Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Exotic Dancer

   It was the last night before my flight home.  Most of the participants
of the symposium had left and as I hadn't made any friends anyway, I had to
somehow kill the night.  Even though Montmartre with its Boulevard de
Clichy had lost a lot of its one time glamour, I thought it might still be
worth a visit.  After all, every city has its "musts", places you've simply
got to see.  Rome has the Coliseum, Berlin the Reichstag and Paris, well
Paris has a number of them, like the Eiffel Tower or the Notre Dame and of
course the Moulin Rouge.

   I took the metro to Place Pigalle and there it was, smaller and shabbier
than one might expect, but that didn't surprise me.  A lot of "great
places" live on reputation rather then facts.  Scared off by the queue in
front of the ticket booth as well as the price of the tickets, I decided to
simply stroll around for a while.  While no match to Vegas, still the
Boulevard de Clichy, with its four and five stories blocks from the end of
the nineteenth century and the little sex shops illuminated in all possible
shades of red and pink promised to be an interesting experience.

   In the still mild October air I strolled along the sidewalk, trying to
keep a safe distance from the bouncers that tried to drag passers by into
their joints.  I wasn't really interested in a quick and drab intercourse
with a third rate whore.  One guy however proved to be too much for me. 
First, he asked me for a light.  Now I don't smoke, but I'm always prepared
to offer a lady a light if the occasion should arise, so although he was a
man I offered him my lighter.  Then he began a conversation with me and
made a few jokes about what was going on around us.  Next he confessed he
had been tempted by one of the places and had seen a truly unique
performance.  He refused to give details, but said that I would have to see
it myself.  I asked where the place was and he pointed behind him.

   Only after I had my foot already in the door did I realize the guy was
the bouncer of the place.  Well, I said to myself, I've saved a lot of
money by not buying a ticket for the Moulin Rouge so I might as well spend
it here.  The place I was about to enter didn't look like a brothel, so I
would just have a drink or two for the price of a meal in a better
restaurant and watch whatever show they had.  Maybe it would prove to be
interesting too, who could tell?

   The waiter escorted me to one of the tiny tables for one, not far from
the stage and I waited for the things to come.  The place was hazy with
thick cigarette smoke, so at least I would have the opportunity to watch
some ladies smoke..  The French would probably start a second Revolution
should their government really try and pull the same trick New York's mayor
and a lot of others have pulled on bars and restaurants with their smoke
ban.

   The curtain was still closed and for a while I sipped on my Scotch and
kept scanning the room in search of a beautiful smoker worth watching.  The
Scotch was of acceptable quality, even though it would cost me more than a
whole bottle of Single Malt in the Duty Free shop at the airport.

   After what might have been a quarter of an hour and half of my drink,
the light went from dim to dimmer and a spotlight appeared on the curtain.
The music from the hidden speakers grew louder and they now played a sort
of jazzy tune with a slow beat, perfect for a striptease act.  Slowly the
curtain rose while surprisingly the light of the spotlight faded away.

   The first thing I saw was a faint glow in the middle of the small scene,
pulsating in the rhythm of the music, till I realized it was the burning
end of a cigar.  My eyes adapted to the dark and now I could see that the
glow of the cigar cast it's reflection on the face of a woman.  Then the
glow described an arch and began to pulsate again.  For a second I believed
there was a second person there, but then the spotlight went on again,
slowly increasing its intensity, till the woman was in full light.  She had
the perfect figure for an exotic dancer.  Heavy but not fat, with bulging
hips and breasts and a pleasant, even beautiful round face, her eyes and
mouth heavily accentuated with lots of make-up.  Her rich dark hair was
dressed up in the typical twenties style, short on the neck and longer in
front, so that the upturned ends pointed to the corners of her lips.

   At first she just laid there, lazing on a settee without a backrest, the
one the French call Chaiselongue.  Her left hand rested on her hip, holding
a big cigar between her fingers, the burning end pointing upwards.  When
the spotlight reached its full intensity she released a long stream of
smoke from her mouth.  Obviously she had kept the smoke down for quite a
while.  That of course raised my level of attention by at least five
hundred percent.  Following the exhale she blew a kiss to the audience
accompanied by a wink.  I realized she had a wonderful smile.

   Next she rose and began with the stripping act, each piece of clothes
thrown away accompanied by the usual drum roll.  What added a particular
note to the otherwise rather plain strip-tease act was that she held the
cigar between her teeth and kept puffing on it, even though she didn't
inhale.  As in French cabarets showing intimate body parts is considered
perfectly normal, she didn't make a show of holding bra or panties close to
her body till the spotlight would turn off the moment she was about to
uncover her breasts or her tuft.  Instead she just revealed each part of
her body in a quite nonchalant way, till she stood there naked except for
her black net stockings fastened to a garter belt.

   But the show had just begun.  With a few sways of her hips she
maneuvered backwards to the settee.  She draped her naked body over it in
truly picturesque pose, exposing her magnificent breasts and her mound to
the public by letting one foot dangle over the rim of the settee and
raising the knee of the other one.  Then the spotlight suddenly divided
into two separate spots of light, one centered on her face, the other
between her loins.  Now she began to drag hard on the cigar, but without
letting the tiniest whiff of smoke escape.  By the sucking moves of her
lips I could see that she pumped on the cigar, inhaling thoroughly. 
Keeping her lips closed, she took the cigar out and with a languid move. 
Then she took it to her mound, pushing it slowly up her vagina.  The cherry
of the cigar began to glow again, as if she was dragging on it with her
lower body.  After what seemed an eternity, she slowly exhaled a rich plume
of smoke from her mouth.  The cigar went back to her lips and while she
dragged on it like before, another plume of smoke escaped between her
loins, as if she could drag in as much smoke into her pelvis as she could
inhale into her lungs.

   Again and again she alternated between upper and lower lips, till she
created the impression the smoke traveled back and forth through her body
as if her windpipe extended from mouth to vagina.  I doubt I have ever been
so fascinated in my whole life.  Without realizing I ordered another drink,
my eyes glued to that body that seemed to fill up with smoke like a
balloon. She didn't stop till more than half of the cigar had gone up in
smoke.  Suddenly the spotlights went out, only to flare up again seconds
later and show her oozing smoke from both sides.  Then the curtain fell,
leaving the audience prostrated till someone clapped his hands.  This broke
the spell and we all stood up and cheered.

   For a while, I just tried to catch my breath and calm down till the
bulge in my pants would melt away.  My glass was empty and I had to decide
whether I would have another exorbitantly priced drink or leave.  Neither
prospect seemed very attractive.  Sitting there and just watch a few women
smoking cigarettes suddenly seemed a rather dully past time after the show
I had just watched.  Of course I realized it was anatomically impossible to
hold so much smoke inside a vagina, but still the illusion had been
incredible.  Even smoking a cigar the normal way, with her mouth, she had
looked ravishing, the more so as in retrospect I remembered that all of her
body was nearly perfect, even though I had given it much less attention
than her cigar.

   As excited as I was and not really knowing what to do next, I saw a bar
in a part of the room I hadn't noticed previously.  I paid my drinks to the
waiter and went to look for a free stool.  I was lucky, as a party of
friends left the bar and freed several places.  I climbed one of the stools
and decided to go for some lighter stuff.  A glance at my watch told me it
was still early.

   I ordered a German beer because I like the sweet taste of some German
brands coming from the South of Germany, even though it's much stronger
than Budweiser and a six pack can knock you over easily.  For a while I
just sat there and sipped from my beer and reviewed the show in my mind. 
It had been such a perfect combination of a beautiful woman with a perfect
body and mind-blowing smoking skills!

   The scratching noise of a stool being moved next to me woke me up from
my daydream.  I glanced cautiously at my side, careful not to be impolite.
In the corner of my eye I saw a young woman of no more than thirty. 
Nothing on her struck me as spectacular and my mind drifted off again. 
That woman on the stage!  Just once I would have wished to make the
acquaintance of someone like her.  But how big were the odds?  Women that
smoke cigars don't stand on each corner and of the few into this exotic
hobby, not many are young and really good looking.

   The voice I heard at my side was deep and a hoarse, yet not unpleasant.
In fact, as I listened more attentively to her brief conversation with the
barman, an elderly guy with a permanent frown on his face, I realized she
had a very sexy voice and I became interested.  Behind the bar was a mirror
framed by shelves with bottles and glasses on them.  I had to turn a little
to get into the right angle and now I could look directly at the woman. 
Even though I could see her only from the waist upwards, what I saw began
to interest me.  A nice face, even though a little pale it seemed.  The
haircut struck me as vaguely familiar.  I had seen a similar haircut on the
stage, less than half an hour ago, the same stylish retro hairdo.  She wore
a plain blouse of an indefinite beige color, not very fashionable, which
together with the absence of make-up on her face struck me as odd in a
place where the few women scattered among hordes of drooling men were all
made up and dressed up.

   The barman served her with some brandy in an oversized tumbler.  She
took a good sip from it and then our eyes met in the mirror.  She stared
directly into my eyes and then winked and blew a kiss.  That's when I
realized it was the same woman that had performed so marvelously on stage.
Simultaneously we turned our heads and our eyes met again, this time
without the help of the mirror.

   'I was wondering how long it will take you to recognize me.' She said in
her wonderful voice, sending small electrical discharges all over my body.
She had addressed me in English, American English to be more precise.  That
relieved me from the tedious task of sustaining a conversation in French.

   'Oh, err, yes.  You really have a nice act here.' I stammered.

   'Thank you!  I hope you enjoyed it.' She said, smiling at me.

   'Oh yes, it was quite unique.  I mean you seemed to defy the laws of
anatomy.'

   As an answer she laughed from all her heart.  Little gargling sounds,
the proof of heavy smoking, accompanied her laughter.

   'Oh, yeah!' she exclaimed, a little breathless from her laugh.  'Bet you
don't know how it's done.'

   'Oh, I can't say, but I'm pretty sure you haven't had any surgery to be
able to do this.' I replied, slowly getting into gear.  After the initial
surprise I felt the excitement of an upcoming flirt.

   'Well go ahead, ask.'

   'Would you tell me your secret, then?' I teased her

   'Now c'mon, do you expect me to give away my professional secrets?  Just
like that?  Without even an attempted bribe?'

   'All right, what can I do to persuade you?  Another drink perhaps?  Or
anything else?' I said, engaging in her little game.

   'Another drink would be a good start, but if you're counting on
loosening my tongue with alcohol, I must disappoint you.  It won't work.'
She made the next move.  'If you really want to tempt me, I could think of
something...'

   'And what might that be?' I asked, curious where this would lead us.

   'Oh, my dear friend George here has a stock of Macanudos for special
customers.'

   Her answer sent a lightning down my spine.  Could it be?

   'So you smoke them also in private?' I asked, my voice al little shaky.

   'What did you expect?  I need to, as a sort of training.  If I was to
smoke them only on stage, I'd get sick every time.  It's been hard work to
get there and I have to keep it up.'

   And so I bought her a Macanudo from George.  Meanwhile I found my supply
of European currency dwindling fast, but little did I care.  I would rather
walk all the way from my hotel to the airport than miss a single minute
with this beautiful cigar smoker.

   'Hey thanks, that's cute of you.  You shouldn't have taken me seriously.
I've been only joking.  Although, this is a gift I cannot refuse.  Now I
owe you something.' She said upon receiving the cigar.

   'I'm glad you like it.  I couldn't refuse such a graceful lady a wish.
But of course I'm dying of curiosity.  You will tell me, won't you?' and I
meant it.

   Now that we sat face to face, I could study her face and the more I
looked at her, the more I liked what I saw.  Without the exaggerated stage
make up she had an innocent, almost girlish look.  Her eyes, although not
highlighted by mascara and eyeliner, still looked magnificent.

   'All right, I tell you what.  I can't just tell you all my secrets, but
I can make a little demonstration and let you figure it out by yourself.'
She said with a sigh.

   She took the Macanudo and went through all the mechanics of preparing a
cigar.  Then she took a box of oversized matches from her purse and used
the first match to heat up the end of the cigar, a procedure I had heard
aficionados call "toasting".  Next, she licked the other end of the cigar
and took about an inch of it into her mouth.  She lit a match and held the
end of the cigar into the flame.  Her cheeks caved in while she sucked
rhythmically on the cigar till it had a uniform glow on its end.  The next
drag went straight down into her lungs and out again in a long dense
stream.

   I couldn't say if she had noticed me stare, but I saw no reaction.  My
caged dick pressed hard against my pants.  Luckily the light was dim, so I
could hope to go undetected.  When she addressed me I startled, so
captivated had I been.

   'Are you ready for the demo?' she asked, a vicious grin on her face.

   I nodded, unable to speak.  My throat felt like it was lined with
sandpaper.  I had never before been so close to a female cigar smoker.

   'Watch this!' she exclaimed and began to suck on the cigar.

   She did it in the same manner I had seen her do it on stage.  Her lips
were closed firmly around the cigar and she opened them only for the
fraction of a second to suck air in and pump in the smoke.  Slowly she slid
the cigar out, keeping her lips closed.  What came next almost made fall
off the stool.

   Two hands of which one held a cigar between index and middle finger,
closed around the back of my head and suddenly her lips sealed mine.  I
felt her tongue probe into my mouth and I snapped my mouth open and met her
tongue with mine.  She seemed quite eager to kiss me and I felt her getting
into gear.

   With a loud smack she withdrew.

   'Now watch!' she whispered and blew a big cloud of smoke right into my
face.  'Got it?'

   I thought I would never be able to speak again.  And yet some part of my
mind seemed to still work, as I heard myself say:

   'Well, I'm not sure.  Do you think you could show me once more?'

   She laughed and began to suck on her cigar the same way she had before.

   **

   Half an hour later she had almost choked me with a couple of smoky cigar
kisses, as we had started into full blown smoky kisses that required that
she would blow the smoke into my mouth while we kissed.  Although the harsh
cigar smoke burned on my throat, I enjoyed it very much.T If she wouldn't
take me home I would have to search for the nearest dark corner and rub off
the tension.

   With a quick move she crushed the short stub into the ashtray.

   'Thanks a bunch for the wonderful cigar.  The job doesn't pay so much
that I can afford this kind of treat very often.  Usually I have to smoke
cheap drugstore stuff.  At least for the act they provide me with better
ones.' she said pensively.  'I hope you're satisfied now.'

   'Well, to tell the truth, I hadn't had the time to think about it.  I
don't come round to kiss beautiful young ladies like you every day, you
know, so I was kind of distracted.' I replied, my flirting engine still on
full power, even though I was hardly aware of what I was saying.

   She drew near and whispered into my ear:

   'I think in your case it will require a private lesson.'

   I couldn't believe my luck.  She had just invited me to her place with
the obvious purpose.

   *

   I must admit I hardly saw anything of her room.  My eyes seemed locked
on her.  She had led me to an apartment right above the bar.  We started to
kiss and rub against each other the moment she closed the door behind me.
In the few seconds she had left me to fetch her overcoat, I had bought a
second cigar from George, although it had cost me my last bill.  Now I took
the cigar out of my breast pocket and showed it to her.

   'Oh my God, you bought me another one.  Your so nice, err, oh, I don't
even know your name yet.' She exclaimed.  'I'm Roseanne, Rosy for my
friends.  And you?'

   'Oh hi, I'm Jeb.  Nice to meet you.' And we shook hands formally as if
we had just met, but only to fall into each other's arms again.  Slowly I
began to tuck up her blouse.  She helped me by dragging it over her head
and I unbuttoned my shirt too.  In a funny dance around the room we
struggled to undress without parting our lips.  After one last kiss she
pushed me towards the bed and made me lay down on my back.  She straddled
me and directed my hard cock into her.  The sudden warmth almost made me
jerk off, but I managed to avoid it.  Before she began to actually ride me,
she reached for the Macanudo and lit it.

   Half a cigar length later she rested on my chest and I felt the heat of
her cigar almost burn my chest while she dragged.  I was satiated with
pleasure.  I took her head in my hands and kissed her hard on her lips,
enjoying the harsh flavor.  Then I decided to give in to my burning
curiosity.

   'May I ask you a question?' I whispered into her ear

   'Yeah, payday!  Now you want me to reveal my tricks.' She replied,
somewhat annoyed.

   'Well, not exactly.  I have a pretty good idea that the smoke you seem
to blow from your pussy comes from some device incorporated in the settee
you lay on during the show.' I said

   'You could have saved the money on the cigars, if you knew that all
along.' She said laughing.

   'Well, I wouldn't say I wasted it.  Just watching you smoke was worth
it, not to mention your kisses.' I said, smiling at her.

   'Well, thanks then, it's been my pleasure.' And like to underline her
words she gifted me with another smoky kiss.

   'But I thought you wanted to ask me something.' She said after a while

   'Oh that, ehem, well, actually I wanted to ask you how come you can
smoke cigars like that.' I dared forward my question.

   'Oh, all right, that's no secret.  I was in college when it all started.
I had my first cigarette when I was fifteen or so, but didn't start to
smoke on a regular basis till I entered college and I smoked only half a
pack a day.  Some of my friends even made fun of me because I was such a
lightweight smoker.  Then one day at a party after a couple of shots of
Tequila, somebody challenged me I wouldn't be able to smoke a cigar.  Well,
it turned into a contest and the guy who challenged me had to try and smoke
me under the table, meaning we both had to smoke a cigar at the same time.
The first who would either let his cigar go out or get sick or give up
would loose.  Bets were placed and of course the odds were five to one
against me.  To make a long story short, the guy threw up after having
smoked about half of the cigar.  Actually I was sick as a dog too, but I
wanted to prove my point and smoked most of the thing without throwing up.
Inexperienced as I was, I inhaled all the way and even found I liked it, at
least till the nicotine had piled up in my system too high and my head went
reeling.  After that party I began to smoke cigars occasionally, then
daily, till I switched to cigars completely.'

   'Nice story, but there's one thing I still don't quite understand.  I
can tell from your accent you're American.  It's a long way to Paris.'

   '...and into such a joint like the one I work in?' she said, a touch of
sadness on her voice.  'Well, that's another story.  It was a guy's fault,
of course.  He played the great French lover and to tell the truth, he did
great in bed, but after he lured me into o a trip to Paris, he dumped me
the day we arrived, leaving me at the hotel without money or papers.  I
went to the embassy, but they weren't very helpful at first.  Back at the
hotel I found a note that someone wanted to talk to me.  It was the manager
from the "Le Fumoir".  The two of them had worked it out together, but what
could I do?  I started to work there and somehow I came to like the job. 
Even after the embassy cleared things up and I could have left, I didn't. I
make good money with the show and some side-acts and I kinda got to like
Paris.  At least people here don't stare at you when you light up a cigar.'

   When she mentioned side-acts, I began to realize that she did profess in
another field too.  Would se expect me to pay her now?  I had no idea what
the fee for her services would be, but that the change I had in my pocket
wouldn't suffice, that much I knew.  As if she had read my mind, she said:

   'Oh don't worry, the first time's always on the house, but if you want
to come back for more, we'll have to talk shop.' And she kissed me softly.

   Well, I said to myself, if it's on the house, why not make the best of
it?  I started to kiss her more fervently, feeling my dick already swelling
again.

   ***

   Breathless with fatigue but grinning inwardly, I stumbled along the
corridor connecting two metro lines, somewhere at a station called
St.-Michel.  So she had taken me for a rich guy!  True, I like to dress a
little above average, but my suits were all made in Hong Kong, just copies
for a mere trifle compared to what I would have paid for a genuine Armani.
My job takes me to East Asia regularly, even though I'm just a better clerk
and probably the flight attendants on the planes I fly with earn more than
I do.  Well, why disappoint her?  The symposium in Paris had been an
exception, but maybe I would be promoted, so who knows?
   The End