Unscentable By Jennifer Francis Novels & Stories

She also stood up, went round the table and faced Jackie. Jackie frowned. “What?” Jacintha wrapped her arms around her neck. Jackie froze. “W–What are you doing?”, she stammered. “Shhh.” Jacintha shushed her. Jackie held her arms in the air awkwardly before hugging her back. She suddenly sniffed her. She sniffed again. She did it again, this time inhaling deeply. “OMG I love your perfume, where did you get this? What is this? I have the latest fragrance collection of Frank Bisto this year. What perfume can this be if not Frank Bisto?”

VINCENZO In the middle of the night, when the moon and stars seemed to have bloomed in the sky, I could feel my heart beating in my chest like a drum, in sync with the emotions that swept over me. Francesca Serratore, her name itself, was a melody, a song in a sound universe. It wasn’t just a physical attraction, but something deeper, something that touched me to my core and made me feel shrouded in an unexpected longing and doubt.

Some American, French actresses and former perfume endorsers were also here tonight. The highly anticipated fragrance, Scent ‘d Arella showcased at the center. The spoke person was an Academy Award-winning actress chosen by the perfumer herself. The high-end scent made the night bloom with flowery, sweet, and spicy, yet seductive effect. I couldn’t help but think her smell that made me crazy, and now we were launching it. I wanted it to share with all the fragrance enthusiasts all over the globe. I was so proud of Arella at the same time for concocting such great creation. She didn’t just do a great job, but she made her dream come true.

Francisco moved to pay the bill, leaving Hazel to wait in a corner, her mind in turmoil. As she stood there, she closed her eyes, inhaling the lingering scent of his perfume. It was intoxicating, wrapping around her like an invisible embrace. "Fuck, what is happening to me?" she thought, frustration and confusion warring within her. "I should hate his smell, but why can't I?" Hazel's fingers clutching the edges of his coat around her. Hazel's mind flashed back to that night—Francisco's touches, his kisses, his teasing words. The memory was so vivid that she could almost feel his presence again. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but Francisco's voice abruptly interrupted her t

It was horrid, disgusting and clearly marked her status as a lowly servant. A scent on the second row stopped me, and I slowly approached the auburn-haired girl. She was a pretty little thing, and her pheromone was eerily similar to the scent driving me out of my mind. I pressed my nose to her hair, sucked in her scent, and finally found what set her apart. Vanilla and cauliflower, fear. No. It’s not her. Ripe peaches. Sultry. Sad. By the time I made my way through the lines of omegas, the wine I drank earlier was brimming in my lungs, threatening to erupt from my lips.

Ethan was in a meeting, so I waited in his office. That was when Sophia walked in. She politely brought in coffee, and when she bent forward, I caught the familiar scent of cologne. Just as Joy had described, it was Ethan's scent. "Don't you have anything to say to me?" I asked suddenly. Her hand trembled, spilling hot coffee on herself, leaving red marks instantly. She looked fragile and helpless as her eyes darted away. Flustered, she crouched down to clean the mess and did not answer.

And sure enough, Jefferson lay back on Hugo's chest. But Jefferson already realized that there was something strange, Homer's breathing sounded weird, and for some reason, instead of feeling happy, Jefferson felt annoyed. The annoyance emanated from a familiar, malevolent aura, Jefferson winced, and instead of the refreshing smell of sandalwood, he smelled a foreign cologne. His hunch was telling him that something was wrong, which made Jefferson unable to go back to sleep, he got up again, but this time he opened his eyes. And how surprised Jefferson was when he saw Hugo smiling lecherously at him with his hands still perched on Jefferson's waist.

That lingering aroma—the heady blend of vanilla and lavender—wrapped around me like a cruel reminder of what I couldn’t have. “Scent of my sinful desire,” I whispered bitterly, without knowing it was going to be both my destruction and my redemption.