On the Trail of Her Scent

Like freshly cut grass on a golf course or the juicy aroma of newly picked strawberries, the scent of “her” wafting lazily up the office stairwell was so intoxicating. A sensual whisper of perfume encircled me as I neared the third floor of the four flights back to my office. It wasn't an overbearing scent, but oh, the sensation sparked a surge of euphoria and a burning desire to seek its owner. She had exquisite taste, no doubt about it. It was perhaps an expensive fragrance, but she knew just how much to apply without overwhelming others around her. I know emphatically that she did not understand the fervent impact that her perfume had upon me.

This was the third time in the past week I had sensed her presence within the stairwell, but I hadn’t been able to find her. That is when I heard a door close right above me. I picked up the pace, taking two steps at a time, but I didn’t want to appear like a crazed person, so I cut back to one step at a faster pace. I saw the fading light from the door closing within my sight. I quickly entered the door and looked left, then right. No one but the maintenance man walking slowly down the hall. 

The excitement of the hunt electrified me almost daily. Sure, there were many fine perfumes out there, but none like hers. Then one day it happened. I headed to the first floor for a quick meeting, and I sensed she was on the set of stairs just below me. It had to be her; it heightened my senses, my arousal feverish. I quickened my steps and upon passing the next landing; I saw below me a very attractive woman with a dark red blouse and black slacks, taking each step cautiously as she held the railing with one hand and a large folder in the other. We were the only people on the stairs at that point, and her scent continued to draw me in and pique my curiosity. She exited on the second floor. I was sure I had some reason to stop on that floor. Didn't I?

I was aware of the research on pheromones, those odorless hormones that when excreted attract members of the same species–insects, mammals, even plants–for reproduction. The evidence on humans is still in question. And yes, some perfumes contain them. Did that explain my compulsion to follow my nostrils up and down the stairs? Who knows? I didn’t. Also, I didn’t care. I only knew I had to find this woman and put a face to the aroma.

Now walking in the same hallway as she and about fifteen feet behind, I panicked; what if she turned and questioned why I was following her so closely? I searched the signs on office doors as if I were looking for a particular business or anything familiar. Now, I don’t always believe in fate, but I learned things happen for a reason. And something was about to occur that would affect both our futures. Suddenly, the large file folder fell from her hand and its contents spewed everywhere. No diversion was needed now; I pressed ahead quickly and helped her retrieve the papers.

She appeared embarrassed at having dropped the folder that held probably fifty pages. We might have talked some while scooping up the mess, but I couldn’t tell you at that point what she had said or what I said to her. She thanked me many times, said that she was concerned about her upcoming meeting and just absent-mindedly dropped the folder. She also offered that maybe she had stumbled or tripped on something; she wasn’t sure.

I cared little about her reasons. Like a game of chess, I thought, “Check!” Success was imminent. I had captured the queen, or more like met the queen!

Small talk continued for a minute or two longer. She surprised me by saying that she had seen me often at the Starbucks next door and in our building’s lobby. “Where did I work?” she asked. I quickly pulled a business card from my shirt pocket. She seemed to know the firm, and I swear I saw a mischievous smile as she skimmed the information.

Gabrielle glanced at her watch and groaned quietly; she was now late for a meeting. She excused herself and thanked me, saying my name.

After a few steps, she glanced over her left shoulder and said, “Oh, how rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself, sorry. I’m Gabrielle.”

“Tyler, I am very glad to meet you, finally.” Oh, god, did I just say that? How trite and unoriginal. She smiled innocently, having known his name all along.

As she walked away, she asked if I could join her for coffee the next morning. Eight o’clock work? Hell, yes, I was available. Whatever was on my calendar was about to be delayed. I didn’t care; this was the most important meeting I had hoped for a while now. All the previous times I had thought I might find her were swirling inside my head. What an amazing meeting in the hall when she dropped her papers!

I thought about the coffee meeting we had set for the next morning; I wondered if I should come clean and confess why I was in the hallway. Would she think I was a creeper? Would she consider me shallow-minded? Who goes around searching for a woman because of a perfume scent? Would she think I had nothing better to do with my life?

I hadn’t acted silly or immature, or so I thought; I had one of those feelings that started deep inside of me, and I knew there was a reason for what had happened. We just had to acknowledge those things and appreciate them when the outcome turned in our favor.  

Two months had elapsed since the “unfortunate” paper incident in the hallway, and we had met for coffee most every morning, depending on our work schedules. My job required that I travel occasionally, and Gabrielle stayed busy leading sales meetings and making presentations in the city to prospective clients.  

What began as an impromptu introduction turned into coffee dates and then spending evenings together after work. We alternated preparing dinners; she was a connoisseur of Italian dishes and I showed off my expertise in delivering mouth watering steaks from the grill. She and I alternated spending weekends at our respective condos and my cottage on the Cape.  

What was that fragrance that brought us together? The brand name was predictably corny: "Charmingly Innocent." We laughed about it often. Recently, she made a small confession: she was aware I was in the hall behind her and that the dropped folder wasn’t an accident. She, too, believed that things occurred for a reason, not because of fate. She had seen me in the lobby and coffee shop often and had the same desire to meet me. She didn’t know if and how it played out either, if at all.

There was a reason that I was in that stairwell that day, the same reason she was on the stairs ahead of me. I followed the scent. Her scent began a wonderful romance!