Cigarette Fairy, Part 4

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

4.	The Plot Thickens.

   Ashleigh began a new daily ritual.  Each morning after her mom, dad and
sister left, she retreated to her parents' room to stand in front of the
bathroom mirror smoking a cigarette.  After a few days one cigarette turned
into two and eventually to three.  Each time she smoked she masturbated.  She
loved seeing herself with a cigarette in her mouth while she pleasured
herself, touching her breasts and clit and ultimately coming to climax.

   Taylor also developed a new routine.  She and Bonnie had lunch at the same
time each day.  The Patterson girl joined her friend in smoking a cigarette
every day.  Soon the one cigarette after lunch became two, one before and one
after.  Taylor began joining Bonnie for an afternoon cigarette break.  She
still didn't consider herself a smoker.  She was just developing smoking
expertise, preparing for an eventual confrontation with Pamela, one in which
she'd make her mom feel terrible for making her smoke that fateful afternoon.

   Unbeknownst to her daughter Pamela was experiencing her own crisis.  After
a marathon drinking session with Sheryl and Paula she showed them more
buildings the next day.  As always Sheryl made her smoke afterward.  To keep
up her charade Pamela got herself a pack of Marlboro Lights 100's beforehand
at a gas station.  It was weird buying cigarettes but she needed them or
Sheryl would've thought it strange.  Finally Sheryl settled on a new office.
Pamela was relieved and delighted, delighted to finally close a deal in the
commercial real estate market and relieved since she felt sure it was the end
of her smoking charade.

   She never told Mick or the girls about her little smoking deception.
After all, it was only something done for client development.  The night she
went drinking with Sheryl and Paula she told Mick the truth, at least partly;
her clients smoked!  But of course she smoked, too, which she didn't mention.
That night she smoked a total of fifteen cigarettes.  It hadn't bothered her,
either.  If anything it swiftly became second-nature.  That, not the smoking
itself, was what troubled her.

   Unfortunately, after that fateful night Pamela began to think about
smoking constantly.  That hadn't happened in years.  But from then on, when
driving she thought about smoking.  At work she fantasized about it.  At home
relaxing she couldn't shake the thought of lighting up a cigarette and
smoking.  Worse, she even dreamed about it.  In her dreams she was smoking
and she was always happy.  Closing the deal with Sheryl ended her active
participation but the temptation to smoke was rekindled and just wouldn't go
away.

   A couple days after Sheryl signed her lease Pamela had an especially
stressful morning at work.  A client unexpectedly pulled the plug on a new
home purchase which meant she lost a big commission.  She got the message
picking up her voice mail driving back from another showing, and she felt
pissed and disappointed.  Impulsively she stopped for a bite to eat.  It was
only a little after eleven, but she pulled her minivan into the parking lot
of the same bar and grille where she and Sheryl had lunch the first time.

   Inside she sat at a table while finishing her last voice mail messages on
her cell phone.  She clicked it off and opened her purse to drop it inside.
Then she saw it.  Damn, the cigarette fairy had visited her again!  In the
bottom of her purse were two more cigarettes and another small disposable
lighter nestled inside.

   "Oh fuck," she muttered.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"  She felt tense.  She didn't
need this extra stress!  She was upset over losing the commission and now
there she was staring at two delicious looking cigarettes in her purse.  She
groaned.  The truth was they looked _way _ too good!  The way she felt at
that moment it'd be incredibly nice to just give in and smoke them.  Smoking
with Sheryl whetted Pamela's appetite.  Her current distress raised her
temperature to the boiling point.

   "Hi, can I get you something to drink?"

   She looked up.  A petite waitress was standing at her table.

   Pamela groaned.  "I'm sorry.  What?"

   The waitress smiled.  "I just asked if you want something to drink?"

   "Oh, uh, God, I don't know.  Yeah, I guess.  How about some iced tea?"

   The waitress looked around.  The restaurant wasn't busy; it was early.
"You know, I hate to say it but you look upset.  Do you want something
stronger?  Can I get you a beer?"

   Pamela hesitated.  Her waitress badge said her name was Carrie.  "Yeah,
Carrie, I _am_ really stressed.  Trouble is, if I have a beer I'll want to
smoke these cigarettes.  And I shouldn't.  I really shouldn't."

   Carrie grinned.  She was an early 20's brunette with a pleasant, round
face.  "Ah, I see.  Quitting?  God, I tried that.  Pure hell.  But you're
right.  A beer is great, but not if you're trying to quit smoking.  It's
almost impossible to have a beer and not have a cigarette with it!"

   Ordinarily Pamela would've been revolted by this discussion.  But today
she felt almost compelled to pursue it.  "I just lost a big commission," she
complained bitterly.  "I wanted to get something to eat, to distract me.  But
then I found these damn cigarettes in my purse.  And God, I want 'em _so_
bad.  I'm more than a little frazzled, I'm sorry to say."

   Carrie looked from side to side.  She had no other tables at the moment so
she went on.  "Listen, this is none of my business.  But you want my advice?"

   Pamela just stared.  Her waitress couldn't be more than 25, tops.  "Sure."

   "Okay, here it is.  I've tried quitting.  Yeah, it can be done but it's
not worth it.  Sooner or later you feel really, really stressed for some
reason, like your commission thing.  When it happens there's only one thing
you want and that's a cigarette!  I quit for a whole year but then it
happened.  One day I got into a big argument with my boss and shit, I just
had to have a cigarette.  And I did.  One cigarette eventually led to
another.  Pretty soon I was smoking all the time again.  So I say, why even
bother trying to quit?  If you know you'll be back eventually why go through
all that agony?"

   Pamela nodded.  "I quit seventeen years," she whispered.  "A few days ago
I went drinking with some ? some friends who smoke, and I smoked with them.
Now all I do is dream about smoking again."

   Carrie nodded.  "That's what I meant.  You're screwed.  There's nothing
like the feeling of finally lighting up again, now is there?  I mean, it's
pure paradise!  Didn't you think?"

   "Yeah, it sure is," Pamela sighed.  She paused.  "Oh, what the hell!  Tell
you what, Carrie.  Can you move me to the smoking section?  You're absolutely
right.  Yeah, I know you are.  I can't resist.  God, I may as well just give
in.  I want to move to a smoking table!"

   "Okay," she said sadly.  "But I'll lose your table.  I'm not working the
smoking section today."

   Pamela smiled with a twinkle in her eye.  "Then ask to switch sections
with whoever's handling smoking now.  That way, you'll move with me.  Deal?"

   So Carrie did.  Pamela moved to smoking and she sat by a window.  She
ordered a beer from Carrie and turned her attention to the two cigarettes on
the table before her.

   "God, I shouldn't.  I really shouldn't.  If I do I'm liable to do it
again, and again, and again, and ?."  She sighed.  "Shit!  This is such a
fuckin' mistake!"

   Meanwhile Carrie brought her a Bud Light.  Pamela took a sip.  It was only
eleven thirty, way too early to start drinking.  But she felt justified due
to having lost that damned commission.  Unfortunately the beer made her want
one of those cigarettes more than ever!  She'd predicted it and it
immediately came true.

   A couple entered the restaurant and sat at a table near hers.  Both of
them lit up.  It was the smoking section, after all.  The seductive fragrance
of their second-hand smoke slowly wafted its way toward her.  It smelled _so_
incredibly good!  Finally Pamela lost her will to resist.  She picked up one
of the cigarettes, slipped it in her mouth, and clicked her disposable
lighter before she could change her mind.

   She pumped once, to get the cigarette started, and then again, more
forcefully this time.  She inhaled a substantial volume of smoke into her
chest.  God, it felt good!  She closed her eyes and held it inside as long as
she could.  Slowly, reluctantly, she exhaled insignificant wisps of smoke
from her nose and mouth.  Most of it soaked into her lungs.  Almost nothing
was left to come out when she finally exhaled.

   "So I see you finally decided to give in and smoke?  I think that's the
right decision!"

   Pamela looked up.  Her waitress Carrie was standing there with a big grin
on her face.

   "Yeah, I sure did," she admitted guiltily.  "I just couldn't help it.  I
had to."

   "Nice, though, huh?"

   "Yeah, very nice," Pamela admitted with a smile.  She put the cigarette to
her lips and dragged.  She inhaled deeply and held it in once more.  "But I
don't know what I'm gonna do."

   "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, I know the way I am.  Every time I smoke it gets harder to resist
the temptation to do it the next time.  Pretty soon I'm not gonna be able to
stop."

   "And do you want to stop?"

   Pamela sighed.  "No, that's the problem, I don't.  I want to smoke."

   Her waitress shrugged.  "God, then why don't you?"

   "You don't get it," Pamela protested.  "I haven't smoked for seventeen
years.  No one knows me as a smoker, not my friends, not my co-workers, no
one.  My husband and daughters would crucify me if they knew."  She hit on
the cigarette.  "I just lectured my daughter on how evil smoking is.  I'd be
humiliated if I had to admit I'm doing this."

   "Well, it looks to me like you have to do something," Carrie grinned as
Pamela exhaled through her mouth and nostrils simultaneously.  "You don't
look to me like you want to quit."

   "I know," Pamela moaned.  "God, what can I tell my family?"

   "How about the truth?  Look, I did it.  I quit for a year and lots of
people were mad when I started again.  They didn't hide it.  I took lots of
grief but I told 'em to eat shit.  It was no longer negotiable.  See, I
learned I can't be a non-smoker.  Maybe it's bad; maybe I'm an awful person
because of it.  But I _need_ to smoke.  It makes me feel good, normal,
really.  I don't want to try living without it any longer.  I can't."  She
hesitated.  "No sense making yourself miserable trying to be a non-smoker if
you're not."

   "But the health shit?  How do I rationalize what I'm doing?  And the
terrible example I'm setting for my girls?"

   Carrie shrugged again.  "You can only be who you are.  It'd be great to be
a Nobel Prize winning scientist.  But you're not.  And it doesn't really
matter if you wish you were someone else.  No matter how hard you wish you
can only be who you are.  Confucius said 'Know thyself.'  You have to know
yourself.  So if you know you're a smoker, and it sounds to me like you are,
then it's foolish trying to be something else, something you're not."

   "But for seventeen years I wasn't a smoker!"

   Carrie smiled.  "No.  Correction.  Wrong.  From what you said for
seventeen years you didn't smoke.  That's different.  The year I wasn't
smoking I was still a smoker.  In my heart I knew it.  Look, I don't know
you.  I'm not trying to convince you to smoke.  It's a nasty habit.  But
honey, if you can't help it, or if you don't really want to, then it's
asinine to resist."

   Pamela sipped her Miller Light and took another drag.  "God, I don't know.
I have to think about it."  She smiled.  "But thanks for the advice, Carrie.
You're very wise."

   "I'm finishing my degree at night," Carrie smiled.  "In psychology.  You
learn a few things about yourself and others as a psych major."

   Pamela finished her cigarette, ate a sandwich and drank her beer.  Then
she smoked the second Marlboro Light 100.  As she did she thought about the
cigarette fairy.  God, someone put the cigarettes in her purse!  It still
made her mad.  But apart from the cigarette fairy she wouldn't have gained
Sheryl Richardson as a client.  So it wasn't as if it was a total disaster.
But now she was once again helplessly enmeshed in a renewed web of nicotine
dependence.  She wanted to know who was responsible.  Maybe her waitress
Carrie was right.  Maybe there was nothing to be done about it.  She might
have to smoke again.  But she sure as hell intended to find out if it was
Mick or Taylor, and let the guilty party have it before she finally
surrendered!

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

   Taylor and Bonnie sat in the food court.  Taylor lit up a cigarette.

   "Buying your own now, I see?"

   Taylor smiled.  "Yeah, well, I felt guilty bumming yours," she explained
diffidently.  "So finally I bought myself a pack."

   "Get carded?"

   "No," she smiled.  "I fill up at a gas station near home.  This Indian guy
works there and he likes me.  He always smiles when I get gas.  I figured if
I flirted with him a little he wouldn't card me.  And he didn't.  It worked
perfectly."

   Bonnie hit on her cigarette.  "Taylor, you've been smoking regularly for a
week now.  Are you going to keep going?"

   "God, I don't know," she admitted.  "I do sort of like it."  She raised
the cigarette to her lips and dragged hard.  "Really, I like it a lot," she
confessed with a naughty giggle, holding smoke in her lungs.  She pursed her
lips to let it out.  "I thought I'd just learn so I could use it against my
mom if the opportunity came up.  But God, now I don't know, Bonnie."  She
tapped an ash to the ground.  "Perhaps I don't want to use it against my mom;
because then she'd make me quit.  And I don't think I want to quit."  She let
those words reverberate in the mid-day air.

   "Do you now find yourself wishing you could smoke more, not just at work?"

   Taylor slowly nodded.

   Bonnie laughed.  "Congratulations, Taylor.  I think you've become a
smoker!"

   "Yeah, I know," the blond girl agreed.  "God, I didn't think it'd happen,
or if it did, that it'd happen so fast.  But I'm afraid it has.  I don't want
to stop, Bonnie.  I don't."

   "Welcome to the club, Taylor," she sighed.  "It happened to me when I was
your age.  I tried smoking to be sociable but soon I wanted to smoke all the
time.  When my parents found out they shit a brick!"

   Taylor shivered.  "Damn, I don't want to think what my mom would say if
she knew.  I can never let her know!"

   Bonnie smiled.  "But what about the cigarette fairy?  For awhile you found
cigarettes in your purse or your pockets, and so did your mom.  Is that still
happening?"

   She nodded.  "Yeah.  Yesterday for example I found two more cigarettes in
my purse.  I didn't put them there.  But I didn't say anything, of course.  I
just smoked 'em.  I don't know if it's still happening to Mom or not.  She
hasn't said anything about it for awhile."

   "Who do you think is doing it?  And why?"

   "I wish I knew," she sighed.  "Mom thinks it's me.  She also suspects Dad
but he swears it's not him.  It could be my sister Candice, I guess, but I
don't know what motive she'd have or where she'd get the cigarettes."  She
paused to hit on her Marlboro.  "I almost wonder if it's Mom herself.  Maybe
she's doing it, both to me and to herself, because she's looking for an
excuse to start smoking again?"

   "Yeah, you wish."

   "Actually, yeah, I do," Taylor nodded, exhaling.  "God, it'd be so great!
Maybe she'd even let me smoke, too, if she started smoking again."

   "Do you think that's possible?"

   "I didn't till Mom told us about her visits from the cigarette fairy.  She
thought someone was tempting her.  If she didn't find it tempting why refer
to it that way?  So who knows?  All I know is I want to keep smoking.
Realistically, though, I need to hide it at least for now."  She sighed.
"But at some point I'll find out who the cigarette fairy is.  I'm almost
scared to know, though.  I mean, if it's Dad, why would he want _me_ to
smoke?  That's weird.  And if it's Mom?  I can almost imagine it but it'd
also be weird.  If it's Candice, God, I'm clueless about her motive."

   "Maybe the fairy will screw up," Bonnie offered.  "Then you'll learn who
it is and what's going on.  In the meantime my advice is, enjoy yourself!"

   Taylor lit up another cigarette.  "Don't worry, Bonnie.  I plan to!"

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

   Brooke Caldwell cursed.  How could she forget the IS maintenance report?
For hours she worked on it last night but then left it in her bedroom.
Sometimes she wondered if she'd forget her head if it wasn't attached!

   It was close to noon.  She turned onto Morning Street and pulled up in
front of the house.  "I won't go in through the garage," she muttered.  "It's
quicker to just run in the front door."

   She figured Ashleigh might still be sleeping.  She often napped in the
mornings till time to go to work.  Brooke didn't knock or ring the bell.  She
took her key, unlocked the front door and quietly bounded up the steps to the
master bedroom suite.

   She opened the door and walked in.  She gasped.  There stood 16 year old
Ashleigh in front of the vanity mirror with a burning cigarette perched
between her lips!

   "Oh my God," Brooke exclaimed.  "Ashleigh!  What the hell are you doing?"

   The pretty teenager froze.  She looked mortified.  Immersed in her morning
smoking routine she never heard the front door or her mom ascending the
stairs.  She said nothing but she knew it didn't look good.  She was smoking
her second cigarette in a row, wearing only her bra and panties.  She'd been
playing with herself and her panties were damp in the crotch.

   "Shit," Brooke went on.  "Ashleigh, I don't believe it.  You, smoking?
Shit!  How long has _this_ been going on, for God's sake?"

   "Uh, yeah, Mom, I guess I am," the busted teenager finally admitted.  She
guiltily took the dangling cigarette from her lips.  "But not for long.  I
haven't been doing it for too long."

   Brooke's heart raced.  This was a critical juncture, a defining moment.
Her concern over the forgotten IS management report evaporated.  She felt
betrayed, disillusioned and upset.  She sat down on the bed.  "Why, Ashleigh?
For God's sake, why?"

   Ashleigh decided to show no contrition.  She tapped an ash into the
ashtray on the vanity and turned to face Brooke with a self-assured smile.
"Mom, after Taylor told us what her mom did I got curious.  I wanted to see
what smoking is like.  You said you don't mind if I want to smoke."

   "I _never_ said that," Brooke spat back.  Now she was mad.  The irritation
coupled with the savory aroma of her daughter's cigarette made her want to
smoke, too.  But she fought the urge.  "God damn it, Ashleigh, I told you we
don't want you to smoke.  We've never wanted you to, or your sister, either.
It's a nasty habit.  Shit," she grumbled.

   Surprised and mystified by the angry outburst Ashleigh still refused to
give ground.  "Mom, that's not what you said!  You said you wouldn't stop me
if I wanted to."  She took a deep breath.  "Well, I want to smoke now.  So
there!"

   Brooke buried her head in her hands.  "I don't believe it.  Shit!  God,
Ashleigh, I was only trying to look cool in front of your friend.  I wanted
to seem more liberal and open-minded than that bitch Pamela Patterson.  But
honey, I don't want you to smoke.  It's so bad for you!"

   Ashleigh suddenly felt sorry for her mother.  But she couldn't give in.
"Mom, you said you can't worry about things you can't control, like me
wanting to smoke.  Those were your exact words!  I remember.  I only tried
smoking because you said you wouldn't mind.  I like it, Mom.  I really do.
I've been smoking every morning all week and now I don't want to stop.  Are
you gonna try to make me, despite your promise?"

   Finally the stress became too much.  Brooke could resist no longer.  She
opened her purse, got out her Marlboro Lights 100's and placed a cigarette in
her mouth.  "Look, Ashleigh," she commanded as she lit it up.  "Look at me.
I can't fuckin' help myself.  Whenever I feel stressed, like I am now, I
_have_ to smoke."  She took a long, hard drag on her cigarette.  "Do you want
this to happen to you?  Do you really want to be a smoker like me, somebody
who can't stop herself from smoking when she's tense?"  She exhaled a long
stream of smoke upwards.  "Think about it, honey.  Think about it long and
hard!"

   Ashleigh smiled.  "I wouldn't mind being like you, Mom.  Really.  You're
the coolest mom I know.  You're much nicer than Taylor's.  And that thing you
said about not minding if I wanted to smoke?  Well, it only confirmed what I
already knew.  You're the best, Mom.  If I turn out to be just like you I'll
be delighted.  I mean it."

   The words melted Brooke's heart.  "Oh my God, honey; that's so sweet!  But
damn it, it's not the point.  Look at me!  Here I am smoking a cigarette and
at the same time I'm trying to talk you out of it.  God, it's pathetic,
that's what it is.  Just pathetic!"

   Taylor hadn't taken a drag off her cigarette since Brooke came in.
Standing by the vanity she now tapped another ash in the ashtray.  With
misgivings she raised it to her lips.  Despite her discomfort she knew it was
important to make a statement at that moment, one she could only make if she
did this in plain view.  She pulled on her Marlboro and inhaled.

   "Mom, you're wrong."  She pursed her lips to exhale.  "It's not pathetic.
Not at all.  Truth?  I like the fact that you smoke.  You're not afraid to be
different from everybody else.  You don't worry about political correctness.
You _love_ to smoke.  I know you do; I've heard you and Dad say it in just
those words dozens of times.  Well, now I want to smoke, just like you and
like Dad, too.  I'm sorry I hid it from you.  But I didn't want to say
anything till I was sure that I wanted to smoke for real.  But I'm sure now.
Very sure.  I want to be a smoker, Mom!"

   Brooke sorrowfully shook her head after hitting on her cigarette.  She
inhaled.  Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.  "It's not too late,
Ashleigh.  You can't be addicted yet.  You can still get out, unlike me.  If
you're smart you will; get out, I mean."

   Ashleigh sat down beside her and put her arm around Brooke's shoulder.  It
felt strange to be holding a cigarette while sitting right beside her mother.
But it didn't matter.  She had to do it.  She couldn't back down.  "Mom,
don't you get it?  I don't _want_ out.  I want in!  I want to smoke.  I want
to be a smoker like you, Mom.  Smoking makes me feel good.  You understand
that, don't you, Mom?  I know you do."

   Brooke looked up.  Her tears were visible now.  "God, Ash, I _do_
understand.  That's the damn problem.  I do.  You're right; I like to smoke.
I enjoy smoking.  I always have.  But for some reason I hate like hell seeing
you turn into a smoker, too."

   "Mom, you and Dad always tell Nina and me to dream big, because we can
accomplish whatever we want in life.  Well, I want to smoke.  I like smoking.
I'm sorry if it makes you sad.  But you said you wouldn't oppose me if I
wanted it.  Did you mean that or not?"

   Brooke sniffled.  Reaching out she tapped her dangling ash into an ashtray
on a nearby table.  "God, I don't know."  She dragged on her cigarette and
exhaled while talking.  "I mostly said what I did to embarrass Pamela
Patterson.  She's such a prick!  I wanted to look cool, to be
super-understanding and super-liberal.  I never expected you to take me up on
it.  It never occurred to me that you'd really want to smoke!"

   "Well, I do," Ashleigh announced.  "So I guess I'm asking permission.  I'm
officially asking you to follow through on what you promised me in front of
Taylor the other day."  She smiled.  "You yourself admitted it'd be awful
hard to stop me from smoking if I really wanted to.  So let's not make it a
point of contention.  Why don't you just accept it and let me smoke?"

   Brooke groaned.  "I'll think it over and talk to Dad.  I don't know what
he'll say.  God, I wish I never said anything about it to you in front of
Taylor.  None of this would be happening if I hadn't!"

   "I don't know about that," Ashleigh grinned.  She decided it was high time
to further reinforce her announced intent to become a smoker.  She returned
her cigarette to her lips.  "After what happened to Taylor I might've decided
to smoke anyway.  It made me curious.  But what's done is done.  I just need
to know if we're gonna be open and honest like you said, or if from now on I
need to sneak around.  Because I want you to know, Mom, I plan to keep
smoking from now on!"

   Brooke took a last hit on her cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray.  "I
have to get back to work," she mumbled.  "I left this report on my nightstand
this morning.  We'll talk about this when I get home tonight.  In the
meantime I'd appreciate it if you didn't smoke in the house."

   Ashleigh too took a last drag and crushed hers out in the same ashtray.
"Fine, Mom.  I won't."  But she had no intention of complying.  As soon as
her mom left she'd return to smoking and masturbating.  She was thankful her
mom never seemed to notice her wet panties.  "We can talk more tonight.  But
I intend to hold you to the promise you made when we were talking with Taylor
about this," she warned, smoke still escaping from her smiling lips.  "I
intend to make you be a good sport about me becoming a smoker!"

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