Coming Out, Part 3

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read farther.  Copyright
1999 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,
directly or indirectly, by the person reproducing it.

COMING OUT

3.   Dominoes Falling.

   Brenda returned home at midnight.  The lights were out.  The bedroom doors
were closed.  She smiled as she hung her coat in the closet.  It had been a
wonderful evening.

   She and Ryan visited a coffee shop that permitted smoking.  Ryan was
ecstatic when she produced the stolen cigarettes.  He'd obviously smoked
before, and he immediately lit up.  As expected, he extolled the virtues of
tobacco and insisted Brenda try a cigarette, too.  She did.  It wasn't bad.
In fact, she had to admit smoking was highly enjoyable.  Over the evening,
Ryan smoked five cigarettes.  She herself had three.  In smoking her third
cigarette, Ryan taught her how to inhale.  After the initial shock, she loved
it.  Feeling that warm tingling sensation in her chest was neat.  It was also
fun to see smoke escape from her lips when she exhaled.  Amazingly, her
mother was right all along.  Smoking was cool.

   Plans began formulating in Brenda's mind.  She definitely wanted to smoke
again.  That was certain.  Her reaction surprised her, especially given her
prior antipathy to smoking.  But now she liked it.  She wasn't sure she
wanted to become a real smoker like her mom.  But she'd like to smoke again
with Ryan.  She might even want to smoke by herself sometimes.  That thought
seemed strangely appealing.

   Securing an adequate supply was another matter.  Ryan was too scared to
buy them himself, and too chicken to ask friends to help.  Brenda knew the
burden was hers.  Stealing cigarettes from her mother would be distasteful,
but not hard.  But she realized there was another way, an easier way, to
assure a supply of cigarettes for her and Ryan.  However, it required a talk
with her twin sister in the morning.  And that, she would do.

Brenda crawled into bed with a big smile.  She rarely rebelled against her
parents.  Unlike Belinda, Brenda was a good girl.  But rebelling against her
dad in this way was exhilarating.  From personal experience, she finally
understood her mom's strange allegiance to smoking.  She sighed.  God, what
would Belinda think, especially when she made her unusual request?

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

   Saturday morning, Belinda came home at ten.  Cassandra dropped her off.
She'd had a great time.  She definitely liked being a lesbian, especially
with Cassandra, who was older and, therefore, more experienced.  Cassandra's
mother stayed out late.  They had the run of the house.  They watched TV,
made love and cuddled.  Most amazingly, they both smoked.  At Cassandra's
insistence, she'd tried it.  She was surprised Cassandra smoked openly.
Apparently her mother never said anything, as if ignoring the issue made it
disappear.  Cassandra's mother smoked, too, so the presence of more smoke was
no problem.  Belinda didn't know if she knew about her daughter's sexual
preference.  Belinda guessed she did.  But she ignored the issue, preferring
not to ask questions.  That was fine with the pretty black girl.

   Cassandra begged Belinda to smoke, so she did.  At first, it made her eyes
water and burned her mouth.  It tasted bitter.  But Cassandra made it
worthwhile to persevere.  She rewarded Belinda for each cigarette smoked with
additional love-making.  By the end of the night, Belinda was actually
enjoying smoking, particularly the ubiquitous, opaque cigarette smoke
drifting in the air between them.  It gave the entire evening a mystical,
romantic quality.

   Belinda didn't count, but figured she'd smoked six or seven cigarettes.
Cassandra had lots more, maybe fifteen.  She made Belinda smoke all night
long.  Belinda wanted to please her lover.  In the end, it pleased her, too.
Her throat grew scratchy as the evening went on, but her virgin lungs slowly
learned to treasure the continual bathing with cigarette smoke.  From the
start, Cassandra insisted Belinda inhale the smoke.  The more Belinda did,
the more she liked it.  She was now glad her black lover initiated her into
this experience.  She actually liked smoking.

   At Cassandra's request, Belinda had one last cigarette with her before
breakfast.  When she first awoke, she felt like shit.  She guessed it was
from smoking too much the night before.  But amazingly, the morning cigarette
with Cassandra made the discomfort disappear.  This caused Belinda consider
the possibility that she might actually want to become a smoker herself.

   The main thing that made her persevere was Cassandra's insistence that she
smoke.  But she also enjoyed seeing her black lover indulge herself with the
habit.  She liked watching Cassandra, because she obviously so enjoyed
smoking.  The vision of the pretty, little black girl smoking was so sensual.
Virtual rapture appeared on her gorgeous face each time she took a drag on a
cigarette.  Belinda loved seeing a long, white cigarette protruding from
Cassandra's tight, cherry lips as she sucked hard, highlighted against her
lovely brown skin and sparkling eyes.  As creamy white smoke slowly began
pouring from Cassandra's diminutive mouth, the view was breathtaking.  It
made Belinda much more interested in smoking herself.

   When Belinda got home, her mother was in the kitchen.  A lit cigarette
smoldered in the nearby ashtray.  Belinda found the smell positively
exhilarating.

   "Hi, Mom," she said happily.  She gave her mother a hug, unconcerned about
the smoke on her own body.  Her mother's cigarette emitted more than enough
smoke to mask the scent.

   "Hi, Belinda," Bethany replied.  "How was your overnight?"

   "Great," Belinda sighed.  "We had a great time."

   "Do anything interesting?"

   "Not really," she lied.  She watched her mother pick up her cigarette and
take a long, prolonged drag.  Surprisingly, Belinda found herself momentarily
jealous.  It looked good.

   "Well, you didn't miss much here," Bethany smiled, interrupting in
mid-sentence to exhale a thin stream of smoke skyward.  "Other than Barbi and
me watching TV."

   Brenda appeared in the doorway, having just gotten up.  Her half-open
eyes, rumpled nightgown, and disheveled hair evidenced her recent awakening.

   "Hey, Abercrombie," Belinda kidded.  "How was your evening with good old
Ryan?"

   "Fine," Brenda yawned absent-mindedly.  She too noticed her mom's
cigarette in the ashtray.  The aroma was as delicious to her as to her twin
sister.  She stared at the cigarette.

   "I'm sorry, Brenda.  Is my cigarette bothering you?"

   "Oh, no, Mom," Brenda smiled happily.  "I'm still half asleep.  That's
all."

   The twins ate breakfast together, Brenda for the first time and Belinda
for the second.  They talked about nothing, until Brenda asked Belinda to
come upstairs.

   "You two have to exchange some notes about the boy situation?" Their
mother was smoking her second consecutive cigarette.  The smell drove both
twins crazy.

   "Yeah, Mom," Brenda smiled, giving a knowing glance to her lesbian sister.
"We need to talk about boys.  We're going upstairs.  We'll be back."

   Inside their room, Brenda closed the door while Belinda threw her
overnight bag on her bed.  She stared at her sister.  "You said we need to
talk.  What's up?"

   Brenda hesitated.  This was easier to plan than execute.  But she went on.
"Something happened last night," she began.  "Ryan and I need your help.  And
Cassandra's, if she's willing."

   "What is it?"  Belinda was now curious.  Her twin rarely requested
assistance.

   "This may not seem in line with my 'good girl' image," Brenda smiled.
"Ryan likes to smoke.  I told him 'bout Mom, and he asked if I'd steal him
some of her cigarettes.  He's afraid to try buying 'em.  You know, it's
because he's so young looking."

   Belinda nodded.  Ryan was cute, but he'd never pass for eighteen.

   "I lifted a pack of Mom's cigarettes.  Ryan and I smoked them last night,"
she blurted out.

   "You?  Smoking?  C'mon, Brenda.  I can't imagine you ever smoking a
cigarette!"

   "I know," she blushed.  "But I did.  I'd never tried it before.  But God,
it was fun.  I felt like a rebel smoking with Ryan.  Dad would've peed his
pants," she giggled.

   "So why do you need my help, or Cassandra's?"

   "Because he'd ? I mean, we'd ? like to keep smoking.  Not all the time,"
she added apologetically.  "But maybe occasionally.  But shit, I can't keep
stealing cigarettes from Mom.  She'll notice."

   "And you figure that because Cassandra's eighteen, she can buy you
cigarettes?"

   "Exactly," Brenda smiled.  "What do you think?"

   Belinda said nothing.  She grabbed her overnight bag, opened the zipper,
reached in, and withdrew an unopened pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  A look
of disbelief crossed Brenda's face.

   Belinda smiled.  "Let me get this straight," she said.  "You want
Cassandra to buy you some of these?"

   "Oh, my God," Brenda gasped.  "What are you doing with those?  I thought
you said you'd never smoked.  That's what you told Mom the other night."

   "And the other night, it was true.  But last night Cassandra taught me to
smoke."  She giggled uncontrollably.  "Oh, God.  This is too funny!  We both
learned to smoke last night.  What a hoot!"

   Brenda looked shocked.  "Why did you decide to try it, Belinda?"

   Belinda sighed.  It was a sigh of relief.  "I did it because Cassandra
smokes.  You knew that, didn't you?"  Brenda nodded.  "Cassandra's girlfriend
before me used to smoke with her all the time.  She asked if I'd smoke with
her, too.  I told her I'd never smoked, but I said sure, I'd do it.  I mean,
why not?  If it makes Cassandra happy, it makes me happy."

   "Did you like it?"

   Belinda nodded.  "Why the hell do you think I brought home a pack of
Cassandra's cigarettes?  Yeah, I really liked it.  I smoked half a dozen
cigarettes last night.  The more I smoked, the more I liked it.  Cassandra
gave me these to practice.  Now that I tried it, I understood why Mom's so
committed to it.  It's really cool."

   "I know," Brenda bubbled.  "I feel the same way.  I didn't want to.  But
Ryan insisted.  After I did, I decided I want to smoke, too.  At least
occasionally."  She giggled.  "And maybe a little more than occasionally."

   Belinda assumed a conspiratorial tone.  "With Mom smoking, we can probably
smoke without getting caught.  I'm not sure how she'd feel if she knew, but
Dad would go ballistic."

   "You're right," Brenda agreed.  "I'm not afraid of Mom.  But Dad's another
story."  She smiled.  "So, do you think Cassandra will buy cigarettes for
Ryan and me?  I'll give you the money for 'em."

   "Sure," Belinda confirmed.  "No problem.  What brand do you want?"

   Brenda frowned.  "I don't know," she admitted.  "We smoked Mom's last
night.  I liked them okay.  But maybe something else would be better.  What
do you think?"

   "Do you want to try one of these?"  Belinda held up the pack of Marlboro
Lights 100's.

   "Now?  Here?"

   "Why not?"  A smug grin encircled Belinda's face.  "Here's the deal.  Our
bedroom has its own bathroom.  No one goes in there but us.  We'll just close
the bathroom door, run the ceiling fan, open the window, and smoke." She
squinted at her twin.  "You're not chicken, are you?"

   "I guess not," Brenda hesitated.  Then she smiled.  "Actually, it'd be
fun.  You and I never do stuff together.  I'm sorry we've grown apart the
last couple years.  But we can be co-conspirators in this adventure.  It'd be
cool.  Like the old days, when we got in trouble together."

   "But this time, we won't get in trouble," Belinda predicted fearlessly.
"This time, no one finds out."  She retrieved a disposable lighter from her
bag.  "Cassandra gave me this, too."  She got the pack of cigarettes and
lighter, and marched into the bathroom.  "Are you coming?"

   Brenda smiled.  She followed her sister into the bathroom and carefully
locked the door.

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

   In the next week, Bethany's smoking stabilized at about a pack and a half
a day.  She smoked more than she first expected, especially at night, because
Bruce was rarely home.  He spent his free time at the office working on his
teen smoking legislation.  He slept in the guest room after their fight.  He
refused to back down.  And she had no intention of quitting.  She was
thoroughly enjoying being able to smoke openly for the first time in fifteen
years.

   Barbi's smoking stayed a secret.  True to her word, at first she smoked
only in her bathroom.  But that changed the first time Barbi missed her bus
after school.  Bethany had to pick her up and, driving home, she
automatically lit up.  She always smoked in the car these days.  For Barbi,
the aromatic fragrance of her mom's cigarette was too delicious.  She begged
Bethany for a puff.  Initially, Bethany refused.  But Barbi insisted.
Finally, she gave in and let her have one drag.  Believing it'd be her only
chance 'til bedtime, she performed a monstrous double-pump and sucked the
smoke deep into her lungs.  Seeing this, Bethany sighed.  She let Barbi
finish the cigarette.  Barbi was delighted.  She cracked her window, as she'd
seen Bethany do many times, and happily smoked the rest of the way home.

   This began a new tradition.  Bethany picked Barbi up every day after
school.  During the thirty minute drive, Barbi smoked her own cigarette.
There was ample time to have one.  In fact, there was too much time.  After
the first time, she begged for a second one.  Bethany knew better, but
couldn't bring herself to say no.  She saw how much Barbi enjoyed it.  In the
car and elsewhere, she began letting her daughter smoke more and more.

   When they were younger, each night Bethany kissed the girls goodnight
after they were in bed.  Belinda and Brenda outgrew this routine.  Barbi
never did.  Each evening Bethany ascended the stairs to her room and briefly
chatted with her before giving Barbi a goodnight kiss.  Bethany decided to
spice up the tradition.  She lit a cigarette and, upon reaching Barbi's room,
facetiously "apologized" for bringing it.  Barbi understood.  She was allowed
several drags before the goodnight kiss.  The ritual now included Bethany
kissing Barbi and Barbi "kissing" the cigarette.  This surreptitious little
exchange was an added treat for the emerging smoker.

   The truth was, Bethany loved smoking with Barbi.  She liked having someone
to smoke with.  It also gave her perverse pleasure to see Barbi's
relentlessly growing dedication to the nasty habit, one which Bethany herself
shamelessly loved.  She found herself manufacturing situations in which she
and Barbi could smoke.  Riding home from school was but one example.  During
high school and college, Bethany invariably smoked with friends.  Now she
relished smoking with Barbi.  In truth, she encouraged her to smoke.  In so
doing, she knew she'd guarantee that her daughter's smoking would evolve into
a life-long habit.  Bethany didn't care.  She encouraged it anyway.  By the
end of the first week, Barbi lit up each time her sisters left the house.
Her consumption hit half a pack a day.  Bethany knew this was only the
beginning.  Barbi would be a pack a day smoker in no time.  Barbi may not
have realized it, but Bethany did.  The signs were unmistakable.

   Bethany knew something else.  The more she let Barbi smoke, it became more
likely someone would find out.  But that didn't deter Bethany either.  In
fact, she secretly hoped they'd discover her beautiful, thirteen year old was
a smoker.  No one defended Bethany as a teenage smoker.  But, by God, she was
bound and determined to defend Barbi.

   Meanwhile, the twins were building regular smoking habits, too.  Cassandra
was happy to buy them cigarettes.  Sharing their first one was only the
beginning.  It was easy.  No one smelled the smoke in their bathroom.  No one
noticed they spent increasingly more time together.  No one cared Ryan and
Brenda now socialized with Belinda and Cassandra.  No one knew that by the
end of their first week the twins had grown into experienced smokers.

   They originally planned to smoke only occasionally.  But the pleasures
they experienced quickly overcame their initial foolish intentions.  With
access to unlimited Marlboro Lights 100's, without knowing it they imitated
their little sister.  They sneaked cigarettes in their bathroom before
breakfast, and smoked again at night after lights out.  Unlike Barbi, Belinda
and Brenda took cigarettes to school.  Belinda's friends were the alternative
crowd.  They weren't scandalized by her smoking.  Brenda's situation was
different.  Her sports-oriented, khaki-wearing friends weren't
smoker-friendly.  Brenda soon joined Belinda and Cassandra for lunch option.
Over the fifty minute lunch break, the girls smoked four or five cigarettes.
Ryan couldn't smoke in his car, but Cassandra could.  She drove the twins
home after school, providing another opportunity for smoking.  After the
first week, each twin was doing half a pack a day.

   Bethany was oblivious.  Her own cigarettes were omnipresent, spreading the
all-pervasive, pungent aroma of stale smoke throughout the house.  It clung
to everyone's hair and clothes.  No one noticed that Barbi and the twins were
developing into real smokers.

   Then the inevitable happened.  On Friday night, a week after Bethany came
out, the toilet in the twins' bathroom broke.  They discovered it during
their late night smoke break.  It wouldn't flush.  They decided not to tell
their parents 'til after the weekend, to let the lingering smell dissipate.
They ran the ceiling fan and opened the window.  But a smoky residue remained
apparent to a discerning nose.  While waiting for the distinctive smell to
vanish, they realized they'd have to stop smoking and use Barbi's bathroom to
relieve themselves.

   When Brenda woke Saturday morning, she had to pee.  She started
downstairs, but heard her father milling around.  Dressed in a sheer
nightgown, modesty prevented her from using the downstairs commode.  Her
mother's bedroom door was shut, as was Barbi's.  She figured both were still
asleep.  But she had to go.  She quietly crept toward Barbi's room.

   As silently as possible, Brenda opened her little sister's bedroom door.
She made nary a sound.  The overhead light was off, and the curtains were
drawn.  She tiptoed through the chamber.  The bathroom door was closed.
Without checking Barbi's bed, she turned the knob and pushed open the
bathroom door.  The sight took her breath away.

   Her little sister stood poised in front of the mirror.  The vanity light
was off, but sunlight danced in the window.  Barbi wore a skimpy nightgown.
The air was cloudy, thick with smoke.  In her hand, Barbi had a freshly lit
cigarette beside her cherubic face!

   "My God," Brenda gasped.  She saw Newport 100's and a lighter on the
counter.  Beside them was an ashtray with two crushed butts.  "What are you
doing?" she asked rhetorically.

   Barbi froze.  She just stared, saying nothing.  After a moment, smoke
involuntarily began dribbling from her mouth.  "Hi, Brenda," she said meekly,
as more smoke leaked out.

   "What the hell are you doing?" she repeated.  "Barbi, you're smoking!"

   "Uh, yeah," Barbi replied submissively.  "I sure am."

   The sweet smoky fragrance of Barbi's cigarette brought Brenda to her
senses.  Suddenly she needed to smoke.  She gave her little sister a wicked
smile.  Data started processing inside Brenda's pretty little head.  Yes!
The fact that little Barbi smoked would prove useful.

   "Hey, Barbi, can I have a drag?" she asked with a sly smile.

   Now it was Barbi's turn to be confused.  Without thinking, she trimmed her
cigarette in the ashtray before answering.  "But Brenda, you don't smoke!"

   "Like hell I don't," the older sister whispered curtly.  She stretched out
her hand.  "There are lots of things you don't know about me.  Let me have
that," she commanded.

   Still bewildered, Barbi dutifully complied.  She handed over the
cigarette.  Brenda smiled and raised it to her lips.  She took a long,
thoughtful hit.  "Mm," she murmured as she dragged.  She inhaled a mouthful
of creamy mentholated smoke deep inside her waiting lungs.  "Oh, yeah," she
sighed.  "This tastes so fuckin' good!"

   Brenda turned her head and released a long, thin stream of smoke directly
into the sunbeams shining in the window.  "Oh God, that really hits the
spot," she muttered approvingly.  She handed the cigarette back to her
sister.

   Barbi stared.  Lowering the lid on the toilet, Brenda sat down.  "It looks
like we have some things to talk about, don't we, little sister?  Tell me.
How long have you been smoking?"

   "About six months," she stuttered.  "What about you, Brenda?  When did you
start?"

   Brenda smiled, luxuriating in the thick smoke that pervaded the air in the
bathroom.  "I started smoking a week ago," she replied.  "I decided to try it
after Mom gave her confession.  And I love it.  Don't you?"

   Barbi said nothing.  She just stood there holding her cigarette.  She
hadn't had a puff since being discovered.  "Go ahead, take a drag," Brenda
said pleasantly.  "I don't mind.  I'll watch."

   Barbi nodded and obediently put the cigarette in her mouth.  She pulled
long and hard.  As she did, the cigarette's cherry end crackled.  Then she
sucked the smoke deep into her chest.  She arched her back as she expanded
her lungs.  Her large breasts pushed upward in response, causing her taut
nipples to protrude through her nightgown.  "I really like to smoke, too,
Brenda," she said softly.  A pause followed.  Then a narrow stream of smoke
forced its way out through her pursed lips.

   "Well, we certainly agree on that," Brenda smiled.  "But don't you think
this is a little risky, Barbi?  Smoking in here like this, I mean?"

   "I didn't think so until you came in," Barbi answered candidly.  "Dad
never comes in my room, and neither do you guys.  Hey!  Why _are_ you in
here?"

   "Our toilet's busted," Brenda grumbled.  "I had to pee.  But I never
thought it'd be a chance to smoke."  She pointed at the open pack of Newport
100's.  "Can I have one of those?"

   Barbi saw her sister was serious.  "Sure," she shrugged.  She handed
Brenda the pack and watched her light up.  Brenda's first drag was long.  She
inhaled earnestly.  Removing the cigarette from her mouth, she flashed a big
smile.  "I'd forgotten how good these Newports are," she remarked, as smoke
mixed with her statement.  "Strong, but good."

   Barbi took a drag.  "I'd never guess you smoked, Brenda," she said
approvingly.  "This is cool!  Maybe we can start smoking together.  That'll
be fun.  And I know Mom'll want to, too."

   Brenda paused in the middle of an exhale.  "Do you mean Mom knows you
smoke?"

   "Oh, sure," Barbi replied confidently.  "Do you think I'd be smoking in my
bathroom like this if she didn't know?"

   Barbi told Brenda the story.  She explained how she started, and how she
and Bethany now smoked together all the time, and about even being allowed to
smoke in the car.  "I think Mom likes smoking with me," she confided.
"Sometimes I almost think she wants me to smoke.  All I know is, it's really
great.  Tell me.  Does Belinda know about you smoking?"

   Brenda nodded.  She told Barbi how Cassandra got Belinda started smoking,
and that through Cassandra the twins had access to someone who'd buy them
cigarettes.  "So, yeah, Belinda knows," she confirmed.  "In fact, Belinda
smokes more than me."

   Wheels turned inside Barbi's head.  "Wow," she muttered.  "That means now
all of us smoke, except Daddy."  She squealed with delight.  "So when he's
not home, we can all smoke in the house as much as we want.  Because none of
us will mind."

   "Do you really think Mom would let us smoke, too?" Brenda asked.

   Barbi nodded.  "Mom?  Oh yeah, I'm sure of it," she proclaimed
confidently.  "Like I said, Mom's been super-supportive letting me smoke.
She even lets me sneak a few puffs when she tucks me in at night and kisses
me goodnight?" she added with devilish delight.

   "You're not shitting me?" Brenda asked in disbelief.  She grinned.  "God,
we've gotta wake up Belinda.  She's gotta hear this."

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

   An hour later, Bethany sat at the kitchen table reading the paper,
drinking coffee and smoking.  She'd just gotten up, but she was already on
her second cigarette of the day.  Bruce no longer slept with her, so she'd
brought an ashtray into the bedroom and put it on her night stand.  Each
morning she lit a Newport and smoked in bed, getting nicotine into her system
before getting up.  Now she wore a tank top and shorts at the kitchen table.
She hadn't fixed her hair yet.  She looked a bit rumpled.

   Barbi bounded downstairs.  She wore an oversized tee shirt, slacks and a
big smile.  She held something behind her back.  "Hi, Mom," she said happily.
"Where's Dad?"

   "At the office, as usual," Bethany intoned.  "Like every Saturday." She
took a drag and stared.  Something was up with Barbi.

   "When will he be back?" Barbi asked, her hands behind her back.  "Is he
gone all day?"

   "Yeah, I suppose so," Bethany acknowledged grimly.  She pursed her lips to
release a torrent of smoke from within her still sluggish body.  She sipped
her coffee.  "Why?"

   Barbi pulled up a chair and sat down.  "'Cause, if he's gone, I'm gonna
smoke," she announced matter-of-factly.  She put her hands on the table.  She
had a lighter and a pack of Newport 100's.  She placed a cork-tipped Newport
in her child-like lips.

Bethany was horrified.  "What the hell are you doing?" she barked.  "Damn it,
Barbi!  You can't smoke out here!  Shit!  Your sisters might come down the
stairs any moment!"

   Barbi did a one-handed light up.  As she gripped the lighter, the dancing
flame touched the tip of the long cigarette wedged between her lips.  Her
cheeks caved in, and she dragged hard on the burning cigarette.  She smiled
at her mother.

   "Mom," Barbi smiled as she sucked in the smoke.  "I have a secret to tell.
Brenda and Belinda know," she proudly exclaimed.  She exhaled a plume of
smoke at her mother.

   "Oh, no," Bethany moaned.  She pulled on her cigarette, too.  "This is
terrible."

   "No, it's not, Mom," she explained.  Her tone was upbeat.  "Because they
smoke, too."

   Bethany startled.  She couldn't believe what she'd heard.  "They what?"

   "They smoke," Barbi repeated, taking another drag and exhaling this time
slowly through her nostrils.  "Just like us, Mom.  I told 'em that you let me
smoke in the house when no one's here.  Now we can all smoke, as long as
Dad's not around.  Don't you think we could?"

   Bethany was dazed.  "I'm not sure.  I don't get it," she muttered.  She
heard noise behind her.  She turned.  Brenda and Belinda stood in the
doorway.  Both were dressed, both were smiling, and both stared at their
mother.

   "Come here, girls," Bethany ordered.  The twins walked in and sat down.
She shook her head and trimmed some ashes in the ashtray.  "Would someone
mind telling me what the hell's going on?"

   "Sure, Mom," Belinda grinned.  "We'd be happy to."

   In the next few minutes, the story came out.  Brenda and Belinda
alternated explaining how they started smoking, and Brenda told how she found
Barbi smoking in her bathroom.

   Barbi finished her cigarette with a final puff.  "So, Mom, now there's no
more secrets, are there?" she asked happily.  She paused to exhale a thin
stream of smoke toward her sisters.  "Everything's in the open.  Brenda and
Belinda know I smoke.  I know they smoke.  And you know all of us smoke.
What could be better?"

   Bethany shook her head.  "So you guys think we can just all smoke
together.  Is that it?"

   Barbi nodded cheerfully.  "Sure, Mom.  Why not?  You let me smoke."

   "Yeah, but ?."  She glanced around the table.  All eyes were fixed on her,
eagerly awaiting her pronouncement.  Damn!  She was beaten, and she knew it.

   "Okay," Bethany relented.  "You win."  She shook a fresh cigarette from
her pack for herself.  "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for another
one.  Go ahead," she urged, wedging hers between her lips.  She lit up and,
as she did, she offered the twins a smile of resignation and genuine
curiosity.  "Let me see you guys do this," she said, with her own cigarette
still dangling.

   Belinda produced a pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  Belinda gave a
cigarette to Brenda, and both placed them between their lips.  Brenda
produced the lighter.  She lit her Marlboro, and then her sister's.  Barbi,
too, lit up a second Newport of her own.

   Bethany was truly astounded by the smoky sight.  She watched with
amazement.  All her daughters were smokers!  They looked damn good doing it,
too, she had to admit.

   "Mom, this is so great," Brenda exclaimed.  "When Barbi said you let her
smoke, we couldn't believe it.  But we were so excited.  We've only been
doing it a week now, but we love to smoke.  Belinda and I completely
understand everything you said last Friday when you explained why you love to
smoke.  We love it, too.  And now we can all smoke whenever we want, as long
as Dad's not here."

   :"Wait a minute," Bethany cautioned.  "I never said that.  Barbi can't
smoke as much as she wants."

   Belinda glared at her little sister.  "That's what she said."

   Bethany shook her head.  "Oh, no.  Barbi agreed to some limits.  The first
is no smoking except in the house, and only if I'm with her.  The only
exceptions are in her bathroom.  Second, she limits herself to no more than
half a pack a day."

   Barbi shook her head.  With her wrist cocked, her cigarette rested
demurely by her pretty face as she spoke.  "C'mon, Mom," she objected.
"That's not true.  You let me smoke in the car."

   "Okay," her mother agreed reluctantly.  "I do let you smoke in the car.
You're right."

   "And that half a pack a day thing isn't realistic anymore.  You haven't
mentioned it since the very start.  I thought that was ancient history."

   "What made you think that?"

   "The way you act now," Barbi smiled.  "Like you always ask me to smoke
with you.  You encourage it.  You like me to smoke with you.  I think you're
happy when I smoke more than I'm supposed to.  Like yesterday, for example.
I smoked a ton, and you knew it.  You knew perfectly well I smoked more than
half a pack.  Let's figure out how much I smoked.  To start with, I had three
cigarettes in the bathroom before breakfast."

   "Three?  I never said you could have that many before leaving for school
in the morning."

   "You never said I couldn't," Barbi countered with a coy smile.  "I need to
load up before a long, boring day at school."  She gave a pout.  "Three
cigarettes gets me ready.  What's wrong with that?"

   Bethany sighed.  "Nothing," she admitted.  She understood the feeling only
too well.

"Okay," Barbi went on confidently.  "So I had three to start the day.  Let's
keep going.  You drove me to school, and we smoked in the car.  You let me
have two more.  In fact, you encouraged me to have the second one.  You said
I'd need the extra nicotine," she reminded her mother with an evil smile.
"Didn't you?"

   "Yes, I did," Bethany admitted timidly.

"After school, you picked me up.  We each had two cigarettes driving home.
Nobody was here, so we sat at the kitchen table and I smoked three more while
I ate my snack.  You came to say goodnight, and I smoked half the cigarette
you brought in with you.  Then I had two more in my bathroom before going to
sleep."  She did the math.  "I had thirteen cigarettes.  You sure didn't
mind.  You didn't discourage it.  Did you?"

   Bethany was snared, and knew it.  It was true.  She took pleasure smoking
with Barbi.  She'd never acknowledged it, but she knew full well that Barbi
smoked over ten a day.  Some days, she realized, it was lots more.  If no one
had been home last night, she'd have suggested they smoke more.  Barbi was
right.  She liked smoking with her more than she wanted to enforce any
limitations.  The half a pack a day limit did seem like ancient history.  She
knew it.

   "Okay," she confessed.  "So there is no limit.  I admit it."

   Brenda tipped her head and lifted a cone of smoke toward the ceiling.
"Mom," she asked.  "Why do you encourage Barbi?  Are you doing it to get back
at Dad?"

   Bethany shrugged.  "That's not the main reason.  See, I started smoking
when I was your age, Brenda.  God, I loved it.  But I went through hell.
Your grandparents, God bless 'em, were so mean to me when they found out I
smoked.  I'd have given anything if your grandma would've let me smoke in
peace without hassling me all the time.  So I let Barbi smoke to compensate
for the way I was treated as a teenager.  I understand wanting to smoke, but
not being able to."  She paused for a long drag.  "I suppose I do encourage
it.  But it's because I know how great smoking really is.  God, that probably
makes me a terrible mother."

   "No, Mom," Barbi objected.  "It makes you the coolest mother ever!"

   Bethany sighed.  "Maybe.  But what kind of mother actually urges her
thirteen year old daughter to smoke too much, knowing it'll just get her
hopelessly addicted to cigarettes?  I love smoking, but it's a bad habit.
It'll probably kill me someday."  Despite this negative declaration, she
returned her Newport to her mouth and took another long, powerful hit.

   Belinda pumped her Marlboro Light 100.  "Don't feel guilty, Mom," she
retorted.  She waited and exhaled.  "Everyone knows smoking's dangerous,
including Barbi.  That's no secret.  But so what?  So are other things.  Like
skydiving.  Or riding a motorcycle with no helmet.  Even running hurts your
knees and ankles if you do it too long.  People do things they like.  You
like to smoke.  So do we.  Big fuckin' deal."

   "Belinda," Bethany began.  "Watch your ?."

   "Yeah, Mom, I know.  Watch my language!  But if I can smoke like you, why
can't I talk like you, too?"  She grinned.  "Seriously, it pisses me off when
people like Dad spend their lives telling us what pleasures are okay, and
that some are bad.  What is his problem?"

   "Nothing's more dangerous than a true believer," Bethany sighed.  "Your
dad thinks he's saving the world.  He imagines he's protecting innocent
teenagers like you from big bad tobacco companies and from pig-headed,
unrepentant smokers, like me.  He thinks he can outlaw wanting to smoke.
Unfortunately, it's bullshit."  She smirked, knowing she chastised her
daughters for such language.  "I was underage when I started," she went on.
"Most smokers are.  You guys are.  But if smoking was more illegal, would it
discourage you from trying it?  Of course not!  You tried it was 'cause
someone told you it's great.  And smoking _is_ great!  It tastes good and
makes you feel good.  When people try smoking, they usually become smokers
before long.  That's the simple truth."

   Brenda smiled and shook her head.  "Works for me!  We're on your side,
Mom.  Is there anything we can do to change Dad's mind, like talk to him?
These law changes he's considering suck!"

   "Don't waste your breath," Bethany sighed.  "True believers never listen.
He won't care that you don't want his help.  He knows better.  He'll make it
a crime to hold that cigarette or put it in your mouth.  And the legislature
will probably pass his stupid laws.  They'll make life tough for adults and
impossible for teenagers."  She glanced at her daughters, each with a
cigarette in her hand.  "You look like you enjoy it," she said to the twins.

   "We do, Mom," Belinda confirmed.  "Brenda and I want the same concession
Barbi has, to be able to smoke in the house when Dad's not here.  What do you
say?"

   Bethany hesitated.  "Okay," she relented.  She smiled.  "Hell, I admit it.
I love smoking with you guys.  If that means I'm an evil mother, who cares?
It's who I am.  I'll smoke with you, and try to help you.  But be careful
your dad doesn't suspect.  If he finds out, he'll make your life, and mine,
absolute hell!"

   Brenda shook a fresh Marlboro from her pack.  She lit it from her existing
cigarette.  "I'm having another one," she said happily.  "You, Belinda?"

   "Sure," her sister smiled.  "Mom, you are the best.  Don't worry.  We'll
be careful."

   "You'd better be," Bethany acknowledged.  "Or we'll all pay."

Previous part | Next part