The Transformation of Angela, Part 2

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
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using it.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF ANGELA

2.	Moving In and Moving On.

   After my romantic night in Minneapolis with Angela, I was excited.  I
actually got to smoke with one of the most beautiful girls ever.  Angela
wasn't a real smoker, but hopefully I'd somehow get her smoking regularly.
Just thinking about it turned me on.  That Saturday afternoon I had to watch a
few of my smoking videos to entertain myself, if you know what I mean.  As I
watched I also dreamed about Angela smoking.  She was fabulous.  I liked so
many things about her.  The fact that she occasionally indulged in my favorite
habit was enough.  I had to see her again.  Luckily, Angela felt the same,
though not for that reason.

   So she and I began to see each other regularly.  We had dinner the next
night, Sunday, then again Wednesday and on Friday, too.  We seemed to 'click.'
I loved her sense of humor and her restrained yet cheerful attitude.  Nothing
fazed Angela.  She took everything in stride.  It was far different from my
disastrous relationship with ex-wife Sherry.  Other than Angela not being a
smoker, she was my dream girl.  She was attractive as hell and she had a
personality I truly enjoyed.  I began to watch my smoking videos less and less
and instead saw more and more of Angela, which for me was saying something.

   She began spending the night at my apartment.  It soon made sense for her
to give notice at her place, and she did.  She kept her own apartment for a
month, but almost immediately she effectively moved in with me.  Far from
feeling constricting or claustrophobic, I loved having her around.  And the
sex was great.  We fucked like rabbits, at least once a day and often more.
My favorite time was when we woke up and made love in the morning before
leaving for work.  God, what a fabulous way to start the day!

   At the office we kept our budding relationship quiet.  Some people look
down on office romances.  Angela and I didn't work together.  She was in real
estate and I was enmeshed in the corporate group.  But it still seemed smart
not to trumpet the fact that we were living together.  Her closest friends at
the firm knew, and mine did, but most people hadn't a clue.

   During those first weeks Angela rarely smoked.  The only inroad I made was
establishing a tradition of smoking together after sex.  She seemed to like
sharing a post-coital cigarette after we fucked.  We fucked at least once a
day so Angela was smoking cigarettes regularly, even if only one at a time.
But I was determined to change that.

   The weekend after she moved in Angela and I got together with her sister
Heather and Heather's husband Tom when they came to town.  I immediately liked
them.  As Angela predicted, our views on smoking meshed perfectly.  Heather
was an unashamed addict, and almost the spitting image of her little sister.
Heather's easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean.  Seeing lovely blond
Heather smoking passionately, repeatedly, with no apology or regret, was a big
turn-on.  The first night I met Heather I fucked Angela with extra enthusiasm,
picturing her gorgeous smoking big sister in my mind's eye.  But I'm getting
ahead of my story.

   So we had dinner with Heather and Tom that first night.  It was a Saturday.
We met at a little restaurant and bar with a smoking section.  Of course.
Neither Heather nor I would've ever stood for anything else.

   Like I said, Heather was nearly Angela's twin.  She was a little thinner,
perhaps, and Heather's hair was more a true yellow blond than Angela's
dishwater hue.  But otherwise they indeed looked like sisters.  I found out
Heather was 29, exactly two years older than Angela.

   That night Heather was smoking Newport 100's.  Angela had told me her
sister was a menthol girl, but I was unprepared for how passionately Heather
indulged.  All her drags were long and drawn out.  Her inhales were almost
painfully deep.  I marveled at how her lungs held all the smoke she pulled in.
Best of all, Heather's exhales continued over several successive breaths.  The
smoke went in so deep she couldn't expel it all in one exhale.  I love seeing
smoke escape from a beautiful girl's lips in stages like that.  Despite my
happiness with Angela, I found myself imagining how fabulous it'd be to be
smoky Heather's lover.

   "So, John, I understand you and my little sister moved in together,"
Heather began as we settled in.  She got a leather cigarette case and pulled
out a Newport 100, sliding it between her smiling lips.  "And Angela also says
you smoke?"

   I watched the beautiful blond light up, regaling me with stylistic
flourish.  I nodded.  "Yeah, that's right, Heather.  Angela tells me that you
and Tom share the same unapologetic attitude toward the habit that I do."

   Heather smiled.  Smoky bursts squirted from her lips and nostrils.  "Yeah,
I love to smoke, John," she shamelessly giggled, giving her husband a knowing
glance.  "So does Tom.  We're sick and tired of people who smoke but are
ashamed of it.  We smoke because we enjoy it and we don't care what others
think.  From what Angela tells me, sounds like you feel the same."

   I had just lit up a Benson & Hedges 100.  "Absolutely," I agreed.  "I'm
delighted to meet you both.  Angela said we're kindred spirits and it sounds
like she was dead on."

   Angela put her hand on mine.  "Isn't John dreamy, Heather?  Aren't I the
luckiest girl in the world?"

   "Well, Sis, I like his attitude toward my favorite bad habit, that's for
sure," Heather grinned.  "He's also not hard to look at, is he?"

   I blushed, but Angela just smiled.  "Yeah, John's great.  God, I'm so glad
you guys finally got to meet.  I know you'll become friends.  John's smart,
Heather.  He's a corporate lawyer.  He does merger and acquisition work for
our firm's clients."

   It turned out Tom was in real estate development so he and I began
discussing his business.  Meanwhile Angela and Heather engaged in sister-talk.
We ordered drinks and were enjoying a very pleasant time.

   Halfway through her drink, Angela auspiciously cleared her throat.  "Um,
Heather.  Can I have one of your cigarettes?"

   Heather laughed.  "Yeah, sure, Sis."  Heather turned to me with a smile.
"Have you discovered that Angela pretends she's a smoker when she's out
drinking with some of us who are real smokers?"

   "Yeah, Angela sometimes joins me if we have a drink, and a few other
times," I said mysteriously.  "But I don't think she really understands
smoking yet.  You know, Heather?"

   Her sister nodded.  But Angela was upset.  "God, what does _that_ mean?."
Accepting a Newport 100 from Heather, she put it to her lips.  "What don't I
understand?"  After her sister provided a light Angela took a modest first
drag.

   Heather laughed.  "I'll tell you, hon.  Your gorgeous boyfriend simply
means that having a cigarette a couple times a week doesn't make you a smoker.
You're not really one of us."  She laughed again.  "John's a real smoker.  I
bet you smoke at least a pack a day, don't you, John?"

   "More like a pack and a half," I said with a smile, stretching the truth a
tad.

   "I thought so," Heather grinned triumphantly.  "You see, Angela, John
smokes almost as much as Tom and me.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't mind you
joining us like this.  It's nice.  But you have a long way to go before you
get it, before you understand what it is to be a smoker."

   Angela tipped her head and released an unexceptional exhale in the air.
"Maybe I don't want to get it.  I like the way I do it right now," she pouted.
"Stop giving me shit, Heather."

   "Oh, so now you're talking dirty, are you?  John, is this more of your bad
influence?"

   "John doesn't give a shit if I swear like this when I talk," Angela
playfully volleyed.  "I'm no worse than you, Heather!"

   Her sister giggled.  "Yeah, that's for sure.  See, John, Angela prides
herself on being conservative, more conservative than I am in many ways.  I
smoke; she doesn't.  I'm, shall we say, expressive in how I talk.  Angela
usually isn't."  She grinned.  "I'm glad to see you're having a bad influence
on my little sister's speech.  She needs to loosen up, stop being a prude!"

   "You think I'm a prude?  Heather, you should see John and me going at it in
bed," Angela countered testily.  "If you did, you wouldn't think I'm such a
prude."

   "Maybe not," Heather giggled naughtily.  "Invite us over sometime and Tom
and I will watch."

   Despite some of that kind of edginess, mostly the discussions between the
sisters was jovially lighthearted.  We drank and smoked and talked while we
ate.  I enjoyed myself.  As Angela promised, Heather and Tom were fun.  It was
nice being with others who smoked unashamedly the way I do.  Angela only had
one cigarette.  But it was better than nothing.

   I wanted to encourage her to smoke more, and I tried.  My not-so-subtle
efforts received mixed reviews.  Occasionally my beautiful lover accepted an
invitation to join me for a cigarette.  But usually she politely turned me
down unless we'd had a couple drinks or sex.  I sensed Heather wouldn't be
upset if I convinced Angela to smoke more.  But I couldn't figure out how to
make it happen.  Gentle encouragement got me nowhere.  However, my chance
finally arose out of what started out as a potential disaster in terms of our
relationship.

   I came down with a bad cold after working late nights on a big deal with
Bill Johnson.  It was another Grand Corp. transaction.  They could be a
demanding client.  I worked till midnight three nights in a row.  By then I
felt sniffles coming.  They got worse over the next several days.  Eventually
it went from my head into my chest.  I sounded bad and felt worse.

   But I kept smoking.  Even when I'm sick I need to smoke.  Angela couldn't
believe it.  She wanted me to stop till I recovered.  I coughed and hacked
something terrible.  But I resisted her subtle hints about cutting down or
abstaining.  I'd been there before.  I knew eventually I'd feel, and sound,
better.

   A week later Angela and I were eating dinner in the apartment.  It was
Saturday evening.  We'd decided not to go out.  The Grand Corp. deal finally
closed and my awful cold was nearly gone.  I felt relieved, relaxed and happy.
Life was good.  Angela poured herself another cup of coffee as I reached for
my cigarettes after dinner.  She gave me a funny look.

   "What?"

   "I have something I want to say," she said almost too calmly.  "It's about
your smoking."

   "Mm?" I responded, hitting on my B&H 100.

   "I was worried about you last week when you were so sick with that cold.
You sounded terrible.  But you never quit or even cut down.  That's not smart,
John."

   I released a thick exhale into the air and smiled.  "Yeah, but it's the way
it is, honey.  Even when I'm sick I still need my nicotine, you know."

   "Yeah, I know.  That's why you should consider quitting."

   I couldn't believe it.  We had an understanding.  Was she reneging?

   "Come on, Angela.  You know I won't.  I can't.  I made it clear from the
start.  You said it didn't bother you that I smoke, remember?"

   "No, it doesn't.  I mean, it didn't.  Oh God, I don't know what I mean.
Yeah, in some ways it doesn't," she fidgeted.  "But John, all last week I
listened to you coughing your head off.  It was constant, like you were dying.
But you kept on smoking like nothing was wrong.  That really, really scared
me.  I care about you, John."  She nervously sipped her coffee.  "Smoking's
out of control with you.  Any reasonable person who was that sick would've
stopped or at least cut down till they got better.  Not you.  God, it helped
me see how addicted you are.  It's such a terrible habit, John."  She looked
up, wanting me to agree with her.  "It'd be good if you'd give it up."

   Suddenly it occurred to me.  It was time to play my card, and maybe it'd
work.

   "Yeah, but look at you, Angela.  It's not like you don't have any bad
habits.  Just think how much coffee you drink in a day.  You're never without
it.  That's not good for you, either."

   It was true.  Angela was as addicted to her caffeine as I was to nicotine.
I'd never in my life had a cup of coffee and she knew it.  Her face fell but
she quickly rebounded.

   "Oh come on," she laughed.  "Drinking coffee isn't near as bad for me as
your smoking."

   "Maybe not," I conceded, trying to sound angry.  "But think how much of it
you drink.  God, what is it?  Ten cups a day, at least?  Hell, probably more.
That's only what I see you drink.  You've always got coffee.  I don't know how
you can get after me for smoking when you load caffeine into your system with
a fork-lift all day long!"

   She frowned.  "I should quit drinking so much coffee.  Yeah, you're right."

   Her response disappointed me.  I hoped she'd defend herself so I could
broker a deal.

   Luckily, Angela quickly recovered.  "That's not the issue, John.  My bad
habit isn't as dangerous as yours.  I won't die from drinking too much coffee.
But you sounded terrible coughing with that cold while you continued to smoke.
My bad habit's not the point," she repeated.

   Touché.  But I sighed thankfully.  That was better.  I could work with that
logic!  "No, Angela, you're wrong.  It's exactly the point.  It's simple.  You
have your bad habit; I have mine.  We're even.  You know it'd be hard to give
up coffee."  I smiled.  "I might try to quit smoking if you'd give up your
caffeine fixes at the same time."

   "But I like coffee," she whined, raising the cup to her lips for a
comforting sip.  "God, I don't know if I could give it up.  Shit!"

   "Or what about this?"  I talked enthusiastically.  I was about to try an
approach I'd mulled over for quite awhile.  It didn't just occur to me in a
flash of inspiration.  "Angela, you don't understand my nicotine addiction.
Isn't that what you always say?  You just don't get it.  Well, for the life of
me I can't fathom why you're so obsessed with coffee.  So why don't we do
this?  Both of us ought to give up our bad habits.  We both know it.  But deep
down neither of us wants to; not really.  So how about if you and I agree to
immerse ourselves in each other's compulsions for a month?  You smoke like me
and I'll drink coffee like you.  At the end of the month if either of us still
wants to quit _both_ habits, we will and we'll endure the agony of quitting
them together.  Does that sound fair?"

   She cocked her head and stared.  "You're saying I should smoke like you for
a month?"

   I nodded eagerly.  "Sure, but it's fair since I'll drink coffee.
Eventually I'll start to like it, and you'll start to like smoking.  It's how
caffeine and nicotine both work.  Each time you have coffee I'll join you.
You drink two cups before work each morning.  Fine.  So will I.  I'll drink it
at work like you, and all evening."  I paused to imagine how I'd do that.  It
was okay.  I'd put up with it for the sake of what I really wanted.  "In
return you'll smoke as much as I do for the whole month.  At the end we'll
both quit both habits at the same time.  We'll do it together."

   "You're serious, aren't you?"

   "Angela, listen.  You want me to quit smoking.  Fine.  But I need you to
comprehend what you're asking.  So try it for a month.  Then if you still want
me to quit, I will, along with you.  But you'll understand the hell I'm going
through.  The same thing goes for you giving up coffee.  I'll drink coffee as
much as you for a month.  After that, if you want us to quit then we will.
But I'll understand the agony you're experiencing.  What do you say?  Are you
up for my idea?"

   "I see what you're up to," Angela said with a sly, knowing smile.  "You
think I won't want to quit.  You bet you'll get me hooked on cigarettes if I
share 'em with you for a month.  I know you like it when I smoke with you.
It's not hard to see.  For some reason you love it."

   "Granted," I confessed.  "I do love it when you smoke with me.  And I bet
you'd enjoy having me drink coffee with you, wouldn't you?"

   "Yeah, I suppose I would," she admitted, stroking her chin.  "It'd be kinda
cool to share it.  But something's different about the way you like to see me
smoke.  I see you watch Heather.  You like watching her smoke, don't you?"

   I raised my hands in mock surrender.  "Angela, I never tried to hide from
you that I think a beautiful woman smoking a cigarette is a thing of beauty.
And no one is more beautiful that you," I added, pausing to kiss her.  "Sure,
I'd love to watch you smoke for a month."

   "But you'd also let me introduce you to the fine points of being a coffee
connoisseur?  Any way and any time I wanted?"  She watched me nod.  "And we'd
both quit at the end?  All I have to do is say is I want to and we'll do it?"

   "As long as we both quit both habits together," I confirmed.  "I'll make
you that promise because it's totally fair.  I should quit smoking.  I know
that.  But I'm not interested in doing it alone.  However, if I had your
support because you were quitting, too, and if you're giving up something you
love ?."  I shrugged.  "I could do it under those circumstances."

   Angela continued to stroke her chin.  "Okay, fine," she smiled.  "Deal.
How do we begin?"

   I was so excited I nearly fell off my chair.  Success!  But I tried to
remain calm.  I didn't want her to see how pleased I was.  "Well, let's think
for a minute.  I smoke a carton a week.  So if you're gonna mimic me then you
need to do the same."  I looked right at her.  "That's over a pack and a half
every day, Angela.  Are you up for it?"

   She nodded.  "If it'll get you to quit at the end, sure."

   "And you drink coffee in the morning, all day at work, at dinner and most
all evening.  So I'll need to get used to doing the same."

   "So, when should we start our month long experiment?" Angela asked.  "Right
now?"

   "No," I answered thoughtfully, trying to figure out the best way to insure
success for my evil plan.  "I think we should have a couple days of spring
training.  You know, like in baseball?"  She shook her head.  "In baseball
they play practice games in Florida and Arizona for a month to get in shape.
The games don't count till after spring training.  I think we should have some
time to warm up before it starts counting."

   "You think we should warm up for a month?"

   "No, just for a day or two," I laughed.  "Believe me, Angela, smoking a
pack and a half of cigarettes every day will stretch you.  You're not used to
it.  You need to practice a couple days before you try to successfully finish
off four cartons in four weeks."  I paused.  "The same will be true for me and
coffee.  To drink ten cups a day I need a little preparation.  How about this?
We consider this weekend our spring training.  Monday morning the clock
starts; the games count.  Till then we just practice, warm up.  We do that
tonight and tomorrow.  We start in earnest Monday morning and finish 28 days
later, the fourth following Monday.  That morning, if you still want to, we
both quit smoking and drinking coffee.  We do it cold-turkey.  Deal?"

   "Deal," the pretty blond repeated.  "So for a month you'll let me teach you
about all the different kinds of coffee I love?  You'll sample any kind I
want?"  Seeing me nod she giggled.  "This'll be fun.  And all I have to do is
smoke with you.  The real bonus is that at the end of the month I get you to
quit smoking so you stop hurting your health."

   "That's it," I smiled.  "I hardly need to tell you, Angela, I'm betting
that at the end of the month you won't want to give up either habit."

   "I know.  And I'm betting that I can and I will.  So we'll see who wins,
won't we?"

   Angela loved games.  She was competitive by nature.  She wouldn't lose this
contest easily.  I knew that.  But nicotine is powerfully addictive.  Her
sister Heather was Exhibit A, proving my hypothesis.  I was staking everything
on the fact that ultimately Angela wouldn't want to and couldn't stop smoking;
or drinking coffee either.  Her dependence on caffeine would make giving up
both stimulants difficult.  All those factors weighed in my favor.  Against me
was Angela's natural stubbornness.  Well, I'd put my money on the table.  It
was time to give the roulette wheel a 28 day spin.

   "So when shall we start training?" I asked as I calculatingly reached for a
cigarette.  I had a mischievous grin on my face.  "How about right now?  Maybe
you should refill your cup and get me some coffee, too," I grinned at my
lovely companion.

   "You're serious?  Okay!"  Angela bounded to the kitchen to pour me some.  I
sighed.  A couple times over the years I tried coffee but never much cared for
the taste.  I smiled to myself.  Lots of people would say the same about the
taste of smoking a cigarette.  But it seriously does grow on you!

   Angela sat down and handed me my own cup.  She brought along a carton of
half-and-half from the refrigerator.  "If you're gonna start drinking coffee,
you may find it easier if you mix in cream, at least at first," she suggested.

   "But you drink yours black."

   "Yeah, but I didn't always.  I used to take mine with cream and sugar."
She held up a packet of Sweet-and-Low.  "Voila!  I'm here to make your
training as easy as possible."

   My pretty blond companion poured half-and-half and sweetener into my cup.
She stireed it with a spoon.  "Okay, honey.  Drink up!"

   I raised the cup to my lips.  I grimaced, then smiled.  "Very nice," I
sarcastically replied.  I sipped it again.  "I'm sure I'll very quickly learn
to adore it."

   "This is actually kind of cool," Angela admitted.  "It's gonna be neat to
have you do this with me the next four weeks."

   I held out my pack of Benson & Hedges 100's.  "Yeah, I'm sure it will,
Angela.  But now it's time for you to keep your part of the bargain.
Cigarette?"

   Demurely she removed one from the gold pack.  "Certainly," she giggled
mischievously.  "This won't be nearly as hard for me."  She raised it to her
lips.  "After all, I've smoked before."

   Yeah, I mused silently, but not the way you'll be doing it now!  Clicking
my lighter I lit her up.  She took a modest drag and inhaled lightly.  

   "I suspect you're right about that, Angela.  You're sort of used to
smoking.  But you're not doing it quite right, you know."

   "Oh?"

   I lit up one for myself.  "You see, honey, now you gotta _really_ smoke.
No more sissy little baby puffs like the ones you've been taking.  For the
next month I want you doing it like me."  To demonstrate I hit long and hard
on my cigarette.  When I opened my mouth I breathed the smoke in deeply,
summoning it down inside my lungs and holding it.

   Angela frowned.  "Yeah, I see what you mean.  Your puffs are longer than
mine.  Plus, you breathe the smoke in a lot deeper.  Well, I can do that."

   I watched as she replicated my demonstration.  Yeah, Angela baby, you can
and you will.  And hopefully it'll change you forever!

   "Ooh," Angela gasped after taking a longer drag and inhaling deeply.  A
glazed look glistened over her blue eyes.  "Wow, doing it like that feels
kinda different, doesn't it?"  She parted her lips to release a thick cone of
smoke.

   I smiled triumphantly.  "Now that, my dear, that's how you need to smoke
for the next month.  It's just how your sister and I do it, so get used to
it."  I sipped my coffee, doing my best to look as if I liked my part of the
deal.  "What do you think?"

   She nervously tapped an ash in the ashtray.  "I dunno," she admitted
hesitantly.  "It kinda gave me a buzz, to be honest."

   "Try again," I urged, doing it myself.  "I want you to take longer drags
and inhale more."

   "Do I have to?  Why can't I just smoke like I always have?"

   I shook my head.  "Because it wouldn't be fair.  Is it fair if I drink a
little coffee and pour the rest in the sink?  No, of course not.  I'm not
getting the full effect of the caffeine.  It's the same with smoking, Angela.
If you're gonna smoke, you gotta do it right.  You need to do it like Heather
and me.  Otherwise you won't feel the full effect of the nicotine.  If the
nicotine doesn't hit you, you're not really smoking.  It's just posing."

   She sighed.  "Okay, I'll do it."  She hit on the cigarette.  After another
lengthy drag she sucked smoke deep into her chest.  I felt a twinge in my cock
seeing her lovely chest expand.

   "Now don't let it out so fast.  That's the other adjustment we need to make
to your style.  Hold the inhale longer before letting it out.  Yeah, that's
right.  That's good," I grinned as after five seconds she opened her mouth and
slowly exhaled.  "How did that feel?"

   "Different.  I dunno.  Not bad, I guess.  Just different."  She smiled.  "I
get lots more smoke doing it that way, don't I?"

   "Absolutely.  That's my point.  People like you, Angela, who smoke
sporadically mainly focus on the cigarette, don't you?  You're focused on
playing with it.  But once you start to smoke like Heather and me, your
attention refocuses onto the smoke itself."  She frowned.  So I explained.
"The thing your sister and I focus on isn't our cigarettes.  It's getting
smoke in our lungs.  Those of us who are addicted to nicotine, it's what we
want; it's what we need.  The reason they call us smokers is very simple.  We
need smoke and the nicotine it delivers."  I hit hard on my cigarette and
inhaled to demonstrate.  "You'll never truly understand my addiction till you
need smoke, honey."  I exhaled.  "That's what you have to learn.  I need you
to smoke like a smoker this next month, to do it like someone who needs the
nicotine inside the smoke."

   Slowly she nodded.  "I guess it's no different than drinking coffee.  I
don't drink decaf that I need the caffeine."  She smiled.  "But if I become
dependent on nicotine like you then you're gonna become dependent on caffeine
like me.  Right?"

   I nodded.  "And I'm fine with that."  I sipped my coffee to make my point.

   She smiled.  "So, do you like it yet?"

   "No, actually it tastes like axle grease."

   "Doesn't the half-and-half and the sweetener help?"

   "A little," I admitted.  "It tastes like axle grease with milk and sweeter
in it."

   "Don't worry.  It'll grow on you," Angela promised with a wry smile as she
raised her cigarette to her lips for another drag.  "Just like I'm sure this
will grow on me."

   I watched her hit on it.  Already her style looked better.  She understood
the need to take in more smoke with each drag, pull it deeper into her lungs,
and hold it awhile before exhaling.  She was right.  Smoking _would_ grow on
her.  Before long she'd find it hard to cope without repeated nicotine
infusions from what would soon become her new best friends, namely, her
cigarettes.

   It's not easy to smoke a pack and a half a day.  It takes effort.  In truth
I didn't always smoke that much.  A pack and a half a day was the top number I
ever smoked, not my average.  But I stretched the truth to help insure that
Angela got totally hooked.  I felt confident if she averaged a pack and a half
a day for four weeks she'd be unable and unwilling to quit.  Even if she
tried, giving up coffee cold turkey at the same time would prove undoable.
That's what I was counting on.

   That Saturday night Angela and I continued to smoke and drink coffee
together.  I was in paradise.  My beautiful angelic blond girlfriend was
lighting up a fresh cigarette every time I did.  I made sure I didn't slack
off.  It was so enjoyable watching her.  We went to bed early.  Remember, I
was still tired from closing the latest Grand Corp. deal and having been sick.
By the time we were under the sheets Angela had smoked six of my cigarettes
with me.  Her breath tasted extraordinarily smoky when we kissed goodnight.
She noticed the reaction it had down below.

   "So, John," she said with a mischievous giggle.  "I gather you want to make
love?"

   Another kiss.  The smoky scent in her mouth was pure heaven!  "God, Angela,
yeah.  It's crazy but it really turns me on to smell smoke on your breath so
strongly."  I kissed her once more and my hands reached for her breasts inside
her nightgown.  "I have to have you tonight!"

   She groaned in response to my fondling her breasts.  "This could be an
unexpected benefit of me indulging in your habit, huh?"  Her fingers found my
cock.  She began to gently stroke it.  "I didn't mind smoking with you
tonight, baby," she whispered tenderly into my ear.  "Does that turn you on,
too?"

   I replied by promptly pushing my torso up against hers and she squealed
with delight.  I simply had to kiss her again.  I couldn't wait.  I needed to
smell the wonderful fragrance of that stale cigarette smoke that permeated her
mouth.  God, it was fabulous!

   "God, maybe smoking all the time won't be so bad," she teased after I
finally came up for air.  "I haven't seen you this excited for a long time,
baby."

   "I feel good tonight," I moaned, slowly rotating my pelvis and pushing it
against hers.  "I'm finally over my damn cold and my deal closed.  But that's
not the important thing."  We kissed.  "Having you smoke with me is gonna be
nice, honey.  God, so, so fuckin' nice!"

   "But only for a little while.  We're both quitting at the end of the month.
Remember?" she whispered, enjoying the sensation of my stiff cock humping
against her lower abdomen.  

   I groaned.  It was like she poured cold water on my ardor.  She immediately
sensed it.

   "You really don't want us to quit, do you?  God, look at your cock.  It's
like somebody let the air out of the balloon!"

   "I can't help it.  I was just getting excited and then, pow!"  I moaned.
"You're right, hon.  We will quit if you want to.  But thinking about that
unpleasant possibility isn't exactly going to keep me going."

   Taking my cock in hand Angela began to rub it.  Slowly it revived.  "Then I
tell you what.  Let's not think about it now," she said in a wicked whisper.
"Who knows?  Maybe you're right.  Maybe I'll like it too much.  Hell, maybe
I'll turn into a smoker forever, a nicotine addict, just like you and
Heather."  She giggled seeing my dick's reaction to her playful words.  "God,
baby, you really _do_ like the idea of me smoking, don't you?"

   My passion returned full force.  "Angela, you have no idea!"  And then we
fucked like rabbits for the next hour.

   The next morning was the second day of our 'spring training.'  We usually
shared breakfast on Sunday mornings while reading the paper.  That day Angela
poured coffee for each of us and brought it to the breakfast table.  I offered
her a cigarette and she accepted.  All of a sudden reading the paper seemed
impossible.  I had to watch her react to smoking her first morning cigarette
ever.

   She did pretty well.  Her prior experience stood her in good stead.  We sat
and read the paper (well, I sort of read it) for an hour.  I made sure I lit
up every fifteen minutes and sure enough, Angela did the same.  She then
retreated to the bathroom to shower while I logged onto the computer and
checked my email.  I took a shower after her and then we sat down to smoke and
drink coffee again.

   Drinking coffee wasn't so bad.  I did it.  At first I didn't care much for
it, though it was a small price to pay to get my lovely girlfriend to smoke.
Angela didn't smoke quite as much as I did during our Sunday 'warm up' but she
wasn't far behind.  That afternoon we took in a movie.  After we left the
theater I lit up a cigarette in the car.  I reminded her she should, too.  She
did with no complaint.  All day Angela never once complained about having to
smoke.  It seemed she was adjusting just fine to smoking regularly.  It was
her first cigarette ever riding in a car.  I showed her how to crack her
window so the smoke could escape.  By the end of the day that Sunday she'd
made it through a whole pack.  For me it was like living a dream.

   That night we fucked.  That wasn't unusual.  We fucked nearly every night.
But that evening, with Angela having smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, her
breath smelled delicious.  The pungent aroma was so potent.  God, it turned me
on incredibly.  That night I fucked my beautiful girlfriend with more passion
than I ever remembered having.

   Angela noticed.  Afterward I reached for my Benson & Hedges 100's and she
and I each enjoyed a post-coital cigarette.  Taking long drags and inhaling
deeply somehow seemed less difficult, more natural for her by now.  She
commented on it, and on our lovemaking session.

   "You know what, John?" she said as she released a long plume of smoke with
a satisfied smile.  "That was nice.  Real nice.  You seemed so passionate, so
into it tonight."

   I kissed her on the lips.  "I was, baby."  I watched her take a protracted
hit on her cigarette and suck smoke down into the inner recesses of her lungs.
"The new smell of smoke on your breath that's so strong now is simply
incredible!"

   She laughed.  "God, John, you're so strange!  Most men would find it
disgusting.  They wouldn't want to make love with a girl who's been smoking so
much."

   "But I smoke a lot.  So you think I smell disgusting?"

   "I didn't say that," she laughed, vigorously shaking her blond head from
side to side.  "I'm used to it.  But I'm just saying most guys wouldn't
consider it a change for the better."

   "Well, I'm not most guys," I replied with a twitter, nuzzling up against
her naked tits as she released a leisurely exhale over my head.  "I like it,
Angela.  I really do."

   "Yeah, I can tell," she sighed, stroking my head with her free hand.  "So
tell me.  It was just practice today.  But tomorrow starts counting against my
carton a week requirement.  So exactly how am I supposed to smoke that much
when I'm working all day?"

   I shrugged.  "I dunno.  How do you think I do it?"

   "Well, for one thing, you smoke at work.  But I'm sure as hell not going
to!"

   I sat up and looked into her blue eyes.  "And why not?"

   "Because it's just for one month.  People will think it's weird if I start
to visit the smoke room all the time like you.  They'll think I'm a smoker.
But then when I quit four weeks later they'll think it's weird."

   "But Angela, why do you care what anyone thinks?  For the next month you
are a smoker.  Look, you agreed to average a pack and a half a day.  Like me.
I've kept track.  You only had about twenty cigarettes.  So to meet your quota
you'll need to up that by another fifty percent on an average day."  I hit on
my B&H.  "I don't think you can do it unless you smoke at work.  Visiting the
firm's smoke room isn't so bad.  People there are discrete.  No one talks
about who's in there and who isn't.  Smokers protect each other.  Except for
the regulars you see in the smoke room and those who see you going in or
coming out, no one at the firm will know you're smoking."

   She sighed.  "God, I felt like all I did today was smoke.  It wasn't
exactly hard but I can't imagine smoking fifty percent more."  She smiled.
"How about if we set my target lower so I don't need to smoke at the office?"

   "No dice," I laughed.  "We made a deal, Angela.  You said you'd smoke as
much as me.  The target is an average of a pack and a half a day.  It doesn't
mean you need to smoke that much every day Monday through Friday.  On weekends
you can smoke more and boost your average.  But even if you smoke a couple
cigarettes before work, a couple in your car on the way to the office, and
another two driving home, it still leaves over twenty cigarettes you have to
smoke before bed.  That's a lot.  It'll be easier if you knock some off at
work."

   "God, I'm gonna have to start smoking in my car, aren't I?"

   "Well, I always smoke in mine," I smiled at her wickedly.  "Like I said,
you don't have to.  But I don't know how you'll ever hit your target if you
don't smoke when you drive."

   She hit thoughtfully on her cigarette.  "I agreed to do this too fast," she
mused.  "I should've though about what it'd mean.  I probably am gonna have to
smoke in public, aren't I?"

   "But you should," I teased.  "If you don't you won't really appreciate what
quitting would mean.  After all, I'm gonna be drinking coffee at work all the
time."

   "Smoking's different.  Nobody cares if you drink coffee or not."

   "Look, Angela, no one cares if you smoke, either.  No partner has ever said
a word to me about my smoking.  I take a little good-natured kidding about it
from some other associates and from my secretary.  But mostly no one notices
or cares.  Trust me.  Other than your closest friends, no one will even be
aware of it."

   She was nearly done with her B&H.  After a last drag she crushed it in the
ashtray.  She began talking before she'd exhaled and smoke mingled with her
words.  

   "Oh my God, I didn't think of that, either.  The group I regularly go to
lunch with, Judy, Lynn and Clarissa.  None of 'em smoke.   I have to explain
it to them, too, don't I?"

   "I suppose.  But so what?  If they don't like it, it only proves that they
weren't really your friends."

   She frowned.  "I don't want to change everything in my life," she groaned
unhappily.  "Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all."

   I raised up on my elbows, leaned in and kissed her.  As I hoped the
sweet-smelling smoky fragrance of her breath stimulated my cock back into
action.  As it revived I pushed my lower body against Angela while we
embraced.

   "Honey, you don't have to do it at all," I whispered.  "But God damn!
You're so fuckin' sexy when you smoke.  You'll be impossible to resist if you
do it all day like you did today."  I began to play with her nipples and
leered at her.  "Want to fuck again?"

   She laughed.  "Twice in one night?  God, John, what is this, bribery?  If I
smoke are you saying we'll fuck twice every night for the next month?"

   My cock was stiff as a rod.  Angela's fragrant smoky breath was a great
aphrodisiac.  "Who knows, baby?  We might.  And it might make it worth it to
tell Judy, Lynn and Clarissa about your temporary new habit."  We kissed with
passion.  "What do you think?"

   She groaned as she felt my body moving in rhythm with hers again.  "I think
I want to fuck," she whispered.  "But does this mean I have to smoke again
with you when we're done?"

   "Don't you like to smoke after sex?" I asked.

   She paused, gently shivering at my tender massaging of her swollen breasts.
"Yeah, I guess," she hesitated.  "You know, I really do look forward to it
now.  I like smoking with you after we fuck.  I've gotten used to it.  It's
part our lovemaking routine."  My ardor increased dramatically in response to
her candid admission.  She noticed and giggled with delight, kissing me hard.
"John, I love you.  God, I adore being fucked by you like this!"

   And I love fucking a smoker, I thought to myself.  Honey, the more you
reorganize your life around your new habit, and the more it takes you over,
the more I'll want to fuck you.  I wished I could tell Angela that.  But I
think she already understood.  The only question was, how would smoking
heavily for four weeks impact her?  The answer comes in the next chapter.

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