Home > fantasy, writing > Intertwinings, pt. 2: ice cream

Intertwinings, pt. 2: ice cream

She met up with him again later that week. No, that isn’t quite right. He took her out, later that week. She could feel that subtle shift already, could feel the shimmering of her nerves and fast-beating heart as she answered his call, listened to his voice telling her he wanted to see her again, suggested plans that held an undertone of unquestionable order.

He would see her again.

She sensed the bait, the lure in his voice and command, and sank into that temptation, completing the shift in her agreement of his plans. An agreement that penetrated her much more than the innocent plans seemed to hold. That induced the change in her mental semantics from subject to direct object.

Oh. How that thought had made her shiver then.

She sat at the park bench near the water fountain he had described in the call. She noted the exactness of the details he had illustrated, looking around her as she waited. The little bookstore and coffeeshop that was directly behind where she sat, a street down. Even the kinds of trees that bordered the stone path by the bench. His directions left her with complete confidence of her surroundings.

“Ah, you found the place. Good.” His sudden voice made her jump. He stood behind the bench, and she spun around to face him. He held an ice cream cone in one hand, which was half-extended towards her.

“This one’s yours.” She reached out to take it, just as he pulled his hand back and walked around to sit beside her on the bench. His eyes glinted; she was reminded of their first meeting. He extended his hand again, lifted the ice cream to the level of her mouth, and held it there. Waiting. Studying her face.

She looked at him, felt the intensity of his gaze tempered by an underlying…mirth? Only the slightest tightening of skin around the mouth, the smallest wrinkling at the corner of his eyes, suggested he was amused by her hesitation.

“I…You…?” The question died on her lips. The intention was clear, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t understand. He waited.

She opened her mouth slightly, leaning forward. Half-closed it, glancing between his eyes and the ice cream. He waited. Her tongue reached out, tentatively taking a lick. The contact with the ice cream sent an electric shock down her body that had nothing to do with its coldness. She raised her eyes and saw a transformation in his eyes…some resonance of pride and power she could not completely understand, as if the electricity she had just felt was passed through to him. He smiled as she licked the vanilla off her lips, swallowed what she had gathered on her tongue.

He retracted his arm, took a bite of the ice cream and held it back up to her lips. She realized her body had stiffened in her internal confusion and conflict, while his had remained relaxed and loose, full of a kind of playful arrogance. This drew her in even more.

He traded the ice cream back and forth between them until they finished the cone. Then he got up, took her hand, and led her to the drinking fountain they had been sitting across from.

“Time to take a drink,” he said, pressing the button and holding it. He motioned her towards the steady stream of water, and she, now entranced, leaned over and drank unquestioningly. She raised her head when he stopped the flow, licking stray drops from her lips.

That’s when he kissed her.

Cupping a hand around her neck, he pulled her to him. He kissed her fully on the mouth, dragging the breath out of her. She felt lightheaded and her senses were filled with him. The scent of his body. The texture of his lips, the stubble of his chin against her jaw.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, and she, dazed, realized he was walking her home. Again. He kept his hand at her elbow, gently steering her in directions she was already familiar with, but she was too lightheaded to protest. That small, reserved corner of her mind cried out in indignation at being led in this manner, when she was perfectly able of finding her own way home.

She paid it no mind, that small point of contact he maintained radiating with warmth that spread over her entire body. This could not be a bad thing.

pt. 1: meeting

Categories: fantasy, writing
  1. wordslut
    June 16, 2007 at 9:33 pm

    This was hotter than many an explicit love scene.

    And how much I wish I had written this beautiful sentence:

    That induced the change in her mental semantics from subject to direct object.

  2. J
    June 18, 2007 at 4:39 am

    So erotic. So cool. So refreshing…

  3. nell
    June 19, 2007 at 3:31 pm

    WS-Thank you! I cannot deny that your ice cream bar HNT photos were a source of inspiration for this! Thank you for visualizing how sexy ice cream can be ;)J-Thanks much. Refreshing indeed!

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