Coming Out, Part 4

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

4.   A Gathering Storm.

   Bruce Bennett sat behind his office desk.  It was four on Saturday
afternoon.  He felt tired.  He'd been working long hours.  His law practice
was demanding, and the teenage tobacco task force required a lot of
attention, too.

   The task force was a great opportunity.  The last two weeks he'd spent
every evening and weekend developing legislative proposals and reviewing
comparative laws in other states.  He was exhausted.  Things weren't good at
home.  He'd had it with Bethany's stupid insistence on being a smoker.  Damn
her!  She agreed to quit years ago.  Now she'd reneged.  He hated people who
didn't keep their agreements.  It put him in a potentially tough spot with
the task force.

   Suddenly Tom Johnson, one of Bruce's colleagues, appeared in his doorway.
"Do you have a minute, Bruce?"

   He smiled.  It was Saturday afternoon.  Of course he had time.  "Sure.
What's up?"

   Tom closed the door.  That was ominous.  The office was deserted.  What
could possibly require that level of confidentiality?

"I have information.  I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.  But you should
know."

   Bruce paid closer attention as Tom sat down.  "Yes?" he asked.

   "It's about your twins," Tom began.  "My son's a sophomore, like Brenda
and Belinda.  I know you're working on the governor's task force on teen
smoking.  I figured you should know what my son told me."

Bruce had a grim foreboding about what he was to hear.  "What is that?"

   "Rick says your daughters smoke over lunch hour at school.  He saw Brenda
and Belinda at a restaurant, in the smoking section with other kids, smoking
over lunch."

   "You're sure?"  Bruce was flabbergasted - and irritated.

   "He's sure.  He's saw them several days in a row.  He didn't say anything
to me at first.  He thought it was a fluke.  But last night he told me.  Your
twins smoke every day at lunch."

   Bruce frowned.  "Brenda and Belinda, together?  Are you sure?  They never
do things together.  They don't get along, you know."

   "I dunno 'bout that.  But my son says both your daughters smoke."

   "Does he know how long this has been going on?"

   "For at least a week," Tom replied.  "He said he never saw them smoke
before that.  Maybe it's a recent development."

   Bruce said nothing for several moments.  "Thanks for telling me," he
finally acknowledged.  "You're right about one thing.  If it's true, it puts
me in a tough spot.  I can't prepare legislation to combat teen smoking if my
own teenage daughters brazenly smoke in public."  He stared into space.  "I
wonder if Bethany knows," he muttered.

   "I don't know, Bruce.  But at least now you can take some action."

   "I will, Tom.  Thanks again."

   Bruce meditated on this problem.  He feared this would happen.  He blamed
Bethany.  Tom's son said this had been going on for at least a week.  It was
one week since Bethany "came out."  He shook his head.  He'd have to deal
with this.

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   "Time for a family council meeting," Bruce announced after dinner.  "I'll
preside.  We've got things to discuss before anyone leaves."

   Vague protests erupted from the girls.  But it was still early.  There was
time for a short family council meeting before Cassandra and Ryan came to
pick up the twins.  As usual, Barbi was going nowhere.

"Okay, Bruce," Bethany said pleasantly, speaking for the group.  But she knew
this didn't auger well.  She made the best of it.  "Let's move into the
living room."

   "Don't bring your cigarettes, Bethany," Bruce warned.  "I don't want you
smoking in this family council meeting."

   "Okay," she responded.  "Whatever.  I can wait."

   The women gathered in the living room.  Bruce was tense, high strung.
There was no doubt it was bad news.

   "You know I chair the governor's anti-teen smoking task force," he began
solemnly.  "This is important for the administration, the state, the
Democratic party, and me personally.  My reputation with the governor and his
staff depends on how the project goes.  You know I don't approve of your
mother smoking.  It looks like I have a conflict of interest."

   "I don't know why," Bethany smiled serenely.  "I'm not a teenager."

   "You know what I mean," Bruce snapped.  "But that's not the worst.  Today
I had a discussion with Tom Johnson."  He stared at the twins.  "I hear you
two are smoking at lunch."

   Belinda and Brenda didn't move.  They stared silently.

   "I have it on good authority," Bruce went on, "that you've been smoking
every day over lunch at a local restaurant.  Last week you said you'd never
tried smoking.  You had no intention of doing it.  Now I learn you're
notoriously smoking with a crowd of teenager smokers.  Would one of you care
to explain?"

   Brenda looked at her sister.  "I'll try," she began hesitantly.  "There's
not much to say.  We both have friends who smoke.  They wanted us to try it.
So we did.  We like it.  Yes, Belinda and I smoke at school.  We won't lie to
you."

   He turned to his wife.  "Did you know about this?"

   "I just found out," Bethany confirmed.  She wished to hell she could have
a cigarette right now.  She hated this confrontation.  "I didn't know 'til
today.  The twins told me themselves."

   "And were you going to tell me?" he asked accusingly.

   "No, Dad," Belinda replied.  "Because we knew you'd just be mad.  We
didn't want to upset you."

   "I see," he said menacingly, stroking his chin.  "I don't know what
agreement you reached with them, Bethany.  I don't need to.  Because here's
the deal.  You, Belinda and Brenda, must stop smoking immediately.  This is
non-negotiable.  If you refuse, there'll be consequences."

   Bethany didn't expect this.  Eventually she knew he'd learn about the
twins smoking.  She'd worried about them smoking over lunch.  But, as usual,
she hadn't the heart to say they couldn't.  It was getting to be a real
pattern.  She never denied anyone an opportunity to smoke.

   "What will be the consequences, Bruce?" she asked pleasantly on behalf of
the girls.

   "My career's at stake," he seethed.  "I'll be the laughingstock of the
party if my wife and teenage daughters smoke.  Especially my daughters.  It's
wrong, and it's damaging me.  You must stop immediately."

   "What if we refuse?" Brenda asked.

   "I've thought about it," he said tensely.  The veins in his neck stuck
out.  "If your mother won't accede to my wishes, I'll see a divorce lawyer on
Monday.  I'll initiate divorce proceedings.  That's how strongly I feel."

   "What if Mom agrees, but we don't?" Belinda followed up.

   "You'll both be grounded, permanently.  No more choir, basketball,
boyfriends, or friends, period.  You'll have no social life, at all.  I'm
serious."

   Brenda chimed in.  "But what if Mom refuses, and we refuse, too?  Then
what?"

   Bruce didn't seem prepared for this question.  He stumbled momentarily.
"In other words, what'll I do if you two and your mother gang up on me?"

   "Yeah, that's one way to put it," Brenda smiled.  "If you divorce Mom, how
can you make her ground us?"

   "I'll get custody," he threatened.  "I'll get the best domestic lawyer in
town.  I'll make sure she can't ruin your lives by letting you smoke,
following her disgusting example."  He turned to Bethany.  "I'm sorry this
sounds harsh," he snapped.  "But it's critical.  There'll be no negotiation.
I expect you and the twins to unconditionally surrender."

   "I see," Bethany smiled.  Inside, however, she was seething.  "I've given
this a lot of thought, too.  I know how important this is to you.  Politics
is your life.  And the Democratic party wants to attack smokers.  You want me
to change, to help you reach your career goals.  I understand.  In the past I
might've been willing to agree.  But that point has passed." She shook her
head.  "Bruce, I told you last week.  I'm a smoker.  I'm not a quitter.
Unlike you, I treat our daughters like adults.  I let them make their own
decisions about things like smoking.  If you want to file for divorce, go
ahead.  Our marriage is in shitty condition anyway.  I know many women with
husbands who dumped them.  I'll get a satisfactory settlement.  The answer is
no, Bruce.  I won't quit.  If that's makes you divorce me, then just do it.
It won't break my heart."

   Bruce looked at his daughters.  "What do you girls think?"

   Barbi had been silent throughout the discussion.  She started to speak,
but Brenda stopped her.  "Let me talk, Barbi," she said.  "Belinda and I know
we can't legally buy cigarettes.  We're underage.  We know it's illegal for
friends to buy 'em for us.  You're want to pass laws to make it illegal for
teenagers to even hold cigarettes in public 'til we're eighteen.  You may not
like it, Dad.  But we like to smoke.  We don't intend to quit, either.  If
you think you can intimidate us, you're wrong.  We're sorry.  Like Mom, we
refuse.  We won't live with you, either.  Not after how you treated us
today."  She glanced at her twin sister.  "Right, Belinda?" Belinda nodded.

   "Barbi?" her father asked.

   "Sorry, Dad," she smiled.  "It's men versus women this time.  I don't want
you to leave Mom.  But you guys aren't very happy.  If you divorce her
because she smokes, you're being unreasonable.  Mom smoked before she married
you.  Now you want her to quit.  It's not fair.  That's what I think."  She
didn't mention her own personal interest in siding with the smokers.  "I'll
stay with Mom," she concluded.

   Bruce stiffened.  "Okay.  This family council meeting is over.  Hell, the
family's history!  I'll move out, tonight.  Girls, you may change your minds.
Someday you'll thank me.  Bethany, you should get a good divorce lawyer.
You'll need one, especially after I tell my lawyer you're aiding and abetting
criminal behavior on the part of the twins."

   Bethany wanted to cry.  Her hands shook.  But she didn't want to giveBruce
the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.  Instead, she marched to the
kitchen and returned with her cigarettes.  "This is now my home, Bruce, and
not yours."  She put a cigarette in her mouth.  "So I'm going to have a
smoke."  Quickly, she lit up.  "I will get a good lawyer," she threatened.
She took a long drag.  "And we'll whip your ass in court!"

   "I'm sorry it came to this," he said blandly.  "But it's my life you're
ruining.  Mine and yours, actually.  I hope you change your mind.  I'm open
to that."

   She exhaled a cloud of smoke toward his face.  "Well, I'm not," she spat.
"It'll be a cold day in hell before I run to you, Bruce Bennett."  She
watched the girls quickly disappear.  She guessed each was going to her
bathroom to smoke.  She smiled.  She understood.  Smelling the cigarette
smoke, the smoker inside each of them needed nicotine relief.

   Bethany was fuming.  So this was it!  The marriage was over.  Bruce showed
himself to be a complete ass-hole.  She'd been willing to compromise, but not
quit.  That was too much.  She smiled.  It was probably too much for her
girls, too.  She smiled and took an extended drag as she watched Bruce ascend
the stairs.  He could burn in hell, for all she cared.

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   On Monday Bruce filed a divorce petition in domestic relations court.  His
lawyer was one of the meanest in town.  Bethany sought Allyson's advice.
Whom should she hire?  Allyson suggested a small firm called Johnson & Myers.
She said they were good, and all their lawyers were smokers.  Each lawyer at
J&M had left other law firms to practice in a firm where they could smoke in
their offices.  Bethany called their senior partner, Randy Myers, who put her
in touch with Christine Brickman.

   Christine was brunette, in her mid-thirties, and quite attractive.  She
dressed stylishly and had a big, toothy smile.  She specialized in domestic
cases and was a good listener.  Bethany explained the situation.  Christine
was candid.  She said prejudice against smokers was pervasive, and often
extended into the court system.  There was no assurance Bethany would get a
fair shake.  But she promised to fight Bruce's custody claim as ferociously
as possible.

   Their initial meeting at Christine's office went well, largely because
both women could smoke.  Telling her story was stressful for Bethany.  She
chain smoked the entire time.  But Christine didn't mind.  In fact, she
smoked as much as Bethany did during their meeting.  She smoked full flavor
Benson & Hedges 100's, while Bethany smoked her Newports.  Bethany felt more
comfortable with a woman who smoked full flavor cigarettes.  To Bethany, it
proclaimed:  "Damn the consequences, I'm a smoker."  Christine was a kindred
spirit.

   Bethany explained how her daughters began smoking.  She admitted she let
them smoke freely with Bruce gone.  Christine was worried about Barbi.  Did
Bruce know she smoked?  Bethany didn't think so.  Christine said that was
good.  Barbi's age might provide more basis to question Bethany's judgment
because Barbi was not yet fourteen.  But Christine laughed.  She understood
Bethany's desire to let Barbi decide on her own whether and how much to
smoke.  Teenagers are people, too, Christine commented.  She herself started
smoking at fifteen.  She had no problem letting teenagers make that decision.
Bethany appreciated the support.  She'd lean on Christine a lot in the weeks
to come.

   Bruce's departure saddened the girls.  But they soon developed a new
household routine, one in which they all smoked more often.  This was
facilitated by Bethany's increased consumption.  After Bruce's exodus, she
increasing her consumption by fifty percent.  Before long she was over a pack
and half a day.  The girls, taking the cue, smoked more, too.  They all
talked and smoked together often.  This was new for Belinda, who never spent
time at home since entering her Goth phase.  But now her mother and sisters
were her allies.  Smoking became the bond holding them together.  In May,
Belinda and Brenda turned sixteen.  In June, Barbi turned fourteen.  All were
confirmed smokers, each smoking a pack a day, or more.

   Late one early summer afternoon, Barbi and Brenda were gone.  Bethany sat
down to talk with Belinda.  For some time she'd wanted to talk candidly alone
with her.  As usual, coffee and cigarettes provided a comfortable context for
their discussion.

   Bethany tore open a new pack of Newport 100's.  She'd already polished off
an entire pack.  She lifted a cigarette to her lips.  "Belinda, tell me about
your relationship with Cassandra," she began casually.

   "Uh, what do you want to know, Mom?"  She was caught off guard by the
direct question.  She, too, reached for a cigarette, one of her Marlboro
Light 100's.

   They lit up simultaneously.  Nervously, Belinda drew hard on her Marlboro.
The thick, creamy tobacco smoke rushing into her lungs somewhat abated the
tension she felt.

   "Remember when all of us came clean about smoking?" Bethany began.  Her
cigarette bobbed in her mouth.  "We promised no more secrets.  Remember?"

   Belinda tipped her head and exhaled a thin stream of smoke above her
mother's head.  "Sure, Mom, I remember," she smiled.  "What's your point?"

   Now it was Bethany's turn to exhale.  But hers came through her nostrils.
Twin rivers of mentholated smoke poured from her pert nose in perfect
symmetry.  "I don't think you've been up-front with me about Cassandra.  I'm
not stupid, honey.  I know what's going on between you."

   Belinda's dark, curly hair was short.  There was almost nothing to brush
away from her pretty face.  But she tried valiantly to make it look like she
was fixing her hair.  "Oh?  What do you mean, Mom?"  She quickly took another
hard hit on her cigarette.

   "You and Cassandra are sleeping together, aren't you?"  She paused.
Belinda was in the midst of an extended exhale.  Before she could speak,
Bethany went on.  "Look, I don't give a damn what kind of sex you prefer.
You seem happy with Cassandra.  And as long as you're happy, that's all I
care about."

   Belinda's face brightened.  "Really, Mom?  Oh, God, it's a relief to hear
you say that.  I thought I was about to get a lecture."

   Bethany smiled.  "Honey, if I don't lecture you about smoking too much,
and I notice recently you've been smoking over a pack a day, how on earth
could I lecture you about sex?"  She took a drag on her cigarette.  "So, tell
me.  Do you like it?"

   "Like what, Mom?"

   "You know.  Doing it with women."  She released smoke from her nostrils as
she gazed at her disbelieving daughter.

   "Mom!" Belinda exclaimed.  "I can't talk about this with you!"

   "For God's sakes, why not?" Bethany objected.  "I'm a woman, too, you
know."

   "Yeah, I know.  But I'm embarrassed."

   "Don't be, sweetie," Bethany said soothingly.  "I had a girlfriend once
myself."

   Belinda almost choked on smoke coming from her mouth.  "Oh my God!  You,
Mom?"

   "Yes, me," Bethany nodded with a smile.  "It was my last serious
relationship before I met your father.  Her name was Regina.  Regina Wilson.
We roomed together one summer in college.  Of course, Regina smoked," she
giggled.  "All my roommates did in those days."

   "Except for Dad," Belinda interrupted.

   "Yes, well, your father was another story," she frowned.  "But I'll tell
you what happened, whether you want to hear it or not."

   "No, I'm interested, Mom.  I never knew you were AC/DC," she giggled.

"I'm not sure I'd go that far," Bethany laughed.  "But Regina and I got along
great.  She was pretty, with long blond hair.  She had a great body, too,"
she added dreamily.  "We hung out all summer.  One night we were coming home
from a bar.  We'd both had too much to drink.  The weather was breezy, and
damn chilly.  Neither of us had sweaters.  I wore a sleeveless dress.  I
think Regina had on a tank top and shorts.  We were laughing as we traipsed
home, but we began to get cold.  Neither of us were steady on our feet.  So
we wrapped our arms around each other, partly for support, and partly to keep
warm.  We were sharing a cigarette.  It was the last one in my pack.  Regina
had run out of smokes earlier in the evening."

Bethany stopped with a whimsical look on her face.  She took a long drag to
finish her cigarette.  "We're hanging all over each other, smoking, laughing
and shivering," she went on, exhaling through her nostrils.  "We finally get
to our apartment, but Regina can't find her keys.  She fumbles in her purse
forever.  I push myself up against her body to keep warm.  But that's not how
Regina takes it.  She drops her purse, turns, grabs me by the ass, pulls my
body tight, and starts kissing me.  God, was I surprised!  But I was too
drunk to resist.  In a few seconds, I got excited, too.  Her fingers were
squeezing my ass, her big tits were right up against mine, and her tongue was
in my mouth.  I wanted her, but I got scared.  So I pushed her away and got
my key.  I opened the door and hurried inside.  Regina came after me, and
smiled.  She said she knew I wanted it.  She was right.  I quit fighting.  We
made out in the living room.  It was a thrill, kissing a woman.  Soon we were
in bed, pulling off our clothes and touching each other.  I'd never had my
tits rubbed like that.  It was hot!  Soon we were making love, naked.  God,
it felt so good!  That beautiful blond knew how to do it!"  She smiled at her
incredulous daughter.  "Yeah, I definitely know what it's like, Belinda," she
sighed sweetly.  "I understand."

   "Wow, Mom," Belinda grinned.  "I had no idea."

   "We were lovers that summer.  But that fall she went on an international
program.  Then I met your father.  When Regina returned to campus, I was
engaged.  And that was the end."  There was sadness in her voice.

   Belinda said nothing, but reached for a second cigarette.  She lit up and
began talking through her initial exhale.  "Women are wonderful lovers," she
sighed.  "Cassandra's amazing.  She's so pretty, with that beautiful
chocolate body and those delectable, big brown tits.  She's more experienced,
too.  She makes me feel so good, so special, when we make love.  But I was
afraid to tell you.  Not every mother would accept her daughter being a
lesbian."

   Bethany too grabbed another cigarette.  "Belinda, be whatever the hell you
want.  You want to be a smoker, and I support that.  If you want to be a
lesbian, I can understand that, too."

   "Mom, you are amazing," the youngster sighed.  "I love you."

   "I love you, too, honey," Bethany replied, releasing smoke once more
through her nostrils.  "You can tell me anything.  I'll never judge.  But in
time you might decide you want to try doing it with men, too."  She smiled
lewdly.  "There's nothing quite like having a big, fat, juicy cock pumping
away inside you.  In a different way, that's pretty great, too."

   "Mom," Belinda snorted.  "I can't believe you actually said that." She
rolled her eyes.  "But then, I can't believe you told me about your lesbian
love affair, either."

   "Trust me, Belinda.  Did I lead you astray when I said smoking was cool?
No, of course not.  So don't close yourself off sexually.  I'm telling the
truth.  There's lots to explore when it comes to sex.  Don't miss out on
anything.  Okay?"

   "Okay, Mom," her daughter answered with a laugh.  "In the meantime, I'm
glad you're cool with me and Cassandra."

   "A little sexual experimentation never hurt anyone, as long as you're
careful."  She gave a wanton smile.  "I'm sure your sister is having fun with
Ryan, too, isn't she?"

   "Yeah, I think so," Belinda answered cautiously.  "I suppose you know that
??"

   "That they're fucking?  I'd be shocked if they weren't.  Like I said,
girls today should be sexually active.  It's part of growing up.  If Brenda's
careful, it doesn't bother me."  She took another drag.  "In many ways, sex
is like smoking.  As a teenager, you've pretty much got to try it.  Most
people get hooked.  And you never get tired of either one," she sighed with a
sly smile.

   "But what about you, Mom?  Now that Dad's left you, how are you ??"

   "Don't worry about me, honey," Bethany assured her.  "I'll find someone
eventually."  She chuckled.  "Next time maybe it'll even be a woman.
Meanwhile, you know what they say.  Masturbation's a girl's best friend."

   "Mom, you never cease to amaze me!"  She shook her head.  "You're
something else!"

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School ended in June.  After-school and church activities stopped for the
summer.  Being home, the girls had more chances to smoke.  Belinda and Brenda
took summer jobs waitressing at a nearby restaurant.  They were elated to
find that almost all the other waitresses smoked.  In the break room, no one
cared they were underage.  The twins were immediately accepted as smokers.
More and more, smoking was a key component of their identities.  Among
friends at school, they were known as smokers.  Their friends at work never
knew them as anything but smokers.  Going out, they always smoked, without
thinking. On breaks at work, they smoked.  At home, they smoked even more.
Any self-consciousness they felt about being known as smokers had evaporated.
Because they were smokers.  After only a few weeks into the summer, smoking
over a pack of cigarettes a day was completely normal.  Both twins were
hardened smokers now.  It was an increasingly integral part of who they were.

   Barbi's situation was a little different.  At only fourteen, she had no
summer job.  She considered going to summer camp, 'til she realized she
couldn't smoke there.  That nixed that idea.  She finally decided to take
some morning art classes at the community center.  She enjoyed them, but she
was lonely.  As far as she knew, none of her friends either from school or
the art classes smoked.  And Barbi wanted to smoke, as much as possible.

   As a result, Barbi and Bethany spent more time together.  In the
afternoons they took outings, went to museums, saw movies and did other
things.  Barbi loved having her mother to herself.  Being together so much,
they grew closer, and since Bethany smoked constantly, so did Barbi.  She
wasn't permitted to smoke out in public, but she smoked constantly in the car
and at home.  By mid-summer, her smoking habit, like her sisters, had
developed into a fully entrenched addiction.  She was irretrievably hooked,
and she'd developed a very aggressive smoking style.  She took fifteen or
more puffs from each cigarette.  Her drags were long, lasting four or five
seconds each.  Invariably she inhaled the smoke deep inside her adolescent
lungs, and without fail she held it inside for a long while before exhaling.
Each day she smoked more than twenty Newport 100's that way.  Unlike the
twins, she smoked only full flavor cigarettes.  Bethany felt slightly guilty
about that.  She tried to convince Barbi to switch to lights.  It was no use.
She wanted to stick with her mom's brand.  Barbi's nicotine needs had grown
exponentially over time, and Bethany hadn't the heart to arrest the
inevitable progression, particularly because Barbi so enjoyed the full-flavor
Newports.  Young though she was, she was already a habitual smoker, who
eagerly awaited the day she could publicly "come out" like her mother and
sisters.

   At art class one morning, Barbi's teacher said she had a phone call.  That
was odd, she thought.  Who'd call her here?  Picking up the phone in the
office, she heard her father's voice.  He wanted to have lunch.  He wasn't
supposed to do that.  The visitation schedule pending the determination of
custody was only for one full day every other weekend.  Even that was too
hard for Barbi.  She hated spending an entire day with no smoking.  No one
told Bruce she smoked, and she wasn't about to mention it.  She said she
wasn't supposed to see him except on Saturdays, but Bruce was insistent.  He
told her to call Bethany and fib, say she was going home for lunch with a
friend from class.  He promised to pick her up, take her to lunch, and return
her home by two, with her mother none the wiser.

   Barbi thought about it.  Something was up.  She wanted to know what, so
she agreed.  She called home and said she'd been invited to lunch with
Krissy, a girl in her art class.  The white lie was plausible.

   "I guess it's okay, honey," Bethany concluded.  She paused.  "But will you
be all right?"

   "Sure, Mom," Barbi said.  "Why wouldn't I be?"

   "If you're gone 'til after two, it'll be six hours without a cigarette.
Can you handle that?"

   "No problem," Barbi answered confidently.  But privately, she gulped.  It
was only eleven in the morning, but already she felt that familiar tingling
growing in her body, conclusively telling her that she needed a cigarette,
even now.  "I'll be okay," she lied.

   "Maybe I should pick you up," Bethany suggested helpfully.  "I can drive
you to Krissy's.  Tell her mom we have to run an errand first.  That'll give
you time for a cigarette or two in the car before going to her house.  Would
you like that?"

   Oh God, yes, Barbi thought to herself.  Actually, she wanted a cigarette
right now.  But to meet her dad, she had to box her mom out of the equation.
"No.  "I feel fine.  I won't need to smoke 'til I get home.  Don't worry
about it, Mom."

   "Okay," Bethany agreed reluctantly.  "But I know how you get when you're
deprived.  If you change your mind, call me.  I can be at Krissy's house in
fifteen minutes."

   "Thanks, Mom.  I appreciate it.  I'll be really ready for a cigarette when
I get home.  But I want to do this."

   At noon, Barbi walked out the community center door.  In the parking lot
was her father's BMW.  She took a deep breath and jumped in the front seat.
He was glad to see her.

   They drove to a nearby restaurant.  Bruce was chipper.  He seemed
genuinely happy to take her to lunch.  Barbi was glad, too, though she felt
increasingly edgy about not smoking.

   The restaurant was expensive.  She felt awkwardly under-dressed.  The
patrons were business people.  Cell phones and lap top computers sat on most
tables in the restaurant.  A quiet hush of serious conversation buzzed
throughout the room.  She wondered whether her father was here to broker yet
another business deal, this one with her.

   Bruce asked for non-smoking.  That was good, since she couldn't have a
cigarette.  She knew if she smelled smoke, she'd go crazy.  Her little body
was already screaming for nicotine.  Better to be completely deprived than
mercilessly tempted.

   For awhile they chatted about nothing.  They ordered their meals.  When
the waiter brought the food, she knew it was time for her dad to make his
move.  She was right.

   "So, Barbi, how are you doing?  You seem edgy.  I shouldn't have asked you
to meet me like this.  It's against the rules.  I know that.  I'm sorry."

   "I'm fine, Dad," she smiled, cognizant that the true cause of her edginess
was otherwise.

   "I'll be blunt.  I wanted to talk to you away from everyone else.  You're
living with three smokers now.  I know it's not easy."  His tone was
irritatingly superior, almost condescending.

   "Uh, I'm okay with it," she replied in a purposely non-committal way.

   "A custody fight's going on with your mom and me.  Ordinarily a mother
should have custody, particularly of teenage girls."  He smiled.  For the
first time, he seemed human.  "God knows there are things I can't relate to
when it comes to being a teenage girl!"

   Barbi nodded.  No disagreement there.

   "But I'm here to make you a proposal."

   Again, she nodded.  It was as she suspected.  He was here to negotiate a
deal.

   "I'm sure you're tired of living with smoke.  I would be.  So, let's put
an end to the battle for custody.  I'm willing to give up on Brenda and
Belinda.  The horse is out of the barn.  Your mother's influence has taken
hold.  They both smoke all the time.  I guess they even smoke at their summer
job."

   "How do you know that, Dad?"

   Bruce smiled.  "I have sources."  Again, the same condescending tone.
"For my court case, I need information about what's going on.  I have people
watch your sisters.  No, your mother's won them over.  It won't be easy to
convince them to quit."  He smiled.  "Luckily, you never stepped over that
dangerous precipice."

   The waiter cleared their food.  There was a brief interlude while the
plates were taken.  Barbi had only picked at hers.  She wasn't hungry.  But,
damn!  What she wanted was a cigarette.  Her father would be shocked to know
what she was thinking.

   That realization convinced her.  It was time to burst his bubble, though
she had to be very careful.  She didn't want to give him more ammunition for
his custody battle.  But it was so damn stupid of him to treat her like a
total non-smoker.  Stupid, and appalling.  His assumption that she despised
smoking like he did was condescendingly smug.  It was also untrue.  More than
anything, she wished she had a cigarette right now.  She had to tell him.

   "Daddy," she started slowly.  "There's something you should know."

   Bruce looked up from his coffee.  He smiled.  "What's that, honey?"

   It amused her that he was totally oblivious.  He was lost in his own
stupid world.  He'd never put two and two together on his own.

   "You should know that ? I smoke, too, Dad.  A little, I mean."

   "What?"  The surprise on his face and the horror in his voice were both
unmistakable.

   She tried to smile.  "I started stealing Mom's cigarettes a long time ago,
and smoking them by myself.  It began about six months before she told the
rest of you she was smoking."

   Bruce was flustered.  "But, why ??  Why would you ??"

   "I was curious."  Her tone was measured, her voice calm.  She was in
complete control of herself and the conversation.  "I found Mom's cigarettes
while borrowing her underwear.  I was curious.  So I tried smoking myself.  I
liked it."  She narrowed her eyes.  "I still like it."

   "I don't believe this."  Bruce shook his head in disbelief.  "Oh, my God.
Obviously, your mother doesn't know about this.  Oh, no.  Even she'd never
let a mere thirteen year old smoke!"

   "Dad, I turned fourteen a month ago."

   "Whatever.  Fourteen.  But, my God.  You tried it?  This is a tragedy.
Honey, it's not too late.  You can still quit.  You're not hooked, not yet.
Are you?" he asked cautiously.

   "No, of course not," she said with a confident smile.  It was a lie, but
it played well.  "You're right.  I don't think Mom suspects.  Stealing her
cigarettes was never hard."  Another lie.  But there was no reason for him to
know that Bethany knew all about it.

   "But where ??  How did you ??"

   "Relax, Dad.  It's something every teenager does.  We experiment with
things we're not supposed to.  It's no big deal.  I started smoking in my
bathroom at night, sometimes in the mornings, too.  It was just a few
cigarettes at first."  She looked down.  "I smoke a little more than that
now," she admitted.  That was certainly an understatement!  But he didn't
know.

   Bruce looked dazed.  "I'm sure sneaking cigarettes in that house isn't
hard."  His disgust was evident.  "No one else would notice.  Not with them
smoking all the damn time."  A look of recognition flashed across his face as
Barbi nodded her agreement.  "Do me a favor, Barbi.  Don't tell your mother
about this."

   His brain was working.  He feared if Bethany knew, she'd let Barbi smoke,
too.  He knew it was a risk, given her lack of concern about teen smoking.
To reduce the likelihood that Bethany would permit, or even encourage, Barbi,
he wanted to convince her to keep it quiet.

   "Don't say anything to her," he repeated.  "Or your sisters.  Your mom'd
make you stop."

   Barbi smiled.  "Okay," she said smugly.  "I just thought you should know."

   "And I'm glad you told me.  But honest, honey, you need to stop.  Right
now.  People get hooked on cigarettes before they know what happened.
Smoking is the most preventable cause of premature death in this country.
It's a national health crisis.  Plus, smoking stains your teeth, fouls your
breath and stinks up your clothes.  Do you know it's also a major turn-off
for boys?  Studies prove that, you know."

   "Really?"  Barbi was playing along.  "My God, Dad, I never thought about
that."

   "Oh, yes," Bruce went on confidently.  He began to get revved up.  "I can
show you lots of statistics which prove teenage girls are much more likely to
be popular if they don't smoke.  Cool guys don't want a girl who has a
cigarette in her mouth," he said confidently.

   Barbi wanted to be honest.  Unfortunately, it was too much fun pretending
to be interested in his bullshit propaganda.  "Do you think if I smoke I'll
really be less popular with the boys at school? she asked breathlessly.

   "Absolutely," he confirmed.  "The boys you're interested in will not be
attracted by smoking.  It's not cool.  In fact, they won't even want to be
with a girl if they know she smokes."

   "Oh?" she replied innocently.  "Brenda's relationship with Ryan is just a
fluke.  Right?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Ryan didn't break up with Brenda when she started to smoke.  They've
become much more serious over the last few months.  He almost seems happy she
smokes."

   "Obviously Ryan isn't the kind of boy she'll want to wind up with in the
long run."

   "Maybe," Barbi frowned.  "Of course, he was accepted by a lot of Ivy
League colleges.  He's going to Swarthmore in Pennsylvania this fall.  He
wants to be an engineer."

   "Ryan may be the exception," Bruce admitted nervously.  "But most boys who
put up with a teenage girl smoking are bad seed.  They are bad news.  Trust
me."

   "Okay, Dad.  I'm sure you're right.  Let me think about what you said.
Hmm.  Maybe I should think about quitting smoking after all." She smiled and
batted her eyelashes.  "I don't really smoke all that much, you know."

   "I'm sure you don't, honey.  If you want to move in with me, it'll be much
easier to quit.  I can help you put some distance between you and that filthy
habit."

   "I'm not sure I'm ready for that, Daddy," she replied, seeming almost
simple-minded.  "But I'll think about it."  She looked at her watch.  "You
should get me home.  It's almost two.  Mom will be expecting me."

   In fact, the latter was true.  But that wasn't the reason for Barbi's
request.  She grew edgier by the minute.  She didn't just want a cigarette.
She needed one.  And talking about smoking made her sense the developing
desperation even more.  She had to get home!

   Still shaken by her disclosure, Bruce didn't notice his daughter's
irritability.  "Okay, pumpkin.  But try to stop, or at least cut down.
Please?  And don't tell your mother about it.  It'll only make things ugly."

   "Okay, Dad," Barbi gushed.  "I appreciate your advice.  Let's go now."

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

   Bruce dropped her off down the street, so Bethany wouldn't see his car.
Barbi walked the last half block.  By the time she passed the fourth house,
she was running.  Her body felt like a ticking time bomb.  She nervously
clenched and unclenched her hands.

   "Hi, Barbi," Bethany called cheerfully as she burst through the front door
and sprinted into the kitchen.  "How was lunch with Krissy?"

   Barbi stood by the kitchen table.  With fumbling fingers, she struggled
mightily to shake a Newport from the full pack Bethany left on the table.
Her breathing was labored.  Desperation was in her voice.  "I can't talk,"
she gasped.  "God, I really need a cigarette!  Right now!"  She dropped the
pack in frustration.  "Damn!  Fuck!"

   "Relax, honey," Bethany said extravagantly.  "Shh.  Here, let me help."
She lightly tapped the just opened pack on her wrist, causing several
cork-tipped Newports to push out.  Sliding one from the aqua-marine pack, she
handed it to Barbi.  Bethany was mildly amused by her frenzied behavior.
"Here you go, sweetie.  You look like you need this, and right now!"

   Barbi grabbed the cigarette.  "Oh, God," she moaned.  She acted like a
caged animal.  Thrusting it in her mouth, she violently clicked the lighter.
Her cheeks hollowed as soon as the dancing flame hit the tip.  She furiously
pulled as much smoke as possible into her hungry lungs.

   Bethany simultaneously lit up, too.  With amused interest she watched her
daughter.  Instinctively, Barbi did a hard double-pump, sucking a second
chest full of smoke into her lungs while emitting through her nose a deluge
of smoke from the first drag.  Removing the cigarette from her lips, she
closed her eyes.  She held the smoke inside for what seemed like an eternity.

   "Oh, God, Mom," she gasped, as bursts of smoke erupted from her adorable
little nostrils.  "I thought I'd go fuckin' crazy!"  She returned the
cigarette to her lips, hitting on it once again.  With another massive
deposit of smoke safely inside her young body, she moaned.  Smoke slowly
exited through her nostrils and mouth.  A wry smile began to form on her
pretty lips.

   Bethany completely understood what had caused her daughter's frantic,
almost furious, behavior.  Barbi was a smoker.  She was addicted.  There was
certainly no doubt.  Bethany didn't even bother to lecture her about her
language.

   "Wow," Barbi gasped.  "God, this means I'm really hooked, doesn't it?"
She was frantic, but she was smiling as she asked.  Her mother placidly
smiled back.  The repeated doses of nicotine infused into Barbi's body hit
the youngster's tightly wound nervous system and began bringing some much
needed relief.  But wisps of smoke briskly punctuated each frantic word from
her lips.  "Damn, I don't believe it.  I can't go even a few hours without a
cigarette!"

   "Hush," Bethany whispered.  She motioned with her hand, encouraging Barbi
to take another drag.  She did, and Bethany went on.  "Stop talking and keep
smoking.  I understand how you feel.  Don't worry.  Just keep smoking.  Don't
waste time talking.  You'll feel better soon."

   The distraught youngster obeyed.  Silently she returned the cigarette to
her lips for another extended drag.  She fell into a rhythm, smoking
furiously.  She'd take a hard drag, draw the smoke down into her lungs,
exhale, and repeat the cycle again every fifteen seconds or so.

   Slowly but surely, her frenetic activity subsided.  Barbi's puffs grew
more measured, and her exhales less furious.  She smiled at her mother as she
finally crushed out her cigarette.  "Whew," she groaned.  "I finally feel a
little better.  God, I'm sorry, Mom.  I felt like an absolute maniac.  I've
never experienced anything like that before!"

   Bethany nodded.  "Congratulations, young lady, because you're now a bona
fide smoker!  That's what that means."  She smiled ruefully.  "Look, Barbi,
your reaction means you're truly and hopelessly addicted to nicotine.  Those
were real cravings.  Your little body now needs periodic doses of nicotine,
and no longer takes no for an answer.  For someone who's addicted, five hours
is too long to go without.  You've been smoking a lot more since school let
out and your dad's been gone.  So from now on, you'll have to organize your
schedule more carefully, and budget enough time to smoke."  She smiled.  "Or,
you can always quit," she teased playfully.

   "I don't want to quit," Barbi strongly retorted.  The vehement reaction
made Bethany smile.  Meanwhile, Barbi reached for another cigarette.
"Honestly, I liked how that felt.  Oh, my God!  Smoking a cigarette like that
was so incredibly satisfying!  It felt great!"  She sighed and happily lit
another Newport.  "Mmm, this one's good, too," she gasped, sucking smoke into
her lungs again.  "No, I don't want to quit.  No way.  Really, I'd like to
smoke even more."

   As soon as Barbi lit up again, Bethany automatically did, too.  "I
understand that feeling," she acknowledged, pursing her lips and releasing a
torrent of smoke upwards.  "I'm simply warning you, baby.  It won't get
easier.  Perhaps you need to let Krissy in on your little secret."

   "I'd like that," Barbi confirmed.  "At least that way I could invite her
over.  I could smoke, even if she didn't want to."  She narrowed her eyes.
"But what if Krissy wanted to try it, Mom?  Could I let her smoke with me?"

   Bethany frowned.  "Oh, God.  It's better if I don't know that's
happening," she replied with a hesitant smile.  "I don't want to be accused
of encouraging someone else's daughter to smoke.  I'm already in enough
trouble for letting you three smoke all the time."

   "No one knows I smoke," Barbi corrected her.  "Well, almost nobody."

   "Oh?"  Bethany asked.  "Who does?"

   "I have a confession to make," she said impishly.  "Don't be mad.  I just
couldn't stand Daddy thinking I'm on his side."  She told about her lunch and
her partial admission to Bruce that she was smoking.  "Daddy doesn't know you
know," she said confidently.  "He thinks I just steal cigarettes from you and
the twins, and smoke 'em alone on the sly.  I hope that wasn't a mistake."

   "I hope so, too," Bethany brooded.  "Well, what's done is done.  I'm not
sure what he'll do with this information.  But I'm afraid he'll find some way
to use it against me."

   "Will the court really give him custody, Mom?"  There was trepidation in
her voice.  "We like Dad, but we want to stay with you." She grinned.  "Even
if we couldn't smoke, we'd want to live with you."

   "I know, sugar.  I don't know what'll happen with his custody request.
Only one person does.  He wears a black robe.  But he's not talking to anyone
yet.  We'll cross our fingers and hope for the best."

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

   Later that day, Bruce was back at his desk.  He had an open file before
him, but he paid it no attention.  His thoughts were elsewhere.  He gazed out
the window at the creeping dusk.

   "Knock, knock," a familiar voice called from the doorway.

   Bruce turned and smiled.  "John Allen," he cried.  He stood and extended
his right hand.  "So good to see you, Your Honor."

   "Cut the your honor bullshit," the Judge chortled, shaking hands.  "Can I
sit down?"

   "Of course," Bruce replied, motioning to an empty chair.  "What brings you
here today?"

   "Even retired partners come back to the firm once in awhile," he replied
with a smile.  "Actually, Bruce, I stopped by to see you."

   "I'm honored, Judge," he replied sincerely.

   Bruce held Judge Allen in high esteem.  He was a tall, stately gentleman.
White hair and piercing black eyes gave him a formidable presence.  Today he
wore a dark gray suit, white shirt, and paisley neck-tie.  Bruce waited for
the Judge to sit before returning to his seat.  Even without his black robes,
the Judge's regal presence made it seem inappropriate to sit until he did.

   "What can I do for you, Judge?"

   "I'm here to butt into some business that's not mine.  I'm here to give
some advice."

   "I'm always interested in your advice, Judge.  You've been my mentor,
officially and unofficially, for a long while."

   The Judge smiled.  "You may not like this piece of advice, Bruce.  I heard
about your divorce and the custody battle you've begun.  I'm so sorry.  But
tell me.  Is this really necessary?"

   Bruce frowned.  "I wish it wasn't, Judge.  But in the last few years
Bethany has become terribly bull-headed.  She insists on taking positions I
cannot accept.  We've grown apart.  She no longer accepts my commitment to
work, or to the party."

   The Judge nodded.  "Allyson told me," he smiled wisely.  "I think I know
the real issue.  You're incensed about her smoking, aren't you?" Without
waiting for Bruce's confirmation, he went on.  "Look, Bruce.  My wife smokes,
too.  But it's not a big deal.  I don't tell Allyson what to do, and she
doesn't tell me what to do either.  That's the basis of a successful
marriage.  Can't you take the same view with Bethany?  Let her do what she
wants.  After all, she's an adult."

   "That's the point," Bruce responded.  "She is an adult, and she should
realize she's humiliating me in the eyes of the party's leaders.  And she's
influencing my children.  Did you know that all three of my daughters are
smoking?  Even Barbi, who just turned fourteen."

   "Hmm.  I didn't know about Barbi," he admitted with a frown.  "I heard
about the twins.  But for God's sake, Bruce, they're teenagers.  They
experiment with such things.  I did when I was a teenager," he added with a
smile.

   "This is different, Judge.  Tobacco is addictive.  If you experiment with
smoking, you're not making a choice.  The choice has been made for you.  One
cigarette leads to another.  Before long, you can't stop.  All because of the
perniciously addictive nature of nicotine.  It's a drug.  Every day, all over
the country, thousands of teenagers like my girls get sucked into lifelong
addiction.  I won't let my wife encourage children into tobacco's destructive
web of influence."

   "That's political bullshit, Bruce, and you know it," the Judge replied.
"This country has more ex-smokers than smokers.  Millions of people quit
every year.  Hell, I used to smoke.  I bet you did, too.  People aren't
robots.  But though it's bad for them, some choose to keep smoking.  Others
quit.  Our wives simply chose to keep smoking.  You don't propose to
legislate against their right to make their own choices, do you?"

   "I support the rights of adults to make stupid decisions, but only if they
pay the associated costs.  My legislation will increase state cigarette
taxes.  If they want to smoke, make 'em pay."

   "But what you're really saying is teenagers cannot make decisions.  Is
that right?"

   Bruce bristled.  "A child of fourteen, like Barbi, isn't capable of
weighing the risks associated with smoking.  That's why the law doesn't let
kids under eighteen purchase tobacco products.  My legislation will also
increase criminal penalties associated with teenage tobacco use.  It'll
provide a further disincentive for teenagers to make the wrong choice."

   The Judge sighed.  "I can't believe you're getting a divorce and launching
a disastrous custody battle over this.  I said I came to give you advice.
Here it is.  Get off your high horse and settle with your wife.  Bethany's a
bright woman, and a good one.  Don't let your political agenda destroy your
marriage.  It's not worth it."  He lowered his voice.  "You're going to lose
your custody battle," he warned.  "And when the press finds out about your
conflict of interest in this matter, they'll have a fuckin' field day
attacking your legislation.  The governor will be pissed."

   "What do you mean?"

   "The press will find out about your vendetta against Bethany, her smoking,
and the battle over your girls' personal lives.  It's public record in the
domestic relations court.  When they do, they'll question your legislation.
It'll look like you're proposing it to help your personal agenda."

   "But that's not true," Bruce sputtered.  "I believe in the righteousness
of the cause."

   "I'm sure you do.  But it won't look that way in the papers.  If you want
to submarine your legislation, then just keep doing what you're doing.  I
guarantee, the press and the tobacco lobby will eat you alive.  They'll
suggest the proposed criminal law changes are for your own benefit.  And as a
result, the legislation will go down in flames.  Is that what you want?"

   "You're over-reacting, Judge."  Bruce was mad.  "Just because your stupid
wife still smokes, you don't need to defend smokers and lobby against my
bill.  I'm doing what's right.  I'm trying to protect my daughters against
big tobacco.  I want to raise them in my home with values I believe in.  I
want to ensure that peer pressure, advertising, and the vapid thinking being
advanced by stupid people like Bethany, don't push them into a lifelong
pattern of destructive behavior.  Anyway, the press will never make the
connection between the teen smoking bill and my custody battle.  Because
there is no connection.  The two are completely coincidental."

   "It's your funeral," the Judge sighed.  His steely eyes focused on Bruce.
His voice deepened.  "Young man, here's a warning.  Don't ever refer to my
lovely wife Allyson as stupid.  That's a sure way to make me your enemy.  You
don't need me as an enemy, Bruce.  Trust me."

   "I'm sorry, Judge," Bruce stammered.  "I didn't mean ?."

   "Yes, you did," he corrected.  "I know what you meant.  Like many in our
party, you fanatically hate smokers.  Your self-righteous streak is a mile
long.  That damnable attitude isn't worthy of the great traditions of the
Democratic Party.  I don't care for your legislative initiative.  Senator
Kennedy is an acquaintance of mine.  I've known him for years.  I've told him
the same thing.  It's time somebody spoke up and decried the fascist hate
campaign against smokers."

   "I'm sorry you feel that way, Judge.  But I'll follow my conscience." He
paused.  "Why do you say I'll lose my custody battle?  Have you heard
anything about my case?"

   "Forget it," the Judge answered ominously.  He stood up.  His standing
frame looked forbidding.  "I can find the door by myself.  Good luck to you,
Bruce.  You're going to need it."

   Before Bruce could object, the Judge left in a huff.  Bruce buried his
head in his hands.  The Judge was a formidable opponent.  He'd made and
broken the careers of countless politicians and political consultants.  Was
he merely warning, or was he threatening?  Bruce wasn't sure.  But he
couldn't change course now.  The custody battle was a long shot.  His lawyer
had said that, particularly with the age of his daughters.  Their preferences
would be given great weight by the court in assigning custody.  As for the
legislation, it had been introduced in the house of representatives last
week.  The governor's staff quickly found some eager sponsors.  So far, there
hadn't been much press coverage.  Bruce sighed.  He hoped the Judge was
wrong.  But a sense of dread crept through his body.  The Judge was an
old-time politico.  He was rarely wrong.

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