I walked by the small shop every week returning from class. My eyes were always drawn to the windows, filled with delicate lace, satin, cotton and silk lingerie.
Exotic looking women would frequent the shop. Men would walk by, looking out of the corner of their eyes, with a guilty almost furtive glance. As if they were doing something bad, dirty or evil.
The women would walk in confident, assured. All the things I felt I wasn't.
Teaching aerobics at 'For Women Only' twice a week helped my credit balance while I finished college. Female executives, pampered wives, anyone who could afford the exclusive membership rates and wanted both the individualized training as well as the privacy afforded by the no-males rule were welcome.
The neighborhood was one I dreamed of someday being able to afford. For now, I settled for window shopping as I walked the several blocks to my bus stop.
As the November wind ripped across my face, my hair felt as brittle as ice, still wet from my shower. I slowed as I passed, my eyes drawn to a lavender and black teddy next to a Lycra and Motif chemise on the display figures.
I only wore practical cotton, but a woman can dream.
Then I noticed an antique Russian Samovar, with steam rising, I slowed, and then stopped to look in. Porcelain China tea sets were displayed, laid out on a small table, with several comfortable looking chairs.
I read a sign: 'Please accept a cup of Hot Tea.'
Another icy breeze surrounded me and slid down my back, chilling me. Before I realized exactly what I was doing, I had stepped into the shop. A small alcove with a stained-glass door closed off the entrance from the outside world.
Pushing open the inner door to a soft chime, I was struck by the warmth and the subtle scents that drew me forward.
The shop was infinitely feminine ...sensual. Soft exotic music played, fragrances danced through the air with each breath, fabric enticed me to touch. Colors attracted my eyes, the tea promised a warm delicious taste. Temptation, for all five senses.
My legs moved forward without conscious thought. I found my hand caressing a silk chemise, the light played across the wisp of fabric as my fingers tingled in sensual pleasure.
Perfume bottles in beautiful crystal decanters drew me. I lifted each, enjoying the beautiful design of the glass, some were lead crystal, others fragile winsome shapes. Picking up a diamond shape I saw myself reflected dozens- hundreds of times.
They tugged at my emotions, at my life and made me feel eminently female.
Unable to resist I lifted one stopper and inhaled. I could almost see dark, candle-lit movement seen through flowing silk. An ancient oriental feeling of damask and silk flowing against my skin.
Lifting another I closed my eyes and sampled the scent. Instantly visions of women dancing barefoot to distant drums filled my mind. A dark pulsing primal tempo. My heart tried to match that rhythm. African I thought.
Replacing the top, I lifted another in a dark swirled glass that looked like midnight clouds hiding a full moon. As my eyes closed, the scent swirled out to surround me. I could picture, sense, a woman lying nude in a bed. The wet scent of sex filed the air, even as her sweat dried in a light breeze from the window her secret lover had just slipped through as he left.
I felt a surge deep within me, as nerves and muscles clenched. I felt like I was in that bed, sated. I staggered back a step. What was happening to me? I had never felt this way before. I was sexually active as the mood or the man moved me. Although, truth be told, I hadn't been with a man in weeks ...months? But this!
The scents had filled my mind, my body with these intense scenes I had never experienced before, or imagined. Each had been more intense, specific, not a dream, more a solid memory. How?
I wanted more.
Replacing that bottle, I lifted another.
It was a tiny spiral of glass. Like golden taffy it twisted up to form what could only be a unicorn horn.
Opening the top I was filled with the scent of sun. Lying on a beach, the sun played across my naked body with a deep soothing warmth. A soft warm breeze brought the cooling sounds of the Mediterranean Sea as waves slapped rhythmically against distant rocks.
I shook my head, clearing the scene. I took another quick involuntary step back, shaken. Each of the bottles had created such a vivid scene. Each, one I could see, feel, smell, taste, hear, each alive, real.
I swallowed. I knew all of them resided, waiting, in my memory, contained within each vial.
Each alive as if I had experienced, lived each personally, but I had never been there, I had never been anywhere... so how? What sort of magic was this?
A soft chime from behind me, made me quickly set the bottle down, and spin, my hands held behind my back as if I had been snitching cookies without permission and had been caught. I felt guilty, like I had been seen doing something evil, bad, dirty.
A woman stood and watched me from that doorway. Tall, blonde, with thick, wavy hair that fell to caress her shoulders. A faint hint of a smile twitched ripe full lips, accented by blood-red lipstick.
I glanced higher. I was dragged into those eyes. A strange blue, almost dark violet that showed humor, welcome and something more ...dangerous, or perhaps a challenge that lurked deep inside those twinkling eyes.
I blinked and pulled away from her eyes to examined her. She was elegant, stunning!
A long grey cashmere coat hung open to reveal a tailored charcoal-grey suit. Clothing I knew from fashion magazines were name designer originals. A silk in her breast pocket perfectly matched the five-inch Italian spike heels that looked as soft a butter that just poked from the bottom of her loose pants. She was so damn beautiful. Enough to be a runway model or an actress, a countess, a classic beauty begging to be painted to photographed. Almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones ...but something about her felt more predatory.
Intelligence and power surrounded her.
Clearly she belonged on the top corner floor of a high rise, with glass walls so she could survey her empire, a powerful Corporate CEO.
I blinked and swallowed, suddenly embarrassed in my old jeans, wet tennis shoes and the old leather bomber jacket I had swiped from my older brother, years ago.
Ducking my head, I began to slide past her trying to flee. I stopped as her hand touched my shoulder.
"Surely, you're not going out into that awful weather."
