Blaise Maximillian – Perfume, the scent of love

Perfume, the good sort, had the ability to make an attractive woman beautiful and a plain woman attractive. The delicate art of perfumery had always captivated Blaise. The way that they took supposedly unrelated scents and oils and mixed them to produce elixirs of beauty entranced him. It truly was the scent of love.

One of the first things he noted about women, after the initial glance, was their smell. Perfumes reacted differently with every person. You could take a Chanel and put it on one woman whilst putting it on another and – whilst there would be a common scent of sorts – the actual smell that came off of them would be totally unique.

He had found out that the reason behind this was because of the oils on everyone’s skin and the way that they reacted with the perfume. Even the person’s diet could affect the way the perfume worked.

Take the lady he was currently conjoined with. Blonde, leggy, amazing breasts and the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen. He felt as though he could spend hours looking into those eyes, drowning in the wide pupils. She was an absolute stunner.

Her perfume crowned it off. He’d never smelt anything so nice before, it made her practically angelic. She pulled his head down towards her and lifted her head to nip at his ear. Her teeth were as sharp as needles and he groaned as he pulled away and nuzzled into her neck, nipping at the delicate flesh there. The perfume filled his nostrils, threatening to drown him in the scent.

She gasped, her full, red lips parting and her eyes widening. With a quick shift of her hips and a buck, she flipped him onto his back and rolled over on top of him.

Desperate to keep her as close to him as possible, he reached up and pulled her down, wrapping his legs around her waist.

They stared into each other’s eyes, holding that position for what felt like an age, but must have only been a few seconds. Their lips were almost touching, and he could have run his tongue across hers should he wished.

He quickly wrapped his arms around one of her supporting arms and rolled her back over. She cried out as his full weight pinned her to the floor, and her nails raked their way down his back, bringing a gasp from his lips.

Her hands scrabbled frantically until they found his buttocks and with a tug and a buck she pulled him so far forward that his groin was above her head.

With both of his hands needed to keep him from dropping onto her, he was at her beautiful mercies as she buried her head into his groin.

His eyes widened as he felt her mouth take the top part of his penis, her teeth sliding over his helmet as her mouth started to close, biting hard enough to be felt through the tweed of his trousers.

Blaise thrust his hips back, managing to get his hands back onto her arms, pinning her as he looked into her eyes.

‘No you don’t, you little minx.’ he smiled as he looked down at her. She was truly beautiful. Her skin was as smooth as a baby’s, not one blemish marred her skin. Considering the various gases, disease and epidemics that had been part and parcel of the war, her beauty was all the more remarkable.

She struggled as he moved her pinned hands together. Finally he was in a position to pin both of her hands with just one of his. Desperately he scrabbled at his trousers, loosening them in order to get better access. His hand found what it was searching for and, looking deep into her eyes, he thrust home, plunging as deep as he could into her.

She gasped, her perfect mouth forming a surprised ‘o’ and her eyes widened. A moan escaped from her lips and she bucked underneath him, her hips rising from the floor. He thrust again, forcing a long drawn out gasp, and watched as her pupils narrowed before her eyes closed.

Breathing heavily he pushed himself off her, dropping his blood-covered knife and lay panting on the floor.

‘I thought you’d never kill the bitch sir.’ Thatcher lay in a pool of blood, hands holding his guts in, stopping them from spilling out of the gaping hole in his stomach that the German spy had cut.

‘She was damned hard to kill Thatcher! Bitch was trained well!’ he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flask, ‘Whisky?’