Write On Wednesdays … I remember


Write On Wednesdays


I remember leaning in, taking hold of his arm and giving it a good sniff. I inhaled his smell. Deeply and luxuriantly, I breathed him in. I couldn’t say why I wanted to smell him, only that I did. He was bemused but allowed me to press my nose to his forearm. At this stage of the wonder at meeting someone who he really liked, I think he would have let me do pretty much anything I liked.

The smell was exquisite to my love worn and tired senses. It was manly and clean and warm. I liked it at once. Perhaps, I had read something about new lovers and how the pheromones attract, like moths to a flame. Perhaps I temporarily took leave of my senses. I don’t know now.

It was very late in the evening. It was to be an anti-climatic inhale. Soon he would graciously thank me. Tell me how much he enjoyed my company. And suddenly he would be gone. Forever after that moment there would be a him shaped hole inside my soul when he wasn’t right there next to me.

That smell of his warm delicious skin remains with me. Now, it is so familiar to me, I can’t perceive it again in quite the same way.