Relationships of Convenience, Part 5

    This story contains adult language and themes. If such language and themes
offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by SSTORYMAN. All
rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story in any form and
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it.

    RELATIONSHIPS OF CONVENIENCE

    Part 5

    Brandi got home at three thirty. Mark had dropped her off a block from her
apartment, to make it look like she'd walked home. No sense spoiling the
surprise, Brandi decided.

    "Honey, I'm home," Brandi called out facetiously as she opened the door.

    "I'm in the living room," Aimee replied from inside.

    Brandi walked into the living room. Aimee sat in front of the TV watching
a movie. She said nothing as Brandi came in.

    "Did you have a good time shopping this morning?" Brandi asked innocently.

    "Oh, yeah," Aimee said absent-mindedly.

    "Where'd you go?" Brandi went on. "What did you buy?"

    "Oh, nothing," Aimee answered. "I just looked. It was very therapeutic,
though," she added with a smile. "It helped clear my head."

    After her chance meeting with Heather Sargent, Aimee had gone to lunch
alone. She sat in the smoking section and read a magazine while she smoked
half a pack of cigarettes. But she wasn't about to tell Brandi that part of
the story.

    "I'm glad," Brandi smiled. "Where did you say you went?"

    Aimee stared. Why was Brandi so interested? "To the mall," she lied.

    "And were you alone?" she pressed.

    "No, I was with Brad Pitt," Aimee replied sarcastically. "And we had sex
for several hours in the bedroom furnishings department of one of the
department stores. God! Of course I was alone. What do you think?"

    "Just asking," Brandi replied coolly. "You'll never guess who I ran into
today."

    "Brad Pitt?" Aimee said with irritation, still staring at the TV.

    "No," Brandi smiled. "Mark Sargent."

    WHAT?"

    "Don't get so excited," Brandi chided. "Mark is a freshman at the
University now. God, he is gorgeous! He's really grown up. I had lunch with
Bette Sanderson, and Mark is a friend of hers. I hope you don't mind, but I
invited Mark over for dinner tonight. You'll get a big kick out of seeing him
again."

    Aimee was surprised and horrified. She forgot to ask what happened to
Brandi's supposed lunch with George. "You invited Mark Sargent over for
dinner?" she asked slowly.

    "Sure. It's no big deal. Do you have plans tonight?"

    "Actually, I do," Aimee said nervously. "Bill called again. He's coming to
pick me up at six. We're going out to eat. I think he wants to kiss and make
up."

    "I'll bet he does," Brandi said serenely. "But that's no problem. Mark and
Heather are coming at five thirty. You'll have plenty of time to see them
before you go."

    "Heather is coming, too?" Aimee asked in stunned disbelief. The anxiety in
her voice was evident. It had been over an hour and a half since her last
cigarette. This unexpected crisis was accelerating her desire for another. She
began to nervously play with her hair.

    "Yeah, isn't that great?" Brandi said pleasantly. "Mark said he'd bring
his sister. Can you believe it? Heather Sargent is fifteen years old, a
freshman in high school. I was delighted Mark suggested he bring both Heather
and his mom along."

    "Judy Sargent is coming, too?" Aimee was reeling now.

    "Yes, but don't worry. You don't have to do anything except say hello. Go
ahead and have dinner with Bill. After all, I set this up. You don't have to
stay. I'm just happy you'll be here to say hello when they arrive. It's so
ironic. I hadn't thought about them in years, and then you mentioned Judy the
other night. Now imagine me running into Mark. Weird, huh?"

    "Uh, yeah," Aimee nodded.

    Brandi looked closely at her sister. Small beads of sweat were forming on
Aimee's brow. It was hot in the apartment. But Brandi knew this was not from
the heat.

    Aimee's mind raced as Brandi walked into the kitchen. How could she get
out of this? Should she try to get out of it? Maybe she should just let nature
take its course. At least she would no longer have to hide. But she'd wanted a
more orderly discussion with Brandi about smoking. That, Aimee realized, had
gone up in smoke.

    "Oh, one more thing," Brandi said, returning to the living room. She
enjoyed seeing her sister squirm. "Bette Sanderson is coming, too. After all,
she's a good friend of Mark's. She might invite your friend Paige, too."

    "What?" The intensity in Aimee's voice reached fever pitch.

    "I know, I know," Brandi said with a reassuring smile. "Both Bette and
Paige smoke. Judy Sargent smokes, too. In fact, so does Mark. But at least
Heather is only 15. I'm sure she doesn't smoke." She was playing this for all
it was worth. "Don't worry. I won't let any of them smoke in the apartment. I
know how much you hate the smell of stale cigarette smoke."

    Before Aimee could answer, Brandi disappeared again into the kitchen. "I'm
going to get things ready," she yelled into the living room.

    Aimee was frantic. Her goose was cooked. Her secret would come out. Even
if she could leave before the Sargents and the Sandersons arrived, Brandi
would find out the truth.

    Aimee took a deep breath. She'd dreaded this. Frozen in front of the TV,
she frantically threaded strands of hair between her fingers. God, she could
use a cigarette! The irony was not lost on her. She needed a cigarette to help
her calm down so she could talk to her little sister about smoking.

    Various scenarios ran through Aimee's mind. Maybe she'd just tell Brandi
the truth. Maybe she wouldn't be too upset. Or maybe she should just leave
before they arrived. But the truth would come out. At least she wouldn't be
here when it did. Or maybe É. God, she wanted a cigarette! Her head hurt just
thinking about the alternatives.

    She decided to just talk to Brandi. Even though she wasn't prepared, it
had to be done. Scared or not, she needed to talk to her sister before the
guests arrived.

    Aimee walked into the kitchen, but Brandi wasn't there. "Odd," Aimee
thought. "She said she was going to get things ready." She turned and walked
toward the front door.

    Brandi was standing in the townhouse entranceway. In her mouth were two
cigarettes, both unlit. She had a smile on her face. Aimee looked at her, but
couldn't comprehend what she saw. She froze, saying nothing. Brandi had
counted on that reaction.

    Brandi smiled and slowly raised a lighter. She lit both cigarettes,
puffing on them simultaneously, making sure both were properly lit. A small
cloud of smoke escaped from the corner of her mouth. She removed the two
cigarettes, and smiled as she exhaled.

    "Would you like one of these, Aimee?" she purred. Her sister said nothing,
still frozen in disbelief. "Here, take it," Brandi urged, holding out her
fingers with one of the burning cigarettes. "You look like you could use a
smoke!"

    Suddenly Aimee realized she'd been had. But she obediently reached for the
cigarette. "How did you know É?" she stammered as she took it between her own
fingers.

    "Hush," whispered Brandi. "Just smoke for me, Aimee. Take several nice,
long drags. Pull some smoke into your lungs. Then you'll feel better, and
we'll talk. Okay?"

    Like a robot, Aimee did as instructed. She put the cigarette in her mouth.
She was too excited not to. It was a Salem, not one of her Marlboros, but she
didn't care. It was tobacco, nicotine. She took a long, hard drag. It was
wonderful! She inhaled the smoke into her lungs and held it. It felt so good!

    "Oh, God," Aimee gasped, refusing to let any smoke escape and holding it
all inside her lungs. "Oh, Jesus." After letting it soak in, she finally
relented and tipped her head back, letting herself exhale a long, luxurious
stream of milky white smoke into the air.

    "But Brandi, I though you didn't É." she began.

    "Shh," Brandi repeated. "Just smoke, Sis. Right now I want to see you
smoke. We'll talk in a minute. Take another few drags."

    Aimee did just that. She pleasured herself with another long drag. She
hadn't realized how much she needed the nicotine. But Brandi seemed to know.
How?

    "Feeling better?" Brandi smiled, exhaling smoke of her own. She held a
large glass ashtray and a pack of Salem Light 100's. "Let's go talk in the
living room. I have lots to tell you, and you have some explaining to do, too.
I'm sure we'll smoke three or four cigarettes together before we're done." She
winked at Aimee. "You might want to get your own Marlboro Lights 100's."

    Laughing incredulously, Aimee followed her little sister into the living
room. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. But she didn't care. She loved
it!

   
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    The room was full. As often happens when smokers gather and no non-smokers
are present, everyone smokes more. If one person lights a cigarette, everyone
does, too. Today, Judy Sargent quickly established herself as the party's
trend setter. She chained from the minute she arrived. A petite woman in her
early forties with a wiry build, Judy was quite attractive, sporting short
brown hair and a pleasant face. She smoked with both style and grace.

    Judy motioned to Aimee, who was happily situated next to Paige on the
couch. Aimee held a long white cigarette. Her wrist was cocked just right.
From the tip of her cigarette the smoke curled upward, where it merged with a
thickening cloud of smoke from cigarettes being smoked by the others in the
room.

    "Aimee, let me get this. You decided to try smoking because you wanted to
convince Brandi to try it?" she asked, pausing to take a drag on her Merit
100. "But you didn't know Brandi already smoked? And you quickly found you
liked it, too?" she added with a kind smile.

    "Yeah," Aimee answered, exhaling two streams of smoke from her nostrils.
"I never guessed I'd like it so much, or that I'd get hooked so quickly and
easily. It happened so fast!" She went on, smiling at her blond friend on the
couch next to her. "Paige says I must have unusual body chemistry. Most people
don't get hooked so fast. But from the beginning I loved it. I can't stop
smoking. Or maybe I just don't want to."

    Judy nodded. "I can relate. When I started, I never wanted to stop. Maybe
it was because I was so dependent on alcohol, and I needed something to take
its place. Whatever the reason, I've said before that cigarette smoking saved
my life. God knows where I'd be today if I didn't have nicotine!" she
shuddered.

    "So you have no regrets?" Brandi asked. She sat on the fireplace next to
Bette.

    "I have a few," Judy admitted. "I know smoking isn't good for me. But at
least now I have a life. I never did before. I was always intoxicated.. But
now I don't need to drink to make it through the day. I can smoke instead.
That's a relief, and a great feeling."

    She looked at her children. Mark was in a chair, Heather was on the floor,
and both were smoking. "I sometimes wonder if I've ruined my kids by setting a
bad example," she admitted. "But the thing is, unlike alcohol, smoking doesn't
impair your faculties. You can still think and deal with life. You still see
things clearly. As you know, some research indicates that smokers actually
have better brain function than non-smokers." She smiled and took a long drag
on her cigarette. "Anyway, smoking is fun, " she giggled. "I simply enjoy it.
Maybe Mark and Heather smoke too much. But I'd rather have them smoking than
doing a lot of other things."

    Bette sat beside Brandi on the fireplace. She, too, was smoking. "But in
addition to being pleasurable, don't you think smoking has some other
advantages?" she asked. "For example, Brandi needs to control her eating.
Smoking helps. I find smoking is also a great way to relax, to relieve stress.
People sometimes overlook the positives of smoking because they're so fixated
on the health issues."

    "I agree," Judy smiled. "You kids all know I love to smoke. I won't deny
it. I also won't deny there are legitimate health issues connected with
smoking. All I'm saying is that people weigh those issues differently. I'm not
suggesting someone can't come to a different conclusion. I'm only saying that
people must be allowed to make the decision for themselves. For me, I have no
problem letting my kids smoke if they enjoy it." Judy smiled at her daughter,
who was in the midst of a long drag on a quickly shrinking Merit 100. "And I
don't think there's any question they enjoy it, is there?"

    "No question, Mom," Heather grinned. She expelled a thin stream of
blue-gray smoke into the air from her young lips. "We appreciate you letting
us decide for ourselves."

    "I have a different perspective," Katarina interrupted. No longer in her
waitress uniform, she wore a stylish gold lame top and blue jeans. Her dark
features and jet black hair were accented by dangling gold earrings. She
looked stunning.

    "If you know me, you know that I also love to smoke," Katarina said
forcefully, her accent underlining the intensity of her conviction. Like Judy,
she'd chain-smoked since she arrived at the party. "But I believe it is wrong
for the government to tell people what they should or should not enjoy, or
where they may enjoy it, for that matter. Call me an anarchist, but I believe
the current anti-smoking campaign is largely an undermining of the pursuit of
pleasure and represents a puritanism which is completely contrary to the
ideals of a free society."

    "Wow," Heather teased. "You lost me, Katarina. I got the part about you
loving to smoke. But after that, it was over my head!"

    Aimee sat back and smiled. She enjoyed these people. Talking about smoking
was almost as much fun as the smoking itself. She'd never experienced the
camaraderie of a group of smokers. But she loved it.

    The lively discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aimee jumped
up and looked at her watch. It was almost six o' clock. "Oh, my God," she
gasped. "It's Bill. I totally forgot to call him. I was going to cancel." She
looked around the room. "I'd rather stay here and hang with you guys," she
added with a smile as she took a drag on her cigarette.

    "That was the back door," Brandi pointed out. "Why would Bill be at the
back door?"

    Aimee went to the back door and opened it as she exhaled. George McDermott
stood there with a smile on his face. He wore a swim suit and a tee-shirt. The
eyes of every female in the room were immediately drawn to his impressive
physique and hairy chest.

    "Hi, Aimee," George smiled. "I guessed you were having a party. While I
was out walking my dog I saw clouds of smoke pouring from the window. I
figured Brandi must have confessed she was a smoker." He eyed the cigarette
between Aimee's fingers and saw the residual smoke continuing to escape from
her lips . "She must have converted you, too, Aimee."

    "Hi, George," Aimee replied. She held her cigarette in the air and smiled.
"Yeah, I'm smoking, too. We're all just sitting around smoking before dinner."
She eyed him carefully. He was cute. "Would you care to join us?"

    "I'd love to," George replied, stepping inside. "There's no company I
prefer more than a room full of beautiful women smoking." He looked at Mark,
the only man present. "Perhaps you'd rather I not join you, young man. You've
got a good thing going here."

    "C'mon in," Brandi smiled. "Hey, everybody, this is our next door
neighbor, George McDermott. He doesn't smoke cigarettes," she added
mischievously. "Or so he claims."

    "I don't _buy" cigarettes," George clarified, grinning from ear to ear as
he looked for a place to sit. "I just shamelessly bum them from my friends."

    Pushing Paige aside, Aimee made room on the couch. She motioned to George
to sit beside her. "Well, you'll have no trouble finding people to bum from
here. Want one of mine?"

    "Thank you, doll," George smiled, accepting a Marlboro Light 100. "Don't
mind if I do."

    George seemed quite happy sitting between two beautiful blonds. Both Paige
and Aimee flirted with him as the discussion continued.

    Shortly after six o'clock, there was a second interruption. This time it
was the doorbell. "Oh, God," Aimee complained bitterly. "It will be Bill for
sure. I meant to call his car phone to tell him not to come. But I got
distracted," she smiled, winking at George. Without thinking, she rose,
freshly lit cigarette in hand, and headed for the door.

    The first thing Bill beheld as the door opened was Aimee with a long
cigarette between her fingers. He looked surprised. "Are you ready to go?" he
asked. Stepping inside, he saw the large group assembled in the living room.
"Are you having a party?" he asked slowly.

    "Oh, Brandi invited some friends over," Aimee explained. "Let me introduce
you. Everyone, this is my friend, Bill Weathers."

    As she introduced Bill, Aimee counted the number of cigarettes burning in
the room. Everyone was smoking except Mark and Katarina. But by the time the
introductions were concluded, Katarina had another Kool perched between her
lips, and Mark was lighting another Merit. The air was thick with smoke. It
was obviously a smoker's gathering.

    "Well," Bill said, looking at Aimee. "Obviously this smoking thing has
gotten out of hand." He smiled coolly at the others in the room. "If ever
there was a reason not to smoke, this would be it."

    "Why do you say that, Bill?" Aimee asked curtly. She was pissed by his
flip remark.

    "I'm not attracted to anything that puts me in harm's way like this," he
replied rudely.

    "Bill," Aimee said sweetly. "Today you said you'd do anything to get me
back. But I told you, I'm a smoker now. Not a social smoker; a serious
smoker," she laughed. "Didn't it occur to you that I might impose some
conditions on re-starting our relationship? You're going to have to deal with
smoke. These people are my friends. Do you have a problem with that?"

    Bill was uncomfortable. It was his turn to be pissed. He obviously didn't
want to negotiate with Aimee in front of a room-full of people; especially a
room-full of smokers.

    "When I said I'd do anything, I meant I'd be willing to talk about your
smoking," he explained unemotionally. "I didn't mean I would approve. But I
might be willing to tolerate it." He paused. "Under certain circumstances."

    "Bill," Aimee purred. "What if I asked you to try smoking? I really think
you'd like it. What if I said I wanted you to smoke a few cigarettes and give
smoking a fair trial?"

    "I'd tell you that you're living in a dream world - or maybe in a
nightmare."

    Aimee's temper heated up. "Look, Bill! If anyone goes out with me, he's
going out with a smoker. From now on, I'll be smoking constantly. My boyfriend
will be reminded that I smoke all the time, because I'll be smoking whenever
we're together. My hair and my clothes will smell of smoke. My car and my
apartment will smell of smoke. If he goes out with me, he'll taste smoke every
time we kiss, because I plan to have a lit cigarette in my hand almost all the
time. In other words, Bill, if he doesn't like smoke, he won't be very happy."
She took a drag and exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. "I'm a smoker now,
Bill. If smoking isn't okay with you, then let's end it right here."

    "Can't we talk about this É somewhere else?" he asked awkwardly.

    "No," Aimee replied sharply, going for the jugular. "I need to know now
whether you accept me as a smoker. I'd like you to start smoking yourself. But
at least I must know that you accept me as a smoker. Because that's what I
am." She waited for his answer. "Well?"

    Bill said nothing. He just stared at her in anger and disbelief.

    "Let's not waste our time," she said in response to his silence. She
opened the front door. "Bill, I think you should leave. Goodbye. For good,
this time."

    He turned and walked toward the door. He paused, and motioned with his
hand to the entire room. "You're all crazy," he announced in a loud voice. "I
don't know what in the hell's wrong with you people. This isn't the real world
anymore, you know. No one smokes anymore. No one. It's passŽ. It's no longer
considered cool. It's totally out." He looked at Aimee. "Someday you'll come
back to me, Aimee. You'll beg me to take you back. I'll be waiting."

    "Bill, I said it before and I'll say it again. Go fuck yourself!" And she
slammed the door.

    She returned and sat down beside George. Spontaneous applause arose from
the entire room. Aimee tapped some ashes into the ashtray, took a long drag on
her cigarette, and then exhaled a furious cloud of smoke into the air.
"Asshole," she muttered.

    "Well," Brandi said, sensing that something needed to be said. "I guess
that's that. Does anyone want to eat?"

    "Let me say something," Judy interrupted. "Bill just accused us of
something. We shouldn't let his accusation go unanswered. He said smoking is
passŽ, that it's not cool anymore." She looked around the room. "That's not
true. Smoking will always be cool as long as cool people are smokers. We need
to make sure that people see us as those who are more with it and more on top
of things than anyone else around them. Smoking will always be considered cool
as long as smokers are cool people. "She smiled. "Looking around at the people
in this room, I think we've got a damn good shot at proving Bill to be
flat-ass wrong!"

    Brandi stood up. With her wrist cocked, her hand was beside her head,
holding a freshly lit cigarette. "I agree," she said. "Let's get started on
dinner."

    With that, the conversation resumed. George and Aimee stepped outside to
fire up the charcoal grill on the back stoop. Aimee was sure it was not just
her imagination; George seemed quite interested in her company. And she was
quite interested in his, and in his cute ass. She smiled to herself. Bill was
gone, but maybe this would be the beginning of a new relationship of
convenienceÉ.

   
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    "Are you going out again?" Aimee asked. "You've seen Mark every night for
the last two weeks."

    "Yeah," Brandi replied. "Tonight we're going to a movie and then back to
his house."

    "Listen," Aimee admonished. "Don't pull the same stupid stunt you pulled
last night. When you stay all night, take your insulin. You need your evening
insulin shot. Just because you're getting laid, you can't ignore your
diabetes."

    "You're right. I shouldn't be embarrassed about taking my insulin shots.
I'll take the insulin with me tonight." Brandi took two vials of insulin from
the refrigerator. Together with a disposable syringe and an alcohol swab, she
deposited the insulin vials in her purse next to two packs of Salem Light
100's.

    Aimee noticed the supply of cigarettes. "Planning on staying awhile, are
we?" she teased.

    "I don't want to run out," Brandi explained apologetically. "I don't like
Mark's Merits. They're not menthol."

    Aimee had finished preparing dinner. It was leftover spaghetti. She put
two place mats on the kitchen table.

    "Oh, I'm eating with Mark," Brandi said. "I'm sorry. I should've told
you."

    Aimee sat down and looked at her sister. "God, this is getting serious,"
she smiled. "Dinner with the family. But you really like him, don't you?"

    Aimee absent-mindedly shook out a cigarette from her ever-present pack and
lit up while waiting for Brandi to reply. It had become second nature. A quick
burst of smoke erupted from around the cigarette dangling in her lips.

    "Yeah," Brandi admitted, staring longingly at Aimee's cigarette. "I think
I'm in love. This is not a relationship of convenience, to coin a phrase," she
added with a smile.

    Aimee double pumped and drew the smoke into her lungs. The ashtray on the
table was full of her cigarette butts.

    "You're going through those things pretty fast," Brandi commented. "How
much _are_ you smoking these days, Aimee?"

    "God, I don't know," Aimee admitted. Tipping her head, she blew a long
stream of blue-white smoke into the air. Small amounts of nostril leakage
complemented the torrent of smoke from her lips. "It's like I can't get
enough," she went on. "I smoked almost two packs yesterday. I opened this one
at lunch today; it's almost empty. Tonight George will come over again, which
means I'll smoke constantly all evening." She shrugged. "I'm averaging about
two packs a day, I guess. How about you?"

    Brandi wiggled her fingers and reached for her sister's cigarette. She
wanted a hit before answering. Aimee handed the cigarette over without
comment. Brandi took a quick drag and handed it back. "I'm smoking about a
pack a day, maybe more," she admitted as she held the smoke inside. "Whenever
Mark and I are together, it's a lot more. We smoke constantly," she laughed,
finally exhaling. "But the more I smoke, the more I enjoy it. Maybe I should
be ashamed, but I do love to smoke."

    "I understand," Aimee nodded, taking another drag. "Me, too. It really
surprised me."

    Brandi wanted another hit. She reached for Aimee's cigarette again.
"You're seriously hooked," Brandi kidded as she took a second drag. "This
didn't turn out to be a relationship of convenience, did it?" She offered the
shared cigarette back to her sister as she exhaled.

    Aimee accepted it back, taking another long drag of her own. "No," she
admitted. "At first I thought I'd smoke the way I related to Bill. You know? I
fucked Bill when I wanted. There was no commitment. But these things," she
smiled, looking at the cigarette between her fingers and shaking her head.
"God, these things fuck me all day long!"

    "Are you upset about it?"

    "Hell, no. I love being fucked," she laughed. "I don't ever want to stop
smoking. I don't think I could, even if I did want to. This is no relationship
of convenience. It's a relationship of necessity. I'll probably smoke 'til the
day I die." She shrugged. "But at least I'll die happy," she added, echoing an
earlier remark of Brandi's.

    Aimee took another long drag, followed by another inhale. "At the rate I'm
going, that day may be sooner rather than later!" she giggled, as smoke
escaped in machine-gun like fashion.

    Brandi nodded. "I know," she agreed. She could no longer bear watching her
sister enjoy a cigarette without her. She opened her purse and removed her
pack of Salems. Tearing it open, she lit a cigarette of her own. "Watching you
smoke is more than I can stand," she admitted. "That's why I smoke so much at
Mark's. Between his mother, his step-father, his little sister and Mark
himself, someone is always lighting up." She took a quick drag. "I can't help
it. I always light up, too."

    The two sisters smoked together in silence. Like twin blond towers, they
sent repeated plumes of smoke into the air, repeating a ritual of sucking,
inhaling and exhaling the smoke until the air in the kitchen became hazy.

    "Hey, Aimee," Brandi finally asked. "What's up with you and George?"

    Aimee smiled. "Unlike _this_ relationship," she said, looking at her
cigarette, "my relationship with George _is_ a only relationship of
convenience. But I like him. He's fun. Plus, he goes ape when I smoke for him.
It turns him on, I guess. I like being able to drive him crazy." She paused
for a hit on her Marlboro. "But it's just fun. There's no commitment."

    Brandi smiled. "You've been with George as much as I'm with Mark. I like
George more than I liked Bill. Frankly, it wouldn't bother me if it turned
into something serious."

    "Maybe it will," Aimee admitted. "We'll see. I do enjoy being with him.
Who knows? Maybe George will turn out to be habit forming. Just like smoking,"
she added, with a grin.

    Brandi finally left, and Aimee starting to eat dinner. She took her first
bite and, while chewing, noticed her pack of cigarettes on the table. They
looked so inviting sitting there.

    With food in her mouth, she reached for her pack and removed a cigarette.
She put the cigarette between her lips while she finished chewing. Without
hesitation, she flicked her lighter. Cigarette smoke filled her mouth, mixing
with the taste of oregano and spaghetti sauce.

    She took another drag and inhaled, and then put a second bite of spaghetti
in her mouth. As she chewed, she allowed smoke to escape from her nostrils.
"God, I love this," she thought. "I'd be embarrassed if anyone knew about
this, but I even love to smoke while I eat."

    Aimee thought about everything that had happened since that fateful night
two weeks earlier. Brandi was smoking. Her blood sugar tests showed marked
improvement. Her diabetes was under good control. And Brandi seemed happy!

    Aimee had made several new friends. George was a breath of fresh air -
well, maybe a breath of smoky air - compared to Bill. It was a much better
relationship. The most important thing, however, was that Aimee Johnston was
now a smoker.

    She took another bite and followed it immediately with a hit on her
cigarette. Yes, she was a smoker. Her relationship with George might last
another few weeks, maybe even a month or two. But eventually it would probably
end. The one thing that wouldn't end was her new relationship with her
cigarettes. This was a classic mutual admiration society. She loved them, and
they loved her to love them.

    Aimee took a long, purposeful drag and sucked the smoke into the inner
recesses of her young lungs. She smiled, watching smoke drift up from the
burning end of the cigarette. The smoke in her lungs felt so damn good!
Reluctantly, she slowly expelled the smoky contents in successive short
nostril bursts, watching with amusement as smoke drifted in front of her face.
Yes, she was a smoker. This was no relationship of convenience. It was a
relationship of necessity. This relationship, she knew, would last a lifetime.

    THE END

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