Carousel, Part 5

CAROUSEL
***by Somers

***Special Thanks to: Berry and the Lurker
***Song by: The Hollies



PART FIVE: NOW WE TAKE OUR RIDE TOGETHER; NO MORE CHASING HER.



The middle-aged man took a long drag from his Marlboro as he sat in the
boxster  sportscar outside the little store. The window was cracked slightly
open, and he heard the throbbing of the engine while he felt the rythmic
vibrations in the powerful steel beneath him. It felt good to smoke while he
relaxed and enjoyed the pleasure of the moment.

His eyes were transfixed on the window of the store, through which he could
see a clear image of the beautiful, 50-something clerk sitting at her chair
and staring out into the night. He knew that the glare from the lights inside
the store and his tinted windshield prevented her from knowing that he was
watching, and this made him feel at ease.

The CD program again returned to the same song.

"Riding along on a carousel, trying to catch up to you.  Riding along on a
carousel, will I catch up to you?  Horses chasing 'cause they're racing.  So
they ain't so far.

On a carousel, on a carousel..."

He looked at her eyes as they stared unfocused into the inky blackness that
she must have been gazing at from within the bright interior of the store.
These eyes were decorated by the dark lashes and he admired the way that her
blonde/grey hair framed her face. She wore a smooth red lipstick, but not an
overly dark color. He saw her arm circle upward and her head turn to place
her lips close to the filter tip of the Marlboro. Then those beautiful lips
parted, and encircled the shaft of the cigarette while her eyes closed and a
look of concentration spread over her face.

He rubbed the inside of the windshield and adjusted the defroster to assure
clear viewing.  He saw her eyes close and her fingers spread apart while the
end of the cigarette began to glow brightly. The whole act was carried out in
slow motion. Her cheeks began to bend inward as the drag continued, and he
loved the way her whole face seemed to become involved in the effort of
drawing the essence from the object in her lips. It was as if this act were
of such importance to her that she needed to focus completely upon it and
exclude the rest of the world from her thoughts.

For many seconds her lips sucked on it and continued to draw life from it. In
response, the member glowed and sparkled and its ash grew while the man
watched and imagined the sensation of her smoke inside of himself. He could
sense love in the embrace of her lips over this object of her desire. He
could feel her enjoyment coming.

After an eternity, she stopped dragging, and clutched the object with her
fingers once more. She removed it slowly from her lips and opened her mouth,
still with her eyes closed. A delightfully thick, white cream flowed from her
mouth and wafted slowly out into the space just beyond her lips, and he loved
the contrast of the pure white color against the red lipstick and the dark
cavern of her waiting mouth behind it.

The cream grew into a round cloud, hanging in the air in front of those wet
lips, then it stopped growing and began to shrink in size quickly. With what
seemed like an attempt at escape, two rivers of smoke began to flow upward,
only to be captured by her nostrils and drawn within her body. The remainder
of the beautiful cloud suffered a similar fate as it was drawn into her open
mouth in a rapid flow. Her lips closed over the event, and all was gone from
sight. The only trace of the event was a small smile that crossed her lips,
and a peaceful look that washed over her face. He sensed a pleasant
fulfillment in that facial expression, one of peace and contentment.

Her eyes opened and looked into the infinite blackness beyond the window once
again. Her shoulders rose upward to help expand the space within her chest,
and he delighted in watching the edges of the blue store-jacket spread apart
to reveal more of the curve of her breast beneath. The smile and the peaceful
look were still present on her face, but had deepened somehow, perhaps by
that mirthful look in her eyes; as if she had just greeted an old friend,
someone that she loved very much.

He took another drag from his own cigarette and inhaled, feeling the familiar
sensation of pleasure in his own body, yet believing firmly that she held the
real clue to complete and total smoking enjoyment. The smoke was good, but
the sight was better, and he exhaled his treat while she still sat staring
and smiling into the night and absorbing hers.

Her head finally tilted upward, and her lips parted slightly. Then a thin and
slow stream of diffuse, grey smoke began to wander out. It grew in length and
width until it collided with the cold glass of the window, and he saw her
gaze turn toward it and watch it pensively as it continued to flow
ceaselessly from the small space between her moist lips. He could sense a
certain admiration in her expression, almost as if she had just given birth
to a new child, and this life within her was now something that she could see
and enjoy in a completely different way.

Her eyes turned down to gaze at the ash at the tip of her cigarette, then she
leaned back and the cigarette disappeared for an instant while she tapped it
in the ashtray out of his view. When she brought her hand around in front of
her face once more, it was fresher and brighter than it had been, and she
continued to stare at the long and round object that had helped her give
birth to the beautiful cloud. She smiled at her cigarette. He sensed that she
loved it.

The man squirmed in his seat, feeling an overpowering desire to run into the
store and seize this woman and kiss her and taste her smoke. There was no
question in his mind that she understood the power and beauty of smoke in the
same way that he did. He had an intense need to be with an experienced and
committed woman with whom he could share that essence, and he wanted to feed
her with the life-giving substance that burned so brightly in its long, round
container. He would treat her very well, and let her take as much or as
little as she wanted, but he would give all to her if he could. All of it for
her to take within her body and absorb it. All of his love.

"Nearer and nearer by changing horses, still so far away.  People fighting
for their places just get in my way.  Soon you'll leave and then I'll lose
you still we're going round.

On a carousel, on a carousel, round and round and round and round round and
round and round and round with you.  Up, down, up, down, up, down, too. "

He began breathing very deeply, and feeling sweaty and hot. He pushed the
electric window and it buzzed down a few inches to let some cooler air into
the car. He saw her again move her cigarette very slowly toward her lips and
close her eyes, preparing for another long pull, and then he felt an intense
pressure from within his body. It was a slightly unpleasant feeling, this
pressure, and although he knew it had been coming, he had taken no steps to
prevent it. Despite the discomfort, it was something that gave him a certain
pleasure.

Her face again became a mask, the cheekbones standing out prominently and the
eyes squeezed shut. It was accented by the brightly glowing orange tip of the
cigarette and those long, red nails that straddled it. This drag was clearly
delivered with more strength, energy and extreme dedication to that lover
between her lips. Her head tilted slightly to one side, as if a change in
position might allow more of the precious, creamy substance to enter her
mouth.

He felt as if he were going to explode, and squirmed in his seat, feeling at
once very uncomfortable yet thrilled by the beauty of the smoking goddess in
the window. His eyes glanced rapidly to the sign: "Restroom", then quickly
back to her, unwilling to miss a single instant of the scene.

He noted that her fingers looked slightly wrinkled and not perfectly
straight, yet functioned flawlessly as they closed over the cigarette to
grasp it firmly. He could easily tell that her actions were partly driven by
many years of the habit, but the rest of her behavior went far beyond that
mere, automatic smoking reflex. In the lines of her face, the curl of her
lips and those slow, deliberately drawn-out movements, she revealed an
intense passion for smoking that he found absolutely thrilling. He had
observed and watched many women smoke throughout much of the 56 years of his
life, probably since he was 15 or 16 years old. Hundreds, perhaps thousands
of female smokers had unknowingly given him significant pleasure and
happiness, but there were none such as this.

Her mouth and her eyes opened, and this time he saw her tongue come slowly
out and curl upward, as if to act as a cup for the creamy fluid that drifted
out. He looked closely at her eyes and noted that they were turned slightly
inward, pointed at some object much closer than the dark night sky beyond. He
then realized that she was watching her own image reflected in the window,
seeing that same thick ball of smoke that he watched resting on her tongue.
The tongue slowly curved upward, scooping the smoke straight from the air and
rolling it into her mouth. She suddenly snapped her mouth shut and he saw her
chest heave rapidly as she sat up straight in her chair and opened her eyes
more fully. This time she did not grin, but put on a genuine and complete
smile, revealing her perfect teeth between those full and colorful lips.

His hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles began to
whiten, and he noticed that his other hand was trembling as he raised his
cigarette to his lips to take a needed puff. He trembled not from fear or
anger, but from a powerful level of excitement that welled up from deep
within his body.

Unwilling to blink, he endured the stinging in his drying eyes in order to
catch every instant of the acts of this gorgeous female as she made love to
her cigarette. He moaned in response to the unbelievable pressure as he saw
her wrinkle her nose and smile fondly at her burning companion, then he began
to pound his fist on the dashboard as she ceased smiling, tilted her head
back and exhaled two thick rivers of smoke from her nostrils.

"Sweet darling !" he exclaimed.

"As she leaves, she drops the presents that she won before.  Pulling ducks
out of the water, got the highest score.  Now's my chance and I must take it,
a case of do-or-die.

On a carousel, on a carousel, round and round and round and round round and
round and round and round with you.  Up, down, up, down, up, down, too. "

It was 11PM by the bright digital clock inside the humming boxster. He gazed
at the numbers on its face, unwilling, at first, to believe that he had been
sitting here watching for over two hours. As he reflected on his
nearly-amnesiac behavior, he tried to recall the numerous and awe-inspiring
smoking acts that he had witnessed this night. How many cigarettes had this
woman smoked ? He could not count them, so vivid were the images of the
creamy smoke, the warm smiles, her long hair waving as she tossed her head,
and the delightfully white exhaled vapours that had flowed from her beautiful
and mature face. He understood that he must return home very soon, but his
rational thoughts were soon swept away as he saw her stand up from her chair,
toss her hair, and place yet another long, white cylinder of tobacco in her
lips. She held up that same lighter which he had been watching for hours, and
he imagined the sound of it clicking as the bright flame licked upward and
sparked the tip of the cigarette to life.

Instead of surrounding it with the V of her open fingers as she had done all
the times before, she left it in her lips while she sucked on it, apparently
needing both hands for another task. He saw her lean back and remove the blue
store-jacket, exposing her taught black fleece top and revealing her full
bustline that had previously been concealed. The cigarette stayed in her lips
as she drew the garment off each shoulder in turn, and the tip glowed
brightly in a continuous drag as she held the jacket in front of her and
began to fold it.

Inside, she carefully turned the sides of the jacket over, being careful to
straighten the sleeves behind it. She laid it on the counter while the
cigarette burned in front of her face, and then curled her lips slightly to
make a small opening for inhaling the puff. While continuing to fold the
article of clothing very maticulously, she drew on her cigarette once more,
and then finally removed it from her mouth when the jacket was neatly
arranged. She gazed at the blue garment fondly while breathing the smoke
deeply into her lungs, and ran her fingertips softly over the red embroidered
name: "Joan". She smiled at the word, and at the burning cigarette that she
held in her fingers, just inches from the worn, blue cloth. Then she tilted
her head back and exhaled a long, thick cone of smoke that rolled and curled
upward toward the fluorescent lights in the ceiling above.

With the cigarette back in her lips once again and glowing brightly, she bent
down and tucked the jacket into the empty drawer beneath the counter.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered softly, the cigarette dangling from her
lips.

The man in the boxster strained to see what she was doing, but she was
temporarily hidden from view behind the advertising signs and the racks of
cigarettes. Suddenly, he saw her emerge from behind the counter, the
cigarette still in her lips as she closed her purse and placed the strap over
her shoulder. He saw her walk toward the back of the store and watched her
arm move upward to remove the cigarette from her lips. A long cloud of smoke
then curved around her head and trailed behind her as she walked through the
door at the rear of the shop.

The lights began to extinguish, first the spotlights above the gas pumps,
then in a sequential series from left to right across the store, finally
plunging the interior into darkness. He watched and waited, then saw that
orange and yellow glowing tip coming closer and swaying slightly from side to
side. He could almost make out the tip of her nose behind the burning
cigarette, but it dimmed slightly before he could be sure.

The door opened, and she emerged onto the sidewalk. The cigarette in her lips
had grown short, yet was held just as firmly as it had been when it was
fuller with life. It sparkled with the slight breeze of the night air, and it
brightened up significantly as her cheeks once again worked to pull on it.
She had a big set of keys in her hand, and she struggled slightly to turn
them and yank on the door in order to assure that the place was secure for
the night. After placing the keys back inside her purse, she took a final and
strong drag on her cigarette, then quickly withdrew it from her lips and
tossed it down on the walkway. Her foot reached out and rubbed the remains
into the concrete while the few nightlights in the overhang above illuminated
a large breath of exhaled smoke.

Incredibly, her hand reached into her bag and removed a pack of cigarettes.
She waved her wrist slightly to shake one further out of the wrapper, and
then seized it in her lips. Without lighting it, she replaced the pack in her
purse and closed the bag. Then she took the unlit cigarette from her lips and
held it in her fingers while she turned and saw the idling boxster still
parked in front of the store.

The man heard a knock at the passenger window, so he pushed the button and
the glass slid down.

"Time to go home now, hun," she said.

"Yes, I guess you're right," he replied.

"How was it ? " her lips broke into a warm smile as she reached for the door
handle.

"Unbelievably beautiful! Becky, you are one gorgeous smoking woman!" Geoff
replied.

She crinkled her nose at that remark, then held the unlit cigarette to her
lips.

"Light me up and let's go, you crazy old fool," she said.

"Now we take our ride together No more chasing her.

On a carousel, on a carousel ... "

THE END

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