The Fragile, Part 2

The Fragile
Part 2 of 2
an4@anon.lelnet.com

    Had he really been in a grocery store with this woman just moments ago ? 
And why-
    He didn't want to think about the why.
    He kissed her.
    The kiss was different than any he'd experienced before. Oh, he had 
certainly fantasised about being with a smoker plenty of times. It was hard 
to explain. Cigarette smoke itself was not something he really liked and 
sometimes when people smoked around him, it was annoying. But watching an 
attractive woman smoke was different- always had been, although he had no 
explanation for it.
    First, he was thoroughly enjoying everything about Pandora's smoking. The 
look, the smells, the excitement of watching her do something that seemed 
mildly devious. She was twenty-one but she had that ageless look women her 
age sometimes had, where she could be anywhere between 16 and 25. But it was 
the kiss that won him over.
    The taste of it was alive on her tongue and in her mouth. It wasn't just 
the taste of the cigarette she was smoking either, but the sweet texture of 
many cigarettes she had smoked that day. The kiss was long and deep and as 
soon as they broke it off, she drew on her cigarette, inhaling the smoke 
deeply and pushing it back out her nose slowly and luxuriously.
    He wanted her and it showed in his eyes.
    "It turns you on, doesn't it ?"
    "That obvious ?"
    "Hey, it's cool," she said, stroking his jaw with her free hand. "I like 
that look on your face. You've never been with a smoker before, have you ?"
    "I've always wanted to be."
    Her smile was electric. "I think you've been living around here about 
four years, right ?"
    `Yeah. I took a job editing for a local publishing company- mostly 
scholarly stuff, biographies, literature reviews, that sort of thing. I've 
probably seen you about an hundred times- sitting out on the porch, smoking 
and talking on the phone."
    "I was probably just starting when you moved here. I was seventeen when I 
finally got the courage to admit to my mom that I was really intrigued by her 
smoking and wanted to give it a try. She was mildly upset, but I think the 
fact that I had come to her made a big difference. She let me try her Benson 
and Hedges- not really for me, but I knew it was just a matter of brands. 
Pretty soon I was smoking about a pack a day. It's great when your parents 
don't hassle you- I went to high school with kids who had to sneak around. I 
would have hated that. But I love smoking outside. And don't think I hadn't 
noticed you watching before."
    Buffy was long forgotten.
    "Can I ask you an important question ?"
    She took Quinn's hand in hers and he saw that already knew exactly what 
he was thinking.
    "I don't know, to be honest. I dated this one kid my senior year of high 
school and most of my freshman year at Southern, but he wasn't into college, 
or literature, or anything. Since then, there just hasn't been anybody- and 
what about you- you must be twenty-five, you drive a nice car, own your own 
home, and yet you let me pick you up in the grocery store. What's with that ?"
    Quinn had a tangential thought about dating, and maybe the answer as 
well. How did anyone survive these first few moments when you had to answer 
the hard questions like why is anyone worth dating not dating already ? It 
was the minefield everyone had to crawl through to get to the place they 
wanted to be, and their was no joy in waiting for the explosion.
    "Maybe you hit on it when you said that I've never been with a smoker 
before. How do you last with someone who doesn't do that special thing that 
turns you on, you know ?"
    "Do you like Victorian literature ?" Pandora asked.
    "Of course."
    She smiled, drew on her cigarette, exhaled for him. "How's your Greek 
mythology ?"
    "Huh ?"
    "Well, I'm your first smoking woman, and I'm hoping that you're going to 
be curious about my box."
    "Are you hoping that I'm going to be your Epimetheus ?" he asked, only 
mostly joking.
    Her smile won him totally. She drew on the cigarette again, exhaled a 
long stream of creamy airy smoke, and laughed.
    "It's a little early for that. Let's just say hope's not the only thing 
down there."
    He soon found out how right she was.

    They were lying in bed. He rolled over and saw on the clock that it was 
four in the morning. She was sitting up in bed, smoking the first cigarette 
of the day with an etheral beauty which made him glad he'd decided to stay 
over. His groin, tender from an old running injury, was sore from the sex, 
but it had been worth it. Still, it would have been jarring, waking up in a 
strange bed, if not for the view that greeted him.
    She drew again on the cigarette, looked down at him, and smiled.
    "Good morning, sleepyhead."
    "It's four. I never get up before five-thirty."
    "Well, you don't wake up at four dying for a cigarette, either. I did."
    "I wasn't objecting."
    He realised that he was getting hard watching her. There had been 
considerably more than hope down there. The f word.
    Not fucking. Fufillment.
    But he did want to fuck her.
    "Do you know what ?" she asked, reaching down and feeling until she found 
him, stiff and throbbing under those smoky sheets. She wrapped her hand 
around it and squeezed.
    He gasped with pleasure.
    "What, Pandora ?"
    "I've never made love while I was smoking. Isn't that odd ?"
    He supposed that it was.
    "I've never made love to a woman in her parent's house," he replied with 
a sly smile. Even though she was well of age, even though they were a 
thousand miles away, it still felt devilish.
    All the better.
    "Before," she said. "Never before. You have now. But I don't just want 
you to make love to me, Quinn. I want you to fuck me."
    He understood the difference, and any question aboiut whether or not he 
could go again was answered by her use of the word. It was that good girl 
thing again. They had talked about it, talked about it while he'd slowly and 
carefully made love to her, asking when he wasn't sure it felt right to both 
of them. She understood it and was playing off it, but at the same time-
    It was what she wanted.
    "Fuck me, Quinn. Really fuck me."
    She pulled on the still long cigarette, pulled until he thought her eyes 
would decompress, and he didn't merely enter her. He plunged in full bore and 
he began a rythmic, dangerous, violent thrusting, not caring how it felt for 
her but just how strong it felt to him. She continued smoking while he 
smashed against her, waves breaking on her rocks, pounding, unfeeling, 
insensitive to anything but the climax. His breath came in ragged short stops 
and fits and just as he was about to come she took one last draw on the 
cigarette and bit him on the shoulder, not as sport but rather as necessity 
to stifle the scream that was sure to be tore from her frame.
    Blood tingled on her tongue as he spent himself, and he didn't care about 
the fact that she'd lied about biting on the first date. He sank against her, 
but kept thrusting, his orgasm over but still with the strength to deliver 
hers and it came as quickly and as transcendent of emotions as his had been.
    When they were finally done, sore and swollen and fufilled, she lit 
another cigarette, the smile on her face like that of a demon having 
corrupted the Virgin.
    "So what are you doing for Thanksgiving ?"
    He smiled back.
    "Sinking deeper into this abyss, I hope."
    They little understood how right he was.
    

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