“Does this smell OK to you?”, I asked the woman behind the perfume counter at Harrods. I wanted an unbiased opinion, but as there were no one else, she would have to suffice.

“Oh, but of course, M’am. The scent is a perfect match for you. If you’d like, please, go over to the mens’ counter and get his opinion” she said, with a knowing smile.

I walked over to the men’s counter. My heart patted out a stattaco beat as I walked. Goodness, he was handsome….

“Excuse me, sir” I laid my hand on his shoulder

“Yes, how may help you miss?” I thought he must be able to hear my heart through my silk blouse. His accent. Lordy, his accent wiped the purpose of my approaching him clear out of my mind. I am a sucker for clipped, British accents. He hadn’t even turned to look at me and I was already imagining us in the hotel across the street

“I hate to bother you, but could you tell me whether this scent is, um, ‘desirable’?”

He turned to look at me, leaned in and smiled.

Pheremones