Shadows from the House of Scent Ch. 01

The dildo was so big that even for the shoot, back when Dean filmed her, she expended considerable effort for it to enter her pussy. So, this time, she only let the tip enter her. Her tiny cunt wrapped around it and it made her feel so full. She moved back and forth and felt that she was already close to the edge.

After a few moments, she felt an orgasm wash over her. It wasn't as powerful as she would have liked, but her body felt more relaxed.

Nonetheless, the fantasy remained. She would have liked her imaginary Master to take her in his large arms, or even better, whip her for being such a slut.

~~~~~~

Lizzy went into the living room, sat on the couch, and flipped through the latest issue of the "New Yorker" that had arrived in the mail. She had subscribed to it for the reviews and the short stories.

She was meant to be a writer. Always, she thought it was supposed to happen. All the pieces had fallen into place back in the day: the Ivy League college scholarships, the first-place writing prizes she won, and the accolades from her professors.

It wasn't just academic. She had her own voice and writing style. She even had life experiences, traveling abroad and meeting people from all walks of life, experiences that enlivened her novels and characters. She penned novels, poems, screenplays, critiques, and short stories for fiction sites (one even on an online erotic fiction site). She sent her work to agents, publishers, and editors. She spoke with other writers and was introduced to agents. She had hoped to publish and be represented. She had dreamed of all these things and had both worked hard and laid the groundwork to attain them.

Now, she was a librarian. "Liz, no -- Lizzy -- the librarian," she repeated to her image in the mirror.

Time has a habit of moving forward. It is like a train that doesn't wait for its potential passengers. For so long, she had now been concentrated on helping Dean. That was the thing about time. Still, Lizzy was not a sad and brooding person. She did not dwell on the past or what could have been. She believed in the orgastic future and waited expectedly as if the next bright moment was just around the corner.

Nonetheless, she contemplated how dreams and hopes churn forward, interweaving with time. They resemble a train moving onward. As we watch it speed by, its siren, like our aspirations, grows louder and more high-pitched. In that moment, it feels as though we can reach out and grasp it, holding it in our hands. But then, it passes. Its frequency and volume diminish until, like the train itself fading into the distance, it disappears.

~~~~~~

Dean came in and sat on the wingback chair next to her.

"My sister called."

"She did?" Lizzy responded, lifting her brow. "That must have been a surprise!"

"It was."

"In what part of the world is she in now?"

"She just got back from Asia. Hong Kong, I think."

"That sounds interesting!"

"I guess so," he replied, noncommitted. "I don't know what she does there."

There was a pause and silence. Lizzy knew there must have been more. Most times, it was to send her money or to get her out of a fix. Dean was being cagey about it this time, so it was certainly something. She wasn't going to ask him, however. He would have to come out with it.

He finally spoke.

"She's going back."

"Oh, she must like it there," Lizzy responded, not making it easy for him. She flipped the pages of the New Yorker.

He got up, walked toward the window, pulled the curtains apart, and looked out. His warm breath fogged the cold glass. The yellow street lights below appeared more diffuse through the haze. Like a child in a whimsical game, he intentionally breathed on the glass, trying to cover the entire window with fog. He was attempting to obscure the outside world as if to prevent it from intruding into his comfortable and familiar space.

"She asked if her daughter could come and visit with us."

"Your niece?"

"Yeah. My niece, Amber."

"What did you say?"

"Well, I mean, what could I say?"

There was a pause.

"Dean, it is your niece. I don't mind. How long is she coming for?"

"She didn't know. But, since she has to leave her flat... or whatever.... Well, it's like this, Amber doesn't have a place now."

"Oh."

Lizzy realized that this was not a visit. It was a move.

"And her Dad?"

"Missing in action, as you might say," he paused. "Not even sure where he is. Maybe too much hash. Who knows." He looked out through the foggy window again. "But, she didn't want Amber to go back with her."

Dean closed the curtain and came and sat down again.

"So, she will be moving in with us permanently?"

"Yeah, something like that."

It had been a while since he had seen Amber. Lizzy had only heard about her. The last time Dean saw her was probably ten or eleven years ago. They didn't even have photos of her since Dean's sister was a free spirit, living all over the world as a bohemian, and didn't call unless she needed something. His sister didn't even show up for the funeral of their parents a couple of years ago because Dean was unable to locate her.

One thing was coming for a visit, but it was a big move that Amber would be essentially moving in with them.

"Well, it is your niece, Dean. Since she doesn't have anywhere to go, for me, she is more than welcome here."

Dean picked up one of the Kurst books that was on the table and started to flip through it. The cover art showed a large number five, a noir detective, and a naked woman. It was from the graphic novel series a few years ago called, "Bare Skin and Cuffs". It was the first series that featured Guy. It was his first case and was raw, and pure Kurst.

"This is fucking brilliant," he said, changing the subject.

She looked at him. He was still boyish and immature, perhaps too much so. Of course, she wished that he would react differently, like an adult, with emotional intelligence, realizing the sincerity, generosity, and love that Lizzy had just shown towards him and the situation, and accepting Amber above her own privacy. But, alas, she knew it was now her job to convince, to cajole, to play the grown-up.

"Dam it, man, my filming is going to suffer. Fuck! What about the film? I'm so close to finishing," he said suddenly.

"Dean, it doesn't have anything to do with it. She won't interrupt your film."

"What do you mean?" he said, bothered. "I'll have to give up my office. We won't be able to shoot you in,... well, you know... naked." He paused looking at her. "And the sex scenes. Fuck, those are important for Kurst's books."

Lizzy remained silent, waiting until he calmed down.

"And," he tried to present all his arguments, if only to demonstrate his stubborn egoism. "She's still a kid and I don't like kids."

"She can't be that much of a kid. How old is she? 18 or 19?"

"19".

"Well, she is a young woman now."

Nonetheless, he did not want to concede. He pouted and continued to flip through the Kurst book. In one scene, the protagonist enters a dungeon to save his "side-kick", Kath. She is shown naked. Her wrists and ankles were tied.

"Look at the details of these drawings," he says, as if there is no other more pressing conversation ensuing, Turning the book to her. "It's incredible. Check out how Guy looks at her and her expression."

Lizzy looks at the same scene for the thousandth time; out of politeness or to humor him.

"What does she look like?"

"Who? Kath?" he looks down at the book. "Don't you see her? She looks like you."

"Dean. Not Kath. Be serious. I'm talking about Amber."

"Oh," he says, obliged to return to the conversation. "She's probably 300lbs," he laughed. "When she was eight or nine and came to visit, she was very chubby. Kinda cute, but chubby."

"That was a long time ago. Besides, there is nothing wrong with being chubby," Lizzy said.

He shrugged his shoulders, acting defeated.

"And she ate continuously."

He didn't want to see anything positive in this.

"We'll have to buy a shitload of food," he said dismissively, looking back at the book, flipping to the next page.

The next scene shows Guy behind the girl, cupping the girl's small breasts in his hands, while he kisses her neck. The following page shows Guy with a hand on her pussy mound, with its thick hair and her thick meaty lips emerging from it below. Finally, the subsequent scene shows Guy undoing her cuffs.

"I'm sure she is cute," Lizzy said cheerfully. "If she looks anything like you."

He lifted his gaze and their eyes connected. A glimpse of the cute, boyish Dean, with his kind eyes that she loved so much, showed through. Those eyes and demeanor had made her fall in love with him.

"Thanks," then he went back to looking at the book and brooding.

He turned the book to her and pointed to the drawing in the scene with Guy's hands cupping Kath's breasts, as she is spread eagle, totally exposed and helpless, with her wrists and ankles cuffed.

"Do you remember when we filmed this?" he asks.

"Yeah," she responds, incredulously at his aversiveness.

"You were fucking hot!"

Lizzy smiles. "Dean, please. This is serious."

He returned to looking at the book. "So is this," he said.

Lizzy could tell that he was not having anything of it. He was too self-absorbed and with a mental block at the moment. There was no point in pressing forward. it would pass, she thought.

"When is she arriving?"

"Tomorrow."

~~~~~~ : ~~~~~~

3: (House of Scent Act1.S1) Guy

The email arrived as he expected. Attached was a PDF file. Kurst read the second note he had received from her.

~~~~~~

Dear Mr. Kurst.

As we talked about, I am sending you the first few scenes of Act 1 of the script. When you write back, I will uphold my end of the bargain. I promise.

xoxo, Amber Lynch

Screenplay Title: "The House of Scent"

by: (name removed by Amber Lynch)

~~~~~~

Act 1. Scene 1: The introduction and setting.

Set this scene is in the bar next to Guy's office, downtown on the East side, close to Worth, and a stone's throw to Chinatown. It is a gritty 1940s setting, in the classic noir style. The streetlights and blinking neon lights illuminate the fog outside, providing a surreal aura mixed with steam from the nearby elevated (or "El") subway.

It is a flashback. Guy looks in rough shape, not high on his game; down and out, but trying to retain some dignity, despite his present alcoholic state.

MAN IN BAR: How do you like your whisky?

GUY: "In a glass."

The camera zooms out. Guy pauses, taking a drag from a cigarette and looking at the man. Now the camera is behind the Man.

GUY: "And up to the top."

The camera shifts to the Man. The man smirks. He pours the whisky into the two glasses.

MAN IN BAR: "Chick has a job for you."

The camera shifts to include both men.

GUY: "Chick Smart?"

MAN IN BAR: "Yeah. That's the one. He wants you to go down there tomorrow. Sex crime. Right up your alley. Ya know? It is a fucking nasty business. But I told him you can handle it."

Guy looks at him and then back at his drink.

GUY: "Yeah, well,... now they're always fucking nasty."

He tries to act cool, but he needs the job. It shows. The camera zooms in on him. Guy is a detective. He takes a drag on his cigarette and then his hand returns to the table, tapping it nervously. His appearance is of a typical hard-boiled detective; he wears a tailored double-breasted suit, the fabric is dark, navy blue but has seen far better days; he has a white shirt, that in some places is not white, and a dark tie; he is also wearing a fedora hat. Draped over the chair next to him is a classic trench coat.

His cigarette is always lit. He takes another hit, then a drink of the whisky.

He wasn't always a detective. Before, he was on the police force. Undercover. But, he was framed. Now, he takes on sex crimes. The stuff the cops don't want or know how to touch.

While he sits there, the scene should go from one flashback to the other. The first flashbacks will show newspaper headlines, one after another "Bent copper", "Copper takes bribes", "Crooked, guilty", then finally, "Case dismissed on crooked copper."

The next flashback shows a scene with Guy in a bar drinking, being turned away from his job by his boss; the boss should be sitting in his office behind the desk, and Guy standing.

BOSS: "Sorry Guy, upstairs they tell me to send you home."

Another flashback should show a drunken Guy, and his wife leaving him; then him in his apartment.

The scene returns to the bar.

GUY: "Alright, I'll see him."

~~~~~~ : ~~~~~~

4. (House of Scent Act1.S2) Kath

Act 1; Scene 2: Interior -- Day. Guy's office.

In the next scene, we see Guy in his office. Pan the camera around the room. It is the present. He is cleaner and well-kept, his hair combed back. He has recovered to some extent from the previous scene and it has the impression that some months have passed.

Now in his small, somewhat dingy office off Worth Avenue on the East Side, the scene unfolds. The camera pans from the glass door, etched with Guy's name, around the modestly furnished office. On the desk sits a black typewriter, next to a large ashtray brimming with cigarette butts. Guy is perched at his desk, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he types. He's pecking at the keys laboriously, using one finger from each hand. The smoke from his cigarette wafts up into his eyes, causing him to furrow his brow and twist his mouth awkwardly in an attempt to keep the stinging smoke at bay.

The camera sweeps toward the window of Guy's office, revealing a view overlooking the city. It moves closer, zooming in to showcase the scene outside. Just beyond the window, elevated train tracks dominate the view. The rumbling sound of a city train echoes as it moves past, its vibrations causing the contents of the office to quiver subtly. The camera's focus extends past the metallic structure of the "elevated railway," gradually bringing the bustling streets of Chinatown into view in the distance.

A knock is heard at his door.

GUY: "Yeah, who is it? Come in."

The shot is wide. It shows the door and the detective sitting at his desk. Immediately, the shot is changed so that it is behind the detective looking from his POV at the door. It is Kath.

~~~~~~

Kath, much younger than Guy, is his friend and a freelance artist and writer. She comes from high society. Radiating elegance and well-educated, she nonetheless carries a murky past. She was a high-class call girl. A prostitute, who catered to the depravities and BDSM fetishes of the very rich. But now she is trying to stay straight, especially in the eyes of Guy, for whom she has fallen in love.

~~~~~~

The scene is a flashback.

They are sitting at an outdoor restaurant in the courtyard of an expensive hotel, the Waldorf Astoria. Music in the background is playing a polka, performed by a small orchestra with men dressed in white suits. There are lots of people around them. The camera zooms in on them, capturing both in the same scene. Kath is smiling and happy, feeling in love. Guy is serious and won't let his guard down, but his eyes show how he is enamored by her. It shows that he wants to love her, despite knowing what she was or maybe still is.

KATH: "Why don't you give that copper's brain of yours a rest?"

The camera is positioned behind Guy, capturing Kath in a frontal view. It then pivots to focus on Guy, whose expression is a mix of reserve and mild amusement, subtly engaging in the banter. He sits upright, maintaining steady eye contact with her. The camera then transitions to a frontal shot, centering on Kath as she continues with the game.

KATH: "Every time I look at you, I can see it running through your mind, always. Once a crook always a crook, once a tramp always a tramp."

She smiles at him, her expression teasing. Guy, though appearing steadfast, clearly enjoys the playful exchange. He finds himself unable to look away from her. She radiates beauty and animation, embodying a sense of youthful exuberance and happiness. Yet, as Guy watches her, a thought lingers in his mind: "She is what she is". He feels a desire to love her but is held back by uncertainty over whether he can truly trust her. When he was a cop, he brought her to the station many times for prostitution.

KATH: "Go on, you can hold my hand. I won't bite you. I won't blackmail you later."

She says this playfully, teasing him and smiling. Guy continues to look at her, smiling at the game, knowing that she is playing with him and his emotions. He remains silent.

KATH: "Scared?"

GUY: (He sits straight, smirking In a cool way, bemused by the girl) "I've always been scared of women. But I'll get over it."

KATH: "And now you're scared of yourself, Guy. You're afraid you'll fall in love with me."

GUY: "That wouldn't be hard."

KATH: "Careful. Careful," she says playfully.

The camera shifts. He is trying hard not to change his expression of bemusement. He remains looking at her.

The camera shifts back to Kath.

KATH: "You're afraid you'll fall in love with a tramp and whore. Instead of just fucking me hard, you will become all soft with me. And you will hate yourself for it."

GUY: "You enjoy making fun of me."

The camera zooms in on Kath. She smiles nervously now, allowing her emotions to come through. Her expression becomes more serious suddenly, demonstrating that all of the previous was just a good act. A farcical show.

KATH: "No Guy, I'm making fun of myself."

Guy looks at her.

KATH: "I'm pretending that I'm a nice unspoiled girl whose heart is filled with daisies and buttercups."

While Kath senses that Guy has feelings for her, he struggles to lower his defenses. He is always in control. He is suspicious and scarred by the past. He keeps his emotions in check -- and he makes an effort to be cold for his own protection.

GUY: "Nice daydream. And then what?"

She becomes serious and at once sad. His coldness hits her hard.

Realizing that he is getting the upper hand, she changes her expression to that of lighthearted happiness. She calls the waiter and orders another drink.

Their relationship, therefore, unfolds indirectly, through Guy's detective cases. For Kath, being alongside Guy, even like this, provides some solace. She yearns for more but resigns herself to this proximity. They've shared intimate moments, yet inevitably, they revert to this guarded dynamic, a self-protective reflex for both.

~~~~~~

Kath enters Guy's office with grace. Her hair is short black, styled in a typical 1940s fashion with soft waves that frame her face, and she wears a French black beret that is tilted on the side. Although she wears makeup, it is subtle.

Her eyes are gray, and her body is slender and thin. She wears a tailored knee-length skirt that skims her form; a white blouse, and a well-fitted jacket; modest yet subtly accentuating her figure. It has a subdued checkered pattern, exuding elegance. Around her neck is a simple string of pearls, tasteful and minimal. and she wears modest earrings. She wears polished, closed-toe high heels, and her legs are clad in sheer stockings.

As she enters, the camera follows her. It focuses on her poise and confidence, as seen by her deliberate movement through the room.

They begin with their normal banter. The self-protective mechanism they have established.

GUY: "Good morning."

KATH: "So you do get up in the morning, (she says sarcastically and with a grin) I was beginning to think you worked in bed like Marcel Proust."

GUY: "Who's he?"

KATH: "You wouldn't know him. French writer."

The camera follows her walking in. She is being playfully sarcastic.

GUY: "Well, welcome to my Boudoir."

She smiles, and the camera angle widens. Kath's eyes sweep across the room, taking in its drab and basic appearance. Her gaze lingers on the office's disordered state, which is subtly implied. As the camera opens up to follow her gaze, the untidiness of the office becomes more evident. This visual exploration sets the stage for her to continue with the playful game.