Oh My Sense of Smell (750 Words)

Another hot day driving my car. Then home to my hot house. The cooling sea breeze had just reached my place, so I could open the windows to let nature assist the aircon.

The house smelt stale, more reason to open the large bedroom window which awkwardly faced the house next door. Sure, the fence between us stood high enough that the neighbours could not see inside mine, and I could not see them. But we heard everything in there, the shouts, the arguments, the grunts, other audible bodily functions. Also when they clanged things around. And no doubt -- although they were both old and somewhat deaf -- they could hear what went on in our bedroom too. I'll bet that even if they were mostly deaf, they could clearly hear our bedroom adventures.

So I opened the bedroom window and whoa, a smell wafted straight in. And what a smell! I first thought they were preparing fish. But then I recalled the juvenile japes my mates shared back when, hilarities about the likely smell of our female friends. We would know if we had the chance to turn them on. If they let us. The smell was pleasant, something about it. I was older now.

And I wondered, was I smelling old Matilda from next door? Come on, I was grown up enough to know that older couples still had sex. For all I knew, the pair next door tore off their clothes three times a day and went at it full steam ahead, all engines firing. But could I smell them from across the fence?

Perhaps they kept their lust and love fresh by experimenting, dreaming up scenarios to titillate the both of them. I don't know. Gus did not seem to have much energy when I watched him wheeze around their front garden trying to keep the grass neat, and their rosebushes under control. But he kept going at his tiptoe pace. He looked like he could go on forever at that tranquil trot. Or maybe he was just saving it up for the bedroom or the kitchen or whatever surface or part of their home presented an opportunity.

Maybe I could smell Matilda because Gus had pinned her against the fence right up next to my window and then either shushed her up or, I don't know, silenced her with a ballgag now that they had finally got around to watching Pulp Fiction to see why it was their son's favourite film. So they decided to see what the fuss was about. Only to end up rewinding it at certain parts and taking notes.

Was that a grunt? Sounded familiar.

Gus did not seem the type to tie anyone up. Matilda though, that sly look behind her eyes. People say she would have been a wild one when she was young.

A cool gust blew into my house from their side bringing on another swirl of that smell. I knew I was not imagining it, it was so strong. But what were they doing there? Maybe I would never find out. If Gus was ploughing Matilda from behind just a few metres from where I was standing, how could I ever know? Except for this smell? But I heard nothing. Were they even there?

And then came my doubts. I sniffed again. Maybe they were actually preparing a fish for dinner? Maybe they switched Pulp Fiction off after the first few scenes, shook their heads at its peculiar style and decided that they would never understand their son's tastes and interests. They would just be content that he had a job and a nice wife.

I was still lingering in our bedroom hoping to hear something when Marie came home. She gave me the regulation hello kiss on the cheek. "What's that smell?" she demanded. She even turned up her nose in disgust.

I silently gestured at whatever was going on behind the fence. "I think they're at it," I whispered. Marie smiled and shrugged out of her work clothes. She was down to knickers and bra when I sensed the smell had got stronger. But how? Marie gave no hint if she had noticed. She looked good, I told her. She stripped naked, stepped out of her knickers, spun them around her finger grinning at me. She then nonchalantly flicked them into the laundry basket.

"I'm having a shower," she told me as she stepped quickly past me. "Just need to freshen up." And she smiled.