Cassie sighed unhappily. She couldn’t help but feel rotten, she’d known today was coming for a while now. It had merely become a question of when. Six years of relationship security down the tubes.
***
“Oh, c’mon Cassie,” Allyson Blake, her roommate said. “This is college! It’s your time to experiment and have fun… do things you couldn’t do at home! Your parents don’t ever have to know, and besides, I only smoke when I go out, y’know, a social thing. I’ll quit when I graduate.”
Cassandra Clarke hesitated; she’d never even thought about smoking in high school. All the ads showed the terrible things it did to you, and she’d always heard boys hated girls who smoked because they always smelled gross. Plus, her school always came down heavy on any kids who got caught smoking. This was college, though, eight hundred miles and three months away from Cassandra, the high schooler. Allyson, a sophomore, seemed to be living proof that boys didn’t run away from girls if they smoked, and she certainly didn’t look like she was dying. Cassie’s new motto was “Reinvent Yourself”, written on every page of her diary since graduation, and now was the time to start. Meekly, she asked Allyson to show her how. And that was how Cassie started smoking.
She’d met Jeff a couple of weeks later while smoking a Marlboro Ultra Light with Allyson at a campus party. In high school, she’d been a little too round and unspectacular-looking, with average high-school girl tits to attract the hunks. Plus, she didn’t put out. This was the new Cassandra—Cassie. She stepped in front of him and his group, cigarette effeminately held in her right hand, between a lady’s fingers. “Hi,” she smiled. “I’m Cassie.”
A few weeks later, Cassie was at a nearby mall, waiting near the smoking area for the shuttle back to school. A beautiful woman came outside, reached into her purse, and lit the longest cigarette Cassie had ever seen. Being a new smoker, Cassie hadn’t ever noticed what other people were smoking. Allyson smoked Marlboro Ultra Lights, so she did, too. But this impeccably dressed woman with her super-long cigarette made smoking seem… almost elegant. She didn’t look ashamed or guilty, the way Cassie felt whenever she smoked. Cassie googled “long cigarette” on the shuttle back to the dorms, discovering the longest cigarettes were 120mm, and found a website with a list. She decided she would go down the list and try each one. No harm in trying different cigarettes. It’s not like I smoke all the time.
The next time she went to a store that sold cigarettes, her heart beat a little faster when she asked for the first name on her list, “Virginia Slims Lights 120s.” Cassie felt oddly excited and daring when the clerk pulled the pack from the rack. It was so long compared to her usual kind! She quickly added a lighter before checking out because she wanted to try one, before anyone she knew saw her smoking one of the super-long cigarettes. After leaving, she went behind the store, hidden from view, pulled one from the pack, and lit it. It definitely didn’t taste like a Marlboro Ultra Light, although she liked it, and thought she was smoking for a longer time. Maybe that was why Allyson and everybody else smoked short cigarettes. It didn’t take as long.
When she got back to her room, she pulled out a Marlboro Ultra Light, and one of the Virginia Slims to compare them. She held each between her fingers; the 120 looked so very long! She cocked her wrist while studying the 120 and Cassie immediately felt… more sophisticated, like the woman at the mall. She did the same with the Marlboro Ultra Light… and for some reason, it didn’t have the same effect. The next night, she went out with Allyson and their group to the parties on Fraternity Circle, the Virginia Slims 120’s in her purse—along with the Marlboro Ultra Lights. Her courage deserted her when it came time for the girls to smoke their first cigarette, though, and she returned to her room with 19 Virginia Slims still in the pack.
Cassie didn’t have another chance to smoke until the following week’s parties. This time, she promised herself to smoke at least one of the Virginia Slims 120s during the night, if for no other reason than to compare the taste to the Marlboro Ultra Lights. When the girls gathered for their second cigarette of the night, Cassie pulled out the pack of Virginia Slims. She got a few giggles at the length, but resolutely said, “I wanted to try something different,” as she lit it. It wasn’t a surprise when everybody else finished their cigarettes before she did, but they didn’t abandon her to go inside any of the frat houses. By the end of the night, all the girls had tried at least a few puffs from one of Cassie’s “super-long-o” cigarettes. The Virginia Slim 120s just looked so much… cooler between her fingers. Cassie decided she would smoke them instead of the Marlboro Ultra Lights, even though Allyson gave her a fair amount of shit over her extra-long cigarettes.
After a while, Cassie tired of Allyson’s and the other girls’ calling her “Miss Fancy Cigarettes,” and bought a pack of the Virginia Slims Lights 100s. The extra length was less noticeable, and felt the same between her fingers, but she didn’t think they looked as cool and elegant as the 120s. Allyson tried to guilt her back into smoking Marlboro Ultra Lights by saying the 120’s were like smoking two cigarettes at once. Cassie countered by only smoking every other time Allyson had one, and told her roommate she was happy to share, but Allyson would have to smoke whatever Cassie had. She compromised by buying the ultra light 120s, so Allyson would at least stop complaining about that, and it eventually became a non-issue because Allyson bought her own more often. By the end of the semester, Cassie didn’t care if other girls giggled or made snide remarks about her 120s. Besides, Allyson still ran out often enough that she ended up smoking Cassie’s anyway, so she wasn’t the only girl around with extra-long cigarettes. Cassandra Clarke had indeed reinvented herself. She had her first real boyfriend and lover in Jeff, and was no longer the dumpy, fat teenager she’d envisioned herself as during her high school years. And of course, there were her Virginia Slims Ultra Lights 120s at parties and campus events.
Christmas holiday at home was smokeless, but Cassie tolerated it much better than she thought. After smoking all those 120s (she must have smoked at least 100 cigarettes at college,) she thought she’d feel desperate around her mostly non-smoking family and would have to sneak away for at least a puff or two. She wasn’t ready to admit she’d started smoking to her family, especially not her little sister. However, the only time Cassie really wanted one was when her cousins and Aunt Rachel went outside to smoke after Christmas dinner. She had an extra piece of pie instead, and the urge went away. She had her first cigarette in three weeks while she waited for her luggage. The urge to rush to get her bag right away vanished in the smoke of her long, ladylike cigarette.
Campus parties still were the only time Cassie smoked during her second semester. Nevertheless, she made an effort to go down her list and try all the 120s available where she bought her Virginia Slim Ultra Lights. The Mistys looked right, they cost less, but she decided she didn’t like the taste, and gave the almost full pack to Allyson. Her next experiment were the Capri 120s. The long, super-slim cigarette made her feel real girly as she smoked one behind the store, and they tasted almost as good as the Virginia Slims, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to smoke one in public. The strange looks and shit she got over the Virginia Slims convinced her she wasn’t ready to smoke something even more different. Somewhat regretful, Cassie left the pack on a chair next to the ash stand in the employee break area, figuring someone wouldn’t care enough about the skinny cigarettes to turn down a pack of free cigarettes minus one.
Cassie went almost a month without smoking over summer break. Even though she spent a lot of time around Aunt Rachel, who had gotten her a summer job, and her smoking cousins, she was fine until a family reunion at the beach. One night, Cassie walked past the smoking area on her way to their beach house. Aunt Rachel was there, with two of her daughters, and a few relatives Cassie didn’t know. Her aunt introduced her to the group, and one, Janet, removed a box of Virginia Slim Light 120s from her shoulder bag. Without thinking, Cassie asked for one, shocking her Aunt Rachel and her cousins, and she immediately begged them not to tell her parents. “I started in college, kind of a social thing,” she defensively explained. Aunt Rachel asked why she hadn’t asked her for one in all this time, and Cassie indicated her long cigarette. “These are the kind I smoke at school—and—well… I’m picky.”
“I’ve been smoking these since the day they came out,” Janet said. Cassie asked if she got as much shit as Cassie did. “Not really,” was the reply. “But I’d been smoking 120s since college, so it was just a different brand. There were a lot more brands of 120s back in the eighties, so it wasn’t as—different then. I only ever really got shit over smoking Mores—I was ‘the girl with the brown cigarettes’ for a while in college.” They finished smoking amid more small talk, and her cousins gave her mints to hide her cigarette. Janet offered to give her a cigarette whenever she wanted one—she liked that Cassie was picky—but fear of her smoking being discovered kept Cassie from taking her up on the offer.
Aunt Rachel bought her a pack of Virginia Slim Light 120s for work, so Cassie could smoke on her breaks, away from her parents and sister. Cassie allowed herself two per day, and returned to college for her sophomore year. The post-flight cigarette wasn’t as urgent, and she only had half of one because of a thunderstorm. She wondered if it was time to switch to shorter cigarettes, but the first off-campus party of the year found Cassie with her long Virginia Slim Light 120. She liked them better than the ultra lights, and since Allyson had moved out of the dorms, she didn’t have to share any more.
The next Christmas, Cassie decided it was time to reveal her secret. When Aunt Rachel and her cousins went outside, so did she. Her parents were shocked, but it went better than she thought. Her sister brought out the same antismoking arguments Cassie had taken to heart when she was that age, but Cassie pointed out she had a boyfriend, and was still very active. She didn’t go through a pack in a night like her friends with the 120s.
She went to her first off-campus bar on her twenty-first birthday with girlfriends. Allyson had graduated, and a confident Cassie had inherited the leader’s position among her girlfriends, choosing when it was time to go outside to smoke. She was also the source for everyone’s cigarettes. Her entire group were all “social” smokers, and no one else bought them, explaining they didn’t want to be tempted to smoke except when they were out drinking. For a change, Cassie wasn’t the only one smoking long cigarettes.
After graduation, both she and Jeff got local jobs, allowing them to stay together in the city where they’d gone to college. Moving in together was out of the question because neither family approved. Jeff moved into a modern apartment complex in a newly developed area, while Cassie, after careful consideration, moved into an older neighborhood with an eclectic mix of old and rehabbed buildings. She was going to choose one of the rehabs, but the landlord of the older building made her a much better offer; $100 cheaper rent, and fewer restrictions on what she could do in the apartment. That included pets, painting the walls… and smoking indoors was allowed. Cassie came home from her first day at work, sat down in her first apartment, and lit a cigarette. It was her first-ever leisurely, relaxed smoke, and the extra-long Virginia Slim 120 just seemed… a perfect fit. Finally, she understood what her cousin Janet meant.
Along with their new jobs came a new social circle: all young, educated professionals at the start of their careers. While several had been social smokers, all of them had quit upon graduation, including Jeff… except Cassie, whose occasional smoking grew increasingly solitary, and eventually confined to her apartment. Jeff started going to the gym, and Cassie joined him. They still enjoyed doing things together. She also thought of their Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday workouts as a good check and counter on her smoking. It was rare for Cassie to smoke more than five a day. Her only ritual cigarette was the relaxing, leisurely one when she reentered her apartment at the end of her day. The others, sometimes she would, sometimes she wouldn’t, and she was always careful to air out the apartment when Jeff was coming over. He had started complaining about the smell, so her Virginia Slim 120 would wait until after he left. Eventually, she started spending more time at his apartment; the entire complex was non-smoking—there wasn’t even an outside area designated for smokers. It wasn’t a big deal, but she occasionally found herself wanting one—especially after sex.
Jeff hired a personal trainer when he got a promotion, and started going to the gym more often. He offered to do the same for Cassie, but her job required extended hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she couldn’t join him. He offered to shift his non-workout day to Sunday so she could get an extra day in, but her Sundays were reserved for taking care of things like shopping and laundry, and they had a custom of Sunday dinner together, either out or at his place. Cassie successfully argued against changing their Sunday ritual because adding a ninety-minute workout at the gym would eliminate her one sleep-in day, or cut out their dinner.
Cassie watched her boyfriend become a workout junkie, spending less time with her, and more with his personal trainer. He’d started eating “more healthy,” and pressed her to do the same, exchanging alcoholic drinks for the new alcoholic seltzers and low-carb beers. His body changed into a much leaner, muscular version, and the previously non-competitive, non-athletic Jeff started running half-marathons. She would go along for support, and participated in a few of the long walks while he ran; she met new people, there was no competition, and she got exercise. Jeff was proud of her, too, because even though it took her a while to finish, she always finished. Cassie was happy with the new Jeff; he seemed happier with himself now, and more confident.
After awhile, however, he started pressing her to train with him; doing the 5K walks stopped being enough. He wanted her to run the half-marathons, while he excitedly planned to go for full marathons. Distance running was his passion now, and he wanted her to share it. Cassie had played fast-pitch softball in high school and college, and never been a fan of running for running’s sake. “Jeff, I’m not that competitive,” she complained. He responded she would only ever have to compete against herself, to improve her times, and that eventually, they’d be able to do marathons as a couple. She flatly said that it wasn’t her thing.
“Oh, that’s just your stupid cigarettes talking, Cassie,” replied Jeff. “Quit and you’d get your wind back. Then you could run with me.” That was the first argument they had over her infrequent smoking. Cassie liked her occasional Virginia Slim 120, and wasn’t ready to give them up. It wasn’t like she was a pack-a-day smoker, in fact, most days she smoked five or less. “I mean,” he continued, “my personal trainer could come up with a plan for you like he did with me… y’know, I’ve lost a few pounds, I’ve increased my muscle mass—”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” she coldly interrupted.
“Ummm—no,” he quickly reversed, “it’s just that y’know, instead of having margaritas, you could do the seltzer like me. It’s still alcohol.”
“What’s the point? I don’t drink alcohol because it’s alcohol, I do it because I like the taste of the alcohol I drink! You can do that fruit-infused water, but I like strawberry margaritas! Are you going to accuse me of being a drunk now?” she yelled. He’d quickly backtracked and dropped the co-marathon idea. Jeff became very attentive, and spent more time socially with Cassie and their circle of friends, and for a while, it was just like it used to be.
The company’s annual picnic and softball game changed that. It was the first time Cassie had been around several smokers she knew. Even though Cassie rarely took a cigarette break at work, the social situation just lent itself to having a couple with her co-workers. Jeff wrinkled his nose in disapproval, and even mock-coughed aloud, annoying her. As soon as they got in the car, Jeff immediately told her to open a window because the smell of smoke on her was nauseating. She apologized and complied. When they got back to her house, she invited him in, coyly saying she needed to shower after getting so hot and sweaty. Jeff said he wanted to get home; he had to get up early to get his morning run in, and backed away when she leaned to him for a kiss. “Cassie,” he softly began, “I’m sorry. I’m training for the River Run now, and I can’t be around a chain-smoker.” She’d smoked exactly four cigarettes during the picnic, and somehow, Cassie didn’t think that qualified as chain-smoking. “I’ll call you after the race and we can do something then, OK?”
***
Here she was now, without Jeff, and feeling… lonely. They’d grown apart, and smoking wasn’t the only issue between them. Still guilty about her infrequent habit, she changed to a different gym, maintaining her 3 days of exercise. Jeff had left their shared social circle, and being the only single there, and the only smoker made her feel like an outcast, so she eventually stopped going out with them.
Her apartment and work were almost the only places she settled. She canceled her gym membership because it started to be a meat market full of guys like Jeff, and girls like Jeff wanted her to be. She’d had a few first dates from there, but as soon as they found out she smoked, that was the end of that. Nonetheless, every day after work, Cassie would sit in her favorite chair, remove the pack of Virginia Slim Light 120s, extract one, and light it. Savoring the first full drag, drawing the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling through pursed lips with a lazy upward tilt of her chin, she would wait for the rush of nicotine to flood her senses. It was an exquisite, sinful pleasure, second only to the vibrator she’d been inspired to buy after seeing the gag gift Allyson got for her bachelorette party. It wasn’t Jeff, but it kept her from feeling like she needed to chase sex. She always felt sort of… elegant during her after-work cigarette, like the lady who had started Cassie on her “120 journey.”
Her last cigarette of the day, just before bedtime, occasionally felt different from the after-work one. Cassie felt seductive. One night, she watched herself smoke in the mirror, and began to practice, letting the smoke curl upward into her nose before inhaling. It was sexy enough that her free hand found its way south, and when she finished smoking, it was toy time. Three times. Nevertheless, Cassie was still lonely. The day when she would have to make the choice between her Virginia Slims and companionship seemed to loom closer.
That changed when she was transferred to another group within the company, in a different building. This group was more tightly knit than her old one, with more social interaction, including monthly happy hours, and they made Cassie feel welcome. While there were fewer smokers here, the non-smokers seemed much more tolerant. Both groups applauded her for her self-control when it came to smoking. Additionally, Cassie was no longer the only 120 smoker: Jennifer smoked Misty 120 menthols, and Louise smoked the super-skinny Capri 120s. While both were older and took smoking breaks more often than Cassie did, she could count on having at least one of them as company when she went out.
Cassie went to a party at Louise’s house, which had an enclosed, screened-in patio for smoking. Smokers and nonsmokers alike circulated there, and she found it refreshing to be able to socialize with her Virginia Slim Light 120 instead of being relegated to a dark corner by herself. “Cassie,” Louise said, “I want to introduce you to my nephew, Artie.”
“Are you trying to fix me up?” Cassie giggled, taking a playful, carefree drag on her cigarette.
Artie blushed furiously as Louise told him, “There’s your introduction. You’re on your own now,” loud enough for Cassie to hear.
So he thinks I’m cute. It came naturally to Cassie, the slight arch in the back, bent elbow, wrist cocked to hold the cigarette perpendicular to the floor. Using her Virginia Slim Light 120 as an accessory, she flirted with Artie. He’s kind of cute, too. He was a little tongue-tied with her, but quite attentive, even lighting her cigarettes. Cassie went home having exchanged contacts with Artie, very pleased with herself, and just a little drunk. She’d smoked a little more than usual, the six Virginia Slims 120s she’d taken to the party gone by eleven, and then she smoked three from the pack of Capri 120s Louise had given her. Before going to bed, Cassie smoked another of the superslims. No sense in letting perfectly good cigarettes go to waste. Halfway through, she stepped in front of her mirror. These are cute. Makes me feel… kind of sexy. In a departure from her normal bedtime ritual, she lit a second Capri 120 immediately after finishing the first, and practiced letting the smoke curl into her nose. The alcohol and nicotine buzz overrode Cassie’s self-control. She flopped into her bed, turned on her toy, and smoked the last half of the Capri on her way to a massive orgasm. Cassie slept better than she had since Jeff.
She went out with Artie the next Friday night. Like Jeff, Artie was a nonsmoker. However, when she went outside to smoke, he followed, lit her cigarette, and continued their conversation. Cassie sensed none of the disapproval or hostility that marked the final year of her relationship with Jeff. As the night passed, she turned up the flirtation heat, long-denied desires surging forward. The Virginia Slim Light 120 gaily and effeminately handled, long between her fingers, the smoke curling from her lips to her nose, practiced enough to be effortless, followed by the exhale through pursed lips. Her attentive date didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, it was almost as if Artie liked it when she smoked. By midnight, Cassie had decided Artie was now her target, not just a cute guy she’d go out with again. Over the course of the evening, “Maybe” had become “Eventually” and now it was, “Definitely tonight.”
Cassie kissed him aggressively in his car when they left the club, her body on fire. Suddenly, she stopped, remembering she hadn’t had any mints after her cigarette on the way to the car. Artie asked her what was wrong. “I’m sorry…” she apologized, turning her head away from his face, “I just forgot to take a mint… I know its kinda gross—”
Artie gently grasped her hand, and with the other, moved her chin so she was facing him again. “Cassie,” he breathed, “it’s okay.”
She moved wildly beneath him in her smoky bedroom, the almost-forgotten decadent pleasure of an after-sex cigarette still coursing through her senses, his energy and passion for her sending her into rapture far beyond any Cassie had experienced. She hurt the next morning, muscles long unused complaining of their duress. Artie woke up at the click of her lighter, as she set her ritual morning Virginia Slim Light 120 aflame. “Oh! I didn’t mean to wake you,” she blushed.
“It’s fine,” he replied, “no apology necessary.”
“You’re watching me smoke,” Cassie husked halfway through her morning smoke. A sudden panic surged. “Do you want me to put it out?”
“Ummm… no, Cassie,” he replied, blushing furiously.
“Well then, what?” she teased, feeling coquettish. Smoke curled into her nose, and with a flirtatious toss of her head, she exhaled quickly at the ceiling. Artie was… affected. And so was she.
“Ummm… I like to watch you smoke,” he confessed, turning redder. “There’s something—sexy—about it—the way you smoke.”
Cassie almost choked on her drag. That was a new one. “You’re shitting me.”
“I mean—I think—you’re gorgeous,” stammered Artie. He was so red, it couldn’t be a joke. “Even without the smoking… and my aunt says you’re sweet and nice…”
So it was a set-up. I’ll yell at Louise later. Cassie drew on her cigarette with as much seductive intent as she could muster. From Artie’s physical reaction, this definitely wasn’t a joke. On the one hand, she wasn’t sure how she felt about smoking being part of her allure. Was it all of her allure? Would Artie be so interested if she didn’t smoke at all? He’s really cute. Fuck it. I haven’t had sex this good in forever. Cassie pounced on him.
Monday, Cassie asked Louise to lunch. Just the two of them. “Did you hit it off with Artie?” Louise immediately asked, drawing a blush from Cassie. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I know he’s your nephew and all, but Artie said something weird. He said that he liked to… ummm… watch me smoke. So I’m not sure if he likes me, or if it’s just that I smoke,” confessed Cassie. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“First, Artie really does like you. He couldn’t stop talking about you after the party. He was so worried you’d turn him down for a date, and called me all excited when you said yes,” Louise smiled. She leaned forward. “As for the smoking… it’s a thing with some men.” Cassie clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. “My late husband, for example. I didn’t know until after we’d been married for three years. I found him surfing the internet, looking at videos and pictures. So… we made an agreement. He stopped looking at other smoking women on the internet, and I’d learn to smoke the way he liked.” A wry smile appeared on Louise’s face. “That’s when we started having more babies.
“My husband liked to watch me smoke long cigarettes through cigarette holders. That’s partly why I smoke Capri 120s, but I’ve smoked every 120 that was out there for him. Along with 164s.” Before Cassie could ask, Louise added, “they don’t make them any more.”
Cassie felt bad about exposing Artie’s secret to his aunt. “I hope I’m not weirding you out about Artie. I really do like him, and I’m sorry if—”
“I’m just sharing some general advice about men with one of my favorite young coworkers,” Louise idly smiled. “What you do with it is your business.”
Cassie smiled. “Cigarette holders you say?”
With a sly smile, Louise responded, “You might not easily find one that fits your Virginia Slims. I think I might have one or two in my collection…”
***
That Friday, Cassie went to have dinner with Louise at her house. Louise opened a jewelry box that contained multiple cigarette holders of all types, some silver and gold, grinning, “My husband really had a thing for women with holders.” She selected two, both plastic. One was about five inches long, black, with red streaks, the other, longer, all black, very sleek.
“Thanks for loaning these to me,” Cassie said, accepting them.
“Loan?” returned Louise. “I’m a Capri girl. I’ll never use them again. They’re yours.” Cassie squeaked happily and hugged her friend. “Now, Cassie,” she resumed, removing a beautiful purple-and-pearl holder also about five inches long, “let me show you how to use them to your best advantage. Let’s go to the patio.”
***
Cassie canceled her date with Artie on Saturday, telling him she was under the weather. His obvious disappointment almost made her reconsider, but she wanted this to be perfect. She didn’t know if Artie was the one, but he was cute and virile… and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted from him. She spent the following Saturday evening on Louise’s patio, practicing with her new accessories under her mentor’s tutelage. Sunday afternoon, she set her trap, calling Artie for a make-up date in six days.
Artie took Cassie to a nice restaurant. She only had one partially smoked cigarette during the walk from the car, and it took everything she had not to have her traditional after-dinner cigarette. She wanted to wait and hopefully make it worth both their whiles. Artie was puzzled by her teasing kiss in the car, but eagerly accepted her invitation for a nightcap. She left him alone in the living room, saying she wanted to change out of her nice clothes first. Ten minutes later, she called, “Artie, I’m having trouble with my zipper. Can you help?”
He walked into her bedroom—and froze, gaping at her. Dressed in a black negligée, Cassie stood, giving him a profile view of her elegant drag and arched-back exhale toward the ceiling, the long black holder held from beneath with a limp wrist as she’d been taught. Lips freshly glossed, eyes smoldering like the end of her Virginia Slim Light 120, she had his complete attention. She dragged again, french-inhaling (Louise had told her what it was called) with practiced ease. Her hushed exhale through ruby lips created a tremor deep inside at the sensation of her seductive appearance. “You like?” she whispered, knowing the answer from Artie’s glazed, enchanted stare.
He started for her, projecting intense lust and desire. Cassie showed him the palm of her free hand. “Let me—finish first.” He stopped dead in his tracks, and nodded slowly, speechless. Her own heat gained three notches, and Cassie knew that even if Artie wasn’t her forever guy, her Virginia Slim Light 120s would never be an obstacle to finding him. After carefully extinguishing her smoke, and setting the holder aside, she reclined onto her bed and lazily curled her index finger. “C’mere.”
And he obeyed in a flash.