Kelly is talking about her favorite pop artists. You think so, at least. You haven’t really been paying attention. She spilled a drop of coffee in her cleavage a few minutes ago, and your attention has been entirely occupied with how you might press yourself into her breasts, slide down into that drop, and lick it clean.

Kelly pauses, looking concerned. “Hey, um, am I maybe talking too much? You look a little uncomfortable, and I don’t want to steamroll you and just talk about stuff I like. Are you doing okay?”

Mmm, being steamrolled by Kelly. No, focus. Think of an excuse for why you’re staring at her cleavage and blushing and not saying anything.

You stutter a bit. “Er, sorry, I’m...not that great at social situations, to be honest. You’re amazing, I just, uh...” You trail off.

Kelly’s expression softens. “Oh! Yeah, that’s totally fine, some days I’m definitely not feeling it. You know, one of my friends is actually playing a gig at a bar near here. We could go check it out, if that sounds good? I don’t think there’s a cover charge. Or if there is, I could just hide you in my pocket.” She grins.

You think it over. Something where you don’t have to talk actually sounds pretty good right about now.

“Yeah, that sounds really nice! What does your friend play?”

Kelly stands up and tosses her cup in the trash. She pauses a second, looking thoughtful, then lifts you by the hips between her thumb and forefinger, placing you on her shoulder.

The acceleration is terrifying. Your chest locks up for a moment. Once you can breathe again, you gasp, and then choke on a strand of Kelly’s hair that found its way into your mouth. Her shampoo smells like the beach.

“She’s the drummer! Oh my god did I tell you? Her first gig there, she was in this short jean skirt, and she didn’t put it together that she was going to be sitting on a stool the whole time. So she’s up on the stage, and everyone else is sitting down, right, and she’s just flashing everyone the whole set--”

Kelly laughs and keeps talking as she ferries you to the bar. She’s really not great at carrying you; she has kind of a bouncy walk, and you really don’t want to fall off. As she goes down a few stairs, you pitch forward and end up spread-eagled on her shoulder, digging your arms and your thighs into her skin. This is totally not on purpose, and the fact that it lets you stare straight down her dress and watch her breasts jiggle and press against each other is a sheer coincidence. 

She’s so soft and warm. Wow. Her neck, next to you, is enormous, and you can feel soft vibrations through your whole body as she talks and laughs. And either she hasn’t noticed or she doesn’t mind, because she’s still talking, and she hasn’t asked you to move.