Perfume

"What are you looking at?" his wife asked, jolting him back to the present. They were at the ballroom of the most expensive hotel in the city. Despite the strenuous relationship, they had to pretend to be the loving couple, the bearer of the heir to the empire. The truth is that they despised each other, and led separate lives, but to the public eye, they painted a different picture. From time to time they paraded publicly, showing the public the false reality of their incomparable love.
They had walked together into the ball room, hand in hand, but both their hearts were elsewhere. As always, they’d pretend to be in conversation as they walked in, acknowledging important guests.
It was amidst the thronging crowds that he first caught whiff of a familiar perfume. He quickly scanned amongst the sea of faces, but he did not see the one that he knew. His mind began to wander away, to bits and pieces of his immediate past, little bits of memory locked away in that scent suddenly let free. Many times he caught himself in a dreamy half smile when the bits an pieces began to congeal into a recognizable moment; and he had to immediately brush it away just as one would brush away a recalcitrant strand of hair in front of the eye. And the thought of what the whiff of perfume might mean began to excite him; and focusing on the present charade began to get harder and harder.
Suddenly, between the forest of heads and faces, he caught a glimpse of her, seated at a table. He felt a sudden warmth rush to his chest and with pounding in his ears. She was at a table with a man he did not recognize. He felt a tinge of envy (jealousy? he wasn't sure) when he saw her, body forward, occasionally throwing her head back in laughter. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and she covered her mouth with long, slender fingers on hands girded by fine diamonds laced together in gold. Her hair was done up on the top of her head, showing off her long, slender neck, which she accentuated with a fine gold chain and a diamond solitaire. Matching diamonds dangled from her ears, framing her face, bringing focus to her cheekbones. Her laugh was a picture of genuine mirth, and he envied the liberty at which she could express her emotions. "Breakfast at Tiffany's", he muttered under his breath, as he imagined her as Audrey Hepburn, in a black evening dress, tiara in her hair and diamonds on her ears.
His smile became a grimace as his eyes locked into the burning gaze of his wife. "Keep those filthy thoughts to yourself," she hissed under her breath as she clutched his arm and led him away in the opposite direction. "People are watching". Glum, he said nothing as he was led towards his father - in law, the empire builder. He hated functions like this, where he had to pretend to be someone else. He felt suffocated in the company of these pompous investors, each offering the means to a "meaningful relationship", but in truth planning to strip every single wall of the company bare and run. And he had to greet each and everyone of these thieves straight in the eye, firm handshake emanating confidence and trust. And he had to laugh at every one of their lame banker jokes and sound genuinely entertained; even though deep down he sorely wished that they would at least take the trouble to read a new joke book. To add to that pretense, he had the little "itch" with a "b" right next to him, part of the charade.
As he shook hands with the chairman of the Board of Governors, he flashed the big smile of a trusted comrade, his other hand covering the chairman's in a show of welcome. Another charade, another fake relationship, another smile hiding gritted teeth. And hiding all that, a strand of memory, lilting in the wisps of perfume.