The Transformation of Angela, Part 1

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 2004 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 TRANSFORMATION OF ANGELA

1.	Prologue and Minnesota Trip.

   I heard a noise and looked up from my laptop.  Angela was in the doorway.
I smiled.  She was wearing the same outfit she wore to the office, the clingy,
navy blue ribbed turtleneck that I love and a tight fitting, little black
leather skirt.  The sweater was too snug, its fabric gracefully but
unmistakably highlighting her big tits.  The black skirt was too short and far
too tight.  I didn't mind.  It elegantly drew attention to her perfect thighs
and her firm round ass.

   Angela walked coyly to the couch and sat down a scant six feet away from
me.  With a ceremonial flourish, she pushed her blond hair back, letting her
locks cascade gracefully over her shoulders.  Clearly she wanted me to have an
unobstructed view of her beautiful face.  She flashed me a serene smile.  As
always, Angela looked lovely.  She was so innocent, so angelic, so absolutely
fuckin' delectable!

   "Am I interrupting anything, John?"

   I nodded my head, though a smile covered my face.  "Yeah.  Ordinarily I
wouldn't mind, hon.  But I have to finish this so I can email it to a client
tonight."

   She frowned with a resentful nod.  It was a definite pout, mere sulking
acquiescence to necessity, clearly begrudgingly given.

   She sighed.  Then she smiled.  "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

   "No, of course not."  

   With nary a word Angela reached in her purse.  After fishing for a moment
she got out a half empty soft pack of Salem 100's.  Each movement was
calculated, deliberate.  There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she slid
one of the long one hundred millimeter cigarettes in between her red lips.

   "God, I really need a cigarette right now!"  Her comment was almost too
pointed.  She readied her lighter.  "I hope it won't bother you?"

   Bother me?  I loved seeing my gorgeous wife smoke.  She knew that.  And
despite what I said, I couldn't help it.  My eyes focused on her lovely face
instead of my laptop.  As I watched, the beautiful blond sitting on the sofa
connected a dancing flame from her lighter to the tobacco tip of the long
white cigarette that delicately hung from her bulbous lips.  It caught, and
her cheeks hollowed inside out.  That energetic first drag soon evolved into a
rabidly powerful double-pump.  Smoke oozed from Angela's mouth and nostrils
around her dangling cigarette.  A look of quiet contentment simultaneously
enveloped her pretty face.

   Angela moaned in a blissful quiet whisper that was a bit _too_ deliberate.
"Oh, God!  Yeah, this tastes _so_ fuckin' good!"  She batted her eyes and
looked directly at me through the smoky haze enveloping her face.  "Are you
sure you won't join me?"

   She had me.  I couldn't resist.  No way.  I moved over to her side and
silently sat next to her on the couch.  Taking the cigarette from her lips
Angela held it up to mine.

   "Now smoke this for me, honey," she directed.  It was a demure whisper, and
she exhaled as she talked.  "Smoke this delicious cigarette for me, baby.
Show me that you love to smoke almost as much as I do!"

   Angela languidly held the cigarette out for me between her long fingers.  I
wrapped my lips around the lipstick stained white filter.  Her eyes flashed
delighted approval as my suction summoned thick rich smoke into my mouth and
then down into my chest as I inhaled.

   "Oh yeah, honey!  Mm, that's nice," she purred sympathetically.  "That's a
good boy!  Yeah, come on, show Angela how much you love doing this with me.
God, isn't it wonderful?  Isn't it good?  Sure, of course it is.  Smoke's
always so fuckin' delicious!  Right?"

   Slowly I exhaled mentholated smoke from her cigarette through my mouth and
nose as Angela returned her cigarette to her own lips.  Her angelic visage
transformed into a decidedly devilish one.  She drew hard on her cigarette and
let it dangle from her lips.  Shamelessly her hand fell to my crotch.  She
gave my cock a playful squeeze.

   "I thought you were going to work on your contract?" she teased
mercilessly, releasing wisps of glorious succulent smoky substance through
smiling lips.  "Would you rather work, or instead will you join me for some
yummy smoky sex?"  She hit again on the cigarette and her cheeks caved in once
more.  The cigarette drooped as she inhaled more of the smoke into her lungs.
"Don't you like this a hell of a lot better than working on that pathetic
contract?"

   Gently I took the cigarette from her mouth.  She smiled like a Cheshire
cat, a beautiful devil tempting her prey with a smoky grin.  "I can work
later," I quietly offered, hitting on her cigarette myself while my free hand
found her breasts.  "Right now I want to fuck and smoke."

   "Me, too, John," Angela giggled impishly.  "Me, too!"

   As we disrobed amidst the smoky mist I thought about how far we'd come in
almost a year.  Only a year earlier that picture of smoky bliss would've been
the farthest thing from my mind.  People often say the journey, enjoying it,
is more important than the destination.  It was true in my case.  I enjoyed
every step along the way, seeing Angela transformed from a beautiful
non-smoker into what she'd finally become, my gorgeous, hopelessly
nicotine-addicted bride who delighted in her smoking obsession.  Let me share
the story with you.

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

   Bill Johnson called me to his office on a Thursday afternoon in late
January.  As a fifth year associate at Caldwell, Williams & Gump, a
prestigious Nashville law firm, I worked with Bill for corporate clients who
bought other companies.  For weeks we were getting ready to close the
acquisition of a distribution business in Minneapolis for our longtime client
Grand Corp.  Bill was the lead lawyer, but I'd worked a lot with the client
myself.

   He smiled as I walked in.  "Hey, John.  This morning Randy Rogers at Grand
Corp. asked if I could send you to Minneapolis to close the deal without me.
Randy has lots of confidence in you.  Are you comfortable handling this
closing alone?"

   "Yeah, sure."  It was a huge compliment.  I relished the chance to close a
deal by myself for an important client like Grand Corp.  "I can definitely
handle it."

   "Good.  You drafted most of the closing documents anyway.  So it probably
makes sense for you to go.  But you'll need help on the real estate side."

   I agreed.  The distribution business Grand Corp. was buying was unusual.
It owned several real estate investment properties.  "But we have local
counsel in Minneapolis looking at the real estate transfers, don't we?"

   "Sure, but Randy still wants someone from here to look over the shoulders
of our local counsel.  So I asked Angela Sinclair to go with you to
Minneapolis tomorrow."

   "Angela Sinclair?  But she's just a paralegal!"

   "Yeah, but she's a damn good paralegal.  Angela reviewed all the deeds,
title policies, easements, mortgage releases and so on.  She'll go along just
to make sure the real estate piece of the deal is done right."  Bill looked
up.  "Ah, here's Angela now."

   I turned.  In the doorway was the lovely Angela Sinclair with a coffee cup
in hand.  I didn't know her well, but we'd had some contact in my five years
at Caldwell.  In her mid twenties, Angela came to our firm out of paralegal
school a year before I did.  I always felt she was uncommonly attractive.
Angela had an almost angelic quality.  Quiet and reserved, there was a strange
calm about her that made her physical appearance that much more appealing.  On
that day she had on a beige blouse and navy blue slacks.  The slacks were
tight.  Her clothes often fit a bit too snugly.  Despite her angelic face, I
thought she liked showing off her firm ass.  The head of our HR department
once said Angela dressed more like a cocktail waitress than a law firm
professional.  Well, maybe, but no men I knew at the firm ever complained!

   "Angela, you and John are going to Minneapolis together for the closing
tomorrow.  I assume you'll coordinate all the details this afternoon so the
closing goes smoothly."

   She nodded and sipped her coffee.  "John and I will make sure the deal
closes, Mr. Johnson."

   So that afternoon Angela and I prepared for our flight the next morning.
In my briefcase I had the corporate papers and she had the real estate files
in hers.  Her reserved and detached personal manner made our preparation
almost antiseptically professional.  I felt attracted to her but certainly she
couldn't have known.

   Since my divorce a couple years earlier I hadn't dated.  I spent my time
billing hours at the firm, not searching for love.  I was the rising star in
the corporate group.  My billings were the highest for lawyers my age.  My
only possible negative was an unabashed smoking habit.  I regularly visited
the firm's smoke room, set aside for all the pariahs unable to kick the habit.
Only a handful of us frequented it.  But if the partners minded my smoking
habit no one said so.  I honestly think the firm didn't care about my personal
life as long as I billed lots of hours and made the partners money.

   Angela wasn't among those who frequented the smoking room.  She wasn't a
smoker.  That was too bad.  She was one of the most attractive women at our
firm.  For a long time I'd had a fetish attraction to beautiful smoking women.
The last couple years, my only sexual release while working incessantly was my
large collection of smoking videos and my regular visits to the smoke room.  I
loved my smoking videos.  I had a ton of 'em.  But that's another story.  Even
though Angela wasn't a smoker, I still felt she was damn attractive.  It was a
turn-on to travel to Minneapolis with her.

   Our plane left at 8:00 am Friday.  I frantically smoked a couple cigarettes
outside the terminal before going in.  I'd need to abstain most of the rest of
the day.  It wouldn't be easy.  I smoked over a pack of Benson & Hedges 100's
a day.  When I met Angela at the gate I'm sure I reeked of cigarette smoke.
If she noticed she didn't say anything.  But I was the lawyer and she was just
the paralegal.  It would've been cheeky for her to comment about it, and in
those days Angela was always reserved.

   When we got to Minneapolis it was snowing.  The forecast was for more with
lots of accumulation.  For the first time I wondered if we'd get out of town
that afternoon.  But I didn't mention it.  Instead during the cab ride
downtown we talked about the same thing we did on the plane, our preparations
for the closing at our local counsel's offices in Minneapolis.

   The closing went smooth as silk.  Local counsel relinquished control of the
closing table to me, and I handled it pretty damn well.  Angela spent the
morning and early afternoon reviewing all the deeds, title policies, surveys,
mortgage releases and real estate closing papers.  Meanwhile I negotiated a
few last minute changes to the purchase contract.  By two o'clock we were
ready to sign the documents, which was good since the deadline to wire funds
was two.

   Our local counsel turned to me.  "It's snowing hard, John.  You, Angela and
Randy may want to think about heading to the airport early.  With this
snowstorm I'm not sure you'll make it out of Minneapolis today if you wait
till we get final confirmation that the wire's been received."

   I turned to Randy Rogers, our client.  "What do you think, Randy?  Are you
comfortable taking off early?"

   "I'm staying the weekend to start transitioning the business," he grumbled.
"But I'd like you to stick around till the funds are received.  If the wire
doesn't make it we'll need to prepare escrow documents to hold us over the
weekend."

   I nodded.  Randy was right.  Until we knew the money was received it wasn't
smart to go.  The whole point of being there was to make sure the deal was
totally closed.

   "Angela and I will stick around," I told our local counsel.  "But maybe you
can get a car to take us to the airport about four.  That way we won't have to
wait for a cab in the snowstorm."

   At three forty-five we got word the wire cleared.  Angela and I had packed
our briefcases and were ready to go.  As I suggested, our local counsel had a
car waiting in front of the building to take us to the airport.  We hurried
down the elevator of the high rise and stepped outside.  It was snowing like
mad.

   I paused.  The lovely paralegal stood beside me with a styrofoam cup of
coffee in hand.  "Angela, I hate to say this, but I need to smoke a cigarette
before we get in the car.  I haven't had one since this morning and frankly I
don't know if I can make it any longer."

   A curious shy smile tugged at the corners of her pretty mouth.  "No
problem, John.  I understand.  As a kid I grew up in a house full of smokers.
It doesn't bother me.  Another five minutes won't hurt anything.  Go ahead;
feed your habit."

   Due to the terrible weather it wasn't the best smoking situation, but it
was still nice to finally replenish the nicotine my system craved.  I smoked
my cigarette hurriedly, almost frantically, while making small talk with
Angela.

   As soon as I was done we jumped in the limo and headed straight for the
airport.  Unfortunately traffic was at a standstill.  A trip that should've
taken half a hour lasted closer to an hour and a half.  Near the end of the
trip I called the airline on my cell phone and learned that all United's
flights out of the Twin Cities that evening had already been canceled.
"Damn," I muttered as I clicked off the phone.  "Looks like we're gonna be
stuck here tonight."

   "Do you want me to head back downtown?" the driver asked helpfully.  "It
might be hard finding hotel rooms at the airport this evening."

   I looked at my watch.  If we turned around and went back it'd be another
hour till I could smoke, and frankly I already needed to again.  So I didn't
want to wait.  "No," I finally said.  "We'll take our chances at the airport.
Just find us a hotel that's nearby so we can catch the first plane out
tomorrow morning."

   The driver headed for a Hilton adjacent to the terminals.  But I noticed a
Holiday Inn and suggested he drive there instead.  I figured a Holiday Inn
would be less appealing to stranded business travelers and we'd have a better
chance of securing rooms there.

   As we approached, a shuttle bus was approaching the Holiday Inn from the
other direction through the driving snow.  It moved slowly, full of stranded
travelers hoping to stay at the hotel.  I leaned forward.  "I'll give you an
extra twenty if you get us to the hotel before that damn shuttle bus."

   The driver nodded.  He understood.  Speeding up he careened crazily down
the slippery road and turned into the circular driveway from the wrong
direction, pulling up to the front door thirty seconds ahead of the shuttle
bus.  Sure enough, it was standing room only in the shuttle.  Undoubtedly all
the people inside were about to seek rooms at our Holiday Inn.

   "Angela, just as soon as the car stops, jump out and run in the hotel.  Get
in line ahead of all the people on the shuttle bus.  Meanwhile I'll pay the
driver and get our briefcases.  Okay?"

   She smiled.  "Got it.  Good idea, John.  I sure don't want to sleep in the
airport tonight."

   "Me, neither," I quickly agreed.

   Our driver stopped at the entrance and Angela ran for the door.  Rooms were
going to be at a premium.  Already a line of people had formed at the
registration desk.  It looked like a brilliant move on my part to make sure
she got there ahead of that shuttle bus.

   I paid our driver, including the extra twenty I promised, and sauntered
past the dozens of people coming from the shuttle.  Sure enough, Angela was
near the head of the line, three from the registration desk.  She smiled
broadly as I walked up to join her.

   "You're a genius, John," she grinned.  "If we were even a minute later we'd
be behind all the people on that bus.  Listening to the conversations going on
ahead of us, they don't have many rooms left.  You were right.  The Hilton
across the way is already full.  I guess there's lots of us stranded here in
Minneapolis.  Nothing's taking off till morning."

   "Thanks, Angela.  Keep your fingers crossed.  It looks like we're almost
there."

   They called for the next people in line.  Angela and I stepped up.  "We
need two rooms for tonight," I said as I handed over my credit card.  "One
smoking and one non-smoking."

   The clerk frowned and looked at her computer screen.  "I'm afraid we only
have one room left," she mumbled, hitting a key several times as if she
couldn't believe it.  "Yeah, this is definitely the last one."

   "But we need two rooms," Angela pleaded, a hint of panic in her voice.  "He
and I aren't together."

   "I only have one room," she repeated.  "Do you want it?  If not, someone
behind you will be delighted to take it."  The hotel clerk smiled
sardonically.  "And don't worry, sir.  It's a smoking room," she added
derisively.

   I smiled at the clerk.  "We'll take it," I assured her, pushing my credit
card across the counter.  I turned to Angela.  "We'll just have to make do.  I
can sleep in one bed and you can sleep in the other."

   "Uh, this room just has one king-size bed," the clerk muttered as she input
my credit card information.  "Sorry 'bout that."

   "Well, can we get a cot put in the room?"

   She attended to the computer keyboard.  "Uh, no, all our cots are already
in use."  She smiled contemptuously.  "You're not the only ones who need beds
tonight, you know."

   "Then I'll sleep on the floor," I assured Angela.  "I can take a blanket
and pillow and make myself comfortable there.  You'll get the bed.  It'll be
fine.  Anyway, it beats sleeping in the airport.  Don't you think?"

   Angela sighed.  It was a sigh of frustration.  She obviously wasn't crazy
about staying in the same room.  And I understood.  It was going to be awkward
as hell.  "Yeah, you're right, John," she finally agreed.  "At least we're
better off than all the poor people behind us."

   I signed the credit card slip and the clerk gave us our room cards.  We
headed for the elevator and went to the fifth floor.  Our room was indeed a
smoking room.  It had ashtrays on the desk and by the bedside.  I felt my
nicotine cravings screaming.  I smiled guiltily at Angela.  "Hey, I really
need to smoke again," I apologized.  "Do you mind?"  

   She walked over to the coffee maker and started it up.  "I told you before,
John.  I grew up in a house full of smokers.  It won't bother me.  Go ahead."

   So I did.  I lit up a cigarette and felt the familiar welcome relief that I
so needed.  As I reluctantly exhaled my second drag Angela abruptly groaned.

   "God, John, I just realized.  We weren't supposed to stay overnight so I
didn't bring anything with me to wear.  I have nothing to sleep in tonight but
the clothes I'm wearing."

   "Hmm, me neither."  Suddenly an idea occurred to me.  "But we can visit the
hotel gift shop.  I bet they have tee shirts or sweat shirts or something we
can wear.  I'll make an executive decision.  If you want, the firm will buy
you a Golden Gophers tee shirt to sleep in tonight."

   She gave me a sarcastic smile.  "Yeah, but I'm wearing a skirt," she
complained.  "And I'm sure not going to let you see me in a tee shirt with no
pants, John.  Even if you sleep on the floor it'll be a damn awkward
arrangement."

   I'd never heard Angela use a swear word.  I liked hearing it.  It made me
feel she was less angelic than she appeared.  

   "I'll go in the bathroom when it's time for you to change clothes and get
in bed," I chivalrously offered, tapping an ash from my cigarette into the
ashtray.  "I'm not a pervert, you know, Angela.  I never need to see what you
have on."  Or what you don't have on, I thought.

   She groaned.  "It's not an ideal setup.  But yeah, we need to deal with it,
I guess.  We'll work something out.  I appreciate you being willing to sleep
on the floor.  That's very considerate."  She watched me exhale another stream
of smoke.  "Hey, I don't know about you, John, but I'm starving.  Those
bastards at our local counsel's office didn't give us much lunch.  So what do
you say we go downstairs and get ourselves some dinner?"  She looked at the
coffee maker.  The water still wasn't hot.  "I'll get some coffee in the
restaurant.  This thing's taking forever.  Anyway, we don't want to go to bed
yet.  I mean, shit.  It's only six o'clock."

   Angela's unashamed use of the 's' word encouraged me.  She wasn't as
reserved and innocent as I thought.  Her suggestion about dinner also sounded
good.  If we got a table in the smoking section I could continue to feed my
ravenous cravings and reload more of the nicotine I needed into my
smoke-famished body.

   In ten minutes we were at a table in the smoking section of the hotel's
restaurant.  Angela asked for coffee but then I boldly suggested that we order
drinks.  "The firm will pay for us to enjoy some well-deserved liquid
refreshment under these circumstances.  Are you game?"

   She was.  Angela ordered a gin and tonic; I got a Jack Daniels on the
rocks.  As the waitress brought the drinks I lit up another cigarette.  Angela
looked at me curiously.

   "How much do you smoke, John?"

   "Oh, I dunno," I fibbed.  "A pack a day, I guess, sometimes a little more.
I know it's not good for me but I really do enjoy it.  It's my only real
vice."

   She sipped her drink.  "You and my big sister Heather would get along
famously," she grinned.  "That sounds just like what she always says."

   "So your sister smokes?"

   Angela nodded.  "I told you, I grew up in a house full of smokers.  That's
why it doesn't bother me.  Never has.  Both my parents smoke and have as long
as I can remember.  My sister Heather's two years older.  She started smoking
at 16.  In high school I had three smokers around me all the time."

   I took a long draw on my cigarette.  God, I loved having this kind of
discussion with such a gorgeous woman.  "So, Angela, if you big sister smokes
and your parents obviously didn't mind too much, then why didn't you start?
Or did you?"

   Angela sipped once more and shook her head.  "Nope, never did.  I don't
know why exactly.  I suppose it was because Heather was smoking.  I didn't
want to be just like her.  I really don't know why I didn't, to be honest."
She smiled.  "Of course, smoking really _is_ bad for you.  So it's probably a
good thing that I never started.  Because I'd almost certainly be just as
addicted as they all are if I had."

   I gave an officious nod, but beneath the tablecloth my dick was stiffening.
"Yeah, it's a real nasty habit in many ways," I acknowledged.  "But you know
what?  I find it's a nearly perfect habit in others.  For instance, when I
feel depressed a cigarette's a great pick-me-up.  On the other hand, if I feel
edgy or tense smoking a cigarette immediately calms me down."  I took another
drag.  "So whatever my mood is, I almost always feel better if I can smoke."
I purposely exhaled above Angela's head.  "It's amazing, really, if you think
about it."

   Angela laughed.  With each sip of her gin and tonic she continued to loosen
up.  "God, I really should introduce you to Heather," she giggled happily.
"You could be her twin when it comes to how you two feel about smoking."

   Yeah, well, Angela honey, if your sister Heather's as gorgeous and sexy as
you, I'd fuckin' love to meet her.  But to Angela I smiled and said, "Sure,
I'd love to meet your sister.  Does she live in Nashville?"

   Angela nodded, again sipping her drink.  "No, Heather and her husband Tom
live in Knoxville."  She saw my face fall.  "Oh my God," Angela said, her
mouth agape.  "I'm sorry.  You thought I wanted to fix you up?"

   "Well, I didn't know.  But yeah, I sort of thought that.  I'd still enjoy
meeting Heather, though.  So many people who smoke these days are too damn
gloomy about it.  I don't like that.  I feel if I'm gonna smoke, and I am, I
may as well enjoy doing it and not apologize."

   "Then you'd like Heather and Tom, and my folks, too," Angela effused.
"They sound just like you when they talk about smoking."

   At that point our waitress interrupted, asking if we wanted to order
dinner.  We did, and the subject of smoking was regrettably left behind.  We
finished our drinks and ate dinner.  Angela indeed had her coffee with her
meal.  The whole time we kept chatting about anything and everything.  Angela
seemed comfortable, and I was, too.  A drink will do that.  As I finished I
pushed my plate back and got out my Benson & Hedges 100's, looking forward to
the after dinner smoking experience every smoker relishes.  But what happened
next shocked me.

   "Hey, John," Angela asked mischievously, putting her napkin on the table to
signify that she was done eating, too.  "Do you think I could have one of
those?"

   "But I ?.  I thought you said you don't smoke?"

   "I don't," Angela laughed irreverently.  "What I meant is, I don't smoke
out of habit like you do.  But I occasionally join my sister and her husband,
or my folks, for a cigarette, especially after a drink or two."  She grinned.
"I'd like an after-dinner drink.  How about you?"

   At that moment I'd have ordered anything to encourage the gorgeous blond at
my table to smoke.  "Sure, sounds great, Angela.  Let's get our waitress and
do it."

   We both ordered coffee liqueurs.  I waited till the waitress brought them
before lighting up.  I wanted Angela to fully enjoy her smoking experience.
It was a good thing the tablecloth hid her view of my cock.  It was at full
attention waiting to see Angela indulge.

   She sipped her coffee liqueur and smiled.  "Now, John, how about that
cigarette?"

   "Coming right up," I grinned back.  I shook one from my gold pack of Benson
& Hedges and handed it to her.  "I hope this will be okay.  Mine are kind of
strong."

   Angela raised the unlit cigarette to her full lips.  "Heather smokes full
flavor cigarettes.  But she smokes Newports so hers are menthols.  Don't
worry.  This'll be fine.  For me it's mostly just the social aspect of smoking
a cigarette when I have a drink."

   I held out my lighter and politely lit her up.  Angela took a modest first
drag on the cigarette, inhaled shallowly, and smiled.  "Thank you," she said,
beginning to exhale.

   Under the tablecloth I was stiff as a rod.  But I casually lit up my own
B&H.  "Oh, don't worry, Angela, you're very welcome," I replied graciously.
"There's a real nice social dynamic involved in sharing a cigarette with
another person over drinks after a good meal."  I wanted her to know I enjoyed
her indulging along with me.

   Angela just nodded.  "I agree, John.  Whenever my boyfriend and I went out
for drinks and dinner with Heather and Tom, I always had a cigarette with
Heather after we ate."

   "Oh.  You have a boyfriend?"

   "Had," she corrected me with a rueful grin.  "He and I broke up a few weeks
ago.  He was such a controlling bastard," she bitterly muttered.  "I'm glad to
finally be rid of him."

   I watched the gorgeous blond drag on her cigarette.  For only an occasional
smoker Angela had a decent smoking style.  Her puffs weren't too short and she
actually inhaled the smoke, though not nearly as deeply as I did.  But it was
still a delight to behold, more than I ever expected to see.

   We continued to chat over our liqueurs, and I smoked a second cigarette.
Unfortunately, this time Angela didn't join me.  But she was clearly having a
great time and seemed to truly enjoy my company.  I was really turned on.  I
found myself hoping maybe I wouldn't need to sleep on the floor after all.

   I suggested we retire to the hotel bar for a nightcap before heading back
upstairs.  With the time change and the day's strenuous events, I knew Angela
was tired.  I hoped to flirt with her a little more before it was time to
finally retire.

   Happily, Angela agreed.  We sat at the bar and she ordered a glass of red
wine.  I joined her.  She was kind enough to share my indulgence earlier.  How
could I not now share her drink of choice?

   One glass of wine turned into two, and finally a third.  For another hour
we laughed and talked, and the whole time Angela kept loosening up.  Her
laughter became loud and boisterous, and her formerly reserved language was
peppered with irreverent nouns and adjectives.  She wasn't drunk, though she
clearly felt good.  But then, so did I.

   As the bartender brought our third glasses of wine, I decided to
unashamedly urge her to smoke with me again.  "Come on, Angela," I chided
mercilessly.  "Don't be such a wimp.  You can have one more cigarette.  It
won't kill you, you know."

   She giggled with a decidedly impish look in her eyes.  "Okay, Mr. John
Wilton Conrad III," she teased, using my full name.  "One more.  But that's
all."  She accepted another cigarette from me.  "You're making me so bad
tonight."

   I lit her up.  As before, she drew modestly but firmly on her cigarette
before inhaling the smoke.  "You're not being bad, Angela," I answered with a
grin.  "You're just enjoying yourself.  And there's nothing wrong with
enjoying yourself.  Hell, you may as well, since you're stuck in the goddamn
city of Minneapolis with nothing to wear to bed."

   "Fuck," she muttered.  "I forgot about that.  I hope the damn gift shop
hasn't closed yet."

   The bartender was only a few feet away.  "Uh, unfortunately it closed a
half hour ago," he informed us.  "It opens again tomorrow morning at nine."

   "Damn," Angela grumbled.  Suddenly she grinned wickedly.  "John, I guess
that means I have to sleep in my underwear.  You have to hide your eyes while
I crawl under the covers."

   "It won't be easy," I teased back.  "You're incredibly beautiful, you know,
Angela.  You're smart, funny, charming and pretty as hell, too.  I've had a
great time tonight."

   Suddenly she became quiet.  "Yeah, me, too," she admitted, pausing to hit
on her cigarette.  "I've had a really nice time, John."  She exhaled a thin
stream of smoke from her lips.  "You're a great guy.  I'm surprised someone as
nice as you doesn't have a steady girlfriend."

   Now we were getting somewhere.  I leaned closer.  "If I ever do have a
girlfriend again, it has to be someone as smart, as funny and as beautiful as
you, Angela," I said softly.  "I really mean it.  You're amazing."

   She tapped an ash in the ashtray.  "You're sweet to say that, John.  I've
been depressed since I broke up with my boyfriend, Hal.  I started to think
that maybe I was destined to never go out with anyone but losers."  She smiled
at me.  "But if someone who's good looking and fun to be with, like you, if
you think I'm okay then maybe there's hope."

   I leaned closer still.  "I think you're great, Angela.  Seriously."

   There was magic in the air.  Angela sensed it, but I think it frightened
her.  She nervously looked at her watch.  "Oh my God.  It's after nine.
That's after ten our time.  It's been a long day.  We should get upstairs and
get some sleep."

   I was ready to go, hopeful that things would soon get truly interesting.
We finished our wine and I paid the tab.  We walked out into the lobby.  "Hey,
there's a newsstand," I said.  "And it's still open.  I need to buy myself
more cigarettes.  We can also see if they have a tee shirt you can sleep in."

   Unfortunately they didn't.  Angela looked at the magazine rack while I went
up to the counter and asked for a pack of Benson & Hedges 100's.  I truly was
nearly out.  But I quietly made another purchase just in case, a pack of
Trojans.  Better to be prepared than not.

   When we returned to our room I wasn't sure what would happen.  I felt
nervous and excited at the same time.  So I did what I always do when I'm
nervous.  I lit up again.

   Angela put her purse on the bed and turned to face me.  "So, John, what in
the hell are we gonna do about our sleeping arrangements?"

   "I dunno.  I guess you use the bathroom first.  Then I'll go in there so
you can get undressed and get under the covers.  Just let me know when you're
ready.  I don't need to get undressed.  I don't mind sleeping in my clothes."
Walking to the bed I picked up a pillow and pulled off the comforter.  "I'll
make a little nest with these," I went on, piling them up in a corner.  "Then
as soon as we're both ready, I can turn off the lights."

   Angela just smiled.  "I have a better idea."  She walked up and stared me
straight in the eyes.  "I hate for you to sleep on the floor, John," she
purred mysteriously.  Her mouth was inches from mine.  "Maybe instead you
should sleep with me in the bed.  Would you like to?"

   My hormones were screaming, kiss her!  But I froze.  Instead I dragged on
my cigarette, which in retrospect was probably a dumb thing to do with a
beautiful non-smoker standing only inches away.  But Angela just grinned.

   "Whenever you're nervous you always smoke, John.  I've noticed that.  Are
you nervous right now?"

   "A little."

   "Hmm.  Well, maybe I can fix that."  I wasn't done exhaling but the
beautiful blond nonetheless put her hands on the sides of my head.  Pulling my
face toward hers she gently kissed my lips.  It was brief but affectionate.
"Did that make you feel less nervous?"

   "Yeah," I grinned happily.  "But doing it again would make me feel even
better."

   "Uh-huh, I bet it would.  Let's try it and see."  We kissed a second time,
longer and more passionately.  Her arms were wrapped around me and she
fervently pushed her supple body against mine.  "You know, John, I think
'excited' better describes your condition than nervous."  She giggled
naughtily and pressed her torso against me, feeling the stiffness in my cock.
"Am I right?"

   "Oh my God, Angela, I'm so excited I can hardly stand it," I groaned.  "I
want you so bad."  We kissed like teenagers, frantically groping each others'
bodies.  I dropped my cigarette into an ashtray and we tumbled onto the
king-size bed.  "I've been lusting after you all day."

   "Yeah, I know," she laughed wickedly.  "It's been so nice to see.  God, I
love seeing a gorgeous guy like you turned on by being with me."  We continued
fondling each other.  "I saw you buy that pack of condoms," she giggled.  "We
definitely need 'em."  She pulled back, stopping to look deep into my eyes.
"Because I want to fuck.  How 'bout you?"

   Hearing Angela use the 'f' word filled me with raging desire.  I kissed her
again and managed to get my hand underneath her sweater.  I squeezed one of
her tits and she moaned with pleasure.  "I want to fuck you, Angela," I
whispered.  "I want to be next to you all night.  Hell, one fuck may not be
enough.  You're incredible!"

   She helped me pull off her sweater, revealing her bra which she quickly
unhooked.  Her tits came into full view and I gasped.  They looked even bigger
exposed than they did inside that delicious tight-fitting sweater.  With no
delay I buried my head in her breasts.  She moaned and held me close as I
kissed them passionately, twirling her nipples with my tongue.

   "Oh God, John.  Shit, yeah.  That's so fuckin' nice.  Holy Christ, keep
doing it just like that.  God, I want you so bad.  I can't wait.  I'm totally
out of control here.  I want to fuck!"

   She slipped out of her skirt and pulled off her pantyhose.  Her ass was
absolutely a thing of pure beauty.  I had to have it.  I cupped my hands
around her two butt cheeks and pulled her writhing torso against my own.
"God, I want you, Angela.  You're so hot.  Your boyfriend was an asshole if he
didn't treat you like a queen."  We kissed.  "You deserve nothing but the
best."

   "And I want you to give it to me, John," she groaned.  "Give me your best
tonight, honey.  Give me your best fuck.  I want you to fuck me hard.  So
hard, so nice, so good and hard!"

   So I did.  For the next hour we made mad passionate love on the king-size
bed.  It'd been too long since I'd had a woman.  Masturbation is okay but it's
a poor substitute for the real deal.  It felt great.  Angela was a devil in
bed.  She drove me wild and did it with no mercy.  By the time we finished
fucking I felt exhausted; exhausted but deliriously happy.  I know she was,
too.

   Still breathing heavily, I slowly rolled over to look for my cigarettes.
They were on the nightstand.  I was just able to reach out and grab them.
Angela looked at me curiously.

   "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"  I asked politely but I didn't expect
anything but an affirmative reply.

   She let out a big sigh.  She, too, was still breathing hard.  "Yeah, I
guess it's okay," she begrudgingly answered.  "But how come smokers always
want to smoke after sex?"

   I fired up a Benson & Hedges 100.  "I don't know.  I guess because it's so
relaxing," I smiled.  "Have you ever tried it after sex?"

   Angela seemed quite mellow in the aftermath of our sexual frenzy.  She
slowly shook her head 'no.'

   "Well, you should," I continued.  "It's one of the very best times for a
cigarette, even better than after a good meal."  I took a long drag and
inhaled deeply.  "Ah, that really hits the spot," I groaned happily.  I smiled
at her as I exhaled.  "Want to try it?"

   She hesitated.  "Yeah, I guess so.  Hell, why not?  Everybody always says
it's the thing to do after sex."

   I handed her an unlit cigarette.  Angela put it between her lips, obviously
waiting for me to light her.  As she glistened with beads of perspiration
covering her lovely naked frame, I paused to admire the amazing sight of a
beautiful woman about to smoke with me in bed.

   "Come on," she grinned impatiently.  "What are you waiting for?"

   "Oh, nothing," I smiled, clicking the lighter and holding out the flame.
She leaned over and caught it.  She took a modest first drag off the
cigarette.  "I was just thinking how lovely you are lying here naked in bed
next to me.  That's all.  You're really amazingly lovely, Angela."

   She grinned as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke.  "Thanks."  She frowned
and stared at the cigarette between her fingers.  "You know, you're right.
For some strange reason it _is_ kind of relaxing to smoke a cigarette after
sex, isn't it?"

   "Told you," I teased, taking the opportunity to playfully pinch her on the
ass.  She squealed in response, nearly dropping her cigarette, and I leaned in
to kiss her on the mouth.  The taste of fresh smoke on her breath was
exciting.  "Mm, you're so nice, Angela," I whispered softly as I reluctantly
pulled my lips away from hers.  "You're especially nice to smoke with me," I
added sincerely.  "My ex-wife never let me do that."

   Angela drew on her cigarette and looked at me quizzically.  "So what
happened between you and your ex?"

   "I dunno," I fudged.  "Sherry couldn't accept me the way I was.  We got
married while I was in law school.  I think she figured when I graduated and
got a job at a law firm I'd finally have time and interest for all the things
she wanted."  I hit on my cigarette and smiled at Angela.  "She hated the time
I spent working at the firm.  She never understood why I had to bill so many
hours, why I had to succeed."

   "But why wouldn't she smoke with you after sex?"  Angela clearly was still
focused on my previous comment.

   "Sherry didn't smoke.  The more she grew to resent me the more she seemed
to resent the things I did that were different from her.  My smoking was one
of those."

   "But she must have known you smoked before she married you?"

   "Yeah, but I think Sherry thought she could change me, make me who she
wanted me to be instead of who I was.  When she realized she couldn't, my
smoking became a symbol of all her frustration."  I tapped an ash in the
ashtray and shrugged.  "So we got divorced a couple years ago.  I haven't
dated anybody since.  Instead I spent my time working hard and making all the
partners at Caldwell, Williams & Gump both happy and rich."

   "You can't change people," Angela said confidently.  "I thought I could
change Hal.  Yeah, right.  What a joke.  If you don't like who someone is when
you first meet them, you may as well not waste your time."  She paused.  "Do
you like me, John?"

   "Right now, Angela, you're the perfect woman, the best I've ever known," I
laughed.  "I'd like to keep seeing you, to be honest."

   She nuzzled up against me, clearly satisfied by my answer.  "I like you,
too," she sighed.  "God, I never dreamed our trip to Minneapolis would end up
with us in bed together."  She giggled as she, too, tapped an ash off into the
ashtray.  "But like your ex-wife Sherry, I don't smoke," she frowned.  "Is
that gonna be a problem if we keep seeing each other?"

   I kissed her on the lips, again tasting the delicious flavor of the
cigarette she was smoking.  "Hey, you're already miles ahead of where Sherry
was, Angela.  Sherry was never willing to do what you're doing right now.  At
least you sort of understand my little habit."  I laughed.  "Hell, what am I
saying?  I should be more honest.  It's no little habit.  Being a smoker's a
big part of who I am.  But you don't seem to mind that, do you?"

   She hit on her cigarette and inhaled.  "No, I don't mind," she admitted, as
wisps of smoke floated from her mouth.  "No, I'm used to being around smokers,
like my parents and my sister and her husband.  Of course I'd rather you
didn't.  It's not good for you.  But I don't really mind it."  She smiled.
"I'd like to see you again, John.  Maybe we'd be good for each other.  Do you
think?"

   With my free hand I began twirling her nipples as I gently squeezed her
naked tits.  She smiled.  She liked it.  So did I.

   "I think we should give it a try, Angela," I said, gazing into her placid
big brown eyes.  "I'd really like that."

   "Yeah, me, too," she sighed.  "Me, too."

   We made love again the next morning before leaving our room and going to
the airport.  We caught a morning flight to Nashville and were back home by
mid afternoon.  We exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together for
dinner Sunday night.

   I was on cloud nine.  Angela Sinclair was beautiful, sexy as hell, really.
She had an angelic face, a truly fabulous ass, great tits, and a calm attitude
toward life.  I especially liked how she dressed, edgy but still tasteful.
Spending time with her that Friday and Saturday turned out to be more
rewarding than I could've dreamed.  I wanted to see her again.  I had to.  My
craving to be with her rivaled my craving for nicotine, and that was saying
something.

   Despite Angela's assertion that you can't really change anyone, I
desperately wanted to see her become a smoker, not just a dabbler.  Ever since
my debacle with Sherry I knew I could never get serious with a woman who
wasn't addicted to nicotine.  Angela wasn't, not yet.  But based on her
description of her sister Heather, I hoped I to gently guide her into becoming
the smoker I wanted her to be.  Little did I know how it'd work out.  That's
the next part of the story.

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