That Lingering Scent

It was a beautiful day and the neighborhood had that old-world charm you find in so many European cities, with deep courtyards, narrow side streets at odd angles, old and rather dusty shops, bars and restaurants everywhere, and far too much traffic for the narrow streets.

In less than five minutes, he had reached his destination.

The agency had an unimpressive front with the usual advertising for services to the moneyed community of expats.

To his surprise, the lights inside were on. Someone was at work, weekend or not. After a brief hesitation, he decided to try his luck.

A pretty girl smiled up at him from her computer.

"Yes?" she said in English. She had obviously tagged him as a foreigner and a prospect.

John dropped the agency card on her desk, explaining that he had just rented an apartment from them and that he wanted to discuss one or two things with the woman who had shown him around.

"She's off today," the girl explained in good English. "But we maintain a 24/7 service to assist clients with problems. Can I help you?"

John shook his head, thinking on his feet. There was no way he was going to tell this total stranger about his personal life, even if she was Alicia's colleague.

"Sorry, but it's something she said. We seem to have a mutual family member in England. When will she be in?" He smiled disarmingly. "You see, I'm going to London next week, and I'll be having some loose time on my hands, so I thought I'd satisfy my curiosity while I'm there. Who knows? She and I may have remote family ties. Perhaps she has a phone where I can leave a message?"

The girl smiled blandly. She obviously didn't believe a word of his story, but she couldn't very well say so to a client. He tried to look sincere, but he could tell that she had him tagged. He wouldn't be the first client who wanted to see Alicia for personal reasons. He was sure she was going to stonewall him. She surprised him, however.

"You are in luck. I am normally not allowed to give out personal numbers, but she recently mentioned something about family in England and America."

He must have looked his surprise.

"I wouldn't try this again," she murmured sweetly as she wrote down a number. "There are escort services for that sort of thing."

"You're very direct. But if you think I'm here to—well, to obtain her telephone number for personal reasons—why give it?"

She sighed.

"Because you're not old and fat like some of them and because I'm a romantic. She needs a man to shake her up."

She threw down her pen. Apparently business was slack on Sundays, because she continued with relish.

"She's never had a man for all the years she's been working here. She's always moaning about remaining a virgin until she meets her dream man. She says she met a guy once who made such an impression on her that she's never wanted another one since."

ADULT EXCERPT

Fifteen minutes he was standing again on Alicia's doorstep, impatiently ringing the bell. He almost stumbled over his words in his haste when she opened.

"I'm making a habit of standing in front of your door, but this time, please, please tell me I am right. I'll die if you make me eat dust once more."

She looked at him with blazing eyes.

"It serves you right to eat dust, you selfish, blind, detestable macho creature. I hate you!" She hit her fists angrily on his chest. "But I love you. I can't help myself. So you better come in before I forget I love you and slam the door in your face."

Her voice softened as she looked at his bewildered face.

"I've just been going through some of my old lingerie. Will you help me choose what to keep?"

He crossed the threshold.

"No," he said. He slammed the door behind him and, picking her up in his strong arms, carried her down the long corridor to the conservatory overlooking the garden.

"No. No lingerie," he repeated and threw her on the couch.

His hands clasped the slip under her dress, and before she could defend herself, he had torn it from her hips, ripping the hem of her dress, as if making her clothes pay for his angry passion.

"Stay there," he ordered and began to undress with impatient fingers, throwing off his jacket, kicking off his shoes, pulling down his pants and underwear, tearing off his tie and shirt, ripping off his socks.

The disheveled brunette with the long legs in her rumpled dress lay gasping with something else than fright or anger as he revealed his smoothly muscular body with the wide shoulders and the deep chest, the strong legs and the assured stance.

He forced her legs open ruthlessly. Ignoring her involuntary cry, he gazed drunkenly at the oval of her vagina. The strong trunk of his sex curved stiffly up at the sight of her flushed body. He was heady with the memory of her smell as he remembered her visit to his flat and realized he had not imagined it. He had seen her intimacy before with its plump lips, swollen and randy with excitement.

He looked at her with hot eyes, and she looked back, pupils dilated, mouth open, nostrils wide. Gone was their anger and frustration. The man and woman in the conservatory, primal in their desire, were ready to mate like beasts in the jungle.

He took her dress in both hands and tore it from her shoulders, leaving red wheals on the flesh of her heaving breasts. But her swollen nipples, her ragged breath, told him she didn't mind.

"This. This is what I want right now," he said.

He lowered himself onto her.

The tip of his manhood slipped inside her.

Suddenly she opened her eyes in a quick look of alarm.

"Be careful, darling," she whispered, her breath ragged with passion. "Before I forget. I'm a virgin."

"You're what?"