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The sunny afternoon was a day much like any other. Clouds drifted across the blue sky in a simple canvas that ought to fit on any postcard imaginable. But your attention lay elsewhere; your eyes roved around, surveying your surroundings as you walked. Legends (read: your friends) foretold a special shop around this part of town, where one could find high-quality, rare goods from all over. Someone you knew had picked up a mint-condition figurine from a convention that took place seven years ago. The only trouble was finding the shop. You had to make more left and right turns into a side road than was reasonable. At this rate, the only kinds of people who could locate it naturally would be very curious cats.
And speaking of cats–
Pardo’s Parlor, read the wooden sign hanging on the shopfront. It had a nice ring to it. According to the directions you received, this was the place. It looked as one might expect from a corner store. Quaint, cozy, and with a hint of mystique lurking in its shadows.
But it was the shopkeeper who caught you off guard. As you marched up to the glass door, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat as you laid eyes on her.
The first thing that stole your attention was her ears–mocha brown, fluffy, and matching her hair. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, and sparkled with an energy that would have been contagious… if not for your gaze drifting down.
… what in the world is she wearing?
Too elaborate to be a swimsuit, yet too scandalous to walk around in public with. Even through the door, to where she was behind the counter, you could tell there was more exposed skin than fabric on her person, and it wasn’t even close. Just what kind of response was she expecting from passersby, strutting around like that?
You licked your dry lips, and let yourself into the shop. The ring of the hanging bell heralded your entrance, and the shopkeeper twirled around to face you.
“Oh, hiyas~”
She performed a polite, playful curtsy for you, pinching the sides of her irresponsibly short skirt as she bowed her head. And all that did was give you an eyeful of her curvy bosom, barely kept in place by her tight, black top.
“I’m Pardofelis, and purloinin’--a-ah, I mean, moneymakin’s what this cool cat is all about!”
Cool? Yeah, with her outfit, there was no way she wasn’t at least a little bit cold. Despite the drafty interior of the shop, you could feel heat spiralling out from your chest, spreading through your body in warm, wending waves. How was she not embarrassed by her state of dress (if it could even be called that)?
You raised a hand in greeting, peeling your roving gaze away from her before her soft, smooth belly could continue feeding the unwholesome fire in your gut.
The incredibly cute shopkeeper aside, Pardo’s Parlor was exactly as your friends had described it. There was some order in the chaotic arrangement of its goods–the items were arranged vaguely by color, and then vaguely by size. There were also a number of sparkly trinkets and odd-ends that didn’t seem to belong to any caste, and Pardofelis swept her tail in front of them, protectively.
“Not those ones, dear customer,” she flashed you a cheeky grin. “They ain’t for sale.”
So be it, you nodded at her to indicate you had no designs on them. Focusing on what was on sale, you let out a satisfied hum as you noticed a large HOMU plushie sitting on top of one of the shelves. It might have been just a stuffed toy, but this was a limited edition item–the Super Shiny Mega HOMU, of which only a hundred were ever made. You stepped forward, reaching out toward the stuffed toy, ready to pick it up for your collection…
…only to notice the price.
Well, that couldn’t be right. You paused and squinted at the price tag, wondering if Pardofelis had somehow accidentally added an extra digit or two.
“Something catch your eye?” she called for you, and you could hear the smirk in her voice. She knew damn well what had tripped you up.
“Just wondering about this plushie,” you feigned disinterest, hoping you wouldn’t give your intentions away. “I think you forgot to add a decimal place.”
Sure, it was a limited edition, and it was as scarce as scarce could be… but for this amount of money, you might as well start saving for a car.
“Objection,” she cooed. “I think the prices are juuuust right.”
“Well, I’m definitely not gutting myself over a stuffed toy,” you retort. “Do you think we can make a deal?”
You heard her tail swish back under the counter. The slow, shuffling sound of suspicion.
“Mmm…” Pardo bit her lip, letting one of her feline fangs show. “I’m listenin’~”
“I’ll give you… half of the asking price.”
Whap– you heard her tail smack on the floor. Pardofelis lurched upright, slamming both her hands on the counter. There was a bounciness that her outfit only helped to accentuate. You looked away before she could see where your eyes were wandering off to.
“Woah, hey, hey, no!” she scowled. “That’s stupid low! No way, no way!”
The heat in your body changed from one of subtle excitement to one of simmering upset. The price was stupid high in the first place. How did she ever expect it to sell?
“This is just a rip-off, isn’t it?” you shoot back at her.
Pardofelis sticks her tongue out at you, a playground insult.
“Is that why I’m the only customer around? Because you can’t put reasonable prices on your stuff, and only want to make a quick buck by scamming innocents?”
The catgirl’s ears flick in irritation, but she maintains her composure, planting her hands on her lusciously slender waist. You will yourself not to be distracted.
“Hell,” you dig deep within yourself, deciding where to hit her next. “I bet you dress the way you do so you can seduce them to even walk into your shop!”
WHAP– much louder, now. Pardofelis’ tail slapped the back of the counter so hard you saw her flinch in pain. Her shoulders scrunched up, and even she looked stung by your remark.
In other words, this was her weak spot.
“I mean… it’s practically a swimsuit,” you press the advance, barely able to keep the wolfish smirk off your lips as your every word hammers into her like a gavel. “If your boobs are meant to be part of the merch, your top’s doing a great job showing them off.”
“H-hey!” she whined, subconsciously reaching up to cover herself, what little good that did. Her slender arms were barely enough to hide her modesty. She was just making herself look more alluring by the second.
“And that’s not even talking about your… can we even call them pants?”
You stepped closer to Pardofelis, letting your gaze roam brazenly downwards. With her arms occupied, Pardofelis draped her tail over her miniskirt in a pitiful show of attempted modesty. Her cheeks were flushed so red you were almost worried she would catch fire. But then again, she wasn’t even wearing enough to be flammable.
“It’s…” the shopkeeper fumbled for her words. “It’s so I can move around easier!”
“In an indoor shop?” you gestured around the both of you. There wasn’t even enough space to swing a cat. What kind of exercise did she think she was gearing up for?
“It’s… easy to clean!”
“And that’s worth looking so indecent all the time? Tell me you’re not too lazy to wash a shirt, for the love of…”
“Argh!” Pardofelis stamped her foot, running fast out of excuses. “You’re so annoying! Twenty percent off, take it or leave it!”
But your attention wasn’t on the plushie anymore. Your gaze raked further down her perfect physique, tracing the plump curve of her thighs, then her taut, toned calves, every inch of creamy skin bared to the naked eye. She just looked so soft. Her boots only accentuated her silhouette.
“You’re even wearing heels,” you scoffed. “Conscious about your height as well?”
“Nya?” Pardofelis looked down. “Am I?”
One does not simply raise one leg while wearing that kind of footwear–and especially not when also trying to take a step back, and also trying to peer under her shoes to confirm whether she was or was not wearing extremely unstable high heels.
You watched in bemusement as the overcomplicated motion was all it took to have the catgirl stumble, her high heels catching the corner of the carpet. She slipped, and fell onto the ground with a thud.
“Meowch!” she yelped, rubbing her butt. “Augh, now you’ve done it…”
She was too winded to notice you neatly making your way behind the counter. But she did notice when she looked up, and inexplicably found you right in front of her.
Easy to move in, easy to wash… you wondered if Pardofelis knew how easy on the eyes her outfit was. Up close, without the bothersome counter to obscure your view of the scenery, the catgirl was a real treat to look at.
Maybe tending a shop like this wasn’t her only gig. With a sweeter smile on her face, and a slightly better personality, you could easily imagine her working as a glamour model. A heart-shaped face, veiled by calico-brown bangs, and big, beautiful blue eyes were the perfect complement to her sprightliness.
What a treat it was, then, that the rest of her body was almost completely on display.
Her skin, the color of porcelain, looked so smooth and bouncy that you couldn’t help wondering how you’d been the first person to tell her how beautiful she was. With every rise and fall of her chest, you watched her perky breasts heave through the immodestly tight fabric of her black top. It was practically just a bra, actually. You imagined how soft they would feel in the palms of your hands. Meanwhile, the collar around her neck did nothing to help her case.
Next for the viewing gallery were her arms. Just fit enough to be attractive, but not so much that she looked bulky. What was the point of wearing long gloves when they were just going to leave her shoulders–and hence, armpits–exposed? Her skirt was just as guilty. From here, you could see right under them, at the barely-there shorts that hugged her tight ass. You couldn’t quite tell from this angle, but… was she even wearing anything under that? This girl was practically asking for an ogling.
You licked your lips.
The greatest tract of land on display was her midriff. With how sorrily small her swimsuit-esque outfit was, her perfectly toned stomach looked so addictively squishy that you just wanted to reach out and touch it–like a real cat’s. A small pinch of girlish fat at her hips only added to the appeal of her flawless belly. In a word, it was erotic, plain and simple.
On that note… it wasn’t as though you couldn’t reach out and touch her, right?
Pardofelis saw the change in your eyes. But she only had time to squeak.
“Wah–”
Your hands alighted on her waist, brushing against the doughy squish of her skin. Pardofelis’ eyes shot open as you leaned in, a dark smirk on your lips.
“...you know, it’s a bad idea to expose so much skin,” you purred. “Especially to strangers.”
You gave your fingers an errant twitch– just to graze both her sides at the same time with the faintest of tickles.
“W-w-why?”
Her breath hitched in her throat twice in a single word. You had her on the ropes.
Rather than giving her a verbal answer, you gave her another tickle–a more aggressive poke to the waist. She squeaked, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“M-mmmh…” Pardofelis’ cheeks puffed out. “S-shtooop…”
She was floundering.
You leaned in, letting your fingers continue toying with her sides. They were truly as soft as you’d imagined. It was like rubbing a smooth, bouncy pillow. Every suppressed giggle of hers sent a ripple through her entire body that you felt through your hands.
You leaned in closer, until your breath brushed the tips of her feline ears.
“Tickle,” you let your whispers stimulate her just as badly. “Tickle, tickle, tickle…”
“Pff–” her eyes shot open. “W-wait, th-that’s sensiti– wahaha!”
She folded–in both senses of the word. Her squeals of laughter rang through the shop as you intensified your tickling, the catgirl’s whole body writhing and squirming beneath you as she tried to wriggle free. Of course, you had her cornered; backed against a shelf behind the counter, facing you, and with one hand on each of her irresistibly soft sides.
“Nooo– bwahaha! I can’t– pff, pffhh… hyahahagh…!”
She closed her eyes again, wiggling from side to side. Where she tried to find refuge from one of your hands, the other caught her on her way out, bouncing her right back into place.
Speaking of bouncing, her struggles only succeeded in making her look sexier by the second. She twisted left, and then right, her slender legs bumping against yours and squeezing together in a vain attempt to escape.
And maybe it was vain. If Pardofelis truly wanted you to stop, she could easily kick you in the face with those dangerous-looking high heels.
But she didn’t, and so you didn’t.
Like brushes painting a canvas of tickles all over her, you let your hands wander higher. The fact that you barely encountered any clothing on your way from her sides to her underarms was hardly surprising. She squeaked and squirmed as she felt your warm touch drift elsewhere. But the look in her wide eyes wasn’t one of disgust; sure, she was definitely annoyed, but you wondered if there was some part of her that liked being played with like this. All cats needed some petting once in a while.
“Tickle tickle~” you cooed, switching ears. Your fingers crept along her underarms, zeroing in on her armpits.
“W-waugh!” Pardofelis flailed. “Ooogh, th-thahaha– that ticklesh– bwahaha!”
“Well,” you chuckled softly, letting your fingers knead, toy, and play with her soft flesh. “That’s the point of your punishment, isn’t it?”
She could’ve at least worn sleeves, but no, no–Pardofelis was a lewd, indecent catgirl. So little of her perfect figure was left to your imagination that you could picture what she’d look like naked. She was a naughty kitten who liked to walk around in skimpy outfits, uncaring of how her bombshell body would affect the people around her.
This. This was how.
“Nyahaha– haah–” Pardofelis sagged in your grip, gasping for breath. “That’s… way more than eno–hahaha!--gh… yo-you’re pushing it…”
You kept tickling her, really squeezing your fingers into her sensitive underarms to play with her pressure points. And she kept laughing, guffawing, and wheezing for every second of it. Her creamy skin was now flushed with exertion, from the nape of her neck down to her slender legs, which had found a home wrapping around yours. She had a lovely, musical laugh with just the right amount of scratch to it–just the sort you’d expect from a catgirl as adorable as her.
You paused for a moment, giving both your fingers and Pardofelis’ weathered soul a rest. In trying to squirm away from you, all she’d succeeded in doing was backing herself even further into a corner; there was really no way out from the dead-end of you, the counter, and the shelf she was backed against. Pardofelis huffed, running a trembling hand through her sweat-matted locks. She must’ve thought it was over.
But that dark, dirty impulse inside you–the one that had found its roots the instant you stepped into the store and caught sight of this gorgeous specimen–began to blossom.
Her luscious skin boasted the shimmering sheen of sweat, and your gaze traced a drop that rolled down her chin, down her neck, down her collarbone, until it disappeared into the valley of her plump cleavage. You looked further down, watching as Pardofelis folded her hands over her midriff with a loud, gasping sigh.
“For the love of…” she mewled. “You can’t just jump on someone…”
That was a defensive gesture. You sucked in a breath in anticipation as you realized… you weren’t quite done with her yet. If she felt the need to protect her belly, then…
“It’s rude, ya know?” she patted her belly, wholly unaware that it looked like she was giving you an invitation.
You pounced.
Your hands found their way to her stomach–piercing through her halfhearted guard. And your fingers immediately got to work. Tickle, tickle, tickle.
“You–PFFGH–” her eyes shot wide open, so wide that you were worried they would pop out of her skull. So this was her weakest spot. “MMMFGH…! N… not ther–BWAHAHA!”
She didn’t have long. You kept going, tickling her with every ounce of practiced concentration you could muster. Pardofelis writhed even harder than before, jerking her body from side to side in a futile attempt to back away. Now that she was leaning right up against a shelf, there was nowhere for her to go.
“ST–AHAHAHAHA–P IHIHIHIHIT!!!”
Forcing her to laugh like that was shrill enough to make your head spin. With how hard she was laughing, and how much she was writhing beneath you, the only thing she succeeded in doing was making her breasts jiggle around in her tight, tiny top. That only made her cuter than ever.
“TH-THAHAHAT”S NOT F-FAHAHAIR–!” she couldn’t stop laughing, and you leaned to the side so her flailing legs wouldn’t accidentally kick you.
So you kept tickling her belly, making sure your skilled fingers hit all the right buttons. She could barely string words together without laughing herself into oblivion between every vowel. So intense was your flurry of tickling that you could see tears forming at the corners of her big, blue eyes.
“OOOH–HAHAHA–I’m so gonna–HAHAHAHA!”
“Can’t hear you,” you quipped, unable to keep yourself from showing your enjoyment.
The catgirl was completely at your mercy now, utterly unable to gather her wits to escape, and you had a feeling she didn’t truly want to. With her long past the point of struggling to break free, you let yourself appreciate just how soft and squishy her midriff was.
“I S-SAHAHAHAID– STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!”
You ignored her.
She must’ve let this beautiful, erotic belly of hers show because she was proud of it–she was just fit enough to evade the trap of flabbiness, but the rest of her was irresistibly pillowy. And sensitive, by the looks of how all five of her limbs thrashed in futility as you tickled her stomach without mercy.
“YO-AHAHAHA-U’RE THE WOHOHORST!”
Barely intelligible now. You smiled to yourself, satisfied at the tender state of your quarry.
“AWAHAHAHA– I SHOULDN’T HA-HAHAVE SENT CAN AWAAHAAHAHAY–!”
Can? Who the heck was Can?
“Those– errands–” Pardofelis got all of two words out before falling back into helpless laughter. “I SHO-OHOHOOHOO–LDA DONE THEM MY-HAHAHA-MYSEHEHEHELF…!”
She kept laughing, but you could hear the weariness in her maddened laughter. Even her struggling seemed to slow down. Her bouncing breasts ceased their attempts to bounce clean out of her top, until all that was left was her pert ass, bumping between your legs as she twisted–more for show than actually trying to flee.
“FIHIHIHI–FTY PERCE-HAHAHA–NT OHOHOOOOFF…!”
“Fifty percent?” you tilted your head. “That’s actually almost reasonable.”
Not like you really cared about the plushie right now. The spectacle playing out before your eyes was worth easily just as much.
“T-TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT OR LE-HEE-HEE-VE IT…!” Pardofelis sagged in your grip, even as you kept tickling her. “Pwagh… haha… th… tha’s… my f-final offer…”
“...sounds good to me,” you gave her a break at last.
The tips of your fingers were warm from all their ministrations, and, hell, were even starting to feel a little sore from all that tickling. But they remembered the soft, sensual squish of every inch of her body. Her waist, her armpits, and that glorious belly.
For her part, Pardofelis stayed where she was. A sweaty, trembling, still-laughing mess. The catgirl’s eyes fluttered open and closed with every heavy breath she heaved. Even though you backed away, she showed no sign of movement, let alone trying to run away. What little clothes she wore were dishevelled and messy from both your tickling and her struggling, nicely hugging her freshly-tickled figure as she met your lecherous gaze.
“...as… I was… s-saying,” Pardofelis barely managed to get the words out. “It’s… r-rude to jump… on someone like… that.”
And making the condemnation set her back even more. The catgirl’s composure wilted, and her breathlessness left her crippled. Left her helpless. You could do more than just tickle with your hands… a lot more.
To your surprise, Pardofelis didn’t protest as you approached her once more, this time letting your hands follow your roving eyes. No tickling–she would probably die if you subjected her to another hellish bout of laughter. You didn’t want to skip steps. There was still more of her that you wanted to explore, especially the squishy bits of her that weren’t ticklish.
That’s right, like any man of culture, you were going for her boobs.
The perky, pillow mounds that had enraptured you from the moment you laid eyes on her. You reached up, laying one hand on her tight, black top (which might as well be a bra at this point). There was no sign of dissent from her, and you could feel her quickening heartbeat through the smoothness of the fabric… as well as the pert tip of her nipple poking through it. You gave the nub a playful brush.
“Nya!” Pardofelis squeaked in surprise. “Don’t do that…”
“Oh?” you cocked your head to one side, adamantly giving her another brush, followed by a slow, decisive squeeze to the rest of her perky breast. “You don’t like it when I do?”
It fit perfectly in your hand, just as you hoped it would.
“I…” Pardofelis pouted. “It’s k-kinda weird when you… touch me there…”
“You’re not a very good liar,” you groped her breast again through her top.
Because clearly, despite what her lips up top were trying to say, you could smell the scent of her arousal from under her short, short skirt. She must have been very wet indeed.
You continued massaging her, switching your attention from her left breast to her right. You kept your actions slow and deliberate, watching the catgirl melt at your salacious touch, her mewls slipping from her trembling lips in time with your strokes.
“...o-oof,” she watched you go. No struggle, no resistance.
You grew bolder, daring to hook your fingers into her top–and pull–sliding the whole garment down. Not that it had to slide very far before both her tits bounced free of their confines. You licked your lips at the sight. Two perfectly formed, pillowy mounds, each topped with a rosy pink nipple. You pawed brazenly at her breasts, letting her low hum of pleasure reverberate through your body as well. She was enjoying herself.
Maybe a bit too much. You noticed Pardofelis squeezing her legs together as you played with her perky boobs, and the way her tail swished from side to side, teasing the hem of her already sinfully short skirt.
You gave yourself another minute of indulgence with her boobs before switching gears. Now it was time to pay attention to those slender, creamy legs that looked like they went on forever. Pardofelis remained docile as you reached down and grabbed her plump, squishy thighs; one in each hand. She was so soft your fingers felt like they would sink right in. This cat was truly made for petting. Well, heavy petting, given the way things were going.
She gave a little whine as you groped her thighs, sliding your hands up and down, committing every inch of her beautiful body to heart. The extraordinary shapeliness of her legs left you in a state of quiet, reverential awe. When this was over, you wanted to be able to taste her memory on your fingers.
“A-ah…” Pardofelis pulled her legs together, her cheeks turning even pinker. Maybe it was shame, but that was a mere distraction from the truth you could see in her half-moon eyes. This was turning her on just as much as it did to you.
You pushed your luck, shoving your hands up to the hem of her frilly skirt, the fabric teasing the back of your hands. Here, she shuddered, especially as you reached higher, sliding under that skirt of hers, feeling up the way her bottoms hugged her bottom. If they could even be called short shorts, they were so small that they didn’t even poke out from under her skirt, and all they did was accentuate the curve of her ass. You let a daring finger slide between her delectable thighs, alighting on where a honey-sweet warmth radiated out from her core.
Damn, you thought to yourself. She isn’t wearing anything under this.
“It’s really just a swimsuit, isn’t it?” you couldn’t help but comment, tracing the outline of her pussy lips through the tight, thin fabric.
Pardofelis shot you a withering glare, but did not deign to reply.
You ran your finger along her clothed slit again, savoring the sensation of her puffy lips, separated from you by just one piece of fabric.
“N-nya…!”
She lurched–and you found your finger coming away damp.
Pardofelis’ eyes swirled with arousal now. She gazed at you, too shy, too proud to say it out loud, but you knew where to take things from here.
You shushed her, slipping both your hands out from beneath her skirt, and letting them rove down her toned legs, down to the tops of her high-heeled boots that had landed you both in this mess. How ironic that her legs were the most well-covered part of her.
You slid back up, relishing the way Pardofelis jerked at your touch, and grabbed the top of her skirt. With a light tug, you pulled them down. She really wasn’t wearing a single scrap of clothing under her skirt. As you dragged the fabric away, you watched as a gossamer string of sticky nectar clung between her muff and her shorts. It snapped as you tugged the garment away, until the small, frilly skirt pooled around her ankles. Another squirm, another spasm, and another bead of love juice oozed out of her slit.
No words were needed.
Your hand danced upward, your fingers skipping on her perfect skin as you traced that warmth, that silent pleading, to the entrance of her womanhood. You slid your index finger into her folds to begin with, and curled it upwards. With how wet she already was, you had no trouble coaxing out little droplets of quim that coated your fingers, dripping off your knuckle.
“Mmnh…” Pardofelis mewled. There was no hiding her arousal now, not when you could feel how wet she was.
You kept up your ministrations, slowly starting to pump your finger in and out of her slit. Your thumb roved further upward, sliding beneath her hood to brush against her clit. She shivered at your touch, and her moans of bliss grew just a little louder.
Keeping up with her, you let your hand speed up. You added a second finger to the mix, and locked eyes with the catgirl as you watched her squirm. That perfect body of hers, with all her modesty bared to you was more alluring than ever. Her clothes could no longer hide anything from you, and hung off her trembling body like wilting petals. Your other hand stayed on her thigh, squeezing, groping and fondling her to your heart’s content. Effectively, you were assaulting her in two erogenous zones at once, and your efforts did not go unnoticed.
“Hahh… mmngh…” she whined, squeezing her eyes shut, squeezing out the tears from her tickle-induced laughter from earlier. “Th-that feels… good…”
It was about to feel better. You curled your finger at a steeper angle inside Pardofelis, admiring the way her eyes shot open. Her arms twitched like she wanted to grab you, but she didn’t have the strength. She squeaked and mewled, louder and louder as you dug at her g-spot, pleasuring the bundle of nerves inside her–and outside, with your thumb kissing her clit–until her cries reached a fever pitch.
“N-NYAAAGH–!”
She came undone at your fingertips, at the mercy of your touch and tenderness.
You let out a satisfied hum at the deluge of nectar that splattered your waiting palm, but you kept moving, kept plunging your digits into her sopping-wet slit, milking her climax for all she was worth. Her velvety folds quivered around you, gushing out more and more wetness with each spasm that racked her whole body. Her whole, beautiful body. The sigh of her long legs squeezing together and shuddering was a delight matched only by the wild heaving of her breasts as she panted, gasped, and fought to stay conscious as you caressed her intimacy.
When Pardofelis’ body had no more quim left to give, you slowly, slowly, withdrew your hand, letting it slide out of her with a pop. You let her watch as you sucked your fingers clean of her essence, and she was powerless to stop you.
You left her there, a panting, petted, sopping-wet mess. The ring of the hanging bell signalled your departure.
Many minutes later, when she was well enough to put her clothes back on, and sober enough to stand, Pardofelis plucked herself off the ground with a groan. Today’s customer had been most troublesome indeed–though not wholly unpleasant. Her attention shot to the shelf from earlier, where she noticed that the Super Shiny Mega HOMU was now missing. Just as the panic was beginning to set in, the catgirl noticed a note left on its shelf, as well as a stack of bills.
The total… seventy percent of the asking price. A heck of a lot more than she was expecting; why, part of her thought she would be outright robbed.
The reason? That was obvious. The note told her as much:
Having that much fun made it worthwhile. I’ll be back one day… expect another bout of tickling :)