Graduation Gift, Part 1

(by Dar, 18 February 1997)

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    Part 1

    This story contains language which depicts sexual arousal due to smoking
cigarettes. Those who are offended by such language should read no further.

    Persons who wish to make comments about the story are requested to post
them on the smoking glamour bulletin board: alt.smokers.glamour

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    "Margaret Ann Molloy, Bachelor of Arts with Honors" intoned the
chancellor, as Bill and Irene watched their only daughter cross the stage and
receive her diploma. Pride swelled in their hearts as they realized that their
baby was now a grown woman, with a new job starting in just a week in New York
City. They felt relief that they had gotten to town and to the ceremony just
after it had begun, but in time to see Meg graduate.

    "Let's ask Meg to go to our hotel and relax with us for a while", said
Irene when the ceremony had finally ended. "You know, we haven't even seen our
girl this past year, with her being gone to France for that special study
program first semester, and then so busy at school second semester."

    Bill agreed with his wife. "You know, Irene, she looks so grown up. I feel
like we hardly know Meg any more, and we have just a week to visit with her
before she's gone again."

    "There is something about her now," said Irene, "that just makes her seem
more mature and self-confident. Our little Meg...all grown up." They finally
caught up with their daughter outside the field house. After taking some
pictures they asked Meg if she could drive her car over to their hotel and
relax with them before they all went out to dinner. "I have to stop and pick
up a couple things, and I'll be right there," she said.

    Back at the hotel room, Irene sat down on the bed and stretched her arms.
"I wish we could have gotten here yesterday, Bill," she said, "because I'm
really tense from our long drive this morning and not even seeing Meg before
the ceremony started."

    Bill smiled and said, "Well, my work schedule just didn't permit an early
start, but at least now we can have a nice week to get to know our daughter
again. That's what it feels like."

    Bill heard a knock at the door and welcomed Meg to their room. She
smothered her parents with hugs and kisses. "Oh, mom and dad! I've missed you
for so long! I haven't seen either of you since last August. It's been so
frantic all year, and I have felt so stressed out. I'm glad I can finally take
a few minutes to unwind and relax with my favorite people!" She sat down on
the bed, opened her purse, took out a new pack of Benson & Hedges Light 100's,
and started pulling on the cellophane wrapper.

    "Meg! Do you smoke?" said Bill. "I can't believe it! My own daughter? When
did this start?"

    "Oh, dad, yes I do. I started smoking when I was working in the student
union last semester. It was so busy that I just felt nervous all the time, and
my friends Amy and Carla both smoked and suggested that it would help me
relax." Meg withdrew the long, white cigarette from her pack, put it between
her pursed lips, and flicked her lighter. She pulled the flame into the tip of
the cigarette, and sucked hard to get it thoroughly lit. After puffing out the
first smoke from lighting it, she took a deep drag, released a creamy ball of
smoke in front of her lips, and then smoothly inhaled it. She closed her eyes
for two or three seconds of what looked like bliss, and then blew a long plume
of thick smoke up toward the ceiling. "Dad, I didn't mean to surprise you or
anything, but…well, I am a smoker now, and I really like it."

    Bill turned red in the face, with a harsh frown on his forehead. "So this
is what I paid four years of college bills to get! Don't you know that your
mother and I don't smoke because we wanted to set a good example for you? I've
NEVER smoked a cigarette, never even tried it. NEVER, do you hear me? I always
knew that it was a filthy, smelly, ugly habit that would kill you. So what
gives you the right to come to our hotel room and start smoking a cigarette?
Have you turned into some kind of tramp? Do you think a college degree gives
you the right to act like a fool? I can't take this kind of stress. I can't
take it, do you hear me! I'm getting out of this room for a while, until I can
cool off. And young lady, that cigarette had better be put out when I get
back! This is definitely NOT my idea of a graduation gift!" Bill stormed out
of the room and slammed the door.

    Meg took a couple fast puffs on her cigarette, and exhaled quickly. "Oh,
mom," she asked, "what has come over dad? I've never seen him so angry. I knew
that you and he didn't smoke, but he never talked about not smoking before. I
didn't know that he would even mind." She took another, deeper drag, and held
it in for several seconds. As she continued talking, the smoke puffed out with
her words. "He didn't even give me a chance to explain."

    Irene was staring at Meg's cigarette, with a strange look in her eyes.
"Dear, your dad is just really tired out from work. I wanted to get here a day
early, but he had to work a full day yesterday, and just would not take the
day off. I think it's just too much for him. And frankly, this kind of tantrum
by him is just about too much for me. It makes me very upset."

    "And you are upset about my smoking also?" asked Meg, as she took another
long drag on the B&H. "I'm sorry, Mom, I just really like smoking, and I
thought…well, I am an adult now, and that's what I want to do. But I didn't
want to offend you and dad. Please don't you be mad at me too. Please, Mom?"
Meg took another short puff, and then a much longer and deeper one, again
closing her eyes at the pleasure of the smoke as it filled her lungs. She
opened her eyes as she blew out her smoke in another long, thick plume. She
noticed her mother watching the smoke as it left her lips.

    Irene looked down for a moment, and then raised her eyes to look at Meg
again. "Meg, I must tell you something...something that not even your dad
knows. You know he said that he has never smoked. Well…I did. When I was in
high school I was on the cheerleading squad and everybody else on the squad
smoked, so I started smoking too." (Author's Note: One of Irene's high school
smoking scenes is described in the story "Football Fantasy".)

    "But I suppose you didn't really like it, and you quit, right?" guessed
Meg. "Mom, you don't know what it's like to really love smoking." She took a
final puff, put out her cigarette, and started to take another one out of the
pack. "It just gives me a feeling of happiness and refreshment, Mom. The smoke
smells good to me, and I like the way it feels when I inhale it, and I like
the way it looks." Meg lit her new cigarette, and took a deep drag. " You
probably never concentrated on how smoke looks, Mom. Smoke forms beautiful
patterns when it rises from a cigarette sitting in an ashtray. Most of all, I
like how I can take a deep drag, and puff it out of my mouth before I inhale
it, and I can actually see this thick, rich ball of smoke just in front of my
face, just hanging there in mid-air, and it's all for me. It's a moment of
great anticipation, as I know that I can suck that whole ball of smoke into my
lungs and feel so good. It does feel really good, Mom. It's like my whole
insides just tingle in a special way when the smoke is deep in my lungs. And
then I like the way I can blow the smoke out, and it can go four or five feet
out from my mouth, in a beautiful, long cone of smoke. Oh, I'm sorry, Mom, I
didn't mean to go on and on about this. I just wanted you to know why I like
to smoke. I wasn't trying to hurt anybody's feelings by smoking. But I'm sure
you can't understand what I'm talking about. It's been so long since you tried
smoking, and you probably just did it because the other girls did, and you
didn't like it, or else you would have continued, right?"

    Irene looked Meg straight in the eye. "Give me one of your cigarettes,
young lady!"

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Bill stomped down the hall and hit the elevator button. "Imagine the
nerve," he thought to himself. "Why would an otherwise brilliant and beautiful
daughter do such an awful thing? I can't believe it. I just can't believe that
my baby Margaret Ann would even consider..." The elevator door opened, and he
got on, punching the first floor button. "Why in heaven's name would she start
smoking...SMOKING, of all things?" Bill continued thinking. "I never thought
this could happen..." The elevator door opened, and Bill headed straight
across the lobby to the hotel lounge.

    Seating himself in the first available bar stool in the lounge, he tried
to get his thoughts together. "I'll just have a coke," he said to the
bartender. Bill started to adjust his eyes to the darkened room. Three
businessmen were sitting together and talking in the middle of the
horseshoe-shaped bar, and directly across from Bill was a gorgeous blonde
watching the television up on the wall.

    "Why do people even want to smoke?" Bill thought to himself. He noticed
one of the businessmen was puffing on a cigar. "That is so ignorant," Bill's
mind continued thinking. "Our lungs were meant to breath air, not some smelly,
poisonous fumes. What is the point? Puff it in, blow it out, puff it in, blow
it out. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

    He noticed that the blonde across from him was lighting up a long
cigarette. She was wearing a slinky black velour dress, and he noticed the
high cheekbones on her nicely made-up face. Her eyes were focused up at the
wall TV, so Bill just stared across the bar at her, with a scowl on his face.
Bill had never in his life paid much attention to smokers. He had always just
dismissed them as stupid or misguided, and had focused his attention
elsewhere. But now he thought he would just stare at this woman smoking and
see what it was all about. And since her attention was focused on the wall TV,
she would not notice his stare or see the anger on his face.

    "Just look at her," he thought. "A pretty girl like her...just wasting
herself away. And see what she is doing! She's sucking on that stupid
cigarette for what seems like forever. Now there's a fat ball of smoke in
front of her mouth. What does she think it is, bubble-gum? And look at that:
she's breathing it in through her nose, of all things." He took a sip of his
coke, waiting for the smoke to reappear, and continued his mental
observations. "There she goes, blowing that smelly smoke almost all the way up
to the TV set. And now look at her! She's doing it all again. You would think
that she'd at least stop smoking for minute to get a chance to breathe some
air. Wait, what's this? I can't believe it! She just sucked on her cigarette,
breathed in the smoke a little, and now she's sucking on it really hard a
second time, and breathing in that smoke on top of the first smoke. She should
be arrested for industrial-scale pollution! Look at that...just look at how
thick that smoke is coming from those red lips." The recessed lights above the
bar seemed to illuminate the smoke and make it look very thick and creamy.
"I'm going to time just how long she sucks on that cigarette. Okay, she's
putting it between her lips, here she goes." He mentally counted the seconds,
and got to five when she began to inhale, but she again put the cigarette back
in her mouth. "So she's doubling up again. One... two... three...," he
continued counting as he noticed some of the smoke lazily emptying from her
nose, "... seven... eight... nine." She moved the cigarette from her mouth to
just in front of her lips, as Bill continued his observations. "So now she's
inhaling all the smoke, and I can see that the smoke from her cigarette is so
close that it is being pulled into her mouth. Let's see how long she keeps it
in her lungs." He noticed how her breasts had risen as she had inhaled the
large drag of smoke. "... three... four... five... okay, here it comes. Look
at all the smoke coming out of her! What a stupid idiot. She probably can't
even see the television, what with all that smoke in front of her. I can't
believe how thick it looks."

    Bill took another drink of his coke, and started absentmindedly shifting
his position on the bar stool. The stool had seemed normal when he first sat
down, but now he felt some discomfort. As he watched the blonde tip her ash
into the tray on the bar, and then bring the cigarette up to her mouth again
for another long drag, Bill suddenly realized he was having a partial
erection, which made it hard for him to sit. "What is this? Why am I getting a
hard-on?" he asked himself.

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    "Oh, Mom, you don't have to prove anything to me," Meg said. "I know some
people disapprove of smoking, even though I like to smoke so much. So, just
because you tried it once in high school, you don't have to show me that you
know how to smoke or something."

    "Meg dear," began Irene, "you are the one who assumed that I didn't like
to smoke in high school. The fact is that I loved it. I started as a freshman.
By the time I was a sophomore I was smoking a pack a day. Junior and senior
years I was usually doing two or three packs a day. Of course, in those days
it was easy to buy cigarettes, and my mom and dad, your grandparents, both
smoked, so they didn't mind me smoking at home. Now give me that cigarette, if
you please, and I will tell you some more of my story."

    Meg took out a new cigarette for herself and passed the pack of Benson &
Hedges Lights to her mother. Irene shook one of the long, white cigarettes
from the pack and placed it between her lips. Meg reached over and flicked her
lighter under the tip of her mother's cigarette. Irene took a quick, hard draw
to light the cigarette, let the puff of smoke out, and then placed the filter
deep in the center of her mouth. She wrapped her lips tight around the shaft,
and began sucking thick smoke into her mouth. Keeping the cigarette between
her lips, she opened the corners of her mouth to inhale the smoke, then sealed
her lips again around the long shaft of the white cigarette, and began pulling
more and more smoke into her mouth. After about ten seconds, she withdrew the
cigarette from her mouth, puffed out an enormous ball of white smoke, inhaled
it deep into her lungs, and just held it there for several satisfying seconds.
She now felt the buzz as the nicotine began coursing through her blood. Irene
knew she wanted more. More smoke. Much more. Meg watched as her mother began
exhaling the smoke through her nose as she again placed the B&H in her mouth
and started drawing in more smoke.

    "Mother!" exclaimed Meg. "You really, really like to smoke! I had no idea,
absolutely no idea at all! Here," she said as she reached in her purse, "I
have an extra pack for myself. Keep the one I gave you. I think you may need
it. And here's an extra lighter I have. But I'm curious, mom. Why didn't you
ever smoke, all the time I was growing up?"

    Irene slowly exhaled a long plume of creamy smoke, and looked at her
daughter. "Meg, after I graduated from high school I got a job as a
receptionist for a medical supplies business. They didn't allow smoking on the
job, so I always waited until I got home. Then I met your dad, who was one of
the salesman for the company. Your dad is a wonderful man, and I just knew
right away that he was the one for me. We talked together at work and I
gradually found out that he had never smoked, his parents had never smoked,
and he was totally opposed to smoking. So I just quit! Oh, it was hard, but I
have a strong will, and I did it. Then when we were married and you were born,
I just didn't think it was right to smoke around my little girl. I figured
that if I set a good example, that you would never be interested in smoking
like I had been growing up. So now I haven't smoked for about twenty-three

    "Until today," said Meg, as she lit her third cigarette.

    "Until today," echoed Irene. "Now, when I saw you smoking, it brought back
all my old memories. I wanted to smoke again. And I am not a hypocrite. You
thought that I was not smoking because either I never tried it or I didn't
like it, neither of which is true." Irene took another puff on her cigarette.
"So now you know that your mom is really a smoker, just like you."

    "But what about Dad?" asked Meg. "You know, this room is getting a bit
smoky, and we'd better turn up the outside-air fan on that air-conditioner in
the window before he gets back."

    Irene took a long pull on her B&H, walked over to the window unit, and
turned the fan completely off. "Meg, we aren't going to air this room out. No.
You and I are going to fill this room with smoke," she said, as the smoke
puffed out with her words. "I told you that your dad was a wonderful man, but
for the last couple of years he's gotten more and more crabby. I don't know
what it is, maybe some kind of mid-life crisis. But his behavior has made me
more and more nervous. You saw how he blew up and stormed out of here. Well,
Meg, I stopped smoking in the first place for him, and then later for you too.
But I can see that you have decided to be a smoker, and I no longer see any
reason to deny myself the one pleasure in life I most enjoy, just because he
might be crabby about it, because he's going to be crabby anyway." Irene put
her cigarette out and promptly lit another one. "I said that I have a strong
will. It helped me to stop smoking, and now it's going to help me weather the
storm from your dad when he sees that I am smoking again."

    Meg and Irene both paused to take long draws on their cigarettes, and then
Meg spoke. "You know, Mom, smoking together with you has made me feel closer
to you than I ever have before. We've never had a talk like this before."

    "Meg, you are a woman now," said Irene. "Now we can smoke together, and
share some of the joys and heartaches of our lives." Irene took another long
puff, and slowly blew it out. "One of those joys is smoking, as you know. Now
I wish I had been smoking while you were growing up. I can see that now. But,
guess what? I learned some smoking techniques that I used and loved long ago,
and I'm going to share them with you. If we're going to smoke, we are really
going to smoke!"

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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