Ice Cream Man Ch. 2

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She prepares her seduction.
1.1k words
4
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/20/2000
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Why was the time moving so slowly? Two weeks seemed like two years while I waited for the ice cream man's next visit. Mike had left so many open-ended suggestions the last time he made a home delivery. He was changing the route schedule so our place was the last stop of the Wednesday's route. That meant he'd be there later in the evening and wouldn't have to rush off to the next delivery site. Was he really suggesting that we get to know one another on a more personal level, or was he teasing me like I'd teased him so often over the last year? It was agony waiting for the evening to get here, but wait I had to do.

In order to occupy my idle time, I spent the hours after lunch primping and pampering myself. A glass of chilled wine to settle my nerves, or maybe it was to get my nerve up, I'm not sure which, but it helped anyway. Plenty of time for a soak in the tub with my favorite bath salts. The fragrance of country apples filled the bathroom as I filled the tub. Turn on the whirlpool and enjoy the massage it gave. By allowing some time for a deep soak I was more than ready to do the touch up shave thing. Now I know a lot of women prefer to shave their legs in the shower but I think it's a lot more fun to lean back and stretch those legs out so you can see everything and make sure no spots get missed. Besides, I love to smooth the shaving cream from my ankle to my thigh and further. I've found I really enjoy having a smoothly shaved pussy with just a triangle of curls on the front. It accentuates the availability of the folds and creases of my center most spot, not to mention the fact it cuts down on getting hairs between some lucky guy's teeth. So that's where I start. New razor blade so there aren't any knicks or pulls, one hand holding the outer lips to one side and a few slow strokes of the blade, voila....smooth skin awaiting the touch of a tongue. Repeat the process on the other side and it's ready for some action.

With the one leg resting up against the wall of the tub it's so very easy to remove the unwanted growth. All in all it doesn't take me that long, but I tend to forget that I'm doing a job and I start to play instead. I love the feel of the satiny texture it leaves and inadvertently I usually spend a little time making sure the very center is satisfied with my fingertips working my clit. I close my eyes, imagine there's another's hand exploring the folds, finding the opening and stroking the upper inside part. I never take myself beyond the point of control, just to the edge so as to be ready for later events if I can create them. But once again, I digress here....back to the story.

After rinsing off, I stood up, emptied the tub, started the shower and washed my hair. More suds to let my hands play with. Who needs a washcloth when you have your own hands to wander about your body parts? That is when you don't have another set of hands to help you. The warm cascade of water down my back coupled with the touch of my hands on my body sent shivers across my nipples. Oh only if I wasn't alone right now, it would so much nicer. But, the clock was ticking and I needed to finish getting ready just in case something more interesting was arriving at my door that evening. I dried off and took my lotion and slathered if from stem to stern, paying careful attention to my neck, knees, wrists and anywhere else that might give off some heat. If nothing happened that night, I was at least gonna smell good.

Now the big decision, what to wear? Why is it we women have so many clothes and when some important event comes up that we want to dress for, we never think anything looks right? I didn't have to worry about my legs, they were going to go bare, but what the heck was I going to cover up the rest of the sins with? I went to the closet and started searching. Shorts and a top? No that was too sporty and the shorts were too tight. Blouse and a skirt? Nothing matched right and I didn't want to wear anything too tight, it's much better to hide things you don't want accentuated, that's why I'd leave the legs show but not other things. Mmmmmmmm?? I kept digging around in there until I found it. A halter-top sun dress that was pale enough blue to let my tan show in all it's glory. It flared at the hip so the skirt would swirl nicely if I turned around, and the top covered the breast in a deep V, but exposed the tanned back. Just a touch up with the iron and I could put it on. I love having a full length mirror in the house. It allows me to check out all the angles before hand. Bit of light makeup to the eyes to make them expressive and I was set. So I thought.

I sat out on the porch watching a rosy sunset, sipping an ice tea.....waiting. I got up and had a bite to eat so my stomach wouldn't grumble about it later. I went back out to the porch, lit the citronella candles to chase away the bugs...and I waited. I went back in the house to check the calender to make sure it was the right date....it was....I waited.....and waited....and waited...and had given up on getting any ice cream that night. As I turned off the porch lights and started to make my way into the house to go to bed, a car drove in the yard. Now who the heck would be coming to the house this late in the night? It pulled up, turned off it's lights and there was Mike. I stood on the porch dumbfounded. He walked to the back of his car, opened the trunk and pulled out a cooler. Bringing it to the porch, he looked up and asked, "Bet you thought I forgot your order didn't you? Well I didn't. Here it is, same as always, two buckets of vanilla, box of Rocky Road and 6 self-rising pizza Supremes. Did I miss anything?"

I broke out laughing. "Nope, you've got it right as usual." I told him. "But you're late!"

"Well, better late than never, and I was wondering if I should do this at all" he said quietly as he took the order into the house and put it in the freezer.

Now what the heck did that mean I wondered as I followed him back outside onto the porch.

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