Marie checked her watch as she got into the Beamer. It was still too early to go back to Colin’s place, because he’d probably still be awake. Telling George that she wasn’t going to perform for him any more had been traumatic, and doing it gently had been difficult enough that she didn’t want to try it a second time tonight. She pulled up to another hotel after looking into the bar from the car, and deciding that it was empty enough to be a good place to chill for a while. Marie sat down in the bar; where the one at George’s hotel had a distinctly modern feel, this one was more old-fashioned, more of an old businessman’s bar. Oak was the predominant material, lending a bright, warm, stately feel to the place. The bar staff was congregated at one end, watching something on TV that was inaudible to Marie, and the few patrons were widely scattered. A female bartender approached her as she removed the pack of Mores that George had given her.
“What’ll it be, dear?”
“Something I can sip for a good little while, something I can sit and think over,” Marie replied. “It doesn’t have to be strong, either. I still have to drive home.”
The bartender nodded and deposited an ashtray in front of Marie. “Got just the thing.” She returned a couple of minutes later with something brown in a very large martini glass. “It’s called a ‘men suck,’” she grinned. “I recognized the look. Been there, done that. It’s basically a chocolate martini, except that it’s heavy on the chocolate, light on the martini. Guaranteed to send you into diabetic shock long before you get drunk, because the last thing you need is some guy hitting on you because you’re drunk. Good enough?” Marie nodded, accepting the drink and a light from the bartender. “We’re supposed to be open ‘til three, but it’s probably not going to get any busier than this, so we may close earlier. You’re fine just to sit here and think, and I’ll make sure you’re not bothered,” she smiled.
“Marie,” Marie said, holding out her hand. “You’re right. This is a ‘men suck’ night.”
“Georgia,” the bartender returned. “Thought so,” she said, before returning to her post near the TV, discreetly leaving Marie with her thoughts.
Marie took a long, deep drag on the More, exhaling long and steady, chin raised, without any embellishment, enjoying the knowledge that nobody was watching her. A sip of the martini confirmed what Georgia (funny that I should run into a bartender with that name tonight) had said. It was good, but there was no way she’d be able to drink enough of it to get drunk. She regarded the brown cigarette between her fingers. George had been right. A lot of this was her own fault. She’d never given him any indication that there was anything other than a business relationship between them, with no feelings involved, so he didn’t think that she had any feelings to hurt. Marie had been very surprised to find out that her feelings had indeed been hurt.
If there were any hurt feelings, it was usually on the other person’s part, because smoking sensuously had almost always been all about business for her. This breakup was going to devastate Colin. But she didn’t think that he was the stalking type. They moved in different social circles, and he was still too uncomfortable in her environment to frequent the places she’d be likely to go. And seeing her on a date with Sharaya would probably be more than he—Marie shuddered involuntarily. He was a lot like Danny. She took a final, nervous drag on the More before stabbing it into the ashtray several times, and took a long drink from her martini, fighting hard against the tears.
She still felt responsible, regardless of the fact that Danny had probably been mentally ill. After ten years, it was evident that she would never be able to shrug off being named in his suicide note, contrary to what she had believed when it had happened. She nervously lit another cigarette as what was supposed to be a comforting contrast between Colin and Danny ran through her head. Unfortunately, the contrast wasn’t stark enough to for her to avoid being pulled into a depressing vortex of swirling memories.
Danny. Even after ten years, she couldn’t bring herself to think of his last name. He had been one of those brilliant software guys in Seattle, young, inordinately rich, very good-looking, although the extreme nature of his smoking fetish made him a social misfit. Marie’s memories flowed, unbidden. Boy, was I young, dumb, and full of cum.
The bartender was wondering aloud why someone who was supposed to be banned was in the bar. Being nosy, she’d turned to see who he was talking about. There was a good-looking guy sitting down at the bar, so Marie figured that he must have been a real bad boy. Wouldn’t that just frost Richard’s buns. She immediately approached him, and got there before the bouncers did, introducing herself. He looked at her with a sad smile and then at the bouncers, but since she was there, the bouncers backed off, not wanting to cause a scene. He thanked her, and offered to buy her a drink. She accepted, and pulled out her pack of Marlboros, looking for her lighter. The first question he ever asked her was if she’d ever smoked a Nat Sherman.
“No. I don’t do drugs,” she had truthfully declared and he’d patiently, intently, explained that they were very high-class cigarettes from New York that were made from high quality tobacco and paper, with no additives. He also said some of them came in colors. He pulled a box out of his pocket and asked her to try one. It looked normal enough and hey, she only had a couple of ’boros left. Looking back, she couldn’t believe how stupid that was. Just because they were in a box didn’t mean that they were what he said they were. They could have been drugged, because he didn’t smoke.
Amazing how I didn’t find that odd. Colin doesn’t smoke, either, but he doesn’t carry cigarettes to hand out.
She didn’t have to do much plotting to get what she wanted; it hatched itself. They spent that first night fucking, Danny swearing his love to her after his first orgasm while she smoked a pink Fantasia. She’d barely gotten through a quarter of it before he was hard and ready to rock again. The next night, they went out, Marie hamming it up while smoking the six-and-a-half inch long Fantasias. She’d had to jack him off twice in the car during the night, and he still had more for her when they got home. She moved in with him at the end of the week, not even bothering to tell Richard.
Marie played Danny’s game, ditching the Marlboros for the cigarette holders and the 164mm cigarettes that really got him going. She also removed her body jewelry to appear more “normal” for his social situations. In return, he gave her all the mad money she’d ever wanted, a nice little car, an endless supply of Nat Sherman’s, and more sex than she’d ever dreamed of. However, at nineteen, she was not ready to settle down, and his constant attention began to annoy her after a few months. Danny made her get her GED and insisted that she take community college courses while he was at work, when all she wanted to do was to recover from the previous night’s parties. He was beginning to cramp her style, so Marie had decided to see how much he’d put up with—she put her body jewelry back on, and got a couple more tats. He wasn’t happy, but he was willing to put up with it, his interest in her smoking seemingly overriding any other consideration. He would buy smoking videos and make her watch, telling her what he liked to see and what he didn’t. The stuff he’d give her when she smoked the way he wanted was just too good to give up, so she smoked the way he liked. She started going out to goth clubs whenever she felt pressured, but he’d stay home, and let her be the wild goth girl without raising a stink.
The whole thing got very old after a year. He’d been politely accepting of all of her quirks, no matter how hard she tried to make him angry with and kick her out, but he wouldn’t, even when she started staying out all night and screwing around on him. One night she got real drunk, hooked up with another goth girl, and brought her to his place while he was there. Surprisingly, that squicked him, and they fought—she wound up moving in with her goth girlfriend the next day, taking all the Nat Sherman’s in the apartment, all the stuff he’d bought for her, and the little bit of money she’d squirreled away in her own account with her. She thought it was over; she hung out at goth clubs, dancing to alternative music and he didn’t. However, a month later, Marie wound up going to a rave with some friends and ran into him. That night she was smoking the last of the Fantasias she’d taken with her. Danny apologized for blowing up over her now-confirmed bisexuality, that it was a part of her he accepted. He begged her to marry him; he wanted to take her away from “all this craziness” and give her “a good life.”
At twenty, Marie was now sowing lots of wild oats, so a committed relationship was definitely not for her. She cruelly toyed with him that night, giving him a hand job in the middle of the rave and every sign that she was ready to move back in. Satisfied that he was following her like a puppy, she found one of her girlfriends, and had a hot make-out session in front of him, telling him that sorry, the handjob was the best he was going to get from her any more, because she’d decided that she was into women now. They found his body in his apartment a week later. She wouldn’t have read more than what was in the paper, but found out about the note from a friend’s sister, who had been dating one of the cops on the scene. It said that he had been to heaven with her, and there was nothing left on Earth for him without her.
She assuaged her guilt in a string of meaningless relationships, even going back to Richard for about a month, but his insistence on the Marlboro Reds bugged her—she was used to extra-long cigarettes now, and finally broke it off by telling him that she only smoked Virginia Slims 120’s now. He immediately told her that she was on her own and took back the keys to the apartment he’d let her have. She tried to use her now-honed smoking skills on Johnny’s fetish buddies, but none of them were well off enough to do much more than provide her with a little amusement and a little cash on occasion. Marie got a job waitressing full time and shared a room with a couple of other goths, but there was no other Danny around to give her the attention and the things she craved. She couldn’t find anybody to support her, no matter how hot she could look while smoking.
She left Seattle a year later, working her way south one menial job at a time until she crossed the border into California. Since smoking was so taboo there, she began to encounter fetishers willing to spend money for a night or two to watch her smoke, often with nothing more sexual than a handjob involved. Marie more or less lived on the sexual hunger of smoking fetishers who could afford her for a night or two. Still, it wasn’t a real good living, and after two months of it, she picked Sacramento as a place to settle down.
She hit the jackpot there. Mark, a well-to-do widower, noticed her and her Virginia Slims 120’s at the bar where she was a cocktail waitress. He was a regular customer, but kept a respectful distance, with the usual harmless flirting. One night, she was working with a new hire, a cute little blonde who smoked Capri 120 menthols, and noticed the difference in Mark’s flirting towards the new girl. Given her experience with smoking fetishers, it didn’t take long for Marie to figure out that Mark really liked women who smoked Capri 120’s. She bummed one from the new hire as they talked about how feminine and cute they were. Mark’s interest in their conversation about the cigarettes, along with the questions he asked about how they picked their brands and a few discreet probes on Marie’s part allowed her to discern that his weakness was specific to Capri 120 menthol girls. The next night, Marie brought her own pack of Capri 120’s menthols to work instead of the Virginia Slims 120’s. Even though the new hire was thinner and prettier than Marie was, she smoked like a new smoker with shallow inhales and immediate exhales. When Mark came in, Marie turned up the smoking flirtation heat, making sure that she smoked where he had a good view of her snap- and french-inhales and of her slow, elegant exhales. She and Mark left together after her shift, going back to his house.
He provided her with a free place to stay, sex, and the necessities of life, as well as a chance to spend a few of her days in classes at the local community college. She was getting tired of waitressing, and needed a higher-class job to land higher-class guys. While Mark wasn’t as well off as Danny, he was reliable, encouraging, and seemed quite happy with the implicit understanding between them. She became proficient at exhaling through her nose for him. It ended amicably when Mark decided to move from Sacramento to be closer to one of his children on the east coast. He let her stay in the house until it was sold, and that gave her enough time to finish the semester. She began to notice the explosion of the smoking fetish on the Internet, and toyed with the idea of providing her unique service as a business, but a personal ad on the Internet captured her attention first.
“Kind, middle-aged man looking for attractive smoking woman. Willing to be sole provider for household, but please, no children.” She went to Los Angeles to meet the guy; he was in his forties and seemed decent, if a little desperate. She told him flat out that she could smoke whatever he wanted, however he wanted, but that she wasn’t interested in marriage. He responded by asking her if she would consider a “no-strings-attached” type of relationship. Half-jokingly, Marie had then asked if he would be willing to put it in writing, and was surprised to find out that he was eager to do whatever it was that would get her smoking in his house. His was the first semi-official “contract.” It lasted almost four months, until the latest in a series of mental gurus convinced her benefactor that his fetish was “evil.” He threw her out with nothing but the clothes she had arrived with, keeping everything else, and putting her on the streets of LA. Marie stayed in a shelter the first night, but luck was on her side. She found another mark while looking for a job in the ads of an alternative newspaper. He was a fifty-something widower, but nothing like Mark. Her options being limited at that point, and with a revised contract to help protect her a little better, she became his fantasy woman for a couple of pretty good months until he started pushing her to chain smoke Pall Malls. She went out one night while he was away on business, and had pulled out a Virginia Slim 120 outside the bar. A flame appeared before she could dig into her purse for her lighter. By the end of the night, Marie had found a better place to land.
Kelly was a moderately successful agent in his mid-thirties, but if he was disappointed in not finding the next great actress in Marie, it didn’t show. He didn’t even bug her about being straight when it came to the coke he always seemed to have around. He loved having a wild-looking goth chick who smoked Virginia Slim 120’s on his arm when he went to parties; she was a great ice-breaker. He also actively liked the idea of a contract, and helped her draw it up. The arrangement was a lot like the one she had with Mark. Nothing extravagant, no relationship implied, but surprisingly, Kelly was less interested in her sexually than Mark had been. The worst thing about him was the fact that he wanted her to “perform” for him so he could casting couch somebody in a few minutes. It got even weirder when he started asking her to be in the room while he did the casting couch thing—but it was amazing the things some women would endure in order to get into the movies. It was a pretty good gig, and she enjoyed being on the fringes of the movie biz.
It was through Kelly that she met Roz. Beautiful face, milk chocolate skin, wonderful curves, a voice like honey—and a stone cold freak. Roz was the first woman to watch her smoke as intently as Kelly did, even when he was pumping at her. Marie had met a woman who was just as enthralled by her exotic smoking as any male smoking fetisher was. Kelly was into the two women being into each other, and the three of them became a minor item around town. Roz smoked More 120 Brown Light Regulars, and that was when Marie added them to the rotation of brands she smoked.
When Kelly had to do a turn in rehab, she and Roz played house. Sort of. After one night of serious tequila drinking, Roz taught her about using smoking to control someone. Marie wasn’t really into giving Roz the pain she seemed to enjoy so much, but went along with it because the girl could eat some serious pussy when she was properly—motivated.
“Damn! It’s been almost six years, and thinking of her still makes me wet,” Marie thought, licking her lips involuntarily. She lit another More in memory of her first serious lesbian relationship. She drew, deep and long, and slowly lifted her chin to exhale very slowly, sending a blossoming plume of smoke into the air, just the way Roz liked to see it. She smoked for her invisible partner, the oral exhales long and silent, always with her chin raised, looking down her nose at her lover from long ago. Marie took a healthy drink of her martini, and let herself drift back into some of the more pleasant memories of her past…
Roz and she were still there when Kelly got back from rehab, but he wasn’t quite the same old Kelly. He spent more time at his office in an attempt to avoid them. However, living under the same roof as two incredibly sexual women had an inevitable effect, and the three of them were once again an item—but it didn’t do much good for Kelly’s business because things had become more—conservative. They all agreed that Roz had to leave, at least nominally, and no longer be a member of Kelly’s “harem.” Marie spent more of her time with Roz than with Kelly, but she was still his go-to gal for parties, and still provided the inspiration for his sessions on the casting couch, although he no longer had her in the room at the same time.
Roz got a role in a movie in Tijuana, and asked Marie to join her for Marie’s twenty-third birthday weekend. It was three days of absolute debauchery…
Marie lit another More immediately after the last one, saluting Roz. Six years later, Marie could still feel echoes of the pleasure they’d given each other over that long weekend. The memories of the hedonistic fun of those three days were still incredibly vivid, causing her pussy to twitch. Amazing. Even after six years…
“Hey, Marie, do you need another one?” Her recollections came to a screeching halt when Georgia reappeared. “I just got the word that we’re gonna close early tonight, so this is last call. I’ll refill for free, but I’m afraid you’re gonna have to leave in about a half-hour or so.”
Marie checked her watch. She’d been reminiscing in solitude for an hour and a half, and figured that Colin would be asleep by now, or at least too tired to make any demands. “No thanks, Georgia. I’ll finish up, and head home after this.”
“Colin, I don’t know how to say this, but, I like you. You’re a great guy, really. We’ve had lots of fun, but… I think I should move on.” That sounded awful hollow to Marie. She’d faked being asleep when he woke up, and now he was out shopping—no doubt in order to make a special dinner for her. He was a sweet guy. Maybe it would help if she gave the Beamer back. Who am I kidding? He doesn’t care about the car or what he’s paying on it near as much as he cares about me. She sighed. If only he were more like Mark or Kelly. Why couldn’t he just accept that their relationship was transitory, and move on?
Instead, she had another Danny on her hands. The chances that he’d do the same stupid thing that Danny did were remote—although she couldn’t say for sure that they didn’t exist—but she knew that her departure would depress him horribly. It was just business, and she’d made that clear from the start, but she was still in the position of having to let him down gently. She’d twisted his arm into this, and he’d basically twisted his body so that it didn’t hurt. He enjoyed having her around. Worse, she enjoyed being around, but not at the cost of her independence and self-esteem. Being here now constantly reminded her that she had exchanged herself as a smoking fetish fantasy come true for his financial support. “High-priced escort for nerdy man-boys… what a load of shit!”
She looked at herself in the mirror. I’ll be thirty next year, and I know that I do not want to feel obligated to smoke for some guy’s fantasy fulfillment, even if I can barely make rent. I’ve been poor before, and even without Colin’s support I’m not as bad off as I’ve been. Now I’ve got a decent job, and I can afford my own stuff, and I won’t run through my savings, even if I leave him the car and the furniture. I guess need to get ready to move out before I can give him the bad news. I wouldn’t blame him if he told me to get out now, and I will need a roof over my head without paying for a hotel.
By the time Colin pulled up to his townhouse (it is his place, not “mine,” or “ours,”) Marie had decided that she would be taking some time off from work this coming week to look at cars and apartments. She’d let him figure out what he wanted to do with the Beamer. “Hi Marie!” he enthusiastically said as he brought in the first load of groceries. “Linguini with pesto chicken OK for tonight?”
“Sure,” she replied, without much enthusiasm, as she walked out to bring in some of the remaining groceries.
“What’s the matter?” Colin asked. “Are you still tired from work? You were out awful late. I think they should give you a raise.”
His assumption gave her an easy out, so she took it. “Yeah, I’m really beat. I think I may be coming down with something,” she lied. “I don’t know if—”
“—That’s OK,” Colin cheerfully replied. “I understand how it is. I know about being beat after work. Don’t worry about doing anything tonight. I can hang.” Damn his sweet nature. “I promise, nothing more involved than watching a movie at home if that’s what you want.” And damn his understanding. I just know I’m gonna feel like the universe’s most evil bitch when I give him the news. And I probably deserve to feel like it, too.
That night, Marie played up being sick, going so far as to not smoke at all. “Gotta sore throat,” she had said. Colin accepted that with all the pleasantness in the world, not giving her his “please let me watch you smoke,” puppy dog look all night, and letting her go to bed alone while he stayed up to play on his computer. Her conscience started nagging at her as soon as she woke up on Sunday. Waves of guilt continually, relentlessly pounded at her all day. She finally sent Colin out for a pack of Capri 120’s menthols at three in the afternoon. Marie turned off the television, lit one, and did a big snap-inhale. “This is for you,” she husked. She dragged, keeping her eye on the growing tent in his pants. She dipped her head slowly after the draw, then tilted it back and slowly released the smoke in twin thick streams from her nostrils. He made a peeping sound.
“I’m gonna put on a sexy smoking show just for you until you cum, Colin,” she purred. Marie drew on the Capri one more time, hard, and opened her mouth, french-inhaling in slow motion. She casually turned her head to the side, simultaneously adjusting her body so he still got a profile view of her exhale, smoke issuing from her nose as well as her mouth. She did a half-spin, and posed with the Capri held vertically at the end of her extended arm. Her next draw was punctuated with a combination snap and french-inhale. She gave him his favorite profile view once more, raised her chin, and let the smoke flow silently from her lips, joined by a few extra wisps from her nose. His breathing was beginning to get ragged. She pulled another Capri from the pack and dropped the first one into an ashtray, still burning.
“I know how you like to see them. So long, slim and elegant. Feminine,” Marie continued, before lighting the super slim, long, white cigarette. She lazily exhaled towards the ceiling with the Capri held near the filter end making it look as long as she could. Her wrist was gently angled, arm extended, and she brought the Capri back to her lips and drew, a burst of smoke coming from her nose before visibly swallowing the smoke. She returned the cigarette to its resting position, slowly lifted her chin, and eased her chest forward to silent expel the smoke through her lips…
“OHHHHHHHHH…” Colin’s deep, throaty moan told her that she had achieved her goal. She drew again, not bothering to watch him, continuing her performance as she heard his body thrash on the sofa. Another slow-motion french-inhale, raise the head, wait for it… wait… and exhale through the nose. “ARRRGGHHHHH!!!” Good. And now for the big snap-inhale, and extend the arm to hold the cigarette daintily… Lift the chin, and… exhale, slowly, easily, no noise. “GGGKKKKKGGGAAAACCCCKKK!!!!! ” He should be just about finished now. One more french-inhale, and I’ll exhale slowly through my nose… She finally turned to look at Colin after he let a long, loud, sated sigh go. His cum was everywhere. She took a small drag and crushed out the Capri, exhaling nosily, carelessly and turned to go upstairs. “Marie?” he softly panted. She turned back and paused at the steps. “Thank… you,” he said. She nodded in acknowledgement and hurried away from the scene she’d just caused.
She was rewarded with crab-stuffed salmon and saffron rice with grilled asparagus for dinner, followed by a chocolate cappucino gateau for dessert, which only made everything worse. Marie knew she shouldn’t do it, but she came downstairs after he’d finished cleaning up from dinner with a Capri in a holder, and stood, posed elegantly, fetchingly on the steps. She took a deep draw, lazily lifted her chin, and exhaled a thick stream from her mouth. He gasped, gaping at her with awe from the sofa. Marie drew again, long, inhaling as she drew, sending smoke through her nostrils, and turned her head so he could see the creamy flow from her nose.
The bulge in his pants looked enormous, despite his massive earlier release. Her initial idea of just being there for him to masturbate vanished, because suddenly, she was one gigantic, engorged clit. Marie’s body, having been deprived of intercourse for a while, had just betrayed her. She dropped the cigarette and holder into the ashtray, her clothes into a heap on the floor at his feet, and quickly climbed onto him without a word. She bounced gently a few times, felt herself get very wet, and then her hips began to churn enthusiastically. “Ohgodogodogodogod… Colin… Colin… COLIN!!!” she screamed when a violent, reality-twisting orgasm hit her within the first couple of minutes. He continued to churn at her from below, and everything got… real… fuzzy…
Marie climbed off of his shrinking cock accompanied by a loud squishing sound. He was still in la-la land, completely drained of energy on the sofa, his eyes unfocused, his chest heaving. Now even the sex is great, she unhappily thought, lighting a post-orgasmic smoke as she usually did when she’d been fucked well. Of course, this had a predictable effect on him. Twenty minutes later, Marie was underneath him, almost an outside observer to the sex she was having. Her hips set his rhythm and the direction of his enthusiastic thrusts as her traitorous body greedily urged more and more sensation from their coupling. “FUCK!” she yelped when he hit a good spot. He had long ago learned what that meant, and promptly found the same good spot again and again and again until Marie’s voice went up an octave and her back arched off of the floor, lifting him on top of her, her internal convulsions locking him in place as she was lost in space and time.
“UFFFFF!!!” The grunt was forced out of her when she collapsed onto the floor, and her body immediately redoubled the urgency of its movements, trying to draw every possible ounce of energy from Colin. He began to grunt with the effort of each thrust, and her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close until she felt him get bigger inside.
“AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!” It was Colin’s turn to scream incoherently, his cock burning intensely inside of Marie slick, noisy, clinging warmth, then it stopped for an eternal instant and he felt his nuts tighten again… “GGGNNNRRRHHHNNNGGGG!!!” He viciously stabbed at her, driving himself as deeply as he could, and he felt her hands on his ass pulling at him and… “Ohhhhhh,” he sighed, more cum flowing from him into her and he wiggled as the burning began to fade, slowly, holding her so tightly, and she wrapped around him for this blissful eternity.
They lay next to each other on the floor, too wiped out to move or speak for a while. Finally, Colin managed, “Marie… That was… incredible.”
She smiled, the post-orgasmic buzz and incredibly pleasant afterglow rendering her mind too addled to care that she was going to leave him, and that this had been a very big mistake. Right now, at this specific moment in time, it was all good.
Marie arrived at work with sore legs. However, the happy memories and minor echoes of last night’s pleasure were consumed by the now-logical realization that she had just made it even more difficult to break up with Colin. Worse, with the big meeting having just concluded, it was a very slow day at work, leaving her with lots of time to think about it. I knew I was horny, but… why did I just go so much with his fetish? He already thinks that I get off on doing that for him… and I just gave him more encouragement. Her mind flashed back to the passionate good night kiss. He wasn’t going to understand that sometimes you just need somebody to kiss after that… it would mean much more to him than it did to her—which was the whole heart of the problem, and last night had made it much worse.
It was so slow that morning that Marie considered telling Frank that she was going to take the afternoon off, but where would she go? She wasn’t in the mood to deal with used car dealers, and she hadn’t yet checked the Sunday paper for an apartment, so she wasn’t quite ready to go looking for that, either. Colin’s place wasn’t really an option—the smell of the smoky sex they’d had last night was just going to bother her even more. She opened up the on-line version of the newspaper and went to the car ads. Might as well get started. The longer I wait, the more chance I have of last night happening again.
Frank called her at about four p.m. and asked her to come into his office. She grabbed her notepad and went into his office, thankful to have something to do that didn’t deal with breaking up with Colin. “Have a seat, Marie,” frank said as he closed the door. He sat behind his desk, looking at her without a word, his face a mixture of emotions. Finally, he heaved a sigh, and grimly began, “I got a phone call from George.” Marie was surprised at that: George must have called Frank on his cell, because no calls had come through her desk all day. “He told me that one of our key investors is going to sell out to a competitor, and that the buyer doesn’t want to make the same long-term commitment of funds.”
That’s not good. There goes the rosy forecast for the next six quarters. “He and I talked at length, and…” Frank’s voice trailed off. “Well… we need to make some—economies. Given our current project load, we can’t do anything about technical staff… and… well…” He hung his head, and Marie suddenly realized why she was in his office with the door closed. “I have to let you go. George thinks that we can reapportion your district duties to the branches, and that your local duties… well, he thinks that we had done OK before you arrived.”
“When…” she croaked. This was a disaster. Talk about the worst thing that could happen right now.
“I argued with him,” Frank interrupted, clearly upset. “I mean, I think you’re valuable and that we need you here. I offered to reduce your raise, to see if we could at least keep you part-time or something, but he seemed set on the idea. All the branches are losing someone, or something, so you’re not the only one.”
Marie doubted that. And here I thought you were one of the good guys, George. She swallowed hard, and repeated, “When?” You bastard. Getting back at me like this is low.
Frank sadly shook his head. “He wanted to dismiss you effective Friday, to start saving money right away. I know it’s bad when he invokes the emergency termination clause.” Marie’s insides twisted. That wouldn’t give her any time to prepare anything! “But…” He looked at her, and Marie could see how painful this was for him. George, you should have just told me Friday night. You’re a cheap shit for making Frank the axe man. He doesn’t deserve this angst. “Well, I just got off the phone with Mary Anne. She thinks it’s brutal, too. I asked her how she would feel if I used some of my bonus to keep you through the end of the month. I’ve still got a little bit of control over the branch budget.”
“No, Frank,” Marie flatly said. “I can’t take money away from your family, even if Mary Anne says that it’s OK. Tell her that I appreciate the offer, but I’m a big girl. I can deal.” Now if I only really felt like that. “Tell her I said thank you—thank you both. It’s been a great ten months.”
“You still have vacation pay due you,” Frank said, grasping at the few straws left to him. “Don’t argue. I know that you haven’t been vested, but at my branch, vacation time starts building up from the date of hire. I also owe you something for last week. You spent a lot of extra time on that meeting, your time, and you deserve to be compensated fiscally. Again, don’t argue.” Marie smiled sadly and nodded. Frank and Mary Anne were good people—and now she knew that you really couldn’t tell who the good ones were until bad shit started to happen. “You can clean out your desk whenever. I only ask that you come in at least once more so we can take you out to lunch.” He looked out of his window. “Whatever George says be damned. I’ve never had to let someone go like this, and I’m not going to let you remember me as the man who chopped you off at the knees,” he declared. “Of course you can use my name as a reference.”
Marie stood up and extended her hand. “Thanks, Frank. You’re a good guy. I’ve enjoyed working here, and I hope my next boss is as good to his people as you are to yours.”
He shook it and told her to keep in touch. “If things change, you’ll be the first person I call.”
They won’t change for me unless George kicks the bucket. “I appreciate that. I’ll clean out my stuff tomorrow, if that’s OK. I think I just need to go home right now.”
“You gonna be OK?”
“Yeah,” she sniffed, lying. “I’ll be fine.” She walked out of his office, composed, calm, pausing at his door to fight off the tears. She brightly said good night to the people she passed on her way out, and climbed into her car. Gunning the motor, she drove away from work like she did every day, and once she’d gotten out of view, she pulled into the corner of a nearby parking lot, and cried, long, loud, and hard.
She waited until she had stopped crying before she swung the Beamer onto the highway for the drive home, and by the time she pulled up to Colin’s, her tears wouldn’t fall; they were evaporating from the white-hot anger that had been building during the drive. He wasn’t home yet. Good. Marie pulled her cell phone out and dialed George’s number. “Hello, George here.”
“You’re a bastard,” she snarled.
“Hey, it didn’t make business sense to keep you on,” George snidely returned. “The cost/benefit analysis I did on the trip home said that you were no longer an asset to the company, and a waste of resources.”
“I don’t mean about that, asshole,” she shot back. “You could have done that on Friday. You made Frank your axe man. He didn’t deserve it, even if you think I did.” She took a breath and quickly resumed, “When I came out here, I took this job seriously, and I did a damned good job—you weren’t just bullshitting everybody last week. Don’t think that just because I won’t smoke Mores and spread my legs whenever you get the urge that I can’t do this job. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking about that with a brand-new daughter at home, someone who’s going to worship the ground you walk on.”
“Look, Marie, we had fun,” George sighed on the other end of the line, aggrieved. “You got some cash and lots of cool stuff out of the deal. I just don’t want to afford you any more. Take what you got and be happy with it. And you certainly have nothing to blackmail me with—you couldn’t afford the lawyer it would take to make your case against mine. It would just come out as a bitter ex-employee, so why don’t you quit—” Marie didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say as her cell phone splintered on impact with the wall. She started crying again, and this time, there wasn’t any anger to protect her.
Marie was still crying when Colin came through the door. He dropped his bag and ran to hold her, and she did not resist, continuing to sob on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?” She tearfully told him that she’d been fired. “Why? For what? I thought you did a great job last week?” he gaped.
“I did,” she sniffled. “I was fired—well, downsized. The company got some bad news, and they decided to eliminate my position.” Colin stepped back. “It really sucks,” Marie sniffled, trying to compose herself enough to have a conversation with him. He doesn’t need to know that it was specifically targeted at me.
“Well, you’ll find another job because you’re good at what you do,” Colin encouraged. His face suddenly brightened. “I can probably get you on at Altus, because they owe me. When would you be able to start?”
“Colin… that’s really sweet,” Marie said, sincerely, but then she bit her tongue. I can’t move out and work at the same company as him. It wouldn’t be fair to him. “But…” Her hand had been forced. “I was actually thinking of releasing you from the contract. I mean, I had gotten a raise, and I was going to be able to support myself. I was even going to give the Beamer back. Of course you’ll keep the furniture, too. I can’t move it, and I made you throw your stuff out,” she babbled, everything coming out in a rush. “I’ve got a savings account and I’ll be OK on my own and—”
“Why? Especially now?” he asked.
“Because you’re falling in love with me, and I can’t let you do that!” It just came out. Marie hadn’t meant to be that blunt and that emphatic. She steeled herself for the inevitable emotional outburst.
Instead, Colin cocked his head and simply asked, “Why?” Marie’s mouth hung open. “Why can’t you let me fall in love with you? Mine won’t be the first heart you break—if that happens.” He calmly walked over to the sofa and sat down. “I know that you think of yourself as a high-priced escort for nerdy man-boys, but… you’re still here. You could have taken the Beamer, you could have moved out at any time. You would have, if you didn’t find this situation livable. You’ve had lots of fun, and you’ve met a girlfriend, and you still have me. Whether or not you want to admit it, this situation suits you. You’re comfortable, and I don’t know why you’d want to change it, especially now.”
“Because you’re a nice guy, and I’m a cold, calculating, greedy, materialistic bitch,” Marie bitterly replied. “I’ve been using the smoking fetish to get what I want, and I have been for years. The next time I see a better chance to get more stuff, I’m out of here. I’d rather cut the ties… while you still have something left, and before it really, really hurts you.” She looked at him, aghast. “How can you not feel that I’ve been taking advantage of you, Colin?”
“Let’s see…” he began, “over the past ten months or so, I’ve become a gourmet cook. I have more friends, many of whom it would have scared me to death just to look at them on the street nine months ago. I can go to a party and not feel out-of-place. I’ve become real good in bed and my sexual horizons have—expanded.” He paused and gave her a wry smile before continuing, “My town home is nicely decorated, well enough that I could host a party. I dress better, more stylishly now. You were the one that said a contract implied that both parties get some tangible benefit. It just took a while for me to appreciate mine.”
“But…”
“You think I’m a nice guy, and you think I’m cute. I like you a lot, and not just because you’re sexy when you smoke. I don’t know why you think that you would have to leave now before you find greener pastures. If you do.” He looked at her with friendly concern. “Marie, you’re almost thirty. How long can you keep this up? How long do you want to be… pardon the term, a smoking prostitute, albeit a very high-class, exclusive one?”
“I don’t want to be one any more,” she replied. “That’s why I want to leave. And my conscience feels better if I leave you with all the stuff you’ve bought for me because of my… profession.”
“Then stop being one,” Colin simply said. Marie protested that it wasn’t that simple. “Sure it is. Don’t smoke for me. Buy whatever you want to smoke. Buy a bedroom set and move into the other bedroom. Start paying rent when you find a new job until you can get settled someplace else.”
He makes it sound too easy. “But what about you?”
Colin shrugged. “I’ll manage—as long as you forgive me for staring at you occasionally when you’re smoking. I hope you’d consider going out with me.”
Marie sadly shook her head and he asked why not. “Because, Colin, I’m no good. You deserve somebody better than me.”
“I’ll thank you to let me decide what I want, and what I deserve,” he snapped. “Don’t treat me like a child, Marie. I’m not the same stupid geek you buffaloed ten months ago.” She gaped at him in shock. When did he get so assertive? “I may still have trouble with the Sharaya thing, especially when it’s just you two, and I know it. But… that’s only jealousy talking.” He took a deep breath. “I like you.”
Everything he was saying was making her feel funny. “You don’t know me, Colin.” Why was he making this so difficult? Why wouldn’t he just kick her out like she had asked?
He patted the sofa. “Then I want to get to know you.”
“You know, you’re being entirely too nice to me. I’m beginning to wear down,” Marie warned, her voice flat. “I do terrible things to get my way.”
“I know,” he somberly answered. “Let me make this mistake, if it is one. Don’t make me wonder, ‘what if…’.”
She carefully sat down on the sofa, sitting a respectful distance away from him. “You want to know how I got to be Marie Jones? Fine. I’ll tell you, and then you can decide. It’ll cost you the Beamer.” She coldly looked at him. “It’s not pretty, and if you want me to stop now, I’ll move out as soon as I can, and you can keep the Beamer. That’s who I am.”
“Fuck the car,” he shot back. “Talk.”
“I’m trailer trash from just outside of Seattle. I dropped out of high school, and I smoke like this because some club owner and a few of his buddies had a smoking fetish and a thing for young girls. I figured out very young that men were generous if you scratched their peculiar itches. I’ve taken guys for cars, money, clothes, whatever I could get them to give me, and the list is very long,” she recited. “I’ve left guys without so much as a note for a new sucker.” Marie removed a Capri 120 menthol. “You’re getting hard just thinking about me lighting up. I could ask you for money right now, and you’d be willing to give me a little bit. And tomorrow, a little bit more, and the day after that…” She put it back into the pack. “You’re a sucker for whatever trips your trigger, just like all guys are. I use that to get what I want when I want it. It’s too damn easy.”
She hiked up her dress and pointed to her pussy. “And this… ‘oh ,you’re making me cum, oh god you feel so good baby, oh fuck me, fuck me some more, fuck me in my ass, I love it,’” Marie mimicked. “Men adore hearing shit like that. They don’t care if it’s true or not, just as long as you say it in what they think is passion. I spread my legs for money and material things, Colin. It’s how I live. It’s what I do. Face it, I’m a whore.” She pulled her dress down and stood up. “Thank you for the car—sucker.” She uncaringly turned away from him to go upstairs.
“You don’t mean that,” he softly said, but with conviction. Marie turned back to fire a volley of insults at him, but he interrupted by resuming, “I may have bought you the car you wanted because I was a sucker, but I’m letting you keep it as a friend.” He stood. “I’ve been watching—observing—you for the past couple of months, because you stopped smoking sexily long enough for me to notice that you were getting to be more and more interesting out of bed. Now I can see past the Marie Jones, self-described trailer trash whore, who preys on smoking fetishers.” He held up his hand. “Let me finish, and then you can pack up at your leisure and walk out, but I’m not going to let you go without an argument. If a guy doesn’t care about you, then I agree that he won’t care if what you say during sex is true, as long as it sounds good. On the other hand, if he does care, then he knows when you’re lying. You didn’t have to smoke like you did after dinner last night, and you sure didn’t have to inspire a second round.” She protested that she had been horny, and that it had just been sex.
Colin shook his head. “You can tell yourself that, but you love it when you don’t have to do anything to get something nice, because I’ve seen it in your eyes over dinner in this house,” he correctly noted. “Then, because you’re comfortable in knowing that I don’t expect anything in return, you were perfectly free to go into the living room and smoke a Saratoga. You missed me in bed as much as I missed you.”
Marie had grossly underestimated the effect that she had on Colin—he was no longer some pliant little geek she could take for a ride until the next one she met. He’d actually developed the backbone she’d been asking him to, and he was going to fight to keep her, because he thought that she was worth keeping. It dawned on her that the catalyst for all of this had been her refusal to play smoking seductress and fulfill his smoky sex fantasies. She also realized that because he didn’t see her as just a smoking fetish whore, he also gave her the freedom not to see herself as one. She was indeed, out of the business.
“Can I ask you a question?” Colin said as they lay in bed together, Marie smoking a Capri in the holder, french-inhaling slowly for him because he liked it, and she liked doing it for him. She purred an affirmative. “How—where—did you learn about the smoking fetish?”
“It was my job,” she truthfully replied. “I had to do it better than anybody else.”
“When did you decide to become a—specialist?” His cock bobbed, hardening again as he watched her slow, nasal exhale. She didn’t have to smoke sexily for him… but it had its—benefits. He was a great lover. She had trained him well.
“Never heard it called that before,” she wryly noted, giving him a kiss. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me,” he said, stuffing his cock under the sheets. “That can wait.”
“Are you sure?” Marie lewdly intoned, and then dragged on the holder, finishing with a show-stopper of a french-inhale. To her surprise, he said yes, that he wanted to know. She put the Capri out. “I’ll be better able to concentrate on telling the story—hope you don’t mind.” He assured her that he didn’t. “It’s not always pretty,” she hedged.
“But it’s your story, and I asked you for it,” he gently encouraged. “I know what you did for a living. I was a part of it for ten months, and I still want you here with me. I know that you’re in bed with me now because you want to be.”
“I always thought you were cute,” she smiled. After a silence, she sighed. He wasn’t going to let it drop. She felt funny—her past wasn’t something she was very proud of—but Colin’s patient way, the calmness of his manner, and the gentle, supportive grasp of his hand overcame her reluctance. “I guess it really started when I was fourteen. Some friends and I snuck into a nightclub—I didn’t have what you call a real good home life—we knew the bouncer and he let us in—and we got caught—by the owner.
“Johnny—the owner—took us to the office and kinda read us the riot act, but not really. I lit up, and instead of kicking us out, he let us hang out. Free booze, and he smoked Saratogas, which he said were like Marlboro 120’s. I started bumming them from him, ’cause I was poor then, and pretty soon I figured out he was paying more attention to me than to any of my friends. So I led him on. I know he was a creep, but I didn’t have many morals back then—still don’t—and we started having a relationship—as long as I smoked Saratogas. I dropped out of school and spent a lot of time going to parties with him. I was meeting other guys who liked to watch young girls smoke—and I got all the booze, drugs, sex, and smokes I wanted. Along with a little money from time to time. One night I took some drug, and I got real sick. I couldn’t go to the hospital, because somebody would get suspicious. It took me like a week to get better, and it made my mom watch me like a hawk. I swore off drugs, but I was addicted to the attention and the party thing and the atmosphere and the money, so I kept sneaking out whenever I could and hanging out with the same group.
“Johnny got busted for child porn, and his nightclub got shut down, but by then, everybody in the club scene knew me, and I could get into most of the other places. I hung out with Johnny’s friends, the ones who weren’t nailed in the porn thing. They were just as addicted to me, my smoking, and the sex I gave them as I was to their attention and—financial incentives.” Colin’s grip never wavered, so Marie took comfort from that, along with a deep breath, and continued.
“I met this one guy—Richard—who owned a restaurant at one of their little parties. He thought I was smoking Marlboros and said he had a place for me to stay in the city if I wanted. Things were never good between my mom and me, and I was almost eighteen, so I moved out of our trailer and into Richard’s crash pad. He used it when he was too beat from the restaurant to go home. He was my first real sugar daddy, and I had him wrapped around my finger—as long as it didn’t cause any problems with his wife and as long as I smoked Marlboro Reds. We’d fuck a few times a week, and he got me a job at some other restaurant so I could make the rest of my living. He paid rent and utilities, but I still had to eat n’stuff.
“I got tired of him telling me what to smoke and having to be around whenever he wanted. I ran into another guy, a younger guy who had the fetish real, real bad. I moved in with him, and he was just so… happy to put up with as much shit as I could throw at him. All it took was for me to smoke the way he liked to watch.” Marie paused, debating internally how much to tell Colin about Danny. “That’s when I learned about using cigarette holders and started smoking nothing but real long cigarettes. He was a Nat Sherman’s freak, so I smoked 164’s most of the time, and discovered a lot more about getting male attention by smoking. When that—broke up, I basically whored around. The old gang was still together—Johnny’s friends—and they weren’t as specific about age as he was, so they were still happy to have me around. I could get a little bit of money from them for smoking and fucking, but not enough to support myself without working my ass off at two retail jobs, so I left Seattle at twenty, and worked my way south. I spent some time in Sacramento with a guy who liked Capri 120 smokers, and got my head a little straighter. I took classes and cocktailed nights. I was trying not to party, because that had gotten me nowhere. I was still poor, and I couldn’t see doing that for the rest of my life.
“I spent time in L.A., living with, and smoking for one guy, and then another, and then I hooked up with a movie agent with the fetish. I met an actress through him, and learned that I really was bisexual. That last pair of relationships lasted for almost two years. I found myself in San Diego one night, and that’s where I met George, the guy that owns the company I used to work for.” Colin squeezed her hand.
“Is that why you got fired?” he softly asked.
Damn, he’s a lot more perceptive than I thought. “Yes,” she replied, seeing no need to hide it from him any longer. Besides, it felt good to be able to tell someone. “George—is an extreme More fetisher. Only by seeing a woman smoking a More does he get—excited. I was smoking one when I met him. His wife doesn’t smoke at all. He offered me a job as his ‘personal assistant.’ All I had to do was to get rid of the body jewelry, and dress less—radically. He said he’d buy me a business wardrobe and set me up with my own apartment, and buy my brown More Light 120’s for me. He said if I smoked anything else, the deal was off. I figured that I could live with that, because he was going to pay me a real salary. I’d be earning more money than I had in my life, and all I had to pay for was food and utilities. It sounded like a great deal. I left the agent and my girlfriend without telling them anything. I waited until they were at work, and moved all my stuff out. George paid for the movers, too.
“There was a motel next door to the company and we’d go there for lunch or after work and I’d smoke for him. He was a good lover—the first guy who ever really paid attention to what made me feel good. He also seemed like he wanted me to succeed beyond fucking. I got my associate’s degree, and learned about computers, and went from being his—quote, ‘personal assistant’, unquote—to being the administrative assistant to the company’s president, because I worked hard to learn everything I could about the company and how it ran and what needed to be done, so I could be legit. But I still smoked brown More Light 120’s for him, and he got his sexual fulfillment exclusively from me. This went on for five years. He wasn’t going to leave his wife, and I didn’t need or want a boyfriend, so I was happy with the arrangement, too. Somehow, his wife managed to get pregnant, and that’s when I got transferred here. Stupid Marie just thought that he was being a nice guy, and was rewarding me for being so capable. Instead, he expected to continue our—relationship—whenever he came into town on business. That’s why I was so late getting home Friday. I went out for drinks with him after business was finished, thinking that we were just friends and professional colleagues.” Marie took a deep breath. The things George had said to her Friday night still hurt. “Instead, I find out that all he wanted was for me to smoke for him so we could fuck like old times.”
Apprehensively, Colin interrupted, “Did you?”
Marie couldn’t blame him for being worried. “No,” she replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze that was meant to reassure him. “That was when I broke it off with him. Silly me. I thought he sent me here to do a job,” she sniffled, the tears starting to come. “This whole thing made me realize that I was just a whore to him, one that he treated real nice, but that was all I ever was. And when I stopped being a whore for him, he didn’t want me any more.”
“And when you stopped being a whore for me, it made me realize that I want you,” Colin rejoined, stilling her tears. She gave him a deep, wet kiss. How in the hell did she get this lucky? She picked up the holder and reached for the Capri 120’s. “Ummm… Marie?” Colin shyly began. “It’s real late. Can you not do that? I’m going to be late to work as it is.” She hungrily kissed him again, complying, and they climbed under the covers, snuggling.
“Colin?” He hummed in response. “I’m gonna need a new cell phone. I busted the old one when I threw it against the wall.” He sat up, radiating incredulity. “I called George to bitch him out for making Frank his hatchet man, and he just made me so angry—”
“Forget it,” he interrupted, settling back in. “Pick one up tomorrow. I’ll bring our current job postings home so we can find you a job at Altus,” he yawned. “Marie? I love you.”
She inhaled sharply. “Colin? I can’t say that. I’m not—there.” Marie paused, causing a silence to stretch out in the darkened room. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right, I know you’re not there,” he gently replied, warming her with his tone. “All I ask is that you give me an honest chance to get you there.”
Colin’s parents weren’t too sure about Marie the first time he brought her home to meet them. Marie was so impressed by his adamant support of her and their relationship that she’d accepted his proposal that night. “Marie, when we first met, you figured out that I wanted to have little nerds and nerdettes,” he’d said in the bar they had gone to after leaving his folks’ place, where she could smoke. He removed a black jewelry box from the inside pocket of his jacket. “I think they’d be much less likely to be so nerdy if you were their mother.”
“I am so happy for you two!” Lauren bubbled, greeting Colin and Marie at the door to their townhouse. “You make such a good couple! Colin, I’m happy to see that you didn’t screw this up!” She gave him a smooch on the cheek. The first party ever held at their townhouse was an engagement party, held eighteen months to the day that they had first met in the music room at the Big Hill. It was full of a wide range of people from their lives: the professionals from their jobs (including some of the people from Marie’s old job), the goths and slackers from their social circle, and Colin’s parents. They seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the body art and jewelry around, and the fact that their normal son was so friendly with so many of them, but seeing all the professionally dressed people reassured them that their son hadn’t completely gone off the deep end for this girl.
Frank and Mary Anne were pleased to hear that Marie was already in line for a manager’s position at Altus in the non-technical services division. “I still can’t figure out why George was so keen on firing you. I found out that he hadn’t cut out nearly as much as he’d said he had to at the last district meeting,” Frank said. “Nobody else got cut. He sure could have kept you, but I think you’re happier and better off at Altus. It’s more challenging than keeping me straight.”
“Could anything be more challenging than that?” Marie joked, taking the opportunity to get away from the topic of George.
Mary Anne immediately added, “Nope,” and they both enjoyed watching her husband’s face turn crimson. Colin announced dinner to the gathering; they’d catered everything except dessert, which he had insisted on making himself—and teaching Marie how to do it as well. Murmurs of appreciation for his culinary achievement circled throughout the gathering when the main course was done. After dinner, the socializations resumed, with Colin’s folks bidding good night. Colin’s mother smiled at Marie as she left, a genuine, affectionate one, and she finally felt—accepted—for who she was.
“Colin,” Marie whispered to her fiancé. He was watching Lauren through the patio door. The Virginia Slim 120 held so elegantly, looking very long between her fingers. The long, effortless, flowing exhales were—fetching. And now she had the added attraction of displaying her skill at french-inhaling with each drag. Marie understood, but… “Please stop watching her. I taught her how to french-inhale for her own amusement, not yours,” she said, nudging him in the ribs with a gentle elbow. “Step away from the patio door, and go socialize, dear.” She smiled at him, turned, and bumped into Sharaya, who had just come back to town.
“That is some rock,” Sharaya said, admiring her engagement ring. “He really fell for you, didn’t he?” Marie happily nodded and beamed in response. “Guess the feeling’s mutual, huh?” Marie acknowledged that it was. Sharaya stood on tiptoe, and with a disappointed pout, whispered into her ear, “Does this mean we don’t get to play with each other any more?”
“No,” came an equally soft whisper from beside her. “We’re both very happy you came to the party, Sharaya,” Colin grinned, giving her a peck on the cheek. “It’s always good to see you.” He went upstairs where a few of his buddies were putting his water-cooled monster through its paces.
“Izzat the same geeky guy? He sure looks an awful lot like Colin,” Sharaya asked, slightly confused.
“You’re half-right. It is Colin, but he’s not the same geeky guy. You missed a lot while you were gone,” Marie said. Her voice dropped. “We’ll fill you in next Saturday. Be here, or I won’t be happy with you. You and I will talk more tomorrow. When we can be alone.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Sharaya excitedly replied with a sparkling, feral smile.
“Are you tired, Colin?” asked Marie. The party had lasted much longer than anticipated—the last of the so-called normal folks hadn’t left until two a.m. She vanished into the downstairs half bathroom.
“Yeah,” he admitted, sinking wearily into the cushions of the sofa. “Had fun, though.” He called, “You know we’ll start getting pestered for a date.”
Marie reappeared with a freshly lit More in the long holder, which she had hidden in the bathroom about an hour ago, waiting for just this moment. “Do you really—” She drew, and let some smoke stream through her nose before tossing her head and exhaling to the ceiling through her lips with her back arched and impishly finished, “—want to think about that right this minute?” He looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. Marie dragged again, turning slowly away from him, allowing him to see her snap-inhale. She exhaled silently, sending a long stream across the room as a few residual wisps came from her nose. “Let me ask you again—” The smoke flowed from her lips to her nose in a creamy stream after her draw. “—Are you tired?” She smiled, invitingly, and very slowly sashayed up the steps, the holder and its long brown occupant extended daintily between her index and middle fingers. All the lights on the first floor had been turned off before she reached the top step.
Energized, and with his cock inflating, Colin pursued his gold digging goth to the bedroom door. He paused for a few moments, allowing himself a satisfied little smile, thinking that he was the one who had really struck gold. Then he slowly opened the door to see his Marie, reclined on the bed with her head tilted back, release a steady, long, backlit stream of smoke from her nostrils. “Be a shame to let all this—experience—go to waste,” she husked, smiling at him.