Secret Identity, Part 3

    This fictional account contains adult language and themes. If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by
SSTORYMAN. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story
in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no
financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person
reproducing it.

    SECRET IDENTITY

    3. The Trap.

    Claire's alarm went off. It was dark. She rolled over and looked at the
clock through bloodshot eyes. Five o'clock. She stretched to hit the snooze
button, but when she moved, she felt pain in her head. God, she felt terrible.
She was hung over. Badly hung over! And she had to get ready for work. She had
to do rounds at the hospital and get to the office by eight for her first
appointment. Ideally, she'd arrive even earlier since she'd been gone for
several days.

    "Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit!"

    Despite the surging pain in her head, Claire forced a smile as she thought
about this involuntary comment. Never in her life had she used that kind of
language before, but after last night it seemed strangely natural. Things had
changed. She was becoming a new woman. That language was part of Claire's new
persona. She'd talked like that all night last night. Oh, God! Last night! She
rubbed her head and smiled again as she rolled out of bed.

    Popping two Extra Strength Tylenol at the bathroom sink, she stumbled into
the shower, allowing steam and warm water to caress her naked body. It felt
good. She tried to remember all that had happened last night. The haircut, the
hair coloring, the shopping, the two cigarettes with Maya at Denny's; those
things she remembered fine. Her memories from the bar with the other two girls
were a bit fuzzier.

    She soaped and tried to think. She'd started out drinking lite beer, but
quickly switched to hard liquor when the other girls did. What were their
names? Oh, yeah. Angela Palmer and Leigh Steiner. They were nice. Claire
smiled. Actually, they weren't nice at all. They were pleasant to spend time
with, but they were both hell-raisers. They were bad girls, the kind Claire
wanted to become. And God, could they ever drink!

    She rinsed off, stopping to stroke her breasts a bit longer than
necessary. It felt good! Last night she'd been sexually charged all night.
There was something exciting about drinking, smoking and hanging out with
Maya's friends. It was exciting in a sexual way, even though none of them
actually wound up with a guy. There'd been plenty of flirting, but no tangible
results. Washing off the soap from her breasts, she put her head under the
shower-head and let water flow over her entire body as she fondled herself.
More wetness emerged inside her vagina, but this had nothing to do with the
shower. She smiled. She wished she had time to work on this.

    She remembered switching to vodka and tonics after a couple beers. God,
how many drinks had she had? It was no use. She couldn't remember. The other
three girls held their liquor better than she did. She remembered laughing a
lot last night. She'd been really drunk!

    And she'd smoked! God, did she smoke! It wasn't surprising that her throat
and mouth were dry as sandpaper this morning. How many cigarettes? She tried
to count. "Let's see," she said aloud, trying to recall. She smoked one
cigarette with Maya at Denny's, quickly followed by a second. Without
thinking, she smiled and rubbed her breasts. God, smoking cigarettes had
seemed so delightfully risqué, and it had tasted so good, too! From the very
start, the flavor and taste of tobacco were surprisingly pleasant! After
Denny's, she and Maya met Angie and Leigh at the bar. There she'd smoked much
more than she intended, mostly because the other three girls all smoked
constantly. She didn't want to seem like a goody-goody. She tried her best to
smoke whenever they did. She couldn't keep up, but thought she did a pretty
decent job for a novice. As the night progressed, it became surprisingly easy
to keep up with them. It began to seem natural, almost routine, to light up a
cigarette of her own when one of the other girls lit up. Especially after
she'd had a few drinks! Of course, she had no cigarettes of her own, so she
smoked Maya's all night. What was that phrase Leigh used? "Bumming." That's
what she called it. "Bumming smokes." Claire smiled. By the end of the night,
she must have bummed at least half a dozen cigarettes!

    She finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Droplets
of liquid trickled from her skin as she reached for her towel. She laughed at
herself while she toweled off. She remembered something. Half way through the
evening, after several gin and tonics, she'd started inhaling. It wasn't
difficult; in fact, it became natural after awhile. Those other girls sucked
the smoke deep into their lungs every time they took a drag. She just mimicked
their style. She didn't remember coughing. Yeah, the night went pretty well,
except that she felt like shit now.

    Before putting on her glasses, Claire pulled a plain gray dress and white
button down shirt from her closet. She put on her bra and panties and looked
at herself in the mirror. For the first time that morning, she saw her new
look, especially the style and color of her long, curly hair. It was drying
fluffy, like Maya promised. She liked it. The color was flattering. She also
liked the posts in her ears. Soon those posts would be replaced by glamorous
earrings. She sighed. "Okay, Supergirl, time to change back into boring Linda
Lee again," she told the girl in the mirror, referring to the secret identity
of D.C. Comics' female caped crusader from Krypton. 

    She picked up her glasses, pulled her hair back, and stared again. She
looked different. "Hi, Linda Lee," she smirked. "You look dull today. But I
know your secret identity. I saw you in action last night. You were great! In
fact, you were super-bad!"

    As a girl, Claire loved Supergirl. She dreamed about changing into
Supergirl and saving the world. Now a different secret identity had taken
shape, one that was delicious, much more so than foolish little girl dreams.
She had a real secret identity, the evil Claire, the siren who smoked like a
chimney, drank like a fish, and cursed like a sailor. The evil Claire knew how
to have fun, and she did have fun. She was totally different from the old
Claire. She grinned as she put on her plain gray skirt. "Welcome back, Linda
Lee," she sighed. "Time to face the world!"

    In the garage, she opened her car door. She was immediately hit by an
overpowering smell of stale cigarette smoke. God! Someone smoked in her car.
Four cigarette butts sat in the ashtray. Stray ashes covered the floor. Maya,
she quickly concluded. She must have let Maya to smoke in the Lexus while she
drove her home. Shit! Well, there was nothing to do about it right now. She
quickly emptied the ashtray in the kitchen trash and returned to the car. She
glanced at her watch. She had time for breakfast at McDonald's before hitting
the hospital. She looked in the rear view mirror. The eyes were bloodshot, but
not bad. She turned the ignition, and left for work.

    "How was your visit home, Claire?" Dr. Roger Cummins asked. He was the
senior doctor in their medical practice. Claire stood in the lab, having just
seen her last patient of the morning. She wore her glasses. Her hair was
pulled back behind her head. Roger leaned against the overstuffed chair in the
lab where patients had their blood drawn, awaiting her answer.

    "It was okay," Claire sighed. She frowned. "Actually, it was a bitch," she
admitted. "There's no way to get used to your parents dying. It wasn't right.
They were both young and in good health. They kept the rules, you know, clean
living and exercise. It seems ... so unfair. It makes you wonder if it really
matters whether you take care of yourself or not."

    "I understand," Roger nodded. "It's tough." He looked closely at his
colleague. "I like your new hair color," he smiled. "It looks good. Did you
have that done while you were home?"

    "No," Claire blushed. "I got my hair done yesterday. I was ready to try
something different. You know, a new Claire," she said with a wicked grin. If
only he knew how new!

    "Well, it looks good," Roger repeated. He stared at her for several
moments. It was as if he wanted to say something. "Earrings, too," he finally
added. But Claire knew that wasn't what was on his mind.

    "Yeah, I got my ears pierced when I went home," she lied. "My sisters have
pierced ears. I hope you don't mind the new look. I'm trying to keep it
subdued."

    "Not at all," Roger protested. His gray hair made him look older than he
was. He smiled. It was a pregnant smile. "Maybe sometime you and I can have
dinner. You can tell me all about the funeral."

    "I'd like that," Claire lied. In fact, she felt nervous around Roger.
Despite being married, he was a lecher. He'd had a notorious tempestuous
affair with one of the pretty young nurses in the office last summer. There
were whisperings among the staff that he'd approached more than one of the
other nurses seeking sexual involvement. He'd never tried anything with
Claire, other than to occasionally brush up against her unnecessarily in the
hall. But she kept her distance.

    "Go home as early as possible today," Roger offered. "Don't stay to catch
up on paperwork. It'll be here tomorrow. Your eyes look red, like you've been
crying." He put his hand on her shoulder. It was a fatherly gesture - almost.
"Take it easy, Claire. Take care."

    "Thanks, Rog," she smiled. He gave her a brief hug, clasped her hand in
what passed for sympathy, and walked out of the lab. He seemed unusually
interested in her well-being. Claire smiled. Maybe her secret identity was
showing through.

    In truth, she didn't want to stay late. She wanted to call Maya too see
about going out again tonight. She remembered discussing it last night. But
her memory wasn't terribly clear.

    Roger stuck his head back in the lab. "Look, do you want to grab some
lunch? We could run across the street and you could tell me more about your
visit home."

    "No thanks," she smiled. "I've got a few phone calls to make. I'll take a
rain check."

    "Okay," Roger replied. He put his hands on the lapels of his white coat
and smiled. "Your hair really looks great," he added almost involuntarily.

    Claire politely smiled back. "I'm going to duck into my office for the
lunch hour. I've got some cheese and crackers to eat. I'll see you later,
Rog."

    With her office door closed, Claire reached for the phone book. She looked
up the number of Maya's salon. Maya was going in at ten. She worked through
lunch. She'd be there. She looked at her watch. If she was lucky, she'd catch
Maya between appointments.

    The receptionist connected Claire with Maya's line. "Hello?" came the
reply.

    "Maya?" Claire said eagerly. "This is Claire. Hey, thanks for letting me
join you last night. I had a ball. But listen. Is there any chance I could go
with you girls again tonight?"

    "Sure. I don't know why not. You were the life of the party last night,
you know."

    "I was?" Claire asked with astonishment. "What do you mean?"

    "You kept downing gin and tonics all night. God, I was impressed. I
thought you'd never stop. For a self-proclaimed prude, you did damn good! And
girl, you smoked like there's no tomorrow! I was proud of you. No one guessed
you just started."

    "Really? Tell me, Maya. How many cigarettes did I smoke last night? I
figure it must have been at least six."

    "Six?" Maya exclaimed sarcastically. "It was more like sixteen!"

    "That can't be," Claire muttered.

    "Look, I know," Maya answered confidently. "I had two unopened packs in my
purse when we hit the bar at eight o'clock. I looked this morning and there
were only a few left in the last one. You smoked almost as much as I did, and
I smoked an entire pack. That's what I mean. You were smoking last night,
girl!"

    "Did you smoke in my car last night, Maya?" Claire asked hesitantly.

    "We both did," came the playful reply. "We each had two cigarettes. You
insisted. You said it was time somebody smoked up a storm in your fancy, new
Lexus. You were drunk, honey. Honestly, it's a miracle you made it home last
night! You must feel like shit this morning, babe."

    "Yeah," Claire mumbled. Then she brightened. "But I had fun. Are you guys
going out again tonight?"

    "We sure are," Maya said cheerfully. "I suppose you want to join us?"

    "I'd love to."

    "There's just one thing," Maya warned.

    "What's that?"

    "Buy your own damn cigarettes! On my meager salary, I can't afford to
finance this growing, nasty, little habit of yours. But if you're willing to
drive, why don't you pick me up at seven thirty?"

    "It's a deal," Claire agreed.

    After hanging up, she stared at the wall in disbelief. Sixteen cigarettes?
Holy shit! She must have been really drunk! If she smoked that much, it
explained the mucus in her throat. She'd constantly had to clear it this
morning. Now she knew why. 

    Opening her top drawer, she removed some soda crackers and a jar of
cheese-whiz. This would be her lunch. As she munched on the crackers, she
grinned. "Linda Lee, you were more successful than I thought last night," she
whispered. "You were evil. You were SuperBadGirl!"

    She laughed. SuperBadGirl. She liked that name. She began organizing files
to dictate notes about this morning's patients. There were a few more
appointments this afternoon, but she'd still finish early. Roger noticed the
bloodshot eyes, but attributed the redness to the funeral. Good! She'd use the
same excuse again tomorrow. She smiled. She was looking forward to changing
into her new secret identity and spending another night as SuperBadGirl.

    Halfway through dictation, she turned off the machine and stared at the
wall. A realization hit her. In the comics, Supergirl was the authentic
person. Linda Lee was only the secret identity, a mere disguise that concealed
Supergirl's real self. Claire felt a twisted smile coming forth. Was that
happening here? Was SuperBadGirl her true identity? Was Claire Davis becoming
merely a disguise, a persona that hid SuperBadGirl, her true self, from the
world?

    She tingled with excitement at the idea that the evil Claire was the real
person, that the old Claire was a mere masquerade. Getting up, she locked her
office door. When she sat down, she didn't pick up the dictating equipment.
Instead, she took off her glasses and moved her right hand inside her skirt.
It was lunch time. No one would bother her for almost an hour. She slowly
moved her fingers back and forth inside her panties. She breathed harder. It
felt good. This was what she'd wanted time for this morning in the shower.
Harder and harder she worked, faster and faster, 'til finally she climaxed
amidst a flood of quiet moans escaping from her throat.

    After getting tissues to absorb the secretions around her private parts,
she took several deep breaths. She'd never done _that_ before in the office!
In fact, she rarely masturbated at all. But thinking about being SuperBadGirl
had made her want to - no, need to - pleasure herself. 

    For a moment, she fantasized about celebrating with a cigarette. After
all, in the movies, after sex people always celebrated with a cigarette! She
dismissed the thought as unrealistic, and put on her glasses. "SuperBadGirl,
you're becoming more real all the time," she told herself with a lewd smile.
"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to control you." 

    Wiping the juices from her private parts, she realized the tingling hadn't
ended, that she'd be able to come once more. "Oh, God," she sighed with a
naughty smile. "I'm just going to have to do this again!" Once again she
removed her glasses and this time pulled down her panties. Then she loosened
her hair, letting the curly locks fall freely over her shoulders. "God, I am
SuperBadGirl," she groaned as her fingers began working their magic a second
time.


    It was Saturday. Claire turned and looked at the alarm clock. It was eight
o'clock, for God's sake! For a moment, she panicked. Then she remembered.
Shit, she sighed. She didn't have to get up. She wasn't on today. Thank God
for the new doctor! She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. Good
thing, too. She'd been out drinking 'til two again, this time with Angie,
Leigh and another girl, Shanna. Being invited by Maya's friends without Maya
seemed like a big step toward solidifying her new persona.

    On Thursday night Angie had asked her if she'd come with them again on
Friday night. This time Maya had a date, but Angie and Leigh still wanted
Claire to join them. She'd been accepted! They didn't suspect she was a
doctor. They assumed she worked as a nurse at Parkside Hospital. She sighed.
The new friend, Shanna, was lots of fun. She was a tall, thin, sarcastic blond
with a gorgeous face and a great body. After Shanna'd had a couple drinks, she
was hilarious. Like the others, and like the new Claire, Shanna smoked. In
fact, Shanna was the heaviest smoker of the bunch. She had a lit cigarette in
her hand all night long. Instead of being repulsed, however, Claire found
herself admiring Shanna's appetite and aptitude for smoking. It no longer
seemed like a disgusting habit.

    Friday was the third consecutive night for her new identity, SuperBadGirl,
the evil Claire Davis, and the third consecutive time she went out with this
new crowd. She smiled as she laid in bed and contemplated these changes. She
hadn't partied this much in years, or had as much fun. Thinking about her
escapades, she decided she was no longer tired. She wanted to get up.

    She put on her glasses and stumbled downstairs in her nightgown. She put
on the coffee. Her curly, long dark brown hair went every which way. The smell
of the fresh pot brewing was especially intoxicating this morning. She
couldn't wait for the first cup. As she lingered by the stove, she noticed her
purse on the kitchen table. She decided to get her brush and run it through
her curly locks. As she emptied it,an open pack of Marlboro Lights 100's and a
lighter fell onto the table. She grinned. That pack had been fresh at nine
o'clock last night. Now there were only five or six cigarettes left.

    After brushing her hair, she poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the
table to read the morning paper. The coffee was delicious, but she couldn't
keep her eyes on the newspaper. Instead, they kept returning to the pack of
cigarettes. She'd enjoyed smoking last night more than ever. Over and over,
she loved sucking smoke deep down inside her lungs. She now completely
understood why people liked to smoke. It was so relaxing. It was so avant
garde, so decadent, so uninhibited. She smiled, remembering how smoking had
made her feel.

    Suddenly, Claire realized what was happening. She wanted to smoke again,
and she wanted to do it right now. In her kitchen. In the morning. For a
moment, the realization filled her with dread. And yet, the craving, the
longing, the hankering for a cigarette, was too strong. She took a sip of
coffee, half hoping the desire would pass. It didn't. It intensified. It was
real.

    According to her original plan, SuperBadGirl only came out at night.
Claire wondered if that plan made any sense. "What the hell," she said aloud.
"Linda Lee can change into Supergirl any fuckin' time she wants. Why can't
Claire Davis change into SuperBadGirl whenever she wants? I just want a
cigarette. It's not like I'm hooked or anything," she reassured herself.

    This would be the first cigarette she'd smoked wearing her glasses. That
seemed like another violation of the arrangement. She wasn't dressed as
SuperBadGirl. Her hair was free, like the evil Claire, but she hadn't put in
her contacts. "Shit," she muttered with a derisive grin. "Supergirl sometimes
uses her powers when she's dressed as Linda Lee, so I can smoke when I'm not
wearing my superhero costume." So what if she originally intended only to
smoke with her smoking friends? That didn't matter. The fact that she was in
her kitchen, in her nightgown, didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except that
she wanted a cigarette. Damn it, she was going to have one, too. Right now!

    Claire deliberately reached for the white and gold package and rescued a
cigarette from the wrapper, holding the long white cylinder between her
slender fingers for a long time. Her heart rate accelerated. Despite her
rationalizations, Claire knew damn well what was happening. But she was too
excited to care. She wanted one. Slowly she reached for her lighter. With no
more hesitation, she put the Marlboro in her mouth and lit up.

    The pungent odor of burning tobacco smoke overpowered her, but not in a
bad way. Instead, it was pure heaven. Claire pulled hard on her freshly lit
cigarette. She felt eagerness, almost desperation. She wanted smoke, and lots
of it, and she wanted it now. She wanted it as deep as possible inside her
lungs. She puffed long and hard, and breathed in the noxious cloud as deep as
she could. She wanted to deposit the smoke as far inside her body as
practicable. She breathed in and felt her chest expand to receive the smoke.
She purposely arched her back, raising her breasts and expanding her lung
capacity. Slowly but faithfully the nicotine absorbed into her bloodstream, as
the milky white smoke deep inside her body filled and penetrated the sacs in
her famished lungs. It was fuckin' great!

    Diffidently and reluctantly, Claire exhaled slowly through her nostrils.
Last night she'd experimented expelling smoke by way of her nose. She'd never
done it before, but she'd seen the other girls do it. She decided it looked
like fun. It seemed decadent. She liked it. It tickled. She'd done nostril
exhales on and off from then on. Exhaling through her nose gave her a great
rush once again. "No doubt about it. I'm learning to smoke like a pro," she
sighed with satisfaction. She took another long drag, again deeply inhaling
the fumes gushing from the cigarette. This whole process, long drags and deep
inhales, was quickly becoming second nature to her. It was part of the image
she was creating as the evil Claire.

    She took a sip of coffee. It tasted strangely satisfying mixed with
cigarette smoke. Not surprising, she decided. Nicotine, like caffeine, is a
stimulant. The two drugs' synergistic effect was both exhilarating and
pleasant. I could get used to this, she smiled as she took another long hit.
She began dreaming about lighting up another one when she finished this
cigarette.

    Suddenly she stopped. "God, what are you thinking?" she said aloud. "I'm
acting like a full-time smoker! Shit! This isn't supposed to happen." She
quickly crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, only half consumed. Her hands
trembled.

    "Maybe I'm getting hooked," she panicked, talking to herself out loud.
"Shit! But how could that be? God, I only started this because I figured I'd
keep the two identities separate. Fuck! If I don't watch out, Supergirl will
completely overpower Linda Lee." Then she smiled. It seemed amusing when she
realized how often she analyzed herself in those terms now. And the truth was,
in many ways SuperBadGirl had already overpowered Claire Davis. She didn't
want to spend evenings at home anymore. Why? Because she liked going out. She
liked seeing Angie and Maya and Leigh and Shanna. Sooner or later, she'd meet
some cute guys, too. Really, smoking was only a small part of the whole
package.

    She'd reassured herself. There's nothing to worry about, she decided.
"Anyway, I can't get hooked. My genes are defective. Liz's genes and mine are
the same." She smiled. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with smoking an
occasional cigarette by myself at home, she told herself. It doesn't mean
anything. I just enjoy smoking. I'm not addicted.

    Claire dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, and went about her usual off
weekend duties around the apartment. Wearing her glasses with her hair pulled
back, she felt like the old, boring Claire. She tried not to give smoking
another thought, cleaning and caring for her herb garden and running her
Saturday errands. She succeeded until it was time to call Maya late
afternoon.

    "How was your date last night?" Claire asked, after filling Maya in on the
details of her evening with Angie, Shanna and Leigh.

    "Great," Maya giggled. "Chris and I had a super time. We went to a movie
and then back to his place. And then .... Well, good girls never tell."

    "You're not a good girl," Claire teased. "Tell me. What happened?"

    "I stayed the night," Maya said. "We made love all night and again this
morning." She sighed. "God, he's good! I'm going to see him again tonight."

    Claire was disappointed. "Does that mean you're not coming with us this
evening?"

    "I asked Chris to join us. Hang on a second, would you?" There was a pause
on Maya's end of the line. Claire heard a quiet 'click' followed by the sound
of Maya breathing heavily into the phone. "I just wanted to light up a
cigarette," she explained. "I thought Chris could join us. Do you mind?"

    Hearing her friend smoke on the phone made Claire want one, too. Cordless
phone in hand, she found herself walking into the kitchen where her purse and
her cigarettes were waiting.

    "That would be fine with me," Claire answered, picking up her cigarettes.
Resistance was futile, she realized. If she said no, Maya would probably just
go with Chris anyway.

    She heard Maya taking another drag. She looked at the pack of cigarettes
she now held in her trembling hand. "Hey, Maya," she said. "Do you think it
would be evil if I had a cigarette right now, too?"

    "Why are you asking me?" Maya laughed. "I'm not your goddamn mother. Go
ahead, if you want one. Light up, for God's sake!"

    "But I promised myself I wouldn't, except when I was with my smoking
friends," Claire explained. "I really shouldn't."

    "Bullshit," Maya sneered. "You _are_ with one of your smoking friends.
Jesus! It's not like you're at the office or anything. If you want one, light
up, stupid."

    Maya had convinced her. She did want one. That was clear. Listening to
Maya, knowing that Maya was smoking, made joining her seem like the right
thing. "Okay," she brightened. "Shit, why not? I think I will," she added with
a girlish giggle.

    This time Maya waited. Claire put a cigarette in her mouth and flicked the
lighter. Pure pleasure enveloped her as she inhaled the first big puff into
her lungs. She pushed the smoke out of her nostrils and smiled involuntarily.
"Thanks," she said simply. "This is fun."

    "No shit! You'll soon find smoking's an absolute necessity when you're on
the phone, Claire," she answered. "I smoke constantly on the phone with my
girlfriends. Every time I hear the phone ring, I reach for my cigarettes!"

    This late afternoon sun shone through the window, illuminating the smoky
haze now encircling her head. Smoking this cigarette seemed strangely
satisfying to Claire. She talked a few minutes longer, and then Maya asked a
significant question. "Chris has a friend," she said slyly. "He wondered if
his friend could come tonight. His name is Tim. You don't have a problem if
both Chris and Tim join us, do you?"

    "I guess not," Claire replied. She exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the
receiver. "But is he cute?" she giggled.

    "Chris says he's good looking, but he's old. He's 32. I guess he's a
lawyer." Maya paused. "Maybe we can fix you up. Aren't you about 30?"

    "I'm 33," Claire confided. "But I'll kill you if you tell anyone."

    "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Maya laughed. "All your
secrets are safe with me, Claire. God, if I wanted to blackmail you, I could
make a goddamn fortune!"

    Claire took a last hit on her shrinking cigarette. She didn't own an
ashtray, so she used a glass bowl to collect her ashes. She crushed out the
cigarette in the bowl as she exhaled. "I'll look forward to meeting him," she
said coyly, ignoring Maya's last remark. "I'll pick you up before eight."


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

    The bar was dimly lit. The air was hazy, full of cigarette smoke. A band
played in the background, but no one paid much attention. At a table sat
Claire, Maya, Leigh and Shanna. Angie was elsewhere this evening. With the
four girls were Chris and his friend, Tim Roberts. Maya and Chris sat side by
side, and their hands were all over each other as the night progressed. It was
about ten o'clock. Everyone had had at least a few drinks. Everyone was
laughing. Claire was having a good time.

    All three ashtrays on the table were overflowing. That wasn't a surprise.
As they always did on their nights out, the girls smoked constantly. Much to
Claire's relief, both Chris and Tim smoked, too. She knew she'd be
uncomfortable if either of them weren't smokers. But there was nothing to
worry about. All six of them laughed and smoked and drank together. Claire
figured she herself had smoked almost half a pack so far. Not as bad as the
other girls, but bad enough.

    Following the last trip to the ladies room, Tim and Claire wound up next
to each other. Claire was still drinking light beer, though the other girls
had all switched to hard stuff. Claire started to put another cigarette in her
mouth. Tim's lighter showed up in front of her face before she could ready her
own.

    "Allow me, my lady," Tim said gallantly. He was handsome, about six two
with blond hair and a tan that could have belonged to a professional
lifeguard.

    "Thank you," Claire smiled. She wore a plaid shirt over a low cut (and
tight) sleeveless tank top. The plaid shirt was open and tied at the waist.
Because it was the mid-summer, she wore short shorts that showed off her long
legs. She also wore hoop earrings tonight, the first time she'd tried wearing
anything but her silver posts. Maya had told her she looked bitching. She
hoped so. She was trying her best to flirt with Tim.

    "Do you always smoke this much, Claire?" Tim teased, as she took her first
drag and expelled the smoke through her nostrils in her now usual fashion. 

    "Whenever I'm out on the town, I do," Claire replied demurely. She batted
her eyelashes, toying a bit with this gorgeous guy.

    Tim lit a cigarette of his own. He smoked Benson & Hedges Menthol Lights
100's. "I understand you probably can't smoke at work. None of us can anymore.
But okay, then, answer my question this way. How long have you been smoking?"

    Claire was nervous about the direction of the conversation. She looked
across the table in Maya's direction, hoping for some help. But Maya was busy
poking Chris and laughing. She was already drunk, and paid no attention to her
furtive glance.

    "I've been smoking long enough," Claire answered arrogantly, taking a long
pull on her cigarette and inhaling the smoke deep into her lungs, as if to
demonstrate that she was no novice.

    "I'm sure," Tim smiled, watching Claire tip her head and slowly exhale
from pursed lips, sending a lazy stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "I was
just curious. All four of you girls seem to be serious smokers." He offered a
sensual smile. "I like to see that in a woman."

    Before Claire could say anything, Shanna interjected a comment from the
opposite side of the table. "I've been smoking since I was fifteen," she
announced proudly. This gorgeous blond had had too much to drink, and was
being painfully flirtatious. She sent a vampish smile in Tim's direction. Her
voice was self-satisfied, and her words slightly slurred. "I smoke a pack and
a half a day and I'm damn proud of it," she said loudly. "I'll never quit. I
love smoking."

    "That's interesting," Tim replied politely. "I like a girl who knows what
she likes." He turned towards Claire, avoiding further interaction with
Shanna. Claire sensed Tim wanted to talk to her, not to Shanna. "How much do
you smoke, Claire?" he continued.

    "Too much for my own good," Claire answered quickly, with a smile. She
hoped this answer would suffice. "Why do you care whether a woman is a serious
smoker?"

    "Because I've had my fill of dating women who are social smokers," he said
quietly. "You know what I mean? I'm talking about women who only smoke when
they hit the bars but don't smoke in real life."

    "Oh?" Claire gasped. She returned her cigarette to her lips for another
hit. "What's wrong with that?"

    Tim smiled as he took a long drag on his own cigarette. "The last girl I
dated was a social smoker," he said as he inhaled. "We were pretty serious. We
moved in together for awhile. We got along in most ways, but it irritated Sue
that I smoked all the time around the house. She began dropping little hints
that I should quit." He squinted at Claire. "I hated that. I swore I'll never
go out again with a woman who doesn't smoke at least as much as I do. It may
be stupid, but I have no intention of quitting. I'm only interested in women
who share my feelings on the subject. Shanna obviously agrees with me. Do
you?"

    Claire gulped. "Sure," she smiled boldly. She tapped some ashes in the
ashtray. "I think two people should only get together if they agree on major
issues." She took a hit on her cigarette. "Like smoking," she added.

    "Why does everything have to be so serious?" Shanna interrupted. "Why
can't you just have a good time, Tim? Lots of girls would love to have a good
time with a guy like you," she added suggestively.

    "I'm 30 years old," Tim said softly. "I'm too old for the one-night-stand
routine. I'm getting to the place where I need some stability."

    "Me, too," Claire lied. She sensed any other answer would be a turn off.
She desperately wanted to charm him. He obviously wanted to sit beside her,
and she was incredibly horny. This might be her opportunity to score, and she
didn't want to blow it. "I'm looking for someone with stability, myself," she
added.

    "What do you do, Claire?" he asked.

    "Claire is a nurse at Parkside," Shanna broke in loudly. "Or something.
Aren't you, Claire?"

    To this point, Claire hadn't adequately developed her story about the evil
Claire's job. She'd casually mentioned Parkside, but the idea that she was a
nurse was an inference by Shanna and the others. She just smiled weakly at
Tim.

    "I have some friends who are nurses at Parkside," he said
enthusiastically. "Which unit are you in?"

    "Uh, medical surgical, on the fourth floor," Claire answered hesitantly.
She was making it up as she went along, hoping she could escape
inconsistencies. She'd done her residency at Parkside. She knew the territory
well enough to make the story stick..

    "No kidding? Do you know Amanda Stevens? Or Robin O'Malley? They've both
been there for awhile."

    Claire did know the two nurses from her residency, though not well. She
hadn't seen either of them for over a year. "Sure. How do you know them?" she
asked, dodging the direct question by asking one in return.

    "I took the depositions of both Amanda and Robin in a case last year. It
was a medical malpractice case I worked on for a couple years against a
surgeon named Dr. Andrew Winters. I represented the plaintiff, but I got to
know both girls pretty well. They work for the hospital, but my client got
screwed by Dr. Winters and they knew it. We were supposed to be on opposite
sides, but both Amanda and Robin cooperated completely. They were delighted
when my client got a big verdict against Dr. Winters. I think their
willingness to help me pissed off the medical staff. But screw that! You must
know them pretty well. After all," he said, in a kidding fashion, "they both
smoke."

    Claire gasped. Amanda and Robin were roughly her age. They were top-notch
nurses. She was surprised to learn they smoked. She'd had no clue. Of course,
medical staff residents never got to know the nursing staff well. Still, she
was dumbfounded two top nurses on that unit were smokers. She wondered if the
egocentric surgeons they worked with knew. She doubted it. That, too, would
piss them off.

    Claire remembered well the malpractice case Tim was referring to. He was
correct. Dr. Winters was royally pissed at the testimony Amanda and Robin
gave. The nurses essentially agreed with the plaintiff and admitted Winters
screwed up. The doctor evidently tried to get them fired as a result, but the
hospital refused to do anything about it. In the end, she'd heard Winters'
malpractice carrier would have to pay a substantial amount for that case.

    "Yeah," Claire replied with self-confidence. "I know those gals." Another
realization hit her. Tim was a plaintiff's lawyer. He sued doctors. This made
her increasingly uneasy about the chances of a relationship. "So, you sue
doctors," she stated casually. "Do you enjoy that?"

    Tim laughed. "I don't sue doctors," he replied. "I met Amanda and Robin on
a case where I was helping another lawyer. He was my partner at the time, and
it was his case. That was over a year ago, before I went out on my own. Now I
do workers compensation cases almost exclusively." He sat back and smiled.
"They were nice ladies, though. We were sort of kindred spirits because we all
three smoked. I found out when I took their depositions. We had a break in the
middle, and both girls joined me outside for a cigarette."

    Claire sighed. Thank God. Despite the separate evil persona, she'd never
go to bed with a medmal plaintiff's lawyer. She did quick calculus in her
head. If Tim knew Amanda and Robin from a concluded legal case, he probably
didn't still see them. Therefore, he wouldn't know she was lying if she made
up some details.

    "Yeah, it's great having other smokers on the floor," she said
confidently. "You know, for moral support. After all, we have to hang
together, or we'll surely hang separately."

    "You're right. In fact, I'm having lunch with Amanda and Robin later this
month," he smiled. "I told them I'd treat them to lunch when my side had won.
Well, the court of appeals upheld the verdict and all the trial court rulings
just last week. We set up our lunch, sort of as a celebration." Tim lowered
his voice "I'll tell you the truth, and this won't surprise you, since they're
friends of yours. If either of those two weren't already married, I'd ask
either of them out in a heartbeat. They're great people, you know."

    "Yep, they sure are," Claire agreed without conviction. Shit! That lunch
will blow the whole story! She sighed. Well, nothing to be done. "By the way,
who was the doctor you nailed again?" She asked to convey the impression she
hadn't been paying attention.

    "A guy named Andrew Winters. He was a real asshole. You must know him,
too."

    Claire nodded. Dr. Winters was indeed an asshole. He was both arrogant and
stupid. If somebody had to be nailed in a malpractice case, she couldn't have
chosen a better candidate.

    The party continued until midnight. To keep her wits about her, Claire
stayed with light beer the whole night. She was the most sober member of the
group as things started to break up.

    "Hey, Claire I'm going home with Chris," Maya announced, to no one's
surprise. She waved her pack of cigarettes in the air. "You don't have to
drive me home. Sorry, but I won't get to smoke in your new Lexus tonight."

    "That's okay," Claire smiled. "Have a good time, you two."

    "Hey, Claire, we have a problem," Chris added. "Tim came with me. Can you
give him a ride home?"

    "I'd love to give Tim a ride," Shanna jumped in enthusiastically. "Come
with me, Timmy. I'll take good care of you. I just want to stay a little
longer; maybe have one more drink." To demonstrate her resolve, she lit
another cigarette.

    "I'd be happy to give Tim a ride home," Claire interjected, purposely
ignoring Shanna's offer. Shanna was pretty drunk. She wasn't sure she should
drive herself home, let alone try to navigate to Tim's place and back. That
is, if Shanna had any intention of going home tonight.

    "Thanks for the offer, Shanna," Tim replied. "But I'd like to go right
now. So if you're staying for awhile, I'll just ride with Claire." He smiled.
"I'd love to see your new Lexus."

    "Damn party-poopers," Shanna snorted. "I'll stay whether anyone else does
or not."

    "I'll stay with you," Leigh announced. "We'll stay until they stop
serving, or 'til we run out of smokes, whichever happens first." She joined
Shanna by lighting up another cigarette.

    Tim and Claire walked into the night air. It was cool and clear. He turned
to look at her. "I wanted an opportunity to spend time with just you, Claire,"
he said softly. "You're a beautiful women, and obviously smart, too."

    "Thanks," she blushed. "I like you, too, Tim."

    They got in her Lexus. Tim's place was across town and the drive was
substantially out of Claire's way. But she didn't mind. She wanted to think of
some clever way to come on to him, but chickened out. She decided to leave the
first move to him. After a few minutes, he turned toward her. "Is it okay if I
smoke in your car?" he asked. "It doesn't smell like you smoke in here much."

    "No, go ahead and light up," she laughed, perhaps too forcefully. "It
doesn't smell like smoke because I just got it washed. They clean the inside
as well as the outside. Usually it absolutely reeks of cigarette smoke. I
smoke in here all the time. Go ahead," she urged.

    Without further comment, Tim lit up a B&H. "Don't you want one?" he asked
politely, the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

    She hadn't intended to smoke after leaving the bar. After all, she'd
smoked constantly all night long. But Tim's cigarette smelled delicious. She
_did_ want another one. Fuck the car! She'd smoke with him. "Uh, sure," she
smiled sweetly. "My purse is in the back seat. My cigarettes are in there.
Could you grab them for me?"

    "Why not just have one of mine?" he suggested. "It's easier than reaching
yours in the back seat. Unless you don't like menthol, that is."

    "No, menthol is fine," Claire lied. Of course, she'd never tried menthol.
At least she now knew what menthol referred to. Leigh and Shanna both smoked
menthols, Salems to be exact, but Claire'd never tried one. However, the smell
of his smoke was simply too inviting. She wanted a cigarette, and she'd
certainly try one of his. Plus, she wanted Tim to believe she wasn't only a
social smoker. "Let me have one," she announced.

    He removed a second cigarette from his pack. Instead of handing it to her,
he reached across with his free hand and put the unlit cigarette directly into
her mouth. Without speaking, she smiled and accepted it with her lips. As Tim
withdrew his hand, he softly stroked her cheek. The electricity was
unmistakable. "Let me get you a light," he said gently. She got goosebumps. He
might as well have offered to fuck her right then and there. She was ready!

    Putting his own cigarette in his mouth, he again reached across and
flicked his lighter. Claire's hands never left the wheel. He touched the tip
of her dangling cigarette with the flame. The cigarette sparked to life, and
the tobacco crackled and burned. She took a long drag, her hands still affixed
to the steering wheel. She inhaled the smoke, letting the cigarette dangle
from her lips. It felt ... deliciously decadent.

    The mentholated smoke felt strangely different inside her eager lungs.
Different, but pleasant. Very pleasant. So _this_ is what menthol tastes like,
she thought. It's good!

    As she usually did now, Claire released her initial exhale through her
nostrils. The exhaled smoke, together with the smoke ascending from the
dangling cigarette, encircled her in vaporous concentric circles. In the
reflective glare of oncoming headlights, the slowly drifting haze danced
languidly around her head and face. "You look lovely," Tim gasped
involuntarily.

    "Thank you," Claire purred. Her cigarette still dangled. Skillfully using
her lips, she carefully sealed them around her cigarette a second time. While
she sucked, the cigarette rose to attention at a ninety degree angle and was
pulled slightly inside her mouth. The tip turned bright red while she took a
second, protracted puff. Releasing it once again to a dangling position, she
inhaled more smoke, still refusing to remove it from her lips. "I really like
menthol," Claire sighed, as exhaled smoke escaped around the edges of her
swaying cigarette. "I don't know why I don't smoke these more often," she
added, as smoke streamed from her lips and nostrils.

    "I'm glad you like it," Tim replied. "You can bum one of mine whenever you
want."

    He stared at her. Claire knew what was coming next. They both did. It
happened when they arrived at his apartment. Tim asked if she'd come up for
some coffee. "I'd love to," she said truthfully. But she knew it'd be one hell
of a long cup!


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