Backstage of Ice cream baby -1.

She licked a stripe up the side of the melting cone and let the vanilla drip onto her bare skin. The afternoon heat clung to her. She watched the white trail slide between her breasts before the tip of her tongue caught it, leaving a sticky gloss that caught the light. Each swallow worked her throat as the cold chased down her sternum, sharp against the flush rising across her chest. The cone tilted again. Another slow drip. This time she caught it lower, letting it slip across her belly until it threatened to soak the waistband of her barely-there shorts. Her nipples tightened in the sudden cold, dark and obvious beneath the thin fabric. She arched her back slightly so the rivulets could run farther, pleased when they left goosebumps in their wake. The sun pressed hot against her shoulders. Every drop of ice cream that escaped tasted sweeter for how quickly the heat tried to steal it away. She tilted the cone one last time, caught the final bead right above her hip, and smiled when her fingers came away slick and cool.