“You smell like…”  his nose was pressed into the crease where her hip met thigh, and she bit her lip – hard – to stifle a giggle.  It tickled.
“I smell like yer mama’s perfume.”  Her voice was harsh with stolen cigarettes, but he looked up with awe and thought it beautiful.  “You didn’t!”  But he took a long whiff and there it was, that cloying scent of orchids and baby powder.  He looked over at the dresser where the bottle sat – not as dusty as it usually was.  The sheer insanity of the day made him want to….
“I did.  And y’know what else?”  Her hand edged down, lifting up her shirt for him to see.  And he didn’t know who would have done it, there was no way she looked eighteen.
“You didn’t”  he breathed, though the proof winked at him from her tummy-button, garish and gold and glittering.  She smiled at him, licking off a little of her bright pick lipstick.
“I did.  Can we do it now?”