The Transformation of Angela, Part 5

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

5.	Final Transformation.

   Once Angela's best friend Judy started smoking, Angela smoked more herself.
Saturday morning of the second week she finished off her carton of Newport
100's.  That meant she smoked  200 cigarettes in six days.  She was creeping
dangerously close to two packs a day and already we needed to buy her
cigarettes for the third week.  Angela wanted to try Steph's brand, Salem
100's.  I told her I prefer the all-white elegance of Stephanie's long
cigarettes over cork-tipped Newport 100's.  That was all Angela had to hear.
She bought herself a carton of full-flavor Salem 100's to smoke for her third
week.  But I suspected she'd finish that carton well before the third week
ended.

   I was right.  All day Sunday Angela smoked her Salem 100's relentlessly,
tirelessly.  Being at home made it easier for her to smoke even more, and she
did.  All day Angela was never without a cigarette for more than fifteen
minutes.  Clearly the Salem 100's agreed with her.  For the first time on
Sunday she polished off more than two packs of them.  She never said so, but I
think Angela was trying to show me she had serious second thoughts about
quitting.

   Her smoking at work the third week picked up considerably, mostly due to
Judy.  Angela's friend, the former anti, had an immediate and total meltdown.
Once Judy started up again she was smoking a pack a day, at least, and her
quick descent back into nicotine addiction had an immediate impact on Angela.
They went to the smoke room together all week.  Angela smoked non-stop with
her old friend and with her new ones, too.

   By late Thursday afternoon she finished her third carton.  She was
averaging close to two packs a day now and showed no sign of slowing down.
With the last of her Salem's gone, she bummed Benson & Hedges 100's all night.
Menthol or non-menthol, it didn't matter.  She just wanted to smoke.  Friday
morning on her way to work she got another carton of Salem 100's.  She teased
she intended to squeeze an extra carton of cigarettes into our four week
experiment.

   On Friday night of the third week Angela and I finally had dinner with her
folks.  Till then she hadn't let them know what was happening.  Or rather,
what already happened.  At last she called her mom Thursday night and said she
had a surprise.  She considered herself addicted now and figured she should
finally tell them.  She didn't want them to know till she was sure she
wouldn't quit.  By the end of week three, quitting no longer seemed a
possibility.  Angela was smoking even more than I was, nearly two packs a day,
and loving every minute of it.

   As Heather foresaw, Mom and Dad weren't dismayed by their younger
daughter's newfound addiction.  They seemed cool with it.  But after all,
Angela's compulsion only matched theirs.  Her mom and dad shared an unashamed
obsession with cigarettes.  Mrs. Sinclair smoked since she was 15 and was in
her 30th year as a smoker.  Her dad, likewise, smoked since high school.  The
only concession they'd made to a lifelong habit was smoking Newport Light
100's instead of full-flavor menthols.  Our evening with Angela's folks went
great.  If anything, Angela smoking seemed to cement her bond with them.

   She continued to smoke Salem 100's throughout the fourth and final week,
and put away a minimum of 30 and more often 40 cigarettes every day.  I was
glad she decided to keep smoking Steph's all-white brand instead of Heather's
cork-tipped Newport 100's.  Angela did go through five whole cartons in four
weeks.  By Saturday of the final week she told me she wanted to discuss  what
was gonna happen next.  I knew she didn't want to quit.  But what she said
surprised me.

   Angela looked nervous as she began.  "I don't want to quit smoking, John.
I don't think I can; not totally anyway.  But as much as I've learned to love
it, and I do, it's not good for us to smoke so much.  I cough every morning
now.  I get winded.  I know it's from smoking so much.  I don't want to give
up cigarettes.  I want to keep smoking; I do.  But instead of quitting I think
we should to try to cut down.  If we fail, we fail.  But we should give it a
try.  What do you say?"

   I was not happy with this proposal.  "Look, Angela, I agreed you could call
the shots once the four weeks ended.  If you want to quit, I'll do it with
you.  But I'm not willing to merely cut down.  For me, it's all or nothing!"

   My pretty blond girlfriend anxiously reached for a Salem 100.  By now it
was totally automatic, an entrenched knee-jerk reaction.  "Don't get me wrong,
John.  I don't mean cut _way_ down.  Nothing stupid like that."  She let out a
nervous giggle as she fired her lighter.  "I mean setting a reasonable target,
like a pack a day," she explained patiently, feathery wisps of smoke bursting
from her lips.  "It might not be so bad.  What do you think?"

   I shook my head.  I didn't want to negotiate.  "Angela, I love you, baby,"
I replied.  "I'm glad now you love to smoke, too.  But limits are one thing I
don't like and won't stand for.  I hate 'em.  If I feel like smoking, I want
to be able to.  If I don't, I won't.  Either we're smokers or we're not.  But
let's not have rules.  In time rules get inflexible, like a noose around the
neck that gets tighter.  We serve them instead of them serving us.  I don't
want to go there."  I reached for a B&H 100.  "If I'm having a good time with
friends, I smoke more.  I've seen you do the same thing.  I don't want to
agonize about a friggin' quota if we have dinner with Heather and Tom and I
feel like smoking more, or if we see your folks, or if we're having drinks
with Steph and Kris after work.  If I want to smoke, I want to smoke.  It's
simple.  See what I mean?"

   Angela nodded as she dragged on her Salem 100.  She inhaled deeply and
replied.  "Yeah, I know.  I'm just like you.  I smoke a lot more when I'm with
friends who smoke.  I'm only trying to find a way to control myself and my
cravings.  God, I'm out of control, John.  I truly am.  I love to smoke way
too much for my own good.  It's like I can't stop."  She smiled ruefully,
finally releasing smoky streams through slightly parted lips.  "And don't tell
me you think it's cute when I say I love smoking.  I know you like it.  That's
not the point.  The last two weeks I've smoked like two packs a day.  Every
day I smoke more than the day before.  I think it might help me, both of us,
to set some limits."

   "Angela, that wasn't the deal," I smiled.  "I can't and won't cut back.
Bluntly, I don't think you can, either.  You're addicted to nicotine.  You
fell for it so fast and hard precisely because you have what psychologists
call an addictive personality.  You swiftly and easily build up strong
physiological dependence on stimulants like caffeine and nicotine.  So you
don't want to quit smoking, just like you don't want to quit drinking coffee.
You probably couldn't quit smoking if you tried.  I thought this would happen
before we started our experiment.  You're an addict now, Angela.  Setting
quotas is a waste of time for addicts like us.  It's a back-door way of
fighting against the inevitable and making ourselves miserable in the process.
Like me, you smoke, honey.  You fuckin' love it.  You admit you can't live
without it.  I feel the same.  So let's embrace our mutual addiction.  Let's
just savor our unrelenting desire to smoke.  For me, it's all or nothing.
Either we smoke or we don't.  I won't agree to half-assed limitations on
something you and I both adore doing!"

   "I knew you figured you'd get me hooked so bad I wouldn't want out by the
end," Angela admitted, drawing on her cigarette.  "I didn't think it'd work.
I thought I was stronger than that," she grumbled.  She exhaled and followed
it by taking a deep breath.  "I don't want to quit, John, but you said I call
the shots.  I can decide we'll both quit if I want.  If you won't agree to my
quota idea, I'm gonna insist we quit together.  What do you think?"

   "I think it's fine, baby," I grinned wickedly.  "Let's go ahead and try.
I'm betting that you'll fail quickly and miserably.  It'll be hell on earth
for you and for me, honey, trust me.  But if we do, I have one more request."

   "What's that?"

   "If we fail, you never again talk about quitting or cutting down.  You
acknowledge that like me you're a hopelessly addicted smoker and you can never
quit.  Deal?"

   Angela sighed.  "God, John, I don't know why I enter into these deals with
you.  I always lose whenever we do."

   "You lose because I'm always right, baby," I replied.  "I knew you'd love
smoking and I was right.  Now I know you can't give it up.  Just look.  You
finish one cigarette and instantly you light up another one."

   It was true.  Having crushed out one cigarette Angela reached for another.
"Right, I'm an addict.  You got me.  So what?  We still should try and quit if
you won't cut back.  We'll start tomorrow."  My lovely girlfriend took a
monstrous initial drag on her second cigarette.

   I raised my eyebrows.  "The four weeks don't end till Sunday night."

   She exhaled expertly.  "Yeah, but if we're apart we won't know who's
cheating and who's not.  It's too easy to sneak to the smoke room and bum
cigarettes off Steph, Kris, Blake or Judy at work.  We should start quitting
at home.  It'll give is a full day under our belts before we go back to work
on Monday."  She hit on her Salem.  "Tomorrow has to be the day."

   Technically I could've objected.  But she was right.  Quitting during the
week was fraught with difficulty.  It was easier to be accountable to each
other at home.  Plus, I'd see her suffer withdrawal in person until she
finally cracked, as I was sure she eventually would.  For some reason that
thought excited me.

   "Okay, Sunday it is.  Tomorrow we both quit smoking and drinking coffee."

   Angela's face fell.  "What do you mean?"

   "It's the deal," I beamed.  "No cigarettes, and no coffee.  All or
nothing."

   She nervously double-pumped her Salem.  It was a beautiful sight.  More and
more she'd taken to double-pumping her cigarettes when she was stressed.

   "Yeah, you're right," she half-heartedly agreed.  "A deal's a deal."

   That night we fucked twice, and both times Angela smoked.  She'd come to
love the degenerate combination of sexual pleasure and nicotine overload.  As
we lay in bed smoking after our second coital bout, she turned philosophical.

   "It's gonna be hard," she began, tapping an ash from her cigarette into a
glass ashtray resting on her naked tummy.

   "You don't need to convince me it'll be hard, honey," I laughed, reaching
out to take a quick drag on her Salem 100.  "Or are you just trying to
persuade yourself to follow through on something you don't want to do?"

   "I don't know.  We'll see.  I have a plan for how to distract ourselves
tomorrow.  We can go for a walk in that nature preserve in the morning, then
take in a movie all afternoon.  Sound okay?"

   I sighed.  She was calling the shots.  But I had doubts how long she, or I,
could last.

   Sunday morning we got up late.  Too much late-night fucking tires us out.
Angela started to get coffee ready till she remembered.  "Shit," she mumbled.
"I nearly forgot."

   Instead we drank orange juice and ate sweet rolls while leisurely reading
the Sunday paper.  I already felt out of sorts, cranky.  Angela seemed
irritable, too.  We didn't talk much like we usually did on a Sunday.  More
than once I wanted to suggest we throw in the towel.  Angela never once
referred to either one of the habits we supposedly were giving up.  But I
could see it in her eyes.  She desperately wanted a cigarette and a cup of
strong black coffee.

   At ten we went to the nature preserve.  It was a gorgeous summer morning.
Our walk should've been fun.  Being nicotine and caffeine deprived, however, I
didn't enjoy it.  Angela clearly didn't either.  She didn't talk much as we
walked hand in hand around the grounds.  I knew she was battling cravings that
had to be intense.  Mine certainly were!

   We ate at a nice little restaurant down the road from the nature preserve.
Angela purposely chose a place with no smoking, the kind I never frequented.
By the time we sat down to eat, I wanted a cigarette so bad I could've killed
someone.  But the only person nearby was Angela, so unfortunately murder
wasn't an option.

   She smiled at me.  "How are you doing?"

   "I feel like hell," I replied with a cross smile.  "And you?"

   "Oh, totally shitty," she beamed.  "Look, I'm sorry I haven't talked much.
I was afraid I'd fight if we tried to talk.  I'd snap someone's head off in a
split second if he or she so much as looked at me the wrong way!"

   Our waitress approached with a big smile.  She was a pretty young girl with
long brown hair.  "And how are you two doing on this beautiful Sunday
morning?"

   "Uh, okay," Angela said, feigning a smile.  "Yeah, we're just great.  Look,
I'll have coffee black with no cream or ?," she started to say.  "I mean,
shit, I'll have a diet whatever."

   "Diet Pepsi okay?"

   "Yeah, fine," Angela mumbled crossly.

   "Me, too," I nodded.  Her badge said our server's name was Donna.  I felt
we owed her some explanation.  "Donna, we're in a difficult situation.  It's
hard to explain, but we're not exactly up for being friendly.  Understand?

   Donna frowned.  "Yeah, sure."  She then smiled a perky little smile anyway.
"But let me recommend the chicken stir fry today.  It's great, just what you
need to make you feel better!"

   "Nothing's gonna make me feel better," Angela grumbled, staring at the
perky waitress.  "He and I quit smoking today."

   "Oh God," Donna replied empathetically.  "I hear it's real hard to quit
smoking.  I mean, like, I never tried or anything, but that's what everybody
says."

   Did I interpret her comment right?  Did she just say what I thought she
did?

   "So, Donna, I take it that you smoke, too?"

   Our waitress hesitated.  "Yeah," she finally confessed.  "We can't smoke in
the restaurant anymore so I have to go out back.  I suppose I should quit,
too."

   "Why haven't you?"

   She shrugged.  "I dunno.  I like it too much to quit right now, I guess.  I
mean, I'm still young and everything.  So it can't hurt me that much to smoke.
Maybe I'll quit someday."

   "But not today?"  I said it with no accusation or criticism whatsoever.

   Donna instantly sensed my support.  She smiled broadly.  "Nope, definitely
not today!"

   Angela wiggled in her seat.  Discussing smoking made her extremely
uncomfortable.  Of course, that was precisely my intent.

   "Donna, I'm John, and this is my girlfriend Angela.  She and I are frantic.
We haven't smoked since last night.  Angela's dying for a cigarette right now
and so am I.  At the same time we gave up coffee.  So if we seem edgy, I want
you to know why."

   "God, giving up coffee at the same time?"  Donna was incredulous.  "That
must be hard!"

   "So you're a coffee drinker, too?"

   "Of course," Donna nodded.  She looked kindly at Angela.  "You poor
things!"

   "Just get our drinks," Angela fumed.  "Like John said, we're kind of tense
right this minute.  I don't really want to chit-chat, if you know what I
mean."

   "Right away," Donna smiled.  "Sure, I'll get your drinks."

   As soon as she left Angela glared.  "Why in the hell did you do that?"

   "She deserves to know why we're testy.  Don't get in a snit."

   "You're purposely talking about it to make me miserable," she spat back.

   "And what if I am?" I gloated.  "You deserve it.  It's your dumb idea to
try quitting!"

   Donna instantly brought our Diet Pepsis.  "Here you go, guys," she smiled
graciously.

   I started in again.  "So, Donna, did you say you never tried to quit?"  She
nodded her head.  "How long have you been smoking?"

   Donna rolled her eyes.  "Oh God, I dunno," she giggled nervously.  "I
guess, maybe, like, six years or so."

   "And do you smoke a lot?"

   Looking embarrassed, our pretty waitress shrugged.  "Oh, I dunno, yeah,
probably.  I smoke about a pack a day, I guess."

   "God, that's nothing," I smiled, sitting back in my chair.  "It's hardly
even smoking.  Angela smokes two packs a day.  You're nowhere near as bad as
Angela."

   Donna seemed relieved by my jab about the extent of Angela's addiction.
"God, I don't know 'bout that," Donna giggled.  "I'm pretty bad, actually.  I
do smoke more than a pack a day."  She laughed nervously.  "Lots more,
really," she confessed.  "I smoke nearly as much as you do.  Two packs some
days."  Another pause.  "Lots of days."

   "So, you're a real smoker, then, Donna, just like Angela and me.  I bet you
enjoy it.  Is that why you've never quit?"

   Donna cocked her head.  "Oh, I get it.  You want me to say I love smoking
so you guys can decide not to quit after all?"

   "Yeah, sort of," I needled, with a sly glance at Angela.  "Something like
that.  See, quitting is Angela's idea, not mine.  I said I'd try, but I think
it's dumb.  Angela won't listen and now she's miserable.  I don't think she's
gonna make it."

   "You're not helping, either, John," Angela glared at me.  "Fuck you."

   Donna finally got it.  She grinned.  "Look, it's none of my business," she
said to Angela.  "But if I had a boyfriend like him, a guy who doesn't want me
to quit smoking, I'd be thrilled.  My boyfriend bugs me about it constantly.
God, girl, you don't realize how good you have it!"  She turned to me.  "If it
doesn't work out with your girlfriend, give me a call," she teased, plainly
flirting.  "Because if you were my boyfriend, I'd totally worship you!"

   Angela ignored our waitress' comment.  "Look, I'll have the Chicken Caesar
Salad," she grumbled.  "With fries on the side.  How 'bout you, John?"

   "Uh, the Chicken Club Sandwich.  Fries for me, too."  I winked at Donna.

   "What the hell was that for?" Angela challenged when Donna left.  "You
embarrassed the hell out of me!"

   "I didn't embarrass you.  But Donna's perceptive.  You should consider how
good you've got it, babe.  You ought to give up this inane quitting idea,
Angela."

   She glared.  "John, I'm a firecracker that can blow up any second.  My
nerves are shot.  I don't like quitting.  I'm totally stressed.  So why insist
on acting like an asshole?"

   It was my turn to shrug.  "When I realized that our lovely waitress smokes,
I thought she could give us some insights about the habit you're turning your
back on.  You know, Angela, Donna can't be much over 18.  But six years as a
smoker already?  God, she started young!"

   Angela was fuming.  "You're fuckin' impossible!  If we had two cars I'd get
up and leave you right now!"

   We ate in gloomy silence.  I continued to flirt with pretty young Donna and
she playfully returned the favor by constantly teasing and playing coy with
me.  Donna left our bill and my girlfriend glowered at me.

   "God, I don't believe you.  Shit, why not just ask Donna if you can join
her in the back of the restaurant and share a quick fuck before we go?"

   "Great idea, honey," I smirked.  "But first I'd need to see if Donna will
smoke while we do it.  You know, I used to have this fabulous girlfriend who
was totally into that.  God, I wonder whatever happened to her?"

   "She's still a great girl," Angela snorted.  "But she's not smoking and
she's about to wring your fuckin' neck!"

   I paid the bill.  We left in silence.  Angela was despondent.  Nicotine
deprivation and caffeine withdrawal had combined to make her increasingly
miserable.  It was too early for the movie so I suggested we go home for a
couple hours.  Angela begrudgingly agreed.

   She sat at the computer to read her online newspapers.  I got my latest
Sports Illustrated and settled into my favorite chair in the living room.  She
felt crappy and so did I.  Finally I decided to initiate more conversation
about the subject-that-must-not-be-mentioned.

   "Honey, I must say I'm miserable," I said hopefully.  "How are you
feeling?"

   "Like pure shit," came a grumpy reply from the other room.  "So go fuck
yourself."

   Usually I liked hearing her talk dirty.  But not today.

   "Know what?  I'm just not in the mood to fuck myself," I said
sarcastically.  "I feel more like smoking.  Are you sure you don't want to
just throw in the towel and have a cigarette?"

   I looked up.  Angela was standing in the doorway to the office.  "I will,
but only if we can discuss setting some reasonable limits on the amount that
we'll smoke going forward."

   "Nope.  All or nothing, baby.  We either smoke and drink coffee as much as
we want, or we're miserable.  No middle ground.  Sorry."

   She sighed.  Her hands were shaking.  "Don't you dare underestimate me,
John.  I can be a really stubborn little bitch, you know."

   "Yeah, I see that," I snapped.  "But you'll be a more lovable bitch if you
just give in and have a cigarette."

   "I'm not giving up yet," she grunted.  "No way."

   I smiled.  "God, smoking a cigarette would be so nice, Angela.  Think about
it.  Imagine the fragrant aroma of a delicious menthol cigarette!  It'd be so
nice to have a delectable long drag and suck all that scrumptious smoke
inside.  Wouldn't it?  Mm!"

   Angela scowled.  "Like I said, you dirty bastard, go fuck yourself!"

   We went to the movie at three.  Angela was even more morose by the time we
got to the theater.  The movie she picked was a romantic comedy, the kind of
film she ordinarily loved.  But not today.  She sat stone-faced throughout the
movie.  I never once heard her laugh.

   I felt pretty glum myself.  We left the theater after five.  It was years
since I went all day without a cigarette like that.  If I couldn't smoke, I
just wanted to lay down and die.  Literally.

   As we filed out, a couple in front of us was laughing and talking.  They
clearly enjoyed the movie and acted in sharp contrast to the way Angela and I
felt.

   Once in the open air, the girl reached into her purse and retrieved two
cigarettes.  She handed one to her companion and thrust the other one in her
mouth.  Simultaneously he got his lighter ready.  He lit hers up first, and
them himself.

   Angela was transfixed, her unblinking gaze directed at the happy smoking
couple.  Ambient smoke from their cigarettes reached our nostrils.  Angela
flinched.  Involuntarily she licked her lips in response to the aromatic
fragrance.

   I was tempted to say something to Angela.  But I decided not to.  Meanwhile
the guy and girl began walking toward the parking lot, cigarettes in hand,
laughing and talking.  Since we were in the same lot we followed a few feet
behind.

   The girl dragged on her cigarette for what seemed like a long time.  After
tipping her head to the side she released a nearly endless exhale.  The
fragrant aroma of her smoke washed over us as we walked behind them.  Angela
reluctantly let out a tiny groan.  "Oh God, I need a cigarette _so_ bad," she
muttered in agony.  "I can't stand it anymore."

   Hearing a voice, the girl turned.  She gave Angela a friendly smile.  "Oh,
I'm so sorry.  I hope our smoke isn't bothering you?"

   Angela just stared, her mouth agape.  "No, it's not your fault," she
mumbled almost incoherently.  "It's mine.  I haven't had a cigarette all day
and the smoke just smells _so_ good!"

   As her companion looked on, the girl nodded and smiled as she hit on her
cigarette.  Quite attractive and looking like she was in her mid-twenties, she
reminded me of a taller and brunette Kate Winslet.

   "Too bad," the girl cooed demurely, shaking her head from side to side as
she exhaled.  Her tone was a mix of compassion and ironic scorn.  "Yeah, you
do look totally stressed out!"  She and her companion made no effort to get
out of our way.

   Angela watched in fascination as another voluminous exhale effortlessly
flowed from the young girl's parted lips, quickly dissipating in the breeze.
Again it carried her smoke towards us, and again Angela smelled its fragrant
aroma.  Her mouth tried to form words to reply, but she seemed barely able to
speak.

   "God, I love to smoke," she finally groaned.  "But quitting is pure hell.
I'm not sure I can do it."

   "Yeah, it's difficult," our Kate Winslet lookalike smiled.  "Do you know a
very high percentage of those who try to quit smoking sooner or later
eventually fall back into their old habits?"  She nodded.  "Yep, it's true.  I
tried to quit once myself," she went on after hitting on her cigarette.
"Didn't work.  Didn't even make it a full day."

   "Like me," Angela whispered guiltily.  "I don't think I'll make it through
today."

   "And so this is your first day quitting?  Trying to quit, I mean?"

   Angela nodded.  She seemed hypnotized, the whole time carefully gazing at
the cigarette in the girl's left hand.

   "I'm Maggie Carter," she said graciously, sticking out her right hand to
shake Angela's.  "Nice to meet you.  And your name is ??"

   "Angela.  I'm Angela Sinclair.  This is my boyfriend John Conrad."

   Maggie smiled.  "And this handsome fellow is my fiancé, Ron Golden."  All
of us shook hands.  The entire time Angela stared at Maggie's cigarette.

   Meanwhile I was staring at Ron.  "Say, don't I know you?  You look awful
familiar."

   "I don't know.  I'm an attorney with Sheldon & Crabtree," Ron said.

   "I'm at Caldwell, Williams & Gump.  Yeah, that's right.  You and I worked
together a couple years back on a deal I did for Grand Corp."

   "Oh yeah, sure," Ron nodded, his memory jogged.  "Yeah, I remember.  I
represented the bank that loaned money to Grand Corp. to buy a Knoxville
company two years ago."  He smiled broadly now.  "Good to see you again,
John."

   "Yeah, same here."

   It was too cool.  I couldn't pass up this opportunity.  I had to take
advantage of my good fortune.  "Say, Ron, are you guys interested in getting
together for a drink?"

   He looked at his fiancée.  Maggie just smiled.

   "Yeah, sure, we have no plans," Ron grinned.  "We'd love to join you guys
for a drink."

   I looked at Angela.  She said nothing.  She still had the
deer-in-the-headlights look as she stared blissfully at Maggie's cigarette,
watching the pretty brunette smoke it enthusiastically.

   "Great," I said.  "There's a little bar at Roberts Road and Fifth a half
mile from here."  Ron nodded.  He knew the place.  "We'll meet you there in
five minutes."

   "Fabulous," Maggie grinned.  "We can talk about the movie and shit.  See
you there."

   We climbed in my car.  Angela gave me a look of resignation.

   "You expect me to give in and smoke when we meet Ron and Maggie for drinks,
don't you?" she sighed.  "You want me to, right?"

   I pulled into traffic.  I smiled at her.  She still looked like hell.

   "Angela, you should've seen the look on your face as soon as Maggie and Ron
lit up.  It was priceless.  So yeah, I do expect you to smoke, and I think you
finally will.  Am I right?"

   She squirmed in her seat.  "God, I dunno.  Yeah, shit, I suppose I will.  I
can't stand it, John.  It's overwhelming.  I've never felt this bad.  I've
been miserable all day, but especially during the movie.  Then when Maggie and
Ron lit up outside the theater I just ?."  Her voice tailed off.  She took a
deep breath.  "My cravings have been screaming at me all day, baby, but never
more than right now.  I can't deny them anymore."  Her eyes teared up.  "I
just wanted to set some limits, mostly for me, to keep myself from waving the
white flag and totally giving in to nicotine addiction."  She sniffled.  "If I
smoke when we get to the bar, John, I'm a goner.  I'll smoke constantly and
never stop.  Soon I'll be just as bad as Heather, and probably worse!"

   "Being like Heather isn't so bad, babe," I said, trying to console her.
"She's a great sister and a wonderful person.  Yeah, Heather smokes too much.
But so what?  This last month you did, too.  But I didn't notice anybody treat
you differently because of it."  I smiled.  "And you know, I loved the fact
that you were smoking.  Once you give in, I still will.  I always will."

   "I know," she blubbered hysterically.  "Two weeks ago you referred to me as
a smoker for the first time.  Remember?  At the time I kind of liked it.  It
sounded cool.  I decided I liked being a smoker.  Trouble was, I started to
like it too much, so much it scared me."  From her purse she got a tissue to
wipe her teary eyes.  "I know you want me to smoke, that you want both of us
to, with Ron and Maggie.  God, I want to, too.  But if I do I'll never quit,
John.  Ever."

   "Me, neither.  Angela, I want us to smoke together the rest of our lives.
That's all I want.  It's all I've ever wanted.  I've wanted it ever since our
first night at the hotel in Minneapolis, that night you first smoked a
cigarette with me.  It was so great.  I want to spend the rest of my life
smoking with you, honey.  I mean it."

   It wasn't a real marriage proposal, but Angela caught my drift.  We'd
skirted around the issue of marriage in the past.  She stared at me.  

   "John Conrad.  Are you asking me to marry you?"

   I shrugged.  Romance was never my strong suit.  There were no hearts, no
flowers, and no candlelight or moonlight.  But what the hell!

   "Yeah, I guess I am."

   Angela threw her arms around me.  Luckily we just pulled into the parking
lot or the car would've been toast.  She kissed me over and over.  

   "Oh my God, John.  I'm so happy."  Her misery seemed to have ended for the
moment.  But I knew she needed one more thing to end it for good.

   "Then let's go celebrate with Maggie and Ron, with cigarettes and coffee."

   Angela wiped away the tears.  Now they were tears of joy, not despair.
"Coffee?  What do you mean, coffee?" she grinned impudently.  "Shit, babe,
I'll need coffee eventually.  But right now I mostly need a cigarette.  Or
two."  She sighed.  "Actually, lots and lots of cigarettes."  She gave out an
excited groan.  "God, I hope we can buy some in the bar.  Now that I finally
decided, I want to light up as soon as possible.  I don't think I'll stop
smoking all night."

   She didn't, either.  We fed the cigarette machine inside the bar.  Angela
bought Newport 100's; it had no Salems.  I settled for Marlboro 100's since
the machine didn't carry Benson & Hedges.  Neither of us cared.  At that point
we'd have smoked anything as long as it had tobacco.

   Maggie and Ron got a kick out of our wholehearted reversion back to
nicotine addiction.  Angela smoked like a fiend, lighting up one Newport 100
after another, with no breaks, smoking non-stop.  I wasn't far behind.  The
relief we both felt was incredible.  I swore I'd never try to quit again.  So
did Angela.  And I knew she meant it!

   We had a nice time with Maggie and Ron.  We just seemed to click.
Eventually we wound up having dinner, then more drinks after.  We didn't get
home till ten.  Angela and I were a little tipsy.  On our way home we stopped
at the supermarket and picked up two cartons of Salem 100's and two of Benson
& Hedges 100's.  It was a statement.  Neither of us had any more intentions to
quit or cut back.  We just wanted to smoke.  And we did.

   That night Angela and I fucked like never before.  It was incredible.  She
smoked the whole time.  Angela had a cigarette in her mouth throughout our
foreplay and she continued smoking into each orgasm and beyond.  I'm not sure
but when we fell asleep I think my lovely new fiancée had successfully
polished off two packs, the first Newport 100's and the second Salem 100's.
Not bad for a girl who didn't start lighting up till five in the afternoon!

   Two packs continued as the average daily cigarette consumption for us both.
On weekends, though, Angela smoked far more.  Her fears came true.  She became
as bad as, maybe worse than, her big sister when it came to smoking.  But
Angela didn't seem to care.  She never complained or talked about quitting or
cutting down.  She indeed loved being a smoker, like I always knew she would.

   Angela and I became great friends with Maggie and Ron.  We shared much in
common, not only smoking.  Like Angela, Maggie was a paralegal at Ron's firm.
She and Maggie got together often for lunch downtown.  As she demonstrated
that first time we met, Maggie was an inveterate smoker.  It was one of the
many things Angela loved about her new friend.

   Angela and I got married almost four months to the day after that fateful
Sunday when we tried to quit.  Our wedding was great.  Angela looked stunning
in her long white satin wedding dress.  It was delectably low-cut in front,
which she knew I loved because of the way it showed off her big tits.  Our
friends Steph, Kris, Judy and Maggie were her bridesmaids, and her sister
Heather was matron of honor.  All the girls wore powder-blue long dresses,
also all low-cut.  My groomsmen and I wore traditional black tuxedoes.  My
attendants were my brothers Kent, Sam and Bill, all of whom smoke, and my new
friend Ron Golden.  Blake Pennington was my best man.  Blake was shocked when
I asked him.  After all, he was older than the rest of our wedding party.  But
I wanted him standing beside me.  He was important in encouraging Angela to
smoke in the beginning.  I wanted him in the wedding.

   So our wedding party was all smokers.  I wanted that, and Angela was more
comfortable with it, too.  Both our rehearsal dinner and the wedding went
flawlessly.  In addition to family and friends, lots of people from our firm
joined our celebration.  The whole weekend was memorable, especially for me.
Seeing Angela's beautiful bridesmaids constantly light up cigarettes and smoke
at the reception was great.  I was so ready to fuck my new bride on our
wedding night.  I shouldn't admit it, but visions of Heather, Steph, Maggie,
Kris and Judy all smoking in their exquisite long powder-blue dresses danced
endlessly in my head as I fucked Angela's brains out that night.  Of course,
Angela smoked while we did it.  It was the perfect ending to a perfect
weekend.

   For our honeymoon Angela and I went to Italy for two weeks.  We sat in
outdoor cafés in Florence and Venice smoking and enjoying each other's
company, the scenery and the ambiance.  Coming back home to Nashville was a
letdown, but a necessary one.  Then it was back to work, of course, seeing our
friends in the smoke room and, for me, putting in too many office hours.  Even
so, Angela's addiction to smoking made married life complete as far as I was
concerned.

   That brings us to the present.  You remember when I began this story Angela
had just seduced me in our living room, pulling me away from a contract I was
working on.  With a coquettish little smile she made me smoke one of her Salem
100, although it didn't take much persuasion.  Soon we were naked on the
couch, with Angela on top, going at it like teenagers.  Simultaneously we each
enjoyed Salem 100's both during and after the sex.

   "God, I love you so much, Angela," I said with a satisfied groan.  "You're
the best."

   "Ooh, no, _you're_ the best, baby," she purred quietly.  "After all, you're
the one who got me hooked on nicotine," she said seductively.  "I can't thank
you enough.  I _love_ it!  Shit, you know how much I love smoke and the
nicotine it delivers."  She giggled as she hit on her Salem.  "I can't live
without it anymore.  Or without you, either," she laughed, exhaling.  "I love
you, and I also adore my cigarettes!"

   She dragged forcefully on the cigarette firmly fixed between her luscious
lips.  Angela always seemed to have a cigarette in her mouth anymore.  She
does love to smoke, no doubt, and it only makes me love her more.

   "Honey, I'm the happiest man on the planet.  I love the way you
passionately embrace nicotine addiction."  As I moaned, rivulets of smoke
continually trickled through her slightly parted lips.  "I can't think of
anything I could ever want more than this."

   "Are you sure?" she suddenly asked, raising herself up on her elbows and
looking down at me with a wicked grin.  "Really?  Nothing at all?"

   "No, of course not.  What on earth could be better than this?"

   "I dunno," she answered evasively.  She sat up and grinned.  "I found
something in the closet of our extra bedroom last week that made me wonder."

   I wracked my brain.  God, what was in that closet?  Suddenly I knew.  Shit!

   "Oh my God!  You found ??"

   "Yeah, I found your collection of female smoking videos."  Her voice
betrayed no anger, nary a hint of disapproval.  She as easily might have said
she found my old high school yearbooks.  "Last week when you were in New York
I went though the stuff in that closet, and there they were, a couple dozen
smoking videos and CD's.  I knew you had them, of course.  You never tried to
hide it.  But till I ran across them last week I never watched them."

   Lovely Angela released another exhale.  I gulped.  "Oh my God!  You watched
them?"

   "Yeah, I sure did," she smiled sweetly, hitting hard on her cigarette.
"All of 'em.  Several times, actually."

   "Oh?"  I gulped again.  "Uh, what did you think?"

   "They're fascinating!"  She said it with a trace of impertinence.
"Mesmerizing, really.  I knew of your fetish for smoking, but till I studied
the videos I never understood why you think beautiful girls who smoke are so
sexy."  Crushing her cigarette in the ashtray, she immediately reached for her
pack.  "But finally I think I get it."

   Clearly she was going somewhere with this.  I had no choice but to play
along.  "Yeah?"

   "Yeah, I do," she said smugly.  "You see, once I got into 'em I liked
watching.  I did.  The girls in the videos are so cute, and they sure as hell
can smoke.  They also did a lot of cool things I'd never tried before.  So I
learned a few tricks, baby, some things you might like."

   With a flourish she shook out two Salem 100's.  Instead of giving me one,
she put both in her mouth and let them hang side by side.  "Smoking two at
once never occurred to me till I saw your amazing videos.  But know what?
It's cool!"  She lit both, impetuously letting them dangle in tandem.  "Kinda
sexy, don't you think?"  Her question was rhetorical.  Angela looked great as
smoke gushed from her lips around the twin white cylinders.  "Quite the
nicotine rush, too," she giggled mischievously.  "You like?"

   I groaned.  I _did_ like.  Very much.  "Yeah, Angela, it looks great!"

   She laughed in delighted amusement.  "I knew you'd say that.  Smoking two
is great, so addicting, so naughty!"  She hit on them simultaneously as they
precariously hung there.  "I've always  known you like it when I let my
cigarette dangle.  But I never knew how much of a turn-on it is till I saw all
those pretty girls doing it in the videos."  Exerting pressure on her dual
Salems, she made both cherries burn bright.  "Oh yeah," she moaned, sucking
the smoky residue in her chest.  "God, I watched myself in the mirror for a
long, long time while I practiced doing this.  Looks hot, doesn't it?"

   Never-ending swirls of smoky discharge surrounded Angela's smiling face.
My cock was already stiff as a rod again.

   "Uh, yeah," I moaned.  "You look _so_ hot!"

   She smirked gleefully.  "Yeah, I _do_ look hot.  Babe, I watched your
fuckin' videos two or three times, some more.  I had to.  I wanted to get
myself to where the sights and sounds of sexy girls smoking, all the shit you
love, turned me on, too.  I needed to feel it, honey, the way we share a
passionate love for nicotine.  I had to learn to love seeing girls smoking.
And it worked.  Finally I get it, John.  I really do.  I love watching myself
in the mirror while I smoke now, and I love to see other girls smoke and do
nasty tricks like this."

   Angela hit on both cigarettes.  This time she removed them from her mouth.
As she did she performed a perfect French-inhale, pulling smoke from her open
mouth up into her nostrils.

   She grinned proudly.  "See what I mean?"

   I'd never seen her do a French-inhale.  She looked great!.

   "I want to French-inhale, baby, and smoke two at once for you, too.  It's
so fun," she giggled naughtily.  "So fuckin' sexy.  Also, in one video there's
nothing but nostril exhales.  God, they're stylish.  Very sexy.  Very nice!"
To demonstrate she hit on her cigarettes and expelled powerful twin streams
through both nostrils.  "I want to do all the tricks in the videos," she
whispered.  "All of 'em!  Best of all, I won't do them just for you.  I'll do
'em for me, because they make me feel sexy, so elegant, so nasty!"  She
giggled happily.  "Finally I get it, why you like to see beautiful girls
smoke, baby.  Now I like seeing it, too.  Isn't it cool?"

   My cock was at attention.  "Angela, I don't believe it."  I kissed her
mouth.  "God, you're the sexiest girl in the world.  Thanks so much.  I love
you and I'm so glad you're my wife!"

   "I know, babe," she giggled.  "I love you, too.  That's why I had to study
the videos.  I had to learn what makes you tick, what turns you on, so it
turns me on.  It worked.  Now it does.  I _loved_ watching all those pretty
girls smoke.  It's so fuckin' hot!"  She was clearly pleased with herself.
Having at last finished her dual Salems, she reluctantly put them out in the
ashtray.  "But I'll tell you another secret.  Those aren't the only tricks I
learned."

   "Oh?"

   "Yeah, some of the girls in your videos also play with themselves while
they smoke," she smirked evilly.  "Yeah, the more I watched those lovely girls
fingering themselves, it seemed more and more delicious.  God, I got so turned
on.  I worked on it this week, masturbating and smoking, I mean.  And I'd love
to show you," she said wantonly.  "You won't mind, will you?"

   I nearly had to pinch myself.  Could this be real?

   "Mind?  God, no, Angela, I won't mind.  Shit, the only reason I keep the
videos is because I think they're hot."  I kissed her again.  "You're so hot.
The fact that you like to watch them makes you even hotter!"

   "Mm," she groaned lustfully, licking my lips with her tongue.  "I'm getting
a real rise out of you, baby.  In a second we're gonna have to do it again,
aren't we?"

   Suddenly the doorbell rang.  I startled.  Shit, just my luck!

   Surprisingly, Angela didn't flinch.  "Ah, perfect timing.  I told you
smoking tricks aren't the only thing I practiced this week."  She stood up,
pulled her sweater over her head, stepped into her panties, and walked to the
door.  "Some of the girls in the videos did one more thing, John, and I sure
as hell hope you like it as much as you like everything else."

   I couldn't figure out what she was talking about.  Oh my God!  Unless she
meant ??

   Angela opened the door and smiled warmly at someone just outside.  "You're
right on time, baby doll," she giggled gleefully.  "John, pull your pants on
so I can I invite our friend in."

   I grabbed my briefs and trousers.  I pulled them on.  Still, I was in no
shape for visitors.  But Angela never hesitated.  She opened the door wide.

   In disbelief I watched a lovely brunette walk in.  I blinked.  God, she
looked familiar.

   Angela saw my confusion and smiled.  "John, do you remember Donna?"

   I blinked again.  Oh my God!  It was Donna, the waitress from that
restaurant, the place Angela and I couldn't smoke that fateful Sunday.  What
the hell was she doing here?

   "Hi, John," Donna giggled, amused to see me half dressed.  "Angela told me
that you guys are smoking again.  Oh, you're _so_ bad," she laughed.  "So
very, very bad.  I love it!"

   Angela gave the visitor a brief hug.  "I ran into Donna at the mall last
week, John," she explained.  "It was the day after I watched your smoking
videos the first time."  She led Donna into the living room where they sat
side by side on the couch.  "She and I recognized each other and we started to
chat.  Before long we were having coffee like old friends.  We spent an entire
evening together.  Donna's a lovely girl, John.  By the way, Donna wasn't
lying when she told us she smokes.  Yeah, Donna smokes, all right.  She's a
real kindred spirit.  Anyway, I couldn't help myself.  I just had to tell
Donna all about your delicious smoking videos and how hot I thought they were.
Donna was intrigued.  It turns out she's a very naughty girl.  Lots of the
nasty things the girls in your videos do to each other are things Donna's had
experience with.  Well, I figured you couldn't mind.  You love to watch those
girls doing it on tape.  So I asked Donna to show me how."

   Donna got out a Marlboro 100.  Shamelessly she slid it between her lips and
stared at me.  Speechless, I couldn't help but watch her light up the long
cigarette dangling from her mouth.  Meanwhile, Angela retrieved her Salem
100's.  She settled in on the couch beside our lovely guest.

   "What do you mean, 'show me how'?" I asked.  "Show you what?"

   Angela had just lit up a Salem 100.  "I asked her to show me," she
repeated.  "Like this."

   My beautiful bride turned a smiling face to Donna.  Leaning towards the
brunette smoking beside her, she reached out and rested a hand on Donna's
cheek.  "I know why you love watching your nasty videos so much, John.  I get
it.  Totally.  Watch!"  With no qualms she planted her lips on Donna's mouth.
Donna reciprocated.  They shared a passionate embrace for several moments till
Angela at last disengaged.  Angela stared expectantly.  She clearly thought
I'd approve.  She hit on her cigarette and grinned at me.  "You like?  It's
just like in the smoking videos, baby!"

   My head was spinning.  "Angela, do you mean ??"

   Donna interrupted.  "Don't be an ass, John. You know what she means.
Angela's giving you a present tonight, honey, namely me!"  She let out an
insolent laugh.  "Your wife had me teach her to do the same shit the girls do
in your nasty videos."  She paused to hit on her Marlboro.  "So I taught
Angela how to suck my pussy while we smoke.  Didn't I, darling?"

   Angela laughed, a throaty, impertinent chuckle, unlike any sound I ever
heard coming from my wife.  "Yeah, that's right, Donna.  You sure did.  The
best part is it's even more fun in real life than it looks in the videos."
She grinned and insolently kissed Donna again while looking at me from the
corner of her eye.  "God, John, this really turns you on, doesn't it?  Don't
lie.  I can tell.  Look at your cock.  Shit, though, it should.  I know it
turns me on, big-time, and Donna likes it, too!"  They kissed again.  "We want
to do it with you, baby.  Are you ready?"

   Donna had her cigarette stuck in her mouth while with her hands she stroked
Angela's breasts, vigorously rubbing them through my wife's tight sweater.  In
return Angela ran her free hand up and down Donna's thighs.  I took a deep
breath and tried to respond.

   "God, this is like a live smoking video, isn't it?  You're not kidding,
Angela?  You want to do this?  All three of us?"

   "I want to, babe."  Angela sucked on her Salem.  "It's a way to say 'thank
you.'  You turned me into a smoker and I fuckin' love it.  Now I've been
transformed a second time.  Now I'm a bad girl who likes sex both ways."  She
offered Donna a passionate kiss.  "I love guys _and_ pretty girls who smoke,
girls like Donna."  Another embrace.  "What do you think?"

   Resistance was futile and I knew it.  My cock was doing all my thinking for
me now.  I eagerly got up and joined the two lovely smokers on the couch.

   "Angela, I used to dream about being in a three-way with two gorgeous
smoking females.  I just never thought it'd happen."  Gently I kissed my wife
on the mouth, then locked lips with the lovely Donna.  Kissing both girls
after each other literally made me groan with excitement.  "Oh God," I
cackled.  "You've turned into a very bad girl, you know, Angela."

   "Yeah, I know," Angela laughed mercilessly.  My wife's body was gyrating
rhythmically in response to Donna shameless massaging of her tits.  Gleefully
Angela sucked long and hard on her Salem and inhaled more smoke deep inside
her chest.  She gave Donna a passionate kiss and then turned her head to kiss
me, exhaling the whole time.  "God, isn't it fuckin' great?"

   I had to agree.  It was.  The transformation of Angela was complete.

THE END

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