Scent. A man’s scent. A woman’s scent. It is the key.
If his scent is not right, then I do not feel aroused. It does not have to be a particular aftershave or a perfume. It is the underlying scent of the person that arouses me. Man or woman. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, tasting each delicate note in my nostrils, on my tongue and at the back of my throat, letting it fill my mind with images of what is to follow. As I write this, I can feel the warmth of his skin, the gentle touch of his fingers on my body, the dark room, the wetness. Our scents mingle and soar together. We are perfect companions.
Today I will splash a little of his aftershave on my left wrist, let it settle and then inhale. It is like a little sensual fix. I am transported every time I breathe in. I desire him. My older lover.
A poem by Baudelaire (Flowers of Evil):
When, eyes closed, on a pleasant autumn night,
I breathe the warm scent of your breast, I see
Inviting shorelines spreading out for me
Where steady sunlight dazzles in my sight.
An idle isle, where friendly nature brings
Singular trees, fruit that is savoury,
Men who are lean and vigorous and free,
Women whose frank eyes are astonishing.
Led by your fragrance to these charming shores
I see a bay of sails and masts and oars,
Still wearied from the onslaught of the waves –
While verdant tamarind’s enchanting scent,
Filling my nostrils, swirling to the brain,
Blends in my spirit with the boatmen’s chant.Advertisements