First in the Class, Part 5

    This fictional account contains adult language and explicitly sexual
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 for any purpose as long as this notice is
reproduced and no financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly,
by the person reproducing it.

    FIRST IN THE CLASS

    5. Deeper and Deeper.

    Vicki's prediction proved true. Over the next week, Emily's smoking habit
stabilized at a new, higher level. Each day she smoked at breakfast, in her
car, at lunch, on breaks, and at home in the evening. On class nights, she
smoked openly during breaks. On study group nights, she smoked as much as any
of them. The remaining nights she smoked with Vicki while watching TV or
studying. She averaged approximately 15 cigarettes each day, and experienced
no ill effects. If anything, she felt unusually good. Except for a few snide
remarks from non-smokers at work, no one else paid much attention to her
growing habit.

    She worried about telling her mother. At the wedding she'd heard Christina
and Melanie tell their coming out stories. Her mother's reaction would be no
better than her aunts' response. Emily wondered if somehow she could blunt her
mother's certain criticism.

    Next Friday she was invited to dinner with her mom and George, the new
live-in boyfriend. Since Dana moved in with George, Emily rarely heard from
her. That was a good sign. It meant her mom was content. Emily'd never gotten
to know George. She was nervous about the dinner, but pleased to be invited.

    She got there a little before six. Driving from work, she'd smoked three
cigarettes. There'd be no opportunity to indulge at George's. Before going in,
she sucked on breath mints and doused herself with perfume, to mask the scent
of tobacco smoke which permeated both her clothes and her long, red hair.

    George was in the kitchen fixing dinner. In his mid forties, he was a
successful real estate developer. In his younger days he'd been a chef with
his own restaurant, and obviously loved to cook. He invited Emily into the
kitchen to talk while he minded the stove. Her mother was delayed at work and
wouldn't be home 'til six thirty. That was fine. It gave an opportunity to get
to know George.

    They talked about nothing in particular until Emily noticed a copy of
Cigar Aficionado magazine on the kitchen counter. Intrigued, she asked George
if he smoked.

    "Absolutely," he grinned. "I have at least one good cigar each day."

    "Oh, really?" she smiled. Pleased by this admission, she was thrilled to
discover her mother's new boyfriend was a smoker. She tried to restrain her
enthusiasm, retaining a casual tone and demeanor. "What does my mom think?
She's always been anti-smoking, you know."

    George laughed. "Dana doesn't like my cigars, but she puts up with 'em. It
was a big stumbling block when she moved in. I was straight with her, and I'll
be straight with you. I make no bones about it. I believe the tobacco leaf is
one of God's great gifts to humankind. A good premium cigar is its finest
incarnation. If someone won't tolerate that point of view, they shouldn't live
in the same house with me." He gave a warm and gracious smile. "Your mom has
accepted it. I hope it doesn't offend you."

    Emily smiled back. "Oh no, not at all," she muttered, fascinated with the
prospect of having inadvertently discovered an ally. "Why should it?"

    "It shouldn't. I'm glad it doesn't. Before Dana moved in, I told her in no
uncertain terms I wouldn't allow her to interfere with or criticize my love of
cigars. I'm 44 years old, and I'm set in my ways. I won't change. I like your
mom, but if she wanted to live with me, she had to accept my cigars. She
agreed, reluctantly." He brightened. "Want to see my humidor?"

    "Some other time," Emily said politely. She wanted to focus the
conversation on her mother's reaction. "So, Mom actually lets you smoke your
cigars with her in the house?"

    "Of course," he replied with a laugh. "I wasn't going to change. And it
was my house before she moved in. How could she stop me from smoking my
cigars?"

    "I didn't mean to suggest she _should_ stop you. It's just surprising.
God, my mother lives with a man who smokes cigars!" She laughed out loud.
"Wow, that's a change! She must really like you, George. It's not that there's
anything wrong with your cigars. It's just that Mom has always been ... so
prejudiced against smoking."

    "I'm trying to change that," George said softly. "You probably don't
smoke, Emily, but I hope you understand. I'm trying to show Dana we smokers
are ordinary people. We've simply learned to appreciate one of the finer
things in life. Like drinking fine wine, smoking a premium cigar is very
pleasurable."

    Emily nodded. "I'm sure. Cigar smoking is chic these days. Everyone's
doing it." She paused. He'd said nothing about cigarettes. His love for cigars
didn't necessarily mean he felt the same way about cigarettes, so she decided
to ask. "George, do you smoke cigarettes, too?"

    He smiled again. "Yeah, occasionally, though not as much as I used to. My
ex-wife, Rebecca, smoked cigarettes. Living with her, I was around them all
the time. Occasionally she shared my cigars, and in turn I smoked her
cigarettes. By the time our marriage ended, her smoking was the only thing I
still loved about her. To answer your question, though, I rarely buy them, but
if someone else is smoking cigarettes, I join in without objection."

    Oh, my God! Emily was ecstatic. George smokes cigarettes, too! It was so
cool. Perhaps together they could soften her mother's anti-tobacco ideology.
She glanced at her watch. Dana wouldn't be home for fifteen minutes. She
decided to risk it and spill the beans.

    "Can I tell you a secret, George?"

    "Sure," he said, stirring the sauce pan on top of the stove. "What is it?"

    "You have to promise you won't tell my mom!"

    He looked up. His eyes were smiling. It was as if he knew what she'd say.
"Now I'm curious. Okay, I promise."

    "My mom doesn't know, but I smoke, too. Except I smoke cigarettes."

    "I figured," George admitted with a sigh. "Most people aren't that
interested in my views on smoking in general, or cigarettes in particular. How
long have you been smoking?"

    "Since I moved in with my roommate Vicki," she replied with a sigh. "And I
don't want to quit." Relieved at his casual attitude and apparent lack of
concern, she went on.

    "I need to tell Mom, but I'm scared. Since you smoke, too, George, it
might make it easier. I mean, how can she yell at me for smoking if she lives
with a guy who smokes?"

    George nodded. "What brand do you smoke? Why did you start? How much do
you smoke? Do you enjoy it?" he asked in rapid succession.

    "Whoa," Emily laughed. "One question at a time. Let's see. I smoke
Marlboro Lights 100's. Believe it or not, I already smoke between half a pack
and a pack a day. I first started because of my roommate. I like smoking.
Maybe that's dumb, but I really do."

    "It's not dumb," George said compassionately. "I told you, the tobacco
leaf is one of God's greatest gifts. But you ought to try a good cigar. If you
like cigarettes, I'm sure you'd enjoy one of my cigars."

    "I'd like to," Emily said earnestly. "When my mom's not around, you and I
could ...."

    George interrupted with a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey! Can I tell a
secret, too? You mustn't tell your mother I told you. Promise?"

    She nodded eagerly as George continued. "Dana and I are talking about
getting engaged. What do you think of that?"

    Emily was shocked. Putting up his hand to wave off her reply, he went on.
"Dana's been in a long series of failed relationships. She's been hurt. After
my first marriage, so was I. We're cautiously talking about a long-term
commitment. That's why I wanted to invite you for dinner tonight. Not to tell
you about our possible engagement, but to get to know you. I'm very fond of
Dana, and she loves me. I want you to like me, too."

    "Wow," was the only answer Emily was capable of offering.

    "You may ask, what does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"
he added with a smile. "Simply this. I won't consider any long-term commitment
unless Dana acquires my love for cigars. I don't want her to merely tolerate
them. I want her approval. The woman I marry must share everything with me,
including my cigars. I feel strongly about that. I explained it to Dana. At
first, she was horrified. But we talked about it. She wants our relationship
to last, as do I. She's considering my requirement. I think she's about to
give in and try smoking with me. Assuming the cigar smoking lessons go well,
and they will, it'll open the door to tell her that you smoke, too. What do
you think?"

    "That would be way cool!" Emily's reply was enthusiastic. She grinned from
ear to ear. "God, I love you already, George! But why is it so important that
Mom smoke cigars with you?"

    "A good cigar is one of my favorite things," he explained. "It's a daily
ritual for me. I can't explain it, but perhaps as a cigarette smoker you
somewhat understand. It's so relaxing. Smoking a cigar makes my tension go up
in smoke. I started smoking cigars when I had my restaurant. In those days,
everybody in food service smoked. My partner loved good cigars and I learned
to share his affection. I'll put it this way. I enjoy cigarettes, but I love a
good cigar."

    "It works for me," Emily replied happily. An instant bond had formed.
"God, I hope you can convince Mom to try it. That would be great for me!"

    "It'll work if she's open-minded." Suddenly, his eyes twinkled. "In fact,
I'll help you in the process," he added in the same conspiratorial whisper.

    "What do you mean?"

    "I'll tell Dana the cigar smoking lessons will be in two steps. I'll make
her learn to smoke cigarettes first. I'll explain it's easier to start with
cigarettes and then graduate to cigars."

    Emily was speechless. "Did you say what I think you said?" she asked. "Are
you suggesting _making_ my mom smoke cigarettes? My mother?" He affirmed her
by giving an evil grin. "Oh, my God," she gasped, smiling incredulously.

    "It'll help both of us," he continued. He was into it now. "I'll tell Dana
she must smoke cigarettes for awhile before she tries her first cigar. Cigars
are my objective, but I can teach her to like cigarettes, too. Eventually
she'd probably find them more convenient anyway. What brand did you say you
smoke?"

    "Marlboro Lights 100's."

    "Perfect. I'll buy a couple packs. We'll smoke a few Marlboros together
every night to start. Unlike with cigars, by starting on cigarettes Dana will
learn to inhale. But that's okay. She'll become accustomed to cigarettes
pretty fast. Don't you think?"

    "Oh, yeah," Emily nodded, still in shock. "It took me no time at all!"

    "Great. After she gets used to cigarettes, I'll introduce her to my
premium cigars. It'll be perfect! You'll get what you want, and I'll get what
I want, too."

    A light clicked on in Emily's head. "George, what did you mean when you
said she'll eventually find cigarettes more convenient?"

    "Oh, I want Dana to smoke every day, like I do," he said frankly. "But in
many places it's not convenient, or possible, to smoke cigars, especially if
you're a woman. She'll need to smoke something at those times. I assume she'll
want to smoke cigarettes to satisfy her cravings."

    "Wait. Let me get this straight. You're not just talking about Mom
occasionally smoking cigars, are you?. You're saying that, before you get
married, she must become a hard-core smoker? She has to agree to become
addicted? Is that it?"

    "Basically, yes. I want her to feel the way I do about cigars. I smoke one
every evening. I often have another in my car during the day. I can't live
without them. Addiction? Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying. Is that a
problem?"

    Emily involuntarily released an incredulous laugh. "No, it's no problem to
me. I can't live without my cigarettes, either," she admitted with an
understanding smile. "At least, not anymore. But your proposal is a pretty
tall order. I'm not sure she'll buy it. That's all."

    George smiled and wiggled his finger. "No addiction, no ring. It's that
simple. She understands. That's why she's thinking about it. She must become a
true aficionado. I want her to enjoy cigar dinners with me at my club. I want
her to look forward to smoking. If she doesn't, it's less fun for me. I want
tobacco to get completely under her skin!"

    Before Emily could reply, the door opened. Dana walked in, huffing and
puffing. "Sorry I'm late," she gasped. "I drove as fast as I could. I got tied
up at work." She gave George a hug and a quick kiss. "When did you get here,
Emily?"

    "A little before six."

    "Great," Dana responded, brushing her red hair away from her face, her arm
still hooked with George's. "So, you've had a chance to get to know each other
without me?"

    Emily and George looked at each other and smiled. Neither of them spoke.

    Dana looked at her daughter. "Tell me. What do you think of him, Emily?
Isn't George absolutely wonderful?" she asked enthusiastically. "Isn't he the
best?"

    "He sure is," Emily smiled slyly. "And Mom, if I were you, I'd do whatever
it takes to hang onto him. Anything at all. And I'm sure you will!"

   
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    On Tuesday, the students started a new six week session on workers
compensation law. Emily already knew a little about workers comp. During
Emily's high school years, Dana suffered a work related back injury and
participated in a rehabilitation program at the bureau of workers
compensation. Emily knew some procedures, and the payment and rehabilitation
programs sponsored by workers comp. She hoped her familiarity would help.

    The adjunct instructor for the section was Tim Roberts, a practicing
lawyer specializing in workers comp law. Most instructors were older members
of the local bar. But Tim Roberts was in his early thirties. He was handsome,
about six two with blond hair and a tan like a lifeguard's. Tisha, Amy and
Emily agreed they'd be happy listening to him talk about anything!

    That night Vicki didn't show. It surprised the members of the study group.
Vicki was always there. She was their acknowledged, if unofficial, leader. It
wasn't like her to cut. The instructor started a little after six o'clock, and
Emily took careful notes so she could share them with her missing roommate.

    The class was enjoyable. Emily liked Mr. Roberts. He was witty, and an apt
teacher. The material was fascinating. She was sorry Vicki missed it. The
first hour and a half flew by.

    At the break, the usual students filed outside. Emily, Tisha, Amy and
Steve gathered by the back door and lit up, one by one. If timed right, they
had time for two cigarettes in the fifteen minute break. They were shocked
when Mr. Roberts meandered outside as well and pulled a pack of Benson &
Hedges Menthol Lights 100's from his coat. He stood only a few steps from
Emily and company as he lit up.

    "Mr. Roberts!" Tisha exclaimed. "You're the first professor we've ever had
who came outside to smoke with us! We wondered if there were any lawyers who
smoke in this town."

    "Please, call me Tim," he smiled graciously. "Don't worry. Lots of lawyers
smoke. From the look of things, after this class graduates there'll be lots of
smoking paralegals, too." He motioned at the dozen or so students smoking. "I
hope coming out and smoking with you doesn't intimidate you."

    "Not at all," Emily assured him. "We're delighted to have the company."
She took a long pull on her Marlboro. "Do many paralegals smoke?"

    "Oh, yeah," Tim smiled. "Some are embarrassed to admit it, but of the six
different paralegals I've worked with since graduating from law school, I'd
guess two-thirds smoke."

    "That's good," Amy grinned. She chained into a second Winston 100. "That
means there's a place for us in the legal community." She laughed, as did the
others.

    The group chatted with Tim Roberts 'til the break ended. For Emily, the
second half of the class was more interesting than the first. She answered
several questions, emboldened by the instructor's easy manner. In fact, she
talked more than any student. She felt good afterward, smoking two cigarettes
in her Geo Storm during the drive home.

    Vicki was on the couch. White as a sheet, she was weeping. A smoky haze
filled the air.. "What's wrong, sweetie?" Emily said, filled with compassion.
Vicki was in obvious distress. "Why are you crying?" Sitting down, she wrapped
her arms around her lover.

    "Shit," Vicki exclaimed in anger through tears. "Shit, shit shit! You
won't believe what happened today!"

    "What?"

    She stared at Emily with bloodshot eyes. "My dad called. His business is
in trouble. His bookkeeper embezzled over half a million dollars! The
bookkeeper told Dad she'd been paying the company's taxes, but she lied. She
pocketed the money. The IRS is demanding payment, and the money's gone! She
spent it!" She burst into tears.

    "Oh, my God!" Emily exclaimed. "How can someone embezzle that much money
and not get caught?"

    "She'd worked for Dad for years. He trusted her, but she stopped paying
the taxes. Dad didn't find out until he got a notice from the IRS today. It's
a mess."

    Emily shook her head. "That's terrible! What's he going to do?"

    Vicki sighed. "He's not sure. His lawyer's trying to work it out with the
IRS. But he needs to raise cash." She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.
"He's selling this duplex right away to raise money to help pay the taxes."

    "Holy shit!" Emily gasped.

    "There's more! He wants me to come home. I worked with his bookkeeper in
high school and college. The bitch has disappeared, and he needs somebody to
organize the books. She left everything in shambles. I know more about his
accounting system than anyone." She wiped her eyes again. "I'm leaving
tomorrow to go home."

    "You can't," Emily protested. "You're in school!"

    Without answering, Vicki threw her tissue on the table. "God, I need
another cigarette," she announced firmly. With trembling hands, she grabbed
her Marlboro Lights 100's. Placing one in her mouth, she flicked her
disposable lighter and lit up. Her cheeks caved in. The hollowing created a
powerful suction, drawing an immense amount of smoke into her body. She pumped
hard, once, twice and then a third time. With each drag, she pulled large
quantities of smoke into her lungs, letting none of it escape from her
nostrils in the process.

    "I got hold of the school this afternoon," she went on, spurting smoke.
"They'll let me withdraw from the paralegal program and re-enter next summer
after things clear up at home. So I'm quitting my job, dropping out of school
and moving back."

    "Shit," Emily grumbled. Automatically, she reached for a cigarette, too.
Pressure was building inside her, and she needed relief. In such
circumstances, she was becoming more accustomed to the relief that infusing
nicotine provided. She joined Vicki in lighting up, taking a hard initial draw
and sucking the smoke deep inside. "What does this mean for us, babe?" she
asked, emitting twin streams from her nostrils. "Does this mean we're
through?"

    "I guess," Vicki admitted reluctantly. "I'll be with my parents back home
for awhile. You need to find a new place. My dad wants a realtor to show this
house as soon as possible to get it sold. You can stay for a week or so. I'm
sorry, Emily."

    "Christ! What will I do?" Emily took another hard hit. "But that's not the
worst part. I'll miss you, Vicki. I knew our relationship wasn't long-term. I
know we both eventually intended to go back into the market for boyfriends. I
just didn't intend to do it so soon!" She leaned over and kissed Vicki, tears
welling up in her eyes. "Fuck! I like sleeping with you, I like studying with
you, and I like smoking with you. I'm not ready to give it up."

    "Me neither," Vicki smiled. "I wish we could stay together. But we can't.
My folks need me. I've got to go."

    The women shared a smoky embrace as the tears flowed. "I've already packed
my stuff," Vicki sniffled. "I'm driving home tomorrow morning. You can tell
the study group tomorrow night. I've attended my last session." She smiled.
"You also need a new place for the group to meet." She hit hard on her
cigarette. "I'm so sorry to do this, Emily. I know it's really shitty!"

    "There's nothing you can do," Emily consoled as Vicki exhaled the smoke
from her sad mouth. "It's not your fault. I'll make it. I'm worried about
you."

    "Don't worry about me," Vicki replied. "Things will work out. But what are
you going to do? You're a bona fide smoker now. That limits your options in
finding a place to live."

    "I don't know," Emily admitted. "There must be someone I can move in with
who'll let me smoke." As she thought, she took a long, drawn-out drag. As
always, pulling smoke deep into her lungs felt great. She held it inside as
long as possible, unwilling to release it until the nicotine finished its
marvelous work. "I'll find something," she finally said, letting wisps of
smoke discharge from her lips and her nostrils. "Maybe the study group will
have some ideas."

    That night, Emily and Vicki shared a last, bittersweet tryst. The
lovemaking was soft, sweet, and painfully satisfying. In response to Vicki's
request, Emily chain-smoked. Vicki was embarrassed to admit it, but Emily knew
she liked her to smoke when they made love. Tonight, Vicki asked her. Emily
happily accommodated her lover one last time. She smoked all evening, before,
during and after making love. By the end, Emily was satiated, in more ways
than one.

    They shared a tearful farewell the next morning. Vicki promised to call
and visit after she re-settled at her parents' home. But Emily knew it was the
end of an extraordinary era.

    On Wednesday night, the study group met. Emily explained the situation.
Everyone mourned Vicki's departure from the group, and were sympathetic about
Emily's need for a new place. But Amy was living with a guy, and Tisha was
married, so neither could help. However, Steve said he and Bob, his roommate,
had an unused bedroom in their apartment. Their original third roommate never
panned out. He offered to talk with Bob about Emily moving in for awhile.
Though it meant living with guys, Emily was desperate. She encouraged him get
back to her as soon as possible.

    In the meantime, Emily called her mom. She was embarrassed to ask if she
and George had extra room, though she liked George and he seemed to like her.
She'd heard nothing about the 'smoking lessons,' but she had to do something
about her living arrangement. There was no harm in asking. At first, her mom
was strangely ambivalent.

    "I don't know about you coming here, honey," Dana said diffidently.
"Things are sort of in flux."

    "Why, Mom?" Emily asked. "What's going on?"

    "I'm not sure," Dana hesitated. "George and I are talking about our
relationship." She paused. "He may ask me to marry him," she added slowly.

    "Really?" Emily replied, feigning surprise. "That'd be great! He seems
like a damn good catch, Mom. You're a lucky woman!"

    "I think you're right, honey. But there are things I need to work on
before I can decide."

    It's the smoking thing, Emily assured herself. Time to provide some
not-so-subtle encouragement. "Gee, Mom, I'm surprised by your reluctance. It's
none of my business, of course, but you've been looking for a man like George
for a long time. He's good looking, he's financially secure, he seems
responsible, he has no significant vices, and he obviously likes you. What
more could you want? If he'll pop the question, I'd go for it."

    There was a long hesitation. "He made a strange request," she began.
"George is a dedicated cigar smoker. He smokes one every night in his study.
After living with Vicki, you know what it's like to live with a smoker. It's
hard to get used to. The whole house smells when he's puffing on those damn
things."

    Emily was amused by this partial disclosure. "Don't worry, Mom. You get
used to it," she urged helpfully, knowing what was really going on. "After
all, I have. In my opinion, it's a small price to pay. Trust me. It won't
bother you at all after awhile."

    "That's not the only problem," Dana admitted. "I've put up with the smell
of his damn cigars since before I moved in. I can live with that. No, there's
more." Another long pause followed. "George wants me to learn to smoke his
damn cigars," she said dramatically. She awaited a response. Emily didn't
react, so she went on. "George won't tie the knot with a woman who doesn't
share his love for cigars. At first, I was offended. I always thought smoking
was terrible. But I told George I'd try it. I've been experimenting with him
since last weekend. I'm embarrassed to admit it. He's teaching me to smoke."

    "Wow, that's a surprise," Emily responded with feigned astonishment. "So,
do you like it? Are you going to keep smoking cigars with him?"

    "I don't know," Dana confessed. "Actually, I haven't smoked a cigar yet."

    "Then, what are you smoking?" Emily was extremely interested in this
admission.

    "Cigarettes," Dana said quietly. "George says I need to learn to smoke
cigarettes before I'm allowed to try my first cigar. Don't you think that's
strange?"

    "Not really," Emily replied cheerfully. "Look, Mom, everyone has something
that's irrationally important to them. You've stumbled across George's. Just
thank your lucky stars it's not something really kinky. Millions of people
smoke cigarettes and cigars. It's not that weird."

    "I guess not," Dana sighed.

    Emily wanted to give some encouragement. "So, tell me. How's it going?"

    "Okay, I guess. God, I can't believe I'm telling you this. It's so
embarrassing. But given all that's going on between us, it's not a good idea
to think about you moving in right now. I don't even want to ask George."

    "Don't be embarrassed, Mom. George is great. If occasionally smoking with
him makes him happy, I'd do it. I mean, how bad can it be?" When Dana didn't
respond, she pressed for some indication of her mother's mindset. "Let me ask
it this way. Do you like smoking so far?"

    "Not really," Dana replied honestly. "I'd never tell George. But I'm not
sure I'm cut out to be a smoker. It seems so gross."

    "How much time have you given it? Have you given it a fair shake?"

    "George says tonight's the big night, 'cause he's going to teach me to
inhale. Apparently, that's when you breath the smoke into your lungs instead
of blowing it directly out of your mouth. He says it's the last step in
learning to smoke cigarettes. I don't see why it's so damn important. But
we'll see. I'll let you know how it goes. Thanks for understanding."

    "No problem. Yeah, let me know," Emily purred. "Hey, don't lose George
over this insignificant little thing, Mom. If this is as weird as it gets,
you're pretty lucky!"

    "I guess you're right. Thanks for the encouragement."

    Emily sighed with contentment as she hung up. Talking about smoking with
her mom made her want another cigarette herself! She'd already smoked a lot
tonight with the group. But since she felt like it, why not? With a smile, she
lit up the last Marlboro in her pack.

    God, she realized, I just opened this pack this morning! That means I
smoked twenty cigarettes today! It's a new record. She wondered whether George
would teach her mom to inhale using the same method Vicki taught her. She gave
a lustful sigh. If so, she'd find it enjoyable! Emily took a long drag and
pulled the obliging smoke deep inside. In so doing, she experienced that same,
familiar pleasure she'd already felt 19 times that day. As she began her
exhale, her free hand found its way inside her panties. She was accustomed to
having Vicki do this for her. But until a substitute surfaced, she'd just have
to do it herself!

   
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    The next Saturday Emily moved in with Steve and his roommate, Bob. She
suspected Bob's assent was financially motivated. They needed three roommates
to comfortably make the monthly rent. It was a squeeze, but Emily had managed
to budget a share of the rent. Her mother was worried about her daughter
living with two men, but Emily reassured her. This was the nineties, after
all.

    Bob was a nonsmoker, but he did let Steve smoke in his bedroom. Emily was
allowed to smoke on the same terms. She could smoke in her bedroom, but
nowhere else in the apartment. At first, this seemed too restrictive. At
Vicki's, Emily was accustomed to smoking wherever she pleased. But she
adjusted. She simply spent most of her time in her room.

    Although Vicki was no longer constantly lighting up around her, Emily's
smoking continued at the same level. She was now a pack a day girl. Unable to
smoke in the kitchen with her morning coffee, she began having her first
cigarette of the day in bed. Two ashtrays adorned her small bedroom, one on
her bedside table. As soon as she awoke each day, she reached for her
cigarettes and lit up. She enjoyed taking nicotine into her system while
snuggled in her bedclothes. After using the bathroom and eating a light
breakfast, she returned to her room for a second cigarette while she dressed.
After two more cigarettes in the car while driving downtown, she was prepared
to start the day.

    At work her consumption stayed the same, with two cigarettes on morning
break, three or four over lunch with Jenny and the other smokers, and two more
during the afternoon break. After work, she smoked two Marlboros driving home
or to class. Therefore, every day by six o'clock Emily had consumed
approximately fourteen cigarettes.

    Her evening consumption, varied depending on the night. On class nights,
she had two during the break, two more on the way home, and another three or
four in her room before bed, for a total of 22 cigarettes, slightly over one
pack. On study group nights, though, she smoked more. She sometimes had as
many as nine cigarettes while they studied together, followed by two more
before bed in her room, for a total of more than 25. Other nights, studying
alone in her room, she smoked less. Her consumption those days held steady at
20 cigarettes, or one pack.

    Despite Bob's rules, Emily's smoking didn't seem to trouble him. In fact,
he seemed fascinated having a female roommate. Modesty wasn't Emily's greatest
virtue. Without thinking she frequently wandered into the kitchen half dressed
in the evening. From time to time she noticed Bob staring at her. Unlike
Steve, he wasn't dating anyone. To Emily, sometimes Bob's visual attention
seemed like something more than just not being able to resist watching a
scantily clad female walking through his apartment.

    The study group met at Tisha's. Steve and Bob's apartment was big enough,
but Bob didn't like all the smokers polluting his living room. Tisha and her
husband, on the other hand, were glad to host the four smokers' study
sessions. It was crowded at their place, but it was a smoke friendly
environment, because Tisha's husband smoked, too.

    For the time being, Dana was silent about smoking. Mother and daughter
talked about other things, but Dana never mentioned smoking again. Emily
wasn't sure what it meant, but she didn't ask. Disappointingly, George never
called to update Emily. However, there was no hint of trouble between them.
Emily was too busy to worry about it. She figured somebody would tell her what
was happening at an appropriate time. In any case, Dana hadn't moved out. That
was a good sign.

    By December, the paralegal program was half over. Emily's class standing
continued to rise. Her cumulative GPA inched upward. She was now in the top
twenty-five percent. She was delighted, and she loved Tim Roberts' workers
comp class. He was an absorbing instructor and the class materials were
interesting. When final grades were posted for his course in early December,
she had the highest grade. She was amazed and pleased. It was a glorious
night. Without no one to share it with, she bought herself a bottle of wine on
the way home to celebrate.

    She returned to the apartment after class. It was ten at night. Steve was
out with a new girlfriend. Bob was watching TV. Seeing Emily bring a wine
bottle in the house, he asked what was the occasion. She told Bob the good
news about getting the highest grade in the class. Being polite, she asked Bob
if he wanted to join her for a drink to celebrate her good fortune.

    "Sure," Bob smiled. "I'd love some wine." He retrieved wine glasses from
the kitchen. The furniture and most of the kitchen accouterments were his.

    Emily poured, and in an hour and a half they consumed four glasses.. The
more they drank, the more comfortable Bob became. He seemed almost laid-back.
Tall and handsome, he was a big man, over six five, with blond hair. Emily had
always found him quite attractive. As it got later, Bob let down his guard.
They laughed and talked about everything and nothing. By eleven thirty, both
of them were more than a bit tipsy.

    Emily wanted to be considerate, but finally she could wait no longer.
After Bob finished a very funny and slightly off-color joke, she made an
announcement. "God, I'm sorry, Bob," she giggled apologetically. "But I really
need a cigarette." She hadn't smoked since her drive home. Her body craved
nicotine, and the alcohol intensified her need. "I'll just slip into my room
and have one real quick. I'll be back in five minutes," she laughed. "Don't go
anywhere."

    "Hey, wait a minute," Bob smiled. He felt mellow. "What the hell! Go ahead
and have one out here. I don't mind."

    "Are you sure?" she winked impishly, delighted by his momentary lenience.
"After all, I don't want to fuck up your furniture with the nasty smell of my
tobacco smoke."

    "No, go ahead," he urged earnestly. "I don't mind."

    "Okay," Emily replied. She happily disappeared into her bedroom.
Immediately she returned with an ashtray. From her purse she retrieved her
cigarettes and her lighter. She put one in her mouth, and then stopped. "Want
one?" she kidded mischievously, before lighting up.

    Bob hesitated. "Uh, sure," he replied. "I'll join you."

    Emily was shocked. "I was kidding," she responded. "Are you sure? Do you
really want a cigarette?"

    "Yeah, why not?" he smiled. "I smoked a little when I was in high school.
I gave it up because of basketball. The coach didn't let us smoke, and I
didn't want to get kicked off the team. But I'll join you for a cigarette now,
if we can also have another glass of wine."

    "Certainly," Emily smiled. "This will be fun." She handed Bob her pack.
She lit her own cigarette and then held the lighter for him. He awkwardly put
a cigarette to his lips and accepted the light. He took a shallow, initial
puff. With a shallow inhale, he began to smoke.

    Emily was fascinated by Bob's concession, but she had more urgent matters
to attend to. She took a long, drawn out first drag on her cigarette, and
pulled the smoke deep into her lungs. She needed nicotine, and she smoked
aggressively. She followed her first hit with a second one, just as long and
just as deep. "You look good smoking a cigarette, Bob," she sighed seductively
after inhaling, all the while exhaling bits of smoke. "You should do it more
often."

    Bob grinned. The wine had diminished his inhibitions. In fact, talking
with this tall, beautiful redhead for the last hour and a half had made him
horny. Smoking with her now seemed deliciously decadent. "Thanks," he said in
reply. "You look pretty damn good yourself."

    Emily was in the middle of another long drag. The corners of her
preoccupied lips formed a wanton smile, which erupted full blown as she
snapped a large ball of smoke down into her hungry lungs. "If I look good
smoking, it's because smoking makes me so happy," she cooed. "It satisfies me.
And I do all kinds of crazy things when I'm satisfied."

    "Like what?" Bob asked playfully. The cat and mouse game began in earnest.
"Tell me what crazy things you like to do when you're feeling really good."

    She cocked her wrist, coyly holding the cigarette with one hand while she
took a sip of wine from the glass in her other one. "Sometimes I play with
myself," she giggled. "I like to play with myself when I smoke because smoking
makes me feel sexy. Do you think that's bad?"

    Bob moved closer. "No. In fact, I'd love to see you do it," he laughed.
"How do you smoke and play with yourself at the same time?"

    "It's easy. I can show you," she boasted. Like Bob, she was now drunk. "I
do it all the time in my room. But I won't. Because you'll just laugh at me."

    "No, I won't. I promise. Show me."

    She took another hit. "First, I want to see you smoke more," she
instructed. "I mean really smoke! I'm not doing this alone, you know." She
wiggled the cigarette in her fingers.

    "Okay," Bob offered. He took two, consecutive, long puffs on his
cigarette, inhaling each one, and exhaling from his mouth. "There. See? I did
it. But I'll bet you still won't show me," he pouted.

    Emily set down the wine glass. She defiantly moved her left hand to her
crotch. With her right hand she put the cigarette in her mouth, and began
stroking herself through her pants. She began breathing heavily,
intermittently puffing and releasing smoke around the dangling cigarette while
she panted. She moaned as smoke encircled her head, her eyes half closed.

    "Oh, God," she gasped. She stopped and opened her eyes wide as smoke
escaped from her lips. "This feels really good," she sighed, cigarette still
dangling. "I told you it would."

    She looked at him. Bob's swollen member had formed a large protrusion in
his pants. He was hard. While watching Emily masturbate, he inadvertently
stopped trying to hide his bulging cock from her view. "Oh, my God," she
giggled, her cigarette still in her lips. "You're hard!"

    "Sorry," Bob apologized abruptly. "It's just that you look so hot touching
yourself."

    "Do you really think so?" she asked seductively. "God, I'm glad you like
it. I know I do. But I could use some help here. I'm so horny. I mean, I'd
love for someone to play with my tits a little bit while I'm rubbing my pussy.
Would you help me, Bob?"

    Thrilled by the turn of events, Bob started to put his cigarette in the
ashtray. Emily interrupted him. "Oh, no," she ordered. "If you want me really
happy, put your cigarette in your mouth." She smiled. "That makes me happy.
And you want me to be happy, don't you, Bob?"

    Without a word, Bob nodded. He put his half-smoked cigarette between his
lips. In truth, he'd have done anything she asked. He just wanted to get his
hands on her firm breasts. Desire ruled him now. He wouldn't back down,
whatever the cost.

    Seeing the cigarette in Bob's mouth, Emily thrust her chest forward,
silently inviting him to touch her breasts. When he put his hands on her tits,
she moaned. She breathed harder now, violently thrusting smoke in and out of
her mouth. Ashes from her cigarette fell onto her lap and all over Bob's arms
as he slowly massaged her bosoms. They neither noticed nor cared. Bob, too,
breathed harder, involuntarily pulling smoke into his own lungs from his
dangling cigarette, as his desire increased geometrically.

    "Have you ever had a smoky kiss, Bob?" Her question was whispered, but
demanding. She loved him massaging her tits. "Have you ever kissed a girl
while she was smoking?"

    "No," he breathed emphatically. His fingers had found her taunt nipples
inside her blouse. "I never have."

    "Would you like to? I can show you how it's done," she spoke softly and
longingly. "Just take your cigarette out of your mouth!"

    Obediently he set his cigarette in the ashtray. Emily took a long, hard
drag on hers. As she sucked the smoke into her lungs, she put it in the
ashtray beside his. With eyes half closed, she leaned forward and put her
hands on his head. She guided his face against her own. With lips on lips and
tongues connecting, they kissed, first softly, then passionately. Smoke from
Emily's lungs drifted up and out through her mouth and nose, finding its way
into Bob's hungry mouth. It wasn't smoke that he wanted, but it was smoke that
he got, introduced into his mouth along with Emily's darting tongue.

    "Mmmm, smoking and kissing makes me really happy," she sighed contentedly
after the first frantic wave of kissing. She took a last puff from her
cigarette and crushed it out. "Only one thing makes me happier. Can you guess
what that is?"

    Bob's hands returned to her breasts. He was unbuttoning her blouse. He
didn't answer.

    "It's smoking and fucking," she gurgled with delight. "I want to fuck you!
Can we fuck, Bob?"

    Before he answered, she forced her mouth onto his again, exhaling smoke.
He lapped up the smoke, willing to endure anything for an opportunity to move
on to the next, inevitable step. Emily was excited to give him what he wanted.
The process had already moved her to the brink of orgasm. She put her hands on
his crotch, stroking his throbbing member. He in turn removed her blouse and
pulled off her bra. His mouth buried itself in her tits, covering them with
kisses while she moaned and rubbed him harder.

    "Your room or mine?" he gasped, pulling her to her feet.

    "Mine," she panted. "Because I want to smoke while we do it. I'm serious!
I fuck best when I'm smoking. And tonight I want to give you the best fuck
you've ever had!"

    "That's okay," he said urgently. "I just want you! You can smoke all night
if you want!"

    "I just might," she sighed. She smiled at him as she picked up her
cigarettes and ashtray. Half dressed, she carried them into the bedroom. Bob
followed close behind. He swung the door closed behind him and turned to look.
Emily had lit another cigarette. Perched on the edge of her bed, she playfully
beckoning him to come to her. Bob didn't mind the smoke now. He hardly noticed
it. He was about to get what he really wanted! And she wanted it, too.

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