Thursday, September 14, 2006

Come Ylang

There are these blog friends who lately have gotten into this thing of writing spicier things on Thursdays. It's been fun trying to write things that are erotic while 'showing' as little as possible. This one reveals scarcely more than one bare arm. Hope you enjoy.

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"In Indonesia they spread it on the bed on their wedding night."

"Really?"

She burrowed her nose deeper into the space between his jawbone and his ear, taking another deep inhale. "What's it called? Dang-a-lang?"

"Ylang-ylang."

Deep, deep sniff. "It's heavenly." She didn't go for colognes at all, and even natural oils made her wrinkle her nose. Too many oils went overboard on the sweetness. An excess of sweetstink always gave her brain-freeze. This stuff had a sweet bouquet, but in wine terms the scent also had a deep body. When she inhaled the scene she could feel her chest relax and open up. "You know, it also mixes very well with your own, you know, your scent. That's probably why they think of it as an aphrodisiac."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that."

"Does it have that effect on you, wearing it? Does it make you horny?"

He did that bashful half-a-laugh of his and said, "It makes me feel better in my body. Brings my mood up. It works in that sense, I guess."

"Never thought about that. I guess if an aphrodisiac did work, that would be why."

She did not believe in aphrodisiacs. The thought of a substance that could magically induce horniness sounded too much like a porn writer's contrivance or an adolescent boy fantasy to her. The aphrodisiac cocktails she had tried tasted like cough syrup. Sometimes the names of the drinks were more of a turn-on then the concoctions themselves.

Now she could smell it in the air, this doorang-doorang or whatever. It was airborne and the room smelled like him. Whatever this stuff was, however it worked, she felt like all of her senses were convening in her skin and exchanging information. The shapes of the room were sensations she could feel on her back and across her belly. This polymorphous sensual response – yes, that's how an aphrodisiac would work.

His mind was working on the same idea, even though he was supposed to leave in a few minutes. He took a gulp of his coffee, trying to finish it before he had to go.

"Makes sense," he was saying. "Sensuality lives in your body and smell has a way of opening up all the gates: seeing, tasting, touching. Stimulates the mind, too."

"I can feel it all over my skin," she said. "I actually feel more alert – and it's kinda fun being alert right now."

"Where do you feel the smell?"

She stood and walked across the room away from him, inhaling.

"Bottom of my belly." Another deep breath. "My knees – weird." One more. "My scalp." She suddenly felt itchy and set down her coffee mug in order to reach her fingers into her fair and give herself a scritch.

"What about your arms?"

"Arms?"

"Yeah." He was regarding her with a curious smile, with his brows upright and his face bright. "They've been crossed for most of this conversation and you just crossed them again."

She had indeed. "So what?"

"Come here." Still smiling. Finger pointing to the space on the couch next to him. This gesture was a command. She returned to him and sat down, and put her "whaddya want?" face on him. He extended his palm. "Arm, please."

"You're going to be late."

"Arm."

"Aren't you leaving?"

"This is science. Arm. Now."

"All right already."

She presented him with her arm, which he took gently in his hands. As if examining a specimen, he brushed up and down her arm lightly with his hands, and gently rolled up her sleeve all the way to her shoulder.

"Were you concealing an erogenous zone?"

"On my arm?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Surely you jest."

"Surely not."

Tenderly, he turned arm upward and held it in both hands. He lowered his face toward it, breathed deeply through his nose, and said, "Well what about this?" Then he lowered his lips to the pit of her elbow.

Immediately, oxygen itself turned color and began to taste like steak marinated in wine. She managed to say, "You've got to be kidding—" before he began to French kiss the spot, alternating suction with teasing motions of his tongue. Her brain began to turn itself inside out. She squirmed. Her legs kicked. Speech was impossible.

"Oh my….haaaaaaaa….."

Now he drew upward and warmed the spot with his breath. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket of raw silk. From behind. Oh mercy, she was panting. How embarrassing. It simply could not be this easy. Her other arm was hitting the back of the couch and she grabbed and raked the sofa cushion with her free hand. The feet were still kicking. He had to stop this immediately. She hoped he wouldn't.

But he is a bastard, and stop he did. Very abruptly. "You're right," he said, and set her arm down by her side. "Nothing there. Hey, I've got to go."

"Oh no you don't."

"I have to go."

"You're missing your appointment."

"No, really-"

"Really. I'm afraid something has come up." She knocked him to the floor.

And that's just where she took him: there on the floor with the smell of his damned oil weaving their scents together in the air.

1 comment:

j said...

I give this:
Romance level: 3/5
Aw-C'mon-Tell-Me-Already-What-Happens level: 5/5
Strong Ending level: 3/5
What's-That-Again? level: 3/5
Hotness Level: 2/5
Reality level: 5/5

btw: I happen to know exactly what ylang-ylang is.