House of Cards, Part 2

    The following story is a sequel to "A Second Chance" (posted 19 January
1998). While it is not necessary to read "A Second Chance" before reading the
story below, it provides some background that may not be supplied below in
"House of Cards".

    Also, a special thanks to SSTORYMAN -- for providing me with the
motivation to keep going and all the help during the rigorous editing process.


    House of Cards - Part 2/5


    3. Reflections

    The bedroom was very dark despite the beautiful afternoon outside. Diane
had drawn all the curtains and settled back into the plush pillows of her
large bed. She had just taken her daily Prozac and had completed a prolonged
masturbation session that left her feeling very satisfied and relaxed. She lay
in a dreamlike trance staring at the slowly turning ceiling fan directly
overhead. She was yearning for another cigarette but found herself too drowsy
to get up to locate her pack. Diane wasn't sure if she had been dozing,
sleeping or just daydreaming. Things were still fuzzy. She wondered what time
it was. The alarm clock was still flashing 12:00 from the power interruption
they had had last night from the rain and her Seiko was somewhere downstairs.
The house was so peacefully quiet. As she refocused on the spinning fan, she
recalled back to a happier time when she and Steve had moved into this house
seven years ago....
     
    .....they had just finished making love again. Steve maneuvered very
gingerly as he rolled off Diane. They were both very sweaty and breathing in
quick rhythm together. Diane looked up from her spot on the bed (the spinning
fan, she thought). They had been in their new house only several weeks. Still
newlyweds, they indulged in sex quite regularly as they eased into their daily
routine together in Atlanta.

    "Do you want anything from the kitchen?" Steve asked. "I'm going down to
get something to drink."

    "Is there any coffee left from this morning?"

    Steve smiled and shook his head. "Only Diane could want warm coffee after
lovemaking. I was thinking more of something like Gatorade." He leaned over
and kissed her slowly.

    "Yeah, coffee's good. I'm not that thirsty."

    Steve started to descend the stairs naked. Diane leaned over towards the
nightstand and reached for her pack of cigarettes. She took a long initial
puff and was reminded how good smoking felt in bed after making love. He
doesn't mind, she had to assure herself as she took a leisurely second puff.

    Steve reentered the room with an icy jug of Gatorade and playfully reached
over to Diane and held it against her bare skin. She had just inhaled her
smoke when she shrieked from the cold sensation. "You bozo!" she said feigning
annoyance and smiling the whole time. "Where's my coffee?"

    He produced a cup and saucer in his other hand. "Right here madam," he
said in an exaggerated low voice.

    They sat back in bed, Diane smoking and Steve gulping his cold drink.

    "I think I'm going to go for a quick run before it gets dark. Wanna join
me?" he asked.

    Without thinking, Diane answered, "Sure, how far you going to go?"

    "Oh, not too long, maybe go for 30 or 40 minutes."

    "Not too long? That's more than I've ever run with you." He was trying to
push her she reasoned. He's probably worried about my smoking.

    "I plan to take it easy. Come on, it's going to be a beautiful evening
out."

    Diane took a shallow final puff on her cigarette. As she exhaled through
her nose, she thought to herself, guess there's no chance now of staying here
and finishing this. She stubbed out the half-consumed cigarette and walked
into the closet to put on her running shorts and shoes. Steve had just headed
down the stairs to wait for her.
    _________________

    Diane missed Steve as she lay in bed watching the room get lighter with
the approaching sunrise. She was on her own again while he was off flying to
Europe. Her running routine had taken a dive the last few days, she thought.
No, make that the last few months, she corrected herself. It was true.
Although at one time Diane was up to five miles every other day or so, she was
lucky to be running once or twice a week now. That run with Steve the other
day had nearly killed her, figuratively speaking. He kept saying, "I'm taking
it easy, honest, come on...." but Diane had truly lost her old pace. She had
struggled. She was smoking more now and paying the price.

    Back as newlyweds, there was no "agreement" between them on when or where
Diane could smoke. The "agreement" had come with the arrival of Kristen a year
later. Free from Ron, Diane was able to smoke in the house, in the car and in
front of Steve anytime she pleased. Steve never made any fuss, not even an odd
look or stare. Diane also noticed though that he never seemed to get aroused
like Ron, even when she smoked as sexily as she could manage.

    Diane got up early this morning with the anticipation and excitement of
meeting Steve at the airport later in the evening when his flight arrived from
London. She felt the best thing to do was get right into her running gear and
get in a quick 30 minutes or so before starting her scheduled errands. She
threw on her shorts and laced her shoes trying desperately not to get
distracted. The distraction was her critical need to smoke and she knew it.
Lately, she'd been walking a narrow tight rope between being healthful by
running and smoking whenever the urge came upon her. And, lately, she'd given
in to smoking more than going out the door to run. Looks like another morning
I won't get outside, she told herself with a sneaky smile on her face. Steve
was still gone. There was no guilt. With her running shorts and top still on,
Diane threw herself back on the bed and reached across the nightstand for her
Virginia Slims.

    After her first series of puffs, Diane knew she'd made the right decision.
She reasoned, hey, I may still go running after I finish this while looking
down at the cigarette in her left hand. "Naw," she said aloud, smiling
naughtily as she began another series of puffs.

    The bedroom was cool. Diane settled back under the covers and just
concentrated on her smoking. One puff, she'd exhale in a continual, gentle
stream from her mouth, the next she'd let all the smoke go through her nose.
The third, she'd do a combination of both, re-inhaling her smoke between
bursts. Oh, this was pleasurable, she thought. As soon as her first cigarette
was finished, she lit a second and settled deeper into the bed. I'm going to
do it, she told herself. Almost instinctively, Diane reached down into her
running pants and gently stroked her vagina. It was moist just like she knew
it would be. God, I miss this, she thought. When she had had intercourse with
Ron during their last year and a half of marriage, she had smoked every time.
With Steve, well, he just wasn't into that sort of thing despite his general
acceptance of her. Diane began to rub a little faster. She let her fingers
glide over the top of her clitoris on the upstroke and moaned audibly.
Gradually, her length and frequency of puffs increased. Exhaling was no longer
a concern; the smoke would have to find its own way out. Everything was
starting to come into razor sharp focus. Climax was all that mattered. Harder,
faster, more smoke until finally, with an ear-shattering scream, Diane let go
in a violent orgasm that twisted her from one side of the bed to the other.
Smoke was rushing from her mouth and nose as her lungs struggled to get
oxygen. The massive tension release in her extremities caused her to shudder
even after the orgasm had subsided.

    Quiet again. Breathing softer. Diane had forgotten the cigarette between
her fingers as she stared at the ceiling. The room was very smoky. She
contemplated taking one final puff but instead crushed it out in the ashtray.
After lying in bed for another five minutes, Diane stood up and walked toward
the closet. Her reflection confronted her in the full-length mirror on the
door as she looked herself over from top to bottom. Her outfit was on just as
it was before getting into bed. The running top was hanging back in place over
her sports bra, her shorts were back up on her hips and her shoes and socks
were still on (she never took them off). "Well, I guess I can go for that run
now," she said as she blew a tuft of hair off her face and laughed.
    ________________

    "You sure seem wide awake for having flown all day," Diane commented
during their drive home from the airport.

    Steve was even more animated than usual in the car tonight. He was still
coming down from an adrenaline rush from the flight that he just finished.
"Yeah, a near midair on the approach will do that to you. God, that was
close," he declared.

    "You almost hit somebody?!" Diane reacted, somewhat alarmed.

    "Yeah, we had a visual on short final. Seems approach control cleared us
and a DC-9 for the same runway. Terry and I thought he was on the parallel
approach. I was actually flying when all of a sudden I see this wingtip coming
at us with my peripheral vision. I can still see it. You could even make out
the other pilot in his cockpit!"

    "Did you turn away?"

    "I just pushed the nose down and banked left. It was like slow motion
though. I still thought we'd collide." Steve's voice was trembling as he
recounted the incident. "Then Terry took control and we did the missed
approach. The weird thing was that the TCAS, the collision avoidance system,
never gave us the warning."

    "Did the passengers know what happened?"

    "We told them a little bit. Whenever you do a missed approach, the
passengers know that something's amiss. Once we were on the downwind, I told
'em we had a conflict and turned to avoid it hence the go around but that
everything was okay with the aircraft."

    "Is any of this yours or Terry's fault?"

    Steve stopped dead in his tracks. "Absolutely not! It was that fuckin'
idiot in Atlanta Approach Control. I guess we should have backed him up by
noticing that he cleared both aircraft for the ILS to two-eight right," his
voice trailed off, "but we didn't catch it."

    It was quiet for a time. Then Diane spoke, "Well, at least you're off for
a week, you can forget about it, can't you?"

    "No, this is far from over. Both Terry and I have to meet with the FAA
tomorrow. There's going to be the usual full investigation. Why did the
controller fuck up? Why did the TCAS not work? And, yeah, why didn't we catch
his mistake? God, I hope the media doesn't pick this up."

    "Are you worried?" Diane asked. SHE was certainly getting worried and she
didn't even understand it all.

    "No, not too much anyway. I think we'll be okay. Terry would be the one
they'd hang if we were found at fault. He's the captain. He didn't look too
worried when we left the ops room, at least it didn't show."

    They drove some more in silence. Diane wasn't sure what to say. She'd come
to meet him with some very exciting news but now she didn't quite know how to
break it. It would be awkward bringing it up now given the circumstances.

    They were about 10 minutes from home when Steve spoke again. "Hey Diane,
you still been running while I was gone?"

    "Yeah, a little. Why?" It was true. Diane had run once while he was gone
but certainly not today after her little 'session' in bed this morning.

    "Well, I bumped into Scott today in London before my flight. He'd just
gotten in as we were leaving. Anyway, he wants to do that triathlon that's
coming to Peachtree City in a couple of months. I was thinking that we could
both train for it and actually do it. What do you think?"

    "Do a what?" Diane replied.

    "You know, a triathlon - swim, bike, run."

    Diane vaguely knew what a triathlon was. She'd seen an article in one of
her women's magazines about the big race in Hawaii - the one where they swim
something like two and a half miles, bike for 112 then run a marathon before
crawling across the finish line usually after dark. The race was open to both
men and women even though they called it the Ironman.

    "There's no way EITHER of us could get in shape for a race like that in
two months, Steve." She was tempted to add, especially since I'm smoking
almost a pack a day with no intention of quitting. However though, because of
today's events, she was probably going to have to quit, even sooner than she'd
intended.

    "Sure we could," Steve said optimistically. "It'd help if you'd join me."

    "Yeah, right. I will never run a marathon, not even close. I don't have
any desire to do something that, how do you say, foolish?"

    "Marathon? Oh, no, you've got it all wrong. This isn't the Ironman. The
course is a lot shorter. I think Scott said it was less than a mile swim, a 25
mile bike and only a 10K run."

    Diane laughed. "Oh, is that all? The hell with training, I could do one of
those tomorrow," she said sarcastically.

    "Seriously Diane, will you train with me? It'd mean a lot. You don't have
to do the race but I think it'd be fun to train together."

    Diane had no intention of doing something this demanding, this ridiculous.
She wanted to tell him but she could see how serious he was. All of a sudden
she just burst out laughing.

    "Come on, I really thought you'd support me in this. Don't laugh," he said
meekly.

    "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing. Honestly. I just don't have the passion for
all this like you do, honey." She was sorry. She could see it hurt him.

    "Are you afraid you'd have to quit smoking or something?" Steve blurted
out. "'Cause you probably would, you know."

    All of a sudden Diane's softness for him quickly faded. Defense shields
were coming up. "Is that the plan? Do the race, get Diane to stop smoking?"

    "It certainly is not. I just thought if you got into it with me that you'd
probably quit on your own."

    "Oh, so you admit that it IS part of your plan?" Diane retorted.

    Now Steve was getting irritated. What started out as good intentions on
his part had turned into this, the makings of their first true argument. And
it was just like his family had predicted when they got married, that it'd be
over her smoking.

    "Oh, she smokes?" his mom had said when she first found out during their
engagement.

    "Yeah, so what mom? I love her."

    No one in the McConnell family had smoked.

    "Son, believe me, having only one member in a relationship that smokes
will cause problems."

    "So, maybe I should start smoking then, huh ma?"

    Mrs. McConnell knew her son too well for that to happen but nonetheless,
she gave him a dirty look. Now, infuriated with Diane's stance on the issue,
he was beginning to understand his mother.

    "I don't have a plan," he said to Diane. "Just forget it."

    Something in Diane decided to give way. She'd been too quick to go on the
offensive and didn't really understand why. Now she was sorry. She realized
that she was in fact going to have to quit smoking. But it was not because of
Steve and his triathlon. It was because....well, "Steve, I've got something to
say. I've got some news."

    He recognized her earnestness. They had just pulled into the driveway. He
stopped the car, shut off the engine and looked her directly in the eyes.
"Yes?" he asked.

    "I'm pregnant."


    4. Off, Then on Again

    Steve could not imagine any better news. Diane actually thought she
detected a tear or two from Steve, which made her start to cry. He was so
elated. Both Diane and Steve had wanted to have a child early in the marriage
- he probably more than she. Diane was happy, happy for both of them.

    Now she was sitting alone at the kitchen table in a nightshirt sipping her
morning coffee and flipping through one of her woman's magazines. Steve had
just left to head back to Delta for the debriefing on his near mid-air
collision from the night before. I'm lucky, Diane thought. Lucky that I wasn't
made a widow last night...lucky that I've got a man like I do. As corny as it
sounded, Diane was appreciative of what she had. In fact, Steve had been a
steady daily reminder of just how awful she had it with Ron. Steve was a good
man, a good man with strong character. She knew from their first date that
this was a guy that could be trusted. Steve was practically brimming with
integrity and innocence. He would look anyone he talked to straight in the eye
yet he radiated compassion and sincerity. He was that kind of person that you
could tell anything to and would feel good about it later. Diane pondered this
while she lit what was probably going to be one of her last cigarettes for a
very long time. She was nervous.

    How tough is this going to be?

    Diane had never been faced with the prospect of quitting smoking since she
started for Ron only three years ago. She just smoked whenever she felt like
it or whenever he allowed it. Gradually, the addiction had built up. When Ron
put his foot down and said no more smoking in the house, she just moved
outside. When she got married to Steve, she cut down to six cigarettes a day
but never quit. Quitting was never considered - it was not an option to her.
I've just started, Diane reasoned. Why think about quitting so soon? Having
children was about the only true reason, she guessed.

    Well, the future's here.

    God, she dreaded it. The more depressed she got, the more she wanted to
smoke. She took an extra long puff on her cigarette and inhaled slowly and
deeply. Eyes closed, she let the smoke rest in her lungs while eagerly
anticipating the oncoming nicotine rush. At first her extremities tingled,
then her cheeks. Experiencing the pleasure of the moment, Diane followed with
a rare second long puff before exhaling her first. I need this, she
rationalized. Things were now coming into clear focus. This was the wonderful,
albeit temporary feeling that she craved. The room swirled about her. Not
wanting to let the huge amount of smoke out just yet, Diane sipped her coffee,
tipped her head up and began the pleasurable exhaling process. The smoke came
from her body in characteristic successive bursts as she re-inhaled each time.

    Diane knew why she had picked up the magazine sitting in front of her. She
had retrieved it from a stack that had been sitting on the coffee table for
several weeks. There was an article near the back titled, "Are You Still
Smoking?" It was written for women trying to quit in these modern times when
smoking was no longer cool. Health and fitness were in, smoking was out, so
the title implied. Diane thought there might be some tips, some motivation
lurking somewhere inside on just how to undertake such a seemingly
overwhelming task. Before she started reading, she put out her cigarette.

    The article discussed the options available for the woman trying to quit.
It first explained that tests showed that because of genetics and various
hormonal differences, woman have a much harder time trying to quit smoking
than men, this being especially true when the woman becomes pregnant. Great,
Diane thought, I've got an even tougher uphill battle. She knew that that
statistic would play with her mind over the next few weeks as she tried to
wean herself from nicotine. Big help, she noted as she shook her head.

    "There are two options - with or without drug assistance. If you are
pregnant, it is recommended that no stimulates be taken during the gestation
period. This includes all forms of prescription and over-the-counter nicotine
related tablets, gum and patches." Diane had never thought to consider the
patch. She just didn't think she was as physically addicted as she was
mentally. The author continued by saying that the only real option left to
drug-assisted abstinence besides "cold turkey" was to alter your smoking
mechanics. How clinical, Diane thought. Altering mechanics meant changing your
style, shorter puffs, shallower inhales (no inhales better), quick exhales and
smoking only half your cigarette.

    What's the point?

    The whole point was to keep limiting the amount you smoke until you quit.
The author, a female, was very proud to say that this is the method that she
used and she did it in five short weeks.

    Five weeks? I can't smoke that long. Steve would be all over me for
smoking that long while I'm pregnant. I've got to quit this week.

    She was getting frantic. Diane allowed herself one more cigarette while
sitting at the table. She decided to try to practice altering her style in
accordance with the article. I won't inhale this puff, she reminded herself
while drawing in. As she removed the filter from her lips, the smoke
instinctively went right to her lungs.

    Shit.

    She couldn't do it, she just couldn't help herself. After several more
puffs, she found it much harder to just blow the smoke out rather than inhale.
Ha, a lot of good THIS technique is. She took a long, defiant puff and inhaled
deeply. Stubbing the cigarette out in her ashtray, she rose from the table and
went to put on her running gear. Smoke wafted in her wake on the way into the
bedroom.
    ________________

    "So how are you doing, are you showing yet?" asked Carole.

    "Oh yeah. Plus, she's kicking me constantly, especially at night just
before bed. But I'm not complaining, this has been a textbook pregnancy so
far."

    "Mom said you had a sonogram. What'd they do that for?"

    Diane's sister Carole had just called as she was headed for the grocery
store. Diane didn't mind talking to her sister but the calls usually lasted
for at least an hour and she had plenty to do today. "Yeah, my OB thought he
heard two heartbeats so he wanted to check for twins."

    "Twins!? What'd they find? God, can you imagine having twins?

    "I'm not having twins. I told mom that. They did tell me that it's a girl,
or at least it's a 90 percent chance. Steve didn't want to know but when I
insisted, he said okay. He's funny that way. I think he likes surprises."

    "Have you picked out a name yet?"

    "We've got it down to about three or four. I like Kristina, Steve wants
Valerie but he's not too set on it. He says, 'what if it's a boy, there's
still a chance, you know?' I think he still wishes we never found out."

    "I've always liked the name Carole," she added with a slight chuckle.

    "Naw....," Diane laughed back.

    They both shared some more levity over the phone until Diane sensed an
awkward silence. She suspected that Carole (who was three years older) was
wanting to get to something more serious. Even though Carole had been letting
Diane go on today about her pregnancy, she usually dominated their phone
conversations, especially if she was the one who called. Now it's her turn,
Diane thought.

    "When did you say the due date was?" Carole finally asked.

    "Eight weeks, May 24th."

    More silence. Something's definitely coming. Diane knew it.

    "Wow, just two more months. It's getting close, huh?" Carole continued.

    "Yeah, two more months," Diane said with slight sarcasm.

    Carole knew she had to ask now. She'd promised mom. "And you're not still
smoking, are you?"

    Diane closed her eyes. Yeah. Yeah, it figures, this is what she called
about. Mom put her up to this.

    It was an easy question to answer but she didn't want to. Diane HAD quit.
It was about a month after she found out that she was pregnant when she smoked
her last cigarette. She had successfully weaned herself using the technique
(sort of) that she got out of her magazine. She was actually proud of herself
but caught hell from everyone that knew she was pregnant and smoking during
that last month. Her mom, her sister and Steve all had given her encouragement
to quit along with a load of grief and guilt.

    In Diane's mind, the issue was closed and not open for re-inspection. She
hadn't smoked for almost four months. And now Carole has the gall to check up
on me, she thought.

    "STILL smoking Carole? I quit before Christmas. You and mom know that. I
don't understand," Diane said firmly.

    "We're just wanting to keep encouraging you, that's all. It's great you've
been able to stay quit, that's all," Carole said, slightly back-peddling.

    Okay, she's got what she wants. She can call mom now, Diane thought. She
was tempted to unload, give Carole a blast right back in her ear for even
bringing it up but she didn't. She still respected her sister and didn't want
to jeopardize their fairly close relationship. Diane hadn't met many friends
since moving to Atlanta. She remained civil.

    "Are we done now?" Diane asked.

    "Well, yeah, I guess. I'm sorry. I don't want you to take offense. I
really am proud of you." It sounded sincere.

    Diane hesitated a bit, then continued. "It hasn't been easy, you know. You
and mom have never smoked. You don't just put your cigarettes down and walk
away. It's probably been the toughest thing I've had to do."

    "You sound like you're still thinking about it."

    "Of course I think about it Carole. I think about smoking every day. The
only help has been I think about it a little less each day."

    "Are you going to start smoking after the baby?" Carole asked softly.

    Diane's immediate answer in her head was yes. There was no question about
it. However, she didn't feel comfortable being completely honest with Carole
over the phone. "Oh, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I'm just
taking one day at a time." Again, Diane knew all her responses were being
recorded by Carole and would be played back to mom in a later conversation.

    "God, Diane, you can't smoke with a newborn in the house. Can you?"

    Diane was getting sick of this inquisition. Despite wanting to keep the
close relationship with her sister, this was crossing the line. "Thanks for
calling sis, (she never called Carole 'sis', that was always Carole's
expression), I think it's time to end this little conversation," she said
icily, then slammed the receiver down.

    The house was silent again. She could practically hear the phone still
ringing from her slam. The tears began, just a few as she reached for her
Kleenex.

    In these last few months, Diane had really depended on her sister's
friendship. They talked on the phone at least once a week and she always felt
better after getting off....except for today. She'd been slow to make any
friends in their new location even though their neighborhood seemed nice
enough. Most of the other women that stayed at home during the day were moms
with young children. The rest worked outside the home and were gone all day.
No one else she knew stayed at home alone. She suddenly felt thankful that she
was pregnant. At least I will fit in better, she thought. The truth was, these
moms with their little toddlers scared her. They seemed nice but there was
this air of superficiality in their conversation, in their liveliness....like
they were drones just going through the motions or something, carrying their
painted-on smiles (see how happy I am!) upon on their faces.

    (Linda)

    God, where'd that come from? She hadn't thought of Linda in years. Linda
was the antithesis to the moms that Diane had observed in her neighborhood.
Linda was a hard-living, no excuses woman that had never been, nor would ever
be, a mom. Despite the mess that Linda had caused in her previous marriage
(the best thing that could've happened to me, Diane reminded herself), she
admired Linda's character, her spunk. Linda was no drone. She was intimidating
in her own way yet she was also a leader, the one that everyone liked. Linda
was the one that introduced Diane to the many pleasures of smoking. And even
with all the bad blood that existed between her and Linda during the divorce,
Diane still was thinking that she admired a person that could take on life
with all the vigor and 'fuck you' attitude that Linda radiated. Diane thought
that she wanted to be a "kinder, more gentler" Linda and not like the
automatons on her street. She recognized that smoking gave her a chance to
show some assertiveness in her life and not conform to the politically correct
"young mother" scene. I'm going to be a young mother, Diane thought, but she
resolved to buck the stereotype. I'm also going to be a smoker again after the
baby.
    ________________

    It was shaping up to be a good dream. Diane was vaguely aware of being in
a dimly lit, smoky bar holding a cigarette in her right hand (but I'm a lefty,
she told herself). Everything had a very surreal swirl to it. There were
people at her table but they were all strangers. She didn't recognize anyone
in the room at all. This is good, she felt. No one will give me shit for
smoking.

    The music was drowning out most conversation but it wasn't all that loud,
it was as if her hearing was muffled. She looked down at her cigarette. It had
just been lit.

    Funny, I don't remember lighting it.

    Nonetheless, this was her moment. It had been so long since she had smoked
and now here was the perfect chance. A bar, strangers, strange men, some were
actually watching her. She raised the long white cigarette towards her mouth.
Her body shuddered in anticipation of what she knew was going to be a very
long first puff. Gradually, the muffled noises gave way to a much harsher,
urgent sound. The light in the bar grew dimmer still. Diane sensed that the
cigarette was just about to touch her awaiting lips when all of a sudden there
was something that resembled a power failure. The music sank like a phonograph
record was slowing down. The bar and everyone in it was fading to gray.
Someone, somewhere was crying. It was a baby.

    "The baby," Diane murmured softly.

    "Relax honey, I've got her. It's my turn," Steve said gently in her ear.

    "Oh, God. It was a dream."

    Steve smiled at her and got up to fetch the baby's formula.

    The warm feeling that the dream had supplied was still lingering as Diane
lay alone on her side. She was relieved that Steve was off the flight schedule
for a few days and would be at home helping her with the baby. She rolled onto
her back and pulled a pillow over her face. Damn, I was so close, she thought.
The dream's euphoria was fading as reality slowly gave way. In actuality,
Diane was not yet smoking in real life and it had been nearly six weeks since
she delivered a very beautiful baby girl. She had promised herself that she
would assert her right, her need to smoke. The fact that she wasn't had
nothing to do with any strong willpower on her part. Everyone had been so
helpful and encouraging during and after the birth. Diane sensed that Steve,
and especially his mother, were leaving mild hints on the importance of
leading an active and HEALTHY lifestyle -- that smoking had no place in a home
with young children -- although it was never spoken.

    Diane had not been prepared for the amount of time a baby demanded. Both
families had pitched in for several weeks following the birth but now she and
Steve were on their own. Steve was being a dear though. He always did his
share and more when he wasn't flying.

    "Going for a quick run....baby's back down asleep, be back soon," Steve
said softly in her ear as he re-entered their bedroom.

    "Okay, have fun sweetie," Diane mumbled before rolling back over on her
side wishing that dreams could be brought back on command.

    The room was getting lighter. Diane decided to get up and at least have
breakfast ready for Steve when he got back from his morning jog. It was the
least she could do.

    Now standing at the counter carefully scooping out coffee and dropping it
into the filter, Diane decided that she couldn't stand abstinence any longer.
She would start smoking today and she would tell (not ask) Steve this morning.
The dream had no doubt been the catalyst. She was tired of all the pretending
to herself that she would be better off staying quit for good. God knows, she
had received so much propaganda from family members that it had outweighed her
own desires. The pressure had worked though. That is until today. Both sets of
parents were in different states now. Gone was the stressful, albeit helpful
string of visits that had diverted so much of her free time following the
delivery. No, Diane had not smoked a single cigarette for seven months.

    "I've been a good girl," she said aloud then made a face.

    She was confident that an arrangement could be made, perhaps a compromise
with Steve. She also held out hope that Steve would become more of an active
player as he had been when they were dating. Diane longed to make love with
him again and be allowed to smoke at the same time.
    ________________

    "You want to what?" he asked almost incredulously. Deep down though, Steve
knew this day would arrive yet he was still caught off guard. That was Diane's
plan.

    "I just told you. Steve, please don't make this harder than it already
is". Diane caught herself. "What am I saying, harder? I actually hoped you'd
say, 'sure, you've been good throughout your pregnancy, go ahead if you'd
like.' It's not like I want to smoke all the time. I understand that there are
limitations, that I need to be careful." Diane spoke slowly and stared down at
her slippers thus avoiding eye contact.

    Steve walked over to the sofa and sat down next to her. He stroked her
pretty blond hair, kissed her on the forehead and said, "I'm sorry."

    Diane looked up at him. She felt something twist inside her stomach. She
hoped he was letting up, coming to an understanding maybe. "I'm sorry?" she
asked. "For what?"

    Now Steve was unsure of himself and the ground that he was on. "I don't
know. Sorry that I just don't agree with you, I guess." He spoke slowly.

    "Steve, I know we're married and all and this definitely affects you but,
well, I feel like it's really my decision. Again, it's not like I didn't smoke
when you met me. You knew what you were getting into."

    "Yeah, and you said you were going to quit, or cut down or whatever you
promised." He spoke slightly faster with an exaggerated tone. "If you start
now, how do you plan to get back into shape?"

    "I never promised I'd quit when we got married. I did say I'd cut down.
And I DID."

    "You DID? I don't think you did." The dialog was proceeding rapidly
between them.

    "What do you mean? I went from a pack a day when we got married down to
five or six a day. PLUS, I started to run with you. I never ran before in my
life."

    "You were smoking a pack a day when we got married?" Steve said after a
slight pause.

    Diane nodded her head, then looked down at her slippers again. "It wasn't
'til we moved here did I get down to six." She looked back up, "but I can do
it again, I know I can."

    "Sure, you're starting from ground zero. Are you certain you want to give
up all the headway you've made? Seven months is a long time. You still think
you're addicted?"

    Diane thought carefully about what Steve had just said. She could easily
answer both his questions but felt she needed to give a very detailed account
as to what she was truly feeling inside. "You know, some things are tough to
admit. This is hard enough just for me to say to myself and it's going to be
harder to say to you but, well, here goes,

    "To answer your second question first, yes, I'm addicted. I'll always be
addicted. The craving for nicotine is only part of it, you need to understand
that. I'm just beginning to, myself. I'm addicted to the rush I get in the
morning, the taste of my first cigarette of the day mixed with my coffee, the
simple pleasure of watching the smoke as it leaves my body. I'm addicted to
the sensation and feel after an extra long puff, the confidence I get when I
smoke in public and know someone is watching and appreciating, the pleasure of
smoking after sex and, yes, I have to say, the pleasure of smoking during
foreplay and even intercourse." The last admittance made Diane wonder if she'd
said too much, gone too far. Nervously, she continued.

    "Now, as far as your first question, yes, I want to give up all the
'headway' I've made. Headway is your term. In my mind, I've been backsliding,
I've lost ground." She paused and smiled at him. The backsliding part was a
quick jab at humor.

    Steve just blankly stared back at her so she continued.

    "Steve, like I said, I know I now have limitations. I'll be a responsible
parent. I don't plan on smoking in the house (although I'm not sure, she
thought) and Kristen will never see me smoke, even when she gets old enough to
know what's going on." Diane took a breath then decided to rest.

    Steve was grappling with the entire little speech. Obviously she'd
prepared to give it for quite a while. He knew he was being presented with a
deal, a compromise and that he'd have to agree in part to some or all of it.
"Well, you certainly know what you want, don't you?" he finally said giving a
slight grin. "I'd like to know a couple of things, okay?"

    "Sure, honey, anything." Diane was feeling slightly liberated.

    "Will you still run, either with me or on your own?"

    This was an easy piece to give up. Diane knew that she was out of shape
from carrying the baby to term. She hadn't smoked in seven months but she also
hadn't worked out in seven months. She was 15 pounds over her usual 117.
Smoking AND running would shed her weight gain in twice the time she reasoned.
"Yes, I'll start running again.... maybe you could get me one of those jogging
strollers like I've seen other runners use. You could use it too."

    There was a long pause as they sat and looked at each other. Diane sensed
correctly that she wasn't going to get off that easily.

    Another question from Steve, "Aren't you concerned with the long term
effects? When will you quit for good?"

    Diane thought about this for a time. "I've only smoked for three years.
Plus, I've smoked mostly the 'light' brands. PLUS, I will only be smoking
about six a day, right? So, when will I quit? I don't know, I just haven't
thought of that as an option."

    "I'd like you and I to agree that at some point in the future, maybe in
'X' years that you'll quit for good. It's just a health risk that I don't want
us both to have to endure."

    Diane saw this as an open-ended term and quickly agreed. "Sure honey, at
some point, 'X' years as you put it," she smiled broadly, "I will try to,
uh...no, I WILL quit." She leaned towards him. "Thank you!" Quickly her mind
raced as to where she'd buy her first pack and where she'd smoke first.

    "Not so fast," Steve said smiling back. He leaned back and kissed her on
the lips. "'X' years needs to be defined," he said.

    Some of the wind left Diane's sails. "You mean now, today?" She was
tempted to say X equals 100 but saw Steve was serious.

    "Yeah, I'd like to finish this discussion so we don't have to come back to
it later. I guess we don't have to say that in a finite number of years you
will stop. I'm thinking more like when you get pregnant with our next child or
something. What do you think?"

    Diane only was half paying attention. While he was speaking, she was
practically in a trance visualizing just where and how she was going to smoke.
In less than an hour from now, I will be inhaling smoke and watching it as it
leaves me, she daydreamed. She was excited.

    "Diane, did you hear me?" Steve broke-in.

    "Oh, yeah, sure. I agree, our next child. Okay."
    ________________

    It's funny how life widens then narrows down to a single important event,
then seems to widen again, Diane thought as she backed her blue Miata out of
the driveway. Everything she was doing at the moment was being focused for one
purpose. Nothing else mattered at all, not until this mission was completed.
However, this mission was focused on the pursuit of pleasure, of happiness.
How does it go? 'Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness'. Diane thought
Thomas Jefferson must've known something about smoking when he drafted the
Declaration of Independence. She was feeling free again.

    Right now she had her blue sports car pointing at the nearest convenience
store, the local Quick Trip for her purchase of several things actually. She
had this eager / nervous feeling in her stomach as she sped along the access
road that led from their subdivision. She smiled from under her sunglasses.
She liked feeling nervous, maybe giddy was a better description, about getting
to smoke again - kind of like a teenager doing something bad. I never smoked
as a teenager, she reminded herself somewhat regretfully.

    Everything was planned in her mind since this morning. She'd only be gone
an hour or so. She wanted to smoke her first cigarette in private and not at
home too close to Steve. This bothered her. Even though they'd worked it out,
she still felt there was a wall between them on this subject. And this made
her mad, damn it. Steve's attitude was getting eerily close to Ron's
concerning her smoking. What made her really furious inside was that Steve
seemed so accepting of her habit when they'd met and started dating. She
smoked all the time around him and he never batted an eye. Even though Steve
confessed to smoking when he was in college, she had her doubts that he did.
She suspected he admitted it only to appear like 'everything's cool', that
nothing was a problem. Ha, they'd made love for the first time that night. He
just wanted in my pants, she reflected. Still, Steve never made a fuss until
they were about a year married. He was honestly getting pressure from his mom
and other family members. God knows, Diane could feel it too. Then the baby
came. To continue to smoke throughout the pregnancy would've been matrimonial
suicide, she realized, even though she considered continuing. Is this suicide
now? Diane wondered. It doesn't matter. I'm not turning back.

    The counter display was so tantalizing to Diane as she walked through the
door. She'd avoided going into any convenience stores in the last seven months
just to stay away from the colorful, highly visible array of cigarette packs
placed strategically around the register. How could anyone resist the
temptation to pick up a pack or two? There were many brands on display but the
one that obviously drew her in was her familiar Virginia Slims. Diane
suspected that Philip Morris paid a pretty penny for the best counter real
estate in these stores. Directly within her easy reach were dozens of packs of
the various brands. She pondered her choice.

    Do I want the 120s? SuperSlims? Lights or regular? One of each? She smiled
wickedly. No, not one of each, I can't.

    The young female counter clerk asked if she could help Diane.

    Diane smiled back. "Yes, I'll take these and this package of lighters".
Diane reached for a pack of her usual Virginia Slims Menthol Lights and a pack
of the 120s.

    The clerk gave a double take at the 120 mm pack and said in her sweet
southern twang, "Oh, I jest started smokin' those, they're a lot of fun,
'specially 'round parties, you'll enjoy 'em."

    Diane handed over a ten and smiled back. She still wasn't used to the
Georgia accent. "I plan to," she said as she took her change and strolled
outside.

    Her key actually shook in her hand as she unlocked the Miata's car door.
Again, Diane just smiled. She knew why and she savored it. Once in the car,
Diane set the two packs of cigarettes in the passenger seat and headed for
Houston's (pronounced House-tons by the locals). Houston's was a local chain
restaurant that resembled a Chili's or Bennigan's. Diane liked it because it
had a separate smoking section that didn't place you in the bar area like most
places did. Diane wasn't very hungry. She just needed a place away from the
house to smoke and maybe enjoy several cups of coffee.

    Houston's was doing a fairly brisk business this Saturday afternoon. Diane
walked up and asked rather meekly for a table for one. Despite the crowd, she
was able to be seated in the smoking section without delay. In fact, they gave
her a small booth. Perfect, she thought as she lifted the little foil cover
from the green-striped box of cigarettes. Just then the waiter, a blond young
man about 21 or 22 with a surfer haircut and stud in his left ear, appeared
and set some water on the table. "Welcome to Houston's." Then he asked very
politely, "Can I get you something else to drink?"

    Diane looked up and noted his nametag read 'Jason'. She smiled in a very
friendly manner said, "Yes Jason, I'll just have some regular coffee for now."
She handed the menu back indicating that she wasn't going to be ordering from
it.

    "Yes, ma'am." He turned to leave.

    Diane thought she noticed him staring at the unlit cigarette in her hand
then wondered if she should have ordered some food. This guy's working mostly
for tips. Maybe I'll get something later. Her only concern now was to get
smoke inside her, lots of it.

    Five minutes had passed since Jason disappeared and Diane was floating.
There was no other word to describe it. Every sensation that she had longed
for had returned. She felt happy, energetic, confident, even sexy. There were
no ill effects from the massive amount of nicotine she was ingesting. Her body
readily accepted every deep inhale and eagerly waited for the next. Smoke was
rapidly filling up her corner of the booth in the restaurant. It flowed gently
from her mouth directly under the bright light suspended over the table. Then
it just sort of hung in the air. Every bit of her smoke was illuminated
perfectly. Just the way I planned it, she noted. Another sip of coffee was
followed by several more long puffs. Diane was especially pleased with the way
the smoke looked under the light. It seemed to be coming from inside her on
every exhale, sometimes heavy, sometimes light but always present. She played
with her smoke some more. She tried different inhaling techniques. Anything
that pleased her, she eagerly tried again. She savored the moment. It was
wonderful.

    Then suddenly, without warning, Jason appeared at the table just as she
started a puff on her third cigarette. Damn, she thought as she quickly
inhaled. She'd briefly lost touch with the surroundings during her little
smoking session. She had been puffing away like she was home alone, out of
everyone's view. She knew that most people didn't smoke this voraciously in
public and she was embarrassed.

    "I'm sorry," said the waiter, clearly aware that he'd intruded on
something private, "Will there be anything else today?"

    Diane quickly blew her smoke out towards the opposite side of the table,
looked up and said invitingly, "What would you recommend?" She thought her
best course would be to act nonchalant, maybe even a bit aggressive.

    "Well, the dessert's are pretty good. I could, uh, bring you some more
coffee." The kid was clearly flustered yet becoming very interested --
aroused, Diane thought.

    "Okay, I'll try this." She held up a picture on the plastic dessert menu.

    "Oh, the Mississippi Mud Pie, it's excellent. I'll bring you some more
coffee to go with it."

    Diane decided to keep smoking but under slightly more normal conditions.
She took another medium drag, snap inhaled and spoke, "That'd be great," in a
husky voice. Then she let her smoke go.

    I'm having fun, she thought. Diane sipped the last remnants of her coffee
and scanned the tables. No one seemed to be paying attention to her. She was
somewhat relieved considering how she'd lost it only ten minutes ago. Her
disassociation with the restaurant had lasted through two complete cigarettes.
A normal fetisher would've loved THAT show, she suspected. A second glance
around revealed no male fans. However, what Diane did notice made her wistful
of earlier times with Linda. Sitting across from her, two booths down were two
women just talking, laughing and smoking. They were enjoying each other's
company and the restaurant's lively atmosphere. Diane remembered outings like
this with Linda in her 'previous' life. They'd sit in coffee shops and smoke
for what seemed like hours, flirting with men, laughing and gossiping. She
missed that, she felt with a sigh. She missed a smoking partner.

    "And here we are with the Mud Pie," Jason spoke as he arrived on the scene
again. Diane had just placed her fourth cigarette in her mouth as was getting
ready to light it.

    "Allow me," Jason said as he reached into his white apron and produced a
Bic lighter.

    This surprised Diane. She glanced up at him, pulled her hair back from her
face and let him proceed. As Diane drew on the cigarette, she intentionally
maintained eye contact. Jason returned her gaze. After about five seconds,
Diane removed the cigarette, opened her mouth and let Jason see a ball of very
dense smoke disappear deep inside her. Jason awkwardly shifted his position on
his feet but never quit staring.

    I have to know, thought Diane. Without exhaling, she started a second long
puff. Jason's pants began to bulge visibly even through his apron. Diane blew
out just a bit of the huge amount of smoke that was swirling in her lungs in
his direction. She asked, "So, this stuff's really good, huh?" in a throaty
voice, looking at the Mud Pie.

    "Uh...yeah." Pause. "It's.....excellent." Jason let the word 'excellent'
slide out very slowly in his teen drawl.

    Diane continued her multiple exhales while poking at the dessert with her
fork. She decided to continue to smoke while she ate her pie. Jason continued
to stare.

    "Okay, you can leave now," Diane said with a smile. She was beginning to
toy with him. She also had her answer. Yes, there are still men out there that
love this shit despite Steve.

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