The Smell of Cinnamon

Part 1

— And don’t let me ever see your sorry ass here again! — a loud female shout made both Lera and Brian flinch, as they stood pressed against the brick wall in the shadows of a narrow alleyway. From a second-floor window, where the yelling came from, a pair of men's sneakers flew out with a loud crash, made a graceful arc through the air, and landed right at the feet of a man in a crumpled jacket.

— Oof, someone's evening didn’t go as planned, — Lera chuckled with the deep, unfamiliar voice that still didn't feel like hers, as she awkwardly tried to tug at the collar of the jacket that squeezed her shoulders and rubbed her neck.

— Yeah, — Brian replied, shaking his messy, reddish hair that kept falling into his eyes. — But for us… everything’s going according to... plan? — He stretched out his hand, holding a crumpled piece of paper with a crudely drawn map and a heart symbol. — According to this scribble, we should be... right here?

He glanced at the building where the sneakers had just flown out of, then looked at Lera — tall, short-haired, with a slightly surprised look on the face of his former "self." It still felt weird — seeing himself from the outside and at the same time hearing his own voice coming out of her now wide lips.

— Well, if that chick from the instructions wasn’t bullshitting us... — Lera drawled, turning to him. — We’re supposed to find "the corridor with the red door and the smell of cinnamon." Remember? The smell of cinnamon?

— Honestly, all I smell right now is perfume and my own... — he hesitated, blushing. — ...body. Or more like — yours. It's like… way too sensitive. This dress…

He slipped his fingers under the neckline, trying to adjust his breasts, but quickly jerked his hand away when a passerby stared at him with obvious curiosity.

— Hey! Don’t grope me in public, you perv, — Lera barely managed to keep a straight face, but the corners of her lips curved up, betraying her amusement. — If you’re so eager, you can lock yourself in the restroom later, powder your "nose," chat with the girls about boys. But right now — focus, Brian. We’re here on business.

— Hilarious, — he muttered, barely keeping his balance on the heels, — it just itched, you know? These tits of yours… I’m already sick of them, and pff, — he blew a strand of reddish hair off his face, which immediately flopped back like it was mocking him. — And the hair! Let’s go already.

— Suck it up, Barbie, — Lera smirked and smacked him on the thigh. — You haven’t even experienced the joy of sticky underwear in the heat yet. Look, your thighs are already glued to your skirt, aren’t they?

Brian hissed through his teeth, instinctively shivering, and started nervously shifting from foot to foot, trying not to rub the inside of his thighs. He blinked and glanced down quickly — the edge of the dress had somehow ridden up higher, revealing not only his legs but also a fleeting glimpse of lace.

Part 2

— Lera, why the hell this dress?! — he hissed. — You had that suit, a normal one, black…

— Yeah, and probably a welding mask to go with it, — she snorted, heading toward the corner of the building. — It was a key requirement — "Your looks should reflect your inner desires." We were trying to get into the Wish Club, or whatever it’s called, and those boring clothes didn’t work, you remember. Maybe this time it’ll work. Maybe this is how you really see yourself in my body?

— What? Hell no! I just gave in to your stupid idea, I don’t think this will… Aah! — a loud, girlish squeal escaped as Brian twisted his ankle and nearly fell, barely catching himself on the wall nearby.

— Careful, Cinderella, — Lera snorted, grabbing his elbow. — Don’t mess up my delicate body.

Brian hissed in irritation, straightening up and trying to take a step. The heels wobbled under him like rookies on their first day of training. He looked down again — the skirt had ridden up slightly, showing off his slender knees and the edge of garters. And the breasts… those damn boobs — still felt heavy, foreign, jiggling with every step, and worst of all, they attracted the stares of random passersby, especially when he leaned forward.

— Do you smell it? The cinnamon? — Lera inhaled slowly through her nose, frowning. — Or is it just me again?

Brian took a cautious step forward, grimacing, shaking his head.

— I smell sweat, perfume, and… something else… — he stopped, breathing in slowly. — Wait. There’s something. Something… warm. Like bakery buns, but… spicier. Yeah, that’s it?

— Looks like it. Check the paper again, what does it say?

Brian forced his tense fingers to unclench and unfolded the crumpled map like it was some ancient scroll with instructions on how to escape his own body.

— So… heart, three lines, arrow… here, yeah, turn here, then the wall with graffiti, and, — he jabbed his finger at the center, — “the entrance under the sign where it smells spicy.” Clear as hell.

Lera leaned in closer, her short hair brushing against Brian’s cheek, the scent of cheap men’s cologne hitting his nose.

— So the door should be… — she turned slowly, squinting, — …here.

Her hand touched the wall, and suddenly something clicked under her fingers. The brickwork shifted, and one of the bricks, like magic, slid inward. With a dull click, a narrow passage opened in the wall, hidden in the shadows until now.

— There we go, — Lera nodded with satisfaction, flashing a wide grin at Brian. — Looks like your cute little dress actually worked.

Brian rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny it to himself. A light shiver ran down his back — whether from the smell of cinnamon or from Lera’s look, which now had way too much smug satisfaction in it.

Part 3

— Yeah, the cute little dress, — he muttered, nervously tugging at the hem. — Can I finally take off these heels now? My calves are cramping already.

Lera didn’t answer. Or rather, she didn’t have time to — her eyes got distracted by something inside the passage. Meanwhile, Brian bent down to his shoes, desperate to take off at least part of this hellish feminine uniform. But the moment his delicate hand with long, bright red nails — painted "to match the look" — touched the strap of his shoe, the passage shuddered slightly… and started to slowly close.

— Hey! Hey-hey-hey! — Lera shouted, noticing what Brian was doing and immediately jumping forward, grabbing him by the wrist. — What the hell are you doing, Brian?! Hands off the shoes! Look, it’s closing!

— Why are you yelling, damn it?! — he cursed, instantly letting go of the strap and lifting his eyes to the passage. The passage froze, as if thinking twice, and the solid wall returned to its former state, leaving only a faint shimmering outline.

— Oh, for fuck’s sake… seriously?

— Yeah, seriously! — Lera spun toward him, her eyes blazing. — Looks like this passage has its own freakin’ rules. You don’t wanna "stay in character" — well, screw you, no access. Makes sense. It’s the damn Wish Club, everything here’s about… aesthetics.

Brian exhaled, leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

— Maybe I should just pretend to be a bimbo? — he grumbled, then immediately arched his back in a ridiculous pose, pouted his lips, and chirped in a high-pitched voice: — Oh my God, Brynie is sooo dumb but sooo cute! Where’s my spicy little corridor, mm?

As if on cue, the shimmering outline of the passage lit up brighter, the walls slid apart slightly, and for a second, the glow of lamps and something that looked like stairs flashed inside.

— What the hell… — he muttered in his normal voice.

And at that same second — a click. The opening began to shrink.

— No way, seriously? — Brian squeaked in his usual tone, watching how the passage kept getting smaller and smaller, even though his hands weren’t anywhere near the heels or anything like that. He recoiled, raising his hands and looking at Lera, as if trying to say: "It’s not my fault!"

— Brian, for fuck’s sake! — Lera grabbed his shoulders and spun him toward her. — Looks like now you have to always talk like a bimbo, or that damn thing will disappear again!

— What!? Never! — he snapped, still hoping the passage would stop on its own. But it kept getting smaller and smaller with every passing second.

— Brian! We don’t have a choice! — Lera glared at him like she was ready to throw him through the damn opening if he didn’t shut up.

— Ughhh… — he exhaled through gritted teeth, hesitated, then forced out with exaggerated breathiness: — Ooooh, yes, my sweet little passage, don’t disappear, pretty please! Brynie loooves cute little things like this… mmm, all those mysteries and romance…

The passage instantly froze, then smoothly began to widen again. From inside, music was already clearly audible — something between lounge and club electronic beats — and the sharp scent of cinnamon grew stronger.

Part 4

Lera exhaled immediately, tiredly placing her hand on her flat chest.

— Phew, I thought that was it.

— Hee-hee, I told you, Brynie knows how to talk to cute little doors! — Brian squealed again with that breathy tone, instantly realizing she caught herself doing it. Her face darkened at once, overtaken by a wave of crushing embarrassment. — Oh God… what the hell am I saying… am I seriously supposed to always lisp and flirt like that now?!

The passage instantly crackled anxiously, like it was coughing. The stones began to shift, and the light inside started to fade.

— No-no-no! — Brian squeaked in panic, grabbing Lera by the hand. — Uuups! I mean… umm… oh no, don’t be mad, my sweet little passage, pretty please! Brynie’s just a little stressed, you know? Happens to everyone! Mmm, love when you’re all… tight and mysterious!

Lera burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

— Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t… You sound like one of those ads for scented pads.

— Shut up or I’ll… — Brian grumbled, nervously glancing at the corridor, suddenly remembering how important this was, and instantly added, with that same soft, purring voice, wanting nothing more than to vanish into the ground right now: — Let’s go, cutie, we don’t wanna keep our spicy little buddy waiting…

They stepped inside — the passage pulled them in like a soft embrace. The scent of cinnamon hit them instantly, almost wrapping around them, warm, with a note of vanilla and… something damp, like after a shower. Inside, there was dim light, brick walls, and arched ceilings from where the music echoed, the vibrations pulsing right into their breasts.

— Ooooh… how cozy! — Brian purred immediately, forcing herself to keep that damn voice going. — Brynie feels like she’s in a little secret closet… mmm, pure bliss!

— You’re kinda overacting, sweetheart, or… — Lera muttered, glancing around, — …not overacting?

— What do you mean "not overacting"? I feel fucking disgusting, — Brian blurted out, and at that exact second the corridor behind them made that familiar crunching sound, like someone yanked tight the laces of a corset. The lights flickered. The walls began to shift.

— Brian! — Lera barked, jumping in place. — The words! Sweet and breathy, now!

Brian, as if by reflex, squealed:

— Oh, oh-oh! Baby, don’t be mad, Brynie just lost her… mmm… magical mood for a second! Ugh, it’s so… moist in here, like a sauna for sweet little fantasies…

The corridor relaxed again, the ceiling lifted slightly. From deep inside came a booming sound: boom… boom… — like the pulse of some giant organism.

— Good job, keep the pace, Barbie, — Lera smirked, but her eyes turned more serious. — Listen, I think this place doesn’t just make us… “play along.” It’s testing how ready you are to go all the way. You chicken out — and the passage vanishes.

Part 5

— And what if I… mmm… like, shut up? — Brian whispered, and realizing how natural that sounded, she quickly added with an overly sweet fake tone: — Oh, you know, cutie, Brynie can totally be a quiet little thing… but only if you ask real nice! Hee-hee!

Another flash of light, and the cinnamon scent intensified. Small niches opened along the walls, each softly lit, leading into tiny rooms. One sign said "Get Changed," another — "Have a Drink," and the third — "Experience."

— Well, here we go, — Lera muttered. — So much for the club, huh? Looks like everyone’s got their own path here. Which one do we take?

— Uuuh, well… mmm, Brynie’s facing a real dilemma here, — Brian started, slowly shifting her gaze from sign to sign, distinctly feeling her thighs rubbing against the dress lining. — "Have a drink" sounds sooo tempting, as long as it’s not, mmm, some cocktail of insecurities… But "Experience"… oh God, I’ve already experienced enough! — she squeaked, then quickly added with a purr: — I mean… Brynie’s always up for new adventures! What do you think, cutie pie, maybe… we try everything one by one?

Lera crossed her arms over her chest and smirked crookedly:

— Jesus Christ, Brian, how the hell are you doing this? I swear it’s starting to look like you’re actually enjoying this shit. Be honest, were you secretly dressing up as a blonde at night and sneaking into clubs before? — Lera, standing boob-first to the shimmering wall, squinted like she just caught her boyfriend red-handed.

— Oh, cutie pie, nooo waaaay! — Brian sighed dramatically, arching her shoulders, letting her fingers rest coquettishly on her waist, the voice dripping with sugar again. — Brynie never ever wore wigs, pinky promise! Well… okay… there was that one time on Halloween, but that totally doesn’t count!

The corridor responded with a pleased humming sound, the walls parted another good half-meter, revealing a gentle curve ahead — like the stairs turned downward toward lights and pulsing beats. Lera nodded to herself — it worked.

— Alright, dollface, — she muttered with mock care, — Looks like we’ve got no choice. Gotta listen to your squealing. When you get tired, take breaks no longer than ten seconds, or the walls will clamp up again. Wanna test it? Seven… eight… nine… — She fell silent dramatically.

At “nine,” the ceiling creaked, like a reminder of the countdown. Brian jumped:

— Uuups! Brynie’s here, Brynie’s with ya! — she exhaled in relief as the mechanism relaxed again. — Yeah-yeah-yeah, my little sweethearts, I totally get it, like time and stuff, blah-blah, sooo boring.

— You’re nailing it, pretty girl, — Lera smacked his rounded thigh — the feel of smooth skin and firmness even made her pause for a second. — Alright. Let’s move.