Scent Of Jasmine

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," I stammered, then busied myself by ripping off my muddy boots and scratching around for a towel in the kit bag I'd left in the corner of the patio.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, tinged with intimacy, like he knew. It made my cheeks flush.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a little damp and cold. Can I use the bathroom?"

"Yes, of course." He was all business again. "It's through the lounge and down the passage."

***

What I really needed was a shower but I didn't want to impose, and even as I stripped the wet clothes off my clammy body the overwhelming scent of cunty arousal hung in the air like a cloud. The crotch of the panties were soaked and streaked with the creamy remnants of my orgasm. I rested my burning cheek against the coolness of the tiled wall and stared into the mirror. I hardly recognized the woman staring back at me, wild eyed and flushed with excitement.

Don was standing at the windows facing the garden when I came out of the bathroom, toweling my hair dry. I'd hurriedly changed into my spare jeans and tee shirt but I still felt sticky and warm.

"I can't believe what you've done here," Don said, turning to face me. "The metamorphosis is absolutely amazing." He was holding a glass of red wine which he raised. "Can I get you some? You look like you could do with a drink."

He was right; a drink would've gone down well, but I was acutely aware of what had happened earlier. Of what he may have guessed, of what he was thinking when his eyes roved over me and dammit, of the sudden inexplicable and overwhelming attraction I'd felt towards him.

"I'd love to have a glass, but I can't, unfortunately." I said. "I need to get back to the nursery and drop something off before they close."

"Wow, you do take your work seriously," he laughed. "What on earth is more important at the nursery than hearing me rave about your talent over a fine glass of California Syrah?"

I wondered what he'd say if I told him the truth. That I wanted to deposit my guilty package; a pair of soiled panties, in a Barn Owl box, of all places, for a stranger, before I lost my nerve. He'd probably think I'd completely lost my mind, or had attacked his stock of red wine long before he'd arrived home.

Cold logic flooded washed over me. There was nothing actually forcing me to drop the panties off. If I didn't, it would all end right here and now. I'd be sending a blunt but powerful message to my admirer that his little game was over and that I wasn't interested.

But to be truthful, his gift had given me intense pleasure, and more than that, his seductive, albeit anonymous presence and creative attention had given me immeasurable excitement. The kind of excitement that had started as a mild flutter in my tummy but had spread through my veins like liquid sunshine, making me feel gloriously warm, alert and alive. It was the kind of exhilaration that had made me shrug off my inhibitions, throw caution to the wind and just revel in being me. I felt as if I'd somehow been transformed into an erotic butterfly of adrenaline and orgasmic power and I couldn't remember when last a man had made me feel that way. Perhaps it was because he was a stranger and he'd acted out of the boundaries of what was considered socially acceptable. But he had done me no harm, and I sensed somehow, that if his intentions had been sinister, I would've known by now. We had an unspoken agreement that I had to honor. If I used the butterfly, I owed him the panties.

"Jasmine?" Don's voice brought me out of my reverie. "It's okay, I was only kidding." The fine lines around his eyes crinkled with his smile. "You go off and do whatever it is you have to. We'll have that glass of wine another time."

***

What seemed so simple and clearly defined the night before felt very different in the harsh light of day. Meredith was firing off instructions to the photographer about how she wanted the pictures taken of the garden displays for our catalogue before they were dismantled. Her continuous buzzing about was irritating me and I tried to push back the anxiety that was creeping over me.

I'd had second thoughts about having left the panties from the moment I'd woken that morning. Damn! What was I thinking? I'd given someone I didn't know, a very intimate part of myself. And it had been done on a reckless whim. I'd driven like a maniac to the nursery arriving just as it opened, hoping and praying that the panties would still be there, hidden in the owl box when I arrived. But they were gone.

"Shit!" I whispered as I glanced at my watch for the umpteenth time. It was almost noon and there was still no word from him. Fucking pervert! He'd probably masturbated himself to death over my DNA. Fuck! that was all I needed! I could just see the headlines: "Bizarre Sex Death as man is found dehydrated and asphyxiated by soiled thong."

I laughed in spite of my angst and took comfort in the fact that while I may have lost my dignity and possibly my mind, my crazy sense of humor was still intact. Breathe girl, I told myself, this was no time to be cracking up and beating myself up with regrets. What was done was done, and right now, there were garden displays to be dismantled. I'd wasted enough time and energy on recriminations.

The exercise involved in getting the plants moved and dispatched felt good. Tension eased out of me as my muscles stretched and perspiration dampened my brow. I'd almost finished when one of the receptionists from the Information Desk came by.

"Jasmine," she said, holding a green envelope towards me, "this was left for you."

"Who left it?" I asked sharply, snatching it from her hand.

She shrugged, "Haven't a clue. It was lying on the counter when I got back from lunch, but I've only had a chance to bring it over now."

"Okay, thanks," I said, with a wry smile. No surprise; he'd gone undetected yet again.

I ripped the envelope open.

'Dear Jasmine,

Roses are Red, Violets are blue, but no bouquet smells as sexy as you.

Thank you for your trust and for sharing yourself with me. You cannot know what your special gift meant to me. I spent yesterday thinking about you and hoping that you would put the butterfly to good use. I hoped that it would please and pleasure you like I wish to do. And when I discovered you had used it, enjoyed it and left me the remnants of your pleasure, it made me as horny as hell.

They say every flower has a season, but you, my fragrant one, will bloom forever. And I shall treasure your scent for as long as it lingers.

Our time together in your floral world has come to an end, but perhaps, you may notice me amongst the thorns in your real world but if not, I have the memories.'

I smiled wistfully , it had been flattering and fun, but Thank God it was over. It was something I could tell my grandkids about one day - The edited version - without the toy, of course! I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was tinged with a little sadness as well. In a weird kind of way, I was going to miss him.

***

Don called around four, just as we were finishing up for the day. "I owe you some money," he said. "Can I drop a check off in about a half hour?"

"We're just about done here," I said, "but you can drop it off at the office tomorrow. Or I could pick it up on my way past your place sometime."

"Well, how about we grab a bite later," he suggested. "Do you like Chinese? There's a great place in Douglas Road. They make the best Prawns and Peking Duck in town."

I thought about it for an instant. Should I? Shouldn't I? Yeah, why the hell not? "Okay," I said nodding into the phone, "I'll see you there around six thirty."

When I walked through the door of the Kung Fu Palace, he was already seated in a chair in the reception area. The restaurant located in a shopping centre was not what I'd expected. It was small and cramped. Several people were waiting for takeouts and a few tables had been set up towards the back of the restaurant. They were all occupied.

I cursed myself for having changed into a close fitting black dress and high heels. It wasn't exactly a cocktail dress but with a glimpse of cleavage and hugging my curves the way it did, it was the sexiest and most feminine thing I'd worn around him. My hair hung glossily past my shoulders and I'd taken extra care with my makeup. Somehow I'd wanted him to see that I was more than just a pony tailed, jeans and tee-shirt type girl, but now I felt awkward and self conscious.

"I guess I'm overdressed," I said.

"No, you look fabulous," he said as his gaze slid admiringly over me. "But don't worry, we're not going to eat here, we'll go back to my house. It's a beautiful evening and I thought we'd eat outside, get some fresh air."

I looked into the back of the restaurant, "It's not too bad," I said, suddenly uncertain about spending a couple of hours alone with him at his place. "Let's just eat here."

He picked up the takeout order. "Trust me," he said taking my arm and steering me towards the door. "You'll love my garden."

I laughed, "It would be a sad state of affairs if I didn't."

"Aah, but this is another garden. The one at my other place." He grinned at the look of hesitation that flashed across my face. "It's not far and you can follow me in your car."

His house was located a couple of blocks north on a tree-lined street in an older neighborhood with matured trees and well tended gardens. It wasn't long before we pulled into the driveway.

Inside, the floors were tiled, the furniture casual in muted and earthy shades. A large stone fireplace was the focal point in the living room and for a moment I imagined what it would be like, lying on the thick rug in front of it making love with him during winter as a fire crackled in the hearth. I felt a flush burn up my cheeks and tried to focus on the painting on the wall and the silver trophies scattered between books on the shelves of a bookcase. I had no idea what they were for but there were enough of them to suggest that he was good, at whatever it was, that he was involved in.

"As you've probably guessed," he said, "I like outdoor living." He motioned towards the patio doors which led into the garden. "Go outside and make yourself comfortable. I'll get some plates and open a bottle of wine for us. We'll eat out there."

I passed through the French doors into a paradise of lush greenery. The patio was spacious with a lattice style roof and sweetly fragrant Chinese Wisteria creeping down the columns. I plucked off one of the lilac-blue flowers and brushed it past my nose as I stared at the garden. It was alive with lush foliage. Dozens of purple lavender and bright orange strelizias lined a stone path that led to a wrought iron gazebo located on the left side of the garden which was covered in heavily perfumed white jasmine. The smell carried to me on the breeze and I smiled indulgently. I was not sure that my scent would ever be as powerful or heady, but then again apparently it had its own aromatic appeal. On the opposite side of the garden there was a rock pool surrounded by natural boulders and filled with crystal clear water.

A sound behind me made me turn. It was Don, placing various items and lit candles on the table before disappearing inside again. The candles surprised me. I hadn't thought of him as a romantic but it was that magic hour, that luscious time of day between sunset and dusk, and the glow of candle light would soften the edges as we slipped from twilight into darkness.

He appeared with the food and wine. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and a couple of buttons were open in front giving me a quick view of his chest. It made my mind flash back to my first glimpse of him and the line of dark hair that ran down his stomach to his groin and curled gently at the base of his magnificent cock.

"You had a great gardener," I stammered, trying to take my mind off his body. "The garden is exquisite and perfectly balanced."

He smiled as he set out the plates and poured the wine. "Thanks. You're looking at the gardener."

"Noo," I said, wide-eyed, "You can't be serious? What are you, a landscape architect?" A strange feeling crept over me. Why would a man who could design a garden this well, hire me to design one, a fraction of the size for him?

"Nope, just an architect," he said, offering a plate of crispy prawns to me.

I took one and bit into it. It was crunchy and delicious. "But then how do you explain this?"

"Oh, I had more time back then and I gave it a try for fun, but it took ages to finish." He smiled and selected a prawn. "I designed the bush lodge estate and thought it would be nice to have a place there too. You know, maybe to use on weekends or as a casual office. It needed a garden and I thought it best to get a professional."

"I'm impressed, although clients like you could put people like me out of business."

"I doubt it," he said chewing slowly as he fixed his eyes on me. They looked bluer than I remembered, probably because of the dark blue shirt he wore. "There will always be a demand for people with talents like yours."

I was tempted to ask exactly what he meant by that, but thought better of it.

The duck was everything he'd promised; tender, moist and succulent. We wrapped it in little pancakes, smothered them in a fruity plum sauce and devoured them as we spoke. There were chopsticks and forks, but I also used my fingers, licking every delectable drop from them, until I realized that despite our easy chatter, Don was watching me closely with the same kind of intimate gaze that I'd felt when he'd inadvertently caught me climaxing in the rain.

I swallowed and wiped my fingers demurely on a napkin as I tried to control the butterflies that had taken off in my tummy. I hadn't intentionally been trying to seduce him with my finger licking actions but seemingly I had. He shifted in his chair and glanced away like a naughty schoolboy, a smile tugging at his lips when he realized I'd figured it out.

"More wine?" he asked.

I nodded as he refilled our glasses. He deliberately clinked his against mine and drank slowly. In the soft glow of candlelight, his Adams' apple bobbed as he swallowed, and my gaze traveled to the soft scruff of stubble on his jaw, wondering what it would feel like against my smooth skin.

I tore my eyes from him and glanced up at the sky. It had become overcast and the moon was hidden behind low hanging clouds which were moving like a dark shadow above us. The wind had kicked up; I shivered and rubbed my bare arms.

"You're cold, should we go inside?" His voice was low.

"Okay," I murmured.

I pushed my chair back and he brushed against me as we stood up together. His body felt firm and warm, and without thinking, I reached up and pulled his head down to meet my mouth with his lips. I kissed him softly at first and then more deeply as I tasted the heat of his tongue and the softness of his mouth. Tingles rippled across my skin as I pulled away. My head was swimming from the effects of him and the wine. I needed a minute to steady my breathing and to collect my thoughts and so I reached blindly for the plates on the table. "I'll help you clear up," I said, briskly gathering them and heading inside.

"No, Jasmine, please don't do that! It's not necessary..."

Dizzy with red wine and hot with arousal, I stumbled into the kitchen and unloaded the dishes. I gripped the counter edge and glanced around as I sucked in a few deep breaths and tried to steady myself. Damn! What had made me come onto him so brazenly? A small pile of letters, probably mail or bills, lying next to a bunch of keys on the granite counter top caught my attention. My eye inadvertently zoomed in like a laser to the tip of a green envelope that peeked out of the pile. Shock hit me like a brick when I pulled it loose and saw my name on the outside.

"No!" I whispered disbelievingly. I spun around as Don walked in. "What the fuck is this?"

He blinked once. "It's your check. Why?"

I paused, as thoughts of the last few days ricocheted around my head and the reality crashed in. The deadpan look on his face was too much for me. He saw the anger flash in my eyes.

"Jasmine, look I can explain everything, I-"

"Save your explanations, you fucking asshole!" I threw the envelope at him but what I really wanted to do was to lash out and slap him, to rake my nails across his cheek. Hot tears of fury and embarrassment scorched my eyes but I blinked them back. I'd rather die than let him see me cry. A surge of rage raced through me and I swiped my hand across the counter top sweeping the stack of dishes over the edge. They clattered to the tiled floor and exploded in shards of shattered glass which together with Don's urgent protests were the last thing I heard as I grabbed my bag and stormed out.

***

"Oh God, how did I manage to fuck up so spectacularly?" I groaned, punching my pillows, rearranging them and trying to get comfortable. By the time I'd got home and into bed, my fury towards Don had given way to self hatred. Jesus! How could I have been so dumb not to have even suspected it may have been him sending the letters and even worse, how could I have gone along with it? My cheeks burned with shame. There were two things I detested; feeling out of control and being manipulated, and Don had managed to achieve both. I hated him and myself! I punched the pillows again and curled onto my side.

The phone shrilled. His number flashed on the Caller Identity. I'd ignored the previous two calls but it seemed he wasn't going away until I answered and bluntly told him to fuck off.

"What?" I hissed into the phone.

"You know it's rude to smash dinner plates on the floor unless you're at a Greek restaurant. And then, at least they're clean ones."

A sense of evil satisfaction pulsed through me. They'd been sticky, liberally coated with the remnants of duck and plum sauce. It must've been a hellish mess to clean up.

"Oh yeah," I replied, "Well it's fucking perverted to stalk someone."

"I didn't stalk you," he said, calmly. "I simply sent you letters of admiration. And a small gift." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Very funny!" I snapped, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again. "Look, you've had your fun, you got your sick little thrills and you got your garden done. You can drop the check off at the office." I took a deep breath, "Now, fuck off and don't call me again. Ever!"

I hung up and the phone immediately rang again.

"What part of 'fuck off,' don't you understand?"

"If you hang up again on me, I'm going to have to tell Meredith." His voice was low, menancing, like he meant it. "And that could mean you losing your job..."

"Tell Meredith what?" I exploded, "That you're a pervert?"

"No, that you are!" he retorted. "I'll be forced to tell her how shocked I was that you came to give me a quote and ended up spying on me when I was jerking off. Christ! You ever heard of privacy?"

Air rushed from me as my mouth fell open. "Shit!" I rasped in disbelief, "You bastard! So you manipulated that situation as well?"

He chuckled softly, "No, that was completely unexpected. But I was hoping you'd seen me. I was just never sure if you had."

I swallowed hard. The image of his cock; thick, blunt and deepening in color as his hand fucked it flashed into my head. I tried to force back submerged waves of arousal that were beating up in me.

"So you're a wanker," I sneered. "Tell me something I don't already know."

He ignored my sarcasm. "If it's any consolation, it was you I was fantasizing about when I was stroking..."

That shut me up. No matter how hard I was trying to deny my feelings, I was afraid that my voice would give away how he was affecting me.

"Jasmine, this was never meant to hurt or embarrass you," he said. "I just didn't know how else to get your attention."