Her day off seems boring and dull. As she drives into the city, she sees an advertisement for the Botanical Gardens: "Newly discovered plant species from the deepest Amazon!" the banner shouts; she has the time, why not?
Tickets in hand, she joins the last tour of the day; the tour guide is an awful little Man; self-important and prissy. Along with at least a dozen other people, she dutifully follows him as he points out exotic flowers and plants of every shape and color. He stops at a small grove of pitcher plants; one of the few carnivorous species that feed by trapping insects, and the occasional small bird, and then dissolves them in its little cup of death soup.
As the group wanders behind him, her eye catches a glimpse of a small side-door; almost completely covered in greenery; slipping away, she proceeds towards it.
A small sign in red reads "WARNING!!! Do not enter: plants reproducing."
Testing the door handle, she swings the wooden door open and slips past.
Once through, she finds herself under a huge glass dome; hot and humid, the glass is fogged up, filtering the light coming in and preventing her from seeing what is outside.
Looking around her, there are amazing growths; huge trees with thorns adorning their thick trunks, vines that creep up towards the light using anything they can to gain a foothold as they reach for the sun, giant blossoms in every color of the rainbow; some as wide as dinner plates.
She follows the small concrete pathway, stopping every so often to marvel at the amazing variety of life hidden away here; vibrant pink petals that radiate from a bright red center, cobalt blue leaves on a thorny twisted vine; so many smells; exotic and fragrant; if they could be captured she could make a fortune in the perfume business.
One smell in particular beckons to her; a heady, dizzying aroma. Letting her nose lead the way, she pushes her way through some denser vegetation until she is in a small clearing; at the center, a towering trunk covered in vines that wind their way around its girth; from each vine, thorns sprout. From between the main trunk's roots, an amazing flower stands.
She slowly approaches the plant; the smell is definitely coming from the flower. It hangs from a thick green and red stalk about as round as her arm. About 3 feet in diameter and adorned with purple petals; in its center a large pink spadix about 2 feet long, and a couple of inches around. The smell entices her to come closer until she is standing with her face a few inches from the flower. Studying it, she notices the spadix is secreting a clear sticky fluid; bending over it, she sniffs at it and confirms that it is, in fact, the source of the enticing perfume.
Strolling around the large trunk, she sees that it has half a dozen or more of these same blossoms, some of them 7 or 8 feet long and as round and thick as a barrel, some red, some pink, but these are buds; still closed shut, not open like the first flower.
Back where she started, she studies the flower more carefully; the purple petals look so soft; she reaches out a finger and touches one; It feels like silk; soft, smooth and a little moist. Caressing each petal with her fingertips, she makes sure to touch each one; finally, she comes to the spadix in the middle.
Timidly, she reaches out with her right index finger and prods it; warm to the touch the clear fluid sticks to her finger. She puts it up to her nose and sniffs it; it makes her dizzy with desire, nothing in her life has ever smelled this good. She smiles as her senses reel; a slight flush comes over her; she wonders what the fluid tastes like and slowly sticks out her pink, little tongue; it's sweet, almost like honey, but with something more subtle mixed in; an almost musky, earthy taste, maybe a bit like wild mushrooms.
A rush of blood flows through her, and her skin starts to tingle; her body flushes with a sudden rush of blood and hormones; the tiny hairs on her skin stand up; the slight breeze that flows past her electrifies her, sending amplified impulses through her nervous system.
Flushed and trembling, she reaches out and smears more of the fluid on her finger; what looks like a teaspoon's worth, and greedily sucks it from her finger; then another and another.
Standing there with the alluring smell in her nose and the sweet taste in her mouth, she realizes she is quite sleepy; her body seems sluggish and her limbs heavy. Beneath her feet a luscious carpet of green grass awaits and she lies down just for a moment; after all, it is nearly closing time, and she is in the last tour group.
A slight tickling sensation wakes her; it is quite dark. Only the moonlight shining on the massive glass dome provides any light. Still slightly woozy from her extended nap, she looks at her watch; 11:34 p.m. It's so late, she should find a way out; the Gardens MUST be closed by now.
Slowly and a bit unsteady on her feet, she walks back towards the small door by which she entered the dome. Pushing and tugging on it, it stays firmly closed. Looking around, she sees no other way out, and after exploring for a while, she realizes she is stuck in here for the night.
Trying to make the best of it, she returns to the fascinating plant with its amazing flowers; at least she knows the grass beneath the plant is comfortable and maybe she can sleep there until morning.
Standing in front of the flower again, she realizes that she is hungry; she forgot to eat lunch. Maybe there's some more nectar in the flower? Peering into it, sure enough, there IS more, a LOT more.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembers a nature program stating that flowers open up at night time and some pollinate by moonlight. Some are even able to produce pheromones that mimic those of female moths to attract the males, who then visit the flowers, get covered in pollen, then flit away to another flower to spread the seed. No matter; she tries to use her fingers to scoop up the nectar, but it proves difficult.
Somewhere deep inside her mind, an urge overwhelms her, a voice suggestively whispers "lick it!" "suck it!" It makes sense to her; far more efficient than using her fingers.
Lowering her head, she starts to lick at the spadix; far better! Now she can get at the nectar, and she starts to gorge herself on it. Her mind drifts off for a while, and when her attention returns, she finds herself with her mouth and lips wrapped around the thick pink stalk. Sucking on the tip, she realizes that the harder she sucks, the more sweet fluid is produced. Taking more of the stalk in her mouth, she sucks on it harder, until it releases more of its precious fluid.
Soon she is content; feeling quite full and happy, she lies down on the carpet of grass and drift off into a fitful sleep.