Smelly scents

Science fiction erotica author Shaunna Wolf joins us today. Her stories are hot, hot, hot, but her humor is cool. Help us welcome her. :)

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Today is my birthday, I'm not a party kinda person so there won't be any drinking, staying out all night or clubbing, and since my husband is not in the state at the moment, there won't be any birthday sex. No one will stop by either. When you live with several non-domestic type critters, people tend to honk the horn and wait for you to come out to them on the rare occasion they do come by.

So I decided to do the next best thing: go shopping. I don't mind shopping too much--I'm mostly an in and out kinda woman. I know what I want, have a list and coupons and, zoom, in I go prepared to battle the surging crowds and shortages of things on sale.

Being it's my birthday, I got to thinking about birthdays past, get out the good china and the glasses my mom collected when I was a kid. She got them out of Tide detergent. They even had a picture on the box of the glass inside--the box was bright orange, the box of Cheer next to it blue--nothing on those boxes said anything about what the stuff inside supposedly made your clothes smell like. The focus was on getting your clothes clean.

Now, packages scream Ocean Breeze--have you ever been to the ocean? Why do I want my clothes to smell like seaweed, dead fish, and salt air with an over scent of ozone? How about Spring Rain--wet blacktop and worms anyone? Everything seems to need a screaming scent designed to make you want to buy it sure that you must stink like a dirty litter box if you don't. You can't even pick up a magazine without being assaulted by these stinking scents.

Your car should smell like new even if it's old, your house must have a scent for every room, and your clothes should smell like they just came out of the dryer even if it's ten days later--is that after they were worn--that would be some trick. Where was that miracle the last time I went camping?

It's not so much that I object to scents, I like to use candles, melting scents and incense--I have critters after all--my main objection is this:

Why do I have to pay extra to have something unscented? Would you pay extra for a car without seats? A computer without an operating system? Foam contraception without spermicide?

Of course not, we wouldn't buy it. So why do we pay extra to get a product without stinky stuff added? I mean they add dye, they add scent, they add bleach, so why do I have to pay more to get less? Either the companies are stupid, or we the consumers are . . .

Personally, I think the companies think we are brainless. Like the people who think milk comes from a factory, like a soft drink, and not from cows at any point in its production. I have had arguments with these out of touch people who end the argument with, "Well, maybe your milk comes from a cow, but mine doesn't." Umm, ok. Maybe they are the CEO's of the charge-more-for-less-companies.

Sitting in their corner office, they have a picture of the factory where their product comes from, stuff delivered in a big tanker truck--now that it has arrived, it has to go through dye removal, that costs money, and then scent removal, that costs more. Yeah, that's got to be it.

And like thinness, everything points to the idea that we need to smell like Musk, or Black Ice, or whatever the popular idea is . . . really? Raccoons smell musky, no way I want to smell like that, and Black Ice, I've never gotten out of the car after doing donuts on it to get down on the highway and sniff it, so how do I know if I want to smell like it, but there it is--the media says my house etc. should have long lasting freshness in the form of these scents, and if I don't want to smell that way, well there you go, get your wallet out it's going to cost you more to have the scent removed.

Maybe I should move to Italy, as a culture, they accept that people smell like, well, people. Homes smell like Mama's meatballs and sauce. And windows get opened and comforters get hung out of windows to catch the morning breeze, true morning breeze fresh. All I have to do is sell my house, get a plane ticket, buy a house in Italy . . .

I saved forty-six dollars on my grocery bill, with coupons, including the $3.00 off on Tide free and clear making it only .50 cents more than the smelly stuff and a lot cheaper than moving to Italy.

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Blurb:

Jezren Darksky left Earth behind for the lure of the stars, and to escape her life on the streets. Accepted into the renowned Night Bird Warrior's Guild she never expects to find the love of her life in the form of an alien man and then lose him. After chasing three fugitives across ten worlds, and nearly losing her life in the process, Jezren returns to the Guild Home world to mark her husband's death. Lonely and guilt-ridden, Jezren makes a discovery in the arms of another non-human man that will change her life forever.

Excerpt:

"You shouldn't have tried to touch my sword. If my hand hadn't been on it..." She poured another shot of whiskey and tossed it into the fire. The flames flared brightly, lapping up the alcohol in a quick burst.

He reached with a serpent's speed and caught her hand. "I didn't want to touch your sword..." He cleared his throat and grasped her hand tighter. "I have to touch you," he whispered.

Jezren made to pull her hand out of his. He touched his lips to the back of her hand. Very slowly, his tongue slid over her flesh, long, thin at the tip getting thicker near his lips. Like his lips, it was a lighter shade of blue than the rest of him and cat rough. Jezren sucked in a breath, quick, hard-she made a small attempt to take her hand away.

He continued to stare at her, his gaze locked with hers. His ice-blue eyes now looked tinged with purple. Whiskey fire burned through her insides and streaked into her loins when he wound his tongue around one of her fingers, not just once, but in two blue swirls. He slowly pulled it back into his mouth-sliding it off one finger before circling the next one.

Jezren shivered, sure her sudden desire would be soaking the chair seat soon. Using her free hand, she took a sip of the costly amber liquid in the small bottle. She'd already had too much, not so much she couldn't think for herself, but enough that he, with his seductive tongue, had won her will.

"Perhaps," she whispered, "I should know your name." He continued to wrap and unwrap his tongue around her fingers. He turned her arm and pushed her sleeve up so he could lick the inside of her arm.

"Names, what does a name really matter?" he asked without stopping his attention to her arm.

She gasped, aware of others in the room staring at them even though she'd closed her eyes, the heat growing between her legs hotter already than the fire in the hearth. When he stroked his nails down the now sensitive flesh of her arm, she sat up straight and stared directly at him. She reached to touch his braid-her fingers meeting with smooth strands of silkiness. He laughed in a soft way that sung on her nerves and made her squeeze her legs together in self-pleasure. She could no longer sit still.

Shifting positions, she pushed the bottle to the side and leaned toward him. "I have a room," she whispered.

Catching her by surprise, he pushed his mouth against hers. His tongue rasped across her lips, probing, but waiting for her permission. She parted her lips and let her tongue touch his. His mouth tasted sweet, overlain with the smooth touch of the whiskey. Only by pushing against his chest with her palm could she make herself move back from him.

A flash of laughter came to her, Din'arik's. Jezren had repeated an oft said thing among the humans at the academy-Din'arik resembled a demon-who knew what he might expect from a human woman or what his "thing" might be like. So many of the human women who came to the academy were such proper prudes. Among the students, there had been two groups-those who stayed with their own kind, and those who deliberately sought out other races for both friendship and partnership. Jezren had almost learned the hard way that not all races were compatible with each other-barbs being the least of it.

His musical laughter came again, and at last his deep voice, shaking, almost unsure. "Lady, you will enjoy me-I have been with human women before," he told her. His tongue went around her fingers again, promising pleasure in other places.

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