The Fragrance of You

Chapter 1 | This Smell Will Drive Your Boyfriend Crazy

Like most things, this ordeal started with something Jordan found on TikTok.

**THIS SMELL WILL DRIVE YOUR BOYFRIEND CRAZY!**

It wasn't the terrible acting that made Jordan interested. It was the comments. Hundreds of comments claimed that despite the bad promo, this smell made them irresistible to their boyfriends. Apparently, it was a pheromone thing—sent horny chemicals rushing right from their tiny brains to their dicks.

So what if Jordan wanted to try it out?

And so what if she ordered it?

The oil came to her apartment in a pretty box with a little "Tiktok's favorite pheromone oil!" written on a nice little card nestled beside the glass tube. Jordan unscrewed the cap and took a deep whiff.

'hmm.'

She took another deep whiff.

Jordyn furrowed her eyebrows, rubbed the oil on her wrist, and sniffed there.

'Nothing. Zilch. Nada.'

"Was I scammed?" Jordan muttered, reading the box. After surfing on YouTube and Google, she decided that she was, in fact, scammed. Scentless oil in a bottle. A waste of $24.99.

Well, Jordan at least had to test it out.

So, Jordan texted her boyfriend to come over, wore his big hoodie and sweatpants, rubbed the oil on her sweet areas—her neck, her elbows, her wrists—and waited patiently for him to show up. Maybe he'd smell her and wouldn't be able to resist. Jordan liked feeling irresistible and needed, liked feeling like people couldn't get enough of her, liked feeling like someone would beg just for a taste of her.

Jordan didn't make her feel like that.

Jordan, her boyfriend. She always found it silly, sometimes, when they were together and she was moaning her own name. Sometimes she'd exaggerate the moans, wanting to hear how pretty she could make her name sound—it became a hobby she tried to perfect rather than an involuntary sound she made. Any other time though, she called him Jay.

He didn't moan her name, not the way he used to, just kind of grunted and called her 'babe', and sometimes 'slut' when he was feeling particular. It didn't feel all that great anymore, didn't make Jordan feel all that sexy. So she began to entertain herself with her moans.

A small part of her hoped that Jay would shove his face into the crook of the neck, bury himself so deep in her that she'd cry, and whimper her name in her ear. Anything to make her feel pretty again.

But Jay waltzed in with a black eye and was set in his bad mood.

He didn't even look twice at her when he walked in. Just walked up to her fridge, ranting about some dude at the gym he fought at.

This was a part of the routine. except this time, the guy quit and so now he couldn't prove that he's better than him. 'Mad Dog', which she thought was a funny name, but probably not as bad as Playboy. She'd never admit that to Jay's face though—he'd hate her forever, and wouldn't make her feel pretty and wanted and loved.

So she folded her feet underneath her thighs, put on her best-interested face, and said all the things he wanted her to say:

"You're a much better fighter than Mad Dog."

"I bet he's just jealous of you, that's why he left."

"You can beat him in a fight, I know you can."

"That prank you pulled on his duffel bag was funny, he should've laughed at least."

"You're the reason he quit—he's scared of you."