Arousing Daddy's

by Taylor Sparks

  "I'm afraid that it's a question of character, Miss Black, not simply ability." Sara stood up and began to pace the room, each footstep sounding like the crack of doom. "A CV isn't simply a list of qualifications, it is a solemn oath, made from prospective employee to prospective employer. It is a promise of honesty and integrity, and to find out that you have not kept that promise in one area casts a shadow on your entire tenure here at Saint Agatha's."

  Veronica looked honestly shocked at the idea. "But Saint Agatha's means the world to me!" she said. "I love it here--I only lied on my resume because I couldn't stand the thought of not being able to spend my whole life working with the young women who pass through these halls. There was never any real malice, I swear to that."

  "And just what is that oath worth now?" Sara said, standing over Veronica and glaring intently at her. "I cannot trust a woman whose foundation here at Saint Agatha's is a farrago of lies and deception. You will need to come clean with me about everything, Miss Black, if you wish to have even a hope of retaining your position."

  "And if I do?" Veronica's confidence seemed to have completely deserted her now.

  "Then I shall certainly factor it into my deliberations," Sara replied. More than likely, it would decide the question of whether to simply throw her out, or to have her horsewhipped first, but Sara would decide that after hearing what the other girl had to say.

  "Alright," Veronica said. "As you already know, I didn't attend Oxford. I went here, to Saint Agatha's. The days and nights I spent within these walls were some of the happiest of my life, Miss Daniels, but circumstances prevented me from completing my studies here." Sara made a mental note to look up the girl's academic record. No doubt she left under a cloud of some sort.

  Veronica reached over and picked up her resume. As she looked it over, she continued to speak. "Let me see..." she said. "I never did an internship at Charing Cross Hospital in their physical therapy ward. Everything I know about athletics and sports medicine is entirely self-taught." Sara shuddered to think that this woman had been in charge of the university's physical education program for three years with next to no professional training in the prevention or treatment of sports injuries.

  "I did not, in fact, win the bronze medal with the Olympic women's curling team in 2006," she continued, her eyes skimming down the page. "I actually don't know how curling is scored, exactly. I know it's kind of like shuffleboard, but I'm not sure what the brooms are for."

  She flipped the page. "Where it says that I was published in the Lancet seven times, that should read zero. I do read the magazine, though. Well, not all of it. Just the things that look sort of interesting. Um, I have never won the Boston Marathon, I did not actually win a Nobel Prize for Medicine...oh! I'd forgotten I even wrote that one. No, I wasn't an early member of the Spice Girls. Although I did meet Posh once, she was doing a signing in Manchester..." She noticed Sara's eyes boring into her, and continued quickly. Again, though, Sara got that strange feeling of theatricality, as though the other woman was playing along with a private joke.

  "I don't actually have any teaching experience prior to this--the other posts I listed are entirely made up. I don't even think there is a 'Byron University', actually." She blushed. "Sorry, I know I'm saying 'actually' a lot. Um, I didn't do post-graduate work at Oxford, either. Because I didn't graduate ever."

  "I didn't do any work with the United Nations World Health Organization, I did not write Billie Piper's hit 'Honey to the Bee', and...ah! Yes, I didn't actually win a BAFTA. I did some summer theater, though, and several people told me I was quite good."

  Sara's anger was practically incandescent by now. Turn out the lights, and she half-suspected one could see her glowing in the dark with rage. "I see," she said, spitting the words out furiously. "Is that entirely all?" Sara knew it wasn't; she'd read the ridiculous claims so many times she'd practically memorized them.

  "Um, no," Veronica said contritely. "I didn't secretly get the OBE for rescuing Prince William from Iraqi insurgents during the second Gulf War."

  "Oh? I never would have guessed." Sara gave the words a contemptuous spin. "So there are no more 'little white lies' on that CV, now? You've come completely clean?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Veronica said hopefully.

  "So your claim to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for 'World's Fastest Hypnotic Induction'?" Sara replied with scorn in her voice.

  "No, that one's entirely true," Veronica said, springing out of her chair. She grabbed Sara's wrist with one hand, and the back of her neck with the other. She pulled Sara's arm down sharply and said, "Sleep."

  Sara couldn't quite remember events after that. Everything seemed hazy, but she distantly recalled slumping rapidly forward as her eyes fluttered closed. She remembered sagging into Veronica's arms, the hand on her neck pulling her downwards with an almost irresistible force. The suddenness of the whole sequence of events had taken her completely by surprise, and she found herself in a state of dreamy confusion before she knew it.

  Beyond that, her mind grew even more fuzzy. She could recall sinking down even deeper, feeling the thick carpet scratching against her knees as Veronica guided her down to the floor. She remembered the warm, soft feel of resting her head on Veronica's thigh, and the slickness of saliva at the corner of her mouth as she drooled just a little onto the other girl's skin. All of her memories were centered around her sense of touch; somehow, her eyes didn't want to open again once they'd closed.

  She remembered some sounds, but not at all clearly. She knew Veronica was talking to her, but she couldn't remember the words. It was all very important and very logical, though, and Sara listened intently even as she forgot what she was listening to. It was more important to feel than to remember.

  She also remembered a smell and a taste, but they were too unfamiliar for her to place afterwards. It was a sort of musky perfume, very thick in her nostrils, and a taste that was slick and deliciously salty on her lips. Sara remembered licking away at...at...at something warm and wet to get every bit of the taste she could, but she couldn't recall what it was. It didn't matter, she knew. She was sure to remember the next time she tasted it.

  Other than that, it was all a blur for the next few hours. Just a vague impression of moaning and whimpering, and almost indescribable pleasure. Sara definitely remembered the pleasure, at least. Next to that, everything else seemed distant and unimportant, especially tiny and insignificant errors on Veronica's CV. Sara had already decided not to worry about them even before she woke up.

  When she did wake up, Veronica had already left. Just as well, Sara decided. The young woman probably had lots to do, and Sara didn't want to get in her way. She'd made her point clear, even if she couldn't quite remember what that point was. It was unfortunate that she'd had to get so angry, but it was nothing personal. She quite liked Veronica. But with some people, you just had to give someone a good tongue-lashing to get them motivated.

  The End.

  The Aroused Female

  Notice the Scent of an aroused female. Detect her arousal and her betrayal.

  The innate ability to smell things others don't quite get, or before anyone else smells them has always been with me. It both blesses and curses me.

  In a crowded elevator, stinky crotches, smelly feet bad breath, unwashed sweaty bodies and clothes always smell stronger to me than to others, I have found. If I am on an bus with a friend and I say, "Oh, did you smell her shitty underwear?" after we get off.

  Invariably, my friend will deny smelling anything and think I am off my medication or something.

  The ability to smell the aroma of love is the reward that I get for the punishment of putting up with all the nasty things people present in public. I can smell a woman's oestrus quickly and from some distance. It is so entertaining for me to go into a restaurant and walk around smelling the food mingled with differing women's scent. Most women know when they smell aroused, because they, themselves can smell it. It is so fun when they try to
be covert and get away with it, unnoticed. Usually they do, but when I am around, they are my prey, though I never take advantage, I just find some way to acknowledge them with a silent, knowing smirk or a glance and a nod or wink.

  I was at my next door neighbor's house when his athlete daughter, Karen, came in after her volleyball practice. She played for the local Junior College Volleyball team and was considered a star player. Good looking! Mmmmm that girl is a stunner. She wears; just past her shoulder light silky blonde hair, blonde eyebrows and eye lashes, and sky blue eyes, with tanned skin and she stands 5'9" tall, weighs about 125, has medium to small but firm breasts, a sculpted athlete's belly, butt and legs and a bright, sweet personality to boot. She was 19 and in her freshman year at Junior College right in our town. She's majoring in physical education and is studying to be a high school coach for girls' volleyball and basketball.

  I've watched this luscious plumb grow into a woman from a girl. I've been around her as she matured and was witness to her unusual scents as she went through her hormonal changes while becoming an adult.

  I remember when Karen had her first date. Her dad and I were visiting in their home at 10 pm that night when she got home. The second she was in the door, I could smell her heightened arousal. Nothing had happened, but she was definitely turned on. She went up to her room, and soon I could smell that she was masturbating, the odor changed, intensified. After she was finished, she came down into the living room to sit with us and I looked at her with a knowing, mused look. She looked at me and recognized that I knew what she'd been up to. Her eyes went to the floor and a flush came across her, I could immediately smell her again. She oozed off a scent of 'somebody, mate with me'.

  As an athlete, Karen worked out a lot. Sometimes working out releases those pheromones into the air and a woman's arousal becomes more apparent just from her exertion. I don't know what it is, but just working out would turn Karen on. Her heightened odor would be so strong to mate sometimes, that I almost thought I should try it. But, I never did, I just kept my secret to myself and enjoyed her.

  When she was a senior in High School, after she turned 18, her car had been in the shop and her folks were working at the times she needed a ride home after practice. So, for a week, they asked me to pick her up from school and get her home after practice. All that week I noticed subtle changes in her aroused aromas. I wondered if the stronger aromas had something to do with how hard the workout was, or if something else was stirring her up. I asked, "So how was practice tonight, Karen?"

  "Oh, our coach was so sweet tonight. We've been working really hard and tonight he sat us down individually and critiqued our upcoming role with the team for this season. He pulled me aside and told me I'd be the team captain this year because I am a natural leader and he wants to see me blossom into a college level player, and thinks I can achieve that if I work hard." She said. "He's offered to spend extra time with me after practices working on special talents I have hoping to highlight them."

  "Ah," I thought to myself. "That is the reason for such strong sexual smell tonight. She is crushing on her coach and his complimentary, maybe flirty offer."

  I've spent my life honing and perfecting my awareness, my sense of smell to a fine art. It gave me an advantage in situations oftentimes and so I kept it quiet, not mentioning it to people.

  And that is how I caught my wife cheating on me.

  Her smell gave her away to me, not just arousal, but the smell of a man on her, of his sperm, of his sweat, of his cologne, his breath on her skin. I could smell that she'd been with someone else this afternoon, and not too long before she'd come home.

  Though I've always had the ability to smell an aroused woman, I never shared about it with my wife. It gave me the edge of seduction when she was most open to it. She always thought I was just an exceptional lover, because I would do little things that elicited wafts of her approval to my nose and then lead her down that path to electric orgasms. I've been faithful to her during our entire courtship and marriage, though I had my fantasies, I never, ever touched.

  I was so stunned when I came home after a normal day and was confronted by a strong aroused woman, scent. My woman, I knew it by now, it was no other woman's aroma, it was Heather's, and it was mixed with the scent of semen and a man's cologne, not mine.

  I was crushed as this information rushed into my awareness and what it meant. My lover, my friend, my partner, my pal had betrayed me just today for the first time after 7 years of faithfulness, helpfulness, loving kindness and all that wraps up in two committed lives entangling more and more every day on their journey to becoming one.

  "So, Heather, what have you been up to this afternoon?" I asked, knowing, but hoping against hope.

  "Oh, I just worked out at the club, I just got home ahead of you, I need to go up and take a shower, and then I'll start on dinner." She said matter- of-factly, selling her 'trying to act normal' act.

  "I can smell that you do." I thought as my heart began to weep over her lie of omission. "Don't cook for me tonight; I'm off to a dinner appointment with a client from Seattle who is in town for a few days." I lied right back at her.

  I was glad that I could keep it together, because I was devastated. I stumbled out of the house into the garage and got in my car. I headed away from the house, aimlessly, in thought. I didn't need a private eye, didn't need to catch her in the act, I did catch her....she just did not know it.

  I returned home late, after the lights were out and left early before she stirred. I wasn't ready to confront her yet. I hadn't made up my mind what to do; I needed a little time to think this through. There was no mistake; I smelled the smell of another man on her. Her arousal could be attributed to the workout, but it was heightened beyond just a workout, so I knew the mingling of scents was a bad sign.

  I left her a message that I would be out of town, at company headquarters in Atlanta. They'd called me in to interview me for a promotion, but I did not tell her about the promotion.

  I got home a week later, it was the most time I could possible delay. When I walked in the house, the unmistakable scent of male sperm, male pheromones, male sweat, and male cologne assaulted my senses. My wife was washed clean, but the house was lousy with the scent of yet another man, different from the one I smelled last week.

  "Oh, honey, I missed you. You went to bed so late and up so early that night and then you left town for this past week without even telling me goodbye. Is something wrong?" She queried.

  "Who are they, Heather?" I spat.

  "What do you mean? Who are who?" she innocently asked.

  What has happened that you suddenly throw our plans, our lives, me, away?" I asked.

  "Why are you talking like this, Bill? You've been gone for a week, let's have some make up love and reconnect, baby." she offered.

  "Heather, have you had sex with someone other than me in the past 8 days?" I asked, "Actually, more than one someone, at least two, maybe more."

  She blanched. "No, I..., what could you mean?" she shakily replied.

  She had no idea how I could have come across this information, she'd been so careful.

  "we had hardly even had any contact with one another, and he couldn't possibly know anything yet." She reasoned silently.

  "Ok, so you and I are exactly the same now as 9 days ago? No other men have been plowing with my heifer? No other hogs rutting in my garden?" I dared.

  "Of course not, whatever would give you that idea, silly?" she answered. She was shivering and refused eye contact with me.

  I just turned and left. I drove over to the club. We belonged to a golf course association and it had swimming and weightlifting, sauna, massage rooms as well as treadmills and a track for working out. There was a golf pro, and a fitness trainer who both worked at the club full time and were available for golf lessons or to help clients with a fitness plan for working out. I had never been there yet, so I wasn't known, and had not met either the pro or the trainer.

  I walked
in and sniffed. I went up to the golf pro, and could smell his sweat. He'd just returned from a round of golf and was still perspiring and the smell of his stale cologne and sweat mingled together identified him to me as the first of my wife's paramours. Coldly, I faced him. His smile cut short when he looked into my face and saw the danger lurking there.

  "Keep your cock in your pants around the ladies of this club, motherfucker." I warned. "This is your one warning."

  He stood there, shocked, mouth open as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't think of just exactly what it was.

  I walked around outside the pro shop, upstairs to the workout gym. I walked in and it was laced with the odors of sweat and stale cologne, as well as female arousal and perfume. At first, I could identify no specific aroma, but I did get the slight scent of familiar sperm after a few minutes. I walked around the room and realized the familiar sperm smell was on another housewife, a friend of ours, who was working on the row machine. She was sweating and aroused to the max. Her body had been sprayed by the same man's sperm that left his scent in my house during the week I'd been gone.

  "So, this guy has a stable." It dawned on me.

  Processing what I had learned took me a couple of hours. I drove around thinking. I decided on a plan.

  I went back to the gym and put on some workout clothes and began just acting like I was working out. After about 30 minutes, the trainer came out of a massage room, followed by one of the older wives of the club. Her husband was on the board, they are very wealthy it has been said. The smell of her arousal, mixed with his sweat and sperm were unmistakable. This is my man. This was the scent from the man who's sperm was in my home when I got home earlier today, and his scent was on Shelly, the girl working on the row machine, and now on this older woman.

  The trainer was larger and in better shape than I. He would not be easily intimidated, nor readily beaten in a fair fight.