A Scented View

by Molly Moore
Dark alley in London for memories

This place looks different in the daylight.

It was a bit of a shock. My memory of it was through the filter of night. During the day I find people, a steady stream of them. Most are in office-wear but there are some that look like students, a group of men in hard hats and high-vis appear at the corner. They stand around smoking in the late afternoon sun. Dirt and grime stain their hands and faces. One of them glances over and catches me watching them. I meet his gaze. A small smile dances across my lips when he looks away first, returning his attention to the group. I wait to see if he is going to tell them they are being watched, but it is soon obvious that he does not. He looks back a couple more times shifting uncomfortable on the spot when his eyes meet mine. He gives me one more glance as the group heads back out into the main road. I wink at him. He looks away.

He is not my type.

The hanging baskets look bright and cheery their yellow flowers almost glowing in the sunshine. The street is amazingly clean considering we are in the heart of London. There is faint smell of cooking, garlic I think, it’s all rather cosmopolitan. Irritation bubbles inside me. This is not how it is meant to be but it is my own fault. You never bought me here in the daylight.

I start walking out onto the main road and back up towards the river. I find a restaurant. They have tables outside and ashtrays; The perfect place to wait. I order a drink, white wine. Then food; Pasta with a garlic and herb sauce. It is good. I take my time over it all. I don’t want to have to leave until the sun is set. Afternoon turns to evening, more and more people emerge onto the street from various buildings in which they spend their days. Most hurry past, heading for bus stops and tube stations. A few linger, waiting for friends or lovers. The restaurant gets busier but not crowded. I order another drink and continue to watch the world go about its business. Eventually the hustle and bustle subsides and along with it goes the last of the evening light. I pay the bill, leave the restaurant and retrace my steps.

This time as I round the bend I let out a little soft sigh of relief.

The absence of daylight transforms this place. The unwelcome stain of people has been washed away by the night. The flowers no longer glow with warmth but are subdued by the shadows. What felt clean and bright and wrong a few hours ago now feels dark and sinister and oh so right! I stand on the corner just like I did earlier today but this time not in dismay but to give myself an opportunity to really savour it. To drink in the perfectness of it and let my memories find their place in the actuality of being here.

As I start to walk down the street the click of my heels sound oddly loud. The last time I was here I remember my laughter filling the silence as you grabbed my hand and pulled me into this space. I was wearing heels then too but they are not the sounds that inspire my memories.

It is only a few steps though and the doorway is right there. Just as on that night with you its darkness is the perfect invitation. I slip into it, disappearing into the black. I push my back up tightly into the corner and rest my head back into the space where the brick meets the wooden frame. I close my eyes and listen. I can hear my breathing, deep and strong; anyone would think I had just run here. I pause and then there it is, your voice whispering into my ear.

“Spread your legs, dirty girl”

The air stirs and I lift my chin. I want to feel your hot breath on my neck again. I have come all this way. I want it to be right.

I gather the front of my dress up, pull my panties to one side and delve into the heat of my cunt. My fingers are strong and determined, seeking out that little nub of flesh just as you did on that night with unforgiving force, dragging my orgasms from me over and over again while your sharp teeth bit down on my neck leaving dark bruises that would take days to heal.

A noise jars me from my memory, luring me back into the now, where I am without you. I try to sink back further into the shadowy doorway. I don’t want to be seen, the idea scares me, unlike when I was with you. Then I didn’t care, all I cared about was how you were making me feel. It had not even crossed my mind to be scared then. I strain my ears, is someone coming? Can they see me? Will they hurt me? Should I give up? I listen…..

Silence. In that non silent way that all cities have.

I close my eyes again and concentrate on steadying my breathing, drawing the warm night air slowly into through my nose and then the smell hits me. I thought it was you and this place, the combination of the two but now I know that it was my scent that mingled with the city stench of this little alcove that night and filled my nostrils because I can smell it again now. It is like olfactory Viagra to me. Nothing is quite the way it was that night apart from that odour. That is a perfect match and I inhale every lusty breath of it, letting it trick my mind into making memories realities. I rub crudely at my clit, you made me sore, I will do the same thing. My cunt tightens. My thighs twitch. I hear your voice

“Cum you dirty bitch”

On the train back home I pull out my phone from my bag. The picture is perfect. The smell on my fingers is perfect. It was so worth the trip but now I can’t wait to get home. This train is too crowded.

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Marie Rebelle July 13, 2016 - 9:25 am

I love this, not only her memories, but how you described the sounds and smells around her, her feelings and her thoughts. Beautiful.

Rebel xox

Silver Eagle July 13, 2016 - 5:17 pm

So poignant…. the wellspring of erotic memories flooding into the present

sub-Bee July 17, 2016 - 9:59 pm

It’s the sounds and smells as well as feelings that create the memories. I love how you’ve managed to capture that.


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