Under Her Wing, Part 8

Tremblay came into the den and sat down. Both Ken and Sarah were already
there, wondering exactly why it was that she'd sent the kids out with
Gretchen to get dinner. Ken had a pretty good idea, and so did Sarah, but
they'd shared nothing more than small talk while they waited. Sarah was
actually teasing Ken about Gretchen when the older woman strolled in, looking
a little bit apprehensive.
   "I know you're both wondering what I'm doing. I'm not one for long speeches,
so bear with me if I'm a little on the blunt side."
   Sarah lit a cigarette and let herself sink back into the deep cushions of
the couch. As much as she'd been enjoying her time her in Ranford and at the
seminar, she was starting to itch for home. There was a lot of work to be
done.
   "Sarah, you may or may not know who Ken really is- but Ken knows all about
you."
   Two sets of eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. Sarah favoured Ken with
a look of open contempt and leaned away from him.
   "None of that," Tremblay said, her voice harsh and commanding. "Things
haven't worked out exactly the way Ken had planned. Which is to our benefit.
Look, we could all pussyfoot around one another or get this over with and be
friends."
   Abrupt was hardly the word. 
   "The three of us have an opportunity here and-"
   Tremblay looked at Ken, who was nervously twisting his hands and gave every
appearance of wanting to disappear. "For God's sake, Ken, light yourself a
cigarette and try to relax." 
   He did as he was told. Tremblay walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured
out three tall scotches. 
   "I don't drink hard-" Sarah started to say as Tremblay handed her one of the
glasses but the look on the woman's face stopped her objection cold.
   Ken's disappeared in two long gulps. Sarah took a more conservative swallow
and tried to ignore the way the aged scotch opened a blast furnace in her
stomach. She then inhaled deeply and found she liked the way the taste of the
smoke mingled with that of the scotch. A small smile crept onto her face as
Tremblay sat down again.
   "Do you want to tell us who that woman that came here this morning was, Ken
?"
   "I never met her before this morning," he said defensively. "All I know is-"
He stopped. What was he doing ? The high-wire he'd been carefully trying to
balance himself on was now shaking violently. The truth was that he'd spent
all day- another wonderful day with Gretchen- trying hard to decide if he
could really live with walking away from everything he'd spent the last five
years working for.
   Or if he already had.
   "I don't want to do this-" he finally said. He looked at Sarah, looked at
the cigarette in his own hand, thought about how he'd almost instantly
loathed Vivian-	
   "You already have, Ken," Sarah said. She felt herself relaxing. It might
just have been the scotch, or it might have been the realisation of new
possibilities opening up. She exhaled sharply, watched the cloud of smoke
expand like spreading fog. "Let me help you along. You came here to get the
same information Ms. Tremblay gave me."
   He squirmed slightly. There was one questioned answered, but the knowledge
brought no relief.
   "Yes," he finally admitted defeatedly. He took a short, nervous pull on his
cigarette and stubbed it out angrily. "And now I don't know what to do next."
He stood up and began pacing nervously, the same way that he did when he hit
a bad patch writing a proposal. The words were all there, locked in some
cognitive recess, but now there were feelings involved as well and that was a
new sensation. One didn't get attached to a grant, after all.
   "The question is what do the three of us do," Tremblay said.
   "I take this back to Elisa," Sarah answered. "And we find a way to make this
information public knowledge."
   Tremblay started to speak, but Ken cut her off. "I've thought about that.
Who will believe you ? The whole idea of a conspiracy about smoking rights ?
It sounds so fantastic that I can hardly believe it, and I've been in the
middle of it for five years. Smoking is something people either do or don't
do. Nobody thinks about it this way-"
   "Except everyone in this room," Tremblay finished.
   "You seem to have all the pieces," Sarah said. "I don't know how, but you
do. So tell me this. Why-" She hesitated, looked at Ken.
   "I know about the cameo, Sarah."
   Her hand went to her neck instinctively, and she felt an absurd sense of
relief when she felt the chain tight against her neck.
   "Why would they want it ?" Tremblay asked. "Think about it. If they don't
really want to eliminate smoking, why would they want to get that cameo from
you ?"
   Some of the fog of discovery lifted from Ken's thoughts. "Because they want
to stimulate interest in smoking. Everything we- everything the group has
been doing is about controlling distribution. You don't look to control
distribution without also looking for ways to stimulate demand."
   Tremblay nodded. "Exactly. There are millions of people who would never take
up smoking for just as many reasons. You probably think it's magic, don't
you, Sarah ?"
   The school teacher found the notion vaguely offensive, an insult to her
intelligence. She continued lighting another cigarette anyway.
   "I don't believe in magic," she answered, but the response was half-hearted.
"And to be honest, I try not to think about how it works, either. All I know
is the best day of my life was the day I started smoking."
   "I don't believe in magic either," Tremblay said. "Except as a philosophical
construct. Magic is science without explanation. I know that cameo is very
old, that it's been in your family a long time, but however it works,
whatever it does, well, there's a logical explanation. And that's what they
want to know."
   "But they have hundreds of these things, don't they ?"
   "Yes. But the secret remains. Someday, they'll get an hold of one and figure
it out. It could trigger some latent DNA marker. That's always been my
theory-"
   Latent DNA marker ? Ken thought to himself. That wasn't how innkeepers were
supposed to talk. "Just who are you ?" he asked. "Hell, we don't even know
your first name."
   "It's Nora- but you can call me Mrs. or Ms. Tremblay. I used to be a
research scientist with a major pharmaceutical company. But that was a long
time ago and it just wasn't what I wanted to do with my life. Sitting around
talking about cloning recombinant mutating strains got boring. All I really
ever wanted to do was run the Wild Shadows the way my folks did."
   "How did you get involved in all this ?" Sarah asked. "You don't even
smoke."
   "No. Never really liked it. Tried once or twice and decided it wasn't for
me. As to how I got involved, that's none of your damn business. What we need
to focus on here today is solving our little problem. You want answers to all
of life's thorny little questions, you'll have to go elsewhere."
   "I think the information the three of us have-"
   "Not the three of us, Ken. The two of you. I'm out of this loop as of the
end of this discussion. That's why Elisa gave you my number, Sarah. I have
too many other projects- the first of which is getting myself a new computer.
My goddamned motherboard is fried, thanks to the group."
   "I think that the information you and I have," Ken said to Sarah, who was
glowing again as she exhaled a long stream of creamy smoke through her nose,
"is best used in small doses. Plausible deniability is what the group is all
about. How many faces can you put on this conspiracy ? Half a dozen ? And all
those people would disappear tomorrow. You tell the whole story and everyone
will just be convinced that you're crazy."
   "But it's monstrous," Sarah said.
   "It is and it isn't. It's just about money. About people sitting in cramped
back room and smoking cigarettes at a dollar a pop. Doesn't that remove some
of the urgency ?"
   "No. I watch Marta and Debbie and Prissy and the rest of the girls and
remember what it was like when I was their age. You can see how much they
enjoy it-" Finally, Sarah allowed an arch grin to creep onto her face "-and I
see how much you enjoy watching, and I think to myself what it would be like-
They pass a new law somewhere every day. I get carded every time I buy cigaret

tes these days. I've had to go to three different store to buy for the girls
because I don't want to have answer a lot of stupid questions-"
   "That's just an inconvenience," Ken said. Tremblay was sitting back now,
relaxing. They were going to work this out after all.
   "It's also the law. It's just going to get harder."
   "Maybe. But the fact that it's also an inconvenience works in our favour-"
   "Whose side are you on ?" Tremblay asked, wanting to prod Ken down those
last few steps.
   "Both," he said. "Both because I'm the one who will, I think, eventually be
able to put a face on all this."
   "The point is-" he continued, "well, the point is that people don't like
inconvenience. They don't like being told what to do."
   "All the more reason the group, as you call it, will keep passing those
laws. They're going to want this all driven underground, to be made
counter-culture, because that's always where the money is."
   "True. But the farther you let it go, the worse they'll look when the truth
does come out-"
   "Just enough rope to hang themselves with, is that what you're saying ?"
   "Yeah. The trick is not swinging with the rest if them when it happens, at
least for me."
   "You're staying with the group, then ?" Sarah asked.
   "I have to. Vivian is going to make me a very attractive offer, I think.
Walking away from it is-"
   "No less dangerous than what you plan to do, Ken," Tremblay offered. "But
more laudable."
   'I don't know about that. I'm still digesting all of this. But I've always
felt that the more you learn, the more important patience becomes."
   "Is that why it took you almost a week to get Gretchen in bed ?" Sarah asked
sarcastically. She was trying not to like Ken because he'd come here to
betray them, but it was hard work.
   "There is the age difference-"
   Looking annoyed, Tremblay said "Children, can we please stick to the topic
at hand ?"
   "What do you think, Ms. Tremblay ? You gave me that disk ? Did you intend
for me to just sit on all that information ?"
   There was a long pause. Ken finally gave into the temptation to light
another cigarette.
   "Not necessarily. As I said, I just wanted to be rid of it. The appearance
of Vivian this morning-"
   "You know her, don't you ?" Ken asked.
   "Yes and no. I know of her. I hadn't really thought she was the one who sent
you here Ken, that's all."
   "You knew all along ?"
   "Of course. This is all one big chess match. After a while, you can spot a
pawn a mile away."
   That remark hurt Ken's ego a bit, but it was more conditioning than anything
else. The group spent a lot of time convincing you that you were important,
but- What had Vivian called them today ? Foot-soldiers. And foot-soldiers
were always the last to know, weren't they ?
   The question he couldn't answer was why he'd want to keep playing the game.
   All he knew for sure was that he did. 

   Gretchen had amasing hands. Ken was lying on his back, breathing hard,
wondering if his erection would ever go away. He was sure if she touched him
again he would have another orgasm on the spot.
   Her head was arched back, exposing her long, slim, perfect neck. Her eyes
were shut tightly and her own breathing was ragged. 
   He'd discovered something else he enjoyed watching her do and he hadn't been
shy about telling her. She was more than happy to oblige his desires. The
fingers of her left hand were dancing through her long pubic hair. The middle
finger was just inside the vagina, stroking the area he called her g-spot.
She was licking her lips with her tongue and her long red hair was draped
over her breasts. Only her spectacularly hard nipples poked through that
forest of hair.
   He thought there might be something a little odd about enjoying watching her
masturbate, but he didn't care. 
   Naturally, she was smoking at the same time. She was holding the cigarette
close to her mouth, her wrist bent. He'd just lit it for her and it looked
perfect between her fingers. She opened her eyes, leaned her head to her hand
without moving the cigarette, and wrapped her lips around the filter. Her
deep inhale took his mind off what she doing with the other hand completely.
   As she exhaled her bright eyes focused on him. "Finish it-"
   Her left hand found his right and moved it down between her thighs. He sat
up and sank his head into her chest. He pushed her smoky hair aside and found
her nipple with his tongue. She cooed as he began to suckle, the nipple
growing even more erect. He felt the last few quivers with his hand and then
her orgasm came, a long, slow vibration of pleasure. Her free hand pushed his
chin up and they met in a deep, long kiss. She exhaled through her mouth as
the kiss endured, and they traded the smoke until it finally faded.
   As it did, she broke the kiss, turned her head, and inhaled deeply again.
She held the smoke until Ken began to ache. She exhaled through her nose,
directly in his face, just as her left hand crept over the length of his
erection. A simple tweak and he came again, no less intensely than the first
time.
   "Why don't you stay another week ?" she said, small wisps of smoke escaping
from her mouth as she spoke.
   "Do college girls still get married ?" Ken asked breathlessly.
   "I only marry men who smoke," she answered teasingly.
   
   Debbie's mom was the last one to show up at the school. They'd made good
time getting back- almost too good. The girls had seemed disappointed to be
getting back almost an hour early, and Susan had even suggested that it the
van might just have to break down somewhere along the way. The sullen girl
Sarah had come to grudgingly like was not really herself these days. She'd
spent yesterday afternoon lying in an hammock in front of the Inn, letting
the sun's rays fade her vampirish skin to an almost human shade.
   Strangely, it didn't look good on her.
   Sarah and Debbie were sitting on the front steps smoking and laughing about
van pranks when the girl's mother pulled up behind the van in her white Saab
convertible. Sarah watched Debbie and saw that she was nervous despite the
phone call. This would, after all, be the first time her mother had actually
seen her smoke.
   They both stood up as Mrs. Pride got out of the car. She was puffing on a
Virginia Slims and her broad smile washed away any lingering doubts Debbie
had.
   They hugged briefly.
   "Thanks for the pictures, Debbie. I just want you to know that I really am
happy for you- for both of us. How was camp ?"
   Debbie rolled her eyes and gave her mother a little-kids-go-to-camp look.
   "They did call it the Young Writers' Camp, didn't they ?"
   Sarah stepped in. "Well, it was really more of a seminar."
   "Yeah," Debbie added. "It was great. I learned a lot."
   "I can see that," Mrs. Pride said, admiring her daughter's casual inhale.
   "I mean about writing, Mom."
   The three of them laughed and Mrs. Pride looked at Sarah. "I just want to
thank you for spending all this time with the kids. They all just love you,
and I think it's great that you'd take the time to get personally involved
like this. It makes me think that I'd been missing something myself-"
   "Mom-" Debbie said, looking embarrassed.
   "No. I mean it. If I had paid closer attention I would have realised before
that you were ready to start smoking. I'm the one who feels embarrassed. I
owe you one, Sarah. How about the three of us get lunch somewhere ?"
   Sarah thought about the empty refrigerator at home and decided that lunch
sounded like a great idea. Besides, it would keep her from thinking about
other, more important things.
   Was it possible, she wondered, to discover patience over lunch ?

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