Scent of her hair.

Her hair is intoxicating. I smell it. It is fanned out on the pillow. Her hair seems to be perfectly arranged where ever she falls. Sitting on the couch, there is a cascade of it draped over the red velure, perched on the kitchen bench she is hidden by a honey coloured waterfall. Lying in bed next to me there is this perfect arc of gold as if her hair is in motion even now, flicking out across the black sheets which are the ideal background.

I do not want to fall in love with her. Lust is impossible to dodge. She is all sex. Her breasts are large and have a tendency to spill out of her clothing. Her waist is thin and she has the kind of lips that look like they have just been kissed. Her lips make me jealous. They make me want to kiss away any memory of a previous lover. When I hear her in bed with her boyfriend I thump my books onto my desk. I crash and scutter. I want her to hear me in the next room, to think of me at her moment of orgasm. I want to rip the biley sting of lust out of my throat and feed it to her, drop by drop.

She is too pretty. Beside her I become a troll.

And then there is her hair.

One day, in the shower, I used her shampoo. I covered myself with the smell of her, wondering if boys would suddenly begin to look at me as I passed them in the street. I had often seen them stare at her, alerted to her beauty by only the passing smell of her hair. I emerged from the shower clean, but smelling of my usual loamy soil, the natural odour of my skin all earthworm and hobbit with a hint of sex. My olfactory fingerprint stamping itself on the air.

Today it is hot and the heat wafts the scent of her hair onto my damp pillow. She has fallen beside me as if exhausted, draping her gorgeous limbs across my sheets. She sighs and holds out her hands to trap my fingers.

All the men are lost to her. I have given up bringing people back home with me. They drift away from me, inching closer to her gravitational pull. I suppose I am lost too. I let her hold my fingers and I am a knot of tense muscles and thudding blood. I can see her breast easing up from her chest in a perfect arc. I can smell her hair. I want to yell 'stop flirting with me'. I want to tear her Barbie Doll limbs from their plastic sockets and rub her shining locks in the dirt. I want to fuck her. I want to leave the stain of myself on her so that she will be sullied by something less celestial than herself. I want her grounded because I am grounded, but mostly I just want her.