An Englishman Abroad - Chapter Fourteen
We hit the candle shop first. Big, long, thick, pure wax as per the list. Heavy things. Good job she won’t be throwing these at me…hopefully, Let Buffy do the bargaining. She had fun doing it yesterday, and anything that'll take her mind off the ritual tonight cannot be bad. She's got quicker at the bargaining game, and they were cheaper than the souvies yesterday so it only took an hour.
Off past some lovely scented food stalls. Can tell Buffy is starving but she barely seems to notice. Must have got used to it. Wish I'd called Giles in, might have saved a lot of pain -to all of us.
Walked past stalls selling more leather poufs than anyone in their right mind could possibly imagine. And I've seen plenty of the other sort. Seriously tempted to buy one as a belated hotel warming present. I suggest it. "Pink with gold embossing or powder blue and gold?" She smacks my arm, but not hard and she does giggle. So it was totally worth it.
Bought the pink one. Had to be done. Not Good here. Temptation as Oscar put it…I can resist anything but. Besides, cheerleader and the poof's faces should be a picture.
Managed, with great difficulty to get her to avoid the leather shops. Mostly luggage, purses and handbags anyway, but some jackets and I know my girl and leather. No way would we be out by the next millennium, let alone tonight.
Made it to the cloth part of the souk. Enough embroidered, sequin covered, brightly clashing coloured cloth to have kept poor Tara in clothes for decades. Manage to convince Buffy she really doesn't want a kaftan even if they are coming back into fashion. Particularly a blue one with sequins. Lived through the seventies once. Never again…punk apart.
We sat down in the cloth shop and have to refuse the mint tea. That's gonna cost us in the bargaining front. It does …one nil down after 60 seconds. Buying 30 yards of white linen took about an hour, even with a shopping slayer on top form, and we still paid more than we should have as a penalty for being rude gits in refusing the tea. But I made the bugger cut it down to the right size.
***
That left the perfume shop.
We headed down past the jewellery shops. Good job we already got Nibblet's prezzie as the agony of choice would have been just too much. Jewellery sold by the weight too, so much cheaper than in the States. Things were different I'd love to take her in there and get a pair of rings. Not yet though. But someday, maybe.
We went into the dark little shop. The large bottles of perfume filled the walls. Reminded me of the old chemists shops you got when I was Buffy's age. Could buy anything in 'em. Opium, cocaine, arsenic all sorts. All legal. Things change.
We take a seat, and I tell the shopkeeper we've been ill so can't drink anything and please not to be offended. And that my lady would like some perfumed oil.
He Salam's and so do I. When in Rome and all that. Explain we don't know what we want, but we'll know it when we smell it. He brings over a selection of oils scented to resemble the expensive stuff they spray at you in department stores. You try going to Willie's after that…not fun.
The perfumes are in big bottles with long glass dippers. I start with the first. Buffy holds out her forearm. In the Giles approved wardrobe choice du jour it’s a peasant blouse covering her shoulders and upper arms, but with some cute embroidery.
I touch her only with the glass droppers - one drop of perfume at a time. Two inches of skin with different western perfume copies and we aren't getting anywhere. But she smells bloody fantastic. But then she usually does, Doublemeat Dogburgers not withstanding,
So we hit the classics. Vanilla drops on the crease of her elbow. Not right. Rose on the delicate veins of her tiny right wrist…still nope. Lavender on a faint scar…not even close. Cold glass and gardenias on that sensitive point on her right arm…almost.
Her breathing is speeding up and so's her heart rate. Mine would if it could.
Musks on the right outer arm. I was right that time. Musk is aggravating, more ways than one too, for both of us. But not right. Not for this anyway.
Hot, hot little shop, cold glass and the scent. Rupert Giles you bastard. This is hard. I take another flower oil, trace it on her sunny skin. Mine's getting a bit closer to her shade, but I still look ashen next to her born tan.
The scents of all the different oils is blending together in the heat and her sweat. Not much skin free for more on either arm by now. I try the lily. I drip one drop of oil on the pulse point of her left hand.
Bingo. The nose has it. She looks at me. We both know. We both know so much.
I buy a full bottle. As she walks outside I get another smaller bottle. For me, and for her…if she'll take it. For later.