The Lingering Scent of Jasmine

Another dull trip to the grocery store was interrupted on the way home by an alert from my car informing me that it was time to have the oil changed. As luck would have it there was a small sales and service shop that specialized in the type of car I drive less than a mile from my house. I pulled in to the lot and parked in front of the double glass doors and went inside.

I was greeted by a young woman who asked me what she could help me with. I explained that my car had decided that it needed fresh oil and asked her if it could be done today.

"The schedule's full for today but it's best to come first thing in the morning if you don't like waiting. We open at eight AM if you'd like to come back tomorrow."

"I could do that."

"Very well, I'll go ahead and get your information now so everything will be in order for you in the morning."

She turned to a computer on the counter and entered all the information about me and my car. While she was doing this I got the chance to study her.

She was tallish, about five-eight, and appeared to be in her mid twenties though I was not a good judge of women's ages. She gave an initial impression of being rather plain. Her brown hair was almost shoulder length and she wore it naturally as though she had only washed and brushed it herself. She wore very little make-up, which surprised me since the skin on her upper cheeks had a very slight but noticeable roughness to it. Most women would have covered it but she seemed quite comfortable allowing this minor flaw to show. Her lips, devoid of lipstick, seemed a little thin since their color blended in with the surrounding skin. One indulgence she did allow herself was beautifully manicured fingernails.

She spoke clearly and at a pace that was refreshingly slow enough that I could both hear and understand what she was saying. I have a difficult time understanding young people these days and had put it down to getting older but I had no trouble hearing her even though she was not making an effort to speak loudly. Her accent was disarmingly charming. Hers was the quintessential voice of a genuine southern belle. The more she said, the more infatuated I became with her. Each time she looked up from the computer to ask me for another piece of information, she made eye contact with me and after the third time she did this I saw the look in her eyes change as she quite accurately assessed what my eyes were saying to her.

When I saw how her demeanor changed it really surprised me. I'm fifty-two years old and she had to be about half my age. But that didn't stop her from doing what no other women in the world can do as well as a real southern belle. She very subtly eased into flirtation mode. Nobody can flirt like southern girls and it is one of the great joys of life to have one do it to you. The complex combinations of voice inflection, eye movements, smiles, gestures and head tilts is as complicated as those of a Japanese Geisha but she did it so effortlessly that you would hardly notice just how intricate it is.

When she finished entering my data into the computer she looked at me and gave me a smile that could melt lead and said, "Now if you would be so kind as to accompany me to your vehicle I need to get the VIN and the mileage." At this point I would have accompanied her practically anywhere and given her anything she wanted.

She walked around the counter and led me to the door, waiting for me to open it for her. She didn't miss a trick. I mean how many young women even want you to open a door for them let alone expect it. This was one more component of her flirting and a perfect excuse to convey to me that she required her gentlemen suitors to know their manners and treat her like the young lady she had obviously been raised to be. The finishing touch was the light placement of her hand on my arm as she walked through the door to communicate that touching was now an acceptable aspect of our budding relationship.

As she passed through the door I noticed her dress. It was as old fashioned as a parlor, and just as elegant. Most people would have thought it had been purchased in a thrift shop, a relic of a time long ago. I guessed it might have belonged to her grandmother. Expensive high-heeled shoes adorned her dainty feet. She wore a lace shawl over her antique gown despite it being a warm day and as she passed by me, the most delightful fragrance filled my senses. It was the aroma of confederate jasmine.

She stopped beside the door to my car and said, "I'll need your key."

"Allow me." I said as I pushed the button that unlocked the driver's side door and reached to open it for her. She leaned in, placing her knee gently on the seat so she could reach the control on the dashboard that displayed the mileage. This movement exposed her leg exactly as much as if she had used a laser beam to measure the precise amount of skin a southern lady could show in order to send a signal without it being misinterpreted. Damn she was good.

She stood and turned to me and said, "That should be all I need for now." I accompanied her back inside the shop making sure to open and hold the door for her. She entered the data into the computer. "Thank you for coming in today Mr. Loomis. I'll see you in the morning and have a freshly brewed pot of coffee waiting for you."

"Please, call me Rick."

"And you may call me Sam. Samantha Hightower. Until tomorrow then Rick."

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance Sam. Would that be Miss or Mrs. Hightower?"

"Miss Hightower."

"I'll see you at eight sharp."

As I drove home I wondered just what the hell I was doing flirting with a young woman half my age. I was being a foolish old man to even think anything could come of it. But the other half of my brain said, 'what's the harm in being nice. Southern women enjoy flirting more than any other activity with the exception of sex.' It's just a game, a pleasant playful way to interact and take a break from being so formal and brusque.

I awoke at seven the next morning without the aid of the alarm I had set. I had slept better than I had in months and wondered if it were the prospect of seeing Sam again that had me feeling like this. I was actually feeling things I hadn't felt since my divorce ten years ago. I had become a bit too reclusive in that time and the few dates I had were more for companionship than romance. None of the women I had met excited me like Sam did. I couldn't wait to see her again.

I took a book with me that I'd been trying to finish for over a month in case she wasn't there or was too busy to talk to me. When I arrived at the shop Sam was the only one there.

"Good morning Rick. If you'll just drive your car around to the third stall the technician will get started right away."

I moved the car from the front to the back and pulled up to the entrance to the bay. I put the window down and left the key in and got out and returned to the office area. When I arrived, Sam had a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for me. It was a real coffee cup not a Styrofoam one. I sat in a tall chair at a round table and took a sip of the coffee. "This is delicious Sam, thank you."

"We like to treat all our customers well here." Her eyes blinked slowly and deliberately before adding, "Some more than others." She walked over to the table and sat in the chair next to mine. "So Rick, how did you decide to have your oil changed at this particular shop?"

"I just moved to this little town a few months ago. I had been living in the large two-story house my ex-wife and I bought a long time ago. I finally decided it was too big and too close to the big city. I'm semi-retired so I don't have to go to work in an office anymore. My grandparents came from this part of the country so I explored this area and found an ideal house in a nice community that takes care of everything for me. I don't need to be that close to shops since I don't buy a lot of stuff except for groceries and a couple of medications."

"Do you like living here?"

"Yes, I do." I looked into her eyes and said, "I like it more and more all the time."

Her smile lit up her face. "My folks came from Mississippi. I was born and raised in Tupelo. They moved here to be closer to my brother and me while we went to the local college here. When we both had graduated he moved to North Carolina to work but I decided to work in the business instead of moving away to get a job. My father and my grandmother are dead now so it's just me, my mother and my grandfather that run the shop."

"Do you all live together?"

"We did while I was going to school but after I started working here I wanted my own place so my grandfather bought me a good size piece of property and found somebody to build me exactly the house I always wanted. It's even further out in the country than your place. It has a wide porch that runs all the way around it and I've put potted plants and hanging baskets of flowers and ferns everywhere."

"It sounds lovely. I'd like to see it sometime."

"Southern hospitality requires me to invite you for dinner to welcome you to our little town. When would you like to come?"

"What day would be easiest for you? I don't want you to have to work all day and come home to fix me dinner."

"That's very kind of you Rick. I don't work on the weekend. Saturday or Sunday would be perfect. Friday is my birthday and my mom and granddad are taking me out for a little party."

"Happy birthday. May I ask how old you will be?

"I'll be twenty-eight; just two years left before the dreaded thirty."

"Trust me, thirty is nothing compared to fifty. I think Saturday would be a good day for me to come to dinner. Thank you for inviting me."

"Saturday it is then. I'll send you directions in a text. You do text don't you?"

"I'm well versed in the use of computers and smart phones. Yes, I text. I don't tweet though."

She returned to the counter and answered the phone when it rang and printed invoices and work orders for the day's activities. I watched her the entire time as she took care of things smoothly and efficiently. She was dressed a little more modernly today in a knee length skirt and a white blouse with a beautiful silk scarf around her neck. She had on a little make-up but not enough to be obvious. A different pair of high-heels was on her feet. When she sat at the table with me I noticed that she was not wearing hose but she did have the same jasmine perfume on. She knew exactly how much to put on for me to notice without being overdone. The more I watched her the more I admired her. She seemed very calm and comfortable in her actions.

A very pretty woman came into the office from the back of the shop and Sam immediately brought her over to the table and introduced her.

"Mom, this is a new customer. His name is Rick Loomis. Mr. Loomis, this is my mother Alexandria."

Her mother was a little shorter than Sam but was in great shape and dressed as nicely as Sam. She held out her hand for me to shake and said, "I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Loomis, thank you for your patronage."

"Please, call me Rick. I'm very happy to meet you too."

"You can call me Alex. I'm sure Sam is seeing to your needs but if there is anything I can do for you please don't hesitate to ask."

"I'm being very well looked after Alex. Thank you."

I could see where Sam got her graciousness from if not her looks. Alex was as much a southern lady as her daughter and had instilled the tradition of gentility in her that she so obviously possessed. Alex was much closer to my age and for a fleeting moment I thought I maybe should have met her first. But despite the external beauty, I didn't get the same vibes from Alex that I did from Sam. She seemed less outgoing than her daughter and made no attempt to be flirtatious.

A few minutes after her mother left to return to the shop an older man came into the office from the back.

"Oh, granddaddy, I want you to meet a new customer." She walked him over to the table and said, "Rick Loomis this is my grandfather Leonard Hightower, he owns the shop."

I shook his hand and had a pleasant conversation with him for about five minutes before he left to return to the shop.

"Sam, your grandfather is a genuine southern gentleman. I could tell you're the light of his life just by the way he looks at you."

"He's a wonderful man Rick. I'm blessed to have him in my life. He's very special."

"So is his granddaughter."

Her smile was all the thanks I needed for that compliment.

When the service tech brought my key to the office I walked over to the counter and Sam ran my credit card and stapled the receipt to my copy of the invoice and handed it to me. "May I have your phone for a moment Rick?" I reached in my pocket and handed it to her. She held it up and took a selfie then put her personal phone number in my contacts and attached the picture she had just taken. She also included the phone number of the shop. Then she handed it back to me.

"Now that we have each others numbers, I'll text you the directions to my house. If something does come up where you can't come for dinner on Saturday you'll know how to get in touch with me. Have a lovely day and I hope to see you Saturday around Six thirty."

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away. Thank you Sam. I've never had a better experience at a car service shop. See you Saturday."

As soon as I got back to the house I called a florist and ordered some flowers to be sent to the shop on Friday. I asked for an arrangement that could be transplanted to a pot since she had told me she liked to have plants at her house. They sent me pictures of some of the choices and I picked an especially colorful one. I had them put 'Happy Birthday, Rick' on the card.

The next three days passed all too slowly as I anticipated going to her house for dinner. Shortly before noon on Friday my phone rang and her picture filled the display. I answered her call and immediately heard, "Oh Rick the flowers are beautiful. I haven't had a man send me flowers since my prom. It was so sweet of you to send them."

"It was my privilege to have somebody to send flowers to and I hope you're having a very nice birthday."

"You've made my birthday extra special and I can't wait to see you. I'm going to make you something from one of my grandmother's recipes. Thank you so much Rick, I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day I did a little house cleaning and just before five o'clock I got a text from Sam with the directions to her house. I showered and shaved and put on a nice pair of slacks and a short sleeved button-up shirt. The text message said it would take about twenty minutes to get to her house so I left my house at six. I was glad she sent me directions because she wasn't kidding about being out in the country. I doubt that the GPS would have been of much use in finding her house.

After driving through a forest down a little one-lane road for five minutes I finally saw some iron gates on the left side of the road and pulled up to them. Her instructions said to call her when I was at the gates. When she answered I told her I was at the gates and they began to swing open. I drove about a hundred yards to her house, which was in a clearing in the woods. Her yard was very large and beautifully landscaped.

I parked beneath something you don't see very much on houses anymore: a porte cochere. It spanned about forty feet of the front of the house and had columns holding it up. There were large pots with flowering plants between the columns that were next to the front yard. Two similar pots were on either side of the steps that led up to the wrap-around porch and the front doors. The doors were beautiful with glass insets in the top half that had cranes etched into them. As soon as I stepped on the porch, the doors opened and I saw her standing there in the entranceway.

She was wearing another one of those old-fashioned dresses that looked comfortable, practical, tailored and elegant all at the same time. The color was ivory and looked to be made of cotton. The top was held up by wide straps that went over her shoulders and the bodice was low enough to show the top of her breasts. The material was sheer enough to convey the absence of a bra. The dress was tighter around her waist and flared a little as it reached almost to her ankles. Another pair of expensive high-heels was on her feet. Her hair was styled in ringlets on either side and a small blue velvet choker encircled her neck fastened in the back by a small gold clasp. She was an absolute vision of southern femininity.

I was completely awestruck by the sight of her even before the scent of jasmine wafted softly across my face. Before I could recover my senses enough to speak she moved toward me and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. This was no welcome kiss or a thank you kiss for the flowers. No, this was a toe curling, full contact, lover's kiss. She pulled back and fixed those sparkling eyes on me and said, "I've wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you. Please come in."

"That was some welcome. I haven't been kissed like that since my honeymoon. You look gorgeous Sam, absolutely amazing."

"Thank you Rick. I'm so happy you're here."

"That makes two of us." I had completely forgotten that I had a bottle of Champagne in my hand. "This needs to go in the refrigerator."

"Come along with me and we'll start our tour of the house in the kitchen. She put her arm around mine and pressed the side of her breast against it as she began to walk us to the kitchen. I marveled at how natural that movement was. She seemed to have this innate ability to be sexy and demure at the same time. She did nothing overt but deliberately suggested lasciviousness with every act.

We walked through a large living room furnished the way a southern home would have been in the nineteenth century. An elegant but understated crystal chandelier hung from a chain in the middle of the room. Old-fashioned lamps with large frosted glass globes sat on end tables next to a sofa and four comfortable chairs. A beautiful oriental rug covered the center of the wooden floor. Ornate mirrors hung above credenzas placed against the walls. Ivory colored drapes that looked as if they had been crocheted hung to the side of each window.

The kitchen was an inspired combination of old and new. The architecture and the cabinetry were right out of the nineteen-thirties but only in appearance. All the tile and woodwork was high quality in both composition and workmanship. The appliances were professional grade made to look like they were fifty years old. I could almost see my grandmother baking in a kitchen like this. I'm sure Sam was inspired by her own grandmother to create this cozy environment.

There was a parlor on the left corner at the front of the house with French doors that opened to the wrap-around porch. A Georgian style fireplace was on the side wall with a portrait hanging above the mantle. It was a picture of Alex, Sam's mother. The room was formal yet comfortable. A master bedroom with a luxurious bathroom took up the right corner of the downstairs floor in the back. It too had a fireplace and French doors opening to the porch. A flat screen TV hung above the fireplace.

Upstairs were three more bedrooms. Another master with its own bathroom and two smaller but still spacious rooms that shared an opulent bathroom. The entire house was thoroughly modern in construction including an extremely sophisticated security system with high definition cameras and recorders. The cameras were placed so every room could be seen as well as all over the property outside.

The back yard was the size of a football field and looked like it had been moved here from the golf course where the Masters tournament is played. Azaleas, Camellias, Dogwood trees, Magnolias, Japanese maples, weeping willow and cherry trees were placed so that the entire yard looked like a garden. There were even a few peach trees on one side close to the house so you could pick your own peaches when they were in season. Several small fountains with curved cement benches near them were strategically placed so you could enjoy just sitting in this enchanted place.