Sensory Overload
- Smell -

Smell or olfaction is the other "chemical" sense. Unlike taste, there are hundreds of olfactory receptors, each binding to a particular molecular feature. Odor molecules possess a variety of features and thus excite specific receptors more or less strongly. This combination of excitatory signals from different receptors makes up what we perceive as the molecule's smell.

The scent of her hair fills my nostrils as it falls in front of her face as she leans over me. I run my fingers through it, knowing that the scent will linger on them for ages, even after she has gone. It lingers everywhere, on my pillow, on my hands, in the air all around my house, creeping into every crevice making it almost impossible to get her out of my mind. Not that I want her to get out, she is firmly implanted back in there and I don't know of anything that will enable her to leave.

I have never been able to adequately describe the scent of her; it's a mixture of her exotic, expensive perfume, her fresh smelling shampoo and the delicate scent of her skin. I can describe the individual components but the mixture of them is what makes it unique to her, what makes it impossible to ignore, however hard I used to try. I have given up the fight now, willingly surrendered and let the scent of her surround my life. Its even better than coffee, the smell of her, better than freshly brewed coffee, better than the smell of wood, better than the smell of the best bourbon in the world.

I run my fingers through her hair again, and she arches her neck, exposing her throat. I place my lips against the hollow at the base and breathe in. Somewhere between the soft, flowery, feminine scent and the exotic scent I swear I can almost smell desire. Probably a mixture of both hers, and mine because right now I desire nothing more than her. Not that anyone could blame me. She lowers her head and plants her lips firmly against mine, invading my mouth with her tongue, almost melting into me until I can't distinguish whose moans are whose.

The heady scent of sex fills the room as she runs her hands through the hair on my chest, her hair falling in auburn curtain around her face yet again. It's a scent that lingers with hers, mingling with it, making me associate one with the other. I flip her and lean over her, and I pause, drinking in the sight of her face flushed with lust. She lifts a hand to my face and I lean into it and kiss her palm as I begin to move with her once again, climbing to the rhythm that we both know so well. I hear her breathe out my name and I join her in release. I collapse onto her, my face buried in her hair at the base of her neck, her hands running up and down my back. Her scent gets stronger at the pulse point in her neck and I gently run my lips over it, causing her to arch her neck again, comfortably numb and content, I slip out of her and pull her to me.

The rain hammers against the roof as she leaves the warmth of my bed and throws the window open, complaining that the heat in the bedroom is too much, the smell of wet earth and tarmac fills my nostrils as her skin breaks out in goose pimples. I grab the sheet from the bed and wrap it around both of us, pulling her firmly against my chest. She leans back and sighs. I breathe in her scent again, marveling in the fact that after all this time, it is still my favorite smell in the world.

"I love it." I hear her murmur and I turn her to face me, her face still flushed, "Your smell." She says, her voice still quiet, as if talking would break the spell that seems to have been weaved over the room.

"I was just thinking the same thing." I reply.