13-02-2026, 11:22 PM
Mr. Roy twisted the heavy brass key in the lock. With a groan that sounded almost like a sigh of relief, the massive teakwood doors swung open.
Darkness spilled out into the afternoon light, cool and solid.
Sumit stepped in first, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "Wow! Look at the height of the ceiling! Need to change the wiring, but the structure is solid."
Sohini lingered at the threshold. She took a step inside, and instantly, the world outside—the birds, the wind, the sun—ceased to exist.
And then, it hit her.
The smell.
It wasn't the smell of dust or decay she expected from a closed house. It was heavy, sweet, and suffocatingly masculine. It smelled of wet earth, old leather, and crushed night-blooming jasmine (Raat-er Rani). It was the scent of a man who had just left the room—strong, musky, and warm.
Her head spun. A wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to grab the doorframe for support. Her knees felt weak, watery.
It wasn't a repulsive smell; it was intoxicating. It made her heart beat faster, a rhythmic thumping in her ears that drowned out Sumit’s voice.
"Sohini? You okay?" Sumit asked, his voice sounding distant, like he was underwater.
Sohini blinked, trying to clear the fog in her brain. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath, inhaling that forbidden scent deep into her lungs.
"I... I’m fine," she whispered. "Just a bit dizzy from the heat."
But she knew it wasn't the heat. The house was cold.
She looked at the grand staircase spiraling up into the shadows. The smell was stronger there. It was inviting her. Beckoning her upstairs to the master bedroom.
She felt a strange, heavy heat pooling in her lower belly—a reaction she hadn't felt in years. Fear mixed with a sudden, shameful arousal. Why was this dead house making her feel so... alive?
Darkness spilled out into the afternoon light, cool and solid.
Sumit stepped in first, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "Wow! Look at the height of the ceiling! Need to change the wiring, but the structure is solid."
Sohini lingered at the threshold. She took a step inside, and instantly, the world outside—the birds, the wind, the sun—ceased to exist.
And then, it hit her.
The smell.
It wasn't the smell of dust or decay she expected from a closed house. It was heavy, sweet, and suffocatingly masculine. It smelled of wet earth, old leather, and crushed night-blooming jasmine (Raat-er Rani). It was the scent of a man who had just left the room—strong, musky, and warm.
Her head spun. A wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to grab the doorframe for support. Her knees felt weak, watery.
It wasn't a repulsive smell; it was intoxicating. It made her heart beat faster, a rhythmic thumping in her ears that drowned out Sumit’s voice.
"Sohini? You okay?" Sumit asked, his voice sounding distant, like he was underwater.
Sohini blinked, trying to clear the fog in her brain. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath, inhaling that forbidden scent deep into her lungs.
"I... I’m fine," she whispered. "Just a bit dizzy from the heat."
But she knew it wasn't the heat. The house was cold.
She looked at the grand staircase spiraling up into the shadows. The smell was stronger there. It was inviting her. Beckoning her upstairs to the master bedroom.
She felt a strange, heavy heat pooling in her lower belly—a reaction she hadn't felt in years. Fear mixed with a sudden, shameful arousal. Why was this dead house making her feel so... alive?
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