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It was an impulse. One of those whims that strike suddenly, leaving them helpless. They had to stop. They had to have ice cream!
Double dip cones, hand made ice cream. Giggling like a couple of kids, they slid into the only available booth, one in the back corner of the store.
“You’re getting all messy,” he said, watching the ice cream roll down the side of the cone onto her hand. “Maybe it’s too much for you to handle.”
“Too much for me to handle?” She raised an eyebrow at that. Twisting the cone in her hand, she looked it over carefully. “I think I’ve handled bigger,” she said, a wicked note creeping into her voice. Pressing her tongue flat against the ice cream, she licked straight up the ice cream, her eyes half-closed. Repeating the motion, she worked her way around the cone, then captured the offending drip with the tip of her tongue.
His eyes were glued to her every movement, and he swallowed hard when she stopped and looked at him. “If I apologize now,” he said, “will you stop?”