A gorgeous, petite woman with curly red hair down just below her shoulders slowly walked by my table at the outdoor café, looking around. She paused, then turned back to me. "Joe?"
I stood up. "Hi. Jackie?"
She smiled, her face full of relief. "Yes, I’m happy to meet you." We shook hands and sat at the table across from each other. "You’re like the third guy I’ve met through the dating service, and I never know what to expect." She looked around. "This is certainly different," she said as she crossed her short, but shapely legs.
"How so?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.
"Well, the first guy met me at a Starbuck’s in a book store, and the second guy met me in a fancy coffee place. You’re here on the sidewalk in the middle of hundreds of people wearing jeans and a hockey tee shirt."
"I’m a casual guy," I offered. "Besides, there’s enough around here to do that you might spend some time here after our meeting, especially if it’s a disaster. That way, you haven’t wasted a trip," I smiled. "I thought this might make a good place to meet informally."
She smiled. "I like it. It’s nice, really." We ordered our drinks, and then she asked, "So how long have you been with the dating service? I just joined last month and I’ve gotten so many calls! A friend gave me a three-month trial for my twenty-seventh birthday." She rolled her eyes. "She thought I wasn’t getting out enough after my divorce."
"I’ve been with them for three years now," I said. "I’m really one of those professionals with no time for the bar scene."
"I can appreciate that," Jackie replied. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of Max Menthol 120’s. "You know I smoke, right? Joe, I want you to be completely honest here. I smoke, and I enjoy it. I know you’ve said it isn’t a problem, but that’s what the last two guys said, too, and it was. I can always tell by the way they look at me when I smoke." I reached into my pocket for a lighter. "Do you smoke?" she asked, leaning forward to receive the light I offered.
"I enjoy an occasional cigar, but I’m not a regular smoker," I honestly answered. "It’s not a problem for me that you do, though." Boy, was that an understatement!
"Then you’re just a gentleman," she smiled. "Cigars, huh? I’ve always wanted to try one, but I haven’t ever really gotten the nerve and I don’t know where to start," she said, then rearranged herself on her chair, taking a slow, even drag, and turning her head to the side to exhale. A thick, creamy cloud dissipated almost immediately scattered by the light evening breeze.
"Well, if you think that you’ll ever get the nerve, give me a yell, and I’ll indoctrinate you," I grinned.
This time, her smile was a heart-stopper. "I’m sure I’ll get the nerve sometime." Our conversation wandered pleasantly. I told her that I was a computer systems manager for a ticket agency, and she said that she was a graphic artist who spent more time supervising three other artists than actually doing her own art. "It’s one of the bigger ad agencies here. I miss doing the art work, but the promotion was too good to pass up," she explained. "I don’t have anywhere near the free time I had before it." I agreed, knowing exactly what she was going through.
"So what do you do with what little free time you have?"
Jackie removed another cigarette. "I like to travel—get away for the weekend—thank you," she said, as I lit it. Jackie took a french-inhale and my world stopped. She took my silence as a cue to go on. "I also like listening to music, and going to concerts." She exhaled, again distorted by the breeze. I hoped I’d get to see her smoke indoors. "My favorite artist is going to be in town next week," she sighed. "But it’s sold out, and I was out of town on business while tickets were on sale." I asked her who her favorite artist was. "Sarah McLachlan. I just love her voice."
Fate had certainly smiled on me. "Oh, I can get you a couple of tickets for that, no problem." She looked at me as if I was crazy. "One good thing about being management at a ticket agency; I can get into damn near any concert or sporting event in town."
"Do you like Sarah?" she asked, excitedly. I said yes, in fact, I was a big music fan in general. "Well, then I guess we’ve made another date for next Friday night." she said, smiling at her good fortune. "I mean, the least I can do is to take you if you’re getting the tickets, right?" She took a long drag and tossed her head back for the exhale. She could take me anywhere.
She picked me up in her car Friday night. We were just going to the concert together; after all, we had just met. She looked great in a jacket and tight jeans that showed exactly what a body she had. It was time to pray, to pray that I wouldn’t either wake up or fuck up. "Heya!" she said, giving me a friendly wave at my door and she was bouncing on her feet. Her smile was dazzling. "Ready?" I shut the door and off we went. At the show, once we had found our seats, I asked her if she wanted anything to drink. She said yes, and she got up to go with me. Once in the hall, she lit a Max, not waiting for my lighter. "If you wait for me, I’ll go stand in line with you," Jackie offered. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, and she did not disappoint. She held the long white cigarette between her index and middle fingers, parallel to the floor, ready for the next drag. To keep from blowing smoke in my face, she’d always turn to the side to exhale. This gave me a profile view of each delicious, long exhale. A thick white cloud would billow from her lips. It was over too quick, or not quick enough. I discreetly rearranged my jeans and we headed to the drink stand.
Between acts, I was treated to another performance. It was obvious that Jackie enjoyed smoking, but it was also obvious that she was in a hurry. She dropped me off at my place afterwards. "Joe, thank you so much. I really had a good time tonight," she said, unleashing her killer smile. "Any time you want somebody to go to a show or something, give me a call, okay?" She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. She must have seen the surprise on my face. "Hell, just call me next week," she said. "We’ll do something." She grinned, adding impishly, "—If you want."
Our next date was the following Saturday. We went out to a busy, casual Italian restaurant. "So, how have you been this week?"
"Oh, we’re upgrading our system. It’s been a series of 14 hour days for me," I said. "When we’re done, sometime next week, I’ll get comp time—and a bonus. You like hockey?"
"Yeah. It’s a fun game to watch. I like baseball, too," Jackie said. "You sounded tired when you called. Sorry I wasn’t in. I was out having coffee with another guy from the service." She shrugged. "Do you get many calls from them? It seems like I’ve got a message on my phone every other day telling me that there’s another guy interested in meeting me. You must get lots of calls, too."
"Not really. Women always seem to get more interest than guys do. The ratio is like 1.5-to-1, men to women at this service," I shrugged. "It’s better than most. And I’m not exactly a prime catch. Too much computer, too much sports—too bachelor."
"Yeah, but how many guys know the Latin names for the Road Runner?" she laughed. "That’s the other thing I like to do in my time off. I like to laugh. And you’re good for that." She removed a single, long, white cigarette, and waited. I lit it for her. "Not to mention that you’re a gentleman." She exhaled slowly this time, obviously savoring the smoke. We chatted amiably for a while, my mind more occupied with the lazy exhales she sent into the air, her head tilted back. She finished her cigarette with a quick nostril exhale before swallowing and exhaling deliberately. I asked her if she liked classical music. "Yeah, I do. Why? Do you have some spare symphony tickets you’d like to use?" She batted her eyes at me, making my heart dance in time.
"Next Friday at seven-thirty. Orchestra seats. I bought a subscription when the tickets went on sale," I said. "It’s one of my favorite ways to unwind, and the symphony here is really, really good." She nodded in agreement. "Want to make it an evening, Jackie? We could have dinner before. There are lots of small restaurants right around the symphony hall." I don’t remember very much about that evening after she smiled and enthusiastically said, "Sure!" The only thing I know is that next week took forever to pass.
The following Friday, I stopped by her apartment to pick her up for our dinner date. She buzzed me in and told me her door was open for me. I walked into her life, the sweet smell of smoke wafting from her bedroom. "I’ll be out in a couple of minutes!" she yelled from behind the closed door. I was thoroughly unprepared for what was next. Jackie peeked around the corner. "Joe, I’ve been dying to get dressed up and I figured that the symphony was the best occasion I was going to have for a while…" She stepped out in a black evening dress that made her look incredible. Gorgeous, elegant, classy, and inviting, not teasing, all without being daring. A hint of cleavage showed; very demure compared to some of the outfits I’d seen at the symphony. Jackie did a quick model’s turn, the dress crisply following, raising to show a bit of calf before settling again. I felt naked in my "formal suit" compared to her. "You clean up very nicely," she impishly smiled. She gave me a peck on the cheek, and it was all I could do to maintain my composure.
The shaky composure I had managed to hold onto during the ride to the restaurant disappeared as we were seated. Jackie took out a gold cigarette case and pulled out a More Menthol. I lit it, trying to ignore my flaring hormones and not drool on her. She smiled again, and I got harder. She was taking long, slow drags, holding the smoke, exhaling mostly through her nostrils. She looked so—effortlessly stunning that I had a difficult time thinking about anything other than the uncomfortable feeling in my crotch, and of things that would alleviate that uncomfortable feeling. Dinner? Jackie smoked another More after dinner. What did we have to eat? I really don’t remember. The concert? She smoked one of the long, brown cigarettes before the symphony started, one during intermission, and one outside the symphony hall while we waited for the valet to bring the car afterwards. Oh, you want to know what the program was? Can’t tell you. Somehow, I managed to maintain enough control to avoid doing anything stupid.
This abruptly ended two weeks later. We went to her company’s Halloween party. Jackie was dressed as a flapper, and I wore my authentic baseball uniform (from a fantasy spring training camp.) I didn’t have a place for my lighter—that was a mistake. The first thing Jackie did when she got there was to pull out her gold cigarette case and put a Virginia Slim 120 into an eight-inch holder. Three flames popped around her; she chose one, took a quick drag, posing with the holder held between her thumb and forefinger, then exhaled directly skyward looking just like a textbook picture of a flapper. Her eyes sparkled; she was having fun playing her role. Me? I adjusted my crotch, and was happy that I had not worn the cup that went with the uniform. I spent a lot of time that night adjusting my crotch, always near the gorgeous, exotic redhead, who happily displayed her holder and 1920’s smoking style to all. By the end of the night, I thought my nuts were going to burst. Jackie had unknowingly driven me to the point where all I could think about was jumping her. Unlike the restaurant, I had very little control over whether it was obvious or not.
I drove her back to her house after the party. As I shut off the car, she settled herself in the passenger seat. "Jackie—" I began, about to violate the number one rule for getting laid—don’t ever beg.
"Joe, you wanna come in for a nightcap?" she blurted out. I quickly accepted, and I felt the air around us change. It was on her mind, too. She let us in to her apartment. "Did you have a good time tonight?"
Somehow, I kept from saying, "It was wonderful watching you smoke a 120 in a holder all night cause it drives me crazy-horny," and answered with a polite, "Yeah—I had a really good time." Even if I panted a little while saying it. Jackie went to her kitchen and asked me what I wanted. Sooner or later, I was going to slip in answering the loaded questions. She came out with our drinks and lit a cigarette herself, taking a nervous drag. I watched her. We sat on opposite sides of her sofa. It was strange; we left as much space as possible between us, but our feelings and desires hadn’t changed.
She gave a soft laugh. "Y’know, you made me feel really—special tonight."
"How so?"
Jackie took a deep draw from the Virginia Slim 120, closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose and mouth. "I—It’s sort of weird. In a good way. I mean, like the way you looked at me all night," she smiled. "Like I was the only woman in the room." She had been the only woman in the room—with a 120 in a holder, smoking in such an unbelievably fetching manner. "I liked it when you’d watch me play at being the flapper with the holder and all… It made me feel… well, you may think this sounds funny, but it made me feel sexy." She tossed her red curls, and took another drag, slowly letting the smoke flow out through her nose and mouth. "You know how I told you I could tell what a guy thought about my smoking by the way he looked at me?" I nodded, enraptured as she french-inhaled her next drag, then exhaled before continuing. "I couldn’t figure it out at first with you… but the way you look at me sometimes when I smoke… It makes me feel sooo sexy," she panted.
"You are," I hoarsely said, any self-control hopelessly gone at that point. Her eyes went wide. Jackie cut her next drag short, put her cigarette out, then turned to me, green eyes on fire, and we fell into each other. Kissing frantically, rubbing each other through our clothes, I raised her leg, hooking her knee over mine. She placed my free hand under her dress, squarely over her womanhood, hot and moist through her panties, looking at me with an urgency that needed no words.
We lay in her bed, naked, the sweat cooling, our breathing having returned to normal. "So tell me, do you like to watch me smoke?" she asked, idly rubbing my chest. I said yes because there was no point in hiding anything now. My red headed pixie smiled and kissed me. "You think it makes me look sexy," she said, a pleased smile on her face. "You know, that’s why I started. I thought it made me look sexier, because everybody thought I was some untouchable little china doll."
"When did you start smoking?"
"In college. Started with Marlboro Lights. A friend of mine smoked Virginia Slims Lights Menthol, so I wound up switching to menthol. The Virginia Slims were, well, what the cool girls smoked."
"Did it work?"
Jackie laughed. "You mean did I start getting hit on? Yes. And that was what I wanted." The conversation continued, ending up with me revealing my fascination with women who smoked long cigarettes or who used holders. "So that’s why you were so obviously hot for me tonight? I mean, you did a pretty good job of hiding it—I had no idea you were watching me smoke my Maxes." She lit one of the long white cigarettes. I could hear her draw the smoke in, and she exhaled through her mouth with a soft, "ffff." "We’ve been talking about smoking so much, I decided to have one—wow." She looked at my suddenly-awakening cock with surprise. "If I want you, I guess I know how to get you," she smiled. "So what did you like me smoking the most?"
"That’s an odd question," I wondered aloud.
"It’s sort of an odd situation with you and me and smoking, Joe," she teased. Before I could react, she continued, "One that—interests me." Jackie kissed me with a little more hunger; her hand dropped lower on my body. "I smoke cigarettes other than Max Menthol from time to time just to change the taste. I figured that if you had a preference, I might smoke those a little more often," she grinned. "Since you like 120’s and that’s pretty much all I smoke, I think we’ve got some—common—interests," she grinned.
"Well, if you want to know—" Jackie took a deep drag, leaned back, and exhaled through her mouth and nose, interrupting my train of thought. She smiled, aware that she was turning me on. I forced myself to concentrate on the answer to her question. "You looked absolutely stunning with Mores and that dress at the symphony," I admitted.
"I smoked them because I thought the look fit the occasion," she admitted. "I used to smoke them regularly in college," Jackie said. "I thought they were so elegant and different. I also like the taste—it’s a nice change from Max, and they feel good when I exhale through my nose," she admitted. "I even like the More regulars once in a while. I get tired of menthol for about a pack. Lots of times, I buy a pack of something to fit my mood or the occasion. Like, I smoke Capri 120’s or Eve 120’s when I’m feeling like a real girly-girl. They’re so—cute and feminine."
The images that came to my mind sent more blood south. "What’s most sexy about you is the way you handle and exhale—I like watching you french-inhale, and the slow exhales through the nose and mouth." She demonstrated everything for me with a twinkle in her eye, and I gave an involuntary gasp of arousal.
Jackie put the cigarette out. "So it’s OK if I don’t smoke Virginia Slims 120’s a lot." I nodded. "I don’t really like the taste all that much, but they’re the only 120’s that fit in my holder," Jackie explained. "So, even though it really turns you on, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll save the holder for special occasions." I smiled at her, and gave her a brief kiss to let her know that was OK. "I like the look, too, Joe, but Halloween’s the only time I can really get away with it in public." She kissed me very wet and very deep, then stopped playing with my body. "Want some water?" she asked with a smile before leaving the room. I admired her body as she walked away. This was good. I had found a woman who enjoyed playing up to my fetish through a computer/video dating service. At that moment, life seemed very good. Little did I know she wasn’t finished with me yet.
I heard a lighter, then Jackie reappeared in the doorway, with her holder and another freshly-lit Virginia Slim 120. "I’m all out of Mores tonight, will you settle for this?" She took a drag and then did a long, long french inhale, before tilting her head back and exhaling through her mouth. Her wonderful smile registered on my brain after I had resumed breathing. Standing at the foot of the bed, Jackie took another drag and french-inhale. She held the exhale for a few seconds, then eased her chest forward, sending a line of smoke into the air over my body. My erection was getting fuller by the second. "Wow," she said, watching it grow untouched. She rubbed it a couple of times, then picked up an ashtray before climbing onto the bed. "I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, don’t you?" She smiled, a sensual one. Her next drag was french-inhaled as well, the exhale slow, through her lips. Her free hand was sliding along my length, and I started to make noises. Jackie stopped all of a sudden. I looked at her with puzzlement, and then wonder. She slid her legs over my body, positioned herself over my erection and sat. We both moaned—loudly. Then Jackie took a deep, deep, drag, and started to french-inhale. I bucked mightily at her, and her exhale was less than glamorous but it didn’t matter because I was thrusting up at her while she smoked with me inside of her and it was the most—incredible---THING--
I’d never had an orgasm that intense. It was the first of many like that. Jackie enjoys riding me while she smokes. She says it makes me feel even better inside her. Now that she knows just how to communicate her desire to me, she prefers smoking demonstratively with snap and french inhales, slow nasal and oral exhales instead of ripping off my clothes or flirting with me in a physical way. The last time we went to the symphony, she put on such a display before and after, when we went out for "drinks," that we almost wound up doing it in the car. Tomorrow’s my birthday, and she says she is going to be my fetish fantasy woman for the whole night. I can’t wait, and neither can she. She bought a couple of cigars for the occasion.