I Smell Like Beef Novels & Stories

"You smell like..." He leans in again. Inhales one more time, his nostrils flaring. "Cheap soap," he spits out, his voice shaking with disgust. "Laundry detergent. Pine. Synthetic." He pulls back, staring at me with a look of absolute horror. "Like a man." My throat goes dry. Liam. He had hugged me goodbye. He had lent me his jacket when I walked him to the subway. The scent of him...normal, drugstore cologne and fabric softener....is sticking to the expensive cashmere.

i reply. His lips twitch at that, and he says "I smell like that... only to you. Because I am yours, I smell like the things you love... Just as you smell unique to me."He tells me. It dawns on me that he must be right, but I never gave the Amore much thought before. "What do i smell like to you?" I ask. He took a deep, slow breath and then said "Cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and wood smoke."

SSHS 159 “What do you mean? It actually smells nice. Like strawberries.” Excami said as she was confused as to why Albert was scrunching and pinching his nose. “I smell jackfruit.” Hestia said, though she was also puzzled by the situation. It is unusual already for her to smell jackfruit at their location, but it was also unusual that Excami was smelling something else and Albert was grossed out by it. Then something clicked in her mind. She sniffed the air again and began walking to the direction she thought the source of the smell was coming from. “Hestia, where are you going?” Excami asked. Albert cannot talk since he was so grossed out by the smell that he cannot even move at all.

“Even a smell, Isla. Some tiny thing you’d normally ignore.” She hummed, tasting the piece, then frowned. “He smelled like cigarette smoke two mornings in a row. He hates smoke..” “That’s something normal. Did he smell like any other…” I began. “like alcohol?” She finished for me. “No. He was… colder. There was a cup on his desk that smelled like bitter herbs, not coffee.” She turned back to the gas and tossed the beef in, it hissed, little fireworks that made her laugh reflexively. “Maybe I should have noticed, but I was busy filing invoices and pretending to be invisible.”

He greeted me with a smile and joined me to turn in our project. “Hey, how are things?” he asks. “They’re better.” As we headed back to our tables, I caught a strange scent coming from Ben. I thought it was just my senses acting up. But no. The smell was the one that I’d been hunting and searching for. Slightly stale musk and...Citrus.

She lowered her head and took a sniff. Maxwell stiffened and took a couple of steps back at once. He asked anxiously, “What’s the matter?” “I must be imagining things. I feel like I can smell the stench of stinky tofu on you. It might not be coming from you. The scent should be coming from me instead. I had a lot of stinky tofu too,” she said while showing him an embarrassed smile.

Now I’m in a foul mood in general. When I walk up to Dad, I smell it again. That flowery smell that makes me feel calm and tingly all at the same time. It creeps me out a little. I look around to see if I can find it. “What’s wrong Brady?” Dad asks nervously. “Nothing. Just smelled something.” I reply quickly. “I’m surprised you can smell anything but BO. No wonder no one has claimed you three as mates.” Tom says. I know he’s only half joking. I’m sure we all smell horrible after the workout we had today.

God what's happening? She suddenly embraces me and the odor she is emitting actually causes my eyes to sting. So much so, they begin to water. It smells like a coat that is damp and not properly dried, then add the smell of blood to that, then add that of sweat, and then rain, and then dust, and leaves and a whole bunch of other stuff. Believe when I say she smells worst than a dead rat. Doesn't she know what perfumes and rollon's are!?

Dominic’s eyes widened slightly, “You can smell me?” he asked, his voice high with surprise. “Well, I can smell whatever the cologne or aftershave you wear is yes,” I said, and he smiled. “Baby,” he said, “I don’t wear cologne or aftershave, or not scented ones anyway.” “Oh,” I said and then what he said sunk in a little, no smelly cosmetics meant that it was him that I was smelling, just like the werewolves in my books, “Oh,’’ I said again when I realised.

Dominik The room smells of bleach, raw meat, and cold air. It’s a specific scent profile, one I’ve known since I was a boy. It’s the smell of the meatpacking district before dawn. It’s the smell of the Grimaldi family’s oldest legitimate business. We are three stories underground, beneath the hanging carcasses of beef and the hum of the industrial freezers. The room is small. It’s tiled from floor to ceiling in white ceramic that gleams under the harsh buzz of the fluorescent strip lights. There’s a drain in the center of the floor. A rubber hose is coiled on the wall.