Quit Smoking Diary, Part 6

Author's note:  The following story is satire, and is not intended to, in
any sense, imply that people should not quit smoking, or that people should
intentionally sabotage the attempts of others to quit.  As the surgeon
general so wisely advises, "Quitting smoking now greatly reduces serious
risks to your health."

The author does not necessarily condone the use of tobacco, nor hypnosis
under false pretenses, nor participation in lesbian sex, , nor masturbation,
nor any other morally questionable practice depicted in the story.  

Later parts of the story contain graphic sexual language, and are not
suitable for underage readers.  

Any resemblance to smoking fetish fiction is purely accidental.  

"My Quit Smoking Diary"
Part 6 

Entry 11:

My name is Jennifer Morgan, and I love cigarettes! I also now love cigars.
Emily and I have been pretty much smoking all day long (and all night long!)
for a couple of days now, giving our lungs a rest only when we sleep, shower,
and most of the time while we're eating. I am a nicotine addict, but a very
willing and happy one, and I never intend to quit smoking again. 

Quite a lot has happened over the past 48 hours, and I've been struggling to
understand it all, which is what prompted me to begin writing in my journal
again. Although Dr. Monroe won't be helping me to quit smoking anymore,
perhaps she can help me to understand some of the feelings I've been having
about Emily, and the interesting turn my sexuality took yesterday afternoon.
None of this probably makes sense, so maybe I should start at the beginning,
and just write down a factual account about what happened, instead of getting
ahead of myself in the story.

After writing my last entry yesterday morning, I called Dr. Monroe. I was
almost in tears from my cravings, and from feelings of guilt because I knew
that I couldn't quit. I expected her to be disappointed, since she had put
so much time and effort into helping me, but instead, she was extremely
supportive. 

She told me that, from the beginning, this hadn't been about me quitting
smoking. Rather, it had been about helping me to make a decision about
whether or not I really wanted to be a smoker. I should not see my starting
up again as a failure, but rather as a success, since I now had the
experience of being an ex-smoker, and was more informed about what it was
like not to smoke. While on the boat, I had completed the first stage of my
voyage of self-discovery, and I was about to embark on a new journey of
self-understanding. I don't think she knew how true this would turn out to
be.

At one point in our discussion, she asked me if I could hold, since she had
another call, and I remember thinking that the very next time I ever had to
wait while talking on the phone, I would definitely have a cigarette in my
hand to keep me company. Dr. Monroe came back on the other line a couple of
minutes later, and apologized for making me wait. She said that her sister
had called to ask for some help with something. I told her that I totally
understood, and that her sister was lucky to have someone like her to turn to
for advice.

Returning to our discussion, Dr. Monroe asked me if I was still using the
patch and gum, and I told her no, joking that they felt more like some sort
of "keep smoking" patch and gum, since it seemed like my cravings greatly
increased rather than decreased with them. At this, she laughed in her gentle
way, and advised me to keep using both of them until I got off the ship,
adding that my intensified desire to smoke when I used them was probably just
in my mind. I admitted that she knew best, and put on the patch right away
before chewing some more of the gum. 

Finally, she asked me to email her my last journal entry, and to keep writing
throughout my trip, so that I can better understand the reasons behind my
decision, and gain "the serenity to accept the things that I cannot
change." I agreed to her request, and thanked her once again for all of her
concern. Then, reluctantly, we said goodbye.

I packed all of my things, which didn't take very long, since I had only
unpacked a little bit, and then waited for Emily's call, since our plan was
for her to call once she had woken up. Although recently my desire to smoke
had been a little bit less, since I got off the phone with Dr. Monroe my
cravings had returned with a vengeance, perhaps because it was getting closer
and closer to the time when I would finally be able to satisfy them. The
clock seemed to move in slow motion as the time to check out got closer.

Finally, the phone rang, and I answered it before it stopped ringing. Emily
was ready, and the ship would be in port in about 15 minutes! I swiftly
grabbed my two suitcases, and rushed out the door, not bothering to look
back.

Emily, as with last night, was dressed very stylishly, one might even say
glamorously, in a revealing white dress, again with matching gloves and
shoes. Seeing me, she gave me a kiss on both cheeks, and walked with me to
the elevator. We went up to where we had to check out, giving the clerk no
reason other than that we had decided to travel on our own apart from the
cruise. Before we knew it, all of the arrangements were finished, and we were
rushing, arm in arm like old and good friends, down the gangplank to leave
the ship forever.

I don't want to bore myself with writing down all of the details of the
journey to the hotel room that Emily had arranged for us. It is enough to say
that there was a cab waiting for us, and we took a short drive that seemed to
me to last forever. On the way Emily, despite what must have been horrible
cravings that she was also experiencing, massaged my neck and shoulders,
whispering in my ear the whole way that we were almost there.

We checked in fairly quickly, and Emily asked for and received the package
that was waiting for her at the front desk. Because the elevator was taking
forever, we decided to go up the six flights of stairs that led to our room.
At this point, we were eager to get to our room, so, lugging our heavy
suitcases along with us, we practically ran up the steps that each led to
what we needed so badly. Emily arrived first, not even breathing heavily,
while I was gasping for breath after the exertion. We threw our things on the
floor, and suddenly, we were ready to smoke again.

While I ripped off my patch and spit out my gum, Emily tore open the package,
which contained several cartons of cigarettes, along with a box of cigars and
another box. Then, she opened one of the cartons, removed a very long pack of
cigs, and then tore that open too. My own hands would have been fumbling
unsteadily through all of these tasks, but hers worked quickly and
efficiently. 

Finally, she removed two very long, all white cigarettes from the pack, and
gave one to me. I took it eagerly, and put it exactly in the middle of my
mouth. It was both much longer than even a 120 cigarette, and much heavier
besides. Also, I could tell right away from its smell that it was the menthol
variety of cigarette that I preferred.

For a split second, I panicked, because I realized that I didn't have a
lighter, but fortunately Emily had one ready in her purse. She had thought of
everything! She clicked it, and we both lit up from the flame at the same
time.

There are certain moments in our lives where everything suddenly changes, for
better or for worse, and we are left to contemplate their significance in the
quiet moments when we reflect on such things. I am certain that smoking that
first cigarette with Emily was one of those points in my own life. 

I was still out of breath from the run up the stairs, but as the first
molecule of delicious, minty smoke hit my tongue, I willed myself to keep
dragging on the cigarette. When I couldn't take anymore, I breathed just a
little bit of it in, making room in my mouth for me to pull in more smoke. I
kept doing that until my lungs were fully expanded and filled to capacity.
Emily was doing exactly the same thing.

Amazingly, I could feel my lungs absorbing the cool mentholated smoke, and
could physically feel the tingling sensation of it as it traveled through my
body. As I held the smoke deep inside, I suddenly felt the buzz of it as it
entered my brain, and in an instant all of the anxiety and confusion melted
away, replaced by a profound sense of well-being and alertness. I experienced
the sensation of light-headedness I loved when I first started smoking, only
more intense. Much more intense. 

My lips parted in a wide, blissful smile, and I exhaled the remnants of the
smoke quickly, wanting to totally empty my lungs so I could breathe in a
second large dose of nicotine. The first puff felt so good that I just wanted
to keep doing it, and so I pumped my lungs full of smoke for a second time.
While I held the smoke and felt its effects like electricity throughout my
body, I laid down on my back on the bed in the middle of the room. Emily lay
down next to me, before we each exhaled and began the process anew.

Each time I took in the thick smoke felt more incredibly good than the
previous time, and so I just kept taking long, hard drags, and sucking them
down as deep as they would go. The ashes from the end of my cigarette kept
falling on my chest while I smoked with ever increasing fervor. I don't
think I could have stopped inhaling that wonderful smoke, even if I wanted
to.

In my delight at smoking again, I had almost forgotten that Emily was still
with me, until she turned over on her side, and began lightly brushing the
ashes off of my chest. I looked over at her, and she was staring into my eyes
intently, and my gaze met hers as she took a final forceful drag on her cig
and inhaled. She continued touching my chest as she took out two more
cigarettes and lit one of them from the end of her last one. The other
cigarette she handed to me, as she exhaled a long stream of smoke towards my
breasts.

As I also lit a new cigarette from the end of my last one, Emily gave me a
smile whose meaning I did not need to decipher, and I felt a new yearning
arise within me, complimenting rather than competing with my still
unsatisfied desire for more smoke. I experienced another one of those
life-altering moments that I mentioned earlier.

Although I had never before been with another woman sexually, I felt no
hesitation about returning Emily's inviting smile. With my free hand I
pressed hers more firmly onto my chest, as it rose upward with my inhale. She
smiled even more provocatively, and began gently squeezing my left breast.

We had spoken no words since we had gleefully resumed our nicotine habits;
our only communication had been the sounds of deep breathing, as we inhaled
and exhaled our smoke. It seemed like the right time to break this near
silence.

"Keep doing that. It feels good," I whispered, little puffs of smoke
escaping my lips as I spoke softly into her ear.

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