(by, 17 November 1997)

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   "Get off !"
   Tiffany pushed and Greg rolled off of her. He looked almost comical, lying
their naked with his penis sticking up at full attention.
   "What's wrong ?" he asked, suddenly sounding seventeen.
   "You're thinking about somebody else. You're seventeen fucking years old and
you can't even keep your mind on me."
   He reached out to stroke her face gently, and as much as Tiff loved the feel
of his soft, strong hands on her skin, she still found the will to slap his
hand away.
   "What makes you think-"
   "You had your fucking eyes closed. That means you're thinking about somebody
else. And don't think I don't know who. I wish our parents had never left
town. To think I was looking forward to this. It's Lisa, isn't it ?"
   "No, Tiff."
   "If you lie to me, I'll kick you out of the house. You can eat cold
leftovers for Thanksgiving."
   "There's no right answer, is there ?" he asked. "If I say I wasn't thinking
about Lisa you'll say I'm lying. If I say I was thinking about her-"
   He rolled over, stood up, walked over to his backpack, and pulled out a pack
of Marlboro 100s.
   "You can't smoke in my bedroom."
   "Why ? The whole house smells smoky. Your parents will never notice."
   Tiffany sighed. "Go ahead. But I want to know why you're thinking about Lisa
while we're  having sex."
   Greg thought about it as he lit the cigarette. There were only four left in
the pack and he'd planned to make them last all day. Now he was wondering why
Tiffany hadn't already kicked him out.
   "I want to know, Greg. If you can't be honest about it- what the hell does
she have that I don't ?"
   That was a good question. Tiffany was certainly more attractive than Lisa-
not that Lisa wasn't a knockout, but Tiffany-
   Tiffany was gorgeous. Full breasted, long reddish blonde hair, and killer
green eyes. Her face was so gentle and innocent, even now while she was
   But Lisa.
   He couldn't tell her, could he ? Did he understand it himself ?
   "Either tell me or go home, Greg. it's your choice."
   Greg pulled on the cigarette, extracted it from him mouth, and stared at it.
He thought about Lisa with a Virginia Slims in her mouth, thought about the
way that smoke would trail from her mouth as she spoke to him. He remembered
one time, right after the first time they'd had sex. She'd taken a deep
inhale and blew the smoke from her nose. It was a perfect moment, the same
one he'd been thinking about when Tiffany snagged him.
   "Would you consider smoking for me ?"
   "That's what this is about ?" Tiffany demanded angrily. "That's sick. You're
telling me that Lisa turns you on because she smokes ?"
   "Yes," he said, getting angry himself. 
   "I don't believe it. If I want to get her out of your mind I have to pollute
myself with cigarette smoke like my parents ?"
   "Something like that-" he said sheepishly. This wasn't going well. He'd
gently been trying to encourage her to smoke but it was going nowhere. He'd
always thought that since he smoked and her parents smoked and most of their
friends smoked, she might one day-
   Just try one, at least.
   "I'm not a smoker, Greg. I thought you understood that. Now I know why
you're always teasing me, trying to get me to try it. I thought it was
harmless, but this is-"
   His sheepishness gave way to frustration. "Okay. I get off watching Lisa
smoke. I'd get off watching you smoke. You're way better looking than Lisa
and you're a nicer person, too, but-"
   "But you have this sick fascination, right ?" Tiffany yanked the covers up
over herself, not wanting to give Greg a free show right now. "I don't
believe you. I don't believe me. I was looking forward to spending the
weekend with you. No parents, no friends, just you and me. I even went to the
oby-gyn to get a fucking diaphragm for you, and that was embarrassing."
   "It's not sick. It's perfectly normal. Like when you asked me to wear the
handcuffs last night. You think those fucking things are comfortable ?"
   The phone rang.
   "Go downstairs and put the coffee on, while I decide if I want you to stay."
   Greg did as he was told, feeling as though it was all slipping away.
   "Hello ?" Tiffany said, picking up the phone.
   "Hey, Tiff, it's Mom."
   "I recognise your voice, Mom. How's San Francisco ?"
   "Great, honey. How are you and Greg doing ? You get any sleep last night ?"
   "Mom !"
   "I helped you pick out those handcuffs, remember ?"
   "Mom, you agreed to let me have a little privacy, remember. Besides-"
   "What's wrong, honey ?"
   "Greg was thinking about somebody else while we were, you know-"
   "Honey, sometimes I pretend Daddy is David Duchovny. It's spices it up.
That's perfectly normal. Your Dad asks me to-"
   "I don't want to hear it, Mom. Besides, that's only half of it- the half I
might be able to deal with."
   "Talk to me-"
   It was strange. Tiffany imagined that most sixteen year old girls not only
wouldn't be able to discuss sex with their moms, but would die before
admitting that they were even having sex. But Mom really was a good person to
talk to, like the older sister she would never have.
   "Well, he- oh, he said the reason because he was thinking about Lisa-"
   "Lisa Cole, right ?"
   "Yes, mom. Well, Lisa smokes, and I guess that's a turn on for him."
   "Well, then, why don't you smoke for him ?"
   "Mom !"
   "You know, you could get off that high horse of yours about smoking. Dad and
I have been holding out hope that Greg would be a good influence on you in
that regard."
   Tiffany signed. Here they went again. It seemed that everyone but she
herself was in favour of her smoking.
   Most girls she knew would have loved to be in her position.
   "Mom, you're supposed to tell me that you're glad I'm succumbing to peer
pressure, that smoking is bad for me."
   "I'd have to believe those things. You're sixteen, honey. Smoking a few
cigarettes a day isn't going to hurt you, and Dad and I- well, we're like any
parents. We want our little girl to grow up to be like us. We believe in
smoking. We want you to smoke. When you started going out with Greg, we had
high hopes. You're too stiff. Relax a little. Try it for him."
   "I can't believe this is the advice you're giving me."
   "I'm sorry, honey, but you can't expect any sympathy from me on this, okay ?
The best thing that could happen is the same thing which happened the first
time your father gave me a cigarette. I loved it. You will too."
   "Thanks for nothing, Mom. Oh, well, thanks for leaving the wine."
   "It wouldn't be thanksgiving without a bottle of wine, honey. Look, you have
a great holiday and promise me you'll try just smoking one cigarette. If not
for your father and I, for Greg. And tell him his parents said hi."
   "I will."
   Tiffany got dressed quickly, thinking about what her mom had said.
   She was dead wrong and dead right at the same time. Typical Mom.

   Greg was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a steaming mug of black
coffee and smoking another cigarette. He looked worried, which was good. That
was the way that she preferred it.
   "Do you think that the convenience store down the street is open ?"
   "Every day, all day. Even Christmas. Why ? I thought we had everything we
needed for dinner."
   "We do. But you're almost out of cigarettes, so we should go get some more."
   "I thought you weren't too keen on the whole smoking thing, Tiff."
   "That's my smoking. Of which there currently is no such thing. But I don't
mind the fact that you smoke. It's kind of cute, actually."
   "You really think so ?"
   "Come on. Pour me that coffee and let's take a walk."
   The store was deserted except for a middle aged man of indeterminable
origins working the front counter. Greg wasn't one to pad his purchases. He
walked up to the counter and asked for a box of Marlboro 100s. The man eyed
him, as if to say that he knew he wasn't eighteen, glanced once briefly
across the store just to make sure that none one was watching, and the handed
the cigarettes over.
   "2.38, please."
   Greg paid out two ones and two quarters.
   "Ready to go ?" he asked Tiffany, who walked up behind him.
   "Just a minute." She turned her attention to the cashier. "Can I have a box
of Virginia Slims ?"
   "Sure." He smiled warmly and handed the cigarettes over without comment.
   She pulled out a five and waited for her change with a strange sort of
nervous excitement. Thankfully, Greg said nothing until they were actually
   "What the hell are you doing ?"
   "I bought a pack of cigarettes. Do you have a problem with that ?"
   They started walking back towards the house. It had begun to snow lightly.
It was just supposed to be a dusting, but it was enough to make Tiffany start
thinking of Christmas rather than Thanksgiving. They walked nearly half a
block in utter silence before Greg seemed able to decide how it was he did
feel about her purchase.
   "I don't want you doing this just because you're mad-"
   Tiffany laughed. "If you think I would, you don't know me very well, Greg."
   "Then why ?"
   "I wanted to be the proud owner of a new pack of cigarettes, that's why."
   "In other words, you're going to tease the living fuck out of me because
you're mad at me, right ? If I said I was sorry-"
   The snow began to intensify. Tiffany had been thinking that maybe they could
go for a nice long walk at the supply pond before the games, but that idea
wouldn't survive a real snow storm.
   "Look, you have a point, all right, Greg ? I mean, I've seen Lisa smoke- god
knows, it's all she does. And you're right. If I was a guy, it would probably
be a major turn-on. Allow me to think about changing my mind, and you just
might get a big fat reward."
   "I find that hard to believe, but just seeing that pack of cigarettes in
your hand-"
   Tiffany stopped walking. She was trying very hard to look at this from his
point of view, but-
   It was hard to understand. No question that Lisa was attractive, after all,
in a low-brow sort of way, and she had a way of smoking which was vaguely
sensual, but how was it that a simple act like that could have such a strong
hold on Greg, who seemed otherwise perfectly normal. It had the merest hint
of a perversion to it, when you stopped to think about it.
   "Can you really tell me that's all there is to it ? That Lisa doesn', I
don't know, have some weird sort of hold over you ? I mean, I never thought
that we'd go out. We've been friends forever- our parents are so close they
leave us alone to have Thanksgiving together-"
   "You're thinking maybe it was too easy ?" Greg asked, brushing snow out of
his long hair.
   "Yeah. I know that you chased Lisa around for six months before she started
saying 'Hi' to you in homeroom, and then it was another three before she
agreed to go to the movies with you-"
   "It's nothing like that. I just- god, when she lights up, it's like the rest
of the world fades to black, you know-"
   "I don't know."
   The wind started to pick up, signalling that the storm was coming in off the
lake. No mere flurries.
   "I'm sorry."
   "Don't be. I'm the one who thinks hand-cuffing you to the bed is cool, right
? And you didn't whig on me, did you ?"
   "Let's get inside."
   At least they could agree on that.
   They were back at the kitchen table, drinking more coffee and talking. Or
rather, Tiffany was talking. Greg was smoking again, taking advantage of the
fact that he had a new pack waiting. Finally, she ran out of vague, elitical
talk and had sto start thinking about where to go from here.
   Tiffany had gone so far as to remove the slick cellophane from the pack, but
she was still far short of actually removing one of the long, slender
cigarettes from the pack. Instead, she'd asked Greg to tell her about how it
was that he'd actually started smoking, what had made him decide that it was
something he really wanted to do. It was strange, really, that he'd never
told her, but to be honest it had never matter before.
   He was smiling.
   "I don't know that you really want to hear this."
   "Lisa again ?"
   "Sort of."
   "Tell me anyway. Think of it as inspiration."
   "Put that way, I have no choice. Beth had been trying to get me to try
smoking for almost a year. Mom and Dad were out at Thurston's on route 86. We
were home watching Millennium. I don't know why. It must have been the last
Friday night in recorded history Beth didn't have a date. She was sitting on
the couch, blowing smoke rings, spreading cigarette smoke into every last
corner of the living room and generally teasing me about the fact that I
wouldn't at least try one while the 'rents were out."
   "Beth's remarkably persistent, isn't she ?" Tiffany asked as she picked up
the cigarettes. The box had an interesting feel to it. There was a certain
excitement to holding the pack in her hand, knowing even that gesture gave
some power over Greg- who she really did like. Quite a bit. He smiled as he
looked at the pack in her hands, in fact, his eyes held an almost dreamy
quality. Then he continued.
   "Yeah, she is. Well, Beth has a certain way about her when she smokes. I'll
be honest with you. Sometimes when Mom and Dad aren't home, she goes upstairs
to her room, lies down in bed, and- uh, I don't know if you want to hear
   "She masturbates while she smokes, right ?"
   "Kelli Hamlington does the same thing."
   "Kelli ? Ms. Purity Control ?"
   "How do you know ?"
   "I asked her the other day why she looks like she's getting laid when she
smokes and she just came right out and told me."
   "Which is exactly how Beth looks when she smokes. Anyway, it was the middle
commercial break, and she looks over at me- this about a week before Lisa and
I had our first date, and she just blurts out 'You know, Lisa would go out
with you if you smoked.'"
   "I knew this would come back to her."
   Greg frowned. He had a feeling this might not help matters, but he was too
far along to stop.
   "Well, Beth is sitting there looking like she's going to have an orgasm on
the couch just because she's smoking, and I started to imagine Lisa-"
   "Little head thinking for the big one."
   "Something like that. I went over and sat down next to her and said 'If I
what ?'"
   Greg laughed. He was remembering now what it had been like and Tiffany saw
the pleasure the memory was bringing him.
   "She put the cigarette in her mouth, inhaled, blew the smoke up over her
head. Sister or not, she's gorgeous when she smokes. She looked at me and said
 'Smoking, remember ? The act of drawing cigarette smoke deep into your
lungs, savouring it, and then releasing it slowly.'"
   "'I know what smoking is, Beth.' I was getting pissed off. It would be just
like Beth to make something like this up out of thin air."
   "But she didn't, did she ?" Tiffany asked, turning the pack over in her
hand. She really liked the taunt feel of the cardboard, along with the
knowledge that she had something slightly forbidden in her hand.
   "No, but it was later that I found out she was telling the truth. Anyway, I
thought about what she was saying and decided that if would be a small price
to pay on the off chance she wasn't just lying to get what she wanted. So I
asked if I could try one, and the rest is history."
   "What was that first one like ?"
   Greg inhaled deeply, thought about it.
   "It was- hard. The smoke was- well, these things are a lot harsher than a
Virginia Slims. There's a reason they call it a full-flavoured cigarette, you
know ?"
   "I don't know. Tell me."
   "It wasn't easy. Beth was nice about it. She told me not to start inhaling
right away. Smoke has a funny taste when you're not used to it, but by the
time I finished the first one, I wanted another, and Beth was more than glad
to oblige."
   He stopped talking, and Tiffany put the pack down. She was getting a little
   She admitted to herself that she was getting excited just holding the
   "That's it ?"
   "Well, she taught me to inhale, and that was it."
   "How ?"
   "Haven't I done enough soul baring ?"
   Tiffany smiled. Greg was uncomfortable, and that was perfect.
   "No. How'd she teach you to inhale ?"
   Her boyfriend sighed. He understood there'd be no getting around this.
Tiffany had an idea, but she wanted to hear him actually say it.
   "She inhaled, put her mouth over my, and blew the smoke into my mouth, if
you have to know."
   "You kissed her ?" Tiffany asked, teasing.
   "She kissed me."
   "Was there tongue ?"
   "No," Greg said strongly, but his emerald eyes told a different story.
   "None ?"
   "Well, maybe a little. But just once."
   Tiffany reached out and patted Greg's hand. "It's okay. Everyone kisses
their sister once in a while."
   "Not like that."
   "And a week later, you were doing with Lisa, right."
   "Yeah. And here I am, today, all my secrets told. Now, are you going to
light one of those cigarettes, or are you just going to fondle the pack ?"
   In a way, Tiffany almost felt like she owed that much to Greg after getting
him to tell his story. She went so far as to pick up the pack and pull one of
the cigarettes out. She put it between her lips and held it there smiling as
Greg's eyes bulged. She didn't have to be his sister to understand that he
was getting turned on just seeing her like that, dangling for him.
   He was there in a flash with a light, but she pulled away. There was a world
of different between dangling and smoking and as the flame from the lighter
drew close to the cigarette she understood that she would never quite be able
to do this of her own free will. It was too much like giving up. To Greg and
her mom, and to fucking Lisa as well.
   She could give into Greg. To her mom.
   Not to Lisa.
   But there was another way.
   "Come upstairs with me."
   Greg looked disappointed and annoyed. When she'd pulled away from the
lighter all his fears that she was merely teasing him came back.
   "Now," Tiffany said when he made no move to follow. "If you want me to
smoke, you're going to have to work for it. And bring those damn cigarettes
with you."
   The bed was so warm. Tiffany kept the heat down when the parents weren't
home. The place was huge and it cost a fortune to heat, so she kept the house
almost chill. But lying naked on the bed, it was certainly nice that there
was a forced air vent right over her head, blowing warm air down on her taunt
   The metal handcuffs were especially cold on her slender wrists.
   "I'm your prisoner, Greg," she said, slipping into her role. "And as such,
you can do anything to me that you want."
   As always, he seemed the slightest bit hesitant to play the game. It wasn't
exactly that he lacked imagination, but rather that-
   He was a man, after all. Genetics dictated that his imagination was mildly
arrested by default.
   "I'm ready to face my punishment. Do what you have to. But I'll never give
   He smiled. There was no question that Tiffany liked this little prisoner
game of hers, although this was the first time she'd played the role quite
this way.
   It was kind of funny, wasn't it ?
   "You never should have defied me, Tiffany," he said, deciding that if
nothing else, it was certainly nice to see her naked form stretched across
the bed, nervous anticipation making every muscle tight. "The first day I saw
you, I knew it would come to this." He let the game infuse him. "Now I'll
have my way with you. But first I have something that I want to do, and
remember, you have to co-operate."
   "I'm not afraid of you," she said, but the truth was that she was the
littlest bit afraid. The game was the one thing which would allow her to do
this, but she was worried. Was her whole life about to change ?
   Or was just going to start smoking.
   And if she afraid of the idea, why was it so exciting ?
   Greg pulled the cigarette out of the pack for a second time. He put her pack
of cigarettes- she liked the sound of that, her cigarettes - down and lit one
of his own. He then crawled on the bed naked, his penis still flaccid, and
placed her cigarette in her mouth.
   "Don't try to fight it," he said, leaning close to her ear, his breath full
and smoky.
   He slipped behind her so that her head was resting in his crotch and moved
the lighter close to the cigarette.
   She turned her head, as if to resist.
   He moved it gently back so that she could stare up into his eyes. There was
no mercy there and they both understood that she wanted none.
   Without further ceremony, he lit the cigarette.
   There it was, sitting in her mouth, burning. She was almost smoking.
   She could feel his penis hardening.
   Then she tried to inhale, just enough to get the smoke into her mouth. As
she did, he removed the cigarette from her mouth.
   She did as she was told, blowing the faintest cloud of smoke from her mouth.
   He hardened considerably.
   "Again," he said, moving the cigarette back to her mouth.
   She'd made a decision. As soon as the cigarette was in her lips she closed
them tightly around it and inhaled.
   Really inhaled.
   The lightheadedness almost made her sick, but other than that-
   She'd expected the smoke to burn her lungs and the taste to gag her.
Instead, she felt nothing but a wonderfully sharp high, a deep sense of
frenetic calm, if there was such a thing. Her body relaxed, and as she blew
smoke up into her captor's face he came in her hair. But all she could think
about was how the taste in her mouth was sweet and perfectly agreeable.
   "Oh shit," he said. "I'm sorry-"
   "It's okay," she replied coyly. "I'm yours. Do whatever you want."
   He did, moving the cigarette back down to her lips. She inhaled again, held
it, and then spoke, smoke trailing from her mouth.
   "Uncuff me."
   He drew deeply on his own cigarette and then undid the cuffs, thinking sadly
that the game was over. But as soon as Tiffany's hands were free, she reached
up and held out her hand until Greg handed over her cigarette. She took it
with one hand and let her other drift down past her waist. While Greg watched
in stark amasement, she began to masturbate for him as she spoke.
   "You don't mind, do you ?" she asked, her voice heavy from the smoke she was
   Who was Greg to complain.
   He was hard again before she could finish, so she let him do it for her.
   Dinner was over. Tiffany and Greg were lying on the couch together,
alternating kissing and smoking as they watched the tail-end of the
Dallas-Oilers game. Tiffany couldn't have cared less who was winning, and she
was surprised at how little Greg seemed to care. Still, he looked slightly
relieved when the phone rang.
   Tiffany sat up and picked the phone up off the table.
   "Hello, Mom."
   "How was dinner ?"
   "Great. They'll be plenty of leftovers. Thanks again for the wine."
   "You a little drunk and tired now ? I know we are."
   "Actually, it seems like a cigarette after a big meal wakes you back up
   "What did you say ?"
   "I said that a cigarette-"
   "I heard what you said. Honey, that's great. What brand ?"
   "Virginia Slims. I know they're not yours, but-"
   "Honey, I don't care. As long as you're happy."
   Tiffany tousled Greg's hair and then inhaled deeply.
   "I am, mom. I am. Gotta go."
   She hung up the phone, and then kissed Greg. Deeply. Hopefully deeply enough
to make him forget all about Lisa. 
   And his sister.

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