Its smell
Tuesday, April 14th, 2009Its smell ... that's the first thing that struck me when I loosened the top button of her blouse.
Perfume and skin ... remember, an air scent, mild like the crack of the sheet when it is clear the tree, an area of lavender and orange peel, but underneath was vetiver, ylang-ylang, but above all, strength of moss, leaves and anger falls initiating its transformation into compost, a bit of acidity, the strength of the earth. Its odor slight essence of a soft French perfume, maybe l'Air du Temps, Tresor perhaps, but below which betrayed, and his desire.
Its scent of a woman! sex was not what I was breathing, was not yet in any case, it was all over his body, like a nervous thoroughbred, like him, flushed, pale cheeks boiling crimson one point in its center all blood removed from the face. Gently, oh so gently, I kept opening his shirt one button after another.
She had closed her eyes as if to concentrate on the skin of his chest all feeling, feeling the gentle strumming of silk to withdraw from the shoulders, thread by thread, thread by thread. His body, no strings attached, appeared in all its glory as a woman, pulling me, calling me, wishing me.
She forgot it, or not as it was called, but the smell ... the smell is always remember, that I keep looking, lavender, orange peel, and desire.
