The Transformation of Angela, Part 3

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

3.	Getting Hooked.

   The next day, before we left for work, I gave Angela her own carton of
Benson & Hedges 100's.  Her job was to finish it, all ten packs, by next
Sunday night.  I felt a little guilty making her smoke full flavor cigarettes.
It'd be easier if she smoked lights.  But I wanted Angela hooked.  I wasn't
about to leave anything to chance.  Smoking a pack and a half of full flavor
Benson & Hedges 100's every day for 28 days was likely to get it done.

   Angela smoked her first two cigarettes while we were eating breakfast.
Reluctantly she finally agreed to smoke in her car while she drove to work.
We drove separate cars even though we worked at the same firm because of my
unpredictable schedule.  That way Angela could go home on time if I had to
work late.  She later said she did indeed smoke two cigarettes during her
drive to the office that Monday morning.

   We agreed to go to lunch together that first day.  I suggested a little
restaurant far enough from the office that no one from work was likely to be
there.  I picked up Angela out front.  It was five minutes to the restaurant.
Neither of us smoked.  There wasn't time.  We got there and got a table in
smoking.  Angela ordered coffee for both of us.  I reached for my cigarettes
and simultaneously she got hers.

   As soon as she had one in her fingers I offered my lighter.  Angela took a
powerful first drag and inhaled.  I smiled at the lovely visage across the
table.  God, she looked hot smoking!

   I just had to ask.  "How does it feel?"

   "Okay, I guess," she shrugged nonchalantly.  She reached for her coffee and
sipped.  "But after smoking all day yesterday it actually felt kinda good not
to do it at work this morning.  I'm not all that interested in it, you know."
She smiled as she hit on her cigarette.  "At least, not yet."

   "You will be," I promised, lighting up myself.  "If we're gonna quit
together I want it to mean something.  You understand, don't you?"

   She nodded as she exhaled, causing smoke to spew everywhere.  She laughed
at the sight.  "Yeah, John, I know.  I suppose eventually I'll start to want
it.  But I don't yet."  She dragged.  "I don't mind smoking, though.  But
right now I'd be just as happy, maybe happier, if I wasn't."

   Now that was a turn-off.  But I wanted her to be honest.  I knew ultimately
her prediction would come true, though.  She'd want it.  It was just a matter
of time.  I was glad she realized it.

   Angela had three cigarettes with me that day at lunch, one before she ate
and two after, each one with coffee.  Always the coffee.  My girlfriend was
never without coffee.  I did my best to follow her lead.  Over lunch I had two
cups.  Adding it to my one at breakfast and a second one working at my desk
that morning, I was forty percent of the way toward my coffee goal.  I smiled
as I realized Angela was way short of forty percent of hers.  With two
cigarettes over breakfast, two in her car and three at lunch, she'd had seven;
seven out of thirty.  She really needed to pick up her pace to not fall
hopelessly behind.

   I mentioned it to her as we returned to the office.  But she remained
adamant about not wanting to visit the firm's smoke room.  I even offered to
meet her there so she wouldn't need to feel awkward going in alone.  No, she
didn't want to.  She was immovable.  She was sure she'd meet her quota without
indulging at all during the work day.

   Angela left the office at 5:30 that afternoon.  I had to stay to work on a
contract for Grand Corp.  I didn't get home till seven.  As I walked in the
apartment the fragrant aroma of fresh cigarette smoke greeted me.  My cock
stiffened at the thought of my girlfriend smoking alone in our apartment.

   Angela was in front of the computer surfing the internet.  She loved
reading the New York Times on line.  Very current events oriented.  I smiled
as I noticed one of my ashtrays on the table beside the computer.  In it I
counted three cigarette butts.

   "Hey, honey," I grinned.  I gave her a kiss.  I nodded at the ashtray.
"So, how are you doing?  What're you up to by now?"

   "I had two cigarettes on my drive home."  She, too, glanced at the ashtray.
"I just finished my third one here.  That's twelve," she smiled.  "How are you
doing with your coffee?"

   "Two more cups this afternoon.  That brought me up to six for the day.
Four more and I'm done."  I had to rub it in.  "Looks like you've got some
serious smoking to do tonight."

   "Yeah," Angela sighed.  "John, I don't know if I can do this.  I don't know
how you smoke so much."  She dutifully reached for her pack and shook one out.
"I was just thinking about it before you got home.  Even if I'd gone to the
smoke room, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, it'd only add two
cigarettes.  I'd still only be at fourteen for the day."  She clicked her
lighter and took a first drag.

   I laughed and sat down.  "Angela, honey, you're wrong.  You don't get it.
It's not how it works.  Two visits a day to the smoke room won't just add two
cigarettes.  If you do it the way I do you'd add at least four more."

   "Four?  You mean you smoke two cigarettes every time you go to the smoke
room?"

   "Sure, at least," I nodded as I lit up, too.  "Most of us smoke at least
two whenever we go there.  The lawyers and paralegals who smoke usually take
along something to work on when we go so it's not really a break.  It
justifies spending more time indulging our nasty habit."  I hit on my
cigarette.  "Plus, I typically go to the smoke room four times a day, not just
twice."

   Angela frowned as she dragged on hers.  "God, four times?  And you smoke
two cigarettes per visit?"

   "Yeah, at least," I gently corrected her.  "Half the time I smoke three per
visit."

   She laughed sardonically as she exhaled.  "God, John," she said, as she
shook her head in disbelief.  "That means you smoke eight to ten cigarettes
every day at work, not counting lunch.  Wow!  I guess I do see how you manage
to smoke a pack and a half every day!"

   I put my hand on her shoulder.  "I'd love you to join me in the smoke room
tomorrow, honey.  I'll go with you your first time if it makes you more
comfortable.  It'd really help you increase your cigarette consumption so you
can match mine."

   She nodded hesitantly.  "I know I agreed to smoke as much as you, John,"
she said softly.  "But I just don't know if I can really smoke as much as I
need to tonight."

   "Angela, it doesn't matter if you fall a little behind," I said brightly.
"It happens.  Some days you'll smoke more, some less.  One and a half packs a
day is only an average.  Don't worry.  You'll make it up by smoking more
later.  So don't make yourself sick tonight or anything.  Just smoke as much
as you can and forget about it."  I kissed her again.  "I think you're doing
great.  In fact, I'd almost say you enjoy it."

   She sighed.  "I have to admit; it's not bad," she said with a guilty grin.
"I'm not addicted or anything.  Not yet.  But it's really not so hard to light
up a cigarette and smoke."  She tapped another ash in the ashtray and looked
at me.  "I'll think about joining you in the smoke room tomorrow, John.  I
suppose it wouldn't really matter if the smokers at the firm saw me in there."

   "Of course it wouldn't," I assured her.  "Most of the regulars in the smoke
room know we're living together.  They'll just assume you were a reformed
smoker and that after living with me you fell off the wagon and started
smoking again.  That sort of thing happens, Angela.  The people in the smoke
room won't think less of you.  In fact, who knows?  You might make some new
friends!"  I offered the last comment with a sly twinkle in my eye.

   "Like who?  Who goes down there?"

   I immediately gave her a list of seven or eight people she was likely to
see.  Angela was surprised.  She had no idea that some of those on my list
were smokers.

   "See, honey?  That proves my point.  No one at the firm really knows who
smokes except for the other smokers.  And like I said, we all tend to keep it
quiet.  Nobody's gonna put 'Angela Sinclair - New Smoker!'  in the employee
newsletter or anything, for God's sake!"

   "I suppose you're right," she sighed heavily.  "Okay, tomorrow we'll do it.
I'll give it a try.  I'm not promising I'll go more than once, though."

   I smiled victoriously.  "I understand."  I intended to make sure my lovely
girlfriend would feel very comfortable returning regularly to the smoke room
after her first visit.

   That evening Angela managed to smoke another seven cigarettes before we
went to bed.  We made love, as usual; she had one more after sex, making her
total her first day 23.  Not bad for a neophyte.  The best part was she knew
she had to pick it up and smoke even more in the days to come.  I loved the
idea of Angela constantly looking for opportunities to smoke.  If everything
worked before long she'd begin feeling that sweet itch of budding nicotine
addiction.

   Tuesday began the same way Monday did.  Angela and I shared coffee and
cigarettes over breakfast.  I guess she had two more on her drive to the
office that morning.  Around ten thirty I called her.  Reluctantly she'd
agreed to join me for a trip to the firm's smoke room.  By now Angela realized
she'd never meet her target if she didn't smoke during her work day.  I was
very pleased.  But unbeknownst to her, I called a couple of the girls who were
smoke room regulars, friends of mine, to ask for their help with my hesitant
girlfriend's first visit to our smoking paradise.  I met Angela by the
elevator and we walked to the basement room together.  It worked perfectly.
Stephanie Rogers and Kristen Bugelas were there when we arrived.

   Stephanie's another paralegal in the firm who works for our labor &
employment group.  Steph and I became good friends sitting together in the
smoke room.  She's single, in her late twenties and cute, with long blond
hair, clearly bleached, dark roots and all.  But there's just something
endearing about her almost trailer-trash look and unruly personality.  Steph
is attractive in an inelegant sort of way, if you know what I mean.  Best of
all, I never heard Steph apologize for her nicotine addiction.  She was the
kind of smoker I hoped Angela someday would turn into.  Kristen Bugelas, on
the other hand, is a young tax lawyer.  Kris came to us about a year earlier
after having worked for the IRS following law school.  Like Steph, Kristen was
and is a real nicotine addict, but it took awhile before Kris began visiting
the smoke room.  At first she was terrified what would happen if the partners
in her department learned she smoked.  But soon she realized that, at least in
our firm, the partners only judged her by her work, not by her personal
habits.  Once Kris got it, she became a regular fixture in the smoke room.
She and I got along real well.  Kris isn't nearly as outspoken and
unapologetic about her smoking habit as Stephanie, but she was and still is
addicted to nicotine.  Kris is dark haired and of second generation Italian
decent, a real beauty.  Kristen was the other girl whom I thought Angela might
really click with.  So I asked both Steph and Kris to help me smooth out
Angela's maiden voyage in the smoke room by being friendly, understanding and
supportive.

   As Angela and I walked in, Steph and Kris had just arrived.  Steph was
lighting up a Salem 100.  She gave Angela a big grin.

   "Hey, Angela.  John said we'd see you down here this morning.  So you
decided to start smoking again?"

   Angela nodded shyly.  She seemed nervous.  She picked out a chair and
apprehensively sat down at one of the tables. 

   "Yeah, John smokes all the time around me.  It just got too tough," she
said reticently.  "I couldn't stand it.  So I decided that I may as well start
smoking again myself."  She'd agreed it was easier to explain why she visiting
the smoke room by pretending to be a relapsed smoker.

   What Angela didn't know was that I secretly told Stephanie the truth
beforehand.  I'd known Steph for years.  I never once heard her encourage
anyone to quit smoking.  I figured she was one person who'd understand what I
was doing to Angela and why.  As I said, Stephanie's as unapologetic as any
smoker I've ever known.  Sure enough, Steph was glad to be my co-conspirator.
She thought it was great that I was tricking Angela to get her hooked so she'd
smoke with me.  Steph was all for it, and wickedly agreed to help out any way
she could.

   Steph released a long smoky exhale and gazed at the smoke room's newest
recruit.  "Angela, let me assure you.  You're welcome to join Kristen and me
in the smoke room anytime.  I hope you'll feel free to come down whenever you
feel like it"  She smiled warmly.  "So, tell me.  How long's it been since you
quit?"

   Angela startled.  "What?"

   Stephanie laughed.  "I mean, how long since you quit smoking?  How long's
it been?"

   Angela at last understood.  She smiled.  "Oh.  Five years.  Yeah, I quit
smoking right before I started here at the firm," she fibbed.  "I'd just
finished paralegal school."  She carefully followed the script we prepared
together that morning at breakfast.  She took a long drag on her B&H 100 and
inhaled deeply.  "Yeah, it was hardest thing I ever did," she said
realistically.

   "No doubt," Kristen sighed, finally joining in.  The dark-haired lawyer put
down the brief she was reading and gave Angela a friendly smile.  "I'm
delighted you're here, Angela.  It's always nice to add more smokers to our
little circle."  She glanced at Stephanie, then at me.  "I've met lots of
different people here.  I've gotten to know John, for instance.  Steph, too.
I've made friends with people in the firm I don't work with otherwise."  She
hit on her Marlboro Light 100.  "I mean, God.  Think about it.  How else can a
tax lawyer ever meet anyone unless she visits the smoke room?"  Laughing at
her own joke, Kristen spewed out a thick stream of smoke from her lips.  "It's
nice having you here, Angela.  Welcome.  I hope we'll become friends before
too long."

   "God, thanks, you guys.  John said everybody here's real nice.  I
appreciate it.  I really do."  Angela seemed genuinely touched.  Raising her
cigarette to her lips, she took a thoughtful drag.  "I've been here less than
three minutes but already I feel like part of the group."

   "Oh, you are, Angela," Stephanie nodded.  "Here in the smoke room we stick
up for each other.  We support one another."  She glanced at Kristen across
the table.  "For instance, Kris and I go to lunch together a lot.  In fact,
we're going today.  Want to join us?"

   I was waiting for this invitation to be extended.  I asked Steph to invite
Angela to lunch, to get her used to eating with other smokers and further
cement her growing habit.

   "Oh, I don't know," Angela waffled.  "I usually eat lunch with ?."

   Suddenly the door flung open.  In strode Blake Pennington, a tall,
distinguished fellow who's a partner in our real estate department.  Blake
marched silently to a chair in the corner and sat down.  From his coat pocket
he retrieved a pack of Marlboro Lights and stuck one in his mouth without a
word.  Opening a file, he quickly began perusing a memo.

   No one made a sound.  I glanced at Angela.  She looked stricken, and I knew
why.  Blake Pennington was an important partner in the real estate group, her
department.  He headed up the development side of the business.  And here she
was, smoking in front of him!

   Blake abruptly looked up.  A wry smile covered his face.  "Sinclair," he
grumbled.  "I've never seen you in here.  You smoke?"

   Pennington refers to everyone in the firm by last names.  Angela gulped.
"Yes, sir."  She didn't know what else to say.

   "Hmm," he mumbled with a nod, as if her answer was sufficient.  He went
back to his memo.  He hit on his cigarette and in a moment looked up once
more.  "Look, there's no reason to mention to anyone else in our department
that you saw me in here.  Understood?"

   "Uh, yes, sir."

   He grinned.  For the first time he realized her trepidation.  "Relax,
Sinclair.  I live by the same rule.  I won't mention to anyone that you smoke.
Look, it's none of their business, is it?"

   Angela drew on her cigarette.  It was a nervous gesture, almost
instinctive.  A good sign, I thought.

   "Uh, no, I guess not, Mr. Pennington."

   The older man seemed amused.  "Look, Sinclair, I smoke.  These other
smokers see me in here three to four times a day.  We have an understanding.
Nobody talks about who's in here.  If you're gonna be one of us, you must
understand, too.  And none of that 'Mr. Pennington' crap in here.  It's either
Blake or Pennington, but not 'Mr.'  We're peers in here.  Got it?"  She gave a
nervous nod.  "The other thing is, how come you don't work for my development
group?"

   "Excuse me?"

   "You're a paralegal in real estate, right?  So why the hell do you only
work with our mortgage lending lawyers and not with the lawyers in my
development group?"

   "I don't know, Mr. ? I mean, Blake," she said with a bashful smile.  She
hit on her cigarette again.

   He seemed pleased by her reaction.  "Well, you should, Sinclair."  After a
last drag on his Marlboro Light, Pennington abruptly crushed it in an ashtray.
"I gotta get back for a conference call.  But if you smoke, Sinclair, then you
should be working with me."  Another smile.  "I like working with fellow
smokers.  Makes it easier.  You know?"

   Angela didn't.  But she just nodded.  "Absolutely, Blake."

   He walked to the door.  "Give me a call," he ordered.  "I'll get you
involved in my real estate development work."  One last grin.  "It's more
efficient," he explained.  "Because then we can come down here for updates and
meet to review things.  No worries about how we smell.  Right, Sinclair?"

   "Oh, absolutely," she grinned back.  He left with a flourish.  As he did,
Angela let out a huge sigh.

   "Oh my God!  Blake Pennington!"  Angela laughed deliriously.  "God, I never
figured he even knew who I was.  I've wanted to be on the team for one of his
real estate development projects for years.  But now he wants me to call him!"

   "A benefit of being in the smoke room," I teased.  I was delighted by this.
I never engineered a deal with Blake.  I wouldn't have dared.  Frankly I
forgot to tell Angela that Blake Pennington was a regular visitor to the smoke
room and that she was sure to see him there eventually.  I never thought it'd
be on her first visit or that he'd react so favorably to her smoking.  "Sounds
like he wants to get you involved in the development side of the practice, not
just mortgage lending," I concluded.  "See, being a smoker's not so bad, is
it?"

   "So I guess from now on you'll be coming down here to smoke all the time?"
teased an equally pleased Stephanie.

   Angela crushed her spent B&H in the ashtray but quickly put a fresh one in
her lips.  She wasn't nearly ready to leave.  "Yeah, I guess I'll have to
start coming to the smoke room now," she proclaimed jubilantly as she lit up
her second cigarette.  "God, I never imagined Blake Pennington was a smoker,
or that he'd want me working on his projects if he thought I was one."

   Stephanie glanced at her watch.  "Hey Angela, I'd love to chat but I need
to finish reading a deposition by lunch.  Join Kris and me at noon.  We'll go
to our usual, a place a block away where smoking's allowed."  Angela
hesitated; Steph laughed.  "Just call me.  We'd love for you to join us.  Hey,
we can talk about your big break with Pennington."  She waved officiously.
"Gotta go, guys.  Later!"

   "Later," Kristen said as Stephanie departed.  "Steph's right, Angela.  Have
lunch with us.  Whoever you usually go with, they can wait."  Kristen got
herself a second cigarette.  "God, I wish a key partner in _my_ department
would be happy to find out I'm a smoker and want to give me work because of
it!"  She paused to light up and took a long drag on her fresh Marlboro Light
100.  "God, Angela, it's like a sign from heaven that it's good you've started
to come to the smoke room.  Don't you think?"

   When Angela didn't answer, Kristen laughed and continued.  "I mean, hell,
girl!  It looks like the more Blake Pennington sees you smoking here, the more
work you'll get from him.  Is that great or what?"

   Angela glared at me.  I raised my hands in mock surrender.  "Hey, don't
look at me.  I had nothing to do with Blake Pennington being here or doing
what he did.  Yeah, I lined up Kris and Steph, but not him.  That was
Pennington acting on his own, Angela.  I had nothing to do with it."  I
grinned.  "But it's great, isn't it?  An unexpected dividend!"

   "Yeah," my girlfriend hesitantly agreed.  But her eyes were shining.  She
raised her B&H up to her lips and dragged on it long and hard while remaining
deep in thought.  I could see the wheels turning inside her head.  Having
lunch with Kris and Steph would help her make more progress toward her daily
cigarette goal, and she knew it.  Plus, she liked Kris.  I could tell.

   "Okay," Angela finally announced.  "Yeah, I'd love to have lunch with you
guys," she told Kristen.  "I'll tell Judy, Lynn and Clarissa I'm having lunch
with somebody else today."

   "Great," Kristen grinned.  "Steph'll be glad, too.  Any friend of John's is
automatically a friend of ours.  I'm glad you can come."  Hitting on her
cigarette she inhaled deeply.  "I tell you, Angela.  All of us attend way too
many lunch meetings where we can't smoke.  So whenever you get a chance to
sneak off with other smokers you learn to treasure the opportunity.  Trust
me."

   I smiled.  I hoped she was right .  I really wanted Angela to be like Kris,
to learn to cherish opportunities like that, to want them and need them, and
soon.  I was happy it worked out that she'd have lunch with Steph and Kris.  I
knew Stephanie was gonna ask Angela to join them the next day and then every
day thereafter.  Hopefully, Angela'd want to.  I went out to eat with Steph
and Kris once.  They smoke like chimneys the whole hour.  I knew they'd be
wonderfully bad influences on poor Angela, especially as Steph understood that
helping Angela get hooked was part of her mission.  And God bless Blake
Pennington!  He didn't know, but he was helping seal Angela's fate.  Before
she knew it, she'd be unable to get out.  It was only a matter of time.

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

   Angela had a great time at lunch that day with Steph and Kris.  The two
female smokers befriended Angela and made her feel like one of them.  Steph
told me afterward that she and Kris smoked constantly and encouraged Angela to
do the same.  She did, and had six cigarettes over her lunch hour.  They also
invited Angela to join them in the smoke room for more breaks at two and at
four.  Angela did.  Adding those to the two cigarettes she had with breakfast,
the two she had driving to work, and the two on her morning trip to the smoke
room, by the time she left the office that afternoon Angela had smoked a total
of sixteen Benson & Hedges 100's.  She smoked two more driving home.  By the
time she got home she'd consumed eighteen.  She only needed to smoke twelve
more to hit her target of thirty for the day.

   Steph updated me via email all afternoon.  Based on what Steph told me,
Angela didn't react at all adversely.  In fact, during their last visit to the
smoke room Angela seemed totally at ease.  Steph and Kris introduced her to
some of the other smoke room regulars.  My girlfriend began to talk like a
regular herself.  I asked her about it when I got home at six.  As usual,
Angela was at the computer reading the New York Times.  She had a cup of
coffee by her side along with an ashtray.  And she was smoking.

   "God, John, you were so right.  I can't believe it.  Visiting the smoke
room wasn't at all hard.  Actually, it was sort of fun," she giggled
mischievously as she paused to hit on her B&H.  I looked at the ashtray beside
her.  It was her second cigarette since she came home an hour ago.  It was
only six, she was on her twentieth cigarette of the day, and she was still
going strong.

   "Steph and Kris are so nice.  They're really fun," my girlfriend continued.
"I was afraid it'd seem weird to smoke with them at lunch.  But it wasn't.  It
seemed totally natural to join in while they smoked.  I had a great time with
them."  She smiled wickedly.  "Did you hear I went back to the smoke room with
them twice?"

   "Really?" I said, feigning ignorance.  "And how was that?"

   "Fine.  It really was.  Better than I ever expected.  It was lots more
pleasant than taking a break doing something by myself.  Visiting the smoke
room with Steph and Kris sort of gave me something to do.  You know?"

   "Yes, I do know," I smiled knowingly.

   "I saw Blake Pennington again and he reminded me to call him.  He wants me
on the team for one of his new real estate development projects.  It's a real
break.  I've wanted to work with his group for years."  She reached out her
arms, indicating I should sit on her lap.  I did.  "None of this would've
happened if you hadn't made me visit the smoke room," she quietly whispered.
Still holding her cigarette, she gave me a hug.  "It's been a great day.  Best
of all, I'll meet my cigarette quota.  I won't have any problem getting to
thirty cigarettes by bedtime."

   "That's great, baby," I whispered in her ear.  "And I'm drinking my coffee
like a good boy," I added playfully.  "By the time I left work I'd had eight
cups.  I refilled myself all day long.  I'm getting used to drinking it.  Sort
of like you're getting used to smoking," I smiled sweetly.  "You are adjusting
to it, aren't you?  Seems like it's become almost second nature."

   Angela hit on her B&H.  "Yeah, it truthfully is," she said with a resolute
nod.  "I shouldn't say this.  Don't get your hopes up.  But when I got in my
car to drive home I felt excited about getting to finally light up again."
She giggled.  "It was only an hour and a half since I smoked my last
cigarette.  But it didn't matter.  I wanted it."  She lowered her voice to a
soft whisper.  "I wanted to smoke, honey.  I really, really _wanted_ to smoke
in my car.  Isn't that funny?"

   I didn't think it was funny.  I thought it was fabulous!  Not surprisingly,
my cock began to stiffen in response.  Angela felt it happen.  I was on her
lap.  She laughed and pushed her pelvis upwards hard against my ass.

   "I thought that admission might get a rise out of you," she giggled
naughtily.  She paused to take another drag.  "God, you like me saying smoking
gives me pleasure, don't you, John?"

   "I can't tell a lie," I said dramatically as she began exhaling.  "I love
it, Angela, seriously.  You're sexy when you smoke.  But it's even sexier when
you say you like it and want to keep smoking."  I surprised her by kissing her
fervently.  A few feathery wisps of smoke still streamed her mouth from her
last drag as our lips met.  The heavenly pungent fragrance of her smoky breath
made me even harder.  "Honey, I could fuck you right here," I groaned,
wrapping my arms around her chest.  "God, you smell good!"

   My beautiful girlfriend chuckled happily.  "John, you're so strange.  But
you know what?  I'm beginning to like the power my smoking gives me.  Shit, I
can seduce you in nothing flat, simply by dragging on a cigarette and telling
you it tastes good."  To demonstrate, Angela hit on her B&H and inhaled
deeply, then closed her eyes.  "Oh my dear God," she said with a theatric
groan.  "Oh, yeah!  Shit, I _love_ having smoke deep in my lungs.  It's so
fuckin' good!  Hell, all I want to do anymore is smoke cigarettes all the
time."  Opening her eyes she began to exhale slowly into my face.  "And fuck
you," she added seductively.  "I also want to fuck you!"

   Once again, I intercepted Angela's mouth before she was able to finish
exhaling.  We kissed and I tasted her sweet smoke.  By now I was totally out
of control.  I had to have her.  I couldn't wait.  My hands found their way up
underneath her clingy tight sweater.  "I need you, baby," I groaned
passionately.  "I can't stand to wait another second to have you!"

   "Me, neither," Angela moaned.  "I want you to fuck me right here in the
chair.  Okay?"

   I groaned in response.  Slipping off her skirt and panties, she tightly
held onto her cigarette.  She wasn't about to let it go and I didn't want her
to.  In a flash my slacks were off.  Without a word Angela slipped her
half-smoked cigarette into her mouth and began to feverishly pull down my
boxers, exposing my throbbing erect member.  I looked into her eyes.  They
were filled with lust.  She took my cock in her hands and stroked it, gently
at first but soon more forcefully.  Then she did something that nearly made me
lose it.

   With the burning cigarette still planted firmly in the center of her mouth,
Angela took a hands-free drag on her dangling B&H.  Without taking it from her
lips she expertly opened her mouth at both corners, vigorously and noisily
pulling smoke deep inside her expanding chest while continuing to smile
lustfully.  "You really like this, don't you, baby?" she asked with a
rhetorical flourish, intentionally letting the smoldering cigarette bob and up
and down in her lips while smoke cascaded over it as she spoke.  "I'm driving
you wild, aren't I?"

   She was, and I could no longer stand it.  Abruptly I stood and pulled her
up after me, Then I sat in the chair and forced her on top of me.  She giggled
uncontrollably, her cigarette still dangling, and with her hands she quickly
directed my cock against and then into her dripping wet sex.  I groaned.  She
did, too, and as she did took another hands-free drag on the cigarette firmly
entrapped between her lips.  Smoky bursts erupted from her nostrils and all
around the dangling white cylinder as I began to pump.

   "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she whimpered over and over, her shrinking
cigarette bobbing excitedly up and down in time with her frantic bodily
motion.  Ashes covered us both by now but we didn't care.  Passion was in
charge and there was no turning back.  "Oh, yeah," Angela hungrily exclaimed,
feeling an orgasm quickly building inside her.  "Yeah, that's it.  Right
there.  Oh shit!  Yeah, keep doing that.  Oh yeah, that's perfect, baby!"

   The whole time Angela's cigarette stayed in her mouth.  Almost
unconsciously she kept dragging on it and pulling more smoke inside her body.
Despite my efforts to maintain some semblance of self-control, I was ready.

   "I'm gonna cum," I whispered hysterically, forcefully rocking her up and
down on top of me.  "Right now you're the most gorgeous woman in the world,
baby," I went on earnestly.  "Oh my God.  Here it comes!"

   "Yeah, baby," Angela groaned back, pushing herself into me as hard as she
could.  "It's okay, though.  I'm ready, John.  God, I'm gonna cum, too."

   She screamed and so did I.  But what made it uniquely exquisite for me was
the fact that her now nearly spent cigarette never left her lips.  As Angela
came, each frantic breath she took was full of smoke as she climaxed once,
twice and finally a third time.  By the end it had burned well past the
filter.

   Her hands shook as she at last reached up to her mouth and slowly removed
it.  She dropped it into the ashtray and fell forward, nuzzling against me
while continuing to groan with unmitigated satisfaction.

   "Oh my God.  That was intense," she whispered, kissing my naked torso with
her lips while still gyrating due to the residual physical pleasure she
continued to feel down below.  "I've _never_ experienced anything like that!"

   "Yeah, fucking is good," I laughed in reply.  "It's always good."

   "But it wasn't just the fucking, thought it was great," she quickly shot
back.  "No, the thing that was different was smoking while we fucked."  She
gave an impish grin.  "My God!  Keeping a cigarette in my mouth and pulling
smoke deep into my lungs over and over while you pumped away felt so fuckin'
amazing.  I don't think I've ever cum that hard, ever!"

   I was genuinely pleased.  "Glad you liked it," I smiled.  "We can do it
again if you want, you know.  I didn't mind seeing you with a long white
burning cigarette stuck in your pretty little mouth, Angela.  God, it made it
_so_ hot fucking you, honey.  It's even better for me knowing that you liked
it, too."

   "God, I did like it," she admitted, shaking her head in wonder and
amazement.  Reaching for a box of tissues she began mopping up the sticky mess
still streaming down her naked legs.  "You know, this smoking thing has more
potential than I realized," she teased, pausing to pinch me on the ass as she
cleaned me up, too.  "Know what I mean?"

   I merely smiled.  But inside I felt incredibly victorious.  Yeah, baby,
sure, we can fuck this way again; and again; and again.  I'm glad you like
smoking and sex.  But you know what's gonna happen?  Pretty soon you won't
even want to _think_ about quitting.  Doing this, combined with continual
smoking all day at work and at home, will make sure that soon you'll need your
nicotine every bit as much as I do!

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

   That evening Angela easily hit her goal of thirty cigarettes.  We fucked
again before bed.  Once more she smoked as we did it.  By the time we went to
sleep Angela had smoked a total of 33 Benson & Hedges 100's.  Best of all, my
lovely girlfriend began to associate smoking with sexual gratification.  It
was a significant victory.  But she still had a long way to go before nicotine
addiction would control her destiny.

   The next day was Wednesday.  Angela went to the smoke room with Steph and
Kris as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  They went at 9:30 and
11:00, and had two cigarettes each visit.  Then the three of them went to
lunch and Angela had five more.  My girlfriend liked Steph and Kris, but I
think she also truly enjoyed the whole smoking experience.  Steph emailed me,
keeping me updated on Angela's progress.  According to my calculations she
consumed seventeen cigarettes before she left the office!

   Late that afternoon I sneaked down to the smoke room myself.  I'd been on
the phone most of the day and was ravenous for a cigarette.  Walking in the
smoke room, I saw Angela dutifully sitting at a table beside Blake Pennington.
He was reviewing a term sheet outlining one of his upcoming real estate
development deals.  He was smoking and so was she.  She smiled as I came in,
intentionally raising her cigarette to her mouth to take a particularly long
drag, clearly for my benefit.

   I tried to ignore them.  I had stuff to read for a conference call at five.
But it impressed me that Pennington was obviously adopting Angela into his
group, mainly because she smoked.  Things couldn't be going better, I thought
to myself.  It's all going perfectly.

   By Friday Angela was routinely hitting her 30 a day target.  Steph and Kris
kept doing their job, making it easier for Angela to smoke regularly.
Pennington was doing his, too, though he didn't realize it.  Friday morning I
was swamped and spent too much time on the phone with clients.  I had a lunch
meeting with one of the partners in my group, and as usual I didn't smoke with
a non-smoker.  So a few minutes after one I eagerly retreated to the smoke
room with some papers.  I intended to stay long enough to do a little work and
feed my habit.

   I'd just lit up when the door flew open and in came Angela.  We were alone,
so I smiled broadly.  "Good to see, hon," I said pleasantly.  "How're you
doin'?"

   "Shit, don't ask," my blond girlfriend grumbled, sitting down and anxiously
reaching in her purse.  She retrieved her pack of B&H 100's, shook one out and
literally thrust it between her lips.  "This is all your fault," she went on,
stopping long enough to secure her lighter and ignite the white cylinder
dangling from her lips.

   "Why?  What's wrong?"

   Angela didn't answer.  She took a long hard drag on the cigarette.  By long
I mean her opening hit lasted five seconds.  I'd never seen her attack a
cigarette like that.  Without realizing she even did it, immediately she began
a second drag and smoke erupted from both nostrils as she puffed again.  That
next hit lasted at least another five seconds before noisily she inhaled as
much smoke as she could muster deep into her hungry lungs.

   "This is all your fault, John," she repeated.  This time smoke flowed from
her mouth and nose simultaneously.  "God damn you, I'm fuckin' ruined!"

   "What are you talking about?"

   She was in the midst of another interminable drag.  "I'll tell you," she
angrily snapped back.  "I had a goddamn closing this morning with a partner in
the mortgage lending group.  The fuckin' bank loan officer who handled the
closing was a total asshole.  A closing that should've taken an hour lasted
all fuckin' morning!"  She tapped an ash in the ashtray and with no delay
returned the cigarette to her lips.

   "I thought I'd have time to come here and smoke before I went to lunch with
Judy, Lynn and Clarissa," she went on, hitting on the cigarette.  "But no!
The goddamn loan officer dragged things out forever."  Smoke streamed from her
mouth.  "I had to go straight from the closing to lunch with them."  She
glared at me.  "And it's all your fuckin' fault, you bastard!"

   "What's my fault?  I don't get it?"

   Still no one else was in the room.  "Don't play cute, asshole," she
snarled, tapping an ash in the ashtray and hitting again on her B&H.  "God, I
hope you're happy.  By the end of the morning I was miserable.  But I couldn't
cancel on Judy, Lynn and Clarissa.  They wouldn't have understood.  But I
thought it'd be okay.  I figured I could make it.  But I couldn't, God damn
it.  I just couldn't.  And it's your fault!"

   I knew what Angela was talking about now.  But I played dumb.  "What do you
mean?"

   She scowled furiously.  "You got me hooked on these shitty things.  God,
this was the first morning all week I couldn't visit the smoke room," she went
on hysterically.  "It was also the first day I didn't have lunch with Steph
and Kris.  I promised July I'd go with my old group.  I never dreamed this
would happen, asshole."  She had fire in her eyes.  "From eleven thirty on,
all I could think about was getting to the smoke room to light up a fuckin'
cigarette."  She paused for another powerful drag and inhaled.  "Fuck you!"

   I couldn't help but smile.  "Angela, I don't get it.  This was our deal.
You agreed to find out how I felt about smoking and I agreed to find out how
you feel about coffee."  I grinned smugly.  "Looks like you finally found
out."

   She looked away but didn't stop smoking.  "Yeah, I found out all right,"
she muttered.

   Still no else was with us.  I prayed we could continue this conversation in
private.

   "But admit it, honey.  Now that you're smoking, aren't you relieved?  Don't
you feel better?"

   "Yeah!"  Angela almost spat the word.  "Yeah, I do feel better; finally!
Shit, you said I'd feel cravings sooner or later.  I just didn't know _this_
was what you meant!"

   "Relax, honey," I said soothingly.  "Keep smoking.  You'll be all right.
You're just a natural, like your parents and your sister, Heather."  I knew
from talking to Angela about her sister's smoking experience that Heather
quickly and easily got herself hooked as a teenager.  Apparently the same
rapid descent was happening to Angela.  I couldn't have been more pleased.

   My girlfriend took a more thoughtful drag this time.  She clearly was
beginning to feel a bit calmer.  At last nicotine was dependably working its
magic.  I knew she'd be fine very soon.

   "Tonight's off," she replied, shaking her head.  "I don't want to go to
dinner with Heather and Tom.  I can't keep doing this, John.  I just can't!"

   We had plans to see Heather and Tom for dinner that evening.  Tom was in
town on business and Heather came with him, figuring she could see her folks
and her little sister.  She suggested to Angela the four of us get together
after work at a restaurant downtown.  Angela planned to tell her sister how we
were experimenting with each other's addictions for a month.  But now it
seemed she had other ideas.

   "I don't want to smoke with Heather tonight at dinner," she grumbled.
"God, I don't want to smoke anymore, period.  John, I can't stand this.  I
really can't.  Not if it's gonna do _this_ to me!"  Tears began to form in her
eyes.

   I took a deep breath, subliminally hoping she'd do the same.  "Angela,
honey, just relax.  Take a deep breath.  Look, you feel better, don't you?
Yeah, I can tell.  Hey, I'm sorry you felt such overpowering cravings so
soon," I fibbed solely for her benefit.  "But till now you enjoyed smoking.  I
know you have.  Isn't it true?"

   For the first time she began to crack.  "Yeah, it's true, I have," she
admitted warily.  "I have liked it."  Slowly she crushed her spent cigarette
in the ashtray and reached for another one.  "But I just felt so frantic,
honey, so goddamn frantic," she repeated helplessly.

   This time I graciously offered her a light.  Without hesitation Angela
leaned forward to accept it.  This time she drew more leisurely on her
cigarette, but she pulled the smoke unusually deep into her chest as she
inhaled.  The color was beginning to return to her pretty face.

   "See?  You're almost back to normal.  Right?"

   She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly.  "Yeah, I feel better," she
confessed.  "God, this tastes incredibly good!"

   "Of course it does," I smiled, reaching for another cigarette of my own.
"It tastes and feels wonderful when you finally get to smoke again.  But you
see, Angela, that's how it works when you're a smoker."  I let my words sink
in.  Angela Sinclair is now a smoker.  Nothing more, nothing less.  "We feel
frantic for a cigarette till we get to smoke.  Then we feel wonderful.  Looks
like you've finally arrived.  In just under a week, too.  I guess your genes
made you especially susceptible to addiction.  But that's no surprise,
considering your parents and your sister."  I smiled again.  "Don't you feel
better?  You look like it."

   The beautiful blond bit by bit exhaled a long stream of smoke.  Gone was
the frantic tense look she wore when she entered the room.  She looked like
herself.  And she was smoking.  There was a connection.  I knew it, and so did
Angela.

   "Yeah, at last I feel normal," she said with a relieved sigh.  She made a
face.  "But John, does this mean I can _never_ go more than a few hours
without a cigarette?"

   "I dunno.  Maybe; or maybe you should just learn to handle your cravings.
Sometimes gum helps a little.  It also helps if you really load up before
entering a no-smoking time like you did today."  I grinned mischievously.
Loading up beforehand only builds nicotine dependence.  But I wasn't going to
admit that.  "Next time you'll deal with it better, honey."  I touched her
hand.  "Despite what you said in anger a few minutes ago, there _will_ be a
next time, won't there?"

   "I guess," she sighed.  "But I'm not so sure about this, John.  God, I
never dreamed these feelings, the cravings or whatever you call them, would be
so powerful, so fuckin' strong."  She put her cigarette to her lips and
dragged.  "I promised you thirty days," she grinned.  "And thirty days it'll
be.  But I make no promises what will happen when the thirty days are over.  I
still might decide I want us both to quit."

   I purposely picked up a mug of coffee which I had by my side.  "Right, we
both quit coffee and cigarettes together, Angela, if that's what you really
want."  I took a sip of coffee and chased it with a drag off my B&H.

   I watched Angela exhale a plume of smoke into the air over her head.  Yes,
her countenance was once again shining.  She was relaxed.  She looked good.
She'd returned to normal.  She was smoking.  More than ever I felt confident
that this _was_ her new normalcy, her ordinary state of being.  If nicotine
addiction sank its hooks into her body and soul this hard and this fast,
another few weeks would definitely seal the deal.

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

   That night Angela seemed totally back to normal.  Her threat to quit
evaporated.  Instead she smoked as much or more than usual that afternoon.  As
planned we met Heather and Tom for dinner at six, and we had a great time.  As
soon as we sat down Angela surprised her sister with the startling disclosure
that she'd begun smoking, and more amazingly that she was maintaining a pack
and a half a day pace.  As I thought, Heather wasn't upset by the revelation.
In fact, when Angela went to the little girls' room Heather congratulated me.

   "My folks and I've been working on Angela for years," she giggled guiltily.
"It sounds terrible, I know, but it's true.  I felt if she just gave it a fair
trial she'd wind up loving it just as much as I do."  She gazed warmly at her
husband.  "As much as Tom and I both love it, to say nothing of Mom and Dad.
They'll be elated.  Great work, John.  Looks to me like you got her.  Angela's
already had five cigarettes.  She hasn't stopped smoking since she got here.
If she keeps it up another few weeks, she'll never quit.  She'll be a total
goner."  She smirked.  "And I assume that's the plan?  That you want her as
addicted as you obviously are?"

   "Heather, you're a wonderfully wicked sister to Angela, and clearly a woman
after my own nicotine addicted heart," I said sincerely.  "Of course I want
Angela addicted.  I knew if I could suck her into this experiment she'd never
get out."  I smiled.  "I know the kind of genes she has," I admitted.  "With a
sister like you, Heather, she didn't stand a chance of withstanding nicotine
addiction.  Didn't you get hooked in no time once you started smoking as a
teenager?"

   "Oh yeah," Heather grinned.  "It took only two weeks.  Before I knew it I
was obsessed with smoking," she giggled.  "If Angela smokes this much - and
her smoking a pack and a half a day is sheer genius, by the way - with her
genetic makeup she'll never get free.  Even better, she won't want to."
Heather happily lit up a Newport 100.  "I'm living proof of that.  If you keep
her smoking, John, she'll be a goner way before the end of the month!"

   Angela returned to the table, so Heather and I quit talking.  She smiled
warmly at her little sister and held up the fresh cigarette in her right hand.
"Hey, Angela, you should try one of mine for a change.  Have a Newport 100
with me.  You'll appreciate them in a whole new way now that John's initiated
you into the society of smokers."

   Angela frowned.  "If I smoke yours, it won't count toward my target.  I
need to smoke thirty today."

   "Come on, Angela," Heather teased.  "How many've you had already?  I bet
you know."

   Angela did a quick mental calculation and smiled.  "Yeah, I do,  I'm at
twenty-five.  I smoked a whole bunch this afternoon after a very frustrating,
nicotine-deprived morning," she said with a sly grin in my direction.

   Heather smiled jubilantly.  "See?  If that's the case, having one of my
Newport 100's won't matter," she went on.  "With or without smoking one of my
delicious menthols, you'll easily hit your goal of thirty tonight.  Listen, I
won't take no for an answer," she warned.

   With a sigh Angela accepted the long cork-tipped cigarette.  Heather lit
her up.  "What do you think?"

   Angela exhaled.  "Hmm.  I like it," she grinned.  "It's the same, but
different."  She dragged again.  "The smoke tastes cool, more minty than the
Benson & Hedges 100's," she observed.  "Yeah, I do like these."

   Heather grinned at me.  "Angela was born to be a menthol girl.  It's in her
genes.  I mean it.  Her mom and dad and I, we all smoke menthols.  We have for
years."  She turned to Angela.  "You should ask John if you can switch to
menthols, Sis.  Trust me.  You may find you prefer my Newport 100's."

   "I'll think about it," Angela admitted as she took a long drag.  Her
smoking style had definitely matured.  "What do you think, honey?"

   "It doesn't matter to me," I smiled.  "Once you finish this carton, you can
switch to Heather's brand for the next week."  I took her hand and squeezed it
tight.  "The only thing I care about is you smoking as much as I do, Angela,
honey.  If you want to experiment with different brands, like Heather's, shit,
I don't mind."

   "Good," Angela proclaimed.  "Yeah, I might want to try these next week,"
she grinned impishly, exhaling a thick plume of mentholated smoke.  "They're
good, Heather."

   "Yes, they are, Angela," her big sister smirked.  "They surely are."

   I looked at Heather and nodded.  Yeah, Heather and I both knew that Newport
100's deliver even more nicotine than do my Benson & Hedges 100's.  No, I
won't mind if Angela wants to smoke her sister's menthol brand.  No problem.
Yep, ten packs of delicious Newport 100's in one week will do everything to
Angela that I want them to!

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