Forum Story about Pheromones (limit 5 sentences per post)

[TheAttractor]

The woman continued,

rambling in the process: "Well, he convinced me to get into his truck-looking vehicle, it smelled like sandalwood

inside, so good, you know. He started telling me about this club called Pharaoh Moan, he said 'it's filled with

aromas that makes you feel divine'; maybe it's got contraptions that pump scents into the air. Then he put his

arm around me, and pressed me against him, so my nose rested against his neck, then I felt a convulsion of some

sort, and everything went black, and next thing I knew, I'm here talking to you guys." "Wow!", Ignacio answered,

he was speechless. Then he asked Tom to keep an eye on the woman, and ran outside to speak to Joey, who heard about

Pharaoh Moan from other people while undergoing drug rehabilitation.

[idesign]

Freshly stitched and very

uncomfortable, Joey made a beeline to club Pharaoh Moan the very day he was released from treatment with the worst

grade ever recorded at that particular facility. The fact that he narrowly escaped sexual harassment charges while

a resident there can probably be attributed to his well connected family who, despite their judicial pull, were

unable to prevent Joey's olfactory closure. Indeed, according to one unnamed source, the presiding judge was heard

to say privately in chambers that he'd personally "sew that pervert's pecker to his belly button if I wasn't up

for re-election".

Joey had placed himself locally in a special class of individuals who, with good reason, were

best viewed from afar. Providence placed him at the bar of the Pharoah Moan club beside the secretive yet

gregarious crane owner/operator W.T.Fuch.

[idesign]

well storytellers?

[idesign]

After a half dozen tequila lime

freezes, along with breathing a steady atmosphere of Chikara being pumped from well placed atomizers, Joey hooted

like a deranged owl when he read his new friend's business card; "Need some Big Equipment? Call me, WTF."

On

the night of the accident he fleetingly made a mental connection as he was being hoisted into the air, just as

Ignacio fleetingly remembered the pair of Hello Kitty panties missing from his collection. Karl (spelled with a K)

was not making any connections at all but was damned determined to get to the bottom of this. Tom, ever the helpful

soul, came out of the house with brandy and a thermos of coffee.

[idesign]

Karl (spelled with a K)

untangled himself from Joey at the back of the BMW, thinking "I have no time for this", even though his private

entanglements with Joey he had found quite satisfactory. Tom poured him a brandy and asked "what's up with

Ignacio?". Karl (spelled with a K) looked over and observed Ignatio observing the woman's crotch at close range,

his face a resemblance to the "Soul's Awakening". Joey, observing Ignatio, then observing Karl observing Ignatio,

scurried to hide under the rear of the car just where the scratching noise was emanating.

[idesign]

"O what a tangled web we weave,

when first we practice to deceive" or, in Joey's case, outright theft. Poker night at Ignatio's was a special

treat for Joey, not for for the game or comraderie with similarly dysfunctional members of the community, but for

the long bathroom breaks during which he would sneak into the bedroom and rifle Ignatio's panty collection. The

"Hello Kitty" caper, weeks before, was not planned, but rather a reaction to a noise at the bedroom door after which

the panties made a beeline from Joey's nose to his pocket in under a second.

Later that night, in the mellow

glow of sublime afterburn, he had told a woman (who's name escaped him, like so many names) that he had bought them

for her in the hope that it would display his true feelings for her, which she could not quite process after

breathing half a dozen pheromones in half that many hours.

His hands around the tailpipe (of the BMW), Joey

pondered these things, and pondered the atomizer which he had installed in the woman's car which was making that

awful scratching sound, and was wondering how he would extricate himself from the impending fury which was sure to

follow.

[idesign]

If fate is the playground of the

gods, then Joey must certainly be one of their favorite toys. Joey was thinking this, though in not such

philosophical terms, as his thoughts usually ran along the lines of self preservation. Not only had he stolen

Ignatio's panties, but he'd given them to Tom's new girlfriend who, in fit of NPA induced wanton behavior, agreed

to a private game of ring toss after a particularly fun night at the PM club.

Tom, who until now was focused upon

making the strange evening more pleasant for everyone, had not yet observed the crime scene in any detail, or the

woman who's splayed legs were being manipulated by Ignatio in the hope that a definitive identification of her

panties could be made.

Karl (yes yes yes, K) began to fume, Joey wept as his fist had no effect on the atomizer,

and Tom, finally, began to absorb the unique qualities of the scene.