Sniff snuff stuff

They just weren’t fucking getting it. Idiots.

Listen, I said to their gawping Rimmel masks, You must- - MUST have something smaller? Something cheaper?

They turned back around to the shelves they’d investigated just a few seconds previously.

No. 24 quid - cheapest.

I don’t have 24 fucking quid.

You don’t need to swear at us.

I’m sorry - it’s just-

One of them raised an eyebrow - an unsuggestive botox twitch.

Wait - how do you afford botox on the salary of a perfume counter assistant?

They frowned at me. Possibly. There was a long, unjust silence.

Credit Card, they answered finally in unison like the twins off the Shining.

I rolled my eyes deep into the high pit of my skull. I felt my retina lick my brain.

Listen, you must have samples. You know - little small bottles. Just one - just the one and I promise tomorrow I’ll go hassle someone else.

They looked at each other. A woman approached the counter. She had a small, yappy little dog under her arm which was uncharacteristically silent. It might have been dead. She wore perfume the same way Vietnam wore Napalm.

Hi there yah could I grab a sample of that new Jean Paul Gaultier? she licked her lips. The assistants smiled warmly at her. One of them pulled out a long strip of cardboard, sprayed it with the fragrance and gave it to her. The other pulled out a small giftbag treble the size of the sample perfume within.

Oh yah She sniffed it Mmmmm yah, it’s delicious isn’t it heavy yah cheeeeers guys.

The bitch left. Her cheap fragrance broke my flesh out into a rash. Nasty.

I turned back to the assistants, bemused.

Why does she get a fucking sample?

There’s no need to swear at us, madam.

Yes there is! Why does she get a freebie and I don’t?

They stared at each other, one of them - the one with the thinnest eyebrows - rolled her eyes at her workmate and walked away. The other stared uncomfortable at her watch.

I banged at the counter, incredulous. They just didn’t get it. The girl jumped. She clutched at her chest in horror.

LISTEN - I bleated, inches close to grabbing her by the throat and spitting in her face - I’ve just fallen in love with this boy and he fucking loves this fragrance he seems to think that I piss fart menstruate cry spit shit and sweat that fucking fragrance. I have five pounds.

I pulled the crumpled note out of my back jean pocket and held in front of the bloated barbie dolls face.

I’ll pay you for a sample. Just the one - please!? FUCKSAKES! He won’t come near me otherwise! The boys fucking addicted. You understand addiction, don’t you?

I looked at her worn down septum. Her burst-burnt pupils that had been over-dilated one too many times and sat sad and inky beneath her heavy lids.

Just how do you afford all that coke, anyway?

She bunched her elbows up by her face like Lurch. She swooped her now animated face around like a mother eagle protecting her nest -

Credit Card! she declared excitedly through gritted teeth before her face shrank once more into a morose saggy mask.

Oh.

Okay - anyway, please? Just the one? Or just spray some on me? Or wipe a bit of cardboard on me? Or break a bottle, yeah? Just break a bottle and you can claim it back on damages and I’ll just writhe around in it - a good 50 quids worth, it’ll stain me good and proper for a good few fucking weeks and you’ll not need to see me again. I promise.

You’ll bleed.

Excuse me?

You’ll bleed - if you writhe around in a broken bottle.

So spray me then, fucksakes.

I thought of me and him our limbs shuttered round each other like the safety locks on a roller coaster or roots in the Earth or or or - - dragging his nose across the nape of my neck my hair my collar bone my wrists my throat my tits my lingerie my cunt my thighs my knees mmmmmmm and then he cums shuddering twitching sniffing sniffing.

Gutted.

A bell rang. A metal shutter got pulled down. I screamed a little.

OI!! I banged my fist against it. Through the small metal fishnet I could see the assistants tearing off their aprons and talking about soap operas. Idiots. Bloody fucking idiots.

I checked my phone. There was a text waiting off him Can’t wait to see you baby. Been thinking of u all day. Cum round weneva. xxxxxxx

Bollocks. He hadn’t been with me without the scent, yet. I imagined the sort of men the shop assistants were currently shagging. Poor bastards. Probably wouldn’t know them without the coke or the botox. Should they answer the door one day to a sober woman with a full scope of facial expressions, they’d probably slam the thing in their face.

That would be me.

He’d be blindfolded and gagged.

He’d be routing about in darkness.

Have you cut your hair? Have you been on the sunbeds? Have you painted your nails a different colour? Did you always have that much pubic hair? How long have you had that scar on your wrist for? You don’t work out do you? Is that whiskey on your breath? You’ve got a seed in your teeth. I never noticed your bingo wings before. You’ve got awfully big feet for a girl don’t you? And, what’s that smell? Uuuuurrrrrrggggh. Yuck. You smell fucking human.