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| Ah, the scent of a woman...
I'm not speaking of all the precious powders and perfumes and potions marketed to mask the true powerful humanity of women. I'm talking about the wide, luscious orchestra of scents that a woman's body can create - from the faint delicate briny scent of tears to the the metallic tang of blood, to that basso richness that exists between her cheeks, a smell that only those so utterly intimate ever get to experience. Do I seek to smell a woman's tears, no, but I know what a gift they are. Do I have any real interest in her shed blood, not really, but no one can deny the shocking intimacy of it. Am I here searching for the scent of shit? Well, get to know me, and we'll see where we end up with that one. These are all extreme examples. But there are scents, deep, natural, potent perfumes that no two women ever produce in just the same way that I am deeply interested in. And I'm searching for those scents here because it is my belief that only in those heady moments of power exchange do the those masks fall away and, in that giving, can the whole orchestra be heard.
And what of the scents of a man? Who knows? Can you smell my hunger?
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