Clarice's Scenario, Episode Two

The second installment of Clarice's Scenario, the conclusion of The Tattoo, The Shirt, and The Scenario. Rated NC-17.

Disclaimer: As before, the characters of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, et. al. are the exclusive property of Thomas Harris. The whole of Clarice's Scenario takes place during the time of Hannibal.

The first time Clarice went into Baltimore to look around the now-defunct Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane, she made a stop at a New Age store in the heart of the city. "Hello, miss, may I help you?" a gentle, older female voice asked from the counter.

Hannibal still on her mind, Clarice turned to the middle-aged woman who ran the place. "Yes," she said in a slightly nervous tone. "Do you make homemade fragrances?"

"Only for special orders, hon," the woman replied. "Why do you ask?"

Clarice thought about shrugging it off, but didn't. "I...I want some cologne made for my boyfriend," she stammered. "I want it to smell like the cologne he got when we went to Italy last year, but I don't have a sample of it with me."

The woman was intrigued. "Italy?"

"Yes, it's not available in the U.S...."

"Hmm, I see. Can you describe it?"

Clarice gulped hard, trying to contain her Hannibal-induced arousal. "It's...it's a really clean, sweet, musky cologne. From what I can tell, besides the musk it's got some vanilla, amber, traces of sandalwood and leather, some bitter orange, and a little bit of vetiver...there's other stuff in it, too, but I can't quite remember what. But it smells sooooooo good..."

The woman smiled. "Sounds like you really love this guy," she said.

"I do," Clarice said truthfully, without mentioning Hannibal by name. "I love him very much."

The woman motioned Clarice to the back of the shop, where she mixed her fragrances. "I'll have to special order the leather, vetiver, musk and amber essences, but I have the sandalwood, bitter orange and vanilla. It'll be expensive..."

"That's perfectly all right," Clarice replied. "If you could, too, could you make some massage oil to go with it?"

"Sure, hon. Same scent?"

"Yes, please. I'll pay you now, if you want..."

The woman smiled again, shaking her head. "It'll take about a week to get it all together, so you can pay me when it's all made. No hurry."

"How much will it be?"

The woman took out her pocket calculator. "Since this is a special order, it'll be $20 for the massage oil, $55 for the cologne. Did you want a gift basket for it?"

"No, ma'am, that won't be necessary."

The woman figured in the tax. "In all, it'll come to $81.49. I didn't catch your name, Miss..."

"Starling. Clarice Starling, FBI." Clarice showed the woman her badge.

The woman wrote down Clarice's name, then smiled in recognition. "I thought that was who you were," she said. "Although you didn't ask for it, I'm gonna give you a discount. I don't like how that Paul Krendler's been trying to smear you all over the place---I think you're doing fantastic. Will $65.50 be okay?"

Clarice smiled, not entirely trusting the woman, but relieved that someone else hated Paul Krendler almost as much as she...not counting Hannibal, of course. "Great, thanks," she smiled as she started to leave. "I'll be back next week."

The week seemed to go by in a blur, but finally the cologne and oil were ready. Clarice paid the woman the $65.50---the woman had even thrown in an extra bottle of each, free of charge---and before leaving, Clarice opened each bottle.

The woman was a genius. She had recreated Hannibal's scent perfectly. "I have a stockbroker friend in D.C. who got an import bottle of the original cologne for Christmas," the woman now said. "It's called Vetivera di Amoro..."

Vetivera di Amoro, Clarice thought to herself, imprinting the name into her memory.

"I used some of his to go by while I fixed the cologne and the oils for you, Clarice. It's pretty easy to fix homegrown, for fuckin' expensive stuff," the woman then said. "It's supposed to be the most expensive mens' cologne in western Europe."

"I love it," Clarice smiled. "My boyfriend's outta town on business right now, so he'll be lookin' forward to it. Thanks again."

"Clarice, the pleasure was all mine."

As she drove back to the duplex, Clarice felt a satisfied smile creep up on her face. She'd hated to lie to the woman, but she just couldn't mention Hannibal. To do so would betray his trust, as well as her own.

Ardelia wasn't back from her meeting with Jack Crawford, so Clarice had ample time to wash the sweat and cunt juices from Hannibal's shirt. She washed it by hand, using a very mild soap, then ran it through the dryer until it was warm and dry. Then she took the shirt back to her bedroom, where she liberally sprinkled the recreation of his sexy Vetivera di Amoro on it. In case Ardelia had any questions, Clarice decided to tell her it was her new perfume.

Clarice then folded Hannibal's shirt, the scent once more fresh, and put it back in the box. She put one of the bottles of cologne and both bottles of oil back in the shopping bag, then hid everything in the top of her closet. The cologne she had opened would stay out.

Tonight, she would sprinkle some of it onto her sheets...where, once more, Hannibal would make love to her in her dreams.

Back in Italy, Hannibal was preparing for his day playing art curator. He decided on an ivory suit and dark blue tie, with shiny black loafers and dark blue dress socks, to wear. He gelled back his hair in its' normal style, then took his bottle of Vetivera di Amoro cologne spray from the dresser.

He sprayed the scent all over his body, even a little on his genitals. As he massaged it in, a warm flush began to sweep over him...the same feeling he'd had night after night, where Clarice had invaded his dreams. He looked at the portrait of her on his arm and thought about her blue-grey eyes, her syrupy Southern drawl, her sexy, athletic body...his thoughts drifted back to his dreams, back to his sweet Clarice...

He rubbed his right hand overhis chest and looked down. He had another erection. Not good for "Dr. Fell," he reasoned, but he couldn't help himself. He had to have some relief...as badly as he wanted to wait for her, he had to take care of this sweet torture.

"I'm sorry, Clarice," he whispered almost mournfully as he lay back down on his bed and began to masturbate, once again that it was Clarice's hand stroking his penis.

"Girl, did you find yourself another guy?" Ardelia asked when she got home, catching a whiff of the new cologne.

"Naw, I just bought a unisex musk at the New Age shop in Baltimore," Clarice fibbed. "Thought I'd give it a try."

Surprisingly, Ardelia bought it. "It'd still smell better if it were on a man," she teased. "Anyway, Krendler crashed my meeting with Mr. Crawford."

"That sonofabitch," Clarice grumbled. "Did he smart off like always?"

"Yeah, he still wants you fired. The good news is, Mr. Crawford cussed the living shit out of him---they were still going tooth and nail when I left!"

Clarice laughed so hard, she thought she was going to choke. "Aw, God! Krendler probably called me a 'common cornpone cunt' like usual. All I did was tell him to drag his ass back home to his wife!"

Now Ardelia was laughing. "Yeah, you did, didn't you?"

In Florence, the sweet throes of orgasm left Hannibal satisfied, if not a little sad. But thinking about Clarice had made it worthwhile...oh, God, how he wished she were with him!

He cleaned up again, then finally got dressed. As he walked to the museum, a most unlikely song popped into his head...it was a rock song, Turn the Page, by Bob Seger. One of Clarice's favorites.

"Here I am...on the road again," he softly sang. "Here I am...up on the stage...here I go, playin' the star again...here I am...turn the page..."

Singing this to himself, and humming the melody instead of humming his usual classical favorites, caused another smile to creep up on his face.

Clarice felt like she'd missed something in her last visit to Dr. Chilton's hospital. Maybe she hadn't looked around enough, maybe she hadn't spent enough time exploring Hannibal's former cell...it was her day off, but she had to go back.

Ardelia had spent the night at Mark's again, and wasn't home yet, so she decided to leave her a note.

Ardelia,

If you find this before I get back, I've gone to do a little shopping. I'll stop in on the way home and get some takeout, maybe a pizza or something, so neither of us will have to cook. Give Mark and Bobby a hug for me. Later.

Clarice.

Clarice was truthful about the shopping trip. The day she went to pick up the cologne and the oil, she'd stopped at the Baltimore Galleria Mall and paid a visit to the Victoria's Secret shop. She had put a sexy, spaghetti-strapped, ice-blue silk chemise and matching thong panties on layaway, and planned to pick them up on her way home. She'd also planned to stop at B. Dalton books to pick up some Tantric sex books that had caught her eye, as well as an illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra.

As she dressed, she took some of the stateside Vetivera di Amoro and dabbed a little of it over her body...over her neck, shoulders and stomach, a little on her wrists and between her breasts, even a little on the top of her feminine mound, around the tiny strip of brunette pubic hair that still remained. Then she put on her jeans, FBI Academy t-shirt, denim shirt, and sandals, her face lightly made-up and her hair easily brushed.

She almost broke the sound barrier driving to the hospital, where Barney Jackson, the big, hulking nurse who once worked there, was waiting. "Hey, Clarice, I wasn't expecting you this early," he teased, high-fiving her as she stepped out of her Mustang.

"Just some things I need to look at, to make sure I haven't missed anything," she replied. He gave her the keys, then stood back as she opened the door.

"I'll keep watch out here, keep the crazies out. You be careful, girlfriend."

Clarice smiled back at him, then went inside. To her great relief, he had not recognized the cologne she wore.

She didn't need her flashlight to help her get around in the basement...she knew the way by heart. She could still smell the stink of Dr. Chilton's cheap-ass Brut in her memory, could still feel the creepiness of his Krendler-like attempt at the come-on so many years ago...but they were only fleeting thoughts. So, too, was her memory of reading how Chilton had died while in the Bahamas...Hannibal had sneaked into his hideaway, slit the throat of his bodyguard, then slipped him a syringe full of tranquilizers. Chilton had come to later, to find that Hannibal had poured him a glass of Batard-Montrachet wine and prepared his last meal...a stew Chilton had polished off before realizing that he had provided its' meat.

Or, more to the point, his penis and testicles had provided the meat. The castration had caused a slow, painful death...and that fact had pleased Clarice, though she never admitted it to anyone.

Also, she could still hear Miggs' taunts about "smelling your cunt," and bristled at the memory of his semen being tossed into her face. This had totally pissed Hannibal off, the sheer disrespect of it, and she was also glad he had caused Miggs' suicide. It had frightened her at first, but even then she knew Hannibal had done it to avenge her. "Lecter did it to amuse himself," Jack Crawford had told her.

Yeah, right.

She finally made it to Hannibal's cell. The Plexiglass partitions were long gone, and she once again stepped inside the cell...

Suddenly, the familiar scent filled her nostrils with renewed strength. It wasn't coming from her, either. She looked around until her eyes focused on a lonely figure, seated in the darkness...seated on the floor beside the sink. The man stood up, then approached her.

It was Hannibal.

"Did Barney follow you?" he whispered sexily, stroking her hair back from her eyes.

"No," she replied, welcoming his caress. He had on only his prison slacks and a spray of the Vetivera di Amoro, and even in the darkness she drank in the beauty of his well-toned physique. Without saying another word, Hannibal drew her close and kissed her his arms wrapping around her waist as they had in Memphis, so long ago, his hands cupping her buttocks. Her hands slid up his shoulders and neck, cupping his face in her hands and their bodies and mouths crushed together hard.

He nibbled her neck as he eased her out of her denim shirt, then pulled the t-shirt off overher head in one fell swoop. "I wish we had more time, Clarice," he whispered sadly as he kissed his way down her body, unzipping her jeans and pulling them, and her sexy thong panties, down quickly before pulling her onto the floor with him. "But I just can't wait..."

"Don't worry about it," she cooed, unzipping his slacks and easing them down, freeing his erection. "I can't either."

He pulled her close and kissed her again, his erect penis rubbing against her juicy mound as they lay on the floor. He wanted inside her now, but held back a little. "I've not got any lubricant," he now confessed.

She got him to lie on his back, then began kissing down his body, giving him pleasure. "You let me take care of that," she sighed, her lips and tongue leaving a sensual trail over his hair-dusted pecs and abs while she wrapped her right hand around his shaft. Seconds later, her hand would anchor itself on the base of his penis while her insane mouth wrapped itself around the sensitive organ.

In all of his experiences, Hannibal had never been on the receiving end of oral sex, so the feel of Clarice's lips and tongue on his penis was a thrilling new sensation. "Ooooohhhh, Clarice," he sighed, surrendering himself to the sweet fellatio, "where did you learn to do that? Oh, yes...mmmmmmmmm..."

As much as he wanted to come inside her mouth, he didn't want to hog all the pleasure. "Clarice, please stop," he whispered, reluctantly interrupting this delicious new torture. She knew exactly what he wanted.

She got on all fours, her back to him, so he could fuck her doggy-style. Smiling, he took her up on her invitation, once again entering her raw. His hands would slide over her back as she rocked her body back to him, wanting to feel every inch, every stroke...quickie though it was, this round of fucking felt just as good as in the sleepscapes of her dreams.

Only this time, his cock had an easier time scraping along her Grafenberg spot, causing her to howl with pleasure. Almost too soon they came, almost too soon their bodies were shaking in sobbing orgasm...almost too soon, their screams and groans of delight interrupted the darkness, his come mingling with hers before she blacked out...

"Clarice? Clarice, wake up!"

Barney had found Clarice passed out in Hannibal's cell, and was gently shaking and tap-slapping her awake. She opened her eyes.

Barney was hovering above her, trying to wake her up. She still had her clothes on...had she been dreaming again?

"B...Barney?" she asked groggily. "Wha---what the fuck happened?"

"Either you've not had enough sleep, or you saw a ghost and fainted," he replied in a slightly scolding tone. "When you didn't come back out, I came in here looking for you. I found you passed out on the floor...are you all right now?"

Clarice shook off the fog, trying to return to reality. "I---I think so," she said, trying to conceal what really happened. "I'll be fine..."

"You sure? If you want me to, I can drive you back to Arlington."

Clarice's steps grew steadier as they walked outside. "Naw, I'll be okay. Thanks, though."

Barney was unconvinced, but he let her go. "It was being back here, wasn't it, Clarice?"

Clarice eased into the driver's side of her Mustang. "You could say that...'bye."

"'Bye."

Clarice then drove to the mall.

On the way there, she let the whole visualization play back in her head. This time, her dream caught her wide awake, and felt as frighteningly real as all the others.

If Ardelia knew about it, she would have the mother of all bitch-fits. If Jack Crawford and, God forbid, Paul Krendler found out, it would be her career.

"You're hallucinatin', girl," she whispered to herself. "It felt great, but it wasn't real...so how come I don't want him to stop?"

As she pulled into the mall parking lot, Clarice tried to shake it loose to retrieve what she had come here for.

In Florence, Hannibal let his mind drift in his hideaway. He had bought a couple of rock CDs at a music import store near Daniel Jamison' tattoo shop, a copy of Bob Seger's Greatest Hits and Metallica's Garage, Inc., as both CDs had Turn the Page...Clarice's song.

After awhile of his usual Goldberg Variations and a bit of Glenn Gould, he put in the rock CDs. First he played Bob Seger's version of Turn the Page, then Metallica's. He liked Metallica's version better, playing it over and over...letting his mind wander to his bedroom, where he saw his Clarice.

She was asleep on the other pillow, her pale flesh contrasting with the soft ebony sheets that barely covered her. Also contrasting with the sheets was the thin, flimsy, ice-blue silk frock she wore. Hannibal could hardly believe his eyes.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked himself, walking into the bedroom, toward where his Appalachian goddess lay. Taking a chance, he crawled into bed beside her. She smelled of sweet vanilla-amber perfume, her silken hair like the fruity Aussie Mega shampoo she often used...he could also smell the sweet almond soap she used, as well as her natural, female fragrance. The merging of her combined scents was truly intoxicating.

He slowly embraced her from behind, stroking her hair back off her face and neck as he softly kissed her awake. His lips were featherlight on her shoulder, then up her neck and to her earlobe. Her eyes opened, her nose catching his combined Vetivera di Amoro and clean man-scent, when his tongue slowly traced over her earlobe. This caused the first pangs of pleasure to burn through her flesh.

"Hey, babe," she drawled lazily, turning to face him. "Hope I didn't scare you."

"Oh, not at all," he sighed, his Cheshire cat grin forming already. "That was rather slippery of you sneaking in here..."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

She smiled back at him, feeling his fingertips lightly stroking her cheek. "I knew you weren't really asleep, Clarice..."

"Oh, you did not, you're lyin'..."

This time she had him. "Okay, so I'm lying."

His beautiful eyes lingered and sparkled with hers. "C'mere, Hannibal..."

She pulled him on top of her, the two of them kissing and cuddling languidly. Her mouth tasted like fresh strawberries, contrasting with the sweet red wine of his lips, her tongue feeling like Heaven in his mouth. They went on like this for endless minutes, this marvelous prelude as slow and languid as they could stand it.

"At the risk of sounding stupid," she now asked, "y'ever read the Kama Sutra?"

The question did not offend him. "Now why would that sound stupid, Clarice?" he replied, softly nuzzling her jaw. "You have every right to ask."

"Just curious..."

His smile deepened. "Yes, I have. I've also read some of the Tantric journals, and I know a little of it all by heart...but I'll be honest, Clarice, I like the Tantric books better..."

"So do I."

Now Hannibal had an idea. "Feel like helping me rewrite them, Clarice? We have our whole lives to do so..."

Clarice answered with another blistering kiss, her hands sliding down his torso to free him from his white pajama bottoms. He rose up long enough to take them off, leaving them on the floor when he rejoined her in bed. He was fully nude underneath, and already erect.

Now it was Clarice's turn to be undressed as Hannibal got her to sit up, then lifted her gown off of her, tossing it beside his pajama pants. Then they lay on top of the covers, wanting to see every inch of each other in the soft lamplight as they made love.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Stories Along The Landscapes of Lust...