Guilty as Charged

that I think about it, I wonder how many other moms walk around with these tumblers with alcohol inside?  That’s actually pretty genius.
“Oh, the kids do. But that’s not why the moms show up.”  Ally juts her chin in the direction of the run-down van that I feel all ice cream men have to own, one that’s a borderline kidnapping cliché, as I see moms disperse from their houses with kids hauled behind them, almost more excited at the prospect of a delicious frozen treat than the children.  One mom is about to rip the arm off her daughter as she power walks to the vehicle.
“Am I missing something?”
Ally just shakes her head as she hands Taryn a ten-dollar bill and she marches away to wait in line.  “I can’t believe I haven’t told you about Jared yet.”
“Jared? You’re on a first name basis with the ice cream man?”
“Hell yeah I am. And this is why.”  As we get closer to the van, the tanned and bare chest of the driver peeks through the open window as he stands to retrieve a treat for the little girl in front of him, giving us a view of his navy blue board shorts hanging low on his hips.  And as he sits back down, Abercrombie blows up my phone asking for their model back.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as I’m blinded by pearly white teeth peeking beneath full pink lips dusted with day old scruff.  His radiant blue eyes lock onto my own aqua irises as reddish-brown hair falls over his forehead, and then he flashes me a wink.
I think my panties just melted.
“Right? God, what a fine piece of ass.”
“When did Jared start showing up?”  I ask, tilting my head to the side as I study the way his muscles ripple when he moves while he flirts with every mom that goes up to his window.
“About a month ago. He’s a college student home for the summer. His parents live a few blocks over in the housing track and he’s just trying to make some extra money.”
I eye my friend from the side.  “Do you know his birthday and shoe size too?”
Ally swats my arm.  “I know he’s twenty, and by how tall he is, I’m guessing at least an eleven, hopefully a thirteen.”
I can’t help but chuckle.  “Need I remind you that you have a husband?”
She shrugs.  “I’m not saying I’d do anything with that, but come on,” she says, gesturing toward him with her hand.  “How can you not appreciate that fine piece of man?”
“He is awfully pretty.”  I reach up to scratch an itch on my face, but feel drool seeping out of the corner of my mouth and make sure to wipe it away discretely.
She jumps in front of me, blocking the view of my new spank bank material.  “You should go talk to him!”
“What? No. He’s way too young.”
“He’s only twenty. I bet his stamina is incredible.”  She wiggles her eyebrows at me again.
“I’m telling Collin you’re talking about him like this,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“Collin and I have married sex, Sydney. It’s great and I love him, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not the same as twenty-something, no-strings-attached, romp-in-the-sack, hair-pulling and nail-biting casual sex.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my laugh.  “I think you’ve failed to remember that I’ve never done that.”
“I know. Your prude-meter is off the charts. And that’s why I think you need to before daddy-dearest marries you off to Andrew.”
The sigh that leaves my mouth resonates between us.  Ally knows more than anyone that my father is hell bent on setting me up with Andrew Benton, the son of his friend whose family runs in the same circles as ours.  Andrew reminds me of Elle’s boyfriend from Legally Blonde that she chases after in law school.  He’s pompous, thinks he’s powerful because his family has money, and wears khakis and sweater vests as everyday attire.  He’s looking for a wife that fits the image he’s trying to uphold, and since our families both operate that way, all the men think I’m the best fit.  His perfectly quaffed hair matches his paid-for tan, and even though I’ve told him numerous times that I’m not interested, he refuses to give up, much like my father.  And my father is adamant that the two of us marrying each other would provide me with even more protection after the attack I survived a few months ago.
“That’s not happening. I refuse. But bringing home Jared will not help me advocate for my denial.”
“I’m not saying marry the guy.”  She rolls her eyes at me.  “But wouldn’t he be fun to take for a ride? I obviously can’t, but there’s nothing stopping you.”
I look around the throngs of married women gathered near the ice cream van, practically foaming at the mouths.  Either they’re grossly unsatisfied in their marriages, or the allure of the forbidden is too much to contain.  Of course, I wouldn’t know either since I’m twenty-eight and unmarried, and I’ve never truly given in to the desires I feel at night—the need to be handled with control, the quest to be deprived of air from an overpowering orgasm, the longing to see marks on my body from being pleased by a man that knows what he’s doing.
Not even Ally knows about my true fantasies, but if you read enough romance novels, you’re bound to develop a few.
“Mommy! I got a Minion!”  Taryn comes rushing over, interrupting our conversation as she shoves the treat up at Ally to open it.
“It’s actually Tweety bird, baby,” Ally replies.
Taryn’s face scrunches up inquisitively.  “What’s Tweety?”
I gasp dramatically.  “Oh, my heart. Your child isn’t aware of who Tweety is?”
“It’s not like they play the classic Looney Tunes cartoons anymore on television. Don’t worry, I won’t raise my kids without them knowing who the original cartoons were.”  Ally removes the wrapper from Taryn’s ice cream and then makes her way up closer to