Just practicing, Part 3

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such language
and themes offend you, please do not read further.  The persons and events
described in this work are purely fictional.  Any similarity to actual
persons or events is strictly coincidental.  Copyright 2001 by SSTORYMAN.
All rights reserved.  Permission is hereby 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.

JUST PRACTICING

3.	Practice Makes Perfect.

   For the next week Megan and Christi practiced diligently.  Some in the
dorm gave them grief about their smoking.  The boys across the hall said they
were playing with fire.  But the girls next door, Holly and Jaime, were more
circumspect.  They admitted to being casual, social smokers, and began
dropping by to smoke with Megan and Christi.  Since they were only social
smokers, neither of them had cigarettes.  Megan and Christi liked their
support and company, however.  So the roommates shared their carton of
Marlboro Lights 100's with Jaime and Holly.

   Megan and Christi also visited Becki and Laurie's room.  Lots of kids on
their floor, mostly freshman girls, hung out there.  Most of them smoked, at
least some.  Megan was amazed by how many girls in her dorm smoked, at least
socially.  Some were people she never suspected.  Being there turned out to
be a nice way to get to know other girls in her dorm.

   As Chelsea insisted, Megan smoked ten cigarettes every day.  She really
didn't enjoy it at first, but she did it anyway.  It mostly was a nuisance.
She hated the stench the smoke left on her clothes, her hair and everything
else in their room.  But she was inhaling regularly, and decided she'd pretty
much mastered it.  Chelsea, Brenda and Mick agreed she was making good
progress.

   Christi also persevered, and became almost _too_ enthusiastic.  When Jaime
and Holly came by, Christi would suggest they all smoke 'just one more'
before leaving, always for the sake of practice.  That was dumb.  Holly and
Jaime weren't practicing for anything, and Christi wasn't either.  Christi
and her two neighbors seemed to enter into the experience a bit too readily.

   But Megan didn't worry about that.  She liked having her roommate's
support, and liked being with Holly and Jaime.  She also had fun being with
Becki and Laurie.  By week's end, smoking ten a day no longer seemed so hard,
especially when those around her were smoking.

   Dr. Lowdermilk was pleased with her progress.  They were rehearsing every
night.  As her smoking coach, Chelsea insisted that Megan smoke during
rehearsals, so she did.  It became easier as time passed; she hardly had to
think about it.  On stage she just lit up and smoked during her monologues
and her classroom scenes.  Chelsea suggested that her character, Harriet's
sister, should smoke in their scene together in act three.  That was fine
with Dr. Lowdermilk.  So they practiced smoking together on stage in front of
their peers each time they did the third act.

   Despite her progress, with only one week left till opening night, Chelsea
told Megan she really had to pick up the pace even more.  She made Megan
increase her consumption to a pack a day the final week.  "After all,"
Chelsea reasoned.  "You need to _be_ Harriet Ginsburg.  Harriet Ginsburg
smoked all the time.  You can't enter into her character unless you smoke
like she did."

   So Megan did.  She didn't mind it so much, though it meant smoking twice
as many cigarettes each day till opening night.  It was hard to smoke twenty
a day.  It seemed like all she did was smoke.  She had two cigarettes first
thing each morning.  She smoked when she got back to her room between
classes, had five or six more at evening rehearsal, and smoked again with
Christi before bed.  But it still wasn't enough.  The first day she was
supposed to smoke a pack she only got up to fifteen cigarettes.  At that
point Christi came up with an innocent suggestion.

   "We have to start smoking outside the dorm."

   Megan was shocked.  Her roommate seemed way too enthusiastic about the
smoking thing.  "What in the hell do you mean by that?"

   "I mean, we should smoke while we walk to and from classes.  We should
smoke in the dining hall at meals.  There are lots of places we can smoke
besides our room."

   Megan frowned.  "Are you suggesting we sit in the smoking section in the
dining hall and smoke in public?"

   "Yeah, sure, why not?" Christi smiled.  She reached for another Marlboro
Light 100.  "It's just till the play.  For God's sake, Megan, no one will
care.  You, I mean, we, can quit after the play's over.  Who the hell cares?"
She lit up and took a significantly long drag, the kind of drag a real smoker
takes.  "There's no reason not to take advantage of every single opportunity
to smoke," she went on, expertly exhaling as she spoke to her roommate.

   "God, I don't know," Megan hesitated.  She too carelessly reached for a
cigarette.  "I mean, it's one thing to smoke in our room with Jaime and
Holly, or with Becki and Laurie.  But it's quite another to smoke in other
places around campus, like real smokers do."

   Christi laughed as she watched Megan light up.  "My God, Megan!  In the
play you _are_ a smoker.  If you smoke in public this week, it'll be great
practice.  You want to be as proficient as possible by next Friday night,
don't you?"

   Megan thoughtfully exhaled a stream of smoke.  "Yeah, I guess you're
right.  It's just that I'm nervous about people thinking I'm a smoker.
That's all.  Because I'm not a smoker, you know.  We're just practicing.
That's it."

   "Don't be stupid, Megan.  Until the play's over, you _are_ a smoker!"

   Megan manicured her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the desk.
"Yeah, I guess so," she sighed.  "But then we're quitting, right?  I mean, we
won't keep smoking, will we?"

   Christi made a face.  "What are you talking about?  Sure we'll quit.  Why
wouldn't we?"

   "I don't know.  Lately you seem to be enjoying smoking a lot more than you
did at first.  You seem to really like smoking now.  Am I right about that?"

   "Actually, yeah, I _do_ kind of like it, I guess," her roommate admitted
somewhat reluctantly.  She tilted her head and released a cloud of smoke into
the room's hazy air.  "My opinion's changed.  Smoking's not at all like I
thought it'd be.  Secondhand smoke used to smell yucky to me.  But smoking,
really smoking, and not just smelling other people's smoke, is nice."  She
giggled.  "Sometimes it seems _really_ nice to me!  Don't you think so?"

   It was Megan's turn to grin.  "I know what you mean.  I hated it at first.
But I don't anymore.  I guess I've just gotten used to it.  Yeah, smoking's
okay, I guess.  But I'm not sure I'd say I think it's really nice."

   Christi shrugged.  "Well, it doesn't matter.  For now, we have to do it.
We need you to get to the point where you can finish off an entire pack in a
day without even thinking about it.  So let's act like smokers for the next
week.  We'll smoke wherever we are.  We have English class together this
afternoon.  Let's light up after class and smoke together while we walk to
the union.  What do you say?  Are you game?"

   "I guess," Megan agreed.  She hit on her cigarette, pulling smoke into her
lungs again.  She hated to admit it, but Christi was right.  It did almost
seem nice now.  She sighed wistfully and watched exhaled smoke slowly dribble
out of her lips and nostrils.  "Yeah, okay, I need to do something to meet my
quota.  Sure, let's do it!"

   And they did.  That afternoon Megan and Christi took their cigarettes with
them to English.  After class, they lit up together outside the building and
smoked on their walk to the union.  Megan felt weird having a cigarette in
her hand.  She felt like everyone was staring at her.  But the truth was, no
one paid any attention.

   The roommates later deliberately sat in the smoking section in the dining
hall.  After dinner, they both lit up.  Each girl had two cigarettes with
coffee.  It seemed weird to Megan.  But no one noticed or cared.  Christi was
right.  People had their own shit to worry about.  They were far too busy to
pay any attention to two freshman girls smoking in public for the first time.

   Later they walked to rehearsal together and smoked again on the way.  It
was really quite easy to smoke more by simply incorporating smoking into
their other activities.  By the time she got back to the dorm that night,
Megan had almost reached her goal of twenty for the day.  With two final
cigarettes in her room before bed, she successfully met her quota for the
first time.

   "Wow!  I did it," she triumphantly proclaimed as she and Christi lit up
their last ones of the day.  "God, twenty!  Shit!  I never thought I could do
this.  But I sure did," she laughed, proudly exhaling a thick plume of smoke
through her smiling lips.  

   "And it wasn't that hard, either, was it?" Christi smiled.  "It seemed
completely natural to smoke doing other things.  This is a good thing, Megan.
It means it's becoming second-nature.  And that's the goal, isn't it?  I
mean, we want you to be able to smoke without thinking about it."

   "I guess it is," the frizzy haired freshman agreed.  She manicured her
cigarette in the ashtray.  "The more I smoke, the easier it is to smoke."
She hit again on her Marlboro Light 100.  "And I guess that's the point,
isn't it?  I'm supposed to smoke like Harriet did."  She paused and exhaled.
"I'm supposed to act like a real smoker."

   "And you seem just like one, too," Christi laughed flamboyantly.  "God,
it's getting to feel completely real, completely normal, to see you smoke all
the time.  Good work!"

   The next few days went the same.  Each morning the two roommates had a
couple cigarettes before leaving their room.  Megan smoked walking to her
first class, and again on her walk back to the dorm or to the union.  She'd
meet Christi, Holly and Jaime for lunch.  All four of them smoked after
eating.  She smoked while studying and walking to and from her afternoon
classes.  At dinner they sat in the smoking area and smoked again.  Evenings
were committed to rehearsals, and Megan smoked on stage and also during
breaks with the other cast members.  She maintained her pack a day routine
all week, and the more she smoked, the easier it got.  Christi was right, it
turned out.  It seemed to become more and more natural, almost normal, to
smoke.

   Thursday night was dress rehearsal.  It went well, and afterward Mick
caught Megan before she left.  He asked if they could go out for coffee
together.  She was nervous about the play, which was opening the next night.
She assumed Mick wanted to encourage her.

   Mick had been watching Megan carefully.  The pretty freshman's poise and
self-assurance on stage fascinated him.  The more he watched her perform as
Harriet Ginsburg in rehearsal, the more he was hooked.  For months he'd been
preoccupied with Chelsea Cook.  But now, for the first time, someone had
replaced her in his fantasies, and that someone was Megan.  Mick wanted to
feel her out about becoming more than just friends.  But to do that, he
decided to warn her about the real motives behind Chelsea's teaching
techniques.

   Megan and Mick settled in at a table in an off campus coffee shop.
Without thinking, Megan got out her Marlboro Lights 100's and lit up a
cigarette.  She did it so carelessly, and so naturally.  Mick had to smile.
Megan was indeed acting just like a smoker.  Mick likewise lit up.

   "Megan, there's something you should know," he began mysteriously.  "I
feel bad about it, but I have to tell you.  I hate to do this right before
opening night.  But I'm doing it anyway."

   Her wrist cocked, she held her cigarette beside her head.  Smoke swirled
around her face.  She wrinkled her brow.  "What's up, Mick?"

   He nervously dragged on his cigarette.  "It's Chelsea.  She's setting you
up."

   "What do you mean?  She's been really helpful these last few weeks."

   "I know you think that.  God, I feel guilty knowing and not telling you.
But here goes."  He proceeded to tell her of Chelsea's plan to push smoking
on her as much as possible, to get her irretrievably hooked on cigarettes.

   "That's what she's up to," he concluded.  You don't need to smoke so much
to play Harriet Ginsburg well.  It's Chelsea's revenge on you for getting her
part.  Long after this play's over, she figures you'll still be smoking,
because you won't be able to quit.  Just like her."

   Megan pensively drew on her Marlboro Light 100.  "I wondered.  I couldn't
figure why it was so damned important to smoke a pack a day just to prepare
for the role."  She casually tipped her head to release a stream of smoke.
"She thinks she's getting even?  Well, if she thinks I'm hooked, she's wrong.
As soon as the play's over, Christi and I are both quitting."  She frowned.
"But why tell me, Mick?  You're friends with Chelsea."

   He winced.  "I know.  But see, back when I was a freshman, Brenda got me
to start smoking.  We were dating, and she insisted I try it.  She gets a
sick, perverse pleasure out of sucking other people into her terrible habit.
After we broke up, I couldn't quit.  So I know how it is.  That's why I had
to warn you.  I care about you, Megan.  I really do."

   Megan smiled.  "God, that's sweet, Mick.  But I'm surprised you'd rat on
your friends."

   "I really like you, Megan.  You're a great actress, and a nice person.
You shouldn't be tricked into smoking.  If you smoke, it should be because
you want to do it, not because Brenda and Chelsea tricked you into it."

   Megan nodded reflectively.  She manicured her cigarette in the ashtray.
It was a helpful distraction to have while she organized her thoughts.  "I
see.  But tell me.  Do you wish _you_ could quit smoking, Mick?"

   The young man sighed.  "I don't know.  Some days I wish I could.  And then
there are other days," he added wistfully, his voice trailing off.  "I like
smoking, to be honest.  I like the taste of the smoke in my mouth when I
light up.  I like breathing it in and out of my lungs.  I know it's bad for
me.  And lots of people give me shit about smoking.  So, I don't know."

   Megan smiled.  "I understand.  Some kids in our dorm give us grief for
smoking.  But most people don't pay any attention to the fact that I'm
smoking around campus.  I'm still curious, though.  You didn't really answer.
Do you wish you could quit, or not?"

   He hesitated.  "It's a terrible habit.  But I guess if I really wanted to,
I'd quit.  So the fact that I'm still smoking must mean that I don't really
want to stop, at least not bad enough."

   "So you don't want to quit?"

   He looked down.  "I guess not.  I should want to, but I suppose I really
don't."

   She smiled kindheartedly.  "Well, don't worry about me, Mick.  You're a
sweetie to be concerned.  The play opens tomorrow.  We perform three times,
Friday night, Saturday night and a matinee Sunday.  I plan to quit after
that."  She took a last drag and crushed her cigarette in the ashtray.  "But
it's weird," she admitted, exhaling.  "At first I hated smoking.  I put up
with it, but I didn't like it.  But now, I don't know.  It's weird.  The last
few days, I've begun to feel that it's not so bad smoking.  You know what I
mean?"

   Mick nodded.  He understood.

   "Now I look forward to lighting up when I'm done with class, before
walking across campus, or when my friends Holly and Jaime come over to smoke.
I like the feeling of having a cigarette with coffee after a meal.  I wonder.
Does that mean I'm hooked already?"

   "I guess you won't know till you try to quit," Mick wryly observed.
"Brenda says addiction kicks in sometime after smoking 200 cigarettes.  I
suspect you reached that already."

   She smiled.  "Yeah, no kidding.  I smoked a pack a day all week.  That's
140.  I smoked half a pack a day the week before.  That's another 70.  Yeah,
I'm way beyond two hundred."

   "You might consider backing off," he suggested.  "You don't need to keep
smoking a pack a day.  Chelsea's just trying to suck you in."

   "I'll think about it, Mick.  And thanks for your concern."  She looked at
him and smiled again.  "Is that the _only_ reason you wanted to talk with
me?"

   He fidgeted.  "Honest?  No, it's not.  I like you, Megan.  There, I said
it.  I don't know if you're seeing anyone.  But if you're not, ...."  He
paused.  "I wonder if you'd like to go out sometime?  You know, maybe we
could be more than just friends."

   She grinned.  "I'd _very_ much like that, Mick."  She looked at her watch.
"Come on, let's go.  I need my beauty sleep.  Opening night's tomorrow.  I
have to be ready to be Harriet Ginsburg, the great feminist."

   He pulled her chair away from the table for her.  She nodded graciously
and they walked outside.  Under the streetlight, she turned and smiled again.
"I'm flattered you like me, Mick.  I like you, too."  She sidled closer, and
touched her lips to his.  They kissed, softly, and then more passionately for
a moment.

   The smell of smoke was strong on his breath as they kissed.  But she
didn't mind.  It wasn't at all gross; it was ... nice, surprisingly nice!  He
undoubtedly tasted the same aroma on her breath.  But he didn't seem
bothered, either.  He put his arms around her and they embraced for several
moments.  She put her hands on his ass and squeezed it.  He squealed with
delight.

   "Wow," he gasped, slowly pulling back.  "God, I didn't expect a kiss.  But
it was great."  He grinned.  "Megan, I think you are _so_ great!"

   She laughed.  "You're pretty great yourself, Mick.  Thank you for that.
But I need to go.  Maybe after the play's over ...."

   He nodded.  "Definitely.  Now go home and get your beauty sleep, Harriet!"

   As she walked off, Megan felt wonderful.  She grinned all the way back to
the dorm.  The prospect of having a boyfriend, particularly _this_ boyfriend,
energized her.  Without even realizing she did it, she opened her purse, got
her pack of Marlboro Lights 100's, and happily lit up another cigarette to
smoke as she returned to the dorm.

   The next day was Friday; and it was opening night for "Reckless."  Megan
was nervous.  It was her first main stage performance, and her first leading
role in college.  This was it, her chance to make a splash in the college
theater community.  She didn't want to blow it.

   First thing that morning she told Christi about Mick's revelation after
dress rehearsal, though she didn't mention the fact that they kissed.  Her
roommate was nonplused.

   "He might be messing with you.  Remember, he used to date Brenda, and he's
friends with Chelsea.  What if he's trying to get inside your head and mess
you up for opening night?"

   "But why would he do that?  He's on stage crew.  Why would he freak me out
and risk messing up the play on opening night?"

   "Who knows?" Christi shrugged.  "All I'm saying is, I wouldn't cut back.
I wouldn't slow down now if I were you.  The first performance is tonight.
Swear off smoking later if you want.  But I think it's risky to change your
approach this late in the game."

   Megan wasn't sure, but she decided to take Mick's advice rather than
Christi's.  Her roommate smoked her usual two cigarettes before leaving for
her morning class.  Megan didn't.

   She had Dr. Lowdermilk's Theater Performance at 9:00 a.m.  It was her
favorite class.  She always enjoyed it.  That day, though, she felt
distracted.  It was hard to concentrate.  She attributed her uneasiness to it
being the day of opening night.  But the class seemed to drag on forever.
When Dr. Lowdermilk finally dismissed the class, he asked Megan to stay
behind.

   "How are you feeling, Megan?  Ready to break a leg?"

   Megan smiled.  It was the traditional way to say 'good luck' in theater
parlance.

   "Yeah, I am.  I thought we did fine in dress rehearsal last night.  I just
hope it doesn't mean opening night will be a disaster."

   "I know," Dr. Lowdermilk laughed.  "Sometimes a lousy dress rehearsal
means a great opening night, and vice versa.  But you guys will do fine.  The
theater's sold out; no tickets at the door.  The fact that Harriet Ginsburg
is still something of an icon here on campus is responsible; that, and we
have a fine cast," he added with a gentle laugh.

   "What exactly do you mean about her being an icon here?"

   "I thought you knew.  Harriet taught here as a visiting professor back in
1994.  She was incredibly popular on campus, with students and faculty alike.
I considered it an honor to meet her.  Harriet still visits when she finds an
excuse to come to this part of the country.  That's one reason I wanted to do
'Reckless' as our spring play.  Almost every faculty member will show up.
They all remember Harriet fondly."

   "Wow," Megan exclaimed.  "I never knew Harriet Ginsburg was a visiting
professor here.  I mean, everyone's heard of her.  She's as well known as
Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan."  She paused.  "So, you actually met
Harriet?  How am I doing, playing her in the show?  Really?"

   Dr. Lowdermilk smiled.  "Really?  You're doing great.  You capture her New
York accent and even her mannerisms.  The way we fix your hair, and the
glasses, it's scary.  You could almost _be_ a younger version of Harriet
Ginsburg.  You should know; you've seen the PSB video.  You've got her down
pat, Megan."

   Megan blushed.  "That's encouraging, Doc.  But let me ask a question.
This smoking thing has been such a big deal in this play.  I'm curious.  Does
Harriet Ginsburg still smoke?"

   Dr. Lowdermilk laughed.  "I think she quit years ago.  I don't remember
her smoking during the year she was a visiting professor.  But that doesn't
matter, Megan.  The reason I have you smoke in the show is to convey the mood
of the late sixties.  Harriet smoked then.  Everyone did.  That's what I'm
trying to get across.  By the way, I should compliment you.  You're doing a
great job smoking on stage.  I know you were nervous at first.  But like
everything else you've done, you manage it like a pro.  Tonight will be a
great success.  I'm sure of it."

   "Thanks, Doc," she smiled.  "I have to admit I'm nervous as hell."

   He looked over the top of his reading glasses.  "You _do_ seem a bit off
this morning, Megan.  You seemed distracted during class.  I tell you what.
Do something different.  Take your mind off the play.  Do something fun."  He
winked.  "You might consider cutting your afternoon classes.  Relax.  I want
you in top form this evening."

   It was Megan's turn to laugh.  "I just might, Doc.  Thanks."

   Walking across campus, she thought about what Dr. Lowdermilk said.  He was
right.  She _did_ feel funny, and it wasn't the usual pre-performance
jitters, either.  She experienced those many times in high school.  No, this
was different.  But she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was that
was causing her anxiety.

   She went to the student union to check her mail box.  Nothing there.  The
weather was lovely, so she headed across the quadrangle to her dorm on the
other side of the campus.

   It was the first time all week that she hadn't immediately lit up on her
cross-campus trek, she realized.  She didn't think she missed smoking while
she walked around.  Or did she?  She wasn't sure.  But suddenly, it was the
only thing she could think about.

   Reaching the dorm, she took the stairs two at a time to reach her room.
She dropped her books on her bed and stared at her desk.  There sat a pack of
Marlboro Lights 100's and a lighter.  She kept looking.  All she could think
of was shaking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth.

   "This is insane," she told herself out loud.  "I'm _not_ hooked on these.
Mick's wrong.  It hasn't happened yet.  And I am _not_ going to light up a
cigarette right now."

   She turned on a CD and looked at her Econ book for her afternoon class,
temporarily forgetting about the idea of cutting.  But her eyes kept
returning to the pack on the desk.  A struggle raged inside her mind.  She
wanted to smoke.  There was no doubt.  But she didn't _have_ to anymore.  She
knew that.  So why did she feel this way?

   "Shit," she muttered to herself.  "Shit!  What in the hell is happening to
me?"

   Her deliberations were interrupted by a knock on the door.  It was Jaime,
her neighbor.

   "Hi, Megan," Jaime said in her Tennessee drawl.  The lovely freshman was a
Nashville native, and her pretty brunette visage lit up the room.  "I thought
I heard you in he-ah.  Do you want to practice a little before lunch?  You
know?"  She wiggled her fingers and put them to her lips and giggled.

   Megan looked at her visitor.  "Oh, hi, Jaime.  Yeah, actually, I was just
thinking about practicing, I mean, having a cigarette.  I suppose you want to
join me?"

   "Well, that's why ah'm he-ah," the petite southern belle grinned broadly.

   Jaime knew nothing of her decision not to smoke again till the
performance, and Christi, who did know, wouldn't be back in the room till
noon.  Jaime expected her to be smoking as usual.  And Megan _wanted_ to
smoke.  She decided to act as if nothing had changed.

   She reached for the pack on the desk and shook out a cigarette.  She
passed it to Jaime, who did likewise.  They'd been through this many times in
the last two weeks.  But this time Megan's heart beat like a drum inside her
chest.

   She clicked her lighter.  Her fingers trembled slightly.  After directing
the flame to the tip of the Marlboro Light 100 in her mouth, she collapsed
her cheeks and drew hard, impatiently, pulling lots of smoke into her mouth.
Eager to get it down into her lungs as fast as possible, she gulped before
she was done, and thus inadvertently performed a double-pump, causing smoke
to flow from her nostrils in twin streams while she finished her drag.

   Jaime was surprised.  "Wow, now _that's_ a new one," she said admiringly.
"How long have you been doing that thing?  The smoke came out of your nose.
It was cool!"

   Megan blushed.  "I didn't mean to," she said, somewhat embarrassed.  "I
guess I was just kind of eager to smoke."  As she explained, smoke came from
her mouth with her words.

   "And you've never done _that_ before, either.  You know what?  It looks
neat!"

   Megan blushed once more.  "It _was_ sort of neat, wasn't it?  I wonder if
I should try doing that on stage during the performance tonight?  It'd make
me look more like a smoker."

   "If I were you, I would, honey," Jaime gushed.  "It looked really great,
really cool!"

   Megan took another long drag and sucked the smoke inside.  She breathed in
as deep as she could to fill her body with smoke, and her breasts rose in
response to the inhale.  She liked all the sensations associated with smoking
her first cigarette of the day.  Once again she began speaking before
exhaling, and once more the smoke burst from her lips as she talked.

   "Maybe I will do it tonight.  After all, the point of this exercise is
making people believe I _am_ Harriet Ginsburg, isn't it?"

   Jaime laughed.  It was the soft, sweet laugh of a cultured southerner.
"My Gawd, Megan, it certainly does look bona fide!  I really think you should
try it tonight.  I'm serious."

   They smoked together for several minutes.  Megan was amazed by her
reaction to the nicotine after having abstained all morning.  The lift was
palpable, and the relief remarkable.  Did it mean she was addicted?  She
didn't know.  She said nothing of her concern to Jaime.  She only knew it
felt really good to smoke again, and it seemed especially nice to be smoking
with her neighbor.  Perhaps it wasn't the best time to try cutting back, she
decided, what with the first performance coming up in only a few more hours.

   After she finished her cigarette, she didn't feel done.  Impulsively, she
decided to have a second one right away.  As she took a fresh cigarette from
the pack, she asked Jaime if she wanted another one, too, and proffered the
pack with a smile.

   Her neighbor grinned and graciously accepted a second cigarette.  "Ah'd
_love_ another, Megan.  Oh mah Gawd, it seems wonderfully decadent to smoke
two in row!  But I'm glad you suggested it.  This is nice!"

   "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Megan smiled.  She lit up again, this time
intentionally doing an initial double-pump.  She then let her cigarette
dangle from her lips while slowly setting her lighter down on the desk.
Raising her fingers to her mouth in "V" formation, she dragged again while
closing her digits around the cigarette.  Finally she removed it from her
lips.  "This sort of takes it to the next level of believability, don't you
think?"

   Jaime nodded ardently.  She, too, tried doing a double-pump.  "Well, it
looks mighty good, Megan.  But it also feels awful nice," she sighed
contentedly.  "It kinda like fills my whole head and nose and sinuses with
smoke when I do it.  I kinda like it."

   Megan tipped her head to release a mixed mouth and nostril exhale.  Yes,
it _did_ feel good.  Damn good!  In fact, the whole experience of smoking at
that moment somehow felt different.  Never before had she felt such a need to
smoke.  Well, perhaps it wasn't exactly a need, but it was a real desire, a
yearning, stronger than anything she'd ever experienced.

   They finished their second cigarettes, and Jaime went back to her room.
Megan felt _much_ better.  Her disquietude was gone.  She was at peace again.
She knew smoking was the reason why.  But it didn't matter.  She was just
glad to feel normal again.  She could still quit after the play was over.
Maybe it'd be a little harder than she originally thought, but that didn't
matter.  She'd still be able to stop any time, she assured herself.

   At noon Christi returned from class.  She and Megan left to got to lunch
with Jaime and Holly as usual.  Christi noticed the smell of fresh smoke in
their room, so she asked Megan what had happened to her decision not to smoke
until the performance that night.

   "Well, you know what?  I thought about it some more.  I just felt it isn't
a good time to cut back after all," she rationalized.  "I need to smoke
tonight in the play.  I wanted to make sure I could still do it right.  I can
quit - I mean, _we_ can - on Sunday after the last performance.  Till then, I
think it's better for me to keep smoking, at least a little.  Just to keep
myself tuned up."

   Christi nodded and smiled.  That was fine with her.  Reaching the dining
hall, the four freshman again sat in the smoking section.  All during lunch
Megan looked forward to lighting up another cigarette, and just as soon as
she was done eating, she and the other girls got out their cigarettes and
smoked together.  She again found it extremely pleasant, more than usual.
Perhaps it was because she'd only had one so far that day.  But she took the
opportunity to show off her new double-pump routine, as well as her talking
exhales.  All her friends agreed it made her look much more like the
committed smoker Harriet Ginsburg must have been in the sixties.

   After lunch Megan felt better, and she decided not to skip her afternoon
classes after all.  If she cut, she'd just worry about the upcoming
performance anyway.  She had a class at two and another at three.  At four
she left the academic building where her Econ class was held.  She had two
and a half hours to kill until she had to be at the theater for makeup.

   Late Friday afternoons on campus were dead.  It was too early to party,
but no one wanted to study with a weekend coming.  Megan returned to her
dorm, hoping to distract herself in order to avoid thinking about the show.
Christi was gone, and Jaime and Holly weren't in their room either.  She
turned on a CD and vainly tried to read the next chapter in her Econ book for
her Monday class.

   She liked the music, but she again felt fidgety.  And this time she knew
why.  An ashtray was on the corner of her desk, and over and over her eyes
returned to it.  It was full of butts.  But instead of seeming nasty; the
sight of an overflowing ashtray was strangely provocative.  She sighed.  God,
she wanted another cigarette so much!  She knew ignoring the raging desire
would prove futile.  The more she tried to not think about smoking, the more
her preoccupation grew.

   She stood and paced.  She looked at the clock.  It was only five.  She'd
go to dinner at five thirty to be at the theater by six thirty.  In the
meantime, she felt completely preoccupied.  It was no use.  She _had_ to have
a cigarette.  She thought about waiting for Christi, but decided not to.  She
didn't want to wait; she wanted one right away.  She picked up the half empty
pack of Marlboro Lights 100's, sighed, and put one in her mouth.  She clicked
her lighter and, with some reservation, finally lit up.

   Automatically she did a double-pump; a really powerful one, too.  It
looked authentic, but that wasn't why she did it.  It was because she wanted
smoke!  God, she _really_ wanted smoke!   And it felt good, so very good.
She madly attacked the burning cigarette.  It was giving her the one thing
she desperately required - nicotine!

   And at that moment, it finally hit her.  She _was_ a smoker!  Yeah, no
doubt.  No longer was she just practicing for the sake of her role in the
play.  No, she was doing this because she wanted smoke, and lots of it, too.
Or maybe it was nicotine she wanted.  She didn't know, but she didn't have
time to worry about it.  She was too busy repeatedly pulling the luscious
smoke deep down into her famished lungs, and savoring the wonderful relief
the nicotine gave her.

   After a few puffs she felt better.  It brought her back to normal,
whatever that meant now.  Maybe it'd become "normal" to have nicotine in her
system.  She watched tendrils of smoke slowly ascend from the burning tip of
the long, white cylinder between her index and middle fingers.  With a smile
she raised it to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the white filter.  She
dragged, and saw the cherry end burn bright in response.  Her fingers closed
around the cigarette in a "V" and she took it from her mouth while breathing
in, deeply and forcefully.  More smoke hit her lungs, and the absorption
process began all over again.  She felt the internal tingle of satisfaction
she'd come to expect, want and appreciate from a cigarette.  She pursed her
lips and slowly, reluctantly, exhaled a thin stream of the silky substance.

   God, it's true!  I'm a smoker, she mused.  And Chelsea finally got her
revenge!  But the realization didn't depress her.  She sighed.  I guess it's
because I like it, she told herself.  I mean, I like doing this.  Damn, I
_really_ like it!  Whether good or bad, she didn't know.  At that moment, all
she knew was, this was going to be awfully hard to give up!

   Christi returned to the room at five thirty.  Megan was sitting in her
desk chair staring out the third floor window overlooking the campus.  And
she was smoking.

   "You said you were going to smoke less today," she wryly remarked.  "I
thought you weren't going to smoke so much after talking to Mick last night."

   Megan turned her curly head and looked at Christi.  "It's too late," she
sighed.  "When I got back from Econ this afternoon, I wanted a cigarette _so_
bad.  I just _had_ to have one.  Chelsea won.  She got me.  I _am_ a smoker
now.  I don't know if I'm addicted.  But if I try to not smoke, I mean, when
I don't smoke, I feel miserable!"

   Christi looked at the ashtray.  It was much fuller than when she left.

   "So, that's it?  You've just been sitting here smoking since four
o'clock?"

   "Well, not the whole time," Megan waffled.  "But yeah, I've had four
cigarettes since coming back from class."  She looked at the ashtray with an
embarrassed smile.  "Maybe five."

   Christi took her own pack of Marlboro Lights 100's from her purse.  With a
smile she put one in her mouth and lit up to join her roommate.

   "Megan, I'm amazed," she said.  Her cigarette dangled as she sat on her
bed looking at her roommate.  "Didn't you see this coming?  It was so
obvious!"

   "What do you mean?"

   Christi took a long drag and inhaled.  She took the cigarette from her
lips and continued to talk.  "You finally realized you're a smoker.  But my
God!  Despite all the idealistic talk about quitting once the play ended, did
you ever really think that all this smoking was just a temporary phenomenon?"
She turned her head to exhale.

   Megan shrugged.  "I don't know," she whined.  "I never thought about it, I
guess.  I thought we were just practicing.  I always figured I'd just quit
after the play.  And I still might."

   Christi let out a harsh laugh, and manicured her cigarette in the ashtray.
"For awhile I've known that our plan to quit would never happen.  I've seen
in coming for several days.  And I'm not the only one.  Today Holly told me
she's buying her own cigarettes.  I think Jaime is, too.  If not, she will be
soon.  And so will I.  See, Megan, I don't _want_ to quit.  None of us do.
Ever."

   "Oh my God!  When did _this_ change take place?"

   "A few days ago," Christi admitted.  "In the beginning I smoked to be
accepted by the theater group.  Oh, I wanted to be there for you, too, for
moral support.  But then it started to change.  I started to look forward to
smoking.  Instead of feeling bad about smoking, it was _not_ smoking that
made me feel like shit.  Or incomplete.  Or something."  She shrugged and
dragged again.  "I love smoking while walking around campus or sitting in the
dining hall.  Yesterday I decided that even if you still want to quit when
the play's over, I want to keep smoking."  She paused to exhale.  "Boy, my
parents will go ape when they find out!"

   Megan startled.  "Oh God!  I almost forgot.  My parents are coming here
for opening night!"  She looked at the cigarette between her fingers.  "Mom
and Dad will pee their pants if they find out I'm smoking in real life."

   "Relax.  For now you have a perfect excuse.  You're still just practicing
for the play."

   "But they'll want to come up to our room," Megan moaned.  "One sniff and
they'll know we've been constantly smoking in here.  Oh God, what am I going
to do?"

   Christi shrugged.  "Just tell 'em I smoke.  Don't admit anything, if you
don't want to.  Anyway, maybe you _will_ be able to quit once the play's
over.  Who knows?"

   Megan raised her hand to her mouth, put her shrinking cigarette between
her lips, and sucked hard.  "I don't know," she muttered as she inhaled.
"God damn that Chelsea!  I never wanted to become a smoker."  Tears formed in
her eyes as she exhaled another thin stream of smoke through trembling lips.

   "No time to worry about it now," Christi said, interrupting her roommate's
melodramatic moment.  "It's six o'clock.  If we don't get to the dining hall
pronto, you won't be at the theater for makeup at six thirty."  She smiled.
"Don't worry.  It'll sort out eventually.  Let's go eat."

   Christi hit her cigarette one last time and crushed it in the ashtray.
Megan did the same, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes and heading for
the door.

   "Aren't you forgetting something?" Christi asked.

   "What's that?"

   Christi tossed an unopened pack of Marlboro Lights 100's to her roommate
in the doorway.  "You'll need these," she whispered.  "At the play, and
probably at dinner, too."

   Megan nodded and dropped the pack into her purse.  "I'm afraid you're
right, Christi."

   "I'm definitely right," she said as she locked the door.  "Tonight you're
still a smoker, whether you're Harriet Ginsburg or Megan Ware."

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