chattering witnesses�witnesses who couldn�t seem to give the police any useful information. Nobody seemed to know what exactly happened. Marion couldn�t shed any further light on the situation either, as she was seated in a chair lamenting the state of her yellowed feet while she was questioned by two officers. Portia flashed her badge and questioned a few witnesses as well as Marion herself, but she didn�t find out anything that she didn�t already know.
That night, Portia was at home soaking her feet in a tub of soapy water as she talked to Jori over the phone. �So you seen him?� Jori asked. �Yeah. He�s like, a fucking kid. I submitted a description down at the station, so he gonna have to start wearing a disguise now, if he don�t wanna get caught.� |
| Marion Jones |