Sexy Excerpt: 'Scents & Sexuality' by Doriana Chase

From 'Scents & Sexuality' by Doriana Chase. 'Scents & Sexuality' is part of Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. It is reprinted with permission from Cleis Press. This excerpt is sponsored by LELO.

People coming into the bar where I work consider me an expert on a lot of topics, due to my attendance at the local community college. I went there, first of all, because I aspired to get a GED, but certain people, observing my potential, convinced me to enroll.

I’m the first one in my family to a), get a high-school diploma, and b), go to college. I’m a late bloomer to the realization of what higher education can do for a person’s future, so I’m at least a good fifteen years older than the average college student. Not that you can tell by looking at me, or so I’m told. And I don’t mean just by the guys having a few beers in the dim lights at the bar.

I wouldn’t call myself an eavesdropper, but working behind a bar, I can’t help but overhear conversations, such as this lady, name of Lucy, bragging about her new house and her gigantic yard, and how she’s always been wanting some fancy garden, but I can tell she’s clueless about garden design.

This is where I can come in handy, I tell her. It just so happens I’m studying Medieval history and I can plan an authentic Medieval garden. She thinks this sounds really classy, which I knew she would, because I know the type, seeking self-affirmation through the perceived envy of others. She hires me to work as a consultant and invites me to her house the next day.

I didn’t intend to divulge this reality to Lucy, but the true purpose of those gardens was to provide the means to cover up all the smells of daily Medieval life. Throughout historical times, people believed that taking a bath was unhealthy, and a garden would be convenient. A person could pick some herbs and flowers and stick their nose in them when someone who had their last bath a year ago came close.

And besides, their food was half rotten. Imagine this huntsman. He kills a deer, then drags the carcass back to his house under the hot sun. My Lady, he’d say when he finally gets home days later, let’s put a ton of those herbs and spices from our authentic Medieval garden on this before we eat it to help us forget about the funny smell.

Whenever my history professor showed us slides in class, I’d interject because I’m outspoken. We’d be looking at art depicting daily historical life and I’d say, out loud, imagine how that smells.

Personally, I am partial to the natural scent of a man. It’s sexy. But even I will admit that the Medievals took it to extremes with the never bathing and all.

The next afternoon, Lucy and I were strolling around her yard, searching for the perfect spot for her future garden, when her brother Jax, the actual digger of said garden, showed up. Jax was wearing beat-up jeans that hugged his firm rear end just right, and big, construction-worker come-fuck-me boots. He was a couple days past a close shave, and his hair was in that specific state where I couldn’t decide if I wanted to reach up and gently smooth it down, or allow my fingers to idle away through it to muss it up some more.

I could feel words coming out of my mouth in a nervous tension kind of way, and I didn’t know if I was making any sense. Jax had me transfixed with those molten chocolate eyes of his. I was thinking is it hot out here or is it me?, but it wasn’t just me. Just as I was appreciating the perfect, snug fit of his T-shirt, he peeled it off and casually tossed it onto the picnic bench in the backyard. He was hair-free, tanned and toned. I got a wicked provocation to press my cheek against his damp chest, to run my tongue down his warm torso, to undo those jeans.