The War Is Over, Part 4

This fictional account contains adult language and sexual 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 2006 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 or using it.

THE WAR IS OVER

4.	"I'm Not Smoking, I'm Not!"

   Kathleen got back to the office late.  She had to go home and change
clothes.  Her blouse and skirt were filthy from being rubbed against the beer
truck behind Phil's bar.  She put on fresh clothes and vigorously brushed her
teeth, using mouthwash to eliminate all hints of smoke on her breath.

   Upon returning to work she learned Mitch Rodriguez needed to tape a
post-referendum segment with her for his program that afternoon.  It couldn't
wait.  She cursed under her breath, but with Brooke's help managed to fit a
meeting with Mitch into her revamped schedule.

   Brooke noticed Kathleen's new outfit.  She asked what happened.

   "None of your damn business," her boss laughed.  "I told you what was up.
I got fucked over lunch.  So what?  Wouldn't you if you had the chance?"

   "Yeah sure, I suppose," Brooke teased, twirling her bouncy brown hair
between her fingers.  "But if it was me I wouldn't hold back the details.
I'd tell my good friend all about it."

   "Come on, Brooke, you know nice girls don't kiss and tell."

   "Yeah, Kathy, but since when are you a nice girl?  From what I see, you're
as bad as they come!"

   "Brooke, you have no fuckin' idea bad I can be!"  She laughed.  "Sometimes
I surprise myself.  But I can't tell details other than to say it was
unbelievably hot!  Let your imagination run wild.  But whatever you imagine I
promise it was ten times hotter!"  She nervously brushed her lap although no
ashes were on her new clothes.  "Now back to work.  I gotta review the
statistics from Dr. Robbins and get my proposal ready for the steering
committee meeting the day after tomorrow."

   Brooke closed the door.  Kathleen looked at Dr. Robbin's materials;
statistics on youth smoking and a plea to further de-emphasize the glamour of
the filthy habit.  Unfortunately, the more Kathleen read about the evils of
kids smoking the more she thought back to her rendezvous with Phil and the
smoking she did with him.  Eventually she threw the stack of papers on her
desk in frustration.

   "God, Phil's fuckin' ruined me.  When I read about smoking all I think of
is the hot sex we had, that damn smoker.  And worst of all, I want more of
it!"

   But was it the sex she wanted, or the sex _combined_ with the smoking that
went with it?  For the first time she realized she was thinking differently.
She used to see smoking as totally evil; something to be avoided and stamped
out at all costs.  But now-?  She let out a sigh.  Now it'd taken on new
significance.  Smoking was a lovely remembrance of her delectable rebellion
and how good it felt to indulge herself with Phil.

   She tried to work on her proposal for the steering committee.  She wanted
to list ideas on what she'd do if the committee extended her contract and
kept her on as SmokeFreeBayCity's spokesperson.  It was no use.  Each time
she began a new section on fighting the evils of smoking she felt herself
getting wet between the legs.

   "Fuck him!  God, fuck that bastard Phil Wolfe!"  Each time she said it, it
only made her want to do just that, to fuck him.  The sexy combination of
smoking and fucking she experienced twisted her thinking, making her want to
smell the strangely sweet fragrance of cigarettes as his cock relentlessly
rammed her pussy.

   She looked at her watch and decided to go to Channel Six.  Mitch Rodriguez
might be ready early so she'd get the stupid interview out of the way.  Then
she'd go home and do something, anything to get her mind off Phil and the
disgusting sexual romps for which he created an appetite inside her head.

   Leaving her building through the main door she ran into the same three
female smokers.  The sweet smell of their ambient smoke did it.  Immediately
the fragrance turned her on.  With a groan she decided not to fight.  She
couldn't.  She stopped and smiled at the three girls.  She had to start up a
conversation with them.

   "Hey, thanks for the help earlier," Kathleen said pleasantly, secretly
enjoying whiffs of smoke that drifted her way.  She felt naughty talking to
smokers, treating them like people she actually cared about.  "What floor in
the building do you guys work on?"

   "Sixth floor," the tallest one said politely.  She held her cigarette
self-consciously by her side.  She felt nervous talking to a notorious
anti-smoker like the famous Kathleen Williams.  "We're with Robertson &
Wilkins, the accounting firm."

   Kathleen felt like an idiot but she wanted to keep the conversation going.
Their smoke smelled so sexy, so incredibly good.

   "Hmm, interesting.  So, do you come out here to smoke often?"  It was a
dumb question, but it was the best she could think of.

   "Smoking out here's not illegal," the second girl said defiantly as she
hit on her cigarette and released a voluminous exhale into the breeze.  The
wind carried it toward Kathleen who nearly swooned as the sweet scent drifted
by her nostrils.

   "I know it's not illegal to smoke here outside," she smiled, trying to
stay calm.  But the smell was so intoxicating.  "Uh, I was just curious.  So
I guess the no-smoking ordinance won't change much for you guys?"

   "Look, we already can't smoke in our office if that's what you mean," the
tallest girl said bitterly.  "They used to let us but that ended a couple
years ago thanks to the bad press you guys at SmokeFreeBayCity and other
antismoking groups give to smoking and those of who smoke."

   The smokers kept exhaling in Kathleen's direction, assuming it'd drive her
away.  To the contrary, renewed whiffs of smoke only increased her
exhilaration and arousal.

   "It's interesting that people like you guys keep smoking, isn't it?  Even
though you know it's so bad for you and everything?"

   "Hey," the second girl snapped.  "Don't patronize us, Ms. Williams.  We
know who you are and what you stand for.  You hate us because we're smokers,
because we smoke.  Well, we're not stupid.  So don't play nice and then talk
about us behind our backs like we're pariahs or something.  We're not.  We're
just people, you know.  We're just like you!"

   A shiver ran down Kathleen's spine.  God, if they only knew the truth of
that angry accusation.  She _was_ just like them.  Suddenly she wanted a
cigarette, to smoke and touch her pussy.  It took every effort for her not to
beg one of them for a cigarette and join them.

   "I'm not your enemy.  I'm really not.  You don't understand."

   "Oh, we understand," the tallest girl retorted.  "You're the one who
doesn't get it.  You don't.  We can't quit smoking."

   "And don't want to," the second girl added angrily.  "Yeah we smoke but we
like it.  Nonsmokers like you don't get it and never will."  Defiantly she
hit on her cigarette and exhaled at her supposed opponent.  "Don't pretend
you're our friend," she went on.  "You're not."

   Kathleen felt herself losing control.  On one level she wanted to fight,
to explain herself and her position.  But the tingling in her pussy was too
strong.  In truth she wanted to join them, to smoke with them.  But for
obvious reasons she couldn't.

   She bit her lip.  "Ladies, I'm not your enemy," she repeated.  "I'm sorry
you think so.  I gotta go.  I just wanted to thank you for your kindness when
I lost my papers.  That's all."

   "You're welcome," the second girl said spitefully.  "Smokers have manners,
you know.  We can be nice to you even though we know you hate us."

   "No, I don't," Kathleen heard herself say.  "No, I don't hate you at all.
I wish I could explain but I can't."

   It was no use.  They continued to snarl.  So she turned to leave, mad at
herself for talking to them, for wanting to smell their smoke, and for
feeling conflicted about a subject that till today she thought she was
committed to.

   When she got to Channel Six Mitch Rodriguez was ready.  Before she went on
camera, though, a makeup girl applied foundation and blush to her face.  Was
it her imagination or did she smell fresh smoke on the girl?  Kathleen wasn't
sure.  As the lovely female worked on her she imagined the pretty young
makeup girl with a long cigarette in hand, luxuriously smoking it.  God, she
wondered, why was she so obsessed with smoking?  She didn't know.  Eventually
she took a seat in the TV studio under hot lights and smiled pleasantly at
Mitch.

   "This will be on tomorrow night on `Bay City Nighttime,'" the handsome
talk show host explained before the cameras rolled.  "As always when I do an
interview, all questions are totally unrehearsed.  You're okay with that,
Kathleen?"

   "Does it make a difference?"

   "No," he laughed.  "I never rehearse my questions with guests, of course.
But I just wanted to restate the obvious."

   "Fire away, Mitch," she laughed.  "I'm ready for whatever you've got."

   The machine began recording.  Mitch gave his obligatory introductory
opening remarks before turning to his guest.

   "Now, Kathleen, before the referendum we talked a lot about the new
antismoking ordinance.  Now that you won, I want to ask about your group's
plans for the future."

   Oh God, she thought.  Here it comes.  He'll try to get me to commit in
public to stuff the steering committee hasn't decided.

   "I hear rumors that Bay City's antismoking coalition intends to go
statewide, that you want to form a larger coalition to lobby for a statewide
indoor smoking ban.  True or false?"

   "We've discussed it," she smiled.  "But my steering committee has decided
nothing."

   "How about this, Kathleen?  The coalition plans to seek another ordinance
to prohibit parents and other adults from smoking inside cars if children are
present.  True or false?"

   Kathleen startled.  She knew nothing about that idea.  She fumbled to
regain composure.  "Uh, it's news to me, Mitch.  The steering committee has
never discussed that as far as I know."

   "But you'd like to, wouldn't you?  SmokeFreeBayCity wants to make smoking
more off limits for everyone, even in private.  Isn't that right?  Isn't that
the logical next step?"

   "It depends," she fudged.  She had no intention of letting Mitch back her
into politically unpopular corners.  "We care about public health.  That's
all.  So yeah, we'll explore many potential next steps.  I'm simply saying
that a proposal to ban smoking in cars if children are present in the vehicle
is not one that I'm familiar with."

   "Answer the question, Kathleen," he said, winking at the camera.  "The
truth is, you and SmokeFreeBayCity aren't done, are you?  Sources close to
the steering committee tell me that one possibility is to amend the city
ordinance to prohibit smoking within 100 feet of all public buildings.  You
won't deny that, will you?"

   Into her head popped the image of three lovely girls smoking outside the
front door of her office building.  Walking by them turned her on.  She liked
the feeling.  It was true that her steering committee wanted to create
smoke-free zones outside all public buildings.  But all of a sudden she
didn't want to do it, not to them.  She didn't want them to stop smoking out
there.

   "Well, Kathleen?"

   "Uh, Mitch, it's too early to speculate on next steps," she said with a
winsome smile.  "We won the war.  That's what's important.  The steering
committee will discuss all possible options.  But first let's focus on
implementing the victory we got by winning the war.  It's over."

   "But tell me, Kathleen, your personal goals.  It's no secret your contract
is up next month.  Will you stay on at SmokeFreeBayCity?"

   "The steering committee will decide," she said softly.  "It's out of my
hands."

   "But you want to stay, don't you?"

   She hesitated.  Till last night, till today, she'd have given a strong
positive answer.  But as she thought it over she wasn't so sure.

   "Yeah, I want to stay but only if the situation is right; I suppose; I
mean, yeah, if it's right in every respect," she added pointedly.

   Mitch looked at the camera.  "I'm sure Ms Williams means the money must be
right," he smirked to his viewers.  "Like every big-time PR consultant she
wants to be financially rewarded."  He turned back to his guest.  "But tell
us your ideas, Kathleen.  I know you can't commit your steering committee,
not officially.  But tell our viewers some things _you'd_ like to get done if
the steering committee lets you do whatever you want under a new contract."

   She paused.  "Uh, I'm not sure, Mitch," she waffled but for reasons he
couldn't imagine.  "You assume that I lead SmokeFreeBayCity.  In truth, my
steering committee that represents the citizens of our fair city will set the
tone for the coming months and years."  She smiled.  It was the right thing
to say.  "As President I'm merely the one to implement the committee
directives.  I work for them, not the other way around."

   He probed for ten minutes with no success.  Kathleen refused to commit to
anything.  Finally the interview ended.  Once the camera and lights were off
Mitch took her aside.  He clearly was frustrated.

   "God, you were evasive, Kathy.  It's not like you.  Two weeks ago you went
on and on about new ideas for the battle against smoking.  Today you clammed
up.  Look, we all know the bar owners are finished.  Phil Wolfe and his
people couldn't match your fundraising to fight the referendum.  Surely they
won't put up a fight the next time.  Their ox got gored.  So you must have
more plans to screw the city's smokers.  In your next fight you won't have an
organized opponent."

   She smiled graciously.  "I have nothing to say, Mitch, on or off the
record.  Look, I'm trying to be a gracious winner.  I have no idea what my
steering committee will decide, if they want me to stay on or if I even want
to for that matter."

   "What?  You might not want to stay?"

   "Undetermined at this point, Mitch.  That's all I'll say, on or off the
record.  It hasn't been discussed.  I didn't say I won't stay on, or that I
don't want to.  You did."

   "One last question, Kathy, off the record.  Each time you're on my show
you wear the same string of pearls.  You wore them for every debate with Phil
Wolfe.  Today they're gone.  I figured they were a kind of good luck charm.
So, what happened to them?"

   God, her pearls!  Damn, she didn't get them fixed after Phil ripped them
off.

   "Simple, Mitch.  My necklace broke," she lied.  "I'm getting it fixed.
The pearls aren't gone, just temporarily out of service."

   "Just checking," Mitch laughed.  "But don't go soft on me, Kathy, soft on
smoking I mean.  Hell, you didn't need to answer my questions today.  But
sooner or later you'll tell me all you have planned to fight smoking in Bay
City.  I only want to break the story."

   "I know, Mitch.  I'm not being devious.  I truly don't know what'll
happen."  Shit, she sighed to herself silently.  I really don't.

   He grinned.  "Hey, Kathy, did you consider my proposal?  Want to have
dinner soon?"

   His shameless proposition roused her from her brooding and made her laugh.
"God, Mitch, you're incorrigible.  I already said I'm not hopping into your
bed."  She batted her eyes.  "After all it wouldn't be professional," she
teased.  "You still consider me a news source."

   "Can't blame me for trying," he laughed.  "You know I'm interested,
Kathleen.  I want us to fuck but I also want you to give me my next big story
about the smoking initiatives.  So let me know when you change your mind.
You will eventually."

   She gulped.  "Change my mind?  You mean about smoking?  God, what did you
mean, change my mind?"

   "I mean, change your mind about us going out."  He laughed.  "God, I
didn't mean you'd ever change your mind about smoking.  That won't happen!"

   "Oh," she sighed, relieved.  "No, of course not!"

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

   As she drove home Kathy checked cell phone messages.  There was only one,
from Brooke telling her of a call from Dr. Robbins wanting a reaction to the
statistical data he left for her to review.  Damn.  She hoped Phil would
call.

   "God, what's my problem?  Shit, isn't one fuck a day enough?"

   Truth was, it wasn't.  She couldn't stop thinking about their delicious
rendezvous by the beer truck before noon, or about his wicked promise of a
threesome with his lovely wife Teresa.

   At home Kathleen changed into sweats.  She was going to run but after
changing decided she didn't want to.  She didn't know what she wanted.  She
thought about renting a movie or getting together with friends, even going
back to the office.  Nothing sounded inviting.  She sighed.  She knew what
she really wanted.  She wanted to fuck Phil again.

   Desperate, she finally called his cell.  No answer.  She cursed and
slammed her phone on the table.  Fuck!  What the hell did Phil do to her?
Why was she so damn preoccupied?  She was miserable doing anything but seeing
him, and that wasn't possible.

   Then it hit her.  Shit, there was one thing she could do.  Suddenly it
appealed to her like nothing else.  She couldn't have Phil but she could
smoke.  Incredibly it seemed like the next best thing, the only desirable
alternative.

   "It's crazy," she said aloud.  "I can't.  I won't.  It's the dumbest thing
imaginable!"

   But once it occurred to her she couldn't shake it.  She imagined going to
the corner convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes.  She visualized
lighting up in her living room, touching herself while she smoked a cigarette
and letting it dangle from her mouth the same way Phil made her do it.

   "This is insane," she told herself.  "I'm against smoking.  I've made a
career out of being against smoking.  Shit, I convinced the whole fuckin'
city to vote against letting people smoke indoors in public buildings,
including restaurants and bars.  So what the hell am I thinking?"

   There was no answer to her frantic question.  But one fantasy inevitably
led to another, each more insane than the first.  The smoking ban didn't take
effect for several weeks.  So she imagined going to a bar, one of Phil's, and
lighting up a cigarette sitting on a barstool.  She imagined smoking it
dressed in her sexiest outfit, waiting for Phil to drag her into a back room
and fuck her brains out while they smoked together again.

   "God, I'm losing my mind!  I know.  I just need to get off."  Her hand
went inside her sweatpants but it was no use.  As she touched herself she
dreamed of smoking.  She couldn't shake it no matter how hard she tried.

   "I can't fight it," she acknowledged at last.  "Eventually I'll get tired
of Phil and of his perverted games.  But till then I can't shake this crazy
obsession.  Unless I give in I'll go nuts.  God, I may as well wave the white
flag and just do it.  Then it'll be over and I can get back to normal."

   She decided.  She'd go to the store.  But first she got a scarf.  She
pulled her hair up in a bun and wrapped it inside.  She looked in the mirror.
Her appearance looked totally different, which was good because she couldn't
let anyone see her buy cigarettes.

   Buy cigarettes?  She gulped.  God, was she gonna?  Yeah, she was.  She'd
buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke one.  Alone.  She shook her head.  No, she
couldn't.  It was insane, ridiculous.  It was against everything she stood
for, all the principles she valiantly fought for in the war she just won.
She couldn't let herself follow through on this insane plan.  No way!

   Ten minutes later Kathleen Williams pulled into a convenience store
parking lot.  She adjusted her scarf in the mirror.  She looked different
from her public persona.  It was good; no one would recognize her.  She
gulped.  She cursed and opened the car door.

   A lone girl stood behind the counter.  Kathleen looked.  No one else was
in the store.  Good.  It lessened the chance anyone would recognize her doing
this.  She walked up to the counter.  She wanted to buy Phil's brand.  But
God, what the hell was it?

   The girl behind the counter looked bored.  She popped her gum. "Yeah, can
I help you?"   Kathleen groaned.  The girl was cute, barely a day over 18,
which she had to be to sell cigarettes.  According to her nametag her name
was Cindy.

   "Uh, yeah," Kathleen mumbled.  "I need a pack of cigarettes.  But shit, I
can't remember the brand.  It's menthol, though.  I know it's menthol."

   "Newport?"

   "I don't know.  Can I see the pack?" she brightened.  "I'll know if I see
the pack."

   The girl pointed at a pack of Newport 100s in a counter display.  "These?"

   "No, not those."  God, what were they?  "Can I look at other kinds?"

   Cindy let out a frustrated sigh.  "Yeah, help yourself."

   "No, I mean, can I come behind the counter to look at them?"

   "I'm not supposed to let you behind the counter."  The girl popped her
gum.  "But who's to know?" she shrugged.  "Yeah, sure, come on back."

   Kathleen circled behind the counter and saw an endless array of packs and
brands.  "God, I don't know," she muttered.  "I didn't think it'd be so
hard."

   "Hey, don't sweat it," Cindy said, eager to it over with.  "Look,
menthol's menthol.  Just pick one, okay?  They're not that different from
each other.  This will help settle it.  Are the ones you're looking for
regulars, lights or ultra lights?"

   "Um, not lights or ultra lights.  I'm sure of it.  They must be regular
strength."

   "Okay, one hundreds or regular length?"  Cindy paused.  "I mean, are they
short or longer?"

   "They're 100s," Kathleen nodded.  "I'm sure of that too."

   "Fine, get these then," the girl grunted.  "They're menthol 100s.  I smoke
`em."

   Kathleen cocked her head.  The idea of this bored girl smoking was
suddenly surprisingly intriguing.  This girl understood.  "Really?  And what
are they?"

   The girl named Cindy sighed.  "Marlboro Menthol 100s.  Full flavor."  For
the first time she grinned.  She had a nice smile.  "I like `em; they're
good.  I've smoked `em for a couple years now.  If you want menthol I think
they're real nice," she said earnestly.

   Kathleen pulled out her wallet.  "You've smoked for a couple years?  God!
How old are you anyway?"

   "Turned 18 last month," the girl shrugged.  "It's four thirty-five with
tax, by the way."

   Kathleen sighed.  This girl who was named Cindy began smoking illegally.
Till recently she was too young to buy cigarettes.  Usually Kathleen would go
on a tirade.  But it didn't seem that important now.  She let it go.  "Oh,
and I need a lighter," she added.

   Cindy mutely pointed to a counter display.  Kathleen selected a red
disposable.

   "For the cigarettes and the lighter, it's six seventy seven."  She paused.
"I need ID."

   "What?"

   "I need to see ID."

   Kathleen froze.  ID?  It never occurred to her she'd need identification
to prove her age.  But she remembered, anyone under 30 is supposed to get
carded.  Damn.  She couldn't show her driver's license.  She couldn't.  The
girl named Cindy might recognize her name.

   "Uh, can't we do without the ID?"

   The girl blankly pointed to a sign overhead.  "No ID, no cigarettes.  It's
the law.  Sorry."

   "But how'd you get them?  You turned 18 last month but smoked Marlboro
Menthol 100s for a couple years.  How did that happen?"

   Cindy groaned.  "Look, I don't make the law.  I never said I like it.  I
don't.  It sucks.  But what can I do?  I lose my job if I don't ask; and if I
get fired my parents freak.  Look, I know you're over 18.  But the state runs
scams all the time.  You might be here to trap me.  So they say I have to
ask.  I need to see ID unless you're obviously over 30.  And you're not."

   "I'm 29," Kathy objected, proffering a ten-dollar bill.

   "Fine, you're 29," the girl said, popping her gum.  "Then let's see your
ID."

   Kathleen groaned.  She wanted cigarettes.  She had to have them.  She
couldn't go home without them.  Not now.  She shook her head.  Had to risk
it.  Maybe Cindy wouldn't recognize her.  Maybe she wouldn't connect her name
and face with the famous Kathleen Williams, the anti-smoking advocate on TV
all the time.

   She got out her driver's license and gave it to Cindy with no comment.
She stared blankly, looked at her and nodded.  "Okay, Ms. Williams.  It
wasn't so hard, was it?  Congratulations, you're legal."  She took the
ten-dollar bill and pushed a pack of Marlboro Menthol 100s across the counter
with the red disposable.  "The cigarettes and lighter are yours."

   No sign of recognition.  Kathleen felt relieved.  "Thanks, Cindy.  Thanks
for suggesting them.  I'm sure they'll be fine."  She slipped them in her
purse.  Now she felt like making small talk with the 18-year old clerk.
"After all, I suppose all menthols are the same, huh?"

   "Yeah, pretty much," the girl said, handing over her change.  "You don't
smoke much?"

   "Uh, why do you ask?"

   "Nobody does what you just did.  Nobody wants a special brand but can't
remember its name.  It's weird.  So you must not smoke much.  Right?"

   "Right," Kathleen nodded.  She didn't want questions but talked anyway.
"It's kind of an impulse thing.  See, I smoked with a friend of mine last
night and he shared his; I mean, we shared his cigarettes.  They tasted so
good that I thought I might try a pack myself."

   The girl suddenly grinned.  "Hey, wait a minute.  I know you!"

   Kathleen's face fell.  "Oh my God!  You do?"

   "Yeah, you're one of those people who never really smoked much, but you
got tricked into it and liked it despite yourself.  God, be careful," she
giggled.  "Pretty soon you find yourself hooked."  She smirked.  "Tonight you
buy one pack and pretty soon you're buying cigarettes by the carton."

   "Is that what happened to you?"

   "Sorta," Cindy grinned.  "Except, see, I don't mind.  I love to smoke now.
I don't want to quit.  You probably won't want to either.  It's how it goes."
She laughed.  "It's weird.  I never sold cigarettes to anyone like you,
someone who's old enough but who never tried smoking till she was older."

   "I smoked when I was your age," Kathleen heard herself admit.  "But I
quit."

   "But now you're back," the girl giggled.  "Well, what the hell?  Welcome
back, Kathleen Williams.  Glad to have you smoking with the rest of us
again."

   Kathleen cocked her head.  "You don't really know me, do you?"

   The girl shrugged.  "Nope, never seen you.  But I've heard of people like
you.  Know the type, know what you're in for.  You smoked years ago and
you're finally buying another pack now; you'll probably start all over."  She
hesitated.  "Not that it's so bad, despite what the assholes on TV say.
They're losers.  Smoking won't go away.  It's how it is.  Welcome back!"

   Kathleen left the store in a blur.  The girl didn't recognize her after
all.  Instead she read her future.  Back?  Was she back as a smoker?  Was
that it?  With trembling fingers she looked at the green and white pack
sitting in her car.  She smiled; it was a wicked grin.  God, she wanted these
damn things so fuckin' bad!  She didn't care about anything else.  She just
wanted to go home and light up a cigarette, and to smoke while she touched
herself.

   She went in her bedroom and with unsteady hands clicked the lighter after
she torn open the pack of Marlboro Menthol 100s.  No one had ever smoked in
her townhouse before.  She didn't care.  She had to do it.  So she'd be the
first!

   She put a cigarette in her lips and let it dangle.  She groaned.  Her
pussy was soaking wet.  Before she reconsidered she clicked the lighter and
raised it upwards.

   Ignition.  Like the old days when she smoked in high school.  But this was
different.  In those days she just smoked.  But this time she'd play with
herself, using the hand not holding her cigarette.  Brazenly she reached
inside her sweatpants and began to finger her pussy.  As the cigarette
dangled from her lips she groaned in delight.  She sucked on the Marlboro
Menthol 100 and pulled thick rich menthol smoke deep inside her lungs.  God,
it felt good!  It felt and tasted so fuckin' good to smoke while playing with
herself.  It reminded her of Phil fucking her!

   She rubbed harder, moaning with the cigarette between her lips.  Just like
in Phil's bedroom ashes fell from it onto her bed.  But she didn't give a
shit just like Phil didn't.  She loved it.  She loved being bad.  She worked
herself close to orgasm but for some reason couldn't cum.  What was wrong?

   She needed push herself over the edge, to do something to help her cum and
release her pent-up sexual tension.  God, but what?

   Suddenly she knew.  She knew exactly how to propel herself to orgasm.  She
had to do something even more atypical to prove she was a seriously bad girl.
From the bathroom she got a soap dish and converted it into a makeshift
ashtray.  She sat on her bed.  She sighed.  Her cigarette was nearly done.
Before she crushed it out she shook the next one from her pack and slid it in
her mouth.  Smoking two in a row should do it!  It'd prove she was
degenerate.  She used the cherry of her first one to ignite her second
Marlboro Menthol 100.  It caught.  She let it dangle luxuriously.  Smoke from
two cigarettes surrounded her.

   With the second cigarette still precariously hanging from her lips
Kathleen hit on them both simultaneously.  Then she crushed the spent one in
her makeshift ashtray while leaving the second one in her mouth.  She left it
there, dragging long and hard, sucking more smoke inside her insatiable
lungs.  She felt so nasty doing that.  She laughed.  God, it was working!
Yeah, it was time; time to say the wicked words she knew would push her over
the edge and finally, gloriously, let her cum.  She positioned herself so she
could see herself in the mirror by her dressing table.  She grinned at the
bad girl reflected there with a cigarette in her mouth.

   Furiously fingering her pussy Kathleen took an extra long drag, letting
the cigarette dangle as she inhaled smoke as deep as she could.  "God, if
Phil saw this he'd be so fuckin' proud of me," she said aloud.  "Yeah, this
is it.  Shit, it's working.  Yeah, it's doing it.  Smoking two cigarettes in
a row is gonna let me cum.  All I need to do is say the magic words!"

   Intuitively she knew that she had to say them out loud, to let her pussy
know what she was doing, how she was being so wicked, so evil, so totally
degenerate.

   She took a deep breath.  "I'm a smoker again," she whispered with a
naughty giggle.  "I'm smoking.  No one's making me do it.  I'm smoking
because I love it.  God, I fuckin' love to smoke.  Shit, it's the best.  I
fuckin' _love_ to smoke!"

   She shivered as she said the words.  It was working; it was building
nicely inside of her.

   "Yeah, I love to smoke.  Phil would love this, to see me smoking alone
this way and enjoying it so much."  She groaned; smoke spurted from her lips.
"He'd fuckin' love it.  He'd say it's fuckin' hot, and it is.  It's hot that
I'm smoking and that I want to.  Yeah, I want to smoke more than anything!"
Vaginal spasms intensified.  She was cumming.  She hit on her cigarette,
overcome by wave after glorious wave of pleasure.  "Ooh God!  Fuck!  Oh Jesus
fuckin' God!!  Shit!  I'm fuckin' cumming," she screamed ecstatically.  "Ooh,
God almighty, that's it, yeah!!!"

   Too soon it was over.  She dropped to the bed, exhausted.  Never had she
masturbated that effectively, that powerfully, or had as much fun doing it
solo.  She came half a dozen times, each one stronger than the orgasm before.
It was great.  She felt worn out, tired but happy.

   She put her head on her pillow and sighed.  God, she was exhausted.
Exhausted but good.  Damn good!  She laughed remembering Phil's comment the
night before:  The enjoyment provided by an after-sex cigarette was exquisite
and should never be missed.

   Without a second thought she grabbed her Marlboro Menthol 100s and
lighter.  She lit up another one.  She sucked on the cigarette and inhaled.
The smoke traveled deep inside her lungs.  God, Phil was right!  Right again.
So right!  Yeah, it was incredible.  The smoke felt so good.  Kathleen
happily smoked the entire cigarette down to the filter, before crushing it in
her makeshift ashtray and falling sound asleep.

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