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Rated: 18+ · Assignment · Entertainment · #1673736
Segment 2, Scent, Excite When You Write
WC 794

The Scent

Miranda was not particularly attractive. She was a smidgen overweight, smug and walked around like a penguin. She glanced at the calendar. On it she had placed some artsy little stick on flowers. One was pasted on the third day in May. On the sixteenth, she had another. The flowers were to remind her about the curse.

This was not exactly the same curse that all the other girls experienced. She had that one too, and it was no big deal. No, the curse that began today, the Sixteenth of May, was entirely different and it was a big deal.

She remembered when she was twelve, seeing a female basset, chased by a pack of males. Her mother told her, that was what happened to a bitch when she went into heat. That the scent of the female would attract every male from blocks around. Glad I’m not a dog, she remembered thinking.

As she got older, she began to notice, that from the thirteenth to the fifteenth day, following the onset of menstruation, she began to develop a scent. It smelled like lilacs and it was very subtle. It would hang elusively in the air for about three days and during that period it had a compelling influence on the men around her. Actually, if you had to have one, she told herself, this was not such a bad curse to have.

It wasn’t like the men would suddenly rush up and started groping her or anything like that, but rather how they’d gather around the water cooler, walk slowly by her desk, and pause to speak, where at other times, they hardly gave her the time of day.

This morning however, on the most cursed of days, her boss had summoned her into his office.

“I need some “Dictation,”” he said with way too much emphasis on the “Dict….“ She sat down, pulled her dress over her knees, took out her steno pad and paused, waiting for him to begin.

“Ahem! Ahem,” he said clearing his throat. “To Hammurabi Smith and Associates: It has come to our attention that your firm is once more delinquent…”

“Do you think that’s too strong an opening?” he asked, solicitously.

Ordinarily, he treated her with ambivalence. Ordinarily, he didn’t give a damn what she thought. Ordinarily, he avoided her like she had a birth defect. But this was no ordinary time.

He began to sweat and it overwhelmed his deodorant. He smelled like a migrant farm worker. He stepped behind, looking over her shoulder like he could read shorthand, like he had trouble remembering that stupid little sentence. His fly poked out like a tent pole, brushing her neck. It was seeping and a wet spot was beginning to show. It had the aroma her brothers used to leave behind, after they wacked off in the bathroom.

“Let me give this matter some more thought,” he said. “Allow me to compose my thinking and we’ll finish the letter later.”

She got up and walked back to her desk. Several of her male coworkers were standing in the vicinity. Their aftershave reminded her of the men’s cologne counter at Macy’s. She would have thought by now they’d have learned the meaning of “moderation.”

She adjusted her blouse and waddled towards them, reveling in the power of her body. They made way, looking back nervously, as she toddled along to the elevator.

When the door opened she saw Jody. All the young girls had a crush on him. His jaw dropped open. She gestured for him to stop and he stepped backward. The door closed on the two of them and the car began to descend. She pressed the emergency stop button and the elevator lurched to a halt. The fan stopped running. The heat was oppressive.

“Opps!” she said sarcastically, “Wrong button.” She picked up her dress and began fanning with the hem. The smell of lilacs filled the confined space. It was pungent and overwhelming. Jody fell to his knees, a pleading look in his eyes. She turned to him, her features livid.

“Isn’t there something you want to apologize for?” she asked.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called. I meant to, I really did.”

She stepped closer, still fanning. “Isn’t there something you want to ask?”

“How about dinner tonight?” he said, nervously.

She pressed herself into his face; her hands behind his head.

“And what else?”

“A movie, I’ll take you to a movie.”

“And then?”

“We’ll go to my place.”

“You’ve been a bad boy, Jody. Seven o’clock sharp and don’t keep me waiting.”

She hit the Resume button, and there was a whirring sound. The door opened and she bobbed out into the foyer.

WC 794

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