Tristan put his hand into the front right pocket of his pants.  He twisted his hand back and forth, opened his fingers wide, then squeezed them around his powerfully muscular quadriceps. He removed his hand, tensed his right oblique muscle, and shifted downwards to the right.  Tristan patted the pocket just above his knee, and found nothing there either.  He rotated his torso to the left, and performed the same action upon the pocket above his left knee.  Then, he straightened, and patted the pocket at his left hip and thigh with his right hand.

He encountered nothing but solid muscle beneath his worn coverings.

Tristan’s left hand, that which held the liberated panel of flesh, moved  towards his chest, and gently, but temporarily, resealed the muscle fibers into a solid wall.  The C-shaped outline still blazed red upon his chest, but Tristan knew it would take some time before the flesh and muscle fused, and became a solid panel.

Tristan turned to the door at his left, and stepped towards the frame.  As he passed underneath it, he began to notice several smells. The wet cloth, mustiness, and damp wood scent of the bathroom gave way to perfumed air.

What he smelled was a delectable bouquet of lavender, honey, vanilla, honeysuckle, and sweet breads baking in the oven.  There were minute wisps of cardamom, saffron, and fresh, blooming, roses that rounded out the olfactory experience.

Tristan turned to find the source of the invigorating sweetness upon his senses, though he had a reasonable inkling about the source.  Emerging from the door frame, he rotated to the right, eyes expecting to see the drab accommodations where he had spent the last few nights, but which his sense of smell told him otherwise.  As he turned, the aroma intensified, and his vision began to blur.  The rented room began to flicker, and the smell hung in the air, as cloying vanilla, honey, and lavender dripped from the air.  He breathed in, and the fragrant, dense, cloud filled his lungs.  With his tongue, he could taste the sweet, rich, bee nectar in the air.   A thin liquid velvety sheen, of sugared lavender formed on his lips, and Tristan impulsively flicked his tongue out and across his upper lip to fuse the multitude of flavors.  The air that filled his lungs felt warm,  was accented with floral notes, and caused slight tingling on the inside.

Suddenly,  he couldn’t clearly distinguish where he was, then what he was smelling, and finally, the flavors he was supposed to be experiencing.  Tristan almost swooned with ecstasy, as the joint onslaught on his senses began to overpower him. He did the only logical thing that his reeling mind could muster at that point.

He closed his eyes, shut his mouth, brought his right hand to his face, then pinched his nostrils closed.

Though he couldn’t see it, Tristan felt a shift in the room.  Without the assault on his sense of smell, or upon his mouth and lungs, his equilibrium returned.  His legs felt more stable, his mind more clear, and his senses regained their acute functioning.

Internally, he began counting his potential breaths.  When he reached a count considerably longer that most would endure, he decided that it was time to open his eyes first, take in his surroundings, then see if the rest of his senses could be liberated.

Tristan dropped every safeguard when he opened his eyes.

She was lying on the bed in front of him.  He was at the foot of it, staring down at her.  She lay facing the outside wall, made of brick, which surrounded the window, that with an ivory frame, which housed smoky-gray panes of glass.  She lay on her right side, her left arm held straight out from her body, with her hand placed at the precise center of his absence. Her left leg was oriented in an obtuse angle, covering the place where his knees would have met his shins.  A dove-white blanket secured her immaculate nakedness, leaving only her left arm, exposed from the shoulder down, and her toned, milky-white, right leg, revealed slightly below her buttocks.

Tristan leaned over the bed, and placed his left knee on the mattress.  He reached forward with his left hand, and placed his fingertips just below the rounding between her foot and ankle.  He slowly drew his hand up her leg, towards her knee, stopping with his forefinger in front of her kneecap, thumb behind, and three remaining fingers behind her leg, cupping the back of her knee.  With slow circles, he slowly massaged with his thumb.  He felt the smooth, silky, warmth of her skin in his palm, and through his fingers.  He felt the tone of her lower quad muscles as he rotated his thumb.  He slowed the rotations with his thumb to a halt, shifted his body slightly to the right, and rotated his hand so that his fingers were on the inside of her leg, his thumb on her hamstrings.  Then, he moved his hand further upwards, stopping at the upper thigh, where he brought his thumb around and gently squeezed.

She shifted her head ever so slightly, then Tristan saw her shoulders shift underneath the blanket.  A soft murmur escaped her lips, only to be absorbed by the cascade of raven hair that flowed over the alabaster blanket.

Tristan eased himself on the bed, and inched himself closer to her, moving his left hand from her thigh, bringing it under and through the blanket to her bare shoulder.  He brought his body to hers, and pressed his powerful chest against her back.

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils and mouth, smelling the lavender, saffron, and vanilla in her hair, tasting the honey, and cardamom, and breathing in the honeysuckle.

He propped himself on his right arm, and drew his hand around her body and to her face.  He pulled the ebony strands back behind her ear, and he leaned his face towards her.  He placed his moist lips just behind her jaw line, slightly below her earlobe, and held for uncountable heartbeats.  He closed his eyes and took deep draw of air through his nostrils, then pulled back, leaving slight traces of passion dew upon her neck.

His left hand moved towards her neck, finding the delicate bones in her shoulder, and then, tracing her collar-bone, he found the necklace.  His fingers pinched the leather, and followed the strand until they met the key.  He wrapped his hand around the metal, and gripped tightly.

With his left hand, Tristan slowly drew the leather band up, while his right hand gently tilted her head, at the neck, with the middle, ring, and smallest finger, as the thumb and forefingers spread, to help the leather band clear her ear and face.

Once beyond her head, the band was liberated with an abrupt whoosh, and swirl of silky, dark hair.

Tristan slowly eased himself from his spooned position, up to his former knee-upon-the-bed perch. He leaned down, and placed a quick kiss upon her exposed thigh, then stood from the bed.

Tristan, once again, began to smell lavender, vanilla, and honey.  He immediately stuffed the key into the pocket of his pants, and brought his right hand up to pinch his nose.

Various pulsations began to occur around the room.  Firstly, the walls began to shimmer and undulate in an erratic fashion. Then, the floor began to surge, swell, and then calm.  Afterwards, distortions began to occur all around him, until it seemed that the surrounding air was reverberating. Tristan shut his eyes.

He breathed in thick, viscous air. It was filled with a drowning sweetness. Tristan staggered, and then regained a slight balance by finding purchase with his left hand.  It filled his lungs, and caused him to feel like he weighed several tons.  It pulled at his insides, and made him feel frenzied.  Then, it became soporific. He felt it pulling down his eyelids. He felt it dragging him down.

So he closed his mouth.

He counted for longer than most could bear, then he removed his hand from his nose, allowed his lips to slacken their grips on themselves, and opened his eyes.