Bring Me A Light And Then Bring Me A Light, Part 2 | |
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Bring Me a Light and then Bring Me a Light By The Tobacconatrix Part 2 "I believe nicotine is not addictive." Tobacco Company Executives testifying under oath before Congress; 1994 Chapter 1 Louise opened her eyes and instantly wished she hadn't. Brilliant sunshine was streaming into the little room, shining directly onto her face, and not in a good way. She squeezed her eyes shut again, but that didn't help much. Her head felt like it was about to explode. She waited hopefully, but nothing happened. Resigning herself to the fact that the explosion probably wasn't coming any time soon, she cautiously opened her eyes again. She was lying on a smallish bed in an even smaller room. It was full daylight outside, judging from the harsh sunlight that was bearing down on her, but she realised she had absolutely no idea what time it was. Was it morning? Afternoon? What day was it? She tried to turn her head, but that made the pounding worse, so she gave up on the idea for the moment. Her throat was incredibly sore, and there was an unpleasant taste in her mouth. And, she realised, she was unbelievably thirsty. She licked her lips, or rather, tried to. Just moving her tongue was painful. This was not fun. Now she became aware of something else: she needed to pee. In fact, she really needed to pee. She lay where she was, unmoving, going over the information so far. She was thirsty, she had to pee, and she didn't know what time it was. She was going to have to get up. So far, she didn't like this day one bit. Summoning up every ounce of her energy, she propped herself up on her elbows, fighting an urge to throw up. She remembered the cocktail party last night, and she remembered the lights going out. I probably had more to drink than I should have, she thought, ruefully. After the lights went out... After the lights went out... She mulled that over for a moment. She knew people who got very drunk were supposed to wake up with no memory of the night before. Wasn't that the cliche? She thought back to the blackout last night. She actually had fairly clear memories of the rest of the night, but she wasn't sure she could quite believe them. None of what had happened next felt like anything she would ever do. Perhaps that's what really happens, she thought. You wake up with clear memories, but they're all the wrong ones. Great, she thought absurdly. I'm lying in bed with the worst headache I've ever had, no idea what time it is, and the wrong life is flashing in front of my eyes. External clues. She needed external clues. Fighting the pain, she focused her eyes on the room, squinting in the blinding sunlight. The room was very small and very plain. A dorm room, or a very basic hotel. Well, yes. She was attending a two-week residential course; she never expected the Ritz. There was a small table next to the bed. On the table sat a cheap digital clock. She tried to see what the time was, but it was blinking 12:00 over and over. Of course, the power had failed last night. It was obviously back on again. Next to the unhelpful clock sat her little black clutch purse, an ashtray, and two open packs of cigarettes. The ashtray contained three lipstick-stained cigarette butts. Well, you wanted external clues, Louise told herself. There they are. It was bewildering. What had gotten into her last night? Her head was still throbbing, and she still needed to pee, so she put the cigarettes out of her mind for the moment and looked around the rest of the room. There wasn't much else to see. Next to her in the bed, a young woman lay sleeping. A few feet away was a second, empty bed, and beyond that was a door leading to a tiny-looking bathroom. The room has its own bathroom, Louise realised gratefully. Thank heavens for - wait; what? She looked down again, and sure enough, there was a woman lying next to her in the bed. She was turned away from Louise, so only her wavy straw-blond hair was visible on the pillow. The rest of her was under the covers. The same covers that Louise was under. So it really did happen. Louise turned over the implications in her head. It didn't help her headache at all. She remembered their smokey encounter downstairs in the dark - in fact that was something she was unlikely to forget for the rest of her life. They had eventually come upstairs to this room, and then... That's right, thought Louise; the power was still out, so this room was dark too. Not as dark as the bar downstairs since there was at least a window here. Dark enough, though, so that the two of them had huddled together on the bed, and continued what they had started downstairs. She remembered they had each lit another cigarette and played with the smoke; alternately smoking and kissing, enjoying the illicit experience. And they had shared a cigarette, Louise remembered. It had been incredibly sexy, taking the lit cigarette and putting in her friend's mouth, watching her puff on it. The cigarette as sex toy, Louise thought. She wondered if that would be covered on the course at some point. Her musings were interrupted by more pressing matters; she still needed to pee, and her throat was still painful and dry. Her friend seemed to be fast asleep next to her, so she gingerly pulled her legs off the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, her body was not cooperating. As soon as she began to move, she realised that she was aching all over. Her feet felt as if they were covered in blisters, and her calf muscles were almost completely seized up. When she tried to stand up, she nearly cried out, her legs were so sore. Looking down, she saw she had a bright purple bruise on her shin; probably where she had hit the chair when she fell over last night. Her friend moved slightly, but continued to sleep. Pulling herself upright with difficulty, Louise staggered over to the bathroom. She wasn't sure which was worse: the pain in her legs or the pain in her head, but she made it and gratefully sat down. When she finished - feeling much relieved - she pulled up her panties and flushed the toilet, which proved to be a mistake. The noise was painfully loud in the small room, and almost got the better of her. When she had recovered, she lurched over to the sink. There was a glass on the shelf by the mirror, and she grabbed it and filled it with water from the tap, then gulped it down greedily. As she moved to fill the glass again, she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, and it stopped her. She looked awful. Her face was smeared with splotches of lipstick that made her skin look diseased. Her eye makeup had run and her lashes were caked with clumps of mascara; it looked as if she had two black eyes. Her recently dyed hair, which had looked so wonderful last night, was sticking out in every direction. God, what had she gotten herself into? She drank her second glass of water, trying to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth, then she washed her face as best she could, rubbing away as much of the makeup as possible. When she had finished, she inspected herself again. She still looked awful; her skin was very pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes, but she didn't look quite as monstrous now, she decided. Just very, very tired. As she stood staring at herself, she became aware of noises coming from the other room; her friend was waking up. Her friend: what was her name? Louise strained to remember if she had learned it last night, but her brain was full of cotton candy. How could she not know her name, after all they had done last night? She certainly couldn't ask now; that would be ridiculous: "Good morning, I hope you slept well, I had a great time with you last night, by the way, what's your name?" She thought about going back into the room - maybe something would jog her memory - and she suddenly became very conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but her panties. What could she wear? She had packed pajamas and a bathrobe, but she didn't know where her suitcase was. She hadn't seen it since yesterday afternoon, and it certainly wasn't here in this room. For that matter, what was she going to wear downstairs? All she had was the outfit she was wearing last night. The thought of going down to breakfast (lunch?) in last night's dress made her feel embarrassed and insecure. She finally grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, then padded back into the room, wincing with every step. Her friend was just sitting up in the bed, and she looked the way Louise felt. Louise almost smiled at that. At least I'm not in this alone, she thought. With daylight filling the room, she finally had a chance to see her new friend's face clearly. She was young, probably in her very early twenties, with a sharp jawline and a slightly dark skin tone. Perhaps Spanish or Italian, Louise thought. She was pretty sure she had not spoken to her before the blackout last night. Her friend opened her eyes and then quickly closed them again. She was clearly in pain. "Good morning," Louise said. It was the first time she had spoken aloud all morning, and her voice sounded harsh and raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Good morning, how are you feeling?" Her friend opened her mouth and tried to respond, but no sound came out. Louise went back to the bathroom and filled the cup with water, which she brought back to her friend. Her friend took the cup gratefully and drank it down. "Thank you," she croaked, finally. "What time is it?" "I have no idea," said Louise, embarrassed. "The clock isn't working, and I didn't have a watch last night." She had a sudden thought. "Did you have one?" Her friend shook her head, eyes still closed. "We had that makeover thing," she whispered. "They didn't give me a watch." She was silent for a moment, then asked, "Is there a bathroom in here?" Louise assured her there was, and the young woman painfully pulled herself out of the bed. Like Louise, she was wearing nothing but her panties. Her body was slim and well-toned, but her face was drawn and haggard, and contorted in pain. Louise helped her into the bathroom, then retreated back to the main room to look around again. There was nothing in the room to indicate the time. She saw her dress, lying on the floor, alongside her shoes (no wonder her feet were killing her this morning!) and thrown over a chair were her friend's skirt and blouse. A pair of black high-heeled pumps were lying under the chair, along with a black shoulder bag. That must have been her friend's bag, Louise thought. In the dark she hadn't really noticed it last night. Her friend was still in the bathroom, so Louise quickly picked up the bag and opened it, hoping for some clue to her friend's name. The bag was empty, apart from a cigarette lighter. Resigning herself to her fate, Louise picked up her black dress and pulled it on. It reeked of stale cigarette smoke. What a weird night! The stockings she had been wearing were badly torn, so she threw them away. She balked at putting on those shoes again, but she couldn't very well go downstairs in her bare feet, so she finally pulled them on reluctantly. She could feel her calf muscles tightening up again as she stood up in the heels. And to think some women wear shoes like this all the time! Her head was still pounding, and she wondered if there was anywhere nearby she could get some aspirin, and maybe some coffee. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no money. That woman Tina had taken all of her things and put them in a secure area with her suitcase when she had arrived. She was going to have to go downstairs and find out what was happening. She could hear the sound of running water from the bathroom, and a moment later her friend emerged, wrapped in a towel and looking slightly more awake. When she saw that Louise was dressed, she smiled, weakly. "You're doing better than I am this morning," she crossed over and sat down heavily on the bed. "I'm not so sure about that," said Louise. "I was just thinking about going downstairs to see what's happening. Maybe find our bags." "Good idea," said her friend, and Louise had a sudden inspiration. "Shall I try to find your bag for you?" She asked. "Is it labelled?" "It's a brown duffel bag; it should have a name tag on it." Her friend was silent for a moment. What name, Louise screamed silently. I don't know your name!! "Ramirez," her friend finally said. "It should say Portia Ramirez." Portia. Her name was Portia. Louise felt a flooding of relief. She was sure she hadn't heard that earlier; she would have remembered the name Portia. Finally she had a name to attach to her friend: Portia! "What about your bag?" Portia asked. "Just a small black suitcase, nothing special," Louise shrugged, and then it suddenly hit her what Portia was asking. "It's labelled," she said. "Louise Hamilton." Portia smiled gratefully, and Louise felt some of the tension melt away. They had both been torturing themselves about this, she realised. They had just spent the night together, and they didn't even know each others' names. She felt close to Portia all over again. "Why don't I wait for you, and we can go down there together," Louise said, but Portia shook her head. "No, please go ahead; I'll need a few minutes to pull myself together. You can go and see what everyone else is doing." Louise nodded. "Are you sure you're okay?" She suddenly felt very protective of Portia. "I'm fine," she said. "It was a rather unusual night for me last night. I'm sort of new at this," "Me too," said Louise, very much relieved. "I'm not used to any of this." She started to say more, but Portia interrupted her. "We can talk about it when we're both fully awake," she said. "Go ahead; I'll catch up to you in a few minutes." With that, Louise clopped out of the room, feeling extremely ungraceful in her heels, and went off in search of the others. Chapter 2 At first, Louise couldn't find anybody. She had gone downstairs, but the front of the building was deserted, and there were no signs of life in the corridors. Just as she was about to try her luck outside, she heard voices coming from the bar. Poking her head through the door, she saw that the room had been transformed. A series of tables and chairs had been arranged in the centre of the room, and the bar itself had been fitted out with coffee, orange juice and cereal. Tina was sitting at one of the tables with a well-dressed woman Louise did not recognise, and two girls she remembered from the night before. They were drinking coffee and Tina was doing something on a laptop. There was no one else in the room. They all looked up as Louise entered the room, and Tina got to her feet, smiling. "Good morning," she beamed, looking ridiculously bright and alert. "How are you this morning? Can I get you some coffee? Something to eat?" Louise gratefully accepted a cup of black coffee and sat down with the others. She wasn't quite ready to trust her stomach with solid food, so she decided to take it one step at a time. "This is Dr. Piper," Tina said, indicating the well-dressed woman. "She arrived this morning; I've been filling her in on the problems we had last night." Louise shook hands with Dr. Piper and introduced herself. The other two girls smiled and introduced themselves as Jordan and Kumiko. They look more alert than I feel, thought Louise, ruefully. "You three are the first ones downstairs this morning," said Tina. "But after the chaos last night we're not going to rush anyone." Louise looked at the clock above the bar and was surprised to see it was only 9:20. She had imagined it was much later than that. She sipped her coffee, willing herself to feel more human. Her head was still pounding and she was uncomfortably aware of the way she must look, wearing last night's dress to breakfast. Thankfully, Jordan and Kumiko were also in the clothes they had worn to the party, although they did not seem as dishevelled. I must look like a rank amateur, Louise thought to herself. She tried to look alert and responsive as Tina and Dr. Piper began outlining plans for the day, but truthfully she was having a hard time focusing on what they were saying. Something about formalising the rooming arrangements and collecting luggage and belongings, then the first proper class session in the afternoon. "But first," Tina was saying, "Once you finish your coffee you can go see your stylists." Louise was surprised by this; she had thought the makeovers were a one-off deal. Kumiko spoke up for the first time. "Apparently we are each going to be a project for the fashion college over the next two weeks. Tina was just explaining it when you came down. So they will be working on us each morning." Tina nodded in agreement. "At the end of the two weeks, they will each get graded on the jobs they have done with you lot, so try to look stylish for their sakes!" Jordan smiled. "I like it," she said. "It made me feel sexy last night!" Yes, me too, thought Louise, and looked towards the door, wondering when Portia would come down. "Tina arranged this partnership with the fashion students," Dr. Piper said. "And it's great; in exchange, they have agreed to help cover the cost of this course for us." They chatted for a few minutes more while they all drank their coffee. Then Dr. Piper opened her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "I hope no one minds," she said, as she lit up. "I know you girls don't smoke, but I do." She inhaled deeply and blew a long, thick stream of smoke across the table. "It really goes with the coffee." Tina, Kumiko and Jordan all looked annoyed, but they made no attempt to move away from the cigarette. Louise watched Dr. Piper smoking with mixed feelings. On the one hand she wasn't crazy about the smell. She still had a headache and the thick cigarette smoke actually made her feel a bit queasy. On the other hand, it reminded her that just last night she had been smoking herself. And I'll be doing it again today, she thought. Along with the whole group. At that moment, Portia came in, looking more composed than she had earlier. Like the rest of them, she was wearing her outfit from last night. Louise stood up and introduced her to the assembled group, then got her a cup of coffee, which Portia took with great relief. Other girls were starting to drift in as well, most of them looking rather the worse for wear. Anthea the goth girl came in looking almost comical in the leather corset she had been wearing yesterday. This morning, she had obviously made very little attempt to lace it up properly, and she had to keep holding it to prevent it falling off. She came in with Michaela the dancer, who seemed surprisingly bright and full of energy considering how out of it she had been last night. Louise noticed that no one was making any move towards the cereal. The general noise level in the room was starting to increase as more girls arrived, and Louise was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. She wanted to talk to Portia, but the opportunity never presented itself. With her head still hurting (and the smoke from Dr. Piper's cigarette) she really wanted some fresh air, as well. She was very grateful when Tina suggested that the girls who had finished their coffee might head over to see their stylists. Chapter 3 "Darling, you really had a night last night, didn't you?" Louise was seated in the makeup chair. Adrian and Yvette, the two fashion students she had met yesterday, were fussing with her hair and eyes and chatting non-stop. "I heard about the power failure," Adrian was saying. "What a nightmare! These things always happen at the worst possible time." "And look at your eyes," Yvette tutted. "Someone didn't get much sleep last night! We have our work cut out for us!" Louise was embarrassed. "Well, it was a party," she started to explain, but Adrian interrupted her. "Please, we work with fashion models," he said. "We've seen everything. Just leave it to us." Louise had a sudden thought. "I don't suppose you have any aspirin?" she asked. "I woke up with a bit of a headache this morning." And what an understatement that is, she thought to herself. Adrian and Yvette smiled knowingly at each other. "Don't worry, we've all been there," Yvette assured her. She went to her bag and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "Take a couple of these; you will feel much better. They're very strong." She brought Louise a glass of water, and Louise swallowed the pills gratefully. "In fact, you can keep those," smiled Yvette. "I have more in my room." Louise settled back in the chair and let them go to work on her. They continued to chat and prattle as they fussed over her nails, eyes and lips. Louise felt like a piece of meat, but for once she didn't mind. It was nice to relax and let them do all the work for a change. And they were very thorough. Yvette busied herself covering the dark circles under Louise's eyes, putting colour back into her cheeks, and even covering up the bruise on her shin. Adrian went to work on her hair and talked incessantly about wardrobe ideas and colour schemes. She was a bit annoyed when Yvette lit a cigarette, closely followed by Adrian, but she didn't make a fuss about it. She was in their workspace, after all. Yvette actually asked her if she wanted one as well, but Louise declined politely. It suddenly occurred to her that she had left her own pack of cigarettes up in the room. Her own cigarettes; that was an odd thought. She had never imagined that she might have cigarettes of her own. But last night, she knew, she had actually smoked more than one. She thought back to it, and it again felt as though she was remembering someone else. It was not Louise who had done those things last night, it was some other person. Some sexier, more glamorous person. She tried to study Yvette and Adrian as they smoked. They seemed to do it so effortlessly! Both were working with their hands so they often let their cigarettes dangle in their mouths for long stretches at a time; drawing the smoke in almost continuously. When they exhaled, Louise noticed, the smoke came out in long, thick, concentrated streams. She remembered the unformed clouds that she and Portia had been blowing last night, but they had looked nothing like this. And Yvette and Adrian didn't seem to be obsessing over their cigarettes at all. They continued to fuss with Louise's hair and makeup, never pausing in what they were doing. They were multi-tasking, Louise realised. Working and smoking at the same time. She wasn't sure she would be able to do that. She remembered her experience last night, trying to hold the unlit cigarette while drinking cocktails and talking to the other girls. To be convincing as a smoker, you almost have to ignore the cigarette, she thought. You carry on doing whatever you were doing, you just do it while smoking. She tried to imagine herself making coffee, or surfing the Internet, or talking on the phone, while smoking. It must be very strange to reach a point where cigarettes are so completely second nature to your daily life. Certainly she and Portia had found the act of smoking completely engrossing last night. Adrian and Yvette continued to work on Louise for quite a while and by the time they finished, she realised with surprise that her headache was completely gone, and she felt newly energised - almost euphoric. Even her leg muscles didn't hurt as much, and she didn't bother to object as much when Adrian produced a new set of high heels to compliment the outfit he had selected for her. "Are you sure about this?" She merely asked when she saw the revealing dress. "Sweetie, you have amazing legs," cooed Adrian. "You've got to show them off, girl!" Louise brushed this off, laughing - and secretly flattered - and put on the lavender dress they had selected. A pair of tights and the open-toed shoes (not quite as insanely high as the last pair, but still more than Louise was used to) and she felt like a new woman. Looking at herself in the mirror, Louise was amazed. The pasty skin and dark circles of that morning were gone completely. Her skin looked radiant and her hair was silky and shining. She looked like a million dollars, and felt ready for anything. Yvette saw the look in her eye and smiled. "Go get `em, girlie!" she said. Chapter 4 While the girls were getting their makeovers, Beverly and Tina set the stage for the rest of the day. Both were tired. They had spent most of the night going over the video footage with Eve, and had only managed to grab an hour or so of sleep. Eve had now gone to her room to get some well-earned rest, but Tina and Beverly were having to content themselves with strong coffee and lots of energy drinks for the time being. The video footage had been dynamite. Turning off the lights had had a much more dramatic effect on the group than Beverly had dared hope, and by the time they were ushered up to their rooms, the majority of the girls had experimented with smoking. Rather a lot of them had experimented with other things as well, and Beverly was only sorry that they couldn't have cameras in the bedrooms; she was certain that things had not stopped once the girls had gone upstairs. "Do you want me to lay out refreshments?" Tina had been arranging chairs and tables in preparation for the first official smoking lesson. The tables were arranged in groups with plenty of ashtrays within easy reach of all the chairs. She now looked over at Beverly inquiringly. Beverly shook her head. "No, not in here, but put out plenty of water and coffee outside for afterwards." She knew that the girls would be desperate for water as they learned to inhale for the first time, and she didn't want any within easy reach. They were also all extremely hungover, and would doubtless be dehydrated all day. Watching them all staggering downstairs in yesterday's outfits and practically pouring the coffee into themselves had been the high point of the morning thus far. In their weakened condition, the nicotine should affect them even more strongly, so their first "real" smoking experience would be a powerful one. Tina went out to organise the drinks, and Beverly took the opportunity to sit down for a moment. She lit a cigarette and closed her eyes briefly. She was tired, but felt wide awake thanks to the energy drinks - and, she knew, the adrenaline from seeing the project developing so well. After spending yesterday evening watching the group, she had a good sense of the types of girls she would be dealing with. That working actress - Claire - was the oldest of the group and, like so many professional actresses, a bundle of neuroses. That much had been plainly obvious last night. When the lights had gone out she had almost had a full-blown panic attack. She had then been the first of the group to actually light her cigarette - after Kumiko and Jordan had started the ball rolling. Someone as insecure as that was going to a heavy smoker almost immediately, Beverly knew. By the end of the first week, Claire was going to be relying heavily on her cigarettes. The surprise had been Michaela, the dancer. She was one of the few who had not smoked last night, and Beverly shook her head at the irony; a non-smoking ballet dancer. She would keep an eye on her today, though. Kumiko had cautioned that she was almost certainly on something, from the way she was behaving last night. Whatever it was that she was taking had not mixed well with the cocktails they had been serving. Diet pills, Beverly assumed, from the look of her. Probably amphetamines. Oh well, smoking would actually be the healthier option for her. Beverly wondered if that was why she had signed up for a course like this, but apparently she had told Kumiko that her ballet troupe was preparing a dance version of Carmen, and she was going to have to smoke onstage. Whatever her reason, Beverly was sure she would be compulsively smoking soon enough. Although Michaela had not smoked last night, she had managed to persuade one of the other girls to start. Beverly laughed out loud, thinking back to it. That goth girl, Anthea, had been so terrified of Michaela drunkenly waving her lighter around in the dark, she had actually lit her cigarette just as an excuse to take the lighter away from her. Well, good for Michaela, Beverly smirked. Beneath all the goth trappings (courtesy of the fashion department) Anthea was a cocky literature post-grad. Beverly had seen the type many times before; a boorish academic who was convinced she understood every aspect of the human psyche because she had read a book about it. Well, Beverly was a social anthropologist. Anthea was playing in the big leagues now. Turning her into a full-time smoker was going to be a pleasure. And then there were the lovebirds, Beverly thought. There had been quite a lot of groping and physical contact in the dark last night, but two couples in particular had gone far beyond that. Anushka (the Bollywood sex-goddess-to-be) had put in quite a performance with Rochelle, the minister's daughter. Beverly wondered what a minister would do if he ever found out what his sweet daughter was getting up to when he wasn't around. She also hoped that Anushka's family was liberal in its attitudes. A Hindu girl getting together with a black minister's daughter? There could be fireworks there. Beverly hoped she was wrong, but she had a strong feeling that their relationship wouldn't last very long now that the lights were back on. Some old attitudes were hard to shift, even with advanced social engineering. The other couple might have better success. That gorgeous girl with the Louise Brooks hair (whose name really was Louise, Tina had told her) had put on quite a performance with another girl, Portia. After literally sweeping her off her feet, they had essentially made love right there on the floor of the bar. They had also put on an incredible smoking show, especially considering they both clearly had no idea how to smoke. Tina had been astonished when she had seen the footage. "But that girl was so timid and reserved when she arrived," she had said, shaking her head. "It's amazing what a makeover and a few drinks can do." Beverly now had high hopes for both Louise and Portia. If her instincts were right, they were going to be the stand-out subjects of the whole course. But first things first, she reminded herself. Today she was going to have to teach twenty hungover girls how to inhale. Chapter 5 At 1:30 the group had its first official smoking lesson. They met in a simple, well lit room; tables had been arranged in small groups, with four or five chairs per table. Louise saw that each table had several ashtrays. At the front of the room, Dr. Piper sat casually on the edge of a desk with an ashtray of her own and several cartons of cigarettes. Tina was flitting around the room with an armful of cigarette packs. The girls had drifted in in small groups, and Louise saw that they seemed to be looking better than they had that morning. Like her, everyone must have been washed, brushed and quaffed by their respective stylists. Louise herself was feeling fantastic. There was no trace of the headache she had had in the morning, and even her feet had stopped hurting in the heels. She was obviously getting used to them, finally. She was amazed that she could be feeling so much better after such a rough start to the day, but she certainly had no complaints. She and Portia sat down at one of the tables, finding seats so that they had a good view of Dr. Piper. Portia was looking great in a simple pair of dark slacks and a white blouse. Her heels were just visible under the slacks; Louise thought she looked very elegant. The other girls were finding seats around the room. Louise and Portia were joined at their table by Anthea and Michaela. They had come downstairs together in the morning, Louise remembered; they were probably sharing a room. They made a very unlikely pair: Anthea in her full goth ensemble (which was, if anything, even more extreme today) standing well over six feet tall in her stiletto boots, and Michaela the dancer, at least a foot shorter and extremely (scarily) thin. Louise wondered how the two of them had gotten bundled together. "Does anyone here need cigarettes?" Tina had come up to their table. Louise and Portia both shook their heads; they had retrieved their own packs an hour earlier when they had taken their luggage and belongings up to the room. Anthea also produced a pack of her own, but Michaela accepted a fresh pack from Tina. "I'm afraid I must have lost mine last night when the power went out," she said apologetically, and Anthea rolled her eyes. "Not to worry," Tina assured her. "There are plenty to go round, so just take what you need." Louise saw that Michaela's new pack was different from their own, and she squinted at it. "Newport," it said. "That goes for everyone," Tina was saying. "Whenever you need fresh cigarettes, just take them; there will always be supplies available." She moved on to the next table. Just how many cigarettes does she think we're going to be smoking, Louise wondered. She opened the lid of her own pack and was momentarily surprised to see how many were already gone. Well, I guess we smoked a few last night, she thought; plus the unlit ones I was holding... At that moment, Dr. Piper stood up and called for everyone's attention. "Good afternoon, and welcome," she said. "I know we're a bit late getting started today, and I apologise again for the problems last night. Hopefully we can now get the schedule back on track. "I know you are all here because you want to learn how to smoke convincingly in different social contexts, and that is what we will be working on together. There is obviously a great deal more to smoking than simply putting a lit cigarette in your mouth, and by the end of this course, I hope that all of you will have an idea of what it means to portray `a smoker', rather than simply someone holding a cigarette." She smiled at that. "But first things first. Before I proceed with any of this, has anyone here actually tried smoking a cigarette before?" She looked around the room, expectantly. Louise and Portia exchanged glances, and Louise felt herself turning red under her makeup. She wasn't sure whether to raise her hand or not. Before yesterday, the answer would have been a resounding, unambiguous no; she had never so much as touched a cigarette, let alone smoked one. But today... She looked around the room. No hands were going up. Well, it makes sense, thought Louise. A smoker wouldn't really need a course like this. Then, very timidly, and looking very embarrassed, Kumiko, seated at the adjacent table, raised her hand. For a moment, hers was the only hand in the air. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Then, just as nervously, another hand went up: a girl with designer glasses - what was her name? Louise had met her in the morning: Jordan. Suddenly, at their own table, Anthea's hand went up, much to Louise's surprise. She looked around the room again, and quite a few hands were starting to go up, including Anushka, and Claire, the professional actress Louise had spoken to last night. Louise looked questioningly at Portia, who shrugged slightly, and the two of them raised their own hands. By now about two thirds of the group had their hands up. Louise didn't know what to make of this; she had assumed that everyone here would be just as inexperienced as she was, but now she wasn't so sure. She felt a hint of the old nervousness starting to return. Dr. Piper surveyed the show of hands. "Interesting," she said, nodding. She didn't seem particularly surprised. "Some of you, but not all." Louise tried to see whose hands were still down. Michaela, for one, she saw. Also a tall girl with bleach blond hair whose name Louise didn't know, and maybe half a dozen others. "Well, we will start with the absolute basics," Dr. Piper continued. "And that is learning how to inhale." She looked around the room. "Any of you who already know this, I apologise. Just be patient." She pulled out a cigarette from the pack next to her and lit it, casually. Smoke began to rise from the tip. "A cloud of inhaled smoke and a cloud of uninhaled smoke look very different," she said, and took a theatrically long drag, which she then blew into the room. The smoke came out of her mouth in a thick, tight stream that seemed to go on forever. "That's why inhaling is important." She took a second, shorter puff on the cigarette and blew the smoke out immediately. It came out in a formless, weak cloud. That's what Portia and I were doing last night, Louise thought. We weren't inhaling. She was struck by the difference. "To an experienced smoker, it's always very obvious if someone isn't inhaling," Dr. Piper said. "It will always just look like someone pretending to smoke. Even non-smokers can tell the difference, although they might not understand exactly why it looks different. They will have seen enough images of smokers to know what smoking is supposed to look like." She took another long drag on her cigarette. "This afternoon, you are all going to learn the basics of inhaling." Thick smoke poured out of her mouth with every word. Louise could smell it from where she was sitting. "So let's get started. Can everyone take out a cigarette?" Here we go, thought Louise, and pulled a single cigarette out of her pack. Around the room, everyone else did the same. "Does everyone have a lighter?" Dr. Piper asked. Louise retrieved her own from her purse. Portia also had produced her lighter and was holding it expectantly. "Okay, I want you to begin by simply lighting the cigarette. Don't try to inhale just yet. Just touch the flame to the tip of the cigarette and suck on it very gently." Louise put her cigarette in her mouth. The lipstick she was wearing today wasn't nearly as thick as yesterday, so it felt slightly different against her lips. Yvette had decided to go for a slightly more subtle look this morning, and had chosen a less fiery shade. She flicked the lighter into life (she was getting the hang of the mechanism) and gingerly touched the flame to her cigarette. For an instant, nothing happened. Then she sucked slightly on the filter; the flame flickered slightly against the tip, and she felt the harsh smoke rushing into her mouth. Last night, everything had seemed to be happening in a dream. She remembered the cigarettes she and Portia had smoked together in the dark, but it hadn't seemed quite real. She wasn't sure if it was because of the darkness, or because of the drinks she had had, or because the whole situation had been so unlike anything she had ever experienced, but there had been a distinct touch of fantasy about the whole night. Even now, she couldn't quite believe that it had been her, Louise, who had smoked those cigarettes, who had kissed Portia in the dark, who had... done everything else they had done last night. This was different. The room was brightly lit, and she was awake and alert. If anything, she felt hyper-alert. She was acutely aware of every sensation; the smell of Dr. Piper's half-smoked cigarette, the feel of her own cigarette against her lips; the sound of Portia nervously shifting in her seat; and now the harsh taste of the tobacco filling her mouth. It was an unpleasant taste, and she quickly blew it out, expelling a large, formless cloud of smoke. It left a bitter feeling in her mouth, and it reminded her of the time she had accidentally swallowed a mouthful of milk that had gone off. She suddenly wished she had brought a bottle of water with her. Next to her, Portia had lit her own cigarette, and was also releasing a big, messy cloud of smoke, wrinkling up her face as she did so. She saw similar clouds of smoke appearing at the other tables, and she heard a few muffled coughs. "Don't try to take large puffs for now," Dr. Piper said. "Just take it slow." Louise put the burning cigarette back in her mouth and took a very shallow puff. Again, the harsh smoke filled her mouth, and she blew it out quickly. The air in the room was becoming very thick with smoke; twenty-two girls were all smoking simultaneously. Twenty-three, counting Dr. Piper, who continued to exhale long, thick streams of smoke into the air. She's showing off, thought Louise. She's deliberately showing us how amateurish we look next to a `real' smoker. She remembered the way Yvette and Adrian had smoked their cigarettes earlier, and suddenly she was gripped by a determination to prove herself. If so many people can do this, it can't be that hard, she thought to herself. I will master this if it kills me. She again puffed on her cigarette, and felt the now familiar sensation in her mouth. This time, however, she consciously pulled on it for longer, taking in more of the smoke than she had previously. Instead of blowing it out immediately, she held it in for a few moments. It tasted foul, and she had to concentrate to avoid gagging, but she was careful to keep her face calm; she refused to be beaten by this. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she released the large cloud of smoke. As she did so, her eyes met Portia's. Portia was watching her with a faint smile on her face; a cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air between them. Louise was momentarily embarrassed; she felt like she had been caught red-handed. Without breaking her gaze, Portia slowly raised her own cigarette to her lips and pulled on it. The tip glowed faintly red. She then lowered the cigarette and let the smoke dribble out of her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on Louise the whole time. She's flirting with me, Louise realised. Not to be outdone, she raised her own cigarette and took a long, dreamy puff, then puckered her lips in an exaggerated kiss, and let the smoke escape in Portia's direction. They continued to play with each other like this for a few minutes more. Louise noticed that it was much easier to tolerate the smoke if she focused on Portia and not the cigarette. Dr. Piper was moving around the room, observing everyone, showing how to de-ash the cigarettes and offering occasional pointers. "Keep your lips a bit firmer," she said to one girl, "try to focus the exhale, like you're blowing out a candle." "Try holding it like this," she said to another. "It looks like you're smoking a joint." She came up to Louise and Portia. "Not bad," she said approvingly. "You two are getting the hang of it." She turned to Michaela, who had been taking very rapid, shallow puffs and blowing them out quickly. "Try to relax a bit; space your puffs out a bit more. You don't need to mainline the thing." She straightened up and addressed the whole group. "An average smoker will usually spend about six to ten minutes on a cigarette. Faster than that and you will seem nervous, or edgy. Slower and it will look as if you're just holding it for show, and not really smoking it. But we'll get into all that in due course." Louise's cigarette was starting to get quite short, and she awkwardly crushed it out in the ashtray. She stabbed the burning stub repeatedly, but it continued to smolder. Had this happened last night? It had been too dark to tell, but the room hadn't burned down, so presumably it was all right. Dr. Piper saw her attempts and came over to assist. "You need to twist it as you crush it," she said, crushing out her own cigarette by way of demonstration. "Every smoker develops their own style of putting out a cigarette, so there is no definitive right or wrong way to do it. In fact many crime thrillers - going back to Sherlock Holmes - have shown detectives identifying people by the way their cigarette butts have been stubbed out. In real life, of course, a lot of smokers will just drop the cigarette on the ground and crush it out with their shoe." She laughed. "That's a very bad habit to get into, but then so is smoking." A number of other girls attempted to crush out their own cigarettes. Anthea, who had been smoking her cigarette with a resigned expression, stabbed almost viciously at the ashtray, jabbing it over and over. "I think it's dead," said Portia, mildly, and Anthea looked up and blushed slightly. "If you girls are ready," said Dr. Piper to the room, "it's about time to try inhaling." She smiled knowingly. "And this is where things get interesting." Louise extracted another cigarette from her pack (which, she noticed, was now about half empty). She became aware of a tingling sensation in her stomach; she was curious about this, she realised. More than that, she was almost excited; she was about to try something completely new, and she wasn't sure what it would be like. New experiences seemed to be crowding upon her at the moment. She looked over at Portia again. Portia had just extinguished her own cigarette and was preparing to light a new one. "Some of you may find this very strange," Dr. Piper was saying. "That wouldn't be surprising. Don't forget that nicotine is a drug, just like caffeine, or alcohol, and you will definitely feel it in your system for the first time. So just take it slow." Louise lit her new cigarette, and felt the now-familiar sting of tobacco in her mouth. She released the cloud of smoke. "When you are ready," Dr. Piper said, "take a puff of the cigarette, as you have been doing, but don't blow it out. Instead, inhale through your mouth, so that the smoke in your mouth is sucked into your lungs." She paused for a moment. "And don't be surprised if your lungs aren't ready for it!" Louise took a smallish puff on her cigarette. Something told her to go easy. Cautiously, she opened her mouth slightly, careful not to blow the smoke out. Then she sucked a tiny bit of air in from the room, and the smoke poured down her throat. The effect was immediate and dramatic. She felt a force slam against her chest, and she was instantly convulsed in a fit of coughing. She felt her eyes watering as she fought to catch her breath, and she nearly dropped her cigarette. Dimly, she was aware of violent coughing coming from the room around her, but she couldn't look around - not just yet. First she needed to start breathing again. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she sensed, rather than saw, Portia leaning over her, concerned, but smirking slightly. Portia didn't seem to have any difficulty, so she was either coping better, or she hadn't tried inhaling yet. Louise gradually caught her breath and straightened up, trying to affect some dignity. Her nose was running and her eyes were watering, but she forced herself to appear calm. "Piece of cake," she croaked, and almost started coughing all over again. She looked over at Portia. "Have you tried it yet?" "Here goes," said Portia, and pulled on her own cigarette. Louise saw a little ball of smoke appear as her lips parted, then the ball disappeared as it was pulled into her lungs. Portia was instantly doubled over, coughing and spluttering, and spewing thick smoke out of her nose and mouth. Louise held her gently, just as Portia had done for her a moment earlier. Around the room, she saw the same spectacle being repeated at every table. It looked for all the world as if the whole group had come under gas attack; everyone was coughing, gasping and convulsing. Louise would have laughed if she had been able to breathe. At the front of the room, Dr. Piper actually was laughing, in between puffs on her own freshly-lit cigarette. "Don't worry," she said. "This is perfectly normal. It takes a bit of practice." She released a long, thick column of smoke towards the ceiling. "That's why it's good to know what you're doing before you audition to play Sally Bowles." There was some weak laughter from the group. Louise still had her cigarette in her hand, and resolved to try again. It's a skill, she told herself; like riding a bicycle. Once you learn it, you will know it. She raised the cigarette to her lips again, and took an even smaller puff than last time. Once again, she held the smoke in her mouth for an instant, then sucked it into her lungs. This time, she told herself, she was ready for it - it wouldn't catch her off guard again. She almost made it. She again felt the force slamming into her chest, and her lungs felt like they were full of acid. She clamped her lips shut and forced herself not to cough. She felt herself sweating, and her skin felt cold and clammy. Why would anyone do this recreationally? After a moment, she actually felt the cough reflex starting to subside. She released her breath, and was surprised to see a tight stream of smoke escaping from her lips. It wasn't as thick as the rich luxuriant streams Dr. Piper had been blowing, but it was also much tighter and more directed than the loose clouds she and Portia had been releasing thus far. She watched the stream come to an end and start to dissipate into the smokey room, obscurely proud of herself. She decided to try again right away, even though the clamminess was getting worse. Having once succeeded, she wanted to hold that feeling while she had it. She took another puff, and saw the tip of her cigarette flare up. Sucking the smoke down, she knew what to expect, and successfully held it down. Her throat was burning, and the room was starting to spin around her. She felt a large knot forming in her stomach, and she realised she was actually feeling quite dizzy. She released the stream of smoke and it once again emerged thick and strong, but now all the blood was rushing to her head - or perhaps the blood was rushing away from her head, she wasn't quite sure. Either way, she felt sick and dizzy. Her pulse was racing and her stomach was turning flip-flops. This is like having the flu, she thought. She looked over at Portia, and had to fight off a wave of nausea as she turned her head. Portia was exhaling a very nice plume of smoke, but she was also looking distinctly green, and she was rocking in her chair slightly. She looks seasick, thought Louise. Across the table, Anthea was also having trouble. Her goth makeup already made her look pale, but now she looked like the walking undead (or the sitting undead, thought Louise). She held the burning cigarette between her long fingertips the way one might hold a dead mouse. Louise looked around the room, partly out of curiosity, but mostly as an excuse to take her mind off her own cigarette for a moment. Everyone seemed to be struggling. She saw the beautiful Anushka raising her cigarette to her lips, and saw that her hand was shaking. Her eyes were glazed, and she appeared to be barely holding herself together. Next to her, her friend from last night was looking miserable and a bit frail as she sucked glumly on her own cigarette. Other girls were also looking pained and disoriented; it was almost funny, but Louise knew that if she laughed right now, she would probably throw up. She still held her own burning cigarette, which, she noticed, was visibly shorter. It seemed to be going faster than the previous cigarettes she had smoked. She looked over at Portia, who was just taking another drag on her own cigarette. Louise scrutinised her carefully. She didn't look happy, but she also didn't cough. After a moment, she released a very decent stream of smoke through pursed lips. It looked very convincing. Despite herself, Louise was impressed; she decided to try once more with her own cigarette. Raising it to her lips, she deliberately took a deeper puff than she had previously, and felt the smoke filling her mouth. She then pulled it down into her lungs, and immediately felt as if she had received an electric shock. Her entire body was tingling, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Releasing her lungs, she exhaled a long cone of smoke. It looked good. She had now taken four drags on her cigarette. That was probably enough for a first attempt, she thought, and stubbed it out in the ashtray, alongside the other butts. She didn't think she could physically handle any more, and she just wanted the thing out of her hand. A moment later, Portia stubbed out her cigarette as well. Around the room, Louise saw other girls starting to give up on their own cigarettes. At least it isn't just us, she thought. Dr. Piper spoke up. "The first time is always the hardest," she assured them. "You'll find it will get easier as you practice." Anthea groaned and dropped her head onto the table. "Oh, please, just kill me now," she mumbled. Next to her, Michaela was actually still working at her cigarette. She exhaled a thick cloud of smoke through her nose and mouth, then patted Anthea on the shoulder, reassuringly. "Ladies, shall we take a break?" Dr. Piper asked. "I won't suggest a cigarette break, for obvious reasons." There was weak laughter from around the room. "We can take a non-smoking break," Dr. Piper continued, "for coffee and some fresh air." Both ideas sounded good to Louise. The air in the room was toxic with ambient cigarette smoke, and Louise's mouth was painfully dry. The idea of coffee sounded fantastic, and hopefully a bottle of water to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. She started to stand up, but her legs were suddenly shaky, and she realised she was still dizzy. She took a couple of deep breaths and pulled herself to her feet. Portia was also clearly having difficulty, and the two of them leaned on each other for support as they stumbled out of the room. Chapter 6 Beverly watched the girls shuffle out of the room with satisfaction. All of them were clearly feeling the effects of their first serious brush with nicotine, and several of them were swaying almost drunkenly as they went in search of coffee. She knew Tina would be waiting for them outside with refreshments, but she remained behind. Once the room was empty, she began gathering up the ashtrays and disposing of the many cigarette butts. Once the break was over, she would start introducing them to a few basic smoking techniques, and she didn't want any visible reminders of the number of cigarettes they were smoking. This was the crucial point in the project, she knew. Right now they were all overwhelmed by the negative reactions to their first `real' cigarettes. She could guess what they were talking about over their coffee: "Wasn't that disgusting?" "I feel sick!" "How can people do this to themselves!" She could practically write the dialogue herself. Her task over the next twenty-four hours was going to be persuading them to smoke just a few more cigarettes. After the break she would get them to "practice" once more, and then she would divide them into smaller groups and have them do some role-playing; feeding them some improv scenarios. The actors and drama students in the group would eat that up, she knew, and they would all be willing to smoke more if they weren't being themselves. The makeovers had made them all feel like strangers to themselves, but that wouldn't last; they would already be forming new self-images - new roles for themselves in this new environment. A bit of well-timed role-playing would throw them off balance yet again. She lit another cigarette of her own and sat for a moment, focusing on the - for her - familiar sensations of smoking. The tobacco companies were always so agitated by the ever-more restrictive government policies about cigarettes, but truthfully, they really didn't need to worry. Beverly would never say this aloud to a tobacco executive (never bite the hand that feeds you) but cigarettes really didn't need marketing; they were ludicrously easy to sell. She took another puff on her own cigarette, and enjoyed the feeling of the smoke passing into her lungs. Hell, she thought; they're addictive! They literally market themselves! The government could ban all tobacco advertising, they could ban smoking in public, they could mandate horrifying images on the packaging, and none of it would make any difference at all. Smokers were going to smoke, and they were going to continue to smoke because they had forgotten how to do anything else. And there was no way to "pretend" to smoke. If you smoke a cigarette, you are a smoker. It was just as simple as that, Beverly knew. Once you learn how to smoke, you forget how not to smoke. The reason smokers got so angry at the restrictions placed on them by society was not because it interfered with their personal liberty, or freedom of choice. The government could announce tomorrow that it was banning, say, brussels sprouts in public, and no one would give a damn. But smokers knew deep down that they had to smoke, because they were smokers. It was not freedom of choice, because there was no choice; that was the beauty of smoking. Once you start, it defines you, and that is who you are for the rest of your life. "I am Dr. Beverly Piper, smoker," she said aloud to the empty room. Outside that room, Tina was serving coffee to a group of twenty-two young women. And they were all smokers. They would realise that soon enough. |
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