Something I started for a mslexia competition but never finished.

There always has been and always will be that particular smell. The smell of cigarette smoke through rain. That smell to others may be a turn off or seen as disgusting, but to me that certain smell has a meaning; a memory behind it. It brings back that edge of danger that rips through me, teasing and tempting me. How that smell brings back those memories. These utmost significant memories, frozen in time. It’s somehow hard to remember but so difficult to let go of.  But when I smell that particular smell. I’m sat back in that moment watching in on my previous self.

He wasn't my first love or my first lover. But there was something importannt about him, something that drew me towards him. I find it hard to grasp a memory of his face or what he looked like. But to me, it wasn't that important. He was just a boy of 17. He was just the same as any 17 year old boy except there was a knowledge in him, something burning. I could feel it. I ask now that you do not judge and for reasons that I wish not to disclose I will not give my age. I am not a bad person but as you all know a lady never tells.

I loved the boy. It was a brilliant affair. It was forbidden and he was my Lolita. When our lips touched his scents would entice me and his taste would excite me. He fascinated me. I would sit and watch him, his movements, his facial expressions. We would share these secret looks between us which would cause everything around me to blur. It would all become unimportant, just objects and surroundings. There was a secret between us. There was this thing, it was different, so difficult to explain. We would spend blissful evenings together whilst his mother waited for him at home and whilst my husband sat at his desk at work. It was dangerous and wrong. Which made it right.