The Affair, Part 2 | |
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This story contains adult language and themes. If such language and themes offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1997 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 by the person reproducing it. THE AFFAIR 2. Springing the Trap. Anne awoke on Saturday. She looked at the clock. After nine! God, she'd slept late! Originally she planned to go to the office to catch up on miscellaneous projects. But now she wasn't sure. Maybe tomorrow. She walked downstairs and started the coffee maker. She turned her attention to smoking. How was she going to do it? The more she thought about it the less she wanted to try on her own. As a teenager she tried smoking and it made her sick. There had to be a way to learn that avoid that problem. Gretchen hadn't called back and probably wouldn't, either. Not in time. Anne sat at the kitchen table and looked out the window into the enclosed area behind the building. Anne's condo was part of a converted apartment complex. Her kitchen overlooked the association's common area. A series of walkways led to a covered parking area. Anne watched unsupervised kids playing an early morning game of tag. Suddenly she noticed something else. In the corner where two buildings came together, almost hidden from sight, a slender young girl stood in an overcoat bundled against the cold March wind. Smoking a cigarette. Anne leaned forward. She smiled. It was Hope Cummings, the 15 year old daughter of her next door neighbor, Becky Cummings. Smoking. The condominium complex didn't attract social people. Anne knew little about the Cummings or her other neighbors. Becky was an accountant, a single mom who worked a lot of hours this time of year during tax season. Hope was in high school. In the hall she'd exchanged pleasantries with them. They weren't friends. But this was an opportunity. Anne's legal training gave her an instinct to recognize tactical opportunities, to create leverage, and to use it to her advantage. She saw an opportunity to create and use leverage here. To accomplish her objective. Hope was obviously sneaking this cigarette. She was standing out of the sight line, smoking outside on a cold morning. She was hiding. Hope was doing something she was not supposed to. A plan began to formulate. Anne watched. Hope raised the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. Her cheeks caved in as she pulled hard on the cigarette. She inhaled the smoke and then blew a large cloud of smoke into the air. The cycle repeated every fifteen seconds. Finally Hope took a long, final drag, dropped the cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and quickly walked back to the door to the stairwell, exhaling smoke on the way. Anne went to her bedroom to get dressed. "Hope, you're going to be my teacher." A few minutes later Anne stood at the Cummings front door in the common hallway. She wore a navy blue designer sweatshirt, blue jeans and running shoes. An outfit which shouldn't seem threatening to a teenager, she decided with a smile. She took a deep breath and knocked. Several moments passed before Hope answered the door. There was a quizzical look on her lovely, teenage face. "Hi, Hope," Anne grinned. "You remember me? I'm Anne Sturges from next-door. Tell me, is your mom home this morning?" "Hi," Hope replied politely. "No, she's at work. It's tax season, you know." Anne smiled politely. Just as she expected. "Yes, I know," she answered. "Look, Hope, I'd like to ask you a question. Maybe you can help me. Can I come in?" Hope looked puzzled. "Sure thing. Come on in, Ms. Sturges." Anne walked inside. No odor of tobacco smoke in the air. Not an ashtray in sight. No sign that anyone who smoked lived here. Anne smiled to herself. "Please, call me Anne," she went on. "Can I sit down?" Without waiting for a reply Anne sat on the sofa. Hope sat down across from her. She carried a novel. A drugstore romance novel, Anne decided. Stories of men and women lusting after each other. Teenage girls with lots of hormones love those things! Hope was a pretty girl. Short red hair, freckles, fairly skinny and a decent figure for her age. Her tits were big for 15 years old. Anne guessed Hope got lots of attention from boys her age with those breasts! She dressed like a slob, but that was not surprising. Most teenagers did. Overall, a cute girl. But would she play ball? Anne spoke in an authoritative tone of voice. "Hope, I'll be blunt," she began. "I saw you smoking outside a few minutes ago. Does your mother know you're smoking?" The red-headed teenager looked stunned. "Omigod, Ms. Sturges .... I mean, Anne. No. She doesn't. Please don't tell her. She'd kill me if she knew I was smoking." Her eyes pleaded. "I'd get in so much trouble. Please! I beg you!" Anne smiled. "Don't worry. I won't. In fact, I'm here with an opportunity. Something which will help me, and you, too. Are you interested?" Hope looked suspicious. "Are you talking about ... blackmail?" she asked slowly. Anne laughed. "Blackmail? No. Nothing like that. Bur first I'll ask you a few questions. Play straight with me and I'll play straight with you. Hope, how old are you?" "Fifteen. But I'll be sixteen at the end of the summer." "And how long have you been smoking?" Hope gulped. "About six months, I guess." She fidgeted in the chair. "Well, maybe almost a year." "And how much do you smoke?" Again Hope squirmed. "You won't tell my mom?" "No. I said I won't, and I won't. But I would like your cooperation. How much?" "Usually six or seven cigarettes a day." She smiled. "On a good day, I smoke almost half a pack. When Mom's working overtime. Like today." Anne continued examining her witness. "And your mother doesn't know anything about this? Doesn't suspect a thing?" "I don't think so. She caught me once about four months ago. She was pissed. I'd been smoking in the house. I figured I'd cover the smell with hair spray and air freshener before she got home." Hope looked downcast. "It didn't work." "And what did she say?" "Mom said if she caught me smoking again she'd ground me for a month. So I smoke outside now. I can't risk getting caught. Usually I smoke with my friends. We hang out at the mall and smoke after school and on weekends. But I don't like to wait that long for my first cigarette of the day." She grinned. "That means I'm getting hooked," she added without a hint of apology. "So I sneak a smoke in the back in the morning right after Mom leaves for work." "I see," Anne said with clinical efficiency. "And your mom doesn't smoke? "No." Despite attempting to hide her reaction, Anne smiled. This was almost perfect. "Do you like smoking, Hope?" The teenager looked embarrassed. She fidgeted again. "Yeah," she answered shyly. "Yeah, I guess so." Then Hope straightened in the chair, brushed her red hair away from her face, and sighed. "Who am I kidding? Sure I like smoking. I wouldn't take these risks if I didn't, would I?" She smiled. She seemed more comfortable talking now. She took another deep breath. "Okay, I love it! Is that the answer you wanted?" "Actually, yes it is. It's the answer I expected and the answer I wanted. So you're not thinking about quitting? You know about all the health risks?" Hope rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know all about the health risks. Look, I'm 15 years old. I think smoking's cool. I'm not going to die tomorrow or anything. I can always quit later if I want. Actually, I'll tell you the truth," she added with a confidential tone. "If I could, I'd smoke all the time." Hope smiled like someone who'd told her deepest secret. Her answer demonstrated conviction. She was telling the truth. Hope didn't want to stop smoking. Not for her Mom. Not for anybody. "Wait a minute," Hope interrupted. "You answer a question for me. Why are you asking me this? Are you some kind of doctor or something?" Anne smiled serenely. "No, Hope. Actually, I'm a lawyer. I'll answer your question as soon as I ask you one more. Fair enough?" Hope nodded. "Is it easy for you to get cigarettes?" Hope sighed. "It gets harder all the time. More and more places card you nowadays. But there's a couple stores where I can get cigarettes. At least usually. As long as the right clerks are working." She shrugged. "It's a hassle sometimes, but it's not too bad if you work at it. You know what I mean?" Anne nodded. Another correct answer. "Hope, here's my business proposition. I'm 32 years old and I don't smoke. But I need to learn. Today. I need someone who smokes who can show me how to do it. I tried it myself when I was your age. It made me sick. If you teach me, I'll buy you a carton of cigarettes. What do you say?" Hope's eyes bugged out of her pretty little head. She smiled. "Is this for a play or something? You've got to learn how to play the part of a smoker? Is that it?" "Good guess, Hope! Actually, no. I'll be honest. You've been honest with me. Here's the deal. I'm trying to get this guy interested in me. But he says he won't go to bed with any girl who doesn't smoke. Because he smokes. Well, I want to fuck him real bad. So I need to learn to smoke to get him into bed. " Anne paused. Her young friend looked startled. "Candid enough?" "Yeah," Hope replied slowly. "I guess so." She stopped. "Let me get this straight. This guy you're after? He won't screw you unless you smoke? What's his problem? You're good looking, Anne!" Anne laughed. "Thank you. The problem is his wife doesn't smoke. He's sick of the shit he takes from her because he smokes. I think he's afraid of getting involved with me because I don't smoke. Afraid of taking more shit from me. So I have to learn. So he won't worry that I'll nag him about smoking. You know, about quitting?" Hope understood. She smiled. "You just want me to teach you how to smoke? That's it? You won't tell my Mom, and you'll buy me a carton of cigarettes for doing it?" "Exactly." Enthusiasm replaced Hope's shyness. "Well, let's get going then. But where are we going to do this thing? We sure can't smoke in here!" Anne frowned. "We'll go to my place." "Okay. We'll need smokes. I don't have enough. Let's go to the store and buy me that carton." Hopes eyes were flashing. "We'll buy some for you and some for me." Hope grabbed her coat and they drove to a nearby convenience mart. At Hope's suggestion Anne bought a pack of Marlboro Light 100's. Hope wanted a carton of the same brand. They bought Bic lighters and a large ashtray for Anne's living room. Arriving at Anne's condo, Hope sat on the sofa. She tore open her carton. "Thanks for the cigarettes. This is great! To be honest, I'd teach you for free. My friend Beth showed me how and provided the cigarettes, too. It was kind of weird. I didn't even ask her. She asked me. Said I ought to learn to smoke. Said I'd love it." Hope smiled again. "God, she was right! I do!" Hope tore open a pack of Marlboro Light 100's. "Is it okay if I have a cigarette now?" she asked. "I'd really like one." "Sure. Go ahead." Anne watched Hope put a cigarette in her mouth. Like a veteran, she pushed the childproof button on her lighter and turned the wheel, immediately touching the flame to the end of the cigarette hanging from her lips. When the fire brought the tip of the cigarette to life, Hope exhaled a bit of smoke from the side of her mouth. Then her cheeks caved in, and she took a big, long, hard drag on the cigarette. After several moments her fingers made a "V" and she reached up to remove the cigarette from her lips. As she pulled it away, Anne could see a huge ball of smoke floating inside Hope's mouth. And then - boom! - the smoke was gone, sucked quickly deep inside her lungs. Hope smiled broadly as her 15 year old chest visibly expanded to contain the visiting smoke. She waited several moments and then tipped her head. She began to exhale toward the ceiling an endless stream of blue-gray cigarette smoke. "Wow!" Anne gasped. "You DO know what you're doing." Hope smiled. Intermittent wisps of smoke continued to escape from her pretty little mouth. "Yep," she giggled. "Let me have another puff. Then I'll be ready." Hope repeated her prior performance, taking another drag and deeply inhaling the smoke. "God, that hits the spot," she sighed, and then exhaled a second stream of smoke. "You know," she said, flipping ashes into the ashtray. "It's nice to smoke inside!" "I'll bet," Anne replied. It was showtime! "Okay, kid, show me what to do!" "I can't believe we're doing this," Hope giggled. She passed a cigarette to Anne. "Okay, Anne, light up!" Anne took the cigarette and held it between her fingers. Carefully she placed it in her mouth. She tried flicking the lighter, but was unfamiliar with the operation of the child-proof button. Hope laughed. "Let me do that for you. Oh, I should tell you what to do, shouldn't I?" Anne felt funny with an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. "That would be nice," she replied sarcastically. Hope sighed. "Okay. When the cigarette lights, take a small puff. Like this." Hope demonstrated by taking a delicate puff from her own cigarette and immediately exhaling. "Don't inhale, okay? Just sip it and blow it back out. Otherwise you might get sick. You gotta get used to it. To the smoke, I mean." Hope lit the cigarette. Anne cautiously took a small puff and exhaled. Not nearly as bad or as hard as she remembered. Anne tried again. A small puff followed by an exhale. Still okay. She remarked to Hope that this was easier than she remembered. "What kind of cigarettes did you try when you were a teenager?" Hope asked in response. "Because it makes a big difference." Anne furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure. One of my boyfriends gave them to me. I don't remember the brand. But I don't think they had filters." Hope giggled. "Well, no wonder you got sick," she exclaimed. "Unfiltered cigarettes are way strong! That's why I smoke Marlboro Lights. They're easier to tolerate." Hope took a big drag and inhaled. "Plus, they taste great!" Anne tried again. She felt a slight buzzing in her head. It tasted bitter. But she didn't feel sick. "Maybe I can do this," she smiled weakly. Hope nodded. "You'll be fine. Just keep doing the same thing for awhile. Get used to it. Then I'll show you how to inhale." Anne finished the cigarette. It didn't taste good. But except for the slight buzzing and dizziness in her head, she felt okay. She carefully crushed it out in the ashtray. "You did good, Anne," Hope smiled. "The way Beth showed me was to wait before trying a second one. On the second one I'll show you about inhaling." Hope's grin widened. "That's the best part of smoking. Sucking the smoke into your lungs!" "Sounds lovely," Anne muttered. "What are we going to do while we're waiting?" "We could eat something," Hope suggested. They fixed a snack in the kitchen and sat in the living room to watch television. Anne watched her teenage friend eat potato chips and drink Pepsi. She liked Hope. She was a disarming young lady. Having gotten over her shyness, she treated Anne like one of her teenage friends. Hope talked about boys, movies and magazines she liked to read. Despite her reservations, Anne was having a good time. After half an hour, Hope announced it was time for another cigarette. She showed Anne how to use the lighter and Anne lit her own cigarette. It wasn't that hard. Then Hope explained how to inhale. "The important thing is to mix air with the smoke. At least at first. To do that, you take a drag and hold the smoke for a second or two. Then open your mouth, but keeping the smoke in. Breathe in, pulling air in with your smoke. Almost like swallowing it. Like this." Hope took a medium size puff, held it, opened her mouth and then sucked the smoke down her windpipe. "It dilutes the smoke with air. It's not so hard on your virgin lungs." She winked at Anne and began to exhale. "And then you blow it out. Relax. It's not that hard. Try it." Anne obediently took a puff. She held the smoke for a few seconds, neither inhaling nor exhaling. She opened her mouth, breathed air in and swallowed. She felt a strange tightness in her throat and her chest. She forced herself to relax, fighting off a strong urge to cough. The tingling in her lungs didn't exactly feel bad. It was just ... strange. Her head was now buzzing, but now it was almost pleasant. Anne remembered she needed to exhale. She pursed her lips, the way she'd seen Hope do, and began exhaling. Amazingly, a stream of smoke began to escape from her lips. Faint at first, then growing in volume and intensity, and then fading away at the end. "Congratulations, Anne! You did it. And you didn't even cough." Anne blushed. "I did, didn't I?" She looked at the burning cigarette between her fingers. "I assume the urge to cough will eventually disappear?" "Almost right away. You just need to get used to the way it feels. Try it again!" Anne did. This time it worked even better. She inhaled and this time the tightness in her chest was much more manageable. She watched the smoke escape in another tight stream through her pursed lips. She smiled. So did Hope. "You've got it now," Hope said with enthusiasm as she took a drag of her own. "Just keep it up." She did. Hope gave additional pointers while Anne smoked her second cigarette. She still felt light-headed, but it didn't concern her. She knew the dizziness would quickly pass as her body became more accustomed to nicotine. "So, what do ya think?" Hope asked. "Do you want me to stick around and smoke another cigarette? Or do you just want to practice on your own?" "How much do you think I should practice? How much is enough?" Hope smiled. "What would I do if I were you? Well, my advice is, smoke as much as you can. Smoke 'til you can't stand it. Only practice makes perfect. So practice. Don't worry. It takes awhile before cravings start. You do know about the cravings?" Anne looked blank. She shook her head. "Man, the cravings," Hope repeated. "When you start getting hooked. Addicted. It's when you have to have a cigarette. When you'll do anything to have a smoke." Anne still looked vacant. Hope shook her head. "You haven't thought about this, have you?" "I guess not," Anne admitted. "If you learn to smoke, I mean REALLY learn to smoke, you're going to get cravings. Get hooked. You start needing nicotine. If you're not willing for that to happen, you'd better quit right now." "How long does it take for that to happen?" Anne asked. It was true. She hadn't thought about the possibility she might become addicted. Hope smiled reassuringly. "For most people it takes awhile. They start smoking a few cigarettes a day. That's what I did. You just smoke when you feel like it. You enjoy it. You enjoy smoking with your friends. But you don't have to. Slowly that changes. Slowly you increase the number of cigarettes you're smoke. You hardly notice. Like you decide to have two cigarettes when before you'd only smoke one. Your body is telling you it needs more nicotine and more often. Pretty soon you start sneaking out to have a cigarette by yourself. And not all the time. But then it happens more often. Boom! You can't live without it. You go crazy." Hope winked at her. "You're hooked." "That sounds terrible," Anne said. "But that hasn't happened to you, has it, Hope? You don't smoke all that much." "You don't understand, Anne. It's not a matter of how much you smoke," Hope responded. "It's how long you smoke. I'm hooked. I admit it. I need my six or seven cigarettes a day. I'd love to have more, but I need at least that many. I don't know how long before you get hooked. For me, it took several weeks. All of a sudden I needed to smoke every day. Whether it was convenient or not." Anne frowned. "Maybe I shouldn't overdo it? Won't that get me hooked faster?" Hope giggled. "Yeah, maybe. Between a rock and a hard place, aren't you? You need to practice to get good enough to convince this guy you can smoke. No, you should practice as much as you can. Try smoking in front of the mirror. To work on technique. You need to get so it's second nature to light up, hold the cigarette, flick ashes into the ashtray, inhale, and exhale. You know, the whole thing. Work on it." She smiled. "But remember, it's not my fault if you can't stop." Anne looked at her young friend. "Hope, thank you. I mean it. You're a good kid. If there's ever anything I can do for you, let me know." Hope gave a mischievous look. "Well," she said slyly. "There is one thing. It would be a big help." "What?" Hope looked at the floor. "You don't have to do this. But I'd like to smoke in your condo. Instead of going outside? I mean, if you're smoking here anyway." "You're looking for a hiding place from your mother, aren't you?" Hope blushed. "Yeah, I guess. What do you think?" Anne walked into the kitchen. She took a spare key from the key ring on the wall and handed it to Hope. "Keep this. Don't lose it. It's the extra key to my front door. I may be crazy, but I believe you're an honest kid. When you need a place to smoke come on in. Just lock the door behind you if I'm not here. Please stay out of my bedroom and my office. But smoke in the living room as much as you want. I trust you." "God, Anne, this is so cool!" She gave her a hug. "Thanks!" Suddenly she looked embarrassed. "Would it be okay if I brought a friend?" Anne began to object, but Hope quickly explained. "Only Beth. She's my best friend. The one who taught me to smoke. She's really nice. But she can't smoke at her house either. We get together every day. It would be really cool if Beth could smoke here with me. Would that be okay?" Anne didn't know how she could say no. "No parties?" she asked. "No, no parties. I promise. Just the two of us smoking." "Okay," Anne agreed. "But if I find you've let others in, or partying, I go to your mom." She smiled a wicked smile. "You see, Hope, I've got leverage on you. You can't afford to screw up." "No, and I won't." She hugged Anne again. "Thanks for the carton of cigarettes. For the key. For everything." She paused. "For someone so old, you're pretty cool!" Now it was Anne's turn to blush. "Thanks, Hope. You're pretty cool, too." Instead of leaving, Hope turned around. "Hey, Anne, can I have one more cigarette before I go? I'd really like one." Anne nodded. "Sure," she replied. "Why not? Can I join you?" "That would be fabulous!" Hope sat back down on the sofa and opened her pack of Marlboro Light 100's. She waited for Anne to get a cigarette and flicked her lighter for them both. "You know," Hope said, her cigarette hanging in her mouth. "It's pretty cool to smoke with you." Anne took an initial drag and inhaled, like she'd been taught. It didn't feel bad. And it didn't taste bad. It felt and tasted kind of pleasant to be smoking. Anne pursed her lips and exhaled toward the ceiling. The stream of smoke was a large plume. She stopped her exhale before it all escaped. "You know," she smiled. "I like smoking with you, too, Hope." She finished her exhale as she spoke. "Really, anytime you want to smoke this weekend, come over. I'll be here practicing." Anne took another drag. The second drag was longer and a bit harder. She was becoming accustomed to this tingling feeling in her chest. To the taste of the tobacco. To the sensation of having smoke in her nose and her throat. "Watch out, John," Anne thought with a sense of accomplishment. She slowly and deliberately exhaled the smoke. "Because I'll be ready for you on Monday!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Robin picked up the ringing telephone. "Hello?" "Hi, Robin, this is Lisa. Lisa Robinson." Robin winced. "Oh, hi, Lisa," she replied into the receiver. What the hell does she want? Robin wondered. The answer was not long in coming. "I called to apologize for the way we acted last night," Lisa said. "We were pretty hard on you. About you trying to quit smoking. We gave you a lot of shit. I wanted to make sure you weren't mad at us." "No, I'm not mad. It's okay," Robin replied. That wasn't true. She was upset. But since Lisa was being conciliatory, what else could Robin say? "I should apologize, too," she went on. "I was a jerk. Now that I'm not smoking, I probably made you guys uncomfortable by talking too much about quitting. You have to make your own decision about that. I didn't mean to be a wet blanket." "You weren't," Lisa assured her with a giggle. "You didn't notice us smoking any less, did you?" Robin winced again. No, she didn't. Lisa went on. "Tell me about it, Robin. What made you decide to quit?" Robin explained the problems she'd had with her mother, the hassle and stress of being unable to smoke at work, and feeling like a pariah around non-smokers because she always needed a cigarette. While she talked, Robin heard the tell-tale "click" of a lighter. It was the sound of Lisa lighting a cigarette. Then she heard the familiar "whoosh" sound of Lisa exhaling into the phone. Oh my God, Robin thought. She's having one right now! Jealousy overwhelmed her. "Are you enjoying yourself, Lisa?" she concluded sarcastically. "You're smoking, aren't you?" "Uh, yeah," Lisa admitted. "I am. Force of habit, I guess. I love to smoke while talking on the phone. You understand, don't you?" She did. In the old days Robin chain-smoked on the phone. It was one of her most persistent triggers. She always lit up on the phone. She sighed. Listening to Lisa puff and exhale, memories flooded back. The familiar urge for a cigarette grew stronger. Lisa's voice brought her back to reality. "So, Robin," she asked. "How's it going? It's been four weeks now. Are you going to stay quit?" Robin hesitated. The right answer was yes. But Lisa knew her too well to accept any bullshit. "I don't know, Lisa," she admitted. "I do pretty well at work. My new job helps. A new place with new routines makes it easier. I don't think about it much at work. But there are still too many times when I miss it." "Like when?" Lisa asked. "What times are most difficult?" Robin sighed. God, what times weren't? "I don't know," she answered slowly. "One is driving. I smoked four cigarettes every morning on the way to work to get my nicotine level up before the day started. So I didn't need another one until lunch. And I miss smoking with meals. Going out to bars is still hard. I want to light up in the worst way when I'm drinking. And talking on the phone. But the worst is the smell of coffee. It drives me nuts if I can't have a cigarette. I've started drinking tea instead." "You're sure you want to stay with it? Is it worth it? Quitting for good?" Robin didn't say anything for several moments. "God, Lisa, I don't know. I really don't. In the long run I know it'll be better for my health. But I thought it would be easier by now. Believe me, it isn't. To be honest I'd kill for a cigarette right now. Talking about it is so hard. And being with other smokers is the worst! The smell of cigarette smoke makes me salivate. That's why I had to leave last night. I knew I'd blow it if I stayed. I can't be with anyone who smokes. I'm sorry. Maybe it'll get better." "I hope so," Lisa answered. "Sorry you're having a hard time. Isn't it funny how smoking gets under your skin? How much you depend on the lift you get from nicotine? And the pleasure you get from lighting up and inhaling? God, I don't think I'll ever quit." Listening to Lisa was unbearable. I've got to end this, Robin thought. Before she could, however, Lisa went on. "There's another reason I called. Our firm is looking for more secretaries. You know the secretaries in our firm are allowed to smoke at their desks?" "Yeah, I know," said Robin succinctly. She'd heard Lisa, Heather and Bonnie talk about it. In the past she felt jealous. Now she felt afraid of what Lisa would say next. "If you decide you want to come back to the life of a smoker, I'd put in a good word for you. You're a good secretary, Robin. The kind we're looking for. Let me know. I can get you an interview. You'd like it here! If you're smoking, that is." "That's very kind, Lisa," Robin smiled ruefully. "But I'm not giving up. Shit, I've gone through hell the last four weeks. I'm not ready to flush it. Not yet." "I'm not saying you should. Look, I can't solve your problems with your mother or the fact that society treats smokers like shit. But I can solve the problem of not being able to smoke at work. Because you could smoke here at Johnson & Myers as much as you want. I think you can get a job here. If you're interested." "Lisa, I appreciate the offer. I'll think about it." She took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll be honest. I can't fight this damn thing forever. If it hasn't gotten better by next Sunday, then we'll talk. I'm not saying I'm going to start smoking again, but damn! I can't keep this up. I'll call you next weekend. Okay?" "Fair enough," Lisa replied. "I'll plan on talking then." The conversation ended. Lisa hung up and lit another cigarette. Robin's not going to make it, she mused. Lisa took a big drag and pulled the smoke into her lungs. No, and it won't get easier, either. She thought about Robin's pain with an evil grin on her face as she exhaled. Yeah, Robin's as good as smoking again! Lisa took a third drag. Robin, she smiled, this one's for you! On the other end, Robin hung up, too. Shit! I'm going to stay away from all the damn smokers in the world for the next week, she decided. I'm not going to talk to them. I'm not going to see them. I'm not going to smell their damn cigarette smoke. If I can distance myself from temptation, I'll be okay. It's got to work! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- By mid-Saturday afternoon Anne had smoked two more cigarettes. She was happy. Smoking wasn't as hard as she thought. Still not pleasant; not yet. But not as difficult as she imagined. Anne called John Crawford's office and left a voice mail message. He was often in on Saturdays, but apparently not today. In her message she asked if they could meet at Robinson's Bistro at six o'clock on Monday. She said she had an urgent matter to give him to work on. Anne smiled. She didn't tell him the service she wanted involved his cock between her legs! Anne looked at her watch. It was two thirty. Hope told her she should practice. As much as possible. She'd had three this morning. Two more since then. Time for another cigarette, she sighed. She really didn't want to smoke again, but she knew she needed to work at it. She started to remove a cigarette from her pack. Before lighting up, Anne thought about Hope's other suggestion. I should try smoking in the bathroom, she decided. I can watch myself in the mirror, work on my technique. Hope's right. I've got to look accomplished if I'm going to pull this off. Anne picked up the cigarettes and ashtray and walked into the bathroom. She pulled the vanity stool in front of the mirror. She set the ashtray on the counter and sat down. You look good, she smiled at herself. God, you always look good! Her hair looked great. This was a "big hair" day. Her long, blond hair looked best when it seemed almost out of control. Watching herself, Anne placed a cigarette in her mouth. Slowly, deliberately, she clicked her lighter, turned the wheel and lifted the flame to the end of the cylinder hanging from her lips. As the flame touched, she took a small puff and exhaled from the corner of her mouth, like Hope did. Smoke from the end of the cigarette began to spiral up in front of her face. You look like a bad girl, she thought. Putting the lighter on the counter, Anne's fingers made a V and reached for the cigarette as she took a bigger drag. The tip glowed red and smoke filled her mouth. The taste was bitter but not unpleasant. Removing the cigarette, she smiled and half-way opened her mouth. The smoke hung in the opening. She quickly breathed in, and the smoke disappeared. Anne felt it enter her lungs. The deep tingling, like the taste of the smoke itself, was not unpleasant. Anne turned and waited. She tipped her head back, pursed her lips and blew. The smoke started to escape in a tight stream toward the ceiling. She stopped and watched her exhaled smoke drift lazily in the air, brightly illuminated by the florescent lights over the bathroom mirror. She felt a sense of accomplishment, but she knew more smoke was left inside her body. She wanted to try a different approach, so she breathed out through her nose. The smoke reappeared, exiting her nostrils in twin streams. She was pleased. "Not bad," she said to the girl in the mirror. "Not bad at all." To her surprise, more smoke escaped while she talked. She smiled again. Anne practiced holding the cigarette. She tried holding it upwards at the side of her head. That looked best, she decided. She posed, adjusted, and posed again. She wanted to look alluring, seductive, sexy while she smoked. She took another drag, inhaled, and exhaled toward the mirror while she watched. Brightly accentuated by the florescent light, the smoke she exhaled hit the mirror head-on and then bounced back toward her, obscuring her reflected image for a moment until it disbursed. A cigarette is a great prop, she decided. No wonder so many women in the movies smoke. A few simple movements of the cigarette, a few variations in the way she inhaled, exhaled, and tapped ashes into the ashtray, all sent different messages. Suddenly she heard a knock on the door. "Shit," she muttered with a sense of panic. Then she smiled. I've got nothing to hide. I'm an adult. I can smoke if I want. Holding her cigarette, Anne walked to the front door. She looked out the peep hole. It was Hope. She opened the door. "Nicotine fit?" she asked. "Hi," Hope whispered. "Can I come in?" Without another word she entered the condo. Anne closed the door behind her. Hope pulled her pack of cigarettes from her pocket. "How's it going?" "Just fine," Anne replied. Without waiting, Hope flicked her lighter. She took a big first drag, and then a second one before finally removing the cigarette from her mouth. Anne watched as Hope began exhaling a great volume of smoke from her mouth. Much more impressive than Anne's own efforts so far! She made a mental note. In learning to exhale, Anne was determined to become at least as proficient as this 15 year old child! "Don't you want to sit down?" she finally asked. "Sure," said Hope, continuing to exhale as she walked to the sofa. "Where's the ashtray?" "In the bathroom," Anne answered as she walked to retrieve it. "I was practicing in there when you knocked. In front of the mirror. Like you told me." She set it on the coffee table and sat down across from Hope. "Very good," was the reply. "How's the student doing?" Anne took a puff of her own. "Okay, I guess. I still don't find smoking pleasant. It doesn't seem bad. But I hoped it would start to seem nicer." "Don't worry, it will," Hope smiled. "It most definitely will. God, before you know it, smoking will start to seem SO nice that you'll wish it didn't." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. "Because you won't want to stop! Anyway, Mom's coming home in an hour. I figured I'd come over and smoke a couple of cigarettes before then." She took a deep drag and inhaled. "Then I'll go home, brush my teeth, and change my sweatshirt." "Why?" Anne asked. "Because of the smell. Otherwise she'll smell the smoke on my clothes. I always wear this sweatshirt when I smoke. Never wear it around Mom. Safer that way." Exhaled smoke mixed with Hope's words as she talked. She took another drag. "You were really ready for a cigarette, weren't you?" Anne asked. "Yeah," Hope answered, exhaling again. "This is my last opportunity before Mom gets back. Beth and I went to the mall for lunch. With her mom. We managed to sneak a couple smokes while her mom was shopping. But I wanted more." She grinned. "I wouldn't smoke so damn frantically if I could smoke whenever I wanted." She took another drag. "I try to make the most of every cigarette!" Very interesting, thought Anne, as she saw little wisps of smoke continuing to escape from Hope's mouth and nostrils each time she breathed. Smoking affects every part of her teenage life. Where she goes, what she wears, everything. Everything she does is determined by whether it helps her smoke more often without detection. Slowly Hope began to settle down. Her puffs became less frequent, her inhales less frantic. "God, that's better," Hope said as she crushed out her first cigarette. With the first cigarette's ashes still smoldering, Hope quickly removed a second one and lit up again. Hope smoked the second cigarette in a more leisurely fashion, although still savoring every inhale. This time she played with her exhales, alternating between blowing smoke up in tight streams and exhaling twin streams from her nostrils. Anne joined her on the second cigarette. Not because she wanted one, but because she wanted to be sociable. And because she knew she needed practice. She was beginning to feel queasy. She was smoking too much. She knew what was happening, but decided to ignore it. Progress, she thought. I've got to keep making progress. "You look more comfortable now, Anne," Hope allowed, coming close to the end of her second cigarette. "Do you feel more comfortable smoking?" "I guess so," Anne admitted. "I'm starting to feel sick. I assume that's normal?" "Too much nicotine," Hope replied. She saw the look of dismay on Anne's face. "Don't worry. Completely normal. Your body will adjust. Don't worry about it. Try eating something; keep something in your stomach. Sometimes that helps. Don't keep smoking if you get sick. Give it a rest. It'll go away. When it does, light up again." She grinned. "I sound like some kind of consultant, don't I?" Anne took another puff. It wasn't smoked all the way down, but she crushed her cigarette out. "I've reached my limit," she smiled. "That's okay," Hope nodded. She took two drags before crushing hers in the ashtray. "Keep it up and watch how you feel. Getting your body used to nicotine is the important part. But it happens fast. Soon you'll start really liking smoking. You'll look forward to lighting up." Her grin turned mischievous. "And you won't want to stop!" Hope prepared to leave. "I'll still be able to quit if I want to, won't I?" Anne asked. "I mean, what if John turns me down? I'll want to quit smoking." "Maybe, maybe not," Hope teased. "You never know with cigarettes. You're playing with fire! Some people can smoke for a long time and quit like that! Others get hooked real quick and can't ever stop." She rolled her eyes. "You just never know with cigarettes," she repeated. She grinned. "So his name is John, huh?" Anne ignored the last comment. She hadn't meant to say his name. "Well, it's worth the risk," she said with firm resolution. "And it's not a big risk. I'm not worried. If I still like smoking after I'm finished with John, I guess that's okay." She looked at Hope. "I mean, I'm not going to marry the guy or anything. I just want to fuck him. It will probably only last a little while. That's the way it is with most affairs. The way I see it, when I'm done with him, I'll be done with cigarettes!" "But the question is, Anne," Hope responded. "Will cigarettes be done with you?" She opened the door. "I've got to go. See you tomorrow." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- At five thirty on Saturday Anne's phone rang. It was Gretchen. "What do ya want?" her old roommate asked. After introductory pleasantries, Anne told Gretchen what was up. About John. And about developing a new habit. "I've started smoking, Gretch," she announced. Laugher filled the phone. "I can't believe it," Gretchen replied, almost breathless from giggling. "After all those years complaining about my smoking? This guy must really be something! You're willing to join us nicotine addicts just to get at his cock?" "I didn't complain all that much, did I?" Anne objected. "I guess not," Gretchen admitted. "But I'm still surprised. It's not often someone your age decides to start smoking. Most people your age decide to quit smoking!" "Let's not get into the age thing, Gretch," Anne objected. "I'm as old as you are. Thirty-two is not old." "Maybe. But it's old to start smoking. Most people start as teenagers. Like me." "Do you think it's a mistake? For me to start?" "I didn't say that. Did I ever tell you I tried to quit smoking last year?" "No," Anne replied. "Tell me about it." "It was after a big trial. Which I won, by the way," Gretchen added proudly. "I got really stressed. I was smoking over two packs a day while the trial was going on. Smoked like a fuckin' demon every time we took a break during the trial. Lucky for me the head of the agency I represented smoked. It was funny, both of us smoking like maniacs planning strategy during breaks. I was thankful he smoked. Because if he hadn't been a smoker, I'd probably have lost my client. Or my mind!" "Well, why'd you decide to quit?" "Like I said, after the trial was over I decided I was smoking too damn much. Over two packs a day. It seemed like time to think about quitting. So I did," she said. "What happened?" Gretchen laughed again. "It lasted fifteen days. I even used the patch. It helped the physical cravings, but not enough. I was a basket case. I wanted a cigarette so bad I could taste it every fuckin' minute. I snapped at people, I lost my temper, I was even more of a bitch than usual." She paused. "And that's saying something!" "Why didn't you stick with it? Eventually you'd have made it. Wouldn't you?" "I don't know," Gretchen admitted. "But it wasn't worth it. One day I was so pissed I thought I'd spit. I got home after work and was storming around my apartment. You know, banging things, swearing at the walls. I said to myself, Shit! Why am I doing this? I'm going to die someday anyway. I'm having a fuckin' cigarette! I found a pack of B&H's in my old winter coat pocket. I kept 'em there for an emergency. I lit up. God, did it feel good! I smoked five cigarettes in a row. Without stopping! Then I realized I still had on the damn patch. God, did I get a nicotine high!" She laughed. "It was great!" "So you started smoking again after that?" "Sure did," Gretchen said. "It took some effort, but I managed to stabilize at only a pack and a half a day after starting again. So I managed to cut down a little in the process. But I'm never quitting again." "That's interesting, Gretchen. Are you sorry you're still smoking? Should I run the risk that I'll get hooked, too?" "It's not a risk, Anne," she replied. "It's a certainty. But no, I'm not sorry. You know me. I like to smoke. Always have. It makes me feel good. As long as I keep it under control, I'm happy. And for me, less than two packs a day is under control." My God, Anne thought. That sounds like a lot. I smoked less than half a pack today and I feel absolutely satiated. "So, do you want to get together and smoke, Anne?" Gretchen went on. "I gotta see this! My old roommate smoking! What're you doing tonight? You want to go out?" Anne paused. "Sure," she answered. "Where do you want to go?" "The Hole in the Wall," Gretchen replied. "That's my most frequent hang out, when I go out anymore. Why don't we meet for dinner? We can stay and have a few drinks. What do you say?" "Okay," Anne replied. "I'll meet you there in half an hour." Anne was nervous. Would Gretchen laugh at me? Would I look stupid? Like a teenager who didn't know what she was doing? Gretchen has a razor sharp sense of humor. She'll give me shit all night if she has any reason to tease me. Should I do it? No, I'm going, Anne decided. There was no way she'd keep up with Gretchen's smoking. Hell, she couldn't even keep up with Hope. But practice makes perfect. This would be good. Once again she thought about John Crawford. Hopefully she'd see him Monday. And he'd see a new Anne. One he'd be willing to fuck! She smiled. She put her cigarettes and lighter in her purse and headed for the door. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Robin turned off the TV. It was still early. Only ten o'clock on Saturday night. But she didn't want to go out. If she went to her favorite bars, she'd run into her smoking friends. It was safer to stay home and watch TV. Safer, and very boring. She'd broken up with her boyfriend six weeks ago. Now she wished she hadn't. Jim had been a good guy, willing to commit to the relationship. It was Robin who was afraid of commitment. She liked to play too much. She was too young to settle down. Jim smoked. Breaking up made it easier for Robin to think about quitting. Jim would never quit. At least Robin couldn't imagine it. He loved his Winston 100's. Full flavor. Too strong for her. But tonight she missed him. He was slow and deliberate, passionate yet so sweet in bed. He loved to play with her blond hair, and massage her breasts. She sighed. She thought about how nice it would be to be with Jim again. As she did, she began to play with her breasts. It would be so nice to have him touch her. She put her fingers inside her panties. Right here! Yeah, she sighed. And so nice to smoke with him in bed again .... God, Robin startled. What the hell am I thinking? Shit, I can't even think about fucking without thinking about smoking, too! She pulled her fingers out of her panties and turned the TV back on. "God damn!" she said aloud, to no one in particular. "I've got to stop thinking about cigarettes!" |
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