Stiff Necked Fools

The scent from the night before…

January 15, 2010 at 9:54 pm (Uncategorized) (Short Story)

Aroma of You

She held his shirt in her hands.  His scent was strong as she could smell it from across the room and knew that he had mistakenly left it there.  She raced to the front of her apartment opened the window just as he started to drive off. 

“Heeeeey!  You forgot your shirt…”  She bellowed.

 Unbeknownst to him he sped off in a rush.  Late for work as usual.  Their morning was started with a long greeted kiss that turned into a foreplay session that ended with cold showers.  They promised to wait as long as possible before taking it there.  Though, the tension continued to grow stronger with each encounter.  She wasn’t sure how much more they could take as their feelings grew stronger from the torturous foreplay.

She decided to call him later on the evening to let him know that he left his shirt.  Perhaps adding a joke about how he’s trying to mark his territory.  Or maybe not.  She wanted to be careful not to imply too much.  Joke or not their relationship wasn’t exactly strong enough for that type of remark.  Or at least that’s what she thought.

“Pssssh.  I guess we have a plan.”  She sighed, in a conversation with her girlfriend Jada, during lunch.  Jada had been her counselor in anything and everything involving relationships. 

“Girl, just be careful.  I’ve played that game before and it usually ends up being just that – game.   You won’t know it until he gets your cookies and you never hear from him again.” Jada yelped.

They laughed and talked about the latest fashions, music, and favorite television shows.

When she got home the first thing she saw was his shirt hanging on her leather chair.  She strategically placed it there so she would remember to call him.  Without hesitation she grabbed it and inhaled the aroma of his incented oils imported from Dubai. 

She smiled.  Carried the shirt upstairs to her room, before jumping in the tub for a relaxing hot bath.  She would call once she was done with her therapy of incented candles, smooth jazz, and glass of red.

Afterwards, as she proceeded to dial his number she heard… 

“Hello?”

“Hello?  EJ?”  She said.

“Yeah, it’s me.  How are you?”  He offered.

“I’m good, but I think you…”

“Hey, did I leave my shirt over there?”  He interrupted.

“Yep.”

“Oh good, it wasn’t in my bag.  I didn’t know what happened to it.  I thought maybe someone got me at the gym.  Where is it?”

“I’m wearing it.”  She said with a seductive smile.

Eric D. Johnson (c) 2010