“Would Sir care to sample our new fragrance, Aromatiqué?”
The voice captured his attention as he walked past the end of the perfume counter. It had a timbre that, despite his inclination to tell her that he was “too busy, but thanks all the same …”, made him stop and take interest.
“It’s quite new!”, she exclaimed, quietly, yet with a bridled enthusiasm bubbling beneath. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt-suit, lilac in colour. Classically styled, knee-length and nipped at the waist, black heels, black stockings. Her dark brown hair was scrapped back into a neat ponytail. Her makeup was heavy but subtle in comparison to some of her colleagues on the adjacent makeup concessions.
He blinked, realising that he’d appraised her in the blink of an eye. He didn’t do that sort of thing and hadn’t even been conscious of looking. She reeled off the virtues of the perfume to his glazing eyes, his wife would have appreciated the spiel no doubt but to him it was just words.
She concluded her pitch with ” … care to take a tester strip?”
Now this was one thing he did know about, having once bought his wife a bottle of expensive fragrance for Christmas and finding that on her skin it smelt like tomcat piss. “I’ll have to bring my wife in to test it out, those strips can be very misleading ..,”.
Before he’d finished she’d sprayed it on her own wrist and begun waving the card strip to aid the evaporation of the alcohol base. “Perhaps you’d like to sample it from my skin?”
“every woman’s skin is different, I don’ think …”, the perfume hit him. Not just the scent she had sprayed on her skin, but the delicate smell of her. His nostrils flared, pupils dilated and a tingle shot down his back to initiate an unexpected stirring.
Their eyes were locked together. “Special isn’t it?”, she asked. “Surprising, different, I’ll certainly consider it …”, his mind raced forward, the images it conjoured up scared him, made him feel guilty for imagining them. “… but I must go now.”
Breaking her gaze felt like a physical wrench, turning his back on her seemed to dissipate the feeling, but left him feeling as if he had turned to face a gale for a moment. It passed and he continued to the underwear department to pick up some new boxers.
He returned ten minutes later head down determined to get back to his desk before one o’clock so he could check his personal emails. But he looked up, just as she did. She had just finished talking to an old couple, who wandered away, sniffing at the thin strip of white card she had given them.
He walked towards her, “I think I would like to buy a bottle.”
“Of course Sir, come with me”
She waved her hand in the direction of the display, “These are empty display boxes, we have a problem with shoplifters I’m afraid. If you’d like to come with me to the stockroom …”. She led him behind the displays and a few meters down a brightly lit corridor. She stopped at a door and unlocked it with a key hanging from a chain on her belt. She stepped inside, a moment later, “Could you hold this for me?”.
As he crossed the threshold into the stockroom the door slammed shut. He turned to face her. “What are you doing?” But the question was irrelevant, she simply stood and waited for him.
He looked into her blue-green eyes and felt himself bewitched again. Slender tendrils of her scent wrapped themselves around him and drew him to her. Light as gossamer, strong as steel they pulled at him until his lips were millimetres from hers.
“What are you waiting for?” she said, a smile playing across her lips, chest heaving with anticipation.
Hers were the first lips his had touched since he married his wife twenty years before. Well the first that his had touched with the passion and intent that he did now. His tongue probed her mouth almost immediately, wanting to taste her, as well as smell her rich scent.
His arms slid behind her back, hers were limp at her side, waiting to be taken. Not that she didn’t want to grab him and tear off his clothes, far from it, the images of her shredding his shirt with her nails, popping his buttons, kept playing through her mind as he ravished her.
His hands grasped the cheeks of her ass. Oh, he had strong fingers, she was sure he’d leave marks where the fingertips had been, such was the force he used. She imagined the ten discoloured patches developing on her skin. She would check later in her cheval mirror.
His animal was unleashed, touching her, smelling her with short, hungry sniffs at the skin of her neck.
She began to moan, spurring him on to even greater forcefulness. He slammed her into the door and began to pull at her blouse, destroying it in his impatience to touch her waiting breasts. When his powerful hands took possession of the orbs it sent shards of icy-electric excitement slicing through her body.
He sucked her nipples for a moment, then a slight movement of air brought a new element to the assault on his olfactory organ. He looked at her, his lip curled into a snarling smile and he dropped to his knees.
He began to lift the hem of her skirt. It hugged her hips, so she allowed herself to help him. Even her self control was deserting her now. They both knew what she wanted and to delay would send her insane.
He nuzzled into her crotch, nose pressing the wet black panties into her hot swollen mound. He tugged at the inconsequential triangle of silk, discarding its tattered remains on the floor.
In one long slow, probing movement he licked her sex from between her hips to clitoris. “Aaaaaah”, was the only possible reaction she could have had.
He dragged her to the floor and buried his head between her soft thighs, stocking tops and suspenders rubbing his ears while he devoured her. He opened her inner lips with his tongue, exploring their delicate geography with a tenderness that seemed at odds with his animal passion. It was just a prelude to his lingual symphony.
She grasped her own nipples, stroking and squeezing them as she felt the muscular animal lick, tickle and probe her. His face was wet with her, the heady scent filling his nostrils and driving him to even more frantic efforts. Her moans of pleasure merged into one ululatant exaltation.
With his face dripped with her moisture he slid to one side and lay his head on her inner thigh.
She returned home triumphant. Just a few more adjustments and it would be ready …
… increase the speed of entrapment with a few more drops of this … reduce the intensity of their passion, just a little, by reducing this …
By four in the morning it was complete. The small vial of the final version of Aromatiqué stood in the test tube rack amongst hundreds of prototypes. She slumped in a leather armchair and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of her stills, refining a steady supply of exotic essences.
And she dreamed of testing the ultimate Aromatiqué, today’s blend had been amazing, tomorrow’s would be legendary.