The Arizona sun was at full blast. Everyone in the campus was in the shade, sweating it out in a classroom or resting in the air-conditioned comfort of their car.
Jenny and Marshal had picked the first option, under the awning of the ice cream place. The cashier, a geriatric woman who wouldn't hurry if there was a fire, finally put up two ice cream cones on the counter. "One chocolate, one mint," she croaked.
Jenny took the ice cream cones with a thank-you and looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend. He was ordinary but handsome, a big-chested, big-handed gentle giant with black hair peeking messily out from under his cowboy hat. His brown eyes only seemed dull before you looked into them long enough, and he was the best kisser Jenny had ever known.
Before turning to him, Jenny bent over his mint ice cream, adding something to make it more interesting.
"If you hold them around the rim, they won't fall over," Marshal volunteered.
Jenny frowned. She knew Marshal didn't mean to be condescending when he said things like that, but it got old fast. But then she thought about what they'd be doing in a minute, and her smile returned. She handed him his cone, and he accepted it without suspecting a thing. They started on their ice cream before the sun could steal away all the cold.
Marshal's tongue played around the edges of the ice cream, flicking up all the softest stuff first, and came back coated in thick, milky white. Then he ran his tongue over the top, and she watched as a little wave of cream built on his tongue, then disappeared into his wet mouth.
He ate the whole ice cream cone that way, flicking and rolling, showing her every angle of his tongue covered in melting white cream. As ostentatious as it was, he made it all look maddeningly unintentional. He never seemed to notice her watching his tongue or care that she was doing it, and he made good conversation all the while. Still, she could have sworn he was showing off just to arouse her. Maybe the drug was already doing its work.
She finished her cone in a few minutes, like a normal person. Marshal, on the other and, ate about as fast as a grandpa ox. By the time he finished his cone, the sun had shifted, and Marshal was almost entirely in the direct sun.
He didn't seem to notice, though. In fact, as he glanced at her, he looked distinctly drunk, his jaw and his eyelids both hanging low. A moment later, he constituted himself and looked at her quizzically, then the confusion in his eyes turned into pure love.
"I feel funny," he said. He swiped off his hat and held it over his lap, too late to hide his straining erection from Jenny.
The drug had taken effect. Now it was time to test its main effect.
"Marshal?" said Jenny. "Why don't you take off your shirt?"
"Take off my shirt? Out here in front of God and everyone?" His arms moved on their own, rolling his shirt up his stomach. "Why?"
"Oh, no reason." Jenny watched with delight as Marshal revealed his bodybuilder physique.
