I had something similar happen in the first part of your story. When I was in high school, a bunch of us had ridden the bus to an away basketball game. All the jocks were on one bus. And the cheerleaders and onlookers rode the other.
I was on the bus with the cheerleaders. I sat in the 2nd to last row. Two of the cheerleaders grabbed the seat directly in front of me. One of them was tall, thin, and of Lebanese descent. Lovely, dark features. The other was a frizzy-haired blonde, but shapely in all the right places. They were both around 5'8", maybe 125-140 lbs each.
It was a long ride home. We'd stopped at a fastfood joint, gotten on with our meals (I wish I'd slipped my burger under the ladies' seat-- wasn't thinking). So halfway through the trip back there was all kinds of trash all over the floor. Smashed cups, etc.
It was starting to get dark. So I laid down on my side across two seats. That's when I noticed those 2 pair of cheerleader shoes under the bench seat in front of me, with all that debris lying around them.
So since there was no one behind or beside me, I slid my hand onto the floor and under the blonde's shoe. Her feet were pulled back under her a little. She was sitting by the aisle. As the bus bounced along the pot-holed road, her cool soles bounced up and down on my fingertips. I remember at one point she slid her both feet forward a little, so I moved my fingers with them. For a good 45 minutes she crossed her legs, recrossed them, yanked her feet back under her so the tips of her shoes were actually raking the skin on the backs of my hands forward. It hurt, but in a delicious way.
Then once we reached our destination, the driver turned on the overhead lights and a few people stood up to exit the bus. The two cheerleaders stood up, the the blonde standing squarely on my hands with both feet-- I'd spread my fingers very wide at one point as if I were grabbing a basketball. She just stood there, on my fingers, talking to her friend, waiting for the people across the aisle to collect their stuff and move out of the way.
Then she finally stepped off my fingers, into the aisle, as the Lebanese cheerleader stepped onto them. Someone was blocking the aisle further down, so they just stood there chatting.
I looked down very subtly and saw her shoes-- probably size 8 or 9-- standing on my fingers, balancing a little unsteadily. Then after a couple of minutes the ladies moved on. But neither seemed to notice what they had done. Or maybe they did, and were just trying to see if they could get a reaction out of me. Who knows?
When I got in my car I looked at my hand. It was very red and had pieces of French fries and other assorted small items ground into it. Wish I could live it all over again.
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