Butterfly Love – A Halloween Story

WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

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Roger Winslow stopped his car at the massive iron gates and stood fumbling with a ring of keys, searching for the one that would give them entrance. His secretary, Marcie, sat waiting patiently in the car.

Beyond the gates, the Wentworth mansion looked exactly like you would expect a mad scientist’s lair to look in a grainy 1950’s horror movie. Maybe that was because it had been built near the end of the nineteenth century when Neo-gothic was the IN style for the nouveau-riche. Or maybe it was because no one had lived there since Hector Wentworth had passed away and the lower two floors were securely boarded up. Or maybe it was just because tonight was Halloween and everything looked decrepit and spooky in the light of a full Halloween moon shining through a slightly cloudy sky.

“Which one did she use?” Roger muttered to himself aloud trying to remember from the last time he was here.

The house belonged to his wife, Julia. She had always made that very clear. Flowerhaven was the Wentworth family home. It was from here that the Wentworth’s Custom Perfumes empire had been launched. Hector Wentworth, her father, had been a modern day alchemist who could somehow brew up a perfect potion of olfactory bliss for any person on earth… any person, that is, who could afford his very steep prices. He quickly restored the family fortunes. And as he grew older, he taught his daughter, Julia, his secrets. She very carefully kept those secrets. Since her father’s death, she– and she alone– prepared the yearly batches of Wentworth olfactory magic.

The perfumes were truly magical. There was only one batch created each year, but you never had to worry about someone else wearing your scent. A Wentworth’s Custom Perfume was magically adaptive. When you sprayed a short burst of mist behind your ear from the tiny bottle, you didn’t need to spray it anywhere else. The perfume scent would travel throughout your body. And as it traveled, the scent changed slightly. The result was that each scent was unique to the person using it and no two scents ever quite had the same exact exquisite bouquet.

More than that, the scent changed subtly depending on the mood or whim of the person wearing it. If a woman wanted to seduce a man, a Wentworth Custom Perfume would get the job done. If that same woman– or a man… yes, the perfume was used by men– wanted to project power and authority in a meeting, then the Wentworth’s Custom Perfume became a scent for that, too.

But there was an even more magical part. If you wanted to “release your inner self,” the perfume could also do that for you.