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Esprit Fall 2005 Home
Cover Photo
Awards
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Acknowledgements
Submission Information
9/11
Anna Perenna
Untitled I
Autumn
Companion Plantings
Insomnia
Jenna's Wish
My Resubmission
Polo Lifestyle
El Murro
Pupil
Solemn Night
The Poem
We Are the Reflection
Sex Smells
Who is Left?
Bundle of Oats
De manera que
San Miniato al Monte
Spin the Bottle
Front Cover:
Eat Strawberries
Inside Front Cover:
Gu Shi, "Xin Shi": No Words
Inside Back Cover:
Untitled
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| | Sex Smells
The Berrier Prose Award
Fall 2005
Steve Clark
"Hey, Arthur, check this out," Mary says, focused on
an opened newspaper from a stool at the kitchen counter in
her studio apartment. She sports a pink polo shirt with only
the bottom of the three buttons at the top of the
shirt closed,
along with a pair of jeans. "The Inquirer today has this study
that links armpit smell to sexuality. It says that straight men
and women respond most negatively to gay male body odor,
but gay men were more neutral toward the smell."
"That's ridiculous," Arthur responds from Mary's
white leather love seat, the only piece of living room furniture
in the apartment. "That doesn't prove anything."
"Maybe that's why you can't pick up girls, Arthur.
Because of your gay B.O."
"Very funny."
"Which reminds me, I want you to smell this candle I
lit last night." She picks up a candle, the red wax considerably
waned inside its small glass container. Small bits of semi-burnt
wax sit next to the wick like the cooling fragments of
molten
rock surrounding a volcano. A label adorning the container
reads "Paramour" in gold capital letters in front of a picture of
a knight wielding a sword.
"I was sitting here last night, watching TV, and I
remembered that Lisa had bought me this
as a small gift for
moving into my first apartment. I lit it, and for a few minutes I
just. . .I don't know. I couldn't concentrate. It was orgasmic."
"And it's my sex life that's sad?"
"Shut up and just smell this, please."
Arthur sighs, stands up, and stretches in his black tank
top and blue mesh shorts.
"Black and blue should only be seen in bruises, Arthur.
Chalk that up
as another reason you can't get a date."
"His self-confidence was really developing until his
best friend stunted it with her immense knowledge of Cosmo.
It's a wonder she has the time to dedicate to this literary pur-
suit considering the numerous hours she
spends each day in
bed eating Atkins-friendly chocolate and watching re-runs of
Passions."
"You are just hilarious," Mary responds, removing the
glass lid on the candle and placing her nose just inside the
container. She inhales deeply, lifting her
chest out. "Delicious,"
she says, exhaling.
Arthur takes hold of the glass container and studies it.
"Oh, this is interesting too," Mary says, flipping her
shoulder-length blond hair
behind her. "The same scientists
did a study before this one where they discovered, listen to
this, quote, 'the genuine male armpit extract markedly elevated
moods and certain fertility-related hormones for most of the
women,' end quote."
Arthur
lifts the candle to his nose, inhales.
"Alright, I want to change before we watch this movie,
Arthur. I know it's a chick flick, but I think you're gonna like
it." Mary walks over to the far corner of the studio where her
bed and closet and the
only window in the apartment are
located. Arthur exhales. She closes a purple curtain that runs
across that corner of the room. She kicks off her sandals and,
excepting for her feet, all Arthur can see is her silhouette sliding
across the curtain.
Arthur looks down at the candle for a moment, and
then toward the curtain. He looks down at the candle a second
time, and again back toward the curtain. Dipping his head
below his arm, he hurriedly sniffs several times, like a confused
dog. His eyebrows lift slightly; he begins digging aggressively
into
the glass container with his right index and middle fingers,
scooping out a small but substantial amount of wax. He
quickly removes his right hand from the container and lifts up
his left arm as he begins to fiercely rub the wax under his arm.
He places the lid back on the bottle, scurries to the right side
of the
loveseat, and exhales.
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