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From a larger ceramic bottle she spayed me with a lavish amount of sweetflowery perfume. Behind the ears, on my neck, down my exposed cleavage,and on my wrists. I would have normally found such an overpowering scenta real turn off but now it smelled the most like the most divine thingin the world. "Oh Angle that's simple gorgeous, what is it?" Ah Miss Georgie dat my favourite. Wild Meadow flowers. Masser like ittoo. Here I got a little bottle in here if ya need to freshen up. Shehanded me a small handbag that matched the blue of my shoes."I also put some of dat lipstick in there with a bit of face powder anda hair brush. Other things too that a girl needs like a hankie a nailfile and mascara. Ya now ready to go Miss Georgie. Ya go see yourself inda mirror."I gingerly stood up. I was afraid I was going to burst out of theclothes I was wearing but I knew the stout girdle would prevent that. Itottered over to the full-length mirror finding on my way that thanks tothe length and narrow. “The smell?” she thinks. How come she can identify her mother by her smell? But the idea sticks in: the menthol from the cigarettes she smokes, the cheap perfume, the juniper wood of the gin she drinks; it is clearly her mother. She sniffs to be sure but the reassuring smell is replaced by something much more powerful, a coppery acrid aroma assaults her nose trills. The obsessing smell of blood makes her hungry and horny at the same time and that is when last night’s events start coming back to her. She remembers the woman in her room, she remembers the bite and the intense pleasure that came with it, actually simply thinking about it makes her horny. She touches her neck looking for the wound, it is heavily bandaged. It does not hurt anymore, actually it radiates with a warm energy. She then remembers the African American man and she remembers Peter, the fight and her boyfriend taking her away… She is incredibly thirsty; on the bed table she spots a glass of water. She tries to.
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