There she was, standing along the wall, a long cigarette between her fingers—a Saratoga as I could see—taking her second or third drag, and exhaling a long stream of smoke with her head tilted slightly upward. I was instantly in lust. She had thick, slightly curly blonde hair to just below her shoulders, and although not model-gorgeous (or even the best-looking woman in the room) she had my clandestine attention. I’d be masturbating over images of this woman for many nights to come. Far be from me to actually approach her; she was too pretty, too sexy-to-me. I’d make an absolute drooling fool of myself. Besides, I’d never seen her before, and probably would never see her again.
I was wrong. Three nights later, I was hanging out at different nightclub, listening to another band, and she was there, smoking More Light 100’s. I noted the brand change, as any good smoking fetisher would, and watched her. Her smoking wasn’t the perfect picture of elegance I had always fantasized about, her exhales were a little too hurried, and she wasn’t quite—dainty enough with the way she handled the cigarette, but at least she didn’t do the truck driver pinch, and she picked interesting brands to smoke, which was in and of itself becoming a rarity. More fantasies and masturbation for another few days, until my friends had their regular Wednesday night jam session at my local bar. I saw her again, this time, smoking regular More 120s.
Three times in one week, smoking different fetish-noteworthy brands each time, and I had started seeing her in my daydreams, along with every night—sometimes twice. This woman was driving me crazy. During a break, I was trying to ignore her existence, so that I didn’t appear as distracted as I was while I was talking with my best friend. “Oh, hey Laura!” I heard him say as I felt someone approach from the rear, and suddenly, I was face to face with the woman of my fevered, fetish-driven dreams. “Laura, this is my buddy from college, Dean.”
“HI Dean!” she smiled, “I’m Laura.” Cheerful, and definitely not shy. “I’m Johnny Lee’s cousin, and I just moved here, been going around to places he’s told me about.” Johnny Lee was another local musician, a pretty easygoing good guy. So, an introduction to the goddess fell into my lap. And I did nothing with it.
But we kept running into each other, and she was usually smoking Mores, more or less evenly split between the beige 100’s and the brown 120s. I was in love. She started coming over and talking to me, and I usually wound up watching her smoke. After a while though, it became easier to have a conversation, because I took her smoking sexy cigarettes for granted. One night however, she pulled out a Virginia Slim 120, and asked if I had a light. “When did you start smoking those?” I asked after providing the polite service.
“Oh I love Virginia Slims!” she said. “I think the long ones are so long and classy!”
“There are longer cigarettes out there,” I noted, the conversation quickening my pulse. “Nat Sherman makes six and a half inch long cigarettes… And they come in colors,” I said, simultaneously dreaming of seeing her smoke the ultimate fetish cigarette.
“No way!” she smiled. “Do they come in blue?” I told her yes, and she immediately asked where she could get some.
“I’ll bring a box next time I’m out, and you can try one,” I pleasantly said. Sure enough, I ran into her a week later. She had forgotten my offer, but I hadn’t. Laura squeaked with joy and put out her Virginia Slim Light 100, replacing it with a blue Fantasia 164. “This is so cool! Can I have the box? I’ll pay ya!”
“Nah, that’s OK,” I casually said. “You look like you’re having a lot of fun with that.” She leaned to me and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.
I watched her dance around the bar waving her ultra-long cigarette all night. She chose a green one for her second, and final, cigarette of the night, giving me another kiss and hug at closing time.
I didn’t see Laura after that; it was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. Johnny Lee had gone on tour as the opening act for a national artist, which was a great break for Johnny, but left me with no link to Laura. I mourned the loss of my real life smoking fetish girl who had loved smoking extra-long cigarettes because they were “classy” and resumed watching at my usual haunts for the rare 120 sighting.
About three months later, I went out to a local concert hall to hear one of my favorite bands in a very intimate setting. I had managed to get the band to autograph my collection of their albums at the first break; the lead singer even bought me a drink for being such a loyal supporter. I put the albums in the trunk of my car after the band had started their next set, and when I came back in, there was a blonde woman sitting at the bar where I had been. Since my drink was still there, I approached, and was just in time to see her light a Marlboro Light 100 and take a drag. I stopped in my tracks as I recognized the style as belonging to the woman whose image had given me many happy, albeit solitary, late-night endings.
I scurried to her side, wondering if it was really her, and she sensed my approach, turning quickly on the bar stool as she began to apologize, “Am I in your—Dean!”
Laura hopped off the stool and gave me a big hug. “It’s been so long!”
“I’m happy to see you too! What’s been up with you?”
She dragged on her cigarette and replied, “I was kinda hopin’ I’d see Johnny here. I locked myself out—with my purse and car keys at his place.” I offered her my seat, and then asked her what she’d been doing. “I lost my roommate here, so I had to go back home, but I came back as soon as I could. Johnny’s got an empty room—his old lady left him,” she said. “Three months in Hicksville after being here is like a year on another planet.” She looked at me and grinned. “Y’know how a Hicksville chick drinks beer?” I shook my head. Laura reached behind her head, grabbed her neck, and pushed her head down, forcing her mouth and lips over the neck of the bottle. She then sat up with the top third of the bottle in her mouth, before pushing her head back down to set the bottle back onto the bar. My dick jumped as her eyes sparkled and she giggled. Laura looked at the pack of Marlboro Lights on the bar, which was empty. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those really long blue cigarettes on you?”
“If I had known you were going to be here, I would have,” I half-truthfully replied. My dick jumped again—it was one of my favorite memories of Laura to jerk off to.
Laura sighed unhappily and said, “I guess I’ll have to get Marlboro Lights from the machine.”
“I could always take you to the gas station a few blocks away,” I immediately offered.
“Really?” Laura eagerly asked. I said sure. “Oh thank you!” she enthused, hugging me tightly again, and we left. “They have no sense for anything with style or class back home. I haven’t had anything that isn’t a Marlboro since I left here. I think I’m gonna get some Mores,” she bubbled as we walked into the mini-mart. “I haven’t had one of those in months. They don’t sell them anywhere back home, and I think they’re so classy-looking and cool.” Sure enough, she bought a pack of More Regulars. “I think the lights are cute, too, but I want the longer ones—no girl in Hicksville would ever think of smoking one of these. It’s too different,” said Laura as she lit one outside the store. “Do you mind waiting? I don’t want to smoke up your nice car.”
I assured her that it was no problem. I’ll wait an hour if it means I get to watch you smoke Mores. Fresh fantasy material for tonight’s jerk-off session. Laura took a long, long drag and held the smoke, with an expression of supreme enjoyment. “So do you live around here?” she asked as she completed a long, flowing oral exhale, holding the More near the filter so it looked even longer.
“Ummm…” I was aroused, and subsequently distracted. “…no. I actually live across the street from the club where we first met.”
“Oh! That’s why I saw you there all the time!” We talked like that until she had finished her More. I scrambled to be gentlemanly and open the car door for her, but only succeeded in causing an awkward collision, putting Laura off-balance. I grabbed her to keep her from falling, while she put her arms around me, and she bumped into my partial erection as she recovered her footing. “Umm… Where would you like me to take you?” I asked, forgetting that she was in my arms.
“Where do you want to take me?” was her reply. She let her hand drop to my bulge, and gently rested it there. “I can’t go back to Johnny’s and I don’t know where he is,” she huskily said. “He doesn’t have a gig tonight, so he could be anywhere.”
My dick continued its steady progress to full erection. “Do you want to go for another drink somewhere?” Her hand was lightly pressing against my bulge, her eyes were telling me that it was intentional, and I still didn’t have enough nerve to ask her to my place or tell her that I wanted to fuck her.
“Sure,” she drawled, briefly glancing downward to her hand. “How about you grab a six-pack from here and we go across the street from the place we met?” Laura gave my bulge a gentle squeeze of intent. Her eyes closed and she leaned into me. “Mmmmmm…” she purred after we kissed. “Are you gonna welcome me back to the big city?”
Less than an hour later, I was thrusting regularly at Laura, making her grunt happily. Her legs were spread wide in the air to give my rigid dick unfettered access to her pussy. “Uhhh… Oh shit… Oh Laura… I’m g-g-gonna… gonna…”
“Ohhh… Baby… Yeahhhhh…” she gasped in encouragement, and I came, filling the rubber I had insisted on wearing.
“Ohhhh baby… That was nice, Dean,” Laura cooed after we had separated. “I like the way you do that.”
“Don’t they know how to show a lady a good time in bed back home?” I asked as she sat up; then nuzzled her neck, making her shiver and sigh dreamily.
“They don’t—” She gasped as I lightly flicked a nipple with a fingernail. “—do things like that. Hicksville guys fuck straight up an’ down, hard as they can, as long as they can—which usually ain’t very long. Then they roll off ya an’ fall asleep.” I wrapped my arm around her waist as she reached for her cigarettes, and began to play with her clit. Laura gave a jerk of surprise and yelped, “Oh!”
“Wait on that cigarette a while,” I whispered, kissing her neck.
She had arched her back, spreading her legs a little wider, and my playing became more insistent. “Nooo… st-o-o-o-p,” she moaned in feeble protest, but her hips had started moving. “What are youuuu dooooo-innnnnng?” I told her that she deserved some fun, too. Laura moaned again, and made a weak attempt to move away, but her legs had lost their strength and she leaned more heavily against me, which caused her thighs to spread even wider, giving my hand as much room as I needed.
“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” I purred, now rubbing her clit in slow, continuous circles with light, steady pressure. “Welcome to the big city.”
“Ohhhh-Ohhhh-ohhhhh…” Laura’s body was thrusting rhythmically at my hand, her face had turned red, and she waved her arms spastically—I could see that Laura was on a short ride to orgasm. She got louder, and redder, and louder, and then she wailed, with her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, and her back arched as much as it could without any legs to support it. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she sang as she came, pausing occasionally to take a gasping breath before crying her ecstasy some more. Laura melted against me with a loud groan, whimpering, “Ohhh… ohhh… ohhh… ohhh…” for a little while longer. Her body was slack, and the only thing that moved was her heaving chest. She stirred, struggling to sit up on her own, eventually succeeding. “Whaaaat the fuuuuck did you doooo to me?”
“Didn’t the guys back home ever play with your pussy?” I asked, puzzled. I’d never met a girl who had never had an orgasm before.
“Only long enough to get your clothes off and your legs spread,” she answered without hesitation. “Never felt anything like that for that long. It laaaaaasted and laaaaaasted…” Her eyes rolled, and she drew a sharp breath. “And I still feel it—kinda.” Laura reached for the red pack on the nightstand, extracted a More, and lit it, taking a big long drag, opening her mouth wide to suck the escaping smoke back in. I watched her swallow the smoke, and she leisurely tilted her head back, slowly releasing a long stream of smoke through pursed lips after a couple of seconds. A departure from her normal smoking style, it was absolute smoking fetish poetry. And I was affected. “Ohhhh, this feels so good after that.” She took another long, slow drag, same open-mouth inhale, and the same delayed, leisurely, elegant, raised-chin oral exhale.
My refractory period was over, but Laura was still lost in her luxurious post-orgasm smoke, so all I could do was to watch, and grow harder and harder. She crushed the cigarette out, her eyes narrowed, and whatever she was thinking was interrupted, because I immediately pulled her to the bed, positioned her on her side, raised one leg, and pushed into her. Laura sighed, the sweetest, most erotic sound I’d ever heard in my life, as my hips started moving, pulling my cock almost all the way out before pushing myself in as far as I could go. She would moan softly in rhythm with each steady stroke, getting wetter by the second. I clapped my free hand over her clit and as soon as I wobbled it, Laura snorted “HUH!”, her hips jerked, and her pussy quivered. So I kept wobbling it. Soon, Laura was crying loudly, but I could still hear the sloshing of her juices being stirred by my cock, and then she seemed to choke on a cry, and her pussy squeezed me mightily. Then she shuddered, and her body went stiff as a board. “AAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!”
As soon as Laura relaxed enough for me to move again, I resumed pumping at her, and she began to buck, going, “Uhhh… ohhh… uhhh… uhhh… AAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH!” screaming as she came again, and this contraction was strong enough to shoot my cock out of her pussy. She writhed on the bed, crying out constantly. Eventually, her orgasm subsided, and her leg went slack, she rolled on her back with her arms reaching towards me. I climbed on top of her and began to fuck her like the boys back home did, but now Laura was one long series of orgasms; all I had to do was move with my cock inside her to keep it going.
I slowed down my frenzied fucking because I felt my own orgasm approach, and began to give her slow, deep, powerful thrusts, trying to increase the sensation through my cock, grunting with each movement, growling into her ear, but she was screaming incoherently, and didn’t even hear my, “Ohhh… baby… Laura… Laura… LauraaaRRRRGGGHHHH!” The next thing I knew, we were wrapped up in each other, panting, and Laura was having constant aftershocks. After that… darkness.
The next morning, I woke up and bumped into her. “Mmmmmmmm,” she purred, reached out and grabbed me… and went back to sleep. A few hours later, Laura stirred. “Ohhhh… Shit… last night was… wow,” she softly husked in my ear. We kissed a little, but I was out of gas. “Time to get up, I guess,” she pouted, “but after that… I can understand.” The sexual tension was thick in the air as we had breakfast over minimal conversation, Laura giving me frequent “fuck-me-again” glances, and me returning, “I want to… but I’m fucked out.” At least until she lit her first More of the day. My cock responded, and we were back in the bedroom within ten minutes, me slow-fucking her to yet another orgasm, followed quickly by a weak, near-painful one of my own. Laura lit another More, naked, in my bed, smoking in her dreamy, post-coital way, and I stayed soft. It was over.
I drove her back to her cousin’s house, not sure of what to say, while she chattered on about how happy she was to be back in the city, and how her new job seemed like it was going to be promising… about anything but us, and what the last fifteen hours together had been like. Laura gave me a hot kiss before she got out of the car and waved, “See ya!” from Johnny’s door. I drove away, knowing that I wanted more, but I had no idea of how to get it.
Two weeks later, I was at my normal Wednesday hangout, listening to my friend’s band. About ten-thirty, I saw her coming into the room, and waved to get her attention. She immediately headed for me. Well, that’s a good sign. “Hey Laura,” I said as she sat next to me at the bar. The music instantly faded into unimportance. “How ya been?” I shifted uneasily on my bar stool, trying to put on my best cool act, which wasn’t very good.
“Great, Dean!” she enthused, and gave me a peck on the cheek, making my insides flutter crazily. “Been busy at the restaurant, pulling some extra shifts to earn some extra money. What have you been up to?”
“Waiting for a beautiful woman named Laura to cross my path,” I said, trying to be witty.
Her eyes fluttered and she smiled. “That was wonderful, Dean,” she throatily rejoined. Then in a lighter tone, she added, “Maybe sometime again?” She pulled out a Saratoga 120 and I lit it for her. “You’re such a gentleman,” she giggled. Hopelessly fetish-bound, I got hard while she smoked and began to shift uncomfortably in my chair. “Somethin’ the matter?” giggled Laura, but she glanced down before I could answer and saw the bulge. “Mmmmmm… maybe a lil’ later,” she seductively purred. “I just may take the lunch shift off tomorrow.”
That night, I ate her pussy. Not surprisingly, it was her first time and judging by her reaction, it was definitely not going to be her last—no matter who the guy was. “Fuck me like you did the last time,” she breathlessly panted as we were hastily rearranging ourselves. “Slow.” I’d freed her from the expectations set by her hometown experiences, and Laura was not a “fuck me harder” kind of gal with me. She locked her arms and legs around me as I sank into her, wet and slick from her just-concluded tongue-lashing. “Ohhh… oh Dean… ohhh… oh Dean…” she groaned in counterpoint to my long, slow thrusts, “you’re so good. Ohhh god you’re good!”
My dick began to sizzle and I started groaning loudly. “Yeah baby… yeah baby… yeah baby,” was Laura’s response, and she grabbed me more tightly. I shot into her forcefully, rubber forgotten, the pleasure of cumming obliterating my sense until she cried, “AAAUUUGGGHHHH!” right next to my ear. I felt her pussy go crazy around my dick and an enormous blob of cum shot from my cock into her. Laura raked my back with her nails as her orgasm intensified, and I didn’t notice until well after we’d finished. Although she had Thursday lunch off, I still had to go to work, and so we were done for the night after our first fuck of the evening. I walked out of my place the next morning after getting a sleepy-eyed smooch on the cheek. Laura looked incredibly sexy lying there, naked, with the dreamy expression of great sex on her face, but I just couldn’t stay home.
I didn’t see her for almost two months after that. I saw Johnny once, and he’d said that Laura had told him to tell me hi. I didn’t know if she’d found another guy, or if she was working and our paths didn’t cross—she worked weekends, while I worked weekdays. I started fantasizing about my smoking fetish girl again, but since I’d had her, fantasy rang hollow—and weak. I missed her and her sexy smoking, and I was beginning to feel like I would never see her again. It was kind of obvious that I wasn’t exactly her type—I was a mild-mannered city boy, and she was a little—wild. The one thing I could do with certainty was to make her cum—hard and often, and I reasoned that she’d found somebody else, somebody wilder, somebody else who could make her cum. Laura returned to her fantasy goddess position in my mind, and I went about my normal single guy life.
One thing about being predictable, and having regular hangouts; it makes you easy to find. On a Wednesday night at the usual place, I heard the voice that had filled my dreams call my name with excitement. “Dean!” I turned around to see Laura with a just-lit blue Fantasia 164. “Look what I got!” I reacted with a visceral tremble of excitement, seeing a favorite, very-recent fantasy in real life. She walked up to me and gave me a hug. “I finally found those super-long cigarettes you showed me!” she bubbled.
I don’t know what happened to my brain, but I was so enraptured by her with a blue 164 that I said exactly what was on my mind before the rest of my brain could inspect and edit it. “You look so hot!”
Laura pulled back from our hug and looked at me with surprise. “Really?” She took a drag with a quick french-inhale, and tilted her head all the way back to exhale, evoking an image of Bette Davis, only much more beautiful. “I didn’t feel like it—until you said that,” she grinned. “What’cha been doin’?” I told her nothing, just hanging out. “I’m happy I ran into you,” she resumed, bubbly as usual. “It’s been a crazy month. The restaurant’s doing great—but the manager is an idiot, so I’ve been working double shifts, no days off… the owner finally fired him today. It was either him or the staff was going to quit. So I’m out celebrating! Buy me a drink?”
Whatever you want, Fantasia 164 sex symbol of mine. It was more than a single drink; I happily paid through the night until bar close, and I was rewarded with Laura’s flamboyant smoking. I wasn’t the only guy in the bar who noticed her—smoking fetish or no, Laura was attractive, and after a few drinks, obviously hot to trot. She flirted with a few of them, too, and when last call neared, they encircled her, leaving me no connection with her save for occasional glimpses through the throng, and she seemed happy to be the focus of their attention. I figured I’d been played, saddled with her bar bill, and my only consolation was having been around to watch a Fantasia 164 smoking goddess in action. But Laura surprised me; at last call, she declined drink offers from her admirers, emerging from the midst of the men, and quietly said, “I’m ready to go now.” She grabbed my arm and leaned against me. One guy made a last-ditch attempt, but she quietly and firmly, without any hint of intoxication, said, “I told you that I was here with somebody, but it was nice to meet you, Joe. Stop by the restaurant sometime.” As we left, with at least six sets of daggers pointed at my back from the bar, I asked where she wanted to go. Laura smiled and responded, “Do you really need to ask?”
Laura lay face down on my bed with a pillow under her tummy, a concession to her earlier orgasm that left her legs too rubbery to continue doggie-style, while I continued the long strokes that had sapped the strength from them. “Ohhh… fuck! I’m gonna cumagain!” she throatily moaned, just before her hips started vibrating. I pushed all the way into her and wobbled her clit with my finger. “NO!!!!” she cried out, far too late to stop the detonation it caused, making her wail for a long time as her pussy went crazy around my dick, gripping, pulling, pushing, fibrillating and getting very, very wet. I started to move again as soon as I could. “No… please… STOP! Ican’t… I can’t,” gasped Laura, “Stop… please.”
I reluctantly withdrew, and as soon as I pulled out, she had a massive aftershock, and I grabbed her to give her something to hold onto. Laura’s face was bright red, her eyes had rolled back into her head, her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Her arms reflexively wrapped around me with surprising strength. “uh-uh-uh” Little squeaks began coming from her mouth as she writhed uncontrollably, and I could feel the tenseness in her body until she threw her head back and screamed hoarsely, dissolving into my body while steadily whimpering, “oh… oh… oh…” My nuts complained and my dick softened a little as I just held her through a few more minor aftershocks. When her eyes finally stopped fluttering, Laura looked at me, all dewy-eyed and with her face full of “just-fucked-incredibly,” and my cock returned to its full length without being touched. She felt it. “Oh! You didn’t… you didn’t…”
“That’s all right,” I tenderly lied. I could fuck a solid plaster wall right now.
Laura looked at me, and I must have looked sincere, because she smiled, still sleepy-eyed, and cooed, “I’ll take care o’that soon. I promise.” And then she went to sleep. My nuts howled as my dick retreated, and I was still wrapped up with Laura, so I couldn’t jerk off, and I wasn’t the least bit sleepy. So I continued our tender embrace, she sleeping soundly and soundlessly, me frustrated as all hell. She stirred some time later, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and disentangling herself from me. “Oh man… Dean… you’re fantastic,” she purred, giving me a hot kiss, and my nuts tightened some more, feeling like they’d been tied in a knot as Laura hopped out of bed. It had been… nice on the one hand, and I didn’t want to seem like a horny, demanding man—even if I felt like it, I didn’t want to come off as one, because that wasn’t me at my best, and I still held out hope for Laura and me.
She came back into the room a few minutes later with her purse over her shoulder, my water bottle and a couple of glasses on a tray, joking, “My name is Laura, and I’ll be your waitress today.” My nuts still weren’t happy, but the water was appreciated, and after she took a big drink, she pulled a pack of More Lights 100s and a lighter from her purse, lighting it quickly with a big long drag. “Forgot my after-sex cigarette.” My cock noticed, and after three more drags, I was half-hard. Then Laura swung around and saw it as she was dragging on her cigarette. She casually leaned over, took me into her mouth, and exhaled through her nose. “I promised I’d take care of ya,” she said, with a final drag and exhale of the More Light, then she was all over my cock licking, stroking, sucking, and it was my turn to moan and writhe on the bed. Laura began to bob her head rapidly over the top of my dick, while jacking its length furiously.
I started to groan, “Ohhh... Laura… baby… Laura,” louder and louder as she worked on my cock. “I… I…” I wanted to warn her that she was about to make me cum very hard, but it happened almost immediately after I had the thought, and I shot a huge blob of cum into her mouth. Then another onto her chin. Then another onto her cheek. She continued to stroke my cock, opened her mouth, and engulfed it, drawing another large blast of cum that ran down my cock. Laura smeared it with her hand as she kept her handjob going, and I kept cumming. One more big blob erupted from my dick, and then I dribbled constantly, in a haze of painful pleasure.
I regained coherency at the sound of a flicking lighter. Laura was dragging on another beige More Light, wiping the cum from her face. With an impish, self-satisfied grin, she asked, “Did I take care of ya?”
“Ohhhh yeahhh…” was my sighed, sated, response.
She gave me another kiss, and apologized, “Sorry, I know ya wanted to fuck some more… but I don’t think I can take any more tonight.” She inhaled noisily and her eyes fluttered orgasmically. “An’ I want to.”
Later that morning, she proved it. Laura repeated her blowjob, coaxing my dick to full erection, and then she rolled over on her back and spread her legs. “You know how to fu-u-u-u-ck me—sooooo goooood,” she moaned as I slowly thrust at her, coming almost all the way out before sliding all the way back in. She came twice, the last time as I felt my cock swell just before I came. With her arms and legs wrapped around me holding me in place, she shuddered in orgasm, moaning constantly and kissing me passionately when she wasn’t. We lay entwined like that even after my cock shrunk and slid out her, leaving a gooey mess at the front of her pussy.
“Laura,” I began, emboldened by the tenderness of our extended cuddling, “What would you think about moving out of Johnny’s place and moving in with me?”
“That’s a nice offer,” she purred, “but I’m not ready for that.” She turned to face me. “One of the reasons I left home was that I wasn’t ready to get married, and I’m gettin’ old for that—by Hicksville standards.” She looked away for a moment. “An’ as good as you are at fuckin’ me…” Laura paused. “You’re… ummmm…”
“Not your type,” I clinically finished for her.
Laura gave me a sad, conflicted look and confirmed my assessment. “But I like you, Dean,” she said, “I really do. Can we still be friends? I mean, you’re funny, an’ you’re sweet, an’ you put up with my smokin’ fancy cigarettes… you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who does all those things. I still want to be friends with ya.”
What the hell, I thought. You still smoke 120’s, 164’s, and beige cigarettes, and you don’t seem to mind me watching you while you do. “Sure,” I said, unable to keep my voice from cracking.
Laura patted me on cheek in a gesture of consolation. “Johnny’s birthday is Saturday, an’ he’s having a party at The Old Saloon. Drop by?” I agreed after she more or less badgered me into a commitment. “Great! I get off at ten, an’ I’ll be there by ten-thirty!” We had a late lunch, our conversation having turned superficial, and she left my apartment with a smile and a wave. So much for finding a smoking fetish babe to spend my nights with. But it sure was fun while it lasted.
It was a packed house at The Old Saloon Saturday, more than standing room only. Many of my musician friends were there, ensuring that I would be able to resist the temptation to mope over Laura. I was having a good time in spite of myself, and so it took me by surprise when I felt a tap on my shoulder in the middle of a crowd so dense that I could barely move. “How are ya? Been lookin’ for you for a while!” I turned to see Laura smiling broadly. “I’m glad you made it!” she called as she worked her way closer to me, and then whispered, “There’s an after-party at Johnny’s! See ya there!” And she wiggled away from me.
I stood around the bar after closing, waiting to see who was headed for the after-party, debating whether to go. I had almost decided not to when Laura stepped out of the bar and lit a More 120. Memories and hormones changed my mind in an instant while I watched her carefree, long, flowing exhale that was well-illuminated by the lighting outside the building. The bar had been too crowded to watch for any sexy smokers. I need something to fantasize about, was my rationale. She saw me and immediately came over and hugged me around the waist. “Ya comin’? I’m parked a block away, so I’ll see ya there!” She took a second drag from the More, long, brown, and sexy. I was all in for the after-party.
It was much more intimate, somehow, Johnny had succeeded in filtering the crowd down to about twelve people, most of whom I did not know all that well, but the festivity of the occasion made for fast friends. Three people detached themselves from the party to go outside and smoke on his back patio, since there was no smoking indoors. I chose to stay inside where Laura was. She patted the newly vacated sofa and bade me to sit next to her. I did and mostly listened as Johnny talked about his touring experiences from earlier in the year. “Wanna come keep me company outside while I smoke?” Laura asked after a while. She pulled out a More and lit it, before leaning backwards against the railing, her chest pushed forward and tossing her head all the back to exhale. I thickened. She talked about the changes at the restaurant, and how she was in line for shift manager. “The guy comes from money, and he’d rather have too many staff than not enough, which was the problem with the guy he fired.” I nodded absently; enraptured by the way she smoked her More. As soon as she finished, Laura abruptly asked, “Y’wanna blow this joint and go back to your place? As long as I can get a ride back.” I looked at her with surprise—actually, shock, and said that I thought she wanted to be friends. “Ohhh, I understand now,” she exclaimed. “I meant that I wanted to stay friends—like the way we are—not that other kind.” She drew close. “You are such a sweet guy.” The next thing I knew we were kissing hungrily on the back patio. “I’d stay here, but I don’t want everybody at the party to hear us.” We left the party without bothering to go back inside.
I didn’t see Laura regularly after that; her promotion changed her work schedule so that she stopped going out Wednesday nights. This wasn’t a bad thing for me, considering that I usually called in sick on Thursdays after nights with her. I missed her and the way she smoked, the way she came when we fucked, and her vulnerability in those tender and close post-coital moments. I think that Laura wanted what I had offered her, but she was decent enough to refuse to let me give it to her, although it was obvious that I was ready and eager to make that commitment. She could have taken me to the cleaners after a ride that probably would have ended after a stormy one- or- two-year marriage whose main feature and underlying glue was great sex; but she chose not to, no matter how much I tempted her with it. And I tried.
Laura called me out of the blue one night because she had been given the weekend off for her birthday, and she wanted to spend some of it with me. I volunteered to take her out for dinner Friday night, saying, “Let somebody wait on you for a change.” She laughed gaily and accepted.
I picked her up from her cousin’s house. Laura had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a black pants suit instead of the jeans and top she had usually sported when I saw her. She looked hot, and I immediately started concentrating on not thinking about fucking her. She kissed me on the cheek, and I assigned significance to it: she was planning on spending tomorrow night with her boyfriend. I was, of course, wrong. “Well, I’m really happy you were free. Thanks for taking me to dinner on my birthday,” bubbled Laura. “It’s been kinda crazy for me since Johnny’s party. I’m a full-time shift manager now, and so I’m not waiting tables any more, but I have to be there almost all the time. Big raise, but no time off, so I haven’t even been out more than once or twice since I last saw ya.”
When we got to the restaurant, I pulled out her birthday present. “I know what’s in the box,” she excitedly, softly, sang. “It’s my super long colored cigarettes, right?” I told her that she was partially right, and she tore open the wrapping paper, giggling happily as the contents were revealed: four boxes of Fantasia 164’s, two packs of Virginia Slims Lights 120s, and a five-inch cigarette holder. I warned her that the holder would only work with the Virginia Slims, and she immediately took it out. “I always wanted one of those, like in the old movies!” Laura put a Virginia Slim 120 in the holder, trying not to break it in her excitement. I clicked on a lighter that I had purchased just for this moment. Laura leaned to the flame, and took a long pump, then another, and finally a third, producing a jet of smoke from her nostrils. She reclined in the booth with her arm fully extended, the holder vertical between her index and middle fingers at the end of a gracefully cocked wrist. Only then did she slowly lift her head and exhale a perfect long cone of smoke. "Isn't that the way they did it in the old days?" she smiled, apparently clueless of the effect she was having on me. "I feel so classy with this," said Laura, taking another demonstrative drag, followed by a deliberately lifted chin, a pause, and finished with a slow, silent exhale as she eased her chest forward. Dressed up as she was, looking elegant and dangerously sexy, Laura had unknowingly bewitched me to the point where I was crazy-horny.
She studied me for a few seconds after her next lust-inspiring drag and exhale before leaning forward with a small, conspiratorial wave. "I wonder if any of those classy ladies took their dates straight home after dinner to fuck them?" she whispered with more than a hint of intention in her slightly-narrowed eyes. I think I actually may have lost consciousness for a second or two, because the next thing I saw was Laura taking another drag, looking almost like a silent movie star. And she was watching me. Carefully. So she knew what she was doing to me. Our casual, relaxed dinner date suddenly diminished in importance, becoming merely a prelude to a night full of sex. Armed with her new discovery of my "on" switch, Laura teased me, having a second drink (and holdered Virginia Slim 120) before dinner, and selecting a blue Fantasia after dessert, insuring that I had a lot to look at for a good little while. We left the restaurant, me with just the slightest limp while my cock shrank from its hiding place down my pants leg.
"Y'know what I like about you?" she queried as we entered my apartment. "You make me feel more than classy when I smoke." Laura drew close and finished, "You make me feel downright hot." there wasn't much verbal conversation for the next twelve hours as she and I let our bodies communicate. Then we took a break for call-out food and a much-needed break. As dusk fell on the Saturday of her birthday weekend, Laura paraded around my apartment with a pink 164--and no clothes. The bulge at the front of my jeans she elicited signaled that it was time for more sex. I didn't take her home until very late Sunday night, and we never left the apartment.
Unfortunately, that wound up being the last time we had sex. Her schedule at the restaurant became more hectic, and I hung out less, so we didn't run into each other for almost three months. When we did, she was smoking a More Light 100, and she was on someone else's arm. Trusting in my discretion, she introduced me to her boyfriend, the restaurant owner's son. I saw them the next week at one of Johnny's shows, with her looking Virginia Slim 120 delectable--and even more attached. Our conversation was restricted to a brief hello, and the days of being with a woman who knew and understood my fetish were over. Or so I thought.
About a year later, Laura introduced me to her little sister's best friend from back home. Lisa was nineteen and drop-dead gorgeous, with long, straight black hair and a killer body. Sleek and dangerous like a Ferrari, but with an unsophisticated hick's drawl and eyes full of the promise of sex, she caught the attention of every man who passed, accompanied or not. Apparently, Laura was trying to get Lisa a fresh start, because she was considered to be the town slut, with the loyalty (and sexual intensity) of a mink. Why Laura thought I was the right guy for that, I don’t know, and although I still see her occasionally, she still hasn’t told me. Lisa was smoking More 120 menthols when I first met her, coincidentally having just discovered the brand that day through Laura.
But that Pygmalion story will have to wait for another day. Suffice it to say that fifteen years and three children later, Lisa's no longer a Ferrari—she’s like a luxury sedan you love to take on long rides. My wife still enjoys her More menthol 120's, but only in moderation now, smoking at most five in a day. Unless the kids are at grandma and grandpa's for the weekend, and then we turn the clock back, spending a weekend full of assorted smoky fun.