There is a faint hint of her “shower fresh” deodorant, it is all but gone, yet I can still detect it. Once in awhile if her lovers thrust are grea... enough to make her breast flop, I can smell her breasts. The aroma from under them is amazing. I can smell the musky scent of her pussy as the wafts of air created by her lovers thrusts hit my face. The room is filled with pheromones; hers, his and mine. There is a faint smell of whiskey and beer on our breaths. His cologne and sweat are almost. Chad had straight A’s in everything, I think, but I doubt he’d mastered anything as well as writing. His paper on existentialism blew me away. His poetry included metaphors that weren’t ridiculous. He was only sixteen, while many of his peers had already turned seventeen. He had some nerdish qualities, and he played no sports, but he had a quick sense of humor and a bright smile. “Miss Taylor,” Chad began, “I’d like to interview you for the school paper. Do you have any time today?” “We can do. More

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