Scent and Sensuality

Hello everyone.

Something a bit different this time around---I've written a few furry stories before, and sometimes then convert them to humans to put on this site. However, I couldn't see any real way to transfer it to human characters, since their anthropomorphism is central to the plot. So I hope you give it a try, because I think it's a sweet lil' story ^-^

Love ya'll~

It was a strange choice, perhaps.

But it was the best thing for him.

After three weeks in hospital and two months couped up in a recovery centre, most might have wanted to go home. Not Quon. To him, all that was left of the place were memories--something different would be standing in its place now, something heartless, unknown.

So he'd begged Camilla to take him somewhere else, anywhere else, and she'd picked Elderwood. The same place they'd both spent their weekdays for the past twenty-five years.

"I don't believe you," he'd told her when they were in the car, coasting along what he assumed was a highway.

"Don't believe me about what?"

"I think you're taking me somewhere else. Let me guess... the park. No--the beach. I bet you've planned something romantic at the beach."

"We're nearly there. Roll down the window."

"What?"

"Go on."

He fumbled for the switch, pressed it. Felt his eyes squint shut against the sudden blast of wind. He had to shout over the roar. "Alright, what now?"

"Smell."

"What? Smell?" He drew in a deep breath, tried to pick out the scents. Rubber, fumes, fuel... behind that, the vague aroma of freshly cut grass. "I don't get it."

"What don't you smell?"

He thought. "Salt water. Sunshine. Happiness. Okay fine, not the beach then." He flicked the window back up and reduced the rushing wind to a rumble. They lapsed into a moment of silence.

"We can go to the beach if you want..." Camilla had piped up.

"No, it's fine. I wanna see what you had planned."

She'd sounded embarrassed when she said; "I think we should go to the beach."

But they hadn't. Instead they'd parked, carefully negotiated their way to the doors, and padded inside the Elderwood Complex food court entrance.

"I mean, it's... familiar, at least. I guess." Was it familiar? He supposed he could pick out the sounds of the arcade machines a few zones down, smell popcorn from the cinemaplex nearby. But if she hadn't told him it was Elderwood, he could have guessed any other mall.

Still, he tried to remain chipper. Didn't want her to worry. "Did you have anything specific planned? I'm getting pretty hungry."

Camilla had one paw on his shoulder, and she squeezed it lightly. "I... um... I just thought we could sorta wonder around. Sorry, this isn't what you wanted at all is it? I didn't have time to think of anything else, I just assumed we'd go back... home..." She trailed off.

He reached around, patted her hip. "This is nice. Let's eat and then you can take me around."

Before, they'd have split up to explore their favourite eateries and met with full trays at a table later on. But things were different now. Camilla took him to his favourite place, ordered something for herself there too. He wanted to tell her not to, tell her to go get a plate at "Hot Den" like she always did, but the thought of her leaving him alone stayed his words.

Carrying the trays was troublesome too. She was trying to guide Quon and carry her food while he held his own tray in front like a highschool newbie looking for a table in the canteen. When she tried getting him through the narrow aisles he bumped into one of the tables and nearly dropped everything. He hastily apologised to the general area but apparently the table's occupants weren't having it, telling him off until he felt Camilla make some kind of gesture and then the people in front of him were apologising themselves and their words dripped with pity. It made his jaw clench.

"Is there anywhere else we can go?" he begged when they'd extracted themselves.

"Um..." he felt Camilla briefly let go of his shoulder, before clamping her paw firmly back down a moment later "Yes. Actually, there is."

It was a bit of a walk, but they didn't bump into anyone else. He could hear the thrum of voices all around, so he wondered if Camilla was leading him expertly or if everyone else knew, were parting around him like some kind of biblical sea.

He had no idea where he was now. He'd been coming here for so long, yet he wasn't sure if they were passing the cinema or headed straight for the department stores. If it had been him leading Camilla, things would be different. She'd be pointing out scents and making jaunty and slightly insulting comments about other people, and her life would be the same, he thought. She was a terrier; sight was only part of her world.

In his first week at the clinic he'd learned newcomers were separated into three departments. It was supposed to help the staff make treatment plans, but to Quon it simply felt like dividing everyone up into how shitty their lives were going to be now. Those animals over there, they've got brilliant hearing, they'll do just fine. Those, they've got perfect smell... they might be a little slower, but they'll get where they need to go with ease. And... well, see that bandicoot over there? He's screwed.

He hadn't been a particularly good patient the first month at the treatment centre. He'd said some dumb stuff; told one of the youth speakers that it was different for her, that she was blind at birth so she "wasn't missing out." He was better about it now, but he still couldn't help the overwhelming sense that there just wasn't... any point anymore. He'd been able to see in the dark better than others could in the day. Could pick out the tiniest of imperfections in clothes and see colour like no one else. He'd been a designer at the peak of his game, and now...

"We're here."

"Where."

She reached around, tapped his nose. "Smell."

He sighed, took in a deep breath. It was hard picking things out in this smörgåsbord of weekend activity. "New shoes. Sweat. Pizza? When did we get a pizza place?"

"Keep going."

"Uh... tiles. Cleaning products. Damp fur... no, not fur... it's kinda like moss or something?"

Camilla squeezed his shoulder. "Exactly. And..?"

"Wood. Water. How didn't I smell that before? It's everywhere."

"You can hear it too."

He could, now that he thought about it. Behind the voices, the clink and clack of shoes and hooves and the irritating drone of a spruiker somewhere behind them, there was a small water feature... several small water features. "We're at the fountain."

"We are."

He smiled. "We had our first lunch date here."

"We did."

He leant back into her. She was a lot taller than him, and he liked that. She was this big, tall, stern-looking canine, but that also made her warm and firm and perfect to curl up next to.

"We haven't been here for ages."

"Australis is on the other side of the complex, and you're lazy."

He sighed. "I wish we'd come here more often. Is the water still kinda green?"

"Dunno. Doesn't matter. It smells better than it used to. Come on, let's sit over there."

"Over where, Camilla."

"Shit, uh... sorry." She steered him westward as he chuckled.

It hadn't always been called Australis. It used to be "Simmons", Camilla's last name. It'd been a cute little boutique that sold handmade clothes to rich aunties. He didn't much like the stock, had only applied because he was desperate to work somewhere that wasn't fast fashion. It turned out Simmons was very slow fashion--it had a workshop out back and the tailor had left several months ago.

She'd scared him at first. He'd almost wheeled around in the shop, resumé still clutched in his paw. But her eyes had kept him there, bright and gold and confidently amused. She'd pulled the paper from his paws, glanced it over, asked him what he was wearing. He'd said he'd made it himself, and she asked him when he wanted to start.

Camilla later told him it was his smell that caught her attention. Not his own scent--though apparently that had been nice too; foreign, exotic, tinged with dusk and sand and iron--but the strange aura of his outfit. It was a fetching shirt and trouser combo, and to her it smelt... like something between an orange and a freshly juiced plum, mixed with crumpled paper and dried sunflower leaves and... bees?

It was Quon's thing: he liked to make clothes out of unusual fibres. One of his friends back home made paarluc cloth--honeysuckle cloth--and he'd had a go stitching it into a scarf. It wasn't strong enough at first, so he'd had them add other local things, djiridj and eucalyptus, and that was it.

After he and Camilla had become partners, in business and in life, he'd suggested the name Boodja Madji. It roughly translated to "fibres from home", but Camilla didn't like it, wanted something less confusing to the everyday customer, something "sellable."

So "Simmons" had become "Australis", one shop had become sixteen, and the rest of their life had been written. Or so he thought.

"You've zoned out again."

They'd finished their meal and were sitting together now. Close enough that their fur was touching; his long and bristly, hers short and soft. He looked up at her, wondered if their eyes were meeting. "How could you tell?"

"I just know. What were you thinking about?"

"Us."

She squeezed his paw. "Me too."

"Dress me up."

A pause. "What?"

"Dress me up. Pick out some clothes for me. Whatever you want, I'll wear. There's not much point me doing it."

"Quondan..."

"I'm not being angsty again, I promise. Just... I'm not going to get much enjoyment out of it anymore, so... I want you to. Seriously, I'll wear anything."

Another pause. "...Anything?"

He wondered if he was going to regret this. "Anything."

Camilla stood up. For a brief moment they weren't touching. It was just him, on a bench, in the middle of a crowded complex bigger than an airport. He put his paw out, touched her thigh.

"What're you doing there?"

He trailed his paw up to a slightly more appropriate area. "Nothing."

"I was just stretching. Here..." she took his paw, held it tightly. He knew he'd have to practice with that stupid stick more, he couldn't rely on Camilla to lead him around forever, but... not yet.

"Where're we going?"

"Australis."

He scrunched his face up. "Really? We can go anywhere and that's where you choose?"

"Janie told me they've got the nighthide line in finally."

"Nighthide? That stuff's for newlyweds and randy couples, why do you... want..." He trailed off. The question lay tantalisingly between them. Camilla didn't answer it, just squeezed his paw again. He pressed his lips together, nose twitching. "Well, alright then."

They hadn't had sex in three months. Obviously not, he'd been in the recovery centre for most of it and that place wasn't exactly private. But even if he hadn't, he wasn't sure he'd be up to it. Still wasn't sure, really.

He'd found Camilla so very, very attractive. He'd adored looking at her, at her eyes and her face and her body and, yes, her magnificent bust. Of course there was so much else to love about her too, but... the thought of never being able to drink in the sight of her made it hard for him to get excited. And he knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it.

Nighthide hadn't been his idea, nor Camilla's. That little slice of seduction had come from Janie, the hip and trendy manager of their main shop. He still wasn't sure it was a good idea; their clientele wasn't exactly the kind to slip into silky lace and form-fitting, bulge-enhancing boxer shorts, but Janie had been confident that Australis" now-renowned sensory extras would capture the market "like never before". So they'd promised to give it a shot.

"Day five of Nighthide", Camilla said to the girl as they sidled behind the counter. "How's it going?"

It was busy, Quon could tell, and he picked out the voices of several other employees around the store. Janie was on the register, it seemed. He could hear the heavy crinkle of paper bags and the gentle whisper of clothes sliding into them. "Not good", was her reply. She sounded smug, which was odd, but then she always sounded smug.

Camilla knew more than Quon, apparently, because she too sounded amused. "Oh?"

"We keep selling it all in the first hour. There's a crate just been delivered out back but I can't get it on the floor "till tomorrow "cause of the promos."

Another loud crinkle, and then, "you have a lovely day now, and we'll see you again soon!" Janie's voice became slightly louder, and he figured she'd turned to face them. "Quondan, it's... good to see you in here again."

"I'd like to say the same, but..."

"Oh, I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"He's just making a joke, hun. Or trying to anyway", Camilla assured her.

"Gotta get something out of it", he grumbled.

"Hopefully the sales keep up, then. You've done a great job, Janie. Actually, I was rather hoping I could take a look at some of the finished products myself. Did you say there's some out back...? Good. Listen, I'm going to grab a few items and take Quon into the dressing rooms. I know you're busy but we'll need a while..."

"That's fine, I'll let the guys know to leave you alone."

He didn't use to like small spaces. They used to make him feel trapped.

But now, when he could reach out his arms and feel the walls, it comforted him.

He could feel Camilla's breath on his muzzle. It was warm, scented of their meal, and just slightly wet, moisture pricking the skin beneath his fur.

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

"Ready."

He jumped a little when her paws touched his hips. Her claws tapped him lightly as she took the hem of his shirt and began pulling it up. He normally wore dress shirts, smart trousers and polished shoes, but since the accident he'd only worn what was comfortable and easy to take on and off. He appreciated that even more now as he lifted his arms and let her pull it up and over his head. His hackles rose in the slightly cool air as he stood there, shirtless. Camilla placed her paw high on his chest, gently thumbed his long fur, then leant in and licked him on the side of his muzzle. Just a little show of affection, right on the corner of his lips, and it made him shiver. Tingles ran up his back as her paw slid down his chest.

She took his pants down too, and he gingerly stepped out of them. His underwear was still on, but he knew it wasn't hiding much. He waited, but she didn't come back up.

"Where are you?" he whispered. He waved a paw through the space in front of him--nothing. He felt the back of his head prick in needless panic.

A paw at his hip again, warm, comforting. The voice came from below him. "It's alright. Smell."

He took in a deep breath, concentrating, and was immediately assaulted by the potency of the shop's materials. Brushed cloth, soft cloth, velvet cloth; the spice of old fibres, and the dust of straw and musk; salt, earth, sand, smells of home; the luxury of spun silk mixed with geraniums and wattle. He'd spent so much time with each garment, pouring over its look and design, its colour and fit... but it was Camilla who'd been so entranced by the scent. She'd long experienced a part of it he'd never bothered with.

He could smell her too, of course, the scent of Camilla that made him feel so safe. But it was everywhere in this small room, he couldn't pinpoint it. He took another breath in through his nose, opening his mouth to introduce his tongue to the room, and he finally caught it; coconut and hibiscus. The other scent of Camilla. She kept her hair short, but the scent trails of the conditioner twirled up and around in his mind to a head-shaped blur, hovering right in front of his waist. He let out a little sigh, reached down. He was slightly off, hit her ear instead, but adjusted and ran his long fingers through her hair.

She briefly intwined her other paw with his before returning to the task at hand--his underwear. They were off before he could say anything, and he felt his penis bounce up and out. There was a scent to that too, just a light one, and he didn't half mind it. He tried to visualise how close she was to him, but she answered that question with a light kiss on his cockhead. He grunted, tried to push forward but she was already up and backing away.

"Not yet... we've got clothes to try on." He heard her ruffling around with fabric before stepping back up to him. "And remember, you said anything I want."

She had a shirt for him first. He could immediately tell which one after she held it up to his nose. It was infused with a strong-smelling bottlebrush--they called it kwowdjard back home--which made a stiff yet soft fabric ideal for button-ups. At least, that was the cited reason for its inclusion, but the other truth was that Camilla had said it smelled "extra sexy" during testing, then wrapped a length around his neck like a scarf and mounted him right there in the tailor's room.

"Really? The business in bed line?"

"Hey, you promised. I think they're cute."

The shirts were explicitly designed not to be buttoned up. Sure, they could, but they sat best open and nicely showed off the chest of the wearer.

Camilla "rrfff"ed happily when he got it on. She spent a while pinching various points, settling it onto his thin body, then stepped back. "Gah, you're adorable."

"What colour is it?"

"Smell."

He rolled his eyes--still a habit--then bent his neck and sniffed. Bottlebrush, coastal cotton, a hint of laurel... that was it. "I don't know," he sighed.

"You're doing good, just gotta practice more. Do it again with me." He heard her take a breath, then lick her chops. "Cherry, just a little, and... um, is it "Djuba"?"

He smiled. "Those tubers I brought it last year? It's "Djubak." A pink shirt, then?" He rotated on the spot, posing for her. "Nice choice. I looked good in pink."

"You still do." She let out a quiet chuckle. "When you twist like that your dick wobbles side to side."

"Hey, not so loud", he grumbled. "And wobble isn't a very sexy word."

"Yes it is!" She grabbed his paws and pulled him forward. He felt flesh, soft flesh, beneath her thick jumper, and he squeezed experimentally. He snorted when she shimmied her chest a little, making her breasts wobble.

"Okay fine, maybe it is. You know, I'm standing here all naked--"

"--Apart from a very sexy shirt."

"--Naked apart from a sexy shirt, but you're still all dressed up."

She hummed. "I didn't bring any clothes for me to try on."

"Oh yes you did." He slid the shirt off each shoulder and handed it over to her. "Go on."

She protested, but only for a moment. He listened to her undress, enjoying the quiet sounds of her movements. Fabric shuffled and then thumped to the floor. "Done."

He tapped his bare foot on the carpeted floor. "Done?"

"Yeah. Do you... wanna make sure?"

He grinned and moved forward. His step was slightly too big and he landed on her foot, pushed her back against the wall, and there was a brief pause before the both giggled. He put his paw up to her cheeks, guided by the smell of her hair, and stood on tiptoe to kiss her. Her tongue flickered over his teeth as he moved his paw downward and over her naked body.

She'd always clipped her fur short, kept it soft with careful grooming. It was a good reflection of her personality; short, blunt, confident, yet gentle and loving too. He loved her fur.

He found her neck, trailed his fingers to her collarbones. There was a chain just above them, small and fine. He leant in close, breathed in. Overwhelmingly Camilla, her fur and her sweat and her shampoo, but the metallic scent of her necklace too. It was the silver one with the beads, he decided.