Cross Cultural Experience, Part 5

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such language
and themes offend you, please do not read further.  Copyright 2000 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.  Thanks to AZ-MAN and STOGIE-MAN for their support,
ideas and encouragement.

CROSS CULTURAL EXPERIENCE 

5.	The Re-Education of Lauren's Will.

   The last two days of the Thanksgiving weekend ended auspiciously.  Under
the Italian girl's careful tutelage, Lauren successfully completed basic
training as a new smoker.  Everyone was impressed how rapidly she developed a
distinctive smoking style, refined and uniquely her own.  Her inhales were
similar to the sophisticated technique used by her roommate.  From the start,
Lauren displayed a smoking elegance that was both enthusiastic and polished.
In no time, her desire to indulge in this newfound routine grew.  By Sunday
afternoon, her third day as a smoker, she lit up almost as often as Giorgia.
The whole time, nicotine addiction slowly but surely took hold.  But Lauren
didn't care.  In fact, she welcomed that growing sense of nicotine
dependency.  She loved to smoke, and passionately gave herself over to her
new pastime.

   Meanwhile Cindy returned to her old habit with abandon.  Her reservations
faded in the background the more she smoked.  Health concerns, once so
important, now paled in light of the intense enjoyment she got from pulling
more and more cigarette smoke deep inside those greedy, insatiable lungs.
Cindy Martin changed.  She talked and acted like a brazen, unashamed addict.
Each time she lit up, which she did more each day, her drags became more
protracted, and her inhales more robust.  Far from discouraging her
daughter's smoking progress, Cindy seemed to want to smoke with her.  She
sometimes almost seemed to be manipulating the eager youngster into smoking
more than she otherwise intended to.  Contrary to what anyone would've
predicted, Cindy's enthusiasm was a real contributing factor to Lauren's
rapid progress.

   Finally able to smoke openly, Jim changed, too.  Before he smoked only
sporadically, and only with his high school buddies.  However, now that he
could light up as much as he wanted, he entered a new reality.  Lauren's
brother was able to live like a confirmed smoker.  His folks no longer cared,
so he naturally smoked more and more often, with great fervor.

   Tom, too, was a new man.  Delighted by his wife's transformation, he made
the most of the new permissiveness, having several cigars every day.  With
encouragement from Giorgia, he occasionally inhaled the smoke.  In his or her
own way, each member of the Martin household was reveling in their deepening
dependence on the pleasures provided by nicotine.

   Giorgia was delighted.  Her plan worked better than she'd dared hope.
And most of all, she enjoyed watching Lauren.  From the start Giorgia could
see that her roommate indisputably enjoyed smoking.  It was too early for
Lauren to be addicted, but at her current rate Giorgia knew it was just a
matter of time until she was irretrievably hooked.  In point of fact, Lauren
seemed determined to increase her dependency, and did so with passionate
fanaticism.  Giorgia never saw anyone as dedicated to becoming fully
addicted, and she was thrilled.  It would allow the two girls to become the
soul-mates Lauren always wanted them to be.  Giorgia welcomed the opportunity
to finally bond with her roommate as a fellow smoker.

   Sunday afternoon the two girls left to return to campus.  Fond farewells
were said by Tom, Cindy and Jim before they headed out.  As the miles passed,
the two girls talked and smoked.  Each time Lauren lit up another cigarette,
Giorgia felt vindicated.  She'd worked and prayed for months for this result.
Now her roommate was turning into a dedicated, militant smoker, the kind
Lauren's country desperately needed more of.

   They finally arrived on campus and went to their dorm room.  Giorgia
suggested they drop in on Brigit and Libby.  "They'll be interested in your
big news," she told her.

   Minutes later Brigit opened her door to find Lauren and Giorgia standing
there.  "C'mon in," she said happily.  "Libby and I wondered when you two
would get back."

   "We just got back," Lauren smiled as they entered the freshmen's room.
The smell of ambient cigarette smoke was quite noticeable.  "How was your
vacation weekend?" she asked.

   "It was a mixed bag," Brigit said sourly.  "In some ways it was fun being
home.  But mostly it was terrible.  I was telling Libby.  I got lectured.  My
parents think I smoke too much.  A couple times we screamed about it.  'You
gotta quit,' they carped.  'Or at least cut down.'  Well, fuck `em!  I told
'em they were pissing me off.  I told 'em I won't quit or cut down.  I'm
18, and I'll smoke as much as I want."  She sighed and shook her head.  "The
whole thing just made me want to smoke more," she added with a wry smile.
"My parents are such assholes!"

   "I am sorry to hear that," Giorgia said honestly.  "How about you, Libby?"

   "My parents didn't give me shit," she grinned.  "That's because they gave
up nagging.  We had our big confrontation last summer before I left for
college.  They know I won't stop smoking.  But I had a fight with my old
boyfriend.  He sent me emails all fall.  He wanted to get back together at
Thanksgiving.  We went out Friday night.  It was a fiasco.  Same Goddamn
problem.  He doesn't smoke and won't accept the fact that I do.  He wanted to
sit in non-smoking at the restaurant.  I told him, no fuckin' way!  I smoke,
and I wasn't spending the evening without my cigarettes."  Libby shrugged.
"It wasn't pretty.  But I remembered what you said, Giorgia.  Never back
down, and never give in!  You said if we show weakness or compromise, we're
finished.  God, that's so right!  I didn't back down.  He said I'm killing
myself.  Maybe I am, I said, but if I die at least it'll be in peace without
your shitty complaining ringing in my ears."  She smiled.  "You'd have been
proud of me, Giorgia."

   "I am very proud of both of you," the pretty Italian  replied.  "We
smokers must stand firm.  If we don't, the anti-smokers will take our rights
away in the blink of an eye."  She grinned.  "Lauren has something to tell
you about our weekend at her parents' home."

   "Oh, God, yeah," Brigit replied.  "Tell us, Lauren.  How was it?"

   "It was great," she giggled with delight.  "Giorgia finished up a little
project she's been working on.  It's something you're both interested in."
She reached in her pocket and pulled out a cigarette.  The freshmen stared in
disbelief.  "She got me to smoke.  I started this weekend," she repeated, as
she perched the white cylinder between her waiting red lips.  "And I love
it."

   Without comment Lauren produced a disposable lighter and lit up, taking a
long, sumptuous drag on her cigarette.  "Smoking is cool," she added for the
benefit of her stunned audience.  "I really like it," she continued, as
bursts of smoke erupted from her smiling lips.

   "Holy shit," Brigit exclaimed, while embracing Lauren with a mammoth hug.
"I can't believe it!"  She looked at Giorgia.  "Christ, Giorgia, you did
it!  Lauren's smoking, for real!"

   Libby was equally enthusiastic.  "Oh, wow!  Our R.A. smokes now," she
laughed hysterically.  "God!  This is too cool!  Giorgia, you're a fuckin'
genius!"

   "Wait.  There's more," Giorgia smiled, reaching into her own pocket for a
cigarette.  "Much more.  But first aren't you going to join us for a
celebratory cigarette?  I was sure you'd both want to smoke with Lauren,
though it won't be the last time we smoke together.  Lauren's well on her
way to becoming a real smoker, just like the rest of us."

   "What do you mean?" Lauren interrupted.  "I consider myself a real
smoker already.  That hurts my feelings," she said, pretending to pout.

   Giorgia laughed.  "You are doing wonderfully, Lauren.  But it takes time
and practice to make the smoking habit all your own.  Brigit and Libby
understand that, don't you, girls?"

   Brigit and Libby nodded and, in the blink of an eye, got out their
cigarettes.  Brigit lit a Newport 100, and Libby a Virginia Slims Menthol
Light 100.  All four girls smoked away, while Lauren and Giorgia told the two
freshmen the rest of their story.

   "Wow, that's so cool," Brigit sighed when they'd finished.  "I wish to
God that'd happen at _my_ house.  Damn!  I'd give _anything_ if my parents
smoked.  It'd take pressure off me, for sure.  Lauren, you're so lucky!"

   "Yes, I am lucky," Lauren agreed with an audible sigh.  "I know I am.  But
it's weird, too.  Like, my mother's been an anti my whole life.  But now, she
smokes, like, all the time.  It's hard to get used to.  It's like there's
something wrong with the picture, you know what I mean?"

   "Yeah, like seeing our R. A. smoke," Libby countered with a grin.  "It is
strange, though, when someone you know who didn't smoke, starts.  I mean,
it's cool and all, but it's weird.  It's totally odd having you smoke here
with us, Lauren.  Odd, but nice, too."

   "Get used to it," Lauren cracked.  "I'll be smoking from now on.  For a
long time I wanted to learn, but I thought I couldn't.  Remember that night,
Brigit?"  The freshman nodded.  "I knew you guys liked it, and I wanted to
share that experience.  In the dining hall, you always smoked while I just
sat there.  I hated that.  But no more, because now I smoke, too." She
grinned.  "And I promise you this.  I'll be just as bad as the rest of you
when it comes to smoking too much!"

   "Glad to hear it, Lauren," Brigit smiled.  She took a drag on her full
flavored Newport 100.  "But that's a tall order, because Libby and I have
been smoking constantly since we got back this afternoon."  She made a face
and then exhaled a thin stream of smoke from her lips.

   "Don't worry," Lauren nodded.  "I'm up to the challenge.  You'll
see."

   Lauren was indeed up to it.  The news traveled quickly in the dorm,
especially on the floor where Lauren was resident advisor.  Girls stopped by
just to see if it was true.  With an ashtray on Lauren's desk and a
ubiquitous pack of cigarettes by her side, there was ample proof.  She almost
felt like a curiosity piece in a museum.  Most came out of nosiness.  A few
were jealous and admired Lauren's willingness to come out, while others
criticized and preached.  But Giorgia had trained her well.  She defended her
brand new habit without hesitation.  "I love to smoke cigarettes," she'd tell
her accusers.  "I'll keep doing it."  And she did.

   She was eager to solidify her new reputation as a smoker.  Therefore, even
if she didn't need to, each time she crossed campus she lit up, just to be
seen smoking in public.  She smoked in the dining hall after meals.  And of
course she smoked in her room.  The new Lauren Martin was emerging.  She was
a smoker now, and was determined to fill her new role without apology.

   In the first two weeks Lauren smoked half a pack a day, mostly with
Giorgia and the others on her floor.  The social aspect dominated her
decisions when to smoke.  She liked lighting up, but didn't really need to.
Yet.  It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it.  She did.  But her dependence, such
as it was, was mostly based on being around her smoking friends.

   That frustrated Lauren.  She never felt the cravings Giorgia and the
others talked about.  She wanted to feel them; she was missing something.
Not smoking for a long time was no problem for her, the way it was for her
friends.  She knew she wasn't a smoker in same way or to the same extent that
Giorgia, Brigit and Libby were.  She waited patiently, very much wanting to
feel truly, hopelessly hooked on her cigarettes like her friends.

   When classes ended in early December, students started preparing for
exams.  They spent more time studying, both in the library and in the dorms.
Noise and distraction on Lauren's floor diminished.  All the work that
didn't get done during the semester consumed the time and attention of each
and every student.  They studied more, and slept less.  Irritability in the
dorm always reached an all time high right before exams.

   Student compensated for the increased stress in their own ways.  Some ate
junk food.  Others drank.  A few did drugs.  But Giorgia had her own
approach.  She smoked.  Up to that point in the semester she'd averaged a
pack a day.  Now, however, her consumption picked up.  She sat at her desk
and chain smoked for hours at a time while she studied.  The air in her dorm
room was thick and hazy every afternoon and evening.

   Lauren didn't mind.  In the past she'd always studied for exams at the
library.  The dorm had too many distractions, and she liked uninterrupted
quiet.  But now, the library no longer seemed right.  She felt distracted
there, and it was hard to concentrate.  Her efficiency suffered, and she
didn't know why.  But Sunday afternoon before exams she caught on.  She was
at a study group with students from biology class.  Before the session she'd
skipped lunch to prepare at the library.  She went straight to her study
group, which met in an academic building.

   As the meeting dragged on, Lauren grew increasingly restless.  By
mid-afternoon she had a terrible headache.  She got irritable, and finally
ran out of patience at a stupid answer by one student.  She snapped at him
and even swore, which for her was out of character.  Normally she was
mild-mannered and easy going.  She was mad at herself for acting like an ass,
which worsened her foul mood.

   Then it hit her!  She inventoried her troubles.  She was irritable and ill
tempered.  Her head hurt and she was irrationally restless.  How could she
have missed the obvious explanation?  "I just need a cigarette," she realized
with a satisfied sigh.  "Oh my God!"

   It was a defining moment.  She'd _wanted_ to feel the same cravings that
other smokers felt, and now this was it!  So _this_ is what it feels like to
_need_ to smoke, she mused contentedly.  She'd put her finger on her problem.
She _did_ need a cigarette.  She knew it.  She hadn't had one since morning,
and it was four in the afternoon.  Realizing that, the only thing she wanted
to do at that point was smoke.  She could no longer pay attention to the
review problems being discussed.  She had to smoke, and right away, too!

   She tried to suggest the group take a break.  But no one wanted to; they
preferred to press on.  She couldn't stand it.  She needed a cigarette!  She
had to have one!  So abruptly she excused herself, packed up her books and
notes, and left through the front door.  There, in the cool December breeze,
Lauren Martin lit her first cigarette in seven hours.  The taste and
sensation were out of this world!  Ever since Thanksgiving, she'd liked
smoking.  But now something had definitely changed.  This cigarette was
different!  She sucked the smoke deep in her lungs and held it inside for
several seconds.  Oh, God!  It felt so good!  The pleasure, and the relief,
were incomparable!  She'd never felt anything like it.  Before exhaling she
took a second hit.  Smoke poured from her nostrils as she puffed again.  She
pulled the added smoke in her lungs and once more felt the extraordinarily
bliss of nicotine hitting her bloodstream.  God, she loved it!  She'd heard
it said that smoking both created a need and satisfied it.  There was no
doubt.  This was real satisfaction!  It felt so good to be smoking.  Oh God,
if it could only always be this good!

   Slowly Lauren headed for her dorm, smoking as she walked.  After four
reckless drags, her head no longer ached.  Instead, peace and relaxation
permeated her being.  She felt good.  God!  She'd finally experienced real
smoker's cravings, and satisfied them with a cigarette.  She felt insanely
happy to a smoker.  She loved the feeling of satisfying her strangely
wonderful, frantic need to smoke!  No wonder smokers couldn't stop.  If this
was addiction, and it clearly was, she embraced it.  From now on she wanted
to feel the same satisfaction each time she lit up!

   After that defining moment, Lauren changed her study routine.  She no
longer went to the library where smoking wasn't allowed.  Instead, she and
Giorgia figured out how to study together in their room.  They put a sign on
the door stating that serious studying was in progress.  There was no
talking, and no music.  Giorgia chain-smoked, and Lauren found it easy to
follow suit.  Her cigarette consumption increased dramatically.  Now she had
one burning in the ashtray almost all the time.  But her studying efficiency
improved as she smoked more.  Nicotine helped her think more clearly.  By the
time exams began, she was smoking a pack a day.  She was below Giorgia's
accelerated pace; her roommate was up to two packs!  But Lauren's growing
dependence on nicotine was complete.  She now _had_ to smoke.  Going longer
than an hour without a cigarette was no longer a viable option.  She
invariably felt the same cravings she experienced at the study group.  But
she liked the dependent feeling of desperately having to smoke, and she loved
satisfying her longing by lighting up cigarette after cigarette and smoking
each one down to the filter.  Lauren felt she'd finally arrived, and indeed,
she had.

   Giorgia noticed the significant change in her roommate's habit.  Lauren
had crossed a critical threshold.  Smoking was no longer an activity.  It was
a necessity!  Lauren seemed finally, unequivocally hooked.  She smoked with
Giorgia constantly during exam week.  By the time exams were over, it was all
over for Lauren, too.  She was a smoker through and through.  She wouldn't
be able to turn back now, even if she'd wanted to, without Herculean effort.
The best thing was, she didn't want to.  That'd been Giorgia's goal, and at
long last it'd been realized!

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

   After exams, Lauren left for Christmas break at home.  Giorgia went on a
three-week sightseeing trip with other international students.  The girls
would have preferred to spend the holiday together, but it was the Italian
girl's only opportunity to see sights in the U.S.  They were apart for three
weeks, while Giorgia visited New York, Washington D.C., and other places.
She longed to be present to nurture Lauren's growing addiction, but didn't
worry that Lauren would backslide.  Too much had transpired for that to
happen.  As it turned out, Giorgia was right.

   Three weeks at home, as a smoker living with other smokers, was a new
experience.  As she did the last few Christmas vacations and last summer,
Lauren worked as a sales clerk at a women's clothing store in a nearby
shopping mall.  Her first day back she casually asked another girl if anyone
there smoked.  Almost all the sales girls were high school or college age.
Happily, she learned most of them did.  They showed her the area by the
mall's rear loading dock where, protected from bad weather, they could hang
out together and smoke during breaks.  Lauren immediately joined them.  She
started taking all her breaks with the other smokers.  Although she'd worked
there before, she never knew how many of the girls smoked.  Taking regular
breaks with them strengthened Lauren's habit and further established her new
identity as a smoker.

   Meanwhile, her mom's smoking habit was dramatically escalating.  Her
unexpected smoking relapse over Thanksgiving was no short-term aberration.
By the time Lauren got home for the holidays, her transformation showed signs
of being complete and permanent.  Ashtrays were strategically located in
every room of the house.  An aroma of stale smoke was all over.  Each day
Cindy began smoking as soon as she got up and, as far as Lauren could see,
she never stopped till bedtime.  Cindy's drags were more prolonged, and her
inhales much deeper.  After each drag she routinely exhaled smoke, from her
lips or her nose, over four or five consecutive breaths.  Lauren remembered
her mom's prediction Thanksgiving weekend that eventually she'd return to
smoking a pack and a half a day.  Cindy was smoking at least that much by the
time Lauren came home in mid-December, and oftentimes much more.

   But Lauren had never seen her mom so happy.  She seemed unflappable, a big
change from her prior up-tight, nervous attitude.  She smiled and laughed all
the time, even when things weren't going her way.  Whatever the problem,
lighting up a cigarette resolved it for her, or at least made it bearable.
Smoking completely overhauled her personality.  She was easy-going and
pleasant to be with.  Her addiction had clearly renewed itself with a
vengeance, but if she still worried about the health consequences of her
renewed nicotine dependency, she never said so.

   Actually, Cindy mostly seemed concerned she couldn't smoke as much as she
wanted.  She was a realtor, and taking clients to see homes was
time-intensive.  She ordinarily couldn't smoke with clients, and had to keep
her car's ashtrays empty, to avoid getting complaints about the smell.  But
smoking between client appointments and other times around the office made
the situation at least manageable.  And she compensated by smoking almost
non-stop at home.

   Cindy's heavy smoking noticeably deepened the timber of her voice.  She
now _sounded_ like a smoker when she talked.  Her voice had a deep, throaty
quality.  Lauren thought it was sensual, mysterious.  She hoped eventually
her voice would change to be like her mom's.  And she suspected it would, as
long as she kept pace with her in terms of smoking.

   Lauren naturally fell into a new routine, and smoked with her mom just
like she smoked with Giorgia at school.  Both Martin women clearly loved it,
and particularly enjoyed smoking together.  When Lauren got home from work at
night, she had coffee and cigarettes with Cindy.  Lauren loved how smoking
had changed her mom for the better, and smoked with her as much as possible.
This meant Lauren smoked consistently at work and at home, too.  She began to
socialize with her new smoking friends from her job.  Soon she routinely
exceeded the pack a day level she first reached during exam week.

   Cindy liked to smoke with Lauren, too.  She knew the insidious habit was
deepening its hold on her daughter, physically and psychologically.
Amazingly, that didn't upset her.  In fact, she had to admit she actually
took pleasure in sharing her addiction with Lauren.  Cindy was irrevocably
hooked again, and knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.  She'd be a smoker now
till the day she died.  She'd given up any hope of resisting her renewed and
increasingly uncontrollable desire to smoke.  She'd never muster the strength
to quit again, and didn't want to.  And her reaction to Lauren smoking was
amazingly upbeat.  As she thought about it, she knew if Lauren wanted to
surrender to the same smoking obsession that had now renewed its control over
her own life, well, she understood.  She'd make the best of it and smoke with
her daughter.  Regardless of the consequences, Cindy Martin was a smoker
again.  She knew it, and liked watching Lauren follow her into the
inescapable but delightful condition of being a smoker, too.

   Cindy's somewhat unexpected happiness over Lauren's budding habit came
from a realization that her daughter was only heading down the road that she
herself chose as a teen.  In high school and college, Cindy loved to smoke.
Now Lauren did, too, which only made sense.  As a habit, smoking was
marvelously pleasurable.  Cindy felt sad that she missed so many years of
smoking satisfaction.  Regrettably, she'd screwed up, she knew, by quitting
years ago.  But she felt sure Lauren wouldn't make that mistake.  She wanted
her daughter to enjoy smoking, and encouraged her to give in to the thing she
herself missed out on for too many years.  She suffered a little guilt
feeling that way, but it was how she felt, and she didn't care.  She wasn't
about to change her mind.  She was glad that Lauren, and Jim, too, were
smoking like she was, and of course, that Tom was, too.

   Tom liked smoking his cigars.  But surprisingly, he also liked watching
his lovely wife slowly sink deeper and deeper into hopeless nicotine
addiction.  For some reason, it turned him on.  He knew the health risks, but
didn't worry about them.  Cindy loved to smoke, and he liked to see her enjoy
herself.  She was almost forty-five, so she wasn't incurring much long-term
risk starting again at that age.  Plus, smoking all the time took away all
her incentive to complain about his cigars.  He worried a bit about Lauren
and Jim smoking so heavily at their young ages.  But it was their choice, and
it was one he fully understood.  In some ways, like Cindy, in point of fact
he enjoyed having both his kids smoking around the house all the time.

   With his parents' blessing, Jim smoked all the time.  In addition to
cigarettes, he had an occasional cigar with his dad.  He developed a
missionary zeal for his habit.  After Thanksgiving he talked his girlfriend
Sarah into trying a cigarette.  Sarah was a cute girl, but only seventeen.
Jim hounded her mercilessly.  When she finally gave in, she took to smoking
like a fish to water.  By mid-December, when Lauren came home, Sarah was
regularly spending time at the Martin house, mainly because Tom and Cindy let
her smoke there.  Unlike her folks, the Martins didn't care if she smoked.
Lauren immediately liked Sarah.  By the time she met her, Sarah was up to
almost a pack a day, inhaling like a champ and sucking smoke deep into those
eager, youthful lungs of hers.  Lauren was almost jealous seeing cute little
Sarah smoke so earnestly and so heavily.  Lauren wished she'd started in high
school, too.  She regretted waiting till her junior year in college to pick
up the marvelous habit that she loved more with each passing day.

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

   Christmas vacation ended in mid-January, and Lauren went back to college.
For over a month she'd been smoking more than a pack a day.  Initially she'd
intended to cut down during vacation.  But she couldn't do it, and didn't
want to.  There were too many opportunities to smoke, and she liked it too
much.  The constant temptation provided by friends at work and her family at
home, and the fact that she repeatedly gave in, forever fortified her
enslavement to nicotine.  By the time she got back to school, her cravings
were regular as clockwork.  She knew what had happened, and knew she'd never
smoke fewer than twenty cigarettes a day ever again.  It didn't matter.  She
didn't want to go back.  If anything, she wanted to smoke more.  Each
cigarette was a special pleasure, and each light up an extraordinary treat.
Smoking with her mom especially had increased her addiction.  It wasn't only
that she was smoking more.  Lauren's inhales were also deeper, and she took
many more puffs from each cigarette.  She never crushed them out early
anymore, either, and enjoyed as many as fifteen heavy hits from each one.

   Giorgia instantly saw the change in Lauren's habit.  Her relatively
immature style had been superceded and permanently replaced by a more
advanced approach, one reflecting highly developed nicotine addiction.
Lauren now smoked like a pro, a woman totally addicted to her cigarettes and
with no intent of quitting.  Giorgia was pleased to see this.  From the start
she wanted Lauren to be a real smoker.  Her roommate had made great strides
in a very short time.

   The roommates grew closer second semester.  Lauren had wanted to be
Giorgia's "best buddy" and her wish came true.  Now that she smoked
incessantly, like her Italian friend, they hung out together constantly.
They ate together, socialized together, studied together and partied
together.  Lauren was happy, and so was Giorgia.  She, too, got her wish.
The pretty dark Italian girl wanted a thoroughly committed fellow smoker to
live with.  She now had it.  As the second semester progressed Lauren's
consumption soon settled in at a pack and a half every day.

   In high school Lauren played varsity sports, lettering in lacrosse.  But
the longer she smoked, the less she wanted to take part in activities
involving strenuous physical exertion.  She'd always been a runner, covering
a two mile course five days a week.  But the new Lauren, the smoker, soon cut
back.  Five days a week became four, and then a mere two runs a week.  Her
course length also shrank.  She jogged, instead of running, and did only a
mile each session.

   Lauren knew why it was happening, but she didn't care.  She winded faster.
It was harder to run so often and so hard.  But she wasn't going to quit
smoking.  She didn't _want_ to even cut down, let alone quit.  She'd have
given up jogging altogether, except for the euphoria she felt when at long
last she lit up a cigarette after a work out.  She loved the feeling of
sucking rich, creamy, thick smoke deep into her exhausted lungs.  It was such
a rush!

   At first her friends assumed smoking was a phase, attributable to
Giorgia's bad influence.  But it became obvious this was no temporary
phenomenon.  When Lauren's friends realized it, they reacted predictably.
They tried talking to her.  Words like "stupid," " killing yourself" and
similar admonitions were thrown out indiscriminately.  It royally pissed
Lauren off, and she told them.  Most couldn't understand why she loved to
smoke, and refused to hear her explanation.  It didn't matter.  Lauren's
circle of friends changed as a result.  By March she was spending most of her
time with other smokers, and predictably, smoking even more as a consequence.

   Spring break came, and the roommates were eager for another vacation with
Lauren's family.  When they arrived home, Giorgia noticed many changes since
November.  First, Cindy Martin was a new woman.  In four months she'd lost
thirty pounds.  Her countenance, too, had profoundly changed.  The
over-stressed, overweight bitch Giorgia met at Thanksgiving was now a
slender, pleasant woman who looked much younger than her forty-five years.

   And she smoked.  God, did she!  Cindy always seemed to have a lit
cigarette in her mouth or her hand.  She'd switched from Marlboro Lights
100's to full flavor Marlboro 100's.  Giorgia asked her about this change one
day as the three women shared coffee and cigarettes.

   "Yeah," Cindy admitted.  "I smoked these in college.  Back then the pack
was gold and white.  Now it's red," she chuckled.  "Lights are okay, but I
had to smoke too many to get the nicotine I needed.  I tried the Marlboro
100's to see if I could keep myself at a pack a day."  She laughed.  "It
didn't work.  I still smoke just as much, but I like the stronger cigarettes
so much better!"  She paused to light a fresh one.  "The taste is much nicer!
I love the stronger tobacco flavor, too."  As she spoke, a brisk torrent of
exhaled smoke flowed from her pursed lips.

   Giorgia slowly dragged on a Marlboro Light 100.  She sucked smoke deep
into her own lungs.  "I understand.  But just how much _do_ you smoke these
days, Cindy?"

   Cindy giggled.  "Oh God, I'm almost ashamed to tell you."  She took
another hit and thoughtfully lingered.  "I smoke between a pack and a half
and two packs every day.  Isn't that terrible?"  Once more, smoke reluctantly
escaped from her mouth and nostrils.

   "No," Giorgia said soothingly.  "It's not terrible, as you say.  As long
as you enjoy yourself, you should never apologize for how much you smoke.
I'll say this.  You look wonderful.  If you are smoking too much, as you say,
then it certainly agrees with you!"

   "I do enjoy it," Cindy bashfully acknowledged.  "Really, I love it," she
added more forcefully.  "I've lost thirty pounds since I started smoking
again.  I was so high-strung and tense."  She sighed.  "I got that way when I
quit smoking the first time," she added with a devious grin.  "I ate too much
to compensate for stress.  I constantly munched on potato chips, pretzels and
candy.  I was way too heavy.  I didn't like it, but it seemed unavoidable."
She paused to draw deeply on her cork-tipped cigarette.  "Now I hardly eat at
all.  I just smoke," she added with a throaty laugh.  "I feel better and I
know I look better, too, losing that extra weight."

   "You look really great, Mom," Lauren interjected.  "I've never seen you
look so good.  Honest.  If that's the result of smoking too much, then it's
the best thing you've ever done."

   "Thanks, honey," she smiled.  "I know I look better.  I was at a bar with
a friend recently and we were waiting for our husbands.  Before Tom arrived,
a man tried to pick me up!  Can you imagine it?  God, I was so pleased," she
giggled.  "That hasn't happened in years."

   "It is not surprising," Giorgia replied.  "You _do_ look good, Cindy.
Very sexy, as they say in America, and especially when you smoke.  You are a
wonderful looking smoker."

   "What do you mean?" Cindy asked.  From Lauren's face, Giorgia knew her
roommate didn't understand either.

   "Have you ever noticed how men stare at you when you smoke?"

   Cindy sat silently.  "Yeah," she replied slowly.  "I thought they were
just anti-smokers trying to make me uncomfortable."

   "Not all of them," Giorgia replied.  She knocked some ashes from her
cigarette and followed with a quick hit.  She suspected Cindy understood more
about this than she let on.  "Some men stare at you because they think
good-looking women who smoke are very sexy."

   "No way," Lauren began to object.  But as she considered Giorgia's
assertion, she had to admit she'd seen some rather admiring stares directed
her way in recent months.

   "Oh, yes," Giorgia said wittily.  "Many men, even women, love to watch a
woman smoke.  It turns 'em on, as your expression goes," she added with more
than a hint of amusement.  "I'm sure you both have had that happen."

   "I think you're right," Cindy acknowledged.  She smiled at Lauren as all
three of them simultaneously dragged on their cigarettes.  "You probably
wouldn't notice, dear, but I really think your father loves to see me smoke.
He likes it."

   Lauren released a thin thread of smoke from her lips.  "God," she gasped.
"Truly, Mom?"

   "Absolutely," Cindy smiled.  "Tom loves it when I smoke.  He especially
likes it when I share one of his cigars."

   "Mom!  You smoke cigars, too?" Lauren asked incredulously.

   "Of course," the good-looking older woman acknowledged smugly, chaining
into another cigarette.  "I thought you knew.  And why not?  If you've never
had one, dear, you should try it.  They're yummy."  She gave the college
girls a satisfied smile.  "You understand, don't you Giorgia?  Yes, I usually
have one cigar a day, plus all my cigarettes," she sighed.  "In addition to
the other things I love about smoking, it does wonders for our sex life."

   Lauren shook her head.  It was too much information.  She followed her
mom's lead and got out another cigarette.  "Wow!  I had no idea," she
muttered as lit up another Marlboro Light 100.  She exhaled a large cloud of
smoke and put her new cigarette in her fingers with her wrist cocked by her
head.  "I like to smoke as much as anyone at this table, but I've never had a
cigar."

   "Oh, honey, try it," Cindy implored.  "You know, let's have one right
now!  Would you two like to join me?"  As she waited for a reply, Cindy gazed
eagerly at her young smoking companions through all the ambient smoke.
"It'll be great.  Are you up for it, Giorgia?"

   The Italian girl smiled and tapped some ashes from her cigarette in the
ashtray.  Like Lauren, she had a fresh Marlboro in her right hand, and nodded
eagerly.  "I am always ready to smoke more, Cindy," she grinned excitedly
"I'd love a good cigar."

   "Wonderful," Cindy said, standing.  She took her cigarette with her as she
walked to the doorway.  "It's settled, then.  I'll get three from Tom's
humidor.  Oh, this will be so fun," she giggled as she left the room trailing
smoke behind her.

   Lauren was apprehensive.  "I'm not sure about this."  She took a nervous
drag.  "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked, sucking smoke even
deeper into her lungs than usual.

   "Of course," Giorgia said soothingly.  She patted Lauren's hand while her
roommate nervously expelled bursts of smoke from her nostrils.  "Your mother
is correct.  You love your cigarettes; so you'll love good cigars, too.  I've
never met anyone who likes cigarettes as much as you who doesn't also smoke
at least an occasional cigar."

   Cindy returned holding three big, long, brown cigars.  "These are Cru's,"
she explained, handing them out.  "Punch Grand Cru's, an excellent cigar
that's perfect for your first one, Lauren.  Get ready for a wonderful new
adventure, dear."

   As they finished their cigarettes Cindy gave Lauren a quick practicum on
cigar smoking and the pertinent practices and terms.  Lauren learned the
difference between the "head" and the "foot" of a cigar, and how to "shoulder
a cigar," referring to the preparation for smoking by clipping the tip.
Cindy demonstrated with her own Cru, then led Lauren through the process
while Giorgia watched with a smile.  

   "Okay, ladies," Cindy announced.  "Ready for lift off!"  She lit her Cru
and then coached Lauren through the procedure.  She warned her not to inhale,
but to savor the taste of the richer smoke.  "What do you think, honey?" she
expectantly asked after her daughter's initial puff.

   Lauren blew a thick cloud of cigar smoke into the already hazy air.  "Not
bad," she decided as she licked her lips.  The smoke was stronger and thicker
than the cigarettes she was used to; definitely more flavorful.  It had a
peculiar, pleasant, almost woody taste.  She grinned.  "It's different, but I
like it," she announced emphatically.  She returned the large, brown cylinder
to her lips for another slow puff.  "I like it very much," she reiterated,
blowing another cloud of thick smoke from her smiling lips.  Her Italian
roommate inhaled some of the aromatic smoke from her cigar, and exhaled it
slowly into the air.  "Yeah, this is good," Lauren concluded.  But she wanted
to try inhaling, just a little, like Giorgia.

   "I knew you'd like it," Cindy said, satisfied.  She watched her daughter
puff again, this time shallowly inhaling before releasing smoke from her
mouth in a dense cloud.  The smile on Lauren's face evidenced that she liked
it.  "It's different, but once you get used to it, smoking these is
wonderful."  She giggled.  "It's hard to inhale, though."

   "You do not have to inhale to enjoy," Giorgia interrupted.  "It is a
different experience, but very enjoyable.  Perhaps you and I can have cigars
together sometime at school.  Brigit and Libby would like them, too."

   Lauren nodded eagerly.  "You know, Mom, _so_ much has changed for the
better since last fall.  You look great, plus, you feel better.  You seem
happy, so unstressed.  And I'm really enjoying myself at school.  Our little
group of smokers is so close.  And Giorgia has become my best friend," she
added, squeezing her roommate's free hand.  "All these improvements have come
about because we all started smoking."

   Cindy smiled and took a long, leisurely pull on her cigar.  "I've
mellowed, honey," she nodded.  "And don't forget about your father and
brother.  Your dad's happier, and your brother feels he can talk to us
again.  He was hiding things from me.  Now we talk openly all the time.  He's
not afraid to tell me what's happening in his life anymore.  And I dearly
love little Sarah, his girlfriend.  Overall, it's a great situation."

   Lauren impulsively leaned over and kissed her roommate on the cheek.
"Thank you, Giorgia," she whispered.  "Thanks for everything."  She sighed.
"But you know what?  I'm going to miss you.  What will I do when your return
to Italy this summer?"

   Giorgia smiled hopefully.  "Perhaps you can come visit me.  I'd like that.
I can show you the sights of my country.  You would like Tuscany, Lauren."
She lowered her voice.  "In my country people smoke everywhere, all the time.
They smoke in the streets, in shops, everywhere.  It is multo buono!"  She
winked at her American friend.

   "I'd like that.  Maybe we can work it out for this summer.  What do you
think, Mom?"

   Cindy shook her head.  "We have to talk to your dad.  I can't make that
call alone.  It's a lot of money, Lauren.  Plus, you'd miss time to work.  I
know you'd like to.  It'd be fun.  But we'll have to see."

   Lauren smiled.  She knew her mother.  If she didn't say `no'
immediately, she'd likely say yes eventually.  Lauren puffed again on the
cigar.  Maybe she could soften her father up a bit, by offering to smoke one
of his cigars with him.

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

Epilogue:  The Final Cross-Cultural Experience

   It was hot and sunny.  Giorgia and her friend Francesca waited inside the
small airport in Florence, Italy.  A Lufthansa jet taxied to a stop on the
runway.  Passengers departed down the stairs from the jet to the tarp.
Giorgia recognized a young female among them.  She screamed and ran.  She
couldn't believe it.  Lauren had arrived in Italy!

   The two old friends hugged and kissed in typical Italian fashion while
awaiting Lauren's bags, and then Giorgia introduced her to Francesca.

   "I am pleased to meet you," Francesca said with a smile in halting
English.  Like Giorgia, she was a dark-haired beauty.  "Giorgia has told me
much about you."

   "Giorgia told me about you, too, Francesca," replied Lauren.  "All last
year, it was Francesca, Francesca, Francesca."  She laughed and smiled at the
pretty Italian girl.  Then she reached for a suitcase.  "This one's mine,"
she called out.  "And that one over there, too," she added, as Giorgia picked
up the second bag.

   Lauren let out a huge sigh.  "Wow, I'm bushed," she gasped.  Both Giorgia
and Francesca stared blankly.  Lauren laughed.  "That means I'm really
tired," she explained.  Flashes of recognition dawned on the faces of her
hostesses.  "So let's get going."

   The three women walked to the street.  Giorgia pointed to a car in the
parking area.  "Great," Lauren sighed again.  They sauntered along for a few
moments.  Then Lauren stopped.  "Hey," she exclaimed.  "I haven't had a
cigarette for over two hours.  My last one was in the Munich airport.  Thank
God for those Germans," she giggled.  "They smoke almost as much as I do."
She reached in her purse and withdrew a pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  "I'm
dying to have one," she announced eagerly.  "How about you guys?"

   Giorgia looked solemnly at her.  "Oh, I should have told you, Lauren," she
whispered apologetically.  "But Francesca and I both quit smoking this
summer.  I'm sorry."

   The dangling cigarette almost fell from Lauren's lips.  "What?" she
exclaimed.  "Are you shitting me, Giorgia?"  She stared in disbelief at her
former roommate.

   The Italian girls could stand it no longer.  Simultaneously they began
snickering.  "A trick.  We had you fooled for a minute," Giorgia giggled.
"You believed us, didn't you, Lauren?"

   Lauren lit up.  "I didn't believe it for a second," she quipped
defensively with her cigarette dangling.  She took a long, magnificent drag
and sucked smoke deep into her eager body.  "Because it'll never happen.
Giorgia, the day you quit smoking will be the day hell freezes over."

   Giorgia had her own cigarettes out by now, and she held her lighter to
light one for Francesca and then one for herself.  She nodded.  "That is not
quite the way I would say it, Lauren.  This will be more appropriate.  The
day I quit smoking?  That will be the day Italy becomes a Protestant
country!"  Hearing Giorgia's one-liner, Francesca laughed uncontrollably.

   Lauren didn't get it.  "What's so funny about that?"

   Giorgia waved her hand in a grand gesture.  "Come, Lauren.  Francesca and
I will show you the picturesque sights of Florence.  Then we will travel
south to visit our beautiful home city of Siena.  You see, once you observe
Italy's majestic churches, baptistries, and religious art, you will
understand the significance of my little joke."  With cigarette in hand, she
pointed at the tower of a large, magnificent church in the distance.  "You
see, Lauren, Italy is Catholic through and through."  She smiled.  "It is in
our blood.  It flows through our veins.  And I'm a smoker through and
through.  That is why I will never quit.  Ever.  Right, Francesca?"

   The other pretty dark-haired girl smiled and nodded.  "Si.  And here, we
can smoke wherever we want," she explained with the same charming accent.
"Unlike in your country.  Has Giorgia told you about this?"

   Lauren nodded.  "Oh yes, she has.  And I'm ready to experience it in all
its glory!"  She returned her cigarette to her lips.  "Let's go, girls," she
said happily.  "Show me the sights of beautiful Italy!  I'm ready for a
cross-cultural experience!"  She tipped her head and unreservedly released a
thick cloud of smoke into the air.

   Hours later, after walking the streets of Florence, the girls had coffee
at a small outdoor café.  Lauren looked around in wonder.  The architecture
was magnificent in the center of the old city.  She'd seen the duomo, the
bell-tower, and the baptistry, all of them hundreds of years old, and each
brimming with history that reflected the rich religious culture of an ancient
people.  The people.  Yes, the people seemed so friendly. . . .

   The warm summer breeze felt nice on her bare arms.  She took off her
sweater, and let the hot Tuscan sun beat down on her.  Through sunglasses she
watched the people of Florence go to and fro.  It was mid-afternoon, siesta
time.  The café where they sat was busy.  People were drinking coffee,
enjoying the weather and each other's company.  A good-looking young man and
a beautiful woman sat at a table nearby.  Dark skin and dark hair marked them
out as native Italians.  They were deep in animated conversation, using their
hands while talking in typical Italian fashion.  And both of them were
smoking.  Lauren sighed as she heard the melodious sounds of their rapid
Mediterranean speech..  This is how it should be everywhere, she knew.  A
handsome man and a strikingly beautiful woman, completely absorbed in each
other's presence, sharing coffee and cigarettes, without apology and without
regret.

   It was impossible not to notice the many people smoking openly while they
walked through the downtown streets of the ancient city.  Young men, young
women, older men, and older women, teenagers and adults.  Neither age nor sex
nor status seemed to matter.  They all smoked indiscriminately.  Lauren
smiled to herself as the young man and woman at the nearby table leaned
forward and shared a brief kiss before continuing their lively conversation.
In some ways, she realized, this wasn't a cross cultural experience at all.
Here, in beautiful Tuscany, she felt strangely and remarkably at home.  Here
in Italy, Lauren could at last enjoy living in the reality of what she'd
finally and fully become:  She was a smoker, and she was in a land where that
reality was enjoyed by most people walking by.  She put her cigarette to her
lips and took a long, marvelous drag.  She was a smoker, she repeated to
herself.  Welcome home!

THE END

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