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 Abby the Chain-smoker

   The last one in the pack!  Jeesus!  Two packs again and almost half a
pack from the day before!  I must be crazy, she thought.  By the end of the
day she didn't even enjoy the cigarettes any more.  She just kept on
lighting up like on automatic.  Yet she just couldn't help it.  Without
them she felt even worse.  She hadn't even noticed when she had crossed the
line.  For quite a while she had smoked a pack or so, anyway never more
then a pack and a half.  A carton lasted about a week those days.  If she
hadn't been out on Saturday night, even more.  Her cough in the morning
hadn't been more than a breeze compared to fits she went through now. 
Still in a pervert way she actually enjoyed those coughs.  The first drag
in the morning, setting her lungs afire after the excruciating cough was
pure heaven.  She had no explanation for it, but she actually seemed to
enjoy the downside of smoking as much as smoking itself.

   Damn!  She had smoked the cigarette up without even noticing.  Hadn't it
been the last in the pack, she would have forgotten it altogether.  Well,
she would start a new pack.  After all who would give a fart about it?  She
might need a cigarette or two during the night anyway.

   Lately she never managed to sleep through the whole night.  She would
get up and smoke a cigarette only two or three hours after she had fallen
asleep and since a week or two she needed two "smoking breaks" during the
night.  Well, she was a chain-smoker now, no doubt.  So what, who gave a
damn anyway.

   This time she was determined to really savor the cigarette.  The best
way would be to double pump it or maybe she would just make longer, deeper
drags, holding the smoke down longer than usual.  Recently she had
accidentally seen her image in the mirror while smoking.  She had been in
the bathroom to brush her teeth when she looked up and realized that she
had been smoking while brushing her teeth.  For a moment she had been
shocked.  But then she said to herself it didn't matter anymore.  Some time
ago she had started smoking through her meals so what if she smoked while
brushing her teeth too?

   The mirror had also shown her something else that should in a way had
alarmed her even more.  Once, years ago when she had started smoking at the
unusual age of twenty-four, she had deliberately cultivated an elegant and
sexy smoking style.  What the mirror shoved her now was a woman that smoked
in a very ungainly way.  Like a construction worker or something.  Yak! 
What had become of her?

   She would smoke this one in front of the mirror and practice.  She had
done it once, she would do it again!  It had been real fun those days.  She
had gotten an almost sensual thrill when smoking a cigarette.  The funniest
thing about her smoking was she started to smoke sort of the wrong way
round.  As a teenager she had been a "good girl".  She never even tried
smoking, she didn't drink and she had the same boyfriend all throughout
high school.  Instead of going to college she married Roger, her boyfriend.
Then, before she had time to realize, he died in a plane crash.  She often
thought that what had hurt most those days had been not that he was gone,
but that his death had been so stupid.  He shouldn't have been on that
plane, but he swapped tickets with a guy.

   Her downfall had begun about a month after the funeral.  Mary had turned
from a neighbor into her best friend.  What an irony!  Mary had been on a
quit smoking trip those days and chewed Nicorettes all the time.  Out of
some sort of solidarity she had tried a gum with Mary.  The sensation was
overwhelming.  Soon both were chewing the gums all the time.  Then, a year
later, Mary moved away and she tried to quit the Nics, but she realized she
was addicted.

   Depressed as she was, a widow with a Nicorette problem, she decided to
try the real thing, just for fun and bought herself some cigarettes.  Her
first attempt ended into a disaster.  Having no idea how to smoke, she had
tried to breathe in the smoke directly.  It had choked her and she coughed
for a quarter of an hour.  Not willing to give up, she thought of a way to
"learn" how it was done.  She remembered that when she was a little girl
she had loved the old black and white movies where the women were always
smoking.  As she had grown up in a smoke-free home, even with grand parents
that didn't smoke, she had no idea what exactly those women did, only that
it looked elegant.

   The guy from the video shop didn't know what she was talking about, but
he agreed to let her take home all the ten tapes he had from the thirties,
charging her only two.  Playing around with a cigarette and feeling the
cravings from the lack of nicotine, she wound each tape back and forth a
dozen times till she stumbled upon a Bette Davies movie.  Yes, that was the
trick, she found out.  Suck a little and then breathe in the smoke with a
lot of air.

   The first drag tasted of nothing.  She had to try a little more smoke.
Wow, her whole body tingled.  Another inhale and another till her throat
started to ache.  She would have to take it easier next time.  But it had
been such a gratifying experience!  So much better than the Nicorettes!

   Next morning she found herself facing a decision.  Should she stick to
Nicorettes or buy a carton of cigarettes instead?  The ease with which she
had consumed the better part of the pack leaving her just four cigarettes
for the next morning showed her that unless she would want to make a habit
out of buying cigarettes each day, she would have to buy them by the
carton. The pangs she had felt that very morning and the relief that came
with the first cigarette had shown her how powerful the grip of nicotine
was on her already, but it had also taught her how great a satisfaction a
cigarette in the right moment could be.  She had felt elated, almost
aroused, like when John had kissed her or...

   Shit!  She had again smoked it up without noticing.  Never mind!  She
would take another one.  And if she would smoke three packs that day?  So
what?  There was no one there to count her packs for her.  But first she
would have to set it all up.  A chair in front of the mirror and a lamp
behind her head, to accentuate the smoke would do the trick.  Yeah, this
was fun.  She felt excited like in the first weeks.  After she had felt
comfortable smoking cigarettes, she had begun to train in front of the
mirror.  She had felt so sexy making her cheeks cave in, inhaling with half
closed lips and then blowing those long streams!  Sometimes she had played
slut, dangling the cigarettes or exhaling through the nose.  God how fun it
had been!

   Somehow things had shifted in time.  For a while she went to bars.  She
had always had a good figure and the few pounds she had gained after the
tragedy had even improved her looks, so men always circled round her like
flies around a cake.  It had taken her almost two years to realize this was
no way to find someone.  Not that she had ever left a bar alone, but even
if on rare occasions the guy wouldn't disappear during the night, in the
morning prince charming turned into a toad.

   Next she had started a romance with a guy she had met outside a
supermarket.  All had gone well for a year or so, but then she began to
feel a sort of itch on weekends.  Weekends with Bill, her boyfriend, had
somehow grown dull.  She began to go out alone again.  At first Bill had
accepted it, hoping she would grow weary, but instead she flirted with men
till the inevitable happened.  When she came home in the early morning
hours she found Bill packing.  He left without speaking another word to
her.

   She found that a couple of cigarettes helped turning the sharp stab of
remorse into a dull throbbing ache.  That must have been the time she had
crossed the line.  From that day on a single cigarette never seemed to be
enough.  She began to chain two or sometimes three of them, till now the
chain was hardly ever interrupted except for the few hours she slept
between the need to smoke another couple of cigarettes.



   At least she could afford it.  An old friend of her late husband, Vern,
had helped her invest the money and even though the price of cigarettes had
exploded in the last years, her income from the shares Vern had bought for
her had increased too.  She wouldn't be able to take up an office job.  No
way!  Not with the smoking ban everywhere.  Well, it didn't matter.  After
Bill, all energy had left her.  She hadn't really loved him, but it had
been nice to have him around.  Sex with him had been nice.  Not excellent
but good.  Now all there was left was good old Vern.

   She had often asked herself what exactly was the nature of their
relationship.  Funny that back when Roger was still alive, she had mixed
feelings about Vern.  She remembered the night Roger had first brought Vern
to their home.  He was a nice, sympathetic guy, a little shy perhaps, but
not dumb.  There was something peculiar about him, though, the way he
avoided addressing her, how she never seemed to be able to engage him in a
conversation.  As a man he had never interested her, although, when Roger
introduced him, she had felt something almost like an electrical shock when
shaking his hand, but she hadn't given it the slightest attention.  She was
very much in love with Roger and that was it.  There was no room even for
flirting with other men.  Roger was by far the more impressive male of the
two anyway.  Big, strong and virile, he literally shadowed Vern.  Although
Vern was as tall as Roger, he was lean and haggard, with more muscles in
his head than on his arms.

   After Roger had so suddenly vanished out of her life, Vern had been
there to help her.  A shame she had neglected him after all he had done for
him.  But it was typical for Vern he never called her up or complained.  If
she called him, he was always there.  Not once had he used an excuse to
look her up.  She could call him in the middle of the night and he would be
there, like he had expected her call.  Yet she had never expressed her
gratitude.  She hadn't even invited him out.  Not once.  Maybe she was too
selfish to do that.  In recent times she also felt a little ashamed about
her excessive smoking.  Not that he had ever commented on her smoking. 
When she had started and he saw her for the first time smoking a cigarette,
all he said was: 'so you decided to pick up smoking.' and not a word more.
Even in recent times when it couldn't have escaped him how bad her smoking
had become, he never mentioned it.

   Maybe she should call him up.  They could drive to the lake for a
change. Out there in the woods she could smoke as much as she wanted. 
Although she didn't really miss that, a change of scenery might be a good
idea and she didn't feel like going alone.  Besides, ever since she had
crashed her car into a concrete pillar of a bridge because she had fumbled
in her purse in the futile hope to find a stray cigarette, she didn't drive
any more.  She had never bothered to buy another car.  Not with Vern there,
who would not only be at her disposition anytime she needed him, but who
never complained about what she did to his car, filling it with smoke and
filling up the ashtray.  And he didn't even smoke himself.

   Sometimes she felt there was something strange about Vern.  Instead of
at least showing the tiniest trace of disapproval with her smoking, he
seemed to sort of bloom up lately.  He had always been a nice and friendly
chap, but lately he had become sort of, well not happy, but more relaxed in
a way.  Although, she sometimes had the feeling he was under a sort
pressure.  She had seen his hands shake once or twice and the last time,
when they both filled up the trunk of his car with the stuff from the
supermarket, he had sort of jolted when she accidentally turned her head
towards him and their cheeks had touched for a the fraction of a second. 
She couldn't possibly imagine he felt more for her than friendship,
although she wouldn't have been disinclined at times.  Yet, as he had never
shown the slightest intention of becoming more than a friend, she had
dismissed the idea.  Besides, her smoking had already cost her much of her
once good looks.  Her one time rosy complexion was now grayish livid, with
dilated pores.



   No, she seemed not to be able to smoke a cigarette the way she had set
out to.  She might as well give it up and just smoke another one.  Then she
realized how stupid that sounded.  She laughed a little at herself, but
still she lit another one, just for the heck of it.  Maybe she should
really call Vern.  It was a clear night and the moon was almost full.  It
would shine nicely over the lake.  Even if it meant nothing to Vern, he
would at least keep her company.  Roger had never been a fan of "sappy
romantic" foolishness as he called it.  In fact it had been Vern who, as
reaction to the smoking ban in bars and restaurants, had taken her to the
lake for the first time.  Now that she had no car, she couldn't even drive
there alone.  Well, it was a good excuse to see Vern.  He hadn't been
around for a week or so and she really missed him.

   Except for "Hi" and "what's up", Vern never spoke much, unless there was
a specific topic to discuss.  Then he could become loquacious, even
eloquent.  Mostly, when they drove somewhere, she found it quite pleasant
to just sit there and smoke.  This time it was different, though.  Without
realizing, she felt the need to talk to him.  She felt like being closer to
him.  Talking to someone always made her feel closer to that person, almost
intimate.  Maybe she hadn't really lost interest in men after all and then
why not Vern.  She had dated lesser men than him.



   It had been a new and pleasant experience at first, to find satisfaction
without being invaded by a man's organ.  Even with Roger sex hadn't always
been pure pleasure to her.  Afterwards, when she had taken men home, it had
been something mechanical.  Even with Bill she had secretly felt that she
made love to him more for control over him than for her own pleasure. 
Alone, using her fingers to touch her where and when she wanted, it had
been a new and refreshing sensation.  When she had first masturbated while
smoking a cigarette it had been a revelation.  She realized that for
whatever reason her orgasm was more intense when she smoked.  But lately
she had grown weary of her little games.  She began to long for a man, to
feel his body crushing her, or to ride him as Bill has taught her, maybe to
be taken from behind as Roger has sometimes done in the middle of the
night. Funny, back than she had hated that, feeling almost raped, but now
she longed for it.  The only problem was she feared she would still want to
smoke during sex and what man could accept that?



   Without noticing, she blew the smoke towards Vern, making him blink. 
Realizing what she had done, she tried to wave the smoke away, but Vern
just took her hand and said:

   'Don't bother.  I don't mind.  Really I don't.'

   Strange that his voice sounded so hoarse in a way!  Like something
strangled him.  Yet he smiled.  He looked happy in a way.  Should he really
be glad to see her?  Well, it didn't really matter.  Why not light another
cigarette?  Now that she had started into the third pack, she could as well
go on with it.  But as she flipped the lid open, she realized there was no
way the remaining four cigarettes would last her through the night.

   'Vern?'

   'What's up, girlie?' Vern always called her girlie.  And why not?  It
made her feel younger in a way.

   'You think we could make a detour to the mall?  I forgot to take a pack
with me and I've only got four left of this one here.' She said, showing
him the almost empty one.

   To her surprise, he laughed and reached for the glove compartment.

   'Do you think I would ever risk bringing you into such a situation?'

   The glove compartment held a carton of her beloved Dunhills.

   'Oh my God!  Vern!  You're an angel.' She exclaimed, suddenly filled
with joy.  How considerate a man Vern was!

   Without thinking, she leant over and gave him a smooch.

   'I love you for that, Vern!' she said, suddenly a bit ashamed.  What if
he found her smell yucky?

   'And I love you, girlie.'

   At first she thought she hadn't heard right.  Not the words, but the way
they were spoken, or better whispered, made her shiver.  Was it possible?

   'You do?' she said quietly afraid of where this would lead.

   Suddenly Vern stepped on the breaks and stopped the car.

   'Yes Abby, I do.  I always did.  Ever since I first saw you.' His voice
was firm now, as if he had made up his mind to tell her all, come what may.

   'But why didn't you say anything?' Abby felt the goose pimples on her
skin.  This was so strange.  She just couldn't' believe they had this kind
of conversation.

   'How could I?  You were Roger's wife.' He exclaimed, his voice loaded
with bitterness.

   'But after...?'

   'That was even worse.  I would have felt like I took advantage of his...
Besides you needed a friend, not a lover.' He said, quietly again

   'But you saw what happened.  You knew I went out with other men.'

   'And what did you expect me to believe?  You hadn't come to me, so how
could I believe you felt anything for me?'



   'But you should have!' Abby shouted out, suddenly realizing that she had
meant it.  Years of uncried tears suddenly seemed to break out of her all
at once.  She broke into a spastic choking fit of crying that shook her
whole body.  Two strong arms encircled her and she felt a slightly rough
cheek against hers.  Then his lips moved along her face till he found her
lips.

   Abby's body seemed to melt into the seat.  She couldn't breathe, but
still she refused to draw away from the sweetness of his kiss.  For a while
she dived into the hot haze of intense arousal.

   'Oh my God, Vern, why in earth did you have to wait so long?' she
whispered.

   She saw the wings of his nose flutter and realized she must have talked
her smelly breath directly into his nose.  Ashamed she wanted to turn her
head away, but to her surprise Vern held her by the head, forcing her to
face him.

   'Don't!' he whispered.  'I love to smell you.'

   But how could that be?  How could he like that?  But then who cared. 
She crushed his lips again with hers.

   'God, Abby, I feel like doing it here and now.' He whispered.

   She realized she felt just the same.

   After a few awkward twists, they freed their lover bodies enough to be
able to come together.  When his hot penis slid into her, she felt the
pressure mounting up already.  Never before had she been so eager, so
horny! Her breath accelerated while he gently moved in and out her.  No man
had ever been so gentle in his moves, was about the last conscious thought.
Then suddenly he paused and she heard something rustle.  His hand came to
her face holding a cigarette.  She accepted gratefully, having craved for
it but not daring to ask.  The sudden explosion of the flame made her
twitched and she felt how he blinked from the sudden pressure of her inner
muscles around his penis.



   Slowly she woke up from her ecstasy and felt how again Vern fed her a
cigarette.  This time he had taken the time to light it for her.  Grateful
she inhaled the fragrant smoke deep into her lungs and then again and once
more till she felt she couldn't expand her chest any wider.  Vern sealed
her lips with his, forcing her to delay the exhale.  Her ears started to
tingle but then she felt him suck on her lips and she released the smoke
into his mouth.  She could feel how he sucked it in gratefully.  Then Vern
blew it out again, the smoke now almost invisible.



   Abby felt the tears dripping out of her eyes.  She just couldn't stop
it. She felt so incredibly happy, sad and happy at the same time.

   'What's wrong, Abby?' he asked gently.

   'God, Vern, I'm so happy, but I cry for all those years we've missed.'

   He sighed deeply.  What was there to say to that?  How could he admit he
had done it all on purpose?  He had needed the years to softly push her
towards the point they had now reached.  Always supplying her with
cigarettes, fetching them for her when she called him up at night,
desperate she had ran out of them, always lighting her cigarettes and as
often as he could, offering her a lit one even if she hadn't asked for one.
Patience had been his best weapon.  What a strike of genius to pay that
bitch Mary to trick Abby into chewing Nicorettes!  He would bet his life
Abby hadn't even noticed it had been at his suggestion she should try a
real cigarette to do away with the Nicorettes!  And now look at her!  A
perfect chain-smoker if he had ever seen one.  Now she was ripe.  She had
even accepted the cigarette while he fucked her!  Splendid!  He would take
her home now and fuck her brains out.  Lucky he had felt it coming and had
bought a supply of good cigars.  After a few smoky fucks she would be ready
to smoke a really big one while riding him.

   'C'mon Abby, let's go home.  I wanna have you in a real bed.  We've got
some years to make up for.  Let's not waste any time.

   Head on his shoulder, Abby smoked happily while he drove her home.  The
cigarettes seemed to taste so much better now!  She had worked her way
through half the fourth pack of the day now, but it didn't bother her no
more.  Vern liked it, so she could smoke without remorse.  Maybe she might
ask Vern to bring her some cigars one day.  She had always been sort of
curious how it would be to smoke a good cigar.  If she was lucky, he might
allow her to smoke one during lovemaking....
   The End