The Scent of Jasmine
by Eva Bell
The heady scent of jasmine wafted through the breeze, propelling me towards its source. She was there already, her sari drawn tightly across her bosom, and the pleats pulled between her legs and secured behind in her waistband, enhancing the comely curve of her butt. In her hair she wore a strand of jasmine, its perfume so intoxicating that one forgot the smell of the fish she sold.
Her assortment of fish was piled in small mounds on a sheet of white cloth.
“You’re my first customer this morning, Sir,” she said, ogling me with her lustrous black eyes and a smile that set my pulses raging, “My luck for the day depends entirely on you.”
“Don’t give me that yarn,” I said, stealing a look at the heave of her breasts.
“Fresh fish from the sea,” she coyly reminded me.
“How much?” I asked, my eyes slowly travelling up to her midriff.
“Fifty rupees a kilo, Sir. I wouldn’t dare overcharge a customer like you. You’re my bread and butter.”
Now I could see her taut black nipple through her blouse. My legs began to wobble, but I put on my sternest look.
“You wicked old bastard,” I told myself, “She’s young enough to be your daughter.”
“I’ll take a kilo of fish,” I said, “And if you’ve cheated me. young woman, you’ll be seeing me tomorrow.”
“Always a pleasure, Sir,” she laughed.
Her bracelets jangled as she waved her hands, to the next unsuspecting sucker.
I smiled when I heard her say, “You’re my best customer, Sir, and my luck depends on you.”
There was a spring in my gait as I walked away with the scent of jasmine in my nostrils, knowing that for one brief moment she had made me feel blissfully young again.
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Eva Bell is a writer of short stories and articles published in magazines, newspapers, anthologies and Net. She is also the published author of novels. Website: http://www.evabell.net/ Blog: http://muddyloafers.blogspot.