Even in Toronto, spring air contained magic. In it, Kenneth Weston could smell the vague deep-fried aromas of Spadina and Chinatown, the street dirt, the perfume, the nightclubs, the drunken arousal of a city waking up from a long, cold winter.
It was after dark, and Victoria was off to the hospital to another call. Kenneth didn't mind the time she spent away. It gave him a chance to be alone. A chance to absorb the city vista in a way he couldn't possibly do if she was home. When she was home, he was miserable. He thought of leaving. It was Victoria's complete emotional dependence that made him stay.
Kenneth worked as a website designer. More or less. Even the title of designer was a bit glamourous for what his job entailed, which was maintaining the link status of his few clients. There were 10 right now, and he had negotiated contracts with each that gave him the continuing responsibility of maintaining their rank at the top of the search engines. A task which took far more time and far less creativity than anything related to design.
Working at the computer often lead to him digging out pornography. Sensual bondage. He couldn't remember when he had developed a taste for it. Victoria did not enjoy either submission or domination. But she didn't enjoy sex at all anymore, and the two of them had not made love in almost a year.
She was a tall, slim 30-year old with as fine an ass as any woman could ever hope for. Her lankiness was sensual in its own way. Kenneth loved the way the inseam of her jeans just went up and up and up. Making love to her had once been a delirious joy.
There was no joy now, and while Kenneth's male hormones raged on like spring flood, Victoria's libido, which at 30 should have been more ravenous than ever, was as dusty as a dry lakebed. She had a mind for work, and she was obsessed with it. She obsessed about her job, about their student loans, the latest Ikea catalogues, the design of their apartment. She had exactly no interest in sex, and while she knew that Kenneth was starving for sensual engagement, she could do nothing, it seemed, to stoke her own sensual fire back to life. The coals had gone out, and no amount of blowing (or anything else) could warm them up.
The bic lighter made a faint plink as he flipped it open. The flint turned, and a flame leapt into the air. The smell of lighter fluid. He raised it to his pipe. The pipe was filled with an herbal blend he bought at Jimmy's Smoke Shop. Nothing close to marijuana, but if he smoked up now, he was more apt to dive into a drawing, or some random un-paid graphic work, rather than the very routine drudgery of website maintenance. Maybe in another few months he'd buy a nice Indica blend if he found a dealer he could trust. His had been busted ages ago.
The wind changed as he raised his pipe, and a now a new scent made his forebrain bristle. It was a soft, sweet smell, feminine and instantly sexual. His hands paused and he shifted his nose toward it. Vanilla-flavored woman. That's what it smelled like.
And there she was: a woman standing on the concrete balcony just left of his. She was gazing out at the skyline just like he was. He didn't recognize her, and figured she must be a new tenant since that place had been empty for a while. He had never seen her before. She wasn't the statuesque British girl from upstairs: the gorgeous brunette he'd once seen flirting shamelessly with one of the building's security guards.
No.
This girl on the balcony was shorter, probably about 5'9'. Her breasts were humbly-sized, but from her silhouette he could see the sensuous curve of her behind, and it drove him crazy in exactly the same way Victoria's did.
His soul growled at the absolute frustration of his most primal sensual desires. He breathed in a big sigh, and butane from the lighter momentarily overpowered the electric vanilla blowing from next door. He realized the wind had snuffed the ligher flame. He flicked it again, and cupped his hand around it as he held the pipe in his mouth.
"Is that what I think it is?" the woman said suddenly, without turning away from the view. Kenneth started. Until now, he thought he had noticed her first. Although there was a lot of youth in her voice, it still sounded mature, poised.
"Probably not," Kenneth said when he had gathered his wits. He lit the zippo again and took a long drag of the bitter smoke. "... unless you think it's Mama Gaia's Summer Simmer," he said on the exhale.
"Pardon?" she chuckled. As she turned toward him, and the dim yellow light from her apartment lit her features. Her eyes were dark, he couldn't tell if they were blue, or brown, or what since they were shaded by her hair and the bridge of her nose. Pretty. She had freckles, just a few, and the expression she wore on her face was simple: amused, curious, and beneath that playful face, he saw something he longed for almost more than sex. Happiness? Self-confidence? Whatever it was, it was something he hadn't seen in Victoria's eyes for a very long time.
"Did you say Summer Sinner?:" she said "Is that like Northern Lights, or White Widow or something?" She said the names fancifully like she was parodying hippies who liked brand-name strains, but Kenneth had an idea that she knew exactly what White Widow and Northern Lights were all about.
Kenneth laughed. "Simmer, not sinner." then cocked his head. "Summer Sinner, I like that. And no, it's not a strain of weed. It's just a bunch of herbs, like Blue Lotus, and some other stuff. It cools me off... when I'm too lazy to go to the gym. And it's not that bad for me, I don't think." Kenneth took another drag.
"Huh..." mind if I try some?" she said, holding her hand out over the metal railing dividing the single concrete slab that made up three balconies on this Bloor St. apartment. He could see her very clearly now as she approached their shared railing. Her long straw-colored hair was not quite pin straight. It ended just above her breasts, which weren't a whole lot to look at, but extremely well-flattered by her turtleneck. Not that breasts mattered when they belonged to a face like that, and that voice.
"Mm?" said Kenneth absently. "Oh," he said, and the harsh smoke stung his trachea as he spoke. He coughed a few times, then said "Sure go ahead, but it's..." Kenneth began to cough again.
"Pretty Harsh?" she said, raising her eyebrows. Kenneth was politely coughing toward his armpit, but managed a nod. She looked him with a wary smile, like she was sizing him up. Offered a tiny heh of a giggle.
