Ice

Randall panted on the street corner and fanned the tail of his suit, hoping to draw in some cool air to his body. There was none.

The air was hot, the street burned against his black shoes, the buildings breathed exhaust on him, and the sun twice-baked him in his own sweat. He had run through several tall liter bottles of water, devoured an ice cream at lunch, chewed on ice chips, and blasted the car A/C to the limit. Nothing had helped. It was the hottest day of the year and then some.

He splashed away streams of sweat clinging to his head. There must be someplace cool around here, he struggled, like the depths of a freezer. But each refuge still felt like he was toasting from within. He didn't feel sick though, just stuffy. It made sense with his clothes, but the office dress code was painfully-formal. He waved his tie against his face but felt nothing.

He thought that he might take a long lunch, hurry home, and hop in the shower or camp in front of the fridge for as long as possible, but a new assignment cut lunch short. No way he could get there and back again in time. It would have to be whatever remedies he could salvage from the roasted downtown. His time was almost up when he noticed the "Cooler Inside" store wedged between two large furniture outlets.

The window was marked by icicles and cartoonish polar landscapes. At the very least, he expected they might have a fan or cooling unit going he could hug while some salesman tried to get him to buy something expensive.

Slipping past the door with the soft tinkle of a hanging bell, Randall felt slightly cooler through the threshold but still with that vague, ever-present stuffiness. The inside was sparse, looking more like a travel or insurance agency than anything else. Plain, brown carpet led to a single table between a pair of plant ice sculptures. He was sure they had to be fake, some sort of plastic or crystal with a light sheen, but they felt cold as he approached. However, they were completely dry around the base.

"Welcome! How can I help you?"

Randall's head jerked. He was sure the chair at the table had been empty, but a woman with librarian glasses and stiff hair streaked with shocks of white and blue sat with her teal-nailed hands folded and a pale smile on her fair lips.

He smiled back and roughly cleared his throat. "Just uh...trying to keep cool on a day like this. What is this store?"

The woman spread out her hands. "A place to be cooler on the inside. I love the cold. I was born in it. My name is Jane C. Frost."

Randall snorted lightly. "Apt name. So, you sell freezers, ice, or cooling units?"

Jane set a finger on her chin, frowned, and tilted her head. "Why would I sell those things? I think they're quaint, sure, but no...I am far more personal with the cold. After all, my father created it."

With a deep breath, Randall tried to keep a smile. She was either having a bit of fun with him or she was the loopy one at this store and was getting a bit deep into her pass-the-day fantasies. Having let his mind wander into weird places during long days himself, he indulged her, "His name wouldn't happen to be...Jack, would it?"

She flashed a wide grin. "Have you met him? He doesn't really come into the office much anymore. Too busy testing his limits, even at twelve thousand years old. Well, in his current form. I've had to pick up the business side."

Randall shook his head and wiped away several lingering beads of sweat. Being near the ice sculptures had dried some of the sweat, but his body felt clammy and eager to start dripping again. "Only by name and reputation. Shame he isn't around on a day like this. So, what is the business side?"

"Making people cooler inside. Spreading the ice and chilling the hot. Not so much that they turn to solid ice, except for a few very-rare, reversible accidents...but so that they feel comfortable on any hot day and at home in any cooler one."

Adjusting his collar, Randall couldn't help but find that quite appealing, inquiring, "Any downsides? Like becoming emotionless or getting frostbite?"

Jane laid a finger against her cheek. "Nudist streaks, oddly enough. Of the Polar Bear Club variety. Some complain of cold hugs and hard nips. Uhh...and there is some unpredictability to ice, even though it's so nice."

His behind still sweltering, despite the room, Randall stroked his chin and asked simply, "How much?"

"All of it. All ice."

He clarified, "I mean how much does it cost to be made...icy?"

Jane opened her mouth wide before frowning. "Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that part. It's been a bummer with the rent. Okay. $1000...no! $500...or...maybe $100. At least $10 though...Or was it supposed to be $5? What works for you? I'm not really sure about money matters."

Randall wiped the moisture from his hands. He was tempted, but she seemed like a nice lady, though an odd one, so he offered her the same price as a weekend ticket to an Old West-themed water park. That seemed fair. It was the last time he felt cool and relaxed. She clapped her hands and gladly-accepted with a shake. To no surprise, her fingers felt like icicles.

He passed her the money with all expectation that she would hand him a few popsicles or a bag of ice. Either way, he figured it was worth it to have a cool respite, which had dispelled the most oppressive parts of his stuffiness.

Setting the money aside, she stood, faced him calmly, and placed a single finger to his forehead. It chilled his temple, like a compress just out of the freezer, but without the aching constriction of the veins which made holding it to the skin so painful.

Her fingers soon slid over his entire head, like a massage made of snow. With both hands, she traced down his neck and back without setting off so much as a shiver through him. He did briefly wonder if there was something extra planned for the finish, but his nethers had long ago drowned in an itchy wasteland.

Still, her touch spread and radiated through the material of his jacket and down his dense torso. By the time his hips were passed, he had neglected that a pretty lady was touching him and instead relished the fact it had wicked away the oppressive burn.

As she finished at his feet, she rose but got caught on his arm as he rotated it to enjoy the chill. He tried to catch himself, but a relaxed, gentle stiffness kept him from reacting fast enough. She stayed on her feet, but he only stopped when he hit the carpet.

At the moment of impact, Randall thought he heard the sound of ice shattering all around him. The stuffy remnant blasted away and, while chill all over, he felt so good. He also felt alarmingly-naked. All remnants of his suit were gone.

The presence of ice shards lingered till they seemed to sublimate into the ether. Looking down, Randall saw nothing but a swath of naked, soft flesh before him with only a frosty-blue bikini top and bottom to interrupt the view. Great, snow cone-like domes of breast flesh distended the cups.

His first thought was that he had somehow stripped Jane's clothes off and she was also somehow beside and on top of him with no sign of his own body, but the ridiculousness soon froze that notion in its tracks. Plus, Jane was reaching a hand down to help him up.

She softly and plaintively apologized, explaining, "The magic is also how I make ice familiars for work. In people, that part is brief but if it gets interrupted....Well, crash. Boom. That...Sorry..."

Randall marveled coolly at his body without the hot and fretful concern he expected. A look in the office's restroom mirror revealed that not only had he transformed into a pretty lady in minimal summer-wear, but she could easily pass for Jane's sister, especially with the frosty highlights in her new, flowing hair.

"As I said, familiar... so it's less like making new snowflakes than patterns. Copying my pattern. Are you...okay?"

Randall knew she should've been scared or hunched on the floor and asking for the police, a doctor, or a mental health facility in whatever order seemed best, but it was like all the fear had been whisked away like perspiration from her body.

"I'm amazing. I feel so cool. I feel so nice. I feel so ice!" Jane offered a kind smile and assured her she would contact her dad and find a way to reverse this as soon as possible. Randall fanned her hands and reassured her it was great. Sure, she was way below dress code at work now, but she could get another job. Selling snow cones on the street or carving ice or...

"Do you need some help around here? You didn't seem super busy when I arrived."

With her hands behind her head, Jane quietly admitted, "Well, I guess. You were the first person I chilled in weeks. But, next time, I need to be super careful."

Randall's mind, which wasn't iced over in the least, leapt at all sorts of ideas to drum up business with her as the receptionist and Jane as the magic maker. She already had about a dozen new names for her new shape but hadn't quite settled solidly on any.

First thing, she asked Jane to make a sign crafted of pure ice. It came out as beautifully as the nearby sculptures and didn't drip either. Without adding a lick of clothing to her body, Randall twirled on the street, basking in the frigid embrace which everyone else sweated. Finally freed from the stuffy heat and smiling at every curious eye that turned her way, she began her excited pitch.

"Become Cooler Inside! Embrace the frostest growing way to keep chill! I know you will find it the ice-est thing for your sweltering day!"