author: UnderHerToes
Kourtney's wondrously weighty lips weigh the situation, their imposing clout seemingly poised to deliver a crushing kiss. Then, a slight wavering in this lofty wind, and a puff of warm breath blows out from between them, "Oh, alright!" Kourtney distances her hand from her face so rapidly, you fall on your own face in the sod carpet on her palm. You turn your head and steadily the blue, cloudy horizon is blocked by rooftops and trees and heads and eyes of the onlookers. "But don't you try anything funny, Scott! Or else it's squish for you!"
"I hope she's joking," you whisper with a shudder, "I can't really tell." Kourtney's hand impacts the ground with a soft thump, and your knees are the first to react, almost catapulting you off her palm in their frightened reflex. Rolling onto the grass, your hair whips and your shirt is drawn tight to your chest by the void left by Kourtney's ascending hand. Looking back from your shoulder, you see her tip her palm over, dumping the loose plot of grass and soil from her hand into the pit from which she pulled it. Clumps of dirt pelt your cheek.
The many hundreds of curious gawkers seem to instantly crowd around you, showing you little respect as they move in for an unnecessarily close look at the enormous co-ed crouching above them. "Hey! Get out of the..! Watch it! Why don't you..! Just move!" Struggling shows little promise, so you flow with the mass, peering over shoulders and between heads for any sign of the troublemaking transposer.
Everything halts as Kourtney speaks, "This is really uncomfortable." Oh, no. What does she mean by that? What is she going to do now? These questions squeeze into mind while you remain stuck between the shoulders of two rather large athletes. "Okay, everyone needs to move back, I want to sit down now." She flashes a polite smile over the crowd, waving a hand to the many people huddled behind her buttocks. "Come on. Make room."
The whole of the spectators in all three hundred sixty degrees spread thin as they back away, affording both you and Kourtney the space to move more freely. Ahead, you watch as she slowly shifts her weight back until her bottom collides with the earth, spanning the distance from administrative office to tennis courts in tight, tense jeans. Keeping her shoes in place due to lack of leg room, she leans against a group of trees behind her. The sun appears from over her shoulder, blinding you momentarily.
"Find it yet, my little Scott?" she asks with a smile. With a hand as visor, you scan the dewdrop grass, when something sparkles with familiar shape on the obscure edge of vision. "That's it!" But then you discover where it is.
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