Cigarette Fairy, Part 3

This fictional account contains adult language and sexual themes.  If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read further.  The persons and
events described in this work are purely fictional.  Any similarity to actual
persons or events is strictly coincidental.  Copyright 2003 by SSTORYMAN.
All rights reserved.  Permission is hereby 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 or using it.

THE CIGARETTE FAIRY

3.	The Progression.

   Bonnie grinned at her friend.  "God, Taylor, that's weird!  I wish a
cigarette fairy would put cigarettes in _my_ purse!  It's cool, but it's
fuckin' weird.  No wonder you're pissed at your mom.  So you're thinking of
smoking just to get back at her, so you can piss _her_ off?"

   Taylor nodded.  In the shade at a table covered by an umbrella they sat
outside the food court.  It was almost noon.  Lunch hour was nearly over.
They'd finished their food.

   "I might not play the card, but I'd love to be able to accuse Mom of
getting me to start smoking.  It wouldn't be true, of course, but she'd never
know.  It's not like I'd ever smoke all the time or anything," she went on.
"But like I said, Mom won't know that!"

   Bonnie got out her Marlboro Lights 100's and put a cigarette in her mouth.
"I started smoking a couple years ago," she smiled, lighting up.  After the
cigarette got going she exhaled a cloud of smoke around the dangling
Marlboro.  She hit harder a second time and inhaled.  "God it's a nasty
habit," she admitted caustically, holding smoke in.  "It's crazy, really.
Smoking and I have this weird 'love-hate' relationship."  She paused for an
exhale.  "On the one hand I love to smoke.  I feel so sad if I can't have a
cigarette, especially when I'm out with my friends.  On the other hand it's
_so_ bad for me.  God, I don't know," she shrugged, hitting on it again.
"Most of the time, though, the 'love' part far outweighs the 'hate' part.
Maybe I'll quit someday," she added pensively, exhaling once more.  "But not
now."

   Taylor got a cigarette from her purse.  Following her friend's lead she
put it in her mouth.  "It's time for me to try this again," she grinned.  "I
just hope this time it doesn't make me sick."

   Bonnie laughed.  "Be careful.  Don't overdo.  Your mom made you overdose
and that'll make anyone sick.  If you go easy you'll be fine.  Go ahead," she
grinned.  "Let's see."

   Taylor pulled on her long blond hair, moving it behind her shoulders
instead of by her face.  The cigarette dangled from her mouth.  Bonnie gave
her a lighter.  Taylor lit up.

   The blond teenager imitated Bonnie's technique.  She puffed to make sure
her cigarette was lit and exhaled smoke around the dangling Marlboro.  She
puffed again, this time inhaling some of the smoke down into her lungs.

   "Very nice," Bonnie commented as Taylor began to exhale into the breeze.
"Perfect.  How do you feel?"

   "Fine," Taylor shrugged, and it was true.  "I guess the other day my lungs
got must've gotten used to the smoke or something.  Anyway it didn't feel
bad.  How'd it look?"

   "Like you smoke," Bonnie smiled smugly.  "Can you feel the buzz?"

   "Yeah, a little," she admitted with a guilty smile.  "It's not bad right
now.  But I don't want to feel all queasy again."

   "You won't," Bonnie assured her.  "Just don't take too many hard drags.  I
bet your mom made you puff over and over rapidly in a row.  Right?"  Taylor
nodded.  "Of course.  She _wanted_ you to overdose.  Instead just take a
small drag whenever you feel like it.  Otherwise just get used to holding it,
trimming it in the ashtray, all that stuff."

   For the next six minutes Taylor took half a dozen hits on her cigarette.
Each time she inhaled.  Bonnie was right.  This time the smoke didn't make
her sick.  She felt light-headed but only a little.  It was almost enjoyable.
The 'buzz' Bonnie referred to was cool.  Within limits Taylor felt she might
enjoy smoking.  The negative incident with her mom taught her to inhale.
Under Bonnie's careful tutelage her negative experience was superceded by a
more moderate, tempered approach.  It was a methodology Taylor didn't mind.
It was sort of cool to smoke outside with her new friend.

   Unlike Taylor, Bonnie dragged hard and often as she smoked.  No novice,
Bonnie eagerly sucked smoke deep into her lungs every time, repeatedly
inhaling and exhaling large amounts of the creamy, milky white substance.
When they were about done Taylor had to ask.  "Tell me, Bonnie.  How much do
you smoke?"

   "Me?  Oh God, I don't know.  A pack a day, maybe more.  Why?"

   "Just wondering."  Taylor took her last hit and, like Bonnie, dropped her
cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under her heel.  She lifted her chin
and exhaled upward.  "You look like you really like it when you smoke."

   "Yeah, I told you, the love-hate relationship," the older girl laughed.
"If I don't smoke for awhile I really need it.  Usually I light up as soon as
I come outside.  I didn't today only because I didn't want to freak you out."

   "Don't worry about me," Taylor assured her friend.  "I just appreciate you
helping me."

   "No problem," Bonnie replied, her eyes twinkling as they headed back to
the store.  "It's no problem at all!"

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

   Pamela felt peculiar driving to the office.  It was two o'clock.  She just
spent four hours with her new client Sheryl.  She shook her head in disgust
as she thought over what she'd done.  She was such a fuckin' hypocrite!
Despite her lecture to Taylor she ingratiated herself to Dr. Richardson by
smoking three cigarettes, all to maintain the stupid facade that like Sheryl
she was a smoker.  Was the new business worth it?  Regrettably it was.  She
wanted to break into the commercial market.  Sheryl Richardson was her meal
ticket.  In any kind of business the first client is always the hardest one
to get.  But after one success you can market yourself to the next client,
then the next, and then the next one after that, and so on.  Pamela wanted
commercial clients but felt shitty about having smoked to get her foot in the
door.

   The problem was that it wasn't unpleasant.  Not at all.  She was amazed
how well and how easily she adjusted to returning to the role of being a
smoker hanging out with a girlfriend.  Her new client expected her to play
the part and it proved surprisingly easy.  Too easy.  As she headed back to
the office she sniffed her fingers.  "Ugh.  God damn it!  My fingers stink!
My hair and my clothes probably do, too.  Shit, the things I do to keep
clients happy!"

   The bad thing was Sheryl still hadn't seen an office she liked.  Pamela
felt sure Sheryl would like one of the buildings they visited that morning.
But she didn't.  On a couple occasions Pamela tried to hide her lack of
familiarity with the lease terms the lessors requires.  She winged it.  But
if Sheryl noticed she didn't show it.  "Sheryl likes me," she reassured
herself.  "That's the important thing.  Next time she'll see something she
likes.  I'll get her to sign up a lease and it'll be the last time I ever
have to smoke!"

   That made her feel better.  She wouldn't tell Mick, Taylor or Candice.  It
was better if they just didn't know about this ?.

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

   At dinner that night the conversation in the Patterson home was subdued.
Taylor said nothing of her smoking experiment.  Pamela likewise kept quiet
about her adventure with her new client.  They both wondered who was the
cigarette fairy who planted cigarettes on them.  But neither was about to ask
incriminating questions, to avoid disclosing what they'd done.

   After supper Taylor went to the Caldwells to see Ashleigh.  She told her
old friend about smoking at lunch with her co-worker Bonnie.

   "And how was it?" her friend wanted to know.  "Tell me."

   Taylor shrugged.  "Good.  It's easier if you take it slow.  Mom made me
smoke too fast last Friday.  I got too much smoke too quick.  If you don't
rush it it's actually pleasant."

   "I've thought a lot about smoking ever since we talked," Ashleigh
admitted.  "I couldn't believe my mom said she and Dad wouldn't stop me if I
want to smoke.  She said it like it's common knowledge.  But it's the first
time _I_ ever heard it.  It got me thinking, though.  Now that you smoke and
you like it, and since my parents won't give me shit, I might just try it,
too."

   "Wait a minute, Ash," Taylor interrupted.  "I don't smoke.  I'm just
experimenting.  There's a big difference.  My experiment has a purpose.  It's
just to get back at my mom.  You don't have any reason to do it."

   "Yeah, I know," Ashleigh agreed.  "But now I'm curious.  Mom said I can
smoke if I want.  So I might give it a shot.  I don't know.  I'll see."

   Ashleigh's opportunity came soon.

   The next day Ken and Brooke Caldwell left for work.  Nina had morning
soccer practice so she was gone.  Ashleigh's summer job didn't start till
noon.  She was home alone on mornings her sister had soccer practice.  The
recent discussions about smoking peaked her interest.  It bothered her that
her best friend Taylor tried something she hadn't.  But she knew what to do.

   Ashleigh found an open pack of her mom's cigarettes.  She and her dad
always left some out around the house.  Her heart raced as she shook out a
Marlboro Light 100 and put it between her lips.  "Taylor's already done
this," she said aloud.  "Mom and Dad don't care.  God, Nina's right," she
told herself, referring to her little sister's comment.  "Something about
this habit _must_ be great.  Otherwise Mom and Dad wouldn't do it all the
fuckin' time!"

   The petite brunette impetuously decided to watch herself smoke.  She went
to her folks' bathroom to stand in front of the mirror over their double
sink.  Her mother's ashtray was already strategically placed on the
countertop.  Brooke often smoked while putting on makeup.  Ashleigh smiled as
she saw the long white cigarette dangle carelessly from her lips.  It looked
so evil, so wicked and decadent, sitting there in her mouth like that.
"You're such a bad girl, Ashleigh," she cackled at the female looking back at
her.  Then she groaned.  The sight of herself in the mirror with a cigarette
between her lips looked wicked.  It made her want to touch herself.

   Ashleigh clicked the lighter and touched the flame to the tip of the
Marlboro in her lips.  She puffed gently as it began to burn.  It didn't
exactly taste pleasant but that wasn't a surprise.  She knew smoking took
time to get used to.  She took several puffs, each time blowing smoke out.
"My God, Ashleigh, you're so fuckin' bad," she told the teenager in the
mirror.  She grew more and more excited the longer she watched herself
smoking.

   Living with smokers had already prepared Ashleigh's lungs for the smoking
experience.  She felt no ill effect whatsoever from the experiment.  After
her fourth puff she decided to try inhaling.  "That's what real smokers do,"
she told herself.  "They breathe it into their lungs!"

   She tried it.  She worried she'd cough.  She needn't have.  Though the
smoke felt heavy and constricting in her chest it also felt exhilarating.
She didn't gag.  Instead she pursed her lips and  exhaled a thick milky white
stream from her mouth toward her reflection.  "Wow," she exclaimed in
amazement, watching the image of the teenager in the mirror.  "That's cool!"

   Finally she could bear it no longer.  Masturbation was something Ashleigh
enjoyed often and right now it seemed like she had to touch herself.  After
tapping some ashes in the ashtray, her free hand went to her crotch and she
rubbed herself through her shorts.  She didn't know why but the sight of
seeing herself smoke a cigarette in the mirror deeply aroused her.  It made
her want to touch herself all the more.  Maybe it was because, despite her
parents' professed acquiescence, she knew she shouldn't smoke.  Or perhaps it
was because in movies the female characters who smoked were almost always bad
girls.  But whatever the motivation Ashleigh repeatedly stroked herself
through her pants while she finished her first cigarette until she finally
climaxed.

   "God, that was fuckin' great," she groaned as she carefully removed all
traces of her visit to her parents' bathroom.  "I definitely have to try that
again!"

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

   Sheryl Richardson breezed into the office Tuesday morning and greeted
Paula her lovely assistant with a warm, gentle kiss.  After their interlude
with Bill Johnson and his amazing animal magnetism, Sheryl and Paula felt a
strong mutual sexual attraction, and an attraction for other beautiful women
in general, especially those who smoke.

   "So, Sheryl, how'd it go with the realtor?"

   Sheryl grinned and hung up her jacket.  "Paula, it was great, but not for
the reasons you'd expect.  To be honest I don't think Pam Patterson's too
bright.  She has no experience in commercial real estate.  She's nice and
quite attractive.  But she only does residential homes.  However, the thing
is I found a pack of cigarettes on the floor of her car.  God, I was so
excited!  I immediately knew _this_ is the woman I want to work with to find
a new office.  If Pamela smokes like us then I hope it takes us a long, long
time to find a new place!"

   "So Pamela smokes?"

   "That's what's odd," Sheryl went on.  "I told Pam I smoke, of course, and
that I want a realtor I can smoke with.  I made it clear I'd sign her up but
only if she's a smoker.  We looked at some properties and then had lunch.
Despite her protests to the contrary I sensed Pamela may not really be a
current smoker."

   "Why?"

   "When Pamela smoked she seemed too awkward, like someone out of practice.
As soon as I saw the cigarettes in her car she was horrified, more than I
expect from someone who's merely embarrassed about being found out.  She gave
me a pathetic story about the cigarettes belonging to her daughter.  But
she's _way_ too young to have a daughter old enough to smoke!"

   "Ah, I see.  So I take it Pamela's damned good looking?"

   "Oh yeah!  Like I said she's a cutie," Sheryl sighed lasciviously.  "Tall,
thin classic girl-next-door type.  But something's fishy about her smoking.
Maybe she's trying to quit or something."  She giggled.  "God, if that's true
then I'm really glad I made her light up and smoke with me at lunch.  Anyhow,
I'm definitely looking forward to seeing Pamela smoke again."

   Paula nodded.  "Is she single?  And is she bi?"

   "I guess she's married.  We didn't get into sexual preferences so I don't
know.  But I plan to take my time and enjoy the scenery.  I told Pam I want
to see lots of properties.  She was a little put off.  I think she hoped to
close a quick sale.  But that's her problem.  If she smokes with me I intend
to drag out this process as long as possible."

   "Sheryl, you're terrible," Paula laughed.  "Can I come along next time?
After all, I'm your assistant.  I might have input.  I want to see Pamela
smoke, too, especially if she's cute."

   "Sure, what the hell, why not?  I'm leaving early to go with Pamela at
four to see more buildings.  We can close up early and you can come with.  I
told Pamela we must have dinner after we go through the buildings.  That'll
force her to smoke again.  If you come you'll be right there to see it,
Paula, my dear."

   "Delicious," sighed Paula, reaching her hand inside her skirt and up into
her panties.  "Oh yeah!  Absolutely delicious."

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

   At eleven Taylor went to lunch with Bonnie at the food court again.  As
soon as they finished eating Bonnie got out her cigarettes.  She asked Taylor
if she wanted one.  The blond girl nodded.  "Yeah, sure," she smiled.  "Why
not?"

   It was an honest question.  Why not indeed?  She liked smoking with
Bonnie.  It was so totally different from that horrid experience she had with
her mom when her mom forced her to.  She was slowly growing accustomed to
cigarette smoke and the nicotine it delivered.  It wasn't bad.  She was
beginning to understand smoking's appeal.  After lighting up she hit on her
all-white cigarette.  She gave her friend a satisfied look.  "You know, I
kind of like this."

   "I can tell," Bonnie smiled, exhaling a plume of her own into the noon-day
air.  "Smoking grows on you, doesn't it?"

   "God, it sure does," Taylor agreed, dragging on the Marlboro Light 100
again.  She pulled the smoke deep down into her chest and held it in longer
this time.  The warm, full feeling was very pleasant.  She pursed her lips
and slowly released an endless stream of smoke through them.  "Yeah, it's not
bad at all."

   "That's why you need to be careful," Bonnie warned.  "Look what happened
to me.  It sneaks up on you.  I tried smoking at parties with friends in high
school.  I liked it.  It was no big thing.  But since I liked it I always
thought I'd have just one more.  I was totally in control, I told myself.  I
thought I could stop any time.  But I was wrong.  Pretty soon I realized I
couldn't stop.  All I could think about was smoking my next cigarette.
Before I knew it, Taylor, I had become a smoker.  So be careful.  The same
thing can happen to you."

   She nodded.  Yeah, Bonnie was right.  That definitely _could_ happen.  She
put her cigarette in her mouth and drew on it.  The smoke felt good entering
her lungs.  She smiled and began to exhale once more.  Yeah, and maybe it was
already happening ?.

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

   Ashleigh smoked once more later that morning.  Nina would be back at one
but her sister never entered their folks' bathroom.  Smoking there was safe.
Ashleigh returned to the spot in front of the mirror and lit up another of
her mom's cigarettes.  It was easier this time.  It seemed effortless to puff
on the cigarette and especially to inhale the smoke.  The strange, awkward
dizzy feeling took longer to arrive and she felt more confident breathing
smoke into her chest.

   She looked at the clock.  It was almost noon.  She imagined Taylor smoking
with her new friend Bonnie at that moment.  The idea that they were doing it
simultaneously seemed significant.  Maybe sometime they could smoke together.
That thought made Ashleigh happy.  She and Taylor did everything together.
It was another reason this seemed like a good idea.  That, and the fact that
she liked thinking of herself as a bad girl.  She looked at the teenager in
the mirror and laughed.  "Ashleigh Caldwell," she said to her reflection with
mock seriousness.  "God, I didn't know you smoked!"  "Oh, yes," she replied.
"I know it's evil but it simply can't be helped.  I'm addicted, you see," she
laughed.  "I can't stop myself from smoking!"

   It wasn't true but saying it made Ashleigh wet between the legs.  She
sighed and put the cigarette in her mouth.  Her hands had work to do.  She
was ready for another round!

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

   "One more before we go back?"

   Taylor smiled at Bonnie and nodded.  "Oh, what the hell?  Yeah, why not?"

   She took another Marlboro Light 100 from her friend.  No harm in having
another, she decided.  She needed the practice, she assured herself.  Anyway,
smoking with Bonnie was fun.

   As Taylor lit up she saw two guys watching her at a nearby table.  At
first she thought they disapproved.  After all, she barely looked 16.  Her
girlish features made sure of that.  But suddenly she knew the stares weren't
disapproval.  No, they were looks of appreciation, of great interest.  Those
guys _wanted_ to watch her smoke!

   She remembered what her dad said.  He liked how her mom looked smoking.
"Hmm.  Maybe more guys feel that way," she mused to herself.  She dragged on
the Marlboro Light 100 and pulled the smoke in her chest.  It felt good down
there.  She undeniably liked the feeling.  She opened her mouth to exhale.
Yeah, there were lots of reasons to keep doing it, she decided.  She looked
at Bonnie and smiled.  "Thanks for sharing with me."

   "No problem, Taylor," Bonnie grinned.  "It's fun having someone to smoke
with."

   "Yeah, it is," Taylor replied.  "I agree."  She glanced at the boys
nearby.  They were still watching, trying not to be too obvious.  She raised
the cigarette to her lips and hit on it.  She smiled as she sucked more smoke
into her chest.  Yeah, this was great!

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

   All three women piled into the minivan.  Pamela was discouraged.  God,
nothing she showed Dr. Richardson and her assistant Paula pleased them.  The
last office building met all their criteria.  But instead of agreeing to sign
the lease Sheryl had only muttered something about wanting to keep on looking
for something better.  Damn!  It was a total waste of two hours!

   "Hey Pamela, what do you say we grab a bite to eat?"  Sheryl smiled from
the passenger seat.  "I hope you have time so we can debrief together."

   She fudged.  "Yeah, I guess I can," she mumbled, looking at her watch.  "I
need to get home before too late.  But I guess my husband and daughters can
fend for themselves."

   "Wonderful," Sheryl effused.  "I have a great idea where to go.  It's a
bar two miles from here.  It has great food and drinks and really amazing
ambiance.  Very smoky, too," she giggled.  "What do you say, girls?"

   Paula nodded eagerly.  "That sounds great, Sheryl.  Okay with you,
Pamela?"

   The driver nodded.  "Yeah, that's fine."

   Sheryl smiled.  "You know, ladies, I'm dying for a cigarette.  I could
really use one."  She paused.  "Pamela, are you _sure_ we can't smoke in your
car?"

   "Uh, I'd rather you didn't."  She felt a little irritated.

   "Don't worry, Pamela.  It's no problem if you say no," Sheryl laughed.
"We'll be there in a couple minutes.  It's just that all that walking around
has got me _so_ ready for a smoke!"

   "Yeah, me too," Paula added in agreement.  "Doesn't it drive you nuts if
you can't smoke, Pamela?"

   She smiled politely.  "Oh, yeah," she casually nodded.  "But I deal with
it.  I guess all of us smokers do that, don't we?"  She was trying to sound
like one of the girls.

   In five minutes the three of them were at a table in the smoking section
of the bar Sheryl recommended.  It was dark and smoky.  At least no one will
be able to see me, Pamela comforted herself.

   Sheryl and Paula lit up.  Pamela knew she had to smoke also to keep
playing the role.  She got the same pack of Marlboro Lights 100's from her
purse with a disposable lighter she bought.  She gingerly put one in her
mouth and lit up.

   Paula watched with interest.  "It hits the spot, doesn't it, Pamela?"

   "Yeah, it sure does," she nodded, exhaling streams of smoke.  "Really."

   The charade troubled Pamela.  Smoking with Dr. Richardson and Paula her
perky assistant was like a real social gathering, the kind she enjoyed in the
old days when she really did smoke.  Sheryl ordered a pitcher of beer for the
table.  Pamela sighed.  God, she used to _love_ smoking in situations like
this!  Well, one, maybe two cigarettes was all that'd be required of her.  Oh
well.  Surely the next time they looked at offices Sheryl would find
something she liked.  Pamela raised her cigarette to her lips and dragged
hard.  Doing this was completely harmless.  It simply made Sheryl happy.  And
a happy client refers her friends and associates, Pamela assured herself.
That was the _only_ point of this exercise!

   But an hour and a half later the pitcher on the table was empty.  Pamela
didn't remember how much she drank or how many cigarettes she had.  But she
felt good; good and loose.  She also was a little drunk.  She shook her pack
of Marlboro Lights 100's.  Nothing.  She made a face.  "Oh shit," she giggled
impulsively.  "I'm out of cigarettes!"

   Her new friends Sheryl and Paula offered her theirs.  Pamela frowned.
Sheryl smoked Benson & Hedges 100's and Paula Newport 100's.  Neither were
lights but she chose Sheryl's brand.  "I never was much of a menthol girl,"
she giggled.

   Pamela took a B&H between her fingers.  "Thank you, Doctor.  May I assume
this is just what the doctor orders?"  She giggled at her own joke and raised
it to her lips.  Paula lit her up.

   "You bet it is," laughed Sheryl, watching Pamela begin her ninth cigarette
in two hours.  "I smoke these all the time.  I never smoke those pitiful
lights, Pam.  I feel if you're gonna smoke, then God damn it, you may as well
really smoke!"

   Pamela exhaled a thick stream of smoke upwards.  "You know what?  These
are good!"  And it was true.  The rich tobacco taste of Sheryl's Benson &
Hedges was quite satisfying.

   Paula asked a question.  "Now Pam, tell me.  When was the last time you
smoked anything other than lights?"

   Pamela giggled as she took another big sip of beer.  "Oh God, girls, I
don't know.  It's been years, I'm afraid.  Just years!"

   Sheryl grinned.  "Well, then, Pam, you did yourself a favor by running
out.  Now you have to smoke my Benson & Hedges the rest of the night.  And
mine are better!"

   Pamela looked at her watch.  "Oh shit," she muttered.  "I need to go.  I
told Mick I'd be home by 8:30."

   "Oh come on, Pam," Sheryl kidded.  "Your husband can get by without you
for one lousy evening!  Just tell him this is damned important client
entertainment.  After all, you want me to sign a lease for a new office using
you as my broker, don't you?"

   Pamela gulped.  "Yeah, of course," she smiled nervously.  She raised the
cigarette to her lips.  "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."  She drew on
the Benson & Hedges.

   "Fine.  Then call and tell him you had to party a little with your
important clients.  Or I can call.  I'll tell him we girls wanted a night out
to do some smoking, drinking and partying!"

   Pamela exhaled over several successive breaths.  "Uh, I guess I don't need
to call him.  I'll stay.  It's fine, Sheryl.  Really."

   "Good.  I'm sure soon Paula and I will see a place where we'll want to
sign a lease.  That'll be good for all of us, won't it?"  Sheryl signaled the
waitress.  "Honey, we need another pitcher of beer," she said loudly.  "We're
gonna be here awhile."

   Pamela politely smiled and dragged on her cigarette.  How in hell would
she explain to Mick why she smelled like cigarette smoke and beer?  She
sighed while exhaling twin streams of the creamy white substance through her
nostrils.  Trouble was, she really didn't mind pretending to be a smoker at
that moment.  She didn't mind it at all.  That was what scared her!

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