It was a Saturday night like most Saturday nights. Hanging out at the local nightspot playing pinball and tossing darts. Along with a decent amount of beer. As usual, I would scan the room from time to time, seeing if I could spot any interesting smokers. There hadn’t been anybody worth mentioning; I’m pretty picky about what’s interesting, and there were a lot of youngsters in the crowd tonight, none with anything other than the barest touch of style. During one such look around, I thought I saw a somewhat familiar face headed away from the room. I left my dart game and pursued. Thanks to a new throng of people in the doorway I caught up with the person. "Excuse me--Sherri?"
She spun around and looked at me with surprise that quickly turned to a smile of recognition. "Doug!!! How are you!" She gave me a quick hug. "I haven’t seen you since--my farewell lunch at my old job!" That had been almost six years ago. She looked almost the same; still a tall, slender, beautiful blonde with blue eyes. I had been working as a programmer in the lab where she was a research assistant; we wound up spending a lot of time together, and became friends over the two or so years. Despite my fervent wishes that we could be more, we never even came close to approaching that line. I even set her up with one of my friends. "You still look good," she cheerily said.
"As do you," I sincerely noted. "But I guess I’d better let you get back to your friends."
Sherri grinned. "Oh--well, actually, it was a date. But he got beeped and had to go back to work. I was on my way home," she sheepishly admitted. "Wanna join me for a drink? I don’t have any other plans for tonight." I quickly grabbed my darts and found a table for us. I asked her about what she had been doing the last five years. No, she still wasn’t married, her dog was fine, she had gone back to school to work on her master’s... My life hadn’t been nearly as interesting.
I offered to buy another round, and Sherri accepted. When I got back to the table, I did a double-take. Between her slender fingers was a long, white cigarette with smoke curling from the end. I quickly checked to make sure I was at the right table. Sherri didn’t smoke. At least not the one I knew. I sat down. "When did you start smoking?" I asked in disbelief.
At that moment, she took an easy, relaxed draw, lifted her head and exhaled a steady, fairly thick stream of smoke into the air after a pause. It was not the actions of a social smoker. Sherri replied, "About three years ago. Right after I decided that the good little Catholic girl bit wasn’t doing me any good." She took another drag, quickly rolling a smoke ball with her tongue. She turned her head to the side and exhaled casually through pursed lips. I remembered how badly I had wanted her six years ago. It was much worse now. "I needed a bad habit to shock my parents out of treating me like a little girl--after all, I was thirty. And I was in smoky nightclubs a lot any more, dating guys who didn’t always want dinner and a movie. This seemed to be the one that made sense." Sherri shrugged. "I don’t smoke a whole lot--a carton usually lasts me almost a month." I nodded, enthralled, excited, and trying not to show it. After all, we were friends.
We continued chatting pleasantly and had a couple more drinks. She didn’t smoke again, much to my disappointment, but the ashtray indicated that she smoked Virginia Slims 120’s. We were talking about old times, and her lack of success at finding the right guy. Sherri said, "Y’know, I made a pass at you once, but you missed it." My jaw dropped open. "Don’t be surprised--you are cute."
"We talked about that and how it wouldn’t even come close to working, Sherri," I responded. We had, over lunch one day, discussed what would happen if we were to go out with each other. Her family wouldn’t have dealt with it very well, and I didn’t think I was the right type of guy for Sherri. That hypothetical discussion had put to rest the possibility of her and I. Or so I had thought.
"Well, then I don’t know what you call it when a lady talks to you about ‘the urge’ and what you do about it," she giggled. "I was sooo embarrassed, too. You didn’t even give a hint that you knew what I was talking about. Never mind that it was the sort of thing that Catholic girls aren’t supposed to even think about, let alone experience." I blushed, but Sherri looked at me. "However, Doug, I do want to say that I have ‘the urge’ right now." I was speechless. My mind reeled under the meaning of the words, and I immediately started looking for a way out. We were friends. "I have rubbers. Love and sex in the nineties, y’know," she quietly said. I looked at her face, into her blue eyes, and had a flashback of the way she smoked. "I have always thought that it would be fun, but I was just too... shy and scared before. It’s the new me," Sherri finished, looking at me.
Talk about your offers you can’t refuse. "Your place or mine?" I asked, mouth suddenly dry. Then I laughed. "In thirty-five years, that’s the first time I’ve ever said that. Thanks, Sherri. Now I’m officially a lech." She laughed with me as she stood up and took my hand. We left the club in a relaxed hurry, found her car and went to her place. "Nice place," was all I could get out before Sherri was kissing me, grinding at me, wrapping herself around me. I got very hard, very fast and we barely made it to the bedroom. I climbed on top of Sherri as soon as I could and entered her. She was very wet and moaned deliciously at the first stroke, arching her back to meet me. I slid in and out of her, almost coming all the way out before going all the way back in, burying myself completely inside.
Sherri moaned with each movement I made, gasping, "Ohh yes... ohhh... Doug.... like that... more... ohhh... ohhhhh... OHHHH..." Her moans got louder, and I began to pump faster and harder, and soon we were fucking with reckless abandon, grunting, gasping, sweating, and thrusting at each other with crazed ardor. She came, I came, and we moaned together, panting, trying to catch our breath, hanging on to each other for dear life. A long-denied fantasy had been filled. For both of us.
After a while, she sat up, and pulled a cigarette from her purse. "I like one afterwards. It just seems so--right." The lighter clicked on, and I watched the tip of her Virginia Slim 120 burst into flame. She dragged silently, finally exhaling a line of smoke towards the foot of the bed. "Doug, why did we wait so long?"
"I don’t know. Maybe--" She cut off my thought as she re-inhaled a thick ball of smoke before raising her chin to exhale. So naturally, casually, stylish. "Maybe we weren’t ready." The moon came out from behind a cloud, and I watched her smoke in silhouette, each draw graceful and varied, each exhale unhurried and smooth. I was mesmerized and energized by the spectacle. I was also ready again by the time she finished. Sherri turned to look at me. "I want to if you do," she panted. My answer was twitching and bobbing in the moonlight.
Sunday morning in a strange bed is always a curious time. I looked at the sleeping woman next to me, remembering all the thrills she had given me. There was a smile on Sherri’s face. I hoped I had reciprocated. I was still in her bed, naked, when she woke up. "Ohh!! Hi!" she smiled and kissed me. "It was everything I expected... and more," she purred. "God, you’ve got some stamina!" I blushed; it’s always difficult to know how to respond. Sherri probably sensed my discomfort and changed the subject. "Can you fix breakfast? Or do you want to go out?" She laughed. "One thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m still not a very good cook, and microwave breakfasts are terrible." I said that going out would be fine; but pointed out that it would be lunch before we were ready. I definitely needed a shower.
As it turned out, we took a shower together. Which turned into fondling and kissing and stroking and masturbation and... I was inside of her for the third time in the last ten or so hours. No rubber this time, lust overcoming sense, the fact that the water was turning cool, and that she had to lean over and do it doggy-style. We finally wore each other out.
We went out for breakfast, then she dropped me off at my place. As I got out of her car, I looked at her and said, "I suppose I really need to call you for a date after last night. We kind of got the order wrong."
Much to my surprise, Sherri looked out at me and replied, "You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was horny, you were horny--we both had a lot of fun. Like I said, this is the new me." She started to pull away, then stopped. "Besides," she called back, "we’ve already dated. It was just a long time ago and I’m just acting on it right now. You certainly bought me enough lunches." And away she went. My phone rang forty-five minutes later. "You’re crazy, you know," she giggled. "In answer to the question you left on my answering machine, yes, I would love to go out with you. Why don’t you pick me up here Friday around seven and we’ll do something." She paused. "Oh, dinner’s fine, but not a movie, OK Doug?" A sweet, melodious giggle came over the phone.
Friday came, and I showed up a little early for our evening of dinner and dancing. Sherri was almost ready as she answered the door. "I just need to put on some sensible shoes and I’ll--" The phone rang. "Oh, hi Mom. No. Well, I’ve been kind of busy. No, I haven’t been too busy to call--" She rolled her eyes and the next five minutes passed without a word from her. She reached into her purse, pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims 120’s, and lit one. Her first full drag took several seconds, and she exhaled a long, flowing stream of smoke. "Mom. Ummm... I have a date tonight and I have to get--" She sighed, and took another drag, exhaling skyward with her head tilted back. A very narrow stream slowly went into the air. "No, it’s not that nice doctor. No, you don’t know him. He’s a friend from work--" Her exasperation showed in her next puff; it was short, hard, and her lips popped off the filter. A few wisps of smoke came through her nose, and she turned her head aside, rapidly exhaling the rest. And the mostly one-sided conversation continued. "Yes, he’s nice. Yes, mother, I’m sure." Sherri sat down and crossed her legs, leaning back in the chair. "No, mom, I don’t know how much he makes. I’m going out for dinner, not to get married." Sherri took a long, long pull from her Virginia Slim 120, held vertically, near the filter, and opened her mouth. A thick smoke ball rolled out, and she closed her mouth. Everything slowed down for me. She began a nasal exhale, then stopped, and with slightly narrowed eyes, effortlessly, silently, blew. The smoke drifted from her lips, backlit by the setting sun, streaming, then curling, wafting into the air, perfectly illuminated by sunbeams. She exhaled for an eternity, it seemed, and I was more than turned on. Her voice came back into focus. "--Goodbye, Mom. Yes, I know," she said, hanging up. Sherri took another long draw, exhaling again in the most deliberate, and unintentionally erotic fashion.
Before I could turn away, she looked at me. The bulge was prominent. I could see her nostrils flare, she took one last drag and an easy, fascinating, pursed-lip exhale before walking over to me. "Sorry about that," she said, within kissing distance. Her glance dropped momentarily. "Wow. Is that for me?" she asked, a slight growl in her throat. I nodded, unable to speak. Her hand grazed the front of my pants and she fell into me. We were kissing frantically, her hands reaching for my zipper, mine for her dress, then her bra. Not soon enough, we were naked; immediately thereafter, we were on her carpet, me thrusting downward, kissing, licking, nipping while she pumped reactively at me, grabbing my back, yelping into my shoulder, trying to keep our ecstasy a little less obvious to the neighbors. I gurgled, then drew a ragged breath before plunging into her, and my lower body tightened beyond belief for an instant. Sherri shrieked, and her nails dug into my back as we both came mightily. We never made it out of her door, finally calling for pizza at eleven that night. I knew it was over when Sherri lit a Virginia Slim 120, took a long draw, slowly exhaled with the most dreamy, sensual expression on her face, and I couldn’t respond. We finally fell asleep tangled in each other, exhausted.
The official date finally happened the next week. Sherri and I met at the restaurant for dinner, forcing us to avoid jumping each other. When two people are physically attracted to each other in the extreme and the opportunity presents itself, plans get changed, thoughts vanish, and verbal communication becomes impossible. All of those things get lost in the need. In the relaxed setting of the restaurant, I discovered that she was a magnificent smoker. Sherri’s draws and exhales were never hurried, and she held the long white cigarette near the filter between her index and middle fingers. Her eyes would lose a little bit of focus when she exhaled, always tilting her head slightly upwards before releasing a careful, long stream of smoke through her lips. She seemed to fully enjoy the act; it was a special thing to her, not something to be rushed or done in haste. Our discussion through the meal meandered pleasantly, frequently dancing on the edge of risqué. We inspired the urge in each other, and there was nothing we could do about it, short of satisfying it.
Afterwards, we went dancing at a small, smoky nightclub. The first thing Sherri did was to light up another Virginia Slim 120. I went to get our drinks. Standing at the bar gave me a good profile angle again. She was leaning back, legs crossed, the cigarette held high and vertically between puffs, displaying its length. She would bring it to her lips, draw, then roll a ball of smoke out with her tongue. There was a pause, then Sherri would raise her chin slightly and exhale casually. A fairly thick stream of smoke would dance across the table. I watched until she had finished smoking, even though the drinks were ready. I wanted her again. As fate would have it, the band started a slow song as I got back to our table, and she stood up, eyes partially closed, lips pouting. So we walked onto the floor, and put our arms around each other. She immediately noticed my arousal as it pressed against her. "Ohmigod," she whispered as she shuddered. "I just wet myself. I want you... now..."
The insane lust didn’t fade over time. We kept going out. For me, it wasn’t just Sherri’s smoking that I found alluring. That was proven beyond a doubt one night when she ran out. We were in a hurry to get back to my place, and it just wasn’t important enough for either of us to stop. She didn’t have her traditional post-sex cigarettes--neither of us were affected. I found that I didn’t miss watching her smoke. I was almost beginning to think it was unimportant, because Sherri turned me on when she smiled, when she talked, when she woke up, when she was sleepy... and the feeling seemed to be mutual. We were like teenagers, unable to keep our hands off each other.
One day, a few months into our relationship, she showed up early for a date. "My meeting was abbreviated, so I thought I’d just come straight over," she said after we had finished kissing. "You want to leave early?" I replied that was great by me, but I needed to stop by the manager’s office to drop something off. I told her I’d be right back, and headed across the apartment complex. When I got back, she was sitting at my computer with a strange expression. A half-smoked Virginia Slim 120 was in the ashtray. "Doug," she quietly said, "what’s a smoking fetish?" I stopped dead in my tracks. "I saw something called ‘Smoking from All Sides’ bookmarked in your web browser," she continued in the same quiet voice. "So I looked at it. There were all these links to pictures of women with cigarettes and cigars. Do you look at these pictures?"
What could I say? It had never occurred to me that she would use my web browser, which had happened to be running since I was working on a web page. My carelessness had gotten me caught. I admitted that I did. "So my smoking turns you on?" I nodded, beginning to see some hope here. "Is that why you never reacted to me before I started smoking?" I immediately denied it, but Sherri interrupted. "I knew that something had changed between us; I thought it was me. Now I find out that I’m some part of a fantasy of yours--"
"Now that’s not true!" I protested. "I don’t go out with fantasies for six months! Sherri--there’s so much more to you than your smoking--"
"But I don’t know that!!!" she snapped back. "Every woman wants to be appreciated for who she is, not for what she represents. And I have no way of telling that it is me, not my smoking you find so interesting. I mean, I want to believe you, but I don’t have anything else other than the circumstances to look at." She was quiet for a minute. "I don’t know if I can deal with that. If it were dirty pictures, I could deal with it. After all, you are a single, lusty guy. I just don’t know if I can handle the idea of you thinking of me as an outlet for your cigarette fantasies, instead of thinking of me as just Sherri." She shook her head. "I need to think about this, Doug, OK? I mean, I really need to think about it. Let’s just--cancel out for tonight."
I was shocked and damn near heartbroken. Every time I would start to try to explain, Sherri would shake her head no. So finally, frustrated at being unable to communicate, I acquiesced and let her walk out of my apartment, and possibly my life. I was back to where I had been six months ago. I walked over to my VCR tape cabinet, pulled out the smoking videos, and went to the wastebasket. My hand froze as I stood poised to throw them away. Next would be my smoking pictures, then the links on the web... But somehow, I just couldn’t do it. The idea of spending several long evenings alone again, looking for someone who smoked with class, when several were a remote control or mouse click away... Still, for Sherri, I would try. Later that night, I called her and told her that I would throw all those things away for her.
"Doug, that’s not the point," she responded. "First of all, if it’s truly a fetish, throwing those things won’t do any good. You’ll eventually wind up getting replacements. I know this." She was working on her master’s in Psychology. "But it has to do with whether you want me because I smoke, or because you like me. Is the attraction fetish-driven? If so, then I don’t think it’s in my best interests to keep this up. It was fun while it lasted, and I really like you. I just don’t know if you like me in the same way." She hung up.
I was single again.