Cross Cultural Experience, Part 2

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such language
and themes offend you, please do not read further.  Copyright 2000 by
SSTORYMAN.  All rights reserved.  Permission is granted to reproduce this
story in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced
and no financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the
person reproducing it.  Thanks to AZ-MAN and STOGIE-MAN for their support,
ideas and encouragement.

CROSS CULTURAL EXPERIENCE 

2.	Welcome to My World.

   Lauren Martin was desperate to find a way to ingratiate herself to her
smoking Italian exchange student roommate.  Unless she did something, she'd
lose Giorgia's friendship.  Learning to smoke was the obvious answer, but it
proved too difficult.  What else could she do?

   Thanksgiving vacation was in two weeks.  Giorgia had nowhere to go for the
holiday weekend.  So Lauren asked her folks if she could invite her Italian
roommate home.  They agreed.  She then told her parents Giorgia smoked.
"She's sweet," she explained carefully.  "But she has to smoke or she goes
crazy.  She's European, you know.  Everyone in Italy smokes."

   Her parents were uncomfortable having a smoker in the house for the long
weekend.  But they agreed Giorgia could stay in the extra bedroom in the
basement and smoke there, or on the screen porch.  "I can sell that to
Giorgia," Lauren decided.  She asked Giorgia to join her family for
Thanksgiving break.  Giorgia happily agreed.

   This was the edge Lauren wanted.  They'd have four days together alone.
She relished the opportunity.  It was her big chance.  She could deepen their
friendship and overcome Giorgia's competing relationships with her various
smoking friends, Steve, Brigit and Libby.

   For her part, Giorgia had reservations about visiting Lauren's home.  The
smoking situation worried her.  Lauren said she could smoke in the basement
or on the porch, but she didn't want to be a second class citizen for four
days in a house full of non-smokers.  But she thought maybe she could use the
situation to her advantage.  Before implementing the plan hatching in her
conniving Italian mind, Giorgia had some questions to ask.

   "Lauren, I assume your parents do not smoke.  But did they once?  Did
either your mom or dad ever smoke?"

   Lauren frowned.  "Yeah, my mom used to.  But she smoked, like, years ago,
before I was born.  She quit long ago."

   Giorgia nodded.  "And your father?  Did he ever smoke?"

   Lauren signaled in the affirmative.  "Yes, my dad smoked cigars.  He loved
'em.  In the old days he used to take my brother and me to baseball games.
He'd smoke a couple cigars during a game.  He said baseball stadiums were the
best place to enjoy a good cigar."  She got quiet.  "But our town's minor
league stadium made all seats non-smoking.  Dad never went back.  He said the
smoking ban ruined the experience.  My mom was delighted.  She hated his
cigars."

   "Does he still smoke cigars ever?"

   Lauren laughed.  "Not that I know of.  Why are you so interested?  I told
you.  It's okay if you smoke in the basement or the back porch.  Relax."

   "I _am_ relaxed," Giorgia smiled.  "But smoking is important to me.  I
must know the feelings of your parents before I visit."  She was careful not
to tip Lauren off to her devious plan.  "I don't want to alienate them by
things I say and do," she explained casually.

   "That's considerate.  But as for your last question, the answer is, I
don't know.  Dad's very private.  If he still smokes his cigars, he never
says so.  But it wouldn't surprise me.  He rarely tells us about his
activities."

   Giorgia nodded.  It was better than she hoped.  "I am looking forward to
meeting your family.  I'm glad they'll let me smoke in some parts of your
house, even if that isn't their custom."

   Lauren sighed.  "They'll be delighted to host you for that weekend.  So
will I."

   The Martins lived in the next state, four hours away.  The roommates left
the afternoon before Thanksgiving, expecting to arrive mid-evening.  It was
unseasonably warm, and Lauren drove with the windows down.  She was glad for
the warm weather, because she agreed Giorgia could smoke during the drive.
It wasn't that the smell of smoke bothered her.  It didn't, not anymore.  But
she still didn't want to be completely closed up in a small space filled with
smoke.

   Then it began to rain, and they rolled up the windows.  The storm was
fierce.  Lauren slowed the car to a crawl to maneuver on the rainy highway.
Within a few minutes, Giorgia lit up another cigarette.  With the windows
shut, smoke pervaded the car's interior.  But Lauren held her tongue.  We
have an agreement, she reminded herself.  There was no exception for
inclement weather.  So she braced herself for the discomfort sure to follow.

   Surprisingly, it never came.  The smoky car didn't bother her.  She almost
enjoyed it.  The smell of smoke saturating the passenger compartment was
surprisingly pleasant.  Thick smoke hung in the damp air like vapor.  It was
almost as if Lauren herself was smoking, by breathing in the smoke-thickened
air in her enclosed car.

   Giorgia realized what she was doing to Lauren.  She offered to crack the
window, even though it was raining.  "Nonsense," Lauren laughed.  "It doesn't
bother me.  Don't let the rain in.  Leave the window closed.  Don't worry
about me.  Keep smoking if you want.  I'm fine."

   But she was more than fine.  She felt strangely energized by the thick,
smoky air swirling around inside the car; and the more Giorgia smoked, the
better she liked it.  Breathing in the dense, smoky haze was downright
pleasant.  It was exhilarating.  Maybe it was knowing she'd have Giorgia all
to herself for four days.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the cigarette smoke
itself.  Whatever the reason, she enjoyed being forced to breath her lovely
roommate's second-hand smoke, though she wasn't about to admit that to
Giorgia.

   Giorgia, too, was glad; glad to get away from campus.  And the ride was a
delight!  The dense, smoky air in the closed car affected her the same way.
She loved smoke-filled rooms.  She always had.  Breathing tobacco smoke with
every breath stimulated her, and ironically it made her want to smoke even
more.  After finishing one cigarette, she gingerly lit up another.  She felt
guilty.  The windows were all still closed.  She glanced at Lauren.

   "Are you sure this will not bother you?"  She asked after lighting up a
second consecutive cigarette.  Smoke burst in torrents from her mouth as she
spoke.  Glare from oncoming headlights made the exhaled smoke glisten in the
air.

   Lauren smiled and shook her head.  "No, I told you, I'm fine.  I'm used to
being around your cigarettes, Giorgia.  A year ago, being in a closed car
with a smoker would've driven me nuts.  But not anymore.  Oh, I still notice
it, but it doesn't bother me.  Not in the least."

   Giorgia smiled.  That _was_ a good sign.  She decided to ask Lauren about
the episode Brigit told her about, to learn if her roommate was progressing
toward being a smoker.

   "Brigit said you were experimenting with smoking, Lauren.  Remember that
night she heard you coughing?  She smelled smoke when she opened the door.
Were you smoking?"

   Lauren flushed.  "Damn," she exclaimed.  "Yeah, Brigit heard me coughing
my head off.  I smoked one of your cigarettes.  You and Brigit and Libby had
told me how great it is.  I thought I'd check it out."

   "And?"

   Lauren frowned.  "I coughed till I thought I'd die.  It wasn't as much fun
as you said.  It was no fun at all.  I don't think I'm cut out to be a
smoker.  It isn't meant to be."

   Giorgia gently replied.  "I don't know.  But if it was difficult for you,
there's another explanation."  She realized now why Lauren showed absolutely
no inclination to smoke.  "But I can explain it.  I'd love to teach you to
smoke, Lauren, if you would like to try again."

   Lauren sighed tentatively.  "I'll think about it."  The thick vapor in
the air made the offer enticing.  But she shook her head.  "I know you want
me to smoke, Giorgia.  It's obvious.  But I worry what my family would say.
Smoking created a rift between Brigit and her parents.  I don't want that to
happen to me."

   "I never had such a problem," Giorgia sighed happily.  Thoughtfully she
drew on her cigarette.  After inhaling, she slowly released a creamy exhale
into the already saturated air.  "You see, my parents and brothers smoked
before I started.  Everyone in my family smokes.  They always have.  My
little sister Federica is thirteen, and now even she smokes a little.  Soon
Federica will smoke all the time, like me.  In my country, you see, it is
different.  In Italy there are not such negative feelings about smoking as
you have in this country.  Here, if someone smokes, they are criticized by
total strangers.  I was shocked the first time that happened to me."

   Lauren was troubled by the bitterness in Giorgia's voice.  "Tell me about
it."

   The Italian related the unfortunate incident at O'Hare Airport her first
day in the United States.  Lauren was shocked.  "God, I'm so sorry," she
frowned, hearing how Giorgia was screamed at.  "That guy must have been off
his Prozac," she added sarcastically.  "You should've told him to mind his
own damn business."

   "That is what frightened me.  He believed my business _was_ his business.
He took responsibility to lecture me, harangue me, about smoking.  He treated
me like a fool because I was smoking a cigarette.  But that's not the only
time it happened.  On campus many times I am accosted by non-smokers who say
cruel and hurtful things.  I do not understand.  What causes people in your
country to act that way?"

   "God, I don't know," Lauren confessed.  She knew people sometimes
disparaged smokers to their faces, with language inappropriate in any other
context.  It happened, but she couldn't defend it.  "I'm so sorry," she
repeated.  "Americans should learn more respect for others.  Self-righteous
moralizing is disgusting."

   "Yes, it is," Giorgia agreed.  "I understand why people in your country
decide not to smoke, Lauren.  The things smokers must put up with here are
terrible!  I see why you might decide not to join in."  She grinned
mischievously.  "But there is one reason you should still consider it.  It is
a wonderful habit.  If I were you, I would still smoke anyway.  It is too
much fun to miss.  I only wish smokers here would stand up for their rights.
In Italy, belligerent non-smokers do not survive.  Smokers in my country are
belligerent in return.  That surprises me in America.  Smokers here roll over
and just take it, as you say.  Even Brigit and Libby are afraid when it
happens.  But in my country, we fight in the street if such things happen to
us!"

   They drove in silence awhile.  Giorgia wanted to press Lauren.  But she
decided it was prudent to await a more opportune time.  Instead she lit up
another cigarette in the smoky car and sucked more of the delicious substance
deep inside her lungs.  As more nicotine directly entered her receptive body,
she smiled.  Unknown to Lauren, she'd made plans for the weekend.  If all
went well, her roommate might decide to smoke after all.

   The girls arrived at the Martin residence a little after nine o'clock.
Approaching the front door of the large, two story house, they were greeted
by Lauren's father and mother.

   "Hi, honey," greeted her mother.  "Welcome home!"

   "Hi, Mom," said Lauren, giving her mother a hug.  "It's good to be here.
God, we had to drive through an absolute monsoon to get here!"

   "You look beat," her father observed, also hugging his daughter.  "Come
have something to drink."  He smiled at the lovely Italian.  "You must be
Giorgia," he said warmly.  "Welcome."

   "Thank you, Mr. Martin," Giorgia said with a big smile, shaking the older
man's hand.  "It was kind of you to invite me to spend the holiday weekend at
your home."

   "The pleasure is ours," Lauren's mother said.  "Please.  Call me Cindy,
and call Lauren's dad Tom.  We prefer to be on a first name basis."

   "Thank you," Giorgia grinned.  "Cindy," she said aloud, as if to practice.

   "You go inside and get settled," Mr. Martin suggested.  "I'll get the
suitcases from the back seat.  We'll be right in to join you."

   Stretching their muscles after the car trip, they entered the front door.
Lauren led the way.  Once the girls were inside, Cindy Martin sidled up to
her husband as he opened the door to remove two suitcases.  "Tom, I can't
believe the stench of smoke on Lauren!  And look at the cigarette butts in
the ashtray in her car.  Lauren said that Giorgia smokes.  But my God!  The
Italian girl must smoke like a damn chimney!  I can't imagine how Lauren puts
up with it!"

   "Yeah," Tom replied with a wry grin.  "I smelled it from ten feet away.
But Lauren warned us.  Don't worry.  It's only a few days.  We can air out
the basement as soon as Giorgia leaves Sunday night."

   "I guess," Cindy sighed.  She helped him carry Giorgia's large bag in the
house.  "God, this girl must have bricks in her suitcase," she complained.
"What has she got in here?"

   Tom Martin stopped and gave her 'the look.'  "Relax, Cindy.  She's our
guest.  She's from a foreign country, for God's sake.  Try to make her
comfortable.  This may be her first and only experience in an American home.
Let's make it a positive one.  Okay?"

   "Okay," Cindy sighed with a remaining frown.  "But I don't like it."

   They gathered in the living room.  Lauren's father took Giorgia's suitcase
to the basement and carried Lauren's to her room on the second floor.  Cindy
had a pot of decaf ready.

   Giorgia sized up her hosts.  Tom Martin was tall, over six feet, with
short brown hair and a slim, athletic build.  He looked to be in his
mid-forties.  He wore a burgundy golf shirt, casual slacks and loafers.  He
seemed an easy-going sort, someone who wouldn't 'sweat the details' as the
American expression goes.

   She had a different impression of Lauren's mom.  Cindy Martin seemed
tense.  She was five seven, like Lauren, but unlike her daughter, Cindy was
twenty pounds too heavy.  Her face was pretty, and her hair dirty blond,
short and curly.  Except for her weight, she'd have been a very comely
woman.  Even so, she was attractive in a Rubenesque sort of way.  She wore a
plain oxford cloth shirt untucked, and black stretch pants which sadly drew
undue attention to her large hips.  'Easy going' was not a phrase that came
to mind as Giorgia watched her restlessly serve coffee.  She seemed
exceedingly tense.  It was just the presence of a houseguest, Giorgia hoped.

   "We're so glad you're here," Lauren's father said, before being
interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.  "Oh, good.  Jim's home,
too."

   It was Lauren's younger brother.  A strapping young man, several inches
taller than Tom, strode in the room.  Jim was a high school senior.  He gave
his sister an affectionate kiss on the cheek.  "Welcome home, Sis," he
smiled.  "Hey, who is _this_?"  He held out his hand to Giorgia.  "Hi, I'm
Jim Martin, Lauren's little brother.  No one said my sister was bringing home
a fashion model for Thanksgiving."

   Giorgia blushed.  "I am Giorgia Follone," she said, taking Jim's hand and
shaking it.  "I am Lauren's roommate from Italy."

   "Hey, everyone, check out the accent," he winked.  "Giorgia, you're as
cute as can be.  And you speak English better than we do.  You sure sound
much better."  He sat down on the couch.  "Mom, is there any coffee left for
me?"

   Cindy poured an additional cup for him.  Jim seemed cheeky, but likable.
His muscular build made him a delicious sight.  He was better looking than
Steve, and it was obvious he was charmed by Giorgia.  He made a special point
of engaging her in conversation.  Flirting would've been too strong a word to
describe his conduct.  But clearly he was playing a machismo role with this
beautiful Italian in the room.  Giorgia was flattered and amused by his
grandiose behavior.

   The girls were tired, and Lauren suggested they retire.  Giorgia was happy
to end the domestic repartee.  She liked her roommate's family, but she had
something important to attend to.  She was overdue for a cigarette!  She was
supposed to be able to smoke in her basement bedroom.  She said nothing to
the Martins, but was eager to go downstairs to light up.  Having smoked
heavily during the four hour car trip, her appetite was whetted for more.  It
often seemed the more she smoked, the more she wanted to.

   Lauren's mother showed Giorgia the bathroom arrangements.  A small
half-bath was in the corner of the basement.  She gave her some towels.
Giorgia was impatient for Cindy leave so she could light up at long last.
But Lauren's mother continued to loiter, seeming unduly tense.  "Well," she
said nervously.  "That's about it.  If you need anything, Giorgia, you just
call upstairs and ask.  I hope you'll be comfortable down here."

   "I will be fine," Giorgia said with a hint of impatience.  "Don't worry
about me.  I am simply glad to be here and be a part of your lovely family
this holiday."

   "Yes, well, that's great," Cindy mumbled.  She smiled and turned.  "Sleep
well."

   "I will," Giorgia assured her.  She heard Cindy's footsteps ascend the
basement stairs.  She heard the door close.  Oh God!  At last!  In a second
she'd opened her overnight bag.  She took out a large ashtray atop a carton
of cigarettes.  She placed the ashtray on the table beside the bed.  From her
purse she retrieved her current pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  She put one
in her mouth.  A click of her lighter, and she was smoking again.  Oh God,
she sighed happily, holding smoke in her lungs as long as she could.  At long
last!

   Giorgia smoked furiously.  She hadn't been deprived long, but the stress
of meeting and relating to Lauren's family in an unfamiliar cultural setting
had been difficult.  She knew how to act in Italy.  But here it was
different.  The stress of the unfamiliar setting increased her need for
nicotine.  She needed its help to calm her nerves, and she wasn't
disappointed.  The relief supplied by her cigarette was wonderful.  She took
one deep drag after another, sucking the smoke in and exhaling through her
nose, pausing only long enough to de-ash from time to time.  She never heard
the basement door open or the footsteps descend the stairs.

   "Hi," she heard a voice behind her.  She turned, startled.  It was
Lauren's 'little' brother.

   "Hello," she gasped, surprised in the midst of a long drag.  Smoke poured
from her mouth as she blushed and smiled at the unexpected visitor.  "I'm
sorry," she apologized, still holding her cigarette.  "I didn't hear you come
down."

   Jim wore a coy smile.  "I should've shouted before coming down," he said
contritely.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to interrupt."

   "I'm only smoking," she said, still a bit unnerved.  "Lauren says I am
permitted to smoke here in the basement.  I hope you don't mind." Judging
from his demeanor, it didn't look like Jim was bothered at all.  At least,
not by her smoking!

   Jim smiled.  "Oh, no, it's fine.  Doesn't bother me at all."  She sensed
he wanted to say something else.  In the awkward silence Giorgia took another
long drag.  She pulled the smoke in, jutted out her upper lip, and released a
torrent of it in a vertical stream toward the ceiling.

   "My folks said you smoke," he muttered offhandedly.  "So I wasn't
surprised or anything."  A pregnant pause followed.  "Actually, I smoke,
too," he blurted out.  As soon as he said it, he looked extremely
embarrassed.

   "You do?" Giorgia squealed, surprised and delighted.  "Oh!  That is great!
It always pleases me to meet another smoker, Jim."  She held out her hand,
and he shook it with a self-conscious grin.  Now _this_ was unexpected.  Her
devious mind raced.  It might prove to be quite fortuitous.  "I assume that
your parents do not know that you smoke, Jim?"

   "Uh, no," he said awkwardly, looking at the floor.  "They don't know."

   "Mmm," Giorgia deliberated during another long drag.  "Well, Jim Martin,
that is a problem for you, isn't it?  Tell me.  Would you like to join me for
a cigarette?  I would love the company, and I don't believe your mother will
come back down here now that I am smoking."

   A big smile crossed Jim's face.  "Oh God, I sure would.  I'd love one!  In
fact, I must admit, I was hoping you might offer me a cigarette, Giorgia.
Thanks!"

   "I am so glad you told me."  She put her cigarette in her mouth and
reached for her pack.  She shook out a Marlboro Light 100 and handed it to
her unexpected guest.  He took it, leaned in as she clicked her lighter, and
she lit him up.

   "Does your sister know?" she asked as Jim took a long initial drag and
inhaled the smoke into his lungs.  He didn't look like a novice, but like a
seasoned, regular smoker.

   "No."  He released a long, thin stream of smoke toward Giorgia's face.
She didn't flinch.  She let the exhaled smoke drift lazily in the air around
her.  "None of my family knows," he went on.  "But I knew I could trust you.
There's honor among thieves, isn't there?"  There was a puzzled look on
Giorgia's face.  She had no idea what he was talking about, so he rephrased
his comment while she took another hit.  "I mean, those of us who smoke can
be trusted to take care of each other.  Right?"

   "Ah," Giorgia nodded as twin streams of smoke surged from her nostrils.
"I understand.  Yes, I will be happy to protect your little secret, Jim.  It
will be very nice to have someone to smoke with during this long weekend.  I
do not like to smoke alone.  Would you like to smoke with me while I'm here?"
she asked.  Without hesitation, he nodded eagerly.  "Good.  But I warn you.
I am from a culture with very different ideas about smoking.  I am very
militant.  People in your country are brainwashed, as you say.  American
smokers are too passive.  You should understand that I am trying to recruit
your sister.  I intend to see her become a smoker, and a militant one, too,
just like me."  She looked at her new comrade triumphantly.

   "Lauren?" Jim remarked incredulously.  "God, I can't imagine her smoking!"

   "It will happen.  Trust me.  I have a plan that I hope will be realized
this weekend.  Actually, Jim, the fact that you smoke, too, will help me
carry out my plans."

   "Plans?"

   "Yes."  She sensed she could trust Lauren's little brother.  He had a
vested interest, greater than hers, in seeing her scheme come to fruition.
"Here's what I have in mind for this weekend," she began.  "And here's how
you can help!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   The next day was Thanksgiving.  The Martins ate turkey dinner at noon.
Lauren said it let everyone in the family eat leftovers for supper whenever
they wanted.  So Thursday morning they were busy preparing the celebratory
meal.  Giorgia pitched in, along with Lauren and Jim, to get things ready for
the sumptuous banquet.

   Before the meal was served, Giorgia appeared in the kitchen with two large
bottles of wine.  "In my country," she announced proudly, "we celebrate
important feasts with good wine.  I brought a tradition from my country to
yours.  These bottles are a gift to the Martin household."

   "What a great idea," Lauren's father said sincerely.  "Cindy, get the wine
glasses.  It's white wine, perfect for turkey," he whistled.  "Giorgia, thank
you very much.  It's expensive, too," he added, looking carefully at the
label.  "You're too kind.  We'll really enjoy this."

   "I hope so," Giorgia smiled in return.  She flashed Jim a quick wink.  "We
Italians believe good wine increases the enjoyment of a pleasurable meal."

   Even Cindy was touched.  "This does look like good wine," she agreed.
"I'm not used to having wine at noon, but this will be fun."

   "How did you buy that stuff?" Lauren interrupted.  "You have to be
twenty-one to buy beer and wine here.  I know for a fact you're only
eighteen, Giorgia."

   Giorgia grinned.  "Your country's laws are foolish, Lauren.  But I had
some help," she admitted.  "From Steve."

   "Oh," Lauren nodded.  Her boyfriend just turned twenty-one.  "I get it.
So we have Steve to thank for this?"

   "Steve was kind enough to make the purchase," Giorgia smiled.  "The money
is from my father.  I talked to him last week by telephone and said I was
celebrating the American feast-day here.  He insisted I bring wine as a gift,
as his thanks for having me as your guest."

   Tom Martin had already popped the cork on the first bottle.  "Tell your
father how much we appreciate his kindness."  He sniffed the mouth of the
bottle.  "This is great stuff."

   Indeed it was.  The noon-day table contained more food than could possibly
be eaten.  The wine from the Follone family added zest to the repast.  They
all had a wonderful time, eating and talking around the table.  Several times
Giorgia encouraged her hosts to have another glass.  Jim was eighteen, like
Giorgia, but his parents let the expensive wine flow freely.  By the end
everyone had had at least two big glasses.  Only Giorgia was used to having
wine with a noon meal.  Consequently, everyone else was in a singularly good
mood.  Even Lauren's mom lost some of her jumpiness.  The table conversation
grew animated and the laughter raucous.  Giorgia smiled.  Everything was
working according to plan!

   Cindy began to clear the dishes.  Her husband and kids followed suit.
Giorgia demurely excused herself and went down to the basement.  Except for
Jim, no one paid much attention to where she went or why.  They'd have
assumed she was sneaking downstairs for a quick smoke, which she was.  But
that wasn't all.  She also had another scheme in mind.  It was one that would
change everything.

   When Giorgia returned Cindy was distributing coffee cups around the dining
room table.  Giorgia sat down.  In her hand she had two large packages.  "I
have more gifts from the Follone family in Italy to the Martin family in
America," she announced proudly.  She hid her own apprehension.  She expected
the wine to be well received, and it was.  She was less sure about the second
stage of her little plan.  She took a deep breath.

   "This is a gift for you, Mrs. Martin," she said with a smile.  She handed
Cindy a wrapped package.  "I brought this from Italy, to give as a gift.  I
wish you to have it, in appreciation for your hospitality this weekend."

   "You didn't have to do this," Cindy objected.  But she was smiling.  "What
is it?"

   "Open it and see," Giorgia replied.

   All eyes were on Cindy as she tore open the package.  Inside was a
beautiful leather handbag of expensive leather.  "Oh my God," she gasped.
"It's stunning!  But Giorgia; why?"

   "You and your daughter have been kind to me," Giorgia explained.  She was
glad Cindy liked it.  "Leather goods in my country are well-made.  They are
expensive to import into your country, but much more reasonable for us.  I
hope you enjoy it."

   "Enjoy it?" Cindy replied.  "God, I love it.  Thank you so much!"

   So far, so good, Giorgia sighed.  Now the important one.  "I also have a
gift for you, Mr. Martin."  She handed Tom a second, smaller wrapped package.

   "Giorgia, this is too much," Tom protested.  "We shouldn't let you do
this."

   "Don't be silly," Giorgia smiled.  No one saw her hands shake under the
table.  "This is something that perhaps we can all enjoy."

   Tom unwrapped his package and whistled.  "A box of cigars," he exclaimed.
"Oh my God!  These are really good ones, too."  He turned to smile at
Giorgia.  "I haven't had a good cigar in a long time.  How did you know I'd
like these?"

   "Lauren once mentioned that you sometimes smoke cigars," she said
serenely.  "There's nothing better than a good cigar after a good meal and a
good glass of wine."

   Tom carefully examined the box.  "Wow, these are Avo XO Maestosos," he
admired.  "They aren't cheap.  You didn't bring these from Italy, did you?"

   "No," Giorgia blushed.  She was pleased with his reaction.  "I bought them
yesterday at a tobacco store near campus," she explained.  "I thought perhaps
we could share them."

   "Here?  Now?" Tom asked.  "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, I thought you and I could smoke them right now.  There are enough
so that everyone can have one if they like."  She gazed across the table at
Lauren and Jim.

   "Giorgia, you smoke cigarettes," Lauren objected.  "Do you smoke cigars,
too?"

   "Of course," Giorgia smiled soothingly.  "A good cigar is a special treat
in my country.  My father taught me to smoke cigars.  I often have one on
special occasions, such as today."

   "Now wait a minute, Tom," Cindy interrupted.  "You can't smoke them in my
house."  She turned toward Giorgia.  She was flustered.  "I'm sure my husband
appreciates your kindness, Giorgia.  But I do not permit cigar smoking in my
home."

   "I understand.  Well, then, perhaps we can sit on the back porch and enjoy
them," she suggested.  "I know I'd like to have one.  Wouldn't you, Mr.
Martin?"

   Tom was torn.  He hadn't had a cigar in a long time.  But he wanted one of
those beauties.  The wine had banished his inhibitions.  The idea of sharing
a cigar with a beautiful young Italian woman intrigued him.  "It's a
wonderful idea," he said enthusiastically, ignoring his wife's icy stare.
"Let's go sit on the back porch and fire 'em up."

   "Would anyone else care to join us?" Giorgia smiled.  "Lauren?  Mrs.
Martin?"

   Before they could answer, Jim piped up.  "I'd love to have one," he said
pleasantly.  "Sounds great."  He shot a quick glance at Giorgia.  This was
the response they planned last night, and he'd delivered it right on cue.

   "Jim," Lauren's mother protested.  "You don't smoke!"

   "Sure, I do, Mother," he said blithely.  "My friends and I sometimes smoke
cigars.  I'd love to try one of these.  They look great!"

   "Jim Martin," Cindy exclaimed.  "You're not old enough to smoke."

   "You forget, Mom," Jim replied.  "I'm eighteen.  I'm not a kid anymore.
I'm old enough to smoke if I want to.  I'd like to smoke one with Dad and
Giorgia."

   Now Cindy was completely flustered.  Giorgia interrupted before she could
speak again.  "I'd be delighted to have Jim join us, Mr. Martin.  Is that
okay with you?"

   All Tom could think about was firing up one of the marvelous Maestosos.
"Sure," he smiled.  "It's fine with me.  Jim's right, Cindy.  He's eighteen.
We can't stop him from smoking if he wants.  C'mon, let's hit the back
porch."  He stood up and carried three of the cigars with him.

   Cindy was clearly upset.  But she'd been outmaneuvered.  "You know I don't
like you smoking cigars," she muttered as Tom walked by on his way to the
porch.  "I do not approve."

   "Mrs. Martin, perhaps you do not understand," Giorgia boldly interrupted a
second time.  "Expensive cigars are a special treat.  They are very
pleasurable.  Smoking them doesn't mean you'll become addicted as I am to
cigarettes.  Perhaps you should try one.  You might enjoy it."

   "I've had cigars before," she retorted bitterly.  "I can't afford to head
down that road again."  She returned to the kitchen.  "You all go out on the
porch and smoke your stupid cigars," she added cynically.  "I'll stay inside
and clean up the dishes."

   Tom, Jim and Giorgia opened the door and exited to the porch.  The weather
had remained unusually mild.  Temperatures were in the low sixties.  Giorgia
caught Lauren's eye.  "Why don't you come and join us, Lauren?  Just to
watch, of course," she smiled slyly.

   "Okay," Lauren agreed.  She was curious to see this unexpected event.  "I
will."

   The four of them sat at the table and Giorgia pulled a small clipper from
her pocket.  "This is to prepare the cigars," she announced.  She took the
three of them from Lauren's father and began the ritual of clipping the tips.

   "Wow, you've thought of everything," Tom sighed happily as he watched the
young woman expertly ply her trade.  He couldn't wait to have one.

   Giorgia put one of the long brown cigars in her mouth and clicked her
disposable lighter.  She slowly rotated the cylinder between her lips while
she lit it, carefully puffing intermittently to get the cigar going properly.
Thick, rich, creamy, white smoke escaped from Giorgia's lips as she did.
Then she took a long first drag.  The air was still, and the exhaled smoke
hung motionless above her head.  "Your turn," she smiled at Lauren's father,
handing him her lighter and one of the unlit prepared cigars.

   Tom eagerly followed suit, meticulously lighting his Maestoso.  A big
smile spread over his face.  "Boy, these _are_ good," he said appreciatively,
releasing a large, billowing cloud of smoke into the warm air.  Meanwhile
Giorgia had handed a third cigar to Jim.  Lauren watched, fascinated.  It'd
been years since she'd seen her father have a cigar.  He obviously enjoyed
it.

   Jim seemed unsure of himself.  He copied Giorgia's and his father's
movements, lighting his cigar the same way.  He exhaled his first puff of
smoke, but made the mistake of inhaling his second drag.  He choked and
coughed slightly.  "Wow," he gasped.  "These things are strong!"

   "Not really," Giorgia laughed.  "Actually, these Maestosos are very mild.
But you can't inhale cigar smoke, Jim.  Smoking cigars is not like smoking a
cigarette, you know."

   Jim's eyes were still watering.  "But you're inhaling," he objected.

   It was true.  Giorgia inhaled the puffs from her cigar, releasing the
smoke in twin streams through her nostrils.

   "Yes, and I am inhaling more than a little, too, I'm afraid," she admitted
with a sly grin.  "But that's because I'm a much heavier cigarette smoker
than you.  Over the years I've grown accustomed to cigar smoke.  You should
smoke your cigar the same way you learned to smoke cigarettes.  Take a puff
and blow the smoke right out.  With cigarettes, that's not satisfying.  But
with a good cigar, you needn't inhale to enjoy the smoke."

   Jim nodded and tried again.  He blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air.
"Hey, you're right," he admitted.  "It's much easier, and it still tastes
great."

   "Hey.  You said you've smoked cigars," his father interrupted.  "It sounds
like that isn't exactly true.  Is it?  It sounds like you've been smoking
cigarettes instead."

   Jim's face turned red.  "Uh, yeah, Dad," he admitted.  "But I wanted to
try a cigar.  These are pretty great, aren't they?"  It was an obvious
attempt to change the subject.

   "How _much_ have you been smoking, young man?" Tom asked his son.  "At
first I didn't pay much attention, but now I'm curious.  If you haven't been
smoking an occasional cigar, how often have you been smoking cigarettes?"

   Jim grew nervous.  He and Giorgia discussed this, but he was still edgy.
"Dad, I won't lie," he admitted.  "My friends and I are seniors in high
school and we're all eighteen.  It's not illegal for us to buy cigarettes.
So if I go out to a party, I usually have a few."

   Tom Martin slowly nodded.  As he did, he put his cigar in his mouth and
took a long, thoughtful puff.  "I'm not surprised.  You probably won't want
to smoke cigarettes over the long run.  No offense to you, Giorgia," he added
kindly with a big smile.  "But that's why I switched to cigars when I was
your age.  Even then, people treated you funny when you smoked cigarettes.
Just be careful.  And don't tell your mother," he added with a wink.

   Jim sensed this constituted consent.  So did Lauren and Giorgia.  But he
asked a question.  "Dad, I didn't know you ever smoked cigarettes.  I knew
Mom did, long ago.  But you?"

   "Oh, yeah," Tom smiled wistfully.  "I was younger than you.  I liked
smoking.  But my folks were pains in the ass about it."  He grinned again.
"I promised myself I'd never do _that_ to my kids.  I'm not encouraging you
to smoke.  But if that's your decision, I won't do to you what your
grandparents did to me.  Now your mother; that's a different story!"

   "Why is that, Dad?" Lauren interrupted.  She was as intrigued as her
brother.

   "Your mom used to smoke.  As a teenager she was a heavy smoker.  It was
before I knew her, but I guess she smoked all the time, over a pack a day."
He paused for a puff on his cigar.  He tapped an ash in the ashtray and went
on.  "From what she told me, she was nineteen when she came down with a bad
case of pneumonia.  She got real sick.  She was in the hospital for awhile
and confined to bed rest after she got out.  She said she quit smoking
because she couldn't breathe.  It was only her pneumonia, but it scared her
to death.  Her doctor and her parents wouldn't let her smoke in her condition
anyway."  He smiled.  "She told me quitting drove her nuts.  Even though she
couldn't breathe, all she thought about for days on end was lighting up a
cigarette."  He shrugged his shoulders.  "By the time she got better, she
swore she'd never smoke again.  She went from being a woman who always had a
cigarette in her mouth to someone completely intolerant of smoking;
intolerant of smokers like me, especially."

   Lauren nodded knowingly.  But Jim frowned.  He wanted to know more.  "So,
Mom got pneumonia because she smoked too much?"

   Tom laughed.  "No.  That's the funny thing.  She had something called
eosinophilic pneumonia, a condition caused by an allergic reaction.  It
creates a chain reaction in the lungs that looks and acts like pneumonia.
But it's an allergy.  Her doctor said it had nothing to do with the fact that
she smoked.  But I guess it didn't matter.  The experience turned her against
tobacco.  Plus, she said she never wanted to quit again.  I guess it was
really hard for her.  When I met her she'd grown extremely critical of any
kind of smoking.  That's why I never smoked cigars in the house when you kids
were little," he chuckled.  "Your mother did _not_ approve."

   "I don't get it," Lauren pressed.  "Was she allergic to cigarette smoke?
Was that why she got pneumonia?"

   Tom snickered.  "No, apparently not.  The allergen that caused her
reaction was unknown.  So your mom _could've_ started smoking again after she
got well.  She just chose not to.  That's why I'd advise, don't tell her
you're smoking, Jim.  She's not rational discussing the subject.  You saw her
reaction when Giorgia gave us these fine cigars."  He smiled and turned to
Giorgia.  "By the way, these are _wonderful_ cigars.  Thank you."

   "Prego," she smiled.  "I mean, you are most welcome.  I must remember to
speak English."

   "Hey, Dad," Jim inquired.  "Does this mean that you don't care if I
smoke?"

   "What I think is irrelevant," Tom admitted.  "Your mother controls the
temperature of this house as far as smoking is concerned.  My advice is, keep
the subject off her radar screen, Jim.  It'll make life for all of us a whole
lot easier."

   "So, Mr. Martin," Giorgia grinned.  "If I understand correctly, you do not
object if your children choose to smoke?"  She gave Lauren a quick glance,
who was still befuddled by the discussion as well as by the sight of her
brother and father smoking cigars with her roommate.

   "I didn't say that," he retorted.  "At least, not exactly.  But, hell.  I
guess I don't care if one or both of you kids decide you want to.  I mean,
it's your life, isn't it?  Smoking's not good for you.  I suppose I'd rather
you didn't.  But if you decide to follow in the footsteps of little Giorgia
here, well, I'd understand."  

   As Lauren watched, the three of them finished their cigars.  The
combination of pleasant conversation and a winsome smoking experience made
time pass pleasantly.  Giorgia handled her Maestoso like the veteran smoker
she was, blowing perfect smoke rings and impressing the others with her
style.  Jim settled in and enjoyed his first cigar.  As for Tom, he was like
a man who found a long-lost friend.  He admitted it was more than a year
since his last cigar.  But he said he'd be very happy smoking the remaining
Maestosos.  "If I could just get your mother comfortable with this," he
muttered with a twinkle in his eye.  "I'd smoke cigars more often."  He and
Jim agreed they'd find an opportunity to share the cigar smoking experience
again.

   After they finished, they all went their separate ways.  Tom took a short
nap, and Jim went off to visit his friends and regale them with what'd
happened.  Giorgia went downstairs.  She was eager to be alone in the
basement.  She loved a good cigar, but now she wanted a cigarette.  They
remained her first love.  She loved feeling cigarette smoke fill up her
lungs.  She wanted to really inhale.  Sitting on her bed, she lit a Marlboro
Light 100.  She took a monstrous first drag and sucked the smoke deep, deep
inside her chest.  God, it felt so good, so right!  She held it in, refusing
to exhale until absolutely necessary.  The inhaled smoke stimulated her eager
lungs.  It seemed to Giorgia the perfect way to celebrate.  So far,
everything had gone perfectly!

   During her second consecutive drag, she heard footsteps.  She turned to
look as she released twin streams of smoke from her nostrils.  It was Lauren
coming down the stairs.

   "Can we talk?"

   "Sure," Giorgia smiled.  "Perhaps you think it's strange that I
immediately smoke a cigarette after finishing a cigar.  The experiences are
pleasant, but different."

   "I don't care about that.  I want to ask about what happened upstairs.
You planned it, didn't you?  You set up my father and my brother."

   Giorgia smiled and nodded.  "Yes, I did."  There was not a hint of
embarrassment or shame.  "And your mother is next."

   Lauren looked stunned.  "But why?  Why are you doing this?"

   "I want to help your family."  Giorgia's eyes flashed.  "Your brother
spoke to me last night.  He's been smoking cigarettes for awhile.  He loves
to smoke, Lauren.  But he has been afraid to tell your parents.  He knows how
your mother feels about it.  I knew my plan would help him.  And I was right.
Now Jim and your father will smoke cigars together and share the experience.
It is wonderful.  Benissimo!"

   "But you didn't know my brother smoked till last night," Lauren said
accusingly.  "So that wasn't why you brought the cigars, was it?  You had
something else in mind.  What was it?"

   Giorgia lifted her cigarette to her lips for a long drag.  "The cigars
were a gift, to help your father."  As she spoke she sucked the smoke in.
She paused to exhale slowly via her mouth.  "From what you said, I suspected
your father still liked cigars, but for some reason was afraid to enjoy them.
I imagined the reason must be your mother.  By giving him fine cigars, he had
an excuse to indulge himself.  He now has several cigars to enjoy.  I feel
very good about this."

   "But why?"  Lauren seemed gripped by her inquiry.  "Damn it!  Why in the
hell do you care if my father smokes?  Or Jim?"

   Giorgia smiled.  Her roommate almost never used profanity.  She was
obviously thoroughly exercised by the affair.  That pleased Giorgia.  It was
what she wanted to happen.

   "I did it for you, Lauren, because I want you to smoke."  She reached out
and took her hand.  "I want you to smoke like me.  That is why I did it.  You
were worried what your parents would say if you smoked.  Today you see that
your father will not mind when you finally decide to join me.  He said it to
your brother.  He understands.  So, I have removed one of the reasons for
your reluctance."

   "God!  I knew it," Lauren exclaimed.  "The whole business about the cigars
being a gift, and your father telling you to give us wine and cigars, was
nothing but pure bullshit."

   Giorgia smiled serenely.  "No, it was true.  I did speak with my father,
and he asked me to buy wine and cigars for your family as gifts.  Everyone in
my family smokes and drinks wine, Lauren.  Everyone, even my little sister.
I want your family to have the same enjoyment."  She squeezed Lauren's
fingers.  "I know you want us to be closer.  I want that, too.  But it cannot
happen unless you become like me.  You must become a smoker, Lauren Martin.
I am not being unreasonable in saying this.  I know you will enjoy it."

   "I tried smoking once," Lauren admitted.  She paused.  It suddenly hit
her.  "You know what, though?  Now I know what I did wrong.  You mentioned it
while talking to Jim about why he choked smoking his cigar."

   A serene smile rested on Giorgia's pretty face.  "What was it?" she asked
quietly as she took another long, slow drag on her cigarette.  "Tell me,
Lauren."

   Lauren watched thin streams slowly trickle from Giorgia's mouth and lips.
"Remember when Jim choked?  Remember what you said?  You said smoking cigars
isn't like smoking cigarettes.  You told him to puff the same way he did when
he first started smoking cigarettes.  That meant not inhaling at all, blowing
the smoke right out.  Right?"

   Giorgia nodded dreamily.  "Uh-huh," she said contentedly.

   Lauren was getting excited.  "Don't you see?" she insisted.  "That was my
problem!  I was trying to inhale, but I wasn't ready.  That's why I choked
and coughed.  Just like Jim today."

   "You are correct," Giorgia smiled.  "You cannot inhale cigarette smoke
until you grow accustomed to it.  Even though it is not as strong as cigar
smoke, it takes time to prepare your lungs to receive the presence of
cigarette smoke inside.  I could have told you, if you asked me."  She
squinted at Lauren.  "But now the question is, what are you going to do?" Her
eyes sparkled.  "I can teach you to smoke right now, if you'd like.  Is that
what you want?"

   "I'm not sure," Lauren admitted.  "I still don't know."  She sighed.  "But
at least now I understand what happened to me.  If I decide I wanted to,
maybe I could be a smoker after all."

   "Of course," Giorgia purred reassuringly.  "Certainly.  Do not doubt.  And
you will be a smoker, and you will love it.  Do you want to learn now?  I'd
love to teach you to do it properly."

   "No, I still need to think about it," Lauren confessed.  "You also said
you have a plan that involves my mom, too.  What is it?"

   "Wait and see," Giorgia said with a slight tease in her voice.  "If things
continue to work out as I believe they will, then you will find out very
soon."

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