Relationships of Convenience, Part 3

    This story contains adult language and themes. If such language and themes
offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by SSTORYMAN. All
rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story in any form and
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it.

    RELATIONSHIPS OF CONVENIENCE

    Part 3

    It was after eight thirty when the door opened. Brandi knew it was Aimee.
She was afraid of seeing her. How could she explain? If she told the truth,
Brandi feared Aimee would be mad about her history of clandestine smoking, as
well as the fact that she was smoking again.

    "Hey, Brandi," Aimee called as she entered. "We need to talk."

    "Yeah," Brandi replied from the kitchen. "I've got to talk with you, too."

    Brandi was reading at the kitchen table wearing nothing but her underwear.
After work she often shed her clothes when it was hot, and the apartment's air
conditioner wasn't working. Today, however, she'd done it because her clothes
smelled of smoke. So she sat in her bra and panties, her long, thin body
showing tan lines. Modesty was not one of Brandi's strengths.

    Aimee smiled. "How are you doing?" she asked nervously.

    Fine," Brandi smiled back.

    "Did you eat?" Aimee asked. "I should've made sure you ate dinner. I don't
want any more insulin reactions because you forget to eat."

    "I had leftover creamed chicken," Brandi replied. "I'm fine."

    An awkward silence followed. Brandi broke the ice.

    "I saw an old friend at the mall this evening," she said. "I ran into
Bette Sanderson."

    "Really?" Aimee answered nervously as she sat down. "I knew her sister
Paige in high school. In fact, I saw Paige tonight."

    "No kidding?" Now it was Brandi's turn to fidget. She took a deep breath.
She wanted to tell Aimee about her smoking. But she was too scared. "I told
Bette that we talked about me possibly smoking to help control my eating," she
began cautiously.

    "Yeah?" Aimee asked. "What did Bette think?"

    Brandi nervously twirled her hair between her fingers. "She thought it was
a great idea," she said. "But Bette smokes, so I guess that's not a shock."

    "It doesn't surprise me," Aimee replied with equal caution. "Paige,
smokes, too. I guess the habit runs in their family."

    "Yeah. According to Bette, lots of girls smoke to help take their minds
off food."

    "What do _you_ think?" Aimee asked. "I thought you were against the idea."

    Brandi looked at the floor. She couldn't bring herself to tell the truth.
She wanted to, but she feared Aimee's anger. Instead, she dodged the question.

    "I don't know," she blurted out. "Last night you yourself said it was a
stupid idea. I'm not sure it's stupid. But I'd like to think about it."

    Aimee nodded. She was encouraged. Brandi's reply didn't completely close
the door, though her answer was equivocal. But if she needs time to consider
the smoking idea, Aimee decided, it isn't a good time to talk about my own
experimentation. She decided not to push her.

    Meanwhile, Brandi interpreted Aimee's question as non-committal. At least
she didn't reiterate her objection that smoking is stupid, she reasoned. That
was good. But Brandi decided it wasn't time to tell Aimee about her desire to
return to smoking. So, she changed the subject. "What did you want to talk
about?" she asked politely.

    "Oh, nothing," Aimee sighed. She remembered that before dinner she'd told
Brandi she was seeing Bill tonight. "I just wanted to tell you I didn't get
together with Bill." She thought for a moment. She needed to say something
about the fact that the relationship of convenience was over. "Well, actually,
I did see him." She took a deep breath. "We broke up."

    Brandi raised her eyebrow in amazement. "You and that jerk called it off?
Wow! I'm impressed. What caused you to finally dump him?"

    Aimee shrugged. "I didn't exactly dump him. We had a fight."

    "Over what?"

    "Nothing," Aimee answered. "I was just sick of taking Bill's shit. He's
always trying to run my life. We don't have a real relationship," she
continued, getting in touch with her anger. "The asshole keeps trying to tell
me what to do. When I saw him tonight, I told him to fuck off."

    "That's strong language for you, Miss Aimee," Brandi chided. "He must have
really made you mad. What was the straw that broke the camel's back?"

    Aimee paused. This was the opportunity to talk about smoking. She could
say she'd told Bill she'd been thinking about smoking. That might sound
plausible. She'd been thinking about it and she dumped Bill because he
ridiculed her. If it sounded good, maybe it would open the door. Or, maybe not
É.

    "Nothing," Aimee finally sighed. She, too, was afraid to tell the truth.
"It was about absolutely nothing. I'm just sick of him. That's all."

    "Am I missing something?" Brandi asked. "You don't just dump a guy you've
been sleeping with for months over nothing."

    Aimee bristled. "I said it was nothing. Let's just forget it, okay?"

    Aimee couldn't bring herself to tell Brandi that she wanted to smoke. It
seemed stupid, implausible. What had she been thinking? She ended the
discussion. "I'm going upstairs," she announced. "Maybe I'll watch some TV
before I go to bed."

    "Okay," Brandi shrugged. "But I'm glad you got rid of him. I never liked
Bill."

    "I know," Aimee acknowledged. "But he's history now. You should be glad."

    Before walking upstairs, Aimee turned to look at Brandi, still sitting at
the kitchen table in her bra and panties. "I'm sorry I'm so grouchy," she
apologized. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

    "No problem," Brandi answered cheerfully. "I understand. It's an emotional
thing to break up with a guy."

    Aimee nodded and went to her room. In reality, she wasn't upset about
Bill. She was mad at herself. Why couldn't she tell Brandi the truth? She
wasn't sure why, but she desperately wanted to keep smoking after trying it.
What was wrong with that? Smoking isn't a crime. So what if Brandi isn't
interested? There's no reason she can't experiment with it on her own.

    Aimee was confused. She felt edgy. Somehow she knew what she needed was
another cigarette. That thought excited and terrified her. Smoking seemed
luxuriously decadent. She wanted one. She didn't want to wait. She opened her
purse and looked at the pack of Marlboro Lights 100's. She shook her head. No,
it was out of the question. There was no way to smoke without talking to
Brandi, and she wasn't ready for that! She didn't want Brandi preaching to
her! But she didn't know what to do.

    While Aimee pondered the situation upstairs, Brandi remained downstairs in
the kitchen with her mouth agape. She was stunned that Aimee dumped Bill. She
wasn't unhappy. It was about time; in fact, it was overdue. But something must
have happened. Aimee never reacted to Bill's meddling that way before.

    Brandi was relieved she'd dodged the smoking issue. She wasn't sure how to
deal with it. She needed time to think. She felt upset, but she knew why. She
felt a gently growing craving - one she hadn't experienced for a long time.
She wanted a cigarette. She'd had four with Bette, but they'd merely whetted
and renewed her appetite. The old cravings were returning. She wanted another
one. But how?

    While Brandi thought about this, she unexpectedly heard Aimee's voice. She
turned. Her sister was quickly descend the stairs. "I'm still upset," Aimee
explained in a hushed voice, with her purse in hand. "So I'm going for a walk.
I need to think."

    Brandi watched Aimee head to the front door. "I understand," she smiled.
"How long are you going to be gone?"

    Aimee turned around. "Why do you care?" she asked.

    "Uh, I'm thinking about going to bed," Brandi explained. "I just wondered
whether I should leave the front door unlocked. That's all."

    "I'll take my key. I'll walk to the shopping center and get a cup of
coffee." She looked at her watch. It was nine thirty. "I'll be back in an
hour."

    Brandi smiled again as Aimee walked out. "Don't worry about me," she
called. "I'll be in bed when you get back."

    Without another word, Aimee left. The front door closed. Excitement welled
up inside Brandi.. This was her chance! She ran to the window and watched. She
saw Aimee hurriedly walking down the street toward the shopping center. "Hot
damn!" she muttered.

    Quickly she headed for the stairs. Filled with anticipation and still
dressed in only her underwear, Brandi was all arms and legs, virtually
vaulting up to the second floor. When she reached her bedroom, she opened her
closet. On the back shelf where she kept her shoes, Brandi removed a newly
purchased glass ashtray. Grinning like a maniac, her next objective was to
find her purse. Bounding back downstairs, she located it on the table by the
front door. Inside the handbag was a newly opened pack of Salem Light 100's
and a lighter. She retrieved them, and kissed the pack of cigarettes. "I love
you," she giggled.

    "Now, where to go?" she wondered aloud. She couldn't smoke in the
apartment. That was certain. Even with the windows open, Aimee would smell the
lingering smoke. But whatever she did, she had to move fast, before Aimee
returned. She didn't have time to get dressed. Could she sit on the back porch
and smoke? Or should she smoke in the bathroom with the window open and the
overhead fan running? Quickly she decided. She'd turn off the outside light
and sit on the back stoop. It was warm out, and it was dark. The fence almost
completely surrounded the backyard. No one would see her smoking in her bra
and panties.

    With ashtray and cigarettes in hand, Brandi turned off the apartment's
outside light. She slowly opened the back door. It was pitch black. Only a
sliver of the moon was visible. The stars shone dimly in a cloudless sky. From
next door Brandi heard a CD player booming the sounds of a mystic Celtic tune.
"Loreena McKennitt," she nodded. "That's good smoking music! But anything
would be good smoking music right now!"

    Enveloped by darkness, Brandi carefully put a cigarette in her mouth.
Eager fingers flicked the lighter and a burst of light briefly erupted. She
touched the tip of the flame to the cigarette, and then quickly let the
lighter go out. The orange glow of the cigarette between her lips was the only
light. It burned brightly for a several seconds while she took a long drag.
Breathing deeply, she removed the cigarette from her mouth. "God, that's
good," she sighed with satisfaction, holding the smoke inside. "Very nice."
Slowly she released the smoke. It drifted lazily out of her mouth into the
night air, glittering in the moonlight as it wafted away.

    Sitting on the step, Brandi smoked in silence. The nicotine rushed into
her system and brought immediate relief. All her stress quickly evaporated
with the first few puffs. "I guess I'm a smoker again," she mused, exhaling
another cloud of smoke into the night air. "But I'm not quitting this time."
Taking consecutive drags, one after another, Brandi saturated her lungs with
mentholated smoke. It was heaven.

    Through the window she heard the telephone ring. She started inside to
answer it, and then stopped. She couldn't take her cigarette! "I'll let it
roll over to the answering machine," she decided. The caller's voice sounded
on the machine as she continued smoking.

    "Aimee, this is Bill. I'm sorry about what I said tonight. You have every
right to live your life however you want. I was wrong. I shouldn't have
lectured you. I know you're mad. But please call. I don't want to lose you
over this. Despite what I said, it's not important. I'm willing to do anything
to get you back. You may think I don't love you, but I do. Please call."

    His voice sounded like he was eating crow. Brandi smiled. She loved to see
men crawl! "God, what did they fight about?" she wondered as she continued
puffing. "It must have been a real donnybrook for Bill to come back with his
tail between his legs." She quickly finished her cigarette and crushed it in
the glass ashtray.

    Brandi looked at her luminescent watch dial. Aimee left fifteen minutes
ago. She decided she had time for one more. Even assuming that Aimee returned
in forty five minutes, there was time to smoke another cigarette, dispose of
the butts, brush her teeth, and be in bed before Aimee came home.

    She shivered. The temperature of the night air was dropping. In her state
of undress she was a bit chilly, but decided not to take time to go back
inside and put on a coat. Still dressed only in her bra and panties, she lit a
second Salem. It was just as good as the first one!

    While enjoying her second cigarette, Brandi heard a male voice in the
darkness. "Having a little smoke break?"

    She could see no one. She froze. Who was wandering around the townhouses
this late at night? "Who's there?" she asked.

   
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    Aimee walked quickly. She saw Brandi watching her from the window. "Does
she suspect?" Aimee wondered. "Maybe she smelled smoke on my clothes?" She
shivered; not from the chilly air, but from fear.

    Why in God's name did she lose her nerve? Why didn't she just tell Brandi?
Even if Brandi didn't approve, Aimee feared she'd crossed the point of no
return. She wanted to keep smoking. She couldn't keep it secret for long. But
right now, she wanted - no, she _needed_ another cigarette. She cursed as she
thought about Paige's "compliment." "Unusual body chemistry, my ass!" she
whispered. Paige intended it as reassurance, but the words quickly became a
curse. Her body chemistry had adjusted to smoking too quickly and too well. So
well, in fact, that she couldn't rest without smoking again!

    Her pack of Marlboro Lights 100's and her lighter were in her purse. One
block from the apartment, she tried in vain several times to light a
cigarette. By now she desperately wanted one. She wanted to smoke one on the
way to the shopping center. But in the wind she couldn't get the lighter to
ignite! She wasn't accomplished enough to handle the stupid thing.

    "Shit," she muttered on the street corner. "I'll have to wait until I get
to the coffee shop."

    In several minutes Aimee arrived at the same coffee shop where Bette and
Brandi met. As she approached the door she saw the fateful words on the sign -
"This is a non-smoking environment." She cursed again. "Shit," she repeated,
with more vigor this time.

    Non-smoking facilities used to seem friendly. Now she was infuriated. She
went inside and ordered coffee to go. Walking back outside, Aimee looked
around. People were sitting outdoors. Most of them were smoking. She knew why.
They couldn't smoke inside.

    By now she was desperate. She'd anticipated smoking a cigarette, but had
been frustrated by her own ineptitude with the lighter. It was still breezy.
She knew she wouldn't be able to work her lighter in the wind. She screwed up
her courage and decided to ask for a light.

    "Excuse me," Aimee said politely to a young man seated alone at a table.
She held a cigarette in her hand. "Can I get a light?"

    "Sure," he replied with a smile. Aimee set her coffee on his table and
held her cigarette. He shielded the flame with his cupped hand and offered her
the light. She accepted it gratefully.

    She took a long drag. The relief was palpable and immediate. "Thanks,"
Aimee smiled as she exhaled an initial plume of smoke. As she did, she heard a
female voice.

    "Is that Aimee Johnston?"

    Aimee lowered the cigarette to her waist, hiding it, and turned, fearful
who might have seen. But it was Paige Sanderson!

    "What the fuck are you doing here?" Paige asked with a newspaper in her
hand. She sat down beside the young man who lit Aimee's cigarette.

    "I'm out for a walk," Aimee said nervously. "But what are _you_ doing
here?"

    "Rick and I went to a movie at the cinemaplex," Paige said, nodding at the
young man. "Rick, this is my friend Aimee." She continued. "We stopped for
coffee, and I walked over to buy a newspaper. I never expected to see you
here. Are you trying to move in on my new guy?"

    Aimee breathed a sigh of relief. "No," she smiled. "I just needed a
light." She blushed. "I couldn't get my lighter to work in the wind," she
admitted.

    "Sit down," Paige offered, and Rick nodded encouragement. Aimee took a
seat at the table as Paige grabbed Rick's pack of cigarettes and lit one. She
took several quick, hard hits. Aimee guessed Paige hadn't had a cigarette
since before the movie.

    "Did you talk to your sister?" Paige asked, exhaling smoke from her
nostrils. "I see you're still smoking."

    Aimee didn't know what to say. She nervously took a long drag. The
nicotine seemed to calm her nerves. She turned her head just in time to exhale
a thick plume of smoke into the air.

    "You won't believe it, Paige, but I chickened out," Aimee admitted. "Let
me explain."

   
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    "Aren't you cold?" the voice asked.

    "Who's there?" Brandi repeated. She still held her cigarette, but with her
arms she tried to cover her chest.

    "It's just me," came the reply. "George McDermott from next door. I'm
walking my dog. But I didn't expect to see a show." He came closer, through
the partially fenced-in back yard. Now Brandi saw him. It was her neighbor.
She didn't know George too well, but she recognized him. He was tall, in his
early thirties and clean shaven. She felt embarrassed.

    "I'm sorry," she smiled weakly. "I didn't think anyone would be out here
tonight. Honest, I don't usually parade around outside in my underwear."

    "No apology necessary," George said, coming closer. He had a small terrier
on a leash. "You can wear that outfit any time, as far as I'm concerned." He
smiled. Without being asked, he sat down at the small table and chairs behind
the townhouse. "But tell me. Is there some reason you're sitting out here half
naked? Not that I'm complaining. I'm just wondering."

    Brandi's face turned bright crimson, although George couldn't tell in the
dim light. "It's because I'm smoking," she explained shyly. "My sister doesn't
know I smoke. I wanted to have a cigarette before she came home. Aimee won't
be gone long. I didn't want to take the time to put on my clothes," she
blushed.

    "In other words, you were already running around in your underwear in the
apartment. Is that your explanation?" George grinned. Brandi said nothing. "I
should spend more time peeking in your windows at night," he added. "You're
very attractive in underwear, Brandi."

    Brandi hadn't taken a puff since the discussion began. She put the
cigarette to her lips and took a drag. "Thank you," she smiled. She exhaled a
stream of smoke into the air as George watched with amusement.

    "You know, if you ever have a nicotine fit, you're welcome to come to my
place and smoke. You can come in your underwear or fully dressed. Either way,
it's okay with me."

    "Do you smoke?" Brandi asked hopefully, taking another long hit.

    "Not as seriously as you, from the look of things," he replied. "But I
often enjoy a good cigar after dinner in the evenings."

    Brandi turned up her nose. George saw the look of disdain.

    "Don't get me wrong," he reassured her. "I smoke cigarettes, too. In fact,
I enjoy them. But I don't dare buy them. If I have cigarettes in my apartment,
I smoke constantly. Once I start smoking them, I can't stop. I usually stick
with one good cigar in the evenings instead." He smiled. "But if you stop by,
Brandi, I'll make an exception and smoke cigarettes with you."

    By now Brandi had overcome feeling self-conscious about being in her
underwear. She crushed her second cigarette in the ashtray on her lap. "I've
never smoked a cigar. They smell bad to me." She exhaled the last of the smoke
from her lungs. "Do you like them?"

    George smiled. "Let me answer your question with another question. Did you
like the smell of cigarette smoke before you started smoking cigarettes?"

    Brandi frowned. "No," she admitted. "It took awhile."

    "Exactly. It's the same way with cigars. The aroma grows on you. Plus,
you're probably reacting to the smell of cheap cigars. I have some really nice
premium cigars in my humidor. You should try one sometime. You might be
surprised."

    She gave George a sly grin. "George McDermott! It sounds like you're
trying to lure me into your apartment. Are you putting the moves on me?"

    "I'm just trying to broaden your horizons," he answered innocently.
"Things are changing for the better. Despite the rhetoric of the anti-smoking
establishment, women today are smoking cigars as well as cigarettes." Brandi
was absent-mindedly playing with the pack of Salems in her hand. "Don't worry.
I'd never encourage you to give up your cigarettes," he added diplomatically.
"But you might want to supplement them with an occasional cigar."

    "That's a nice offer," Brandi replied. "But why would you never encourage
me to give up smoking cigarettes? Not that I'd want to."

    It was George's turn to blush. "Smoking cigarettes suits you, Brandi," he
smiled. "I couldn't help but watch you sitting there smoking. You look
elegant."

    "Thank you," Brandi smiled. She'd never thought of smoking as elegant. But
she wasn't about to turn down a complement from this handsome and charming
guy.

    "I'd better be getting home," George said, standing up. "Roger Wilco here
- that's my new dog's name' - is getting antsy. But it was nice talking with
you."

    "It was really nice talking with you, too, George," Brandi replied as she
watched him disappear into the darkness.

    She looked at her watch. It was only a little after ten. What the hell,
she decided. The evening was young.

    "Hey, George," Brandi called.

    "Yes?" came the reply.

    "If I get dressed, can I come over now? I don't want a cigar, but I'd love
to smoke another cigarette or two. Are you interested?"

    George and Roger Wilco reappeared. George was smiling. "Brandi, you're
welcome to come over. I'm happy to be your shelter when you want to smoke. And
I'll smoke whatever you're smoking. But you needn't get dressed, unless you
want to."

    Brandi smiled. "I'll be right over with my cigarettes," she replied. "And
with my clothes on." She opened her back door and went in.

    She moved quickly. She dumped the contents of the ashtray in a plastic
bag, sealed it, and put it in the bottom of the kitchen trash can. She
returned the ashtray to its hiding place. She put on a too-tight tee-shirt and
pair of shorts, and quickly wrote a note to Aimee. "I ran into George
McDermott from next door," the note read. "He invited me over for a drink.
Back late. Don't wait up." She frowned. The part about the drink wasn't true,
but it might be before the evening was over.

    Brandi sighed. George is about thirty. Is he too old? She shook her head.
No, I'm twenty-one years old, for God's sake. Anyway, this is only - to use
Aimee's term - a relationship of convenience. George is providing something I
need; a place to smoke. 'Til I figure out how to talk to Aimee, I'll hang out
with George. She smiled. Of course, he _did_ seem quite interested, she mused,
pausing to look at her image in the mirror.

    The girl in the mirror looking back was tall, tan, blond and good looking
- especially in that tight tee-shirt. She giggled. God, it's been awhile since
I've been with a guy I'm interested in, she reasoned. Maybe an older man like
George can provide some excitement. Especially an older man who smokes, she
added, who's comfortable with my new persona. The new persona of Brandi, the
smoker.

    She taped the note to the front door, put her cigarettes in her purse, and
walked next door. "Cigars?" she giggled. "Oh, well. I never thought I'd be
smoking cigarettes again, either."

   
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    "Aimee, you've got to face the music!" Paige preached with authority. "If
you want to smoke, then just tell her. Christ, it's your apartment."

    "But it seems unfair," Aimee protested. "Brandi has every right to object
if I change the house rules."

    "Fuck the house rules," Paige answered. She paused to light another
cigarette. She was on her third consecutive one. The ashtray on the table was
filling up quickly.

    Aimee found herself lighting up as often as Paige. It seemed natural. When
Paige smoked, she did, too.

    Rick, on the other hand, had switched to a pipe. He seemed content to
silently puff on his pipe and watch the two girls chain-smoke and debate the
matter at hand.

    "I'm serious," Paige continued. "Your original idea was to help Brandi,
but you've changed your mind. So what if she's opposed to smoking? It doesn't
mean you can't smoke."

    "I guess," Aimee said, a slight whine in her voice. She took another puff.
The more she smoked tonight, the more she was sure she didn't want to give it
up. "But if I do start smoking, it changes everything. The apartment will
smell. Our clothes will smell. Our friends will disapprove. I don't want to
create controversy."

    "You don't have a choice, Aimee," Paige answered. "Hell, my good friend
`lady nicotine' has already made the choice for you, and I can tell you love
it! The nicotine buzz you're getting is addicting you. You're already caught.
You won't easily be able to stop, because you desperately want to keep on
smoking. Welcome to the club! But when you smoke, Aimee, controversy is part
of the deal. I should've warned you. People hate smokers. Your sister may hate
your smoking. But what are you going to do? Are you willing to quit?"

    "I don't know," Aimee continued whining. "I don't want to quit. I like
smoking."

    "Of course, damn it" Paige nodded. "Nobody ever _wants_ to quit. Tell your
sister to live with it. Shit, your original idea might still work. Brandi
still might decide to try it." She grinned. "But you'll never know until you
tell her."

    Aimee took another drag. Her cheeks hollowed as she drew the smoke into
her mouth and then deeply inhaled it into her lungs. Paige was right. She
wasn't ready to quit. In fact, she didn't want to even think about it.

    "I'll tell her," Aimee resolved, pondering the situation while she
exhaled. "But the time must be right. Until then, I'll just have to sneak a
few cigarettes a day."

    "A few?" Paige asked incredulously. "God, Aimee, pardon me for saying so,
but I don't think `a few cigarettes a day' will do it. You already look like
someone with the hook in pretty damn deep. But whatever you say. It's your
life."

    Aimee looked at her watch. She'd been gone almost an hour. She crushed her
cigarette in the ashtray. "I've gotta get back. Brandi's gonna be suspicious."
She stood up and turned to thank Paige and Rick for the support. But before
she could speak, Paige gave Aimee a hug.

    As they embraced, Aimee again felt a strange wetness inside. Paige's ample
breasts pressed against hers. She felt oddly excited as she buried her face in
Paige's frizzy blond hair.

    "I'm sorry I got you into this mess, kid," Paige smiled as they hugged.

    "No, you're not," Aimee grinned. "You're loving every minute of my
distress and you know it."

    "Yeah," Paige smiled. "I am enjoying it." She patted Aimee on the ass. "Be
brave, Aimee the new smoker. Your sister will come around."

    Aimee started walking. After a few yards, she heard Paige's voice. "Hey,
Aimee, it's still breezy out here. Do you want me to help you light one more
for the road?"

    Aimee sighed. It sounded good, and she just didn't have the will to
refuse. "Sure," she nodded, quickly retrieving her cigarettes from her purse.
"Why not?"

   
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    Aimee read the note. It was taped to the front door. "George McDermott?"
she asked aloud. But she was relieved. Aimee didn't wait up for her. Despite
smoking her cigarettes outside, she knew she reeked of the smell. But she
wondered what was going on between Brandi and George McDermott. They didn't
know George, except to say hello. What led Brandi to visit him? Whatever the
reason, she wasn't going to wait up to find out.

    She noticed the message waiting light blinking on the answering machine.
She pushed the button and heard Bill's plea. She smiled. "The bastard," she
muttered. "It serves him right." She looked at her watch. It was after eleven
thirty. He said he'd do anything. An evil plan began formulating in Aimee's
mind. It was a plan which might solve all her problems.

    She thought about calling Bill right away. From the tone of his voice, she
knew he wanted to fuck. Why else would he apologize? And the truth was, after
smoking with Paige again, she felt extremely turned on. The wetness in her
pussy hadn't subsided during the short walk home. If anything, it had
increased. For some reason, smoking seemed to make her hot. She wanted to
fuck.

    But she decided not to call. Let him squirm, she concluded. Nevertheless,
a growing sexual desire was there, waiting to be satisfied. Her right hand
absent-mindedly found its way to her crotch. She began rubbing herself through
her pants. "Oh, yeah," she moaned. "One way or the other, I'm getting off
tonight."

    Slowly Aimee ascended the stairs. She knew her arousal was connected to
smoking. Perhaps because smoking seemed naughty and illicit, or maybe because
of nicotine's pharmacological buzz, thinking about it made her want to touch
herself.

    She retreated to her room and closed the door. Smoking with so many people
tonight was exhilarating. In particular, she thought about Paige. Her frizzy
blond hair always smelled of smoke. It smelled so good, she sighed. It was a
musty smell, but one she'd quickly grown to love. She thought about Katarina.
Katarina smoked, too. She was vivacious and alive, and she loved to smoke.
Finally, she thought about Rick. He was tall and good looking. He smoked like
a man who enjoyed it. Aimee sighed. Smoking was wonderful. "And all three of
them treated me like a smoker," she said to herself. "Like a real smoker."
That pleased her immensely. She sat down on her bed and removed her pants. She
stuck her hand inside her panties, where it quickly found her clit, wet and
ready for pleasure.

    She played with herself. As she did, she remembered the warm, wet feeling
in her pussy both times Paige hugged her. She remembered her surprise, and her
joy, feeling Paige's hands on her ass, pulling their bodies together, so close
that their tits and crotches touched. She loved the wonderful smell of smoke
in Paige's hair and on her clothes. She remembered Paige's lips on her cheek,
and her sweet words of encouragement. "You're a beautiful smoker," Paige had
told her.

    Next her thoughts turned to Katarina. God, what a beautiful smoker, Aimee
mused. She's so dark and pretty, so fiery, so É alive! She remembered how
Katarina exhaled forcefully. She tried to imagine how it would feel for
Katarina to hold her the way Paige did, feeling Katarina's breasts, smelling
the smoke in her long, black hair.

    Finally, she thought about Bill. God, she'd love to see him try smoking.
She wanted him to try it for her. She imagined Bill lighting a cigarette in
front of her, reluctantly confessing to her that he found smoking pleasurable,
that he wanted to smoke with her. She sighed. For all his faults, Bill knew
how to use his cock. She wanted that cock, though she couldn't have it
tonight. She rubbed harder. This substitute would have to do.

    Aimee shivered with anticipation. She knew what was coming. She
interrupted her pleasure and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, playfully squeezing
her nipples for several moments. They stood at attention, and they were so
hard! Then she moved her right hand back into her panties. She found her
favorite spot and began pleasuring herself in earnest. As she did, she thought
about smoking again. Cigarettes are so nice, she thought, as her fingers
worked their sweet target. Oh, Katarina, she sighed, fondling her breasts with
her left hand. She moaned. Katarina and Paige are both beautiful when they
smoke, she sighed. Two beautiful girls who smoke with style. She rubbed
harder. Oh, God, she moaned. I want Bill to smoke, too, she sighed. Harder
still. Yeah, she gasped. She imagined that Paige and Katarina were with her,
sitting on the bed, smoking with her. She imagined Bill asking for a
cigarette, too. Then she came, repeatedly and hard.

    When she was finished, Aimee was puzzled. She felt strangely satisfied.
Something changed tonight when she smoked. She wasn't sure exactly what it
meant. All she knew was she wanted to keep smoking.

   
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