Taste the Consequences, Part 6

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 remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person
reproducing or using it.

TASTING THE CONSEQUENCES

6.	The Taste of Necessity.

   Jodi got home at ten that evening.  She knew her dad was planning to visit
her mom, and that he intended to sweet talk her into reconciliation.  The
anxious teen didn't want to distract them from whatever happened, but she
also didn't want to be there if her mom exploded.  She feared Amanda might.
Her mom had been very bitter about her dad's past conduct.  Jodi didn't blame
her.  She only hoped her dad was sincere when he said he wanted to mend
fences with her.

   Arriving home she cautiously opened the front door and listened.  She
heard quiet talking coming from the office where the computer was.

   Approaching the doorway she peeked in.  Her dad was at the keyboard typing
feverishly.  Her mom stood behind him, smiling.  A Marlboro 100 burned in the
ashtray.  It was her dad's.  But her mom also had a cork-tipped cigarette
between her fingers.  From the number of butts in the ashtray they'd
obviously both been smoking like chimneys for awhile.

   None of that was a surprise to Jodi.  The surprise was that Amanda's
blouse was untucked and partly unbuttoned.  Her dad's shirt was also rumpled
and untucked.

   "Hi, honey," Amanda grinned.  "You knew Joe was coming over, didn't you?
God, you should've told me.  I bet you didn't really have homework to do with
Kate.  You wanted to clear out so he could plead his case in private."

   "Yeah, and I see it worked," Jodi grinned.  "Dad's helping you with the
outline."  She laughed.  "And with smoking, I see."

   "Yeah, but I didn't need any help smoking," she grinned back.  She put the
cigarette in her lips and drew on it for over five seconds.  "I'm enjoying
trying out your dad's brand," she offered, holding her inhale inside.  "His
Marlboro 100's are pretty damn good!"

   Joe chimed in.  "Jodi, your mom's turning into quite the smoker.  I'm
trying to talk her into not quitting with you.  How would you feel about
that?"

   Jodi couldn't believe her good fortune.  But she restrained herself.  She
didn't want to ruin everything by reacting too enthusiastically.  "Oh
really?"  She wanted to see her mom's reaction.  "Is that true, Mom?"

   Amanda didn't want to commit herself, either.  She hadn't had time to
think it through.  She didn't want to scare Jodi by seeming too enthusiastic
if her daughter didn't like the idea.  So she was purposely evasive.  "Your
dad did his best to work on me.  He tried to convince me I shouldn't quit
with you.  I guess I'm thinking about it.  That's about all I can say right
now."

   Jodi nodded slowly.  She didn't know how to react.  So she equivocated,
too.  "Well, let me know what you decide, Mom.  Obviously your decision will
have a huge impact on me."

   Joe interjected to change subjects.  "The good thing is the manuscript
outline is going great.  Amanda and I've been working on it awhile."  He
looked up and grinned.  "Don't you think it's coming along pretty well now?"

   "Your dad's been a huge help, Jodi.  His offer to kick around some new
ideas finally broke through the barriers I've struggled with the last few
days."  She gently rested her hand on Joe's shoulder.  "It's been
surprisingly pleasant to work with him again."

   The teenager leered at her parents.  "Hmm.  It looks like the manuscript
isn't the only thing you worked on together tonight.  Am I right?"

   Amanda gave her daughter a severe look.  "Jodi!  It's none of your goddamn
business!"

   "It sure is my goddamn business," she shot back, but with a big grin.  "If
you and Dad are sleeping together I think I have a right to know."

   "Jodi, you're right.  Your mom and I slept together.  We fucked tonight,"
Joe answered blandly.  "But Amanda made it very clear that the fact we did
doesn't mean anything.  I still have a long way to go to earn back her
trust."  He sweetly looked up at his wife, who was hitting on her cigarette
behind him.  "Fair statement?"

   The pretty blond expelled smoke from her nostrils.  "Yeah, fair statement.
You described it to Jodi more graphically than I would have.  But yeah, we
fucked, though we're still a long ways from making love."  She smiled.
"Maybe it'll happen eventually.  Like he said, Jodi, we need to see what
happens.  You don't fix what happened between us with one evening of bliss."

   "Yeah, but at least it was bliss and not screaming," Jodi noted happily.
"God, I'm glad to see you get along civilly.  And I'm really glad the
outline's coming along better."

   "We're gonna get it finished tonight," Joe said, still typing furiously.
"I can stay till it's done, Amanda, if that's okay."

   She manicured her cigarette in the ashtray and grinned.  "This is more
progress than I ever made working by myself.  So I'll stay up all night if
necessary, Joe."

   "It won't take _that_ long," he laughed, pausing for a drag.  "Okay,
Amanda, now look at this paragraph here.  You think this might go better
there, ??"

   Jodi left them working on the outline.  She didn't need to be there and
didn't want to be.  God, this was better than she imagined.  Not only had her
dad started to smoke, but her mom was considering not quitting.  Best of all,
they were working and laughing together.  What the hell was there for her not
to be happy about?

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

   Amanda was fast asleep.  She heard a noise coming from somewhere far away.

   "Mom, Mom, get up.  God, it's late!"

   She opened her eyes and blinked.  "What?  What time is it?"

   Her daughter stood over her.  "God, Mom, it's almost eight.  I let you
sleep as long as I could.  I'm leaving for school.  Don't you have stuff you
have to do today?"

   "Yeah," Amanda groaned, blinking vigorously, vainly trying to get herself
fully awake.  "God, yeah, I do."

   Jodi slowly came into focus by her bedside.  "Mom, if you don't hurry
you'll be late.  Come on, get your ass out of bed."

   Amanda tried to get up.  She felt so goddamn tired!  "God, I feel like
shit.  I was up till two working on that goddamned outline with your dad.
What time is it anyway?"

   "Nearly eight," Jodi repeated.  "You better get moving!"

   Amanda nodded and swung her legs out of bed.  Her mouth was dry and her
throat parched.  She felt awful.  But then she smelled something.  God, it
smelled delicious!  She looked.  Her daughter had a lit cigarette by her
side.

   She stared blankly.  Jodi was fully dressed and had her backpack on.
Clearly she was about to go out the door, but nonetheless she was smoking.
"You look like you're about to go," she said groggily.  "So what's up with
the smoking?"

   The teenager grinned sheepishly.  "Simple, Mom.  I wanted to load up as
much nicotine as I could before I have to get on my goddamn bus."  She saw
Amanda staring covetously at her cigarette.  She smiled.  "You want a drag?"

   Amanda hesitated.  Normally she would've felt sharing a cigarette was
gross.  But she felt an unexpected, overpowering urgent need to take a drag
as soon as possible.  "Yeah," she slowly nodded, full of eager anticipation.
"God, yeah, I really would.  I think a drag is just what I need right now.
Thanks, honey."

   Without comment Jodi gave her mom her cigarette.  Still very groggy,
Amanda hungrily took it in her fingers and brought the burning cylinder to
her mouth.  She took a real long hard drag.  God, it felt good and tasted
divine!  She sucked the welcome smoke in and promptly hit on it a second
time, inhaling even deeper.  It felt like a transfusion of essential life
support.

   "Oh God," she groaned, still dazed as she reluctantly gave it back.
"Thanks, honey.  Damn, that tasted good!"  Smoke grudgingly dribbled from her
lips.  "Shit, you'd think I smoked enough last night so that I wouldn't need
this first thing."  The smoke was flowing out now.  "But God, I think I
really need a cigarette of my own before I can get myself going."

   Jodi opened her backpack to get her pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  "Here,
have one of mine."  Amanda gratefully accepted it and put it in her mouth.
She waited impatiently for her daughter to get her lighter.  Jodi was both
amused and delighted by this development.  "God, Mom, you look like shit.
But that'll change as soon as you get yourself some yummy nicotine."

   Amanda knew Jodi was right.  She didn't merely want the cigarette.  She
fuckin' needed it, and the nicotine it provided!  When her daughter's lighter
was ready Amanda leaned toward her.  She zealously caught the light and
immediately dragged, much longer and harder this time.  It quickly expanded
into a double-pump.

   "God, where'd you learn to do that?" Jodi asked.  "The double-pump, I
mean?"

   "I dunno," Amanda sleepily replied, smoke spewing from her lips after her
frenzied hits.  She dragged again.  "I just did it.  I guess it just felt
like I needed to do it that way.  Shit, I'm becoming such a goddamned
addict!"

   "Yeah, you sure are.  I can tell," her daughter beamed.  "Look, Mom, I
gotta go.  You'll feel better once you smoke a little more."  She leaned over
and playfully gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.  "Be good today, Mom.  And
don't smoke too much," she added with a sly wink.

   "Oh, I will," she groaned as Jodi ran downstairs to catch her bus.

   Sitting up in bed, Amanda dragged on her cigarette.  It tasted different
somehow.  God, it was one of Jodi's lights!  That was why.  Somehow it just
didn't seem quite good enough.

   "These dame things don't have nearly the nicotine my Benson & Hedges do,"
she grumbled angrily, stumbling out of bed.  "And right now I need more
nicotine.  God, I gotta get one of my Benson & Hedges.  I need to smoke a
real cigarette!"

   Still puffing furiously on her daughter's Marlboro Light 100, Amanda
staggered down the stairs and into the office.  There she retrieved her gold
pack of Benson & Hedges 100's and quickly liberated one.  With no delay she
lit it up from the cherry of the one Jodi gave her.  A powerful surge of
nicotine entered her body from her full flavored cigarette.  She sighed
gratefully.  "Yeah, that's better," she groaned, hitting on it a second time,
and then a third.

   She now had two cigarettes burning, one in each hand.  No one could see,
so she guiltily smoked them both at once, chasing each hit on the weaker
Marlboro Light 100 with a long sumptuous drag on her more flavorful B&H.
Slowly she began to feel better.

   She groaned.  "Damn, I can't believe I'm smoking two at once.  That's
crazy, twisted.  God, I've turned into such a fucked up addict.  The worst
part is I don't even give a shit right now.  I just want smoke and nicotine;
more and more of it, as much as I can get."

   She almost crushed out the Marlboro Light 100 in the ashtray.  But somehow
she couldn't bring herself to.  Truth was, she didn't want to waste any of
its precious smoke, weak though it was.  Instead she furiously smoked both
cigarettes in tandem till they burned down to the filters.  At that point she
at last put them out.  But she promptly lit up a fresh B&H for herself.  She
began to smoke that one a bit less frantically.

   As she sat there she realized she'd been up less than 15 minutes and was
smoking her third cigarette of the day.  "God, I'm _so_ out of control," she
whimpered helplessly.  But she dragged on her B&H and a wry smile crept over
her face.  "I like it, though.  Hell, I like being a smoker, even one who's
totally hopeless, who's thoroughly out of control.  I love being a smoker.
It's insane, but I do!"

   She watched wisps of smoke drift out of her open mouth.  In and out, in
and out, over and over.  Smoke goes in and eventually smoke comes back out;
then repeat.  It was crazy how that simple repetitive exercise provided her
with so much pleasure.  She thought of what Joe said.  She didn't have to
quit if she didn't want to.  Jodi wouldn't care.  Hell, she'd be ecstatic.
She hit on her B&H and thought about it.  What _did_ she want?  Did she want
to keep doing this, lighting up cigarette after cigarette and frantically
smoking them at least twenty times a day every day the rest of her life?  She
opened her lips to release a series of short, smoky blasts, one after
another, in recurring bursts.  She grinned.  It sounded both terrible and
glorious.

   Well, she didn't need to decide yet.  She'd wait and see how she felt
Sunday night.  Till then she resolved not to discuss it with Jodi.  She
needed a better idea of what she truly desired.  Did she want to be a smoker,
a lifelong nicotine addict, who couldn't survive without constantly feeding
herself nicotine?  As she hit on her cigarette, she knew at that moment the
answer was a clear, unequivocal "yes."  But it was more complicated.  It
didn't only depend on the pleasure she felt.  Did it?

   She had errands to run and a book signing to attend over lunch hour.  She
didn't have time to endlessly reflect on her newfound outlook on smoking.
The local Junior League had scheduled her as its guest speaker for their
monthly lunch meeting.  She'd sign copies of her book beforehand and give a
brief talk on 'Tasting the Consequences' as the speaker.  She didn't enjoy
doing it, but it did sell books, and that was good.

   She smoked one last cigarette before she put on her sweats and headed off
to the grocery and pharmacy.  Errands were a necessary evil.  She put them
off working on the manuscript outline.  With that finished, thanks to Joe,
she had to once more fill the damn refrigerator.

   Amanda was gone only an hour, and she didn't smoke while running her
errands.  By the time she got home she felt noticeably jittery, strangely
edgy.  It didn't surprise her.  She knew why.  So entering her kitchen she
immediately shook out a Benson & Hedges 100 from her pack and sat down to
smoke a cigarette before putting away the groceries.  As she did earlier, she
double-pumped the cigarette after lighting up.  God, the thick smoke tasted
magnificent!  Blessed nicotine at last was being replenished in her starving
system.  Smoking again she felt the onset of what she could only describe as
pure bliss.  She let out a loud contented sigh.  "God, I just love smoking
like this," she moaned happily, simultaneously exhaling through her mouth and
nostrils.  Repeatedly she raised the cigarette to her lips; over and over
hitting on it and pulling smoke into her lungs.  Her feelings of stress
quickly subsided.  The repeated nicotine infusions saw to that.

   The message light was blinking on her answering machine.  She clicked it.
The first one was from her publisher.

   "Hi, Amanda.  Hey, I got the manuscript outline you emailed late last
night.  Darling, it looks fabulous.  God, it's _so_ much better.  We're
finally on the right track.  It's practically perfect, exactly what we're
looking for in a sequel.  Good work, honey.  Call me so we can schedule
another meeting.  In the meantime, start writing.  I think we'll get this
outline approved with no problem."

   She grinned and knocked an ash into her ashtray before raising her B&H to
her lips for an especially satisfying drag.  God, that was a relief!  Then
the second message played.

   "Amanda, it's Fred Coleman.  Listen, I really need to talk to you.  It's
important.  Give me a call at my office as soon as you get this.  You know
the number.  I know you're working at home so call me.  We need to talk.
Thanks."

   She scowled.  Damn Fred Coleman!  He constantly asked for free advice and
she nearly always gave it.  He admitted as much the other night at the United
Way fundraiser.  It wasn't the first time he got her to give free counseling
about family and personal stuff.  Not even close.  More like the 20th!  She
groaned.  She didn't want to talk to him.  She erased the message.

   She finished her cigarette after Fred's message ended.  She crushed out it
and put away the groceries.  With that done she went upstairs to shower and
get ready for her luncheon.  While she stood wrapped in a towel in front of
her bathroom mirror with her hair dripping wet, she had to laugh.  "We're ba-
ack," her cravings were quietly crying out.  "We want some smoke!"

   "Listen, you guys," she said out loud, as if her nicotine cravings were
real separate people.  "I do, too.  I admit it.  I want some smoke myself.
So what do you say I make all of us happy and light up a cigarette right now?
Does that sound good?"

   It sounded like a great idea.  So she found her gold Benson & Hedges 100's
and got one out.  Still dripping from her shower, she didn't feel like
waiting till she was completely dry to smoke.  So she fired up the cigarette
still wrapped in her towel.  She turned and saw her image reflected in the
full-length mirror.  A long lit cigarette dangled from her lips, and smoke
surged from her nostrils.  She grinned.

   "God, Amanda, you sure as hell look like a smoker," she said, talking to
the girl in the mirror.  As she spoke her cigarette bobbed up and down.  She
did a hands-free drag and inhaled through the corner of her mouth.  The
cigarette stayed between her lips, firmly under her control.  She picked up
her eyeliner and began applying it while leaving the cigarette in her mouth.
"My God, Amanda, you can't even wait to smoke till you finish putting on
makeup," she chastised the girl in the mirror with a laugh, her brush in
hand.  "You're terrible."

   She breathed normally as she applied her eyeliner.  She liked how it felt
having the cigarette balanced between her lips while she worked with her
hands.  She took another hands-free drag and kept going.  An ash fell
harmlessly in the sink below.  She laughed at the sight.  "Girl, you just
fuckin' _love_ to smoke," she muttered at her smoking reflection.  "I'm not
sure you'll ever be able to quit smoking even if you think you might want
to."

   The sudden sound of the phone ringing startled her.  Since she was busy
she waited for it to default to the answering machine.  As she put on her
makeup she heard Fred Coleman's voice.

   "Amanda, I hope you're not out.  I really need to talk.  I can't explain
why on your machine.  Please, call me.  Okay?  Thanks.  Bye."

   "Stupid bastard," she mumbled.  She finished applying her makeup and
finally took the cigarette from her lips.  It was nearly down to the filter.
She took a drag and carefully balanced it on the edge of the countertop while
she dried her hair.  She sighed.  Maybe Fred was calling about the 'tasting
the consequences' game going on at their house.  Well, whatever.  He had to
wait.  Looking around in vain for an ashtray, after a last drag she dropped
the butt in the toilet.  Exhaling smoke, she turned on the hair dryer to
finish getting ready.

   Minutes later, fully dressed, she remembered Jodi's comment about loading
up on nicotine before heading to school.  She decided she should do that
before going to her luncheon.  It'd be hours till she could smoke again.  So
she sat down in front of her computer to check her email messages while she
smoked two cigarettes back to back.

   One email was from her publisher, merely confirming receipt of the
manuscript outline.  But another was from Joe.  She grinned as she read it.

   "Amanda.  Thanks for last night.  It was fabulous.  I want to prove I'm
worthy of your continued trust.  Never again will I make the mistake I did
with that bitch Jaime.  Let's have dinner, honey, so I can keep convincing
you of my good intentions.  Love, Joe.  P.S.  I hope it's still okay to call
you 'honey!'  P.P.S.  I loved smoking with you.  Don't quit without talking
to me first!"

   Well, he sure was persistent!  She got a kick out of his last remark.
"'Honey, don't quit smoking without talking to me,'" she repeated scornfully.
"Yeah, right, like I'll decide what I'm gonna do about this whole business
based on what _you_ think!"  But hitting on her cigarette she realized his
words did resonate.  She liked smoking with Joe, just like she always enjoyed
smoking with Jodi.  It was somehow sociable, so pleasant to share cigarettes
with somebody else.

   Interrupting her musings, she looked at her watch.  Hell, time to go!  She
picked up the tempo and smoked feverishly to finish the cigarette.  Putting
it out early seemed unthinkable.  So she didn't.  She finished it as fast as
she could and then squirted perfume on her clothes and hair to mask the odor.
"There," she proclaimed happily.  "I'm good to go.  Time to stop being Amanda
Eagle the helpless smoker for awhile and turn into Amanda Eagle the
celebrated author and noted family and personal counselor!"

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