Bootyful Ice LaFox

The girl struts up in a pencil skirt and asks the guy why the hell he picked "Ice" for his stage name, like he's some brainfreeze prick. "'Cause maybe you're the idiot who likes his sauces served ice-cold?" She snorts, spits into the damn microphone, and laughs. She smacks her backside, exaggerating how soft and round those buns are. "Oh right, you're warming me up fast enough. Feels like my pussy's deep-fried down there, burning, needing a hot fuck. Want a lick at the flames?" "If being a frozen guy fires up your mouth? Consider it charity, kid. I service flamethrowers." She shoves the mic down. That twitch, that naughty dip of tone in his otherwise straightforward "I risk melting you," was the witty jab. The music crawled into him and rose—he is ice that sizzles on sizzling girl flesh.