Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Lucia

   It had been Eugene's idea.  He was my best friend, although he was also
my best and of lately only customer.  With heaps of money and no mind for
work, he lived a life of leisure.  As I had done some good work for him, he
had decided to consider me his friend and let me partake a little in his
wealth.

   Eugene always had a good hand for parties.  However, unlike others in
his position, he preferred to invite to his parties more or less "normal"
people, mostly employees of the numerous companies that made up his
fortune. His parties usually had a theme.  He had arranged a beach party in
January in the huge greenhouse of the estate, including tons of sand, a
pool with salt water and even huge lamps that actually gifted some of the
more careless guests with a slight sunburn.  On another occasion he had
engaged an army of hairdressers and every guest had to dye her or his hair
bright red.

   This time it was supposed to be a "roaring twenties" party.  Eugene had
made provision for everybody to receive the desired costume at his expense.
Me, I chose a cutaway and I had combed back my hair with a lot of grease.
Somehow I felt I looked more like a waiter than a visitor of a speak-easy,
but I didn't care anyway.  Although for the first time in my life
financially independent, grace to Eugene's exceedingly generous payment for
the new audio system he found so superior to anything the market had to
offer, I felt a little weary of life in general.  Indeed I would have
preferred to stay home and watch a movie from my private collection, but it
would have upset Eugene.

   After a little tapping each other on the shoulder, the way Eugene always
greeted me, like to show me and anybody else how much he cared for me, I
sort of mingled with the crowd.  Most of them were standing around in pairs
or flocking up in groups of four or six.  I walked around to see what the
big hall looked like.  It must have cost Eugene a fortune to redecorate it
in the style of a hideaway joint.  Even the fake unplastered walls weren't
missing, making the place look like a storage room converted to a club. 
The men were smoking cigars and the women smoked from holders.  Eugene had,
like always, taken care of the smallest detail.  The drinks were served in
China instead of glasses.

   I decided to go to the bar for a drink, hoping that at least the drinks
wouldn't be realistic.  I knew well that during prohibition most of the
alcohol sold was of the poorest quality, often enough toxic.

   From where I stood I could see that the bar was almost deserted.  Only
one man was sitting there, his back towards me.  He wore a sort of tuxedo.
On his head he had a bowler, typical for the twenties.  His left hand
rested on the counter holding a big cigar, smoked down to less then half.
He had a really broad back and large buttocks, in short he was quite fat.

   While I walked up to the counter I saw him take the cigar to his mouth,
although, all I could see was his hand disappear.  It surprised me to
notice that instead of the drifting clouds that would appear when a man
would puff on his cigar, a long stream emerged from behind his head, the
proof he had inhaled the smoke.  Well, each to his own, I thought.

   I sat down a few stools away from him.  The bartender gave me the Scotch
I asked for and went to the other end to polish glasses or whatever it was
he did there.  I took a sip of the drink and it turned out to be a quite
exquisite private blend.  So Eugene's mimicry of the prohibition had it's
limits, thank God.  The warmth of the drink mellowed my gloomy disposition
a bit and for no reason I looked in the direction of Fatty, as I called him
by myself.

   The shock almost threw me off my stool.  Fatty was a woman!  As much as
I could make out from her profile, she was quite pretty, although her
features were softened up by her extra pounds.  Yet, she had beautiful blue
eyes and a well-shaped nose, small and delicate.  Her lips were of course
quite full and slightly upturned, but in a natural way, not with the help
of silicon or whatever some doctors used to enhance nature.  As I studied
her face, she took the cigar to her lips again and in a devastatingly sexy
way her lips engulfed the almost inch thick brown cylinder.  Her lips caved
in as she struggled to drag on it.  She allowed a bit of smoke to escape
around the cigar and then she dragged again, this time much longer.  Upon
opening her lips, she inhaled thoroughly, not letting the tiniest whiff of
smoke escape her mouth.  I could almost hear the satisfied sigh when she
exhaled.  This certainly wasn't the first cigar in her life, I said to
myself.  As she finished off the long stream of smoke, my eyes wondered
down.  Although half hidden by the jacket of her tuxedo, I could see
clearly that she had massive breasts, but that didn't surprise me.  Most
big women have breasts as big as their buttocks.

   My mind went reeling.  I must admit I had always had a hang on the big
ones.  Maybe it was nature's way of trying to keep the balance.  While well
over six feet, I'm a real lightweight, on the edge of being underweight but
I had always preferred the better stuffed ones.  In younger years I had
often been the subject of my friend's jokes, as they had noticed my
preference.  I even broke up a very promising affair with a girl because my
roommate laughed at me, saying: 'Man, she's so fat'.  Over the years I had
learned to rather avoid such friends than to deny my tastes.  Although, it
was hard to find a girl that matched my tastes, especially so as I
preferred smokers to nonsmokers.  The harder the woman smoked, the sexier
she seemed to me.

   Now this seemed to be the big occasion.  The woman next to me had all
the attributes.  She was big, had a nice face, wasn't too old, in her
twenties as it seemed, and she smoked.  And God how she smoked!  Inhaling
the smoke of that big Havana like it was a Marlboro Light!  I knew that
except she had brought her own cigars with her, it had to be a Havana, the
real stuff, big and strong.  Eugene had "imported" them directly from Cuba.
Only the best for Eugene and his guests, of course.

   My hands were already trembling with apprehension.  I had to make a move
or else I would spend the next days in a stupor, jerking off every hour
with the bitter taste of frustration on my lips.  Better to get it going
one way or another.  Maybe she had a shrill high voice that would cool me
off instantly, or she was a dumb broad.  Still, any of these alternatives
seemed better than not trying at all.

   I stood up and stepped over to her side.

   'Mind if I join you for a chat?' I asked

   She turned to me, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth in an
attempt not to "gift" me with it.  Now I could see the whole of her face
and I wasn't disappointed.  She looked just lovely, even beautiful.  Those
slightly chubby cheeks really gave her a sort of girlish look.  From the
little of her hair not covered by the bowler, I could see it was dark and
rich.  Despite her obvious passion for cigars, her complexion was perfect
even if a bit pale.

   'Hello there,' she said with just an idea of smile in the corner of her
mouth.  'I don't mind company, if the company doesn't mind the smoke.'

   'Well, I don't and even if, it's all over the place anyway.' I answered
quite truthfully and rather against good reason I added: 'You do seem to
enjoy that cigar, if you don't mind me saying so.'

   There's only one thing I love more than talking to women about their
smoking and that's the obvious one of course.  But more than once I found
that it could lead a woman to the idea that my interest in her smoking
wasn't just plain curiosity.  The result was always the same: I got dumped
as being a freak.  Well, not that it wasn't true in a way, but it did hurt.
I have sworn many times to be more careful, but there I was, making the
same mistake all over again.  Judging by her answer it seemed that she
didn't mind, though.

   'Yeah.  These are really good.  I don't smoke them all day, you know. 
They're kinda hard to come by, with the embargo and all.  Usually I smoke
Dominicans, smaller and not so strong.' she said and like to point it out,
she took one big drag, inhaling loudly and with half closed lids.  Her
breasts, lifted by her expanding chest, pushed aside jacket and vest.  I
couldn't help but stare.  The big nipples showed clearly though the fabric
of the shirt and there was no trace of a bra holding them.  Yet they looked
as firm as they were big, not sagging like cup G breasts usually do. 
Suddenly my pants were too tight for their content.

   "Well, I might as well enjoy them while I'm here.' she went on.  'Our
host's brandy is ex-qui-site too.  Mmm, I fear they'll have to carry me out
of here when I'm through with it.' and she laughed a deep gargling laugh.
Thank God she had the deep voice that suited her appearance.  I had met big
women in the past that had looked wonderful, but after the first word
spoken in a tiny girlish voice, I had lost all interest.  But I had to
concentrate a bit on the conversation, lest she would think I'm a moron.

   'Yes, Eugene doesn't look at the costs.  At least he can afford it.'

   'Right Mr., er, by the way, I'm Lucia.'

   she stretched out a hand, big of course, but still feminine.  Her grip
was pleasant, not sloppy but not overly firm either.

   'Oh, sorry.  I'm Joe.' and after I saw her raise one eyebrow: 'Yes, my
name really is Joe, or actually in my papers it says Josef, but nobody
calls me anything except Joe, so I am Joe, can't help it.'

   Lucia laughed, this time really from her heart.  Her laugh sounded good,
not overly laud and even the slight coughing and gargling didn't bother me.
Another point for her.

   'All right, funny Joe.  Looks like you don't really enjoy the party,
though, or has your girlfriend dumped you for another guest?'

   'Well, I came alone, but it seems everybody else came with a partner. 
Thank God I found you here.'

   'And a lot of good it does you too.' she added sarcastically, turning to
her mug.  She downed whatever it had held and knocked it down a few times
on the counter to attract the bartender's attention.  The guy came and
filled it up from a bottle.  She gulped down some more, like it was water.
If I hadn't been impressed already, I would have been now.  I love hard
drinking women, although I have mixed feelings about alcoholics.  My ideal
always was a woman who could drink two men under the table, without hanging
round the house drunk all day.

   'Why, what do you mean?' I asked, not sure where she aimed at.

   'Look buster, let's not kid ourselves.  I know how it is when a man,
drunk and desperate, makes a hit on me because he can't get anyone else. 
I'm not foolish enough to think I'm that much of a woman.'

   Now some women of the XL league I had met had been so foolish to think
they were attractive in a general way, which wasn't exactly true for the
average man on the street.  Other's had been complex-ridden and overly
grateful when a man showed interest.  This Lucia here surprised me a bit
with her cynical remark.

   'Pardon me, Miss, I'm sorry of I've put myself wrong.  I didn't mean to
imply...' well I did actually and had to find a way out of it.  so... 
'Besides, why think so low of yourself?  I mean, I find you very beautiful
and I can assure you I'm neither drunk nor desperate.'

   As an answer, she leant over and gave me a rather long and juice peck.
For an instant I thought felt the tip of her tongue in my cheek.

   'Thanks man.  Even if you were just polite, thanks anyway.  I know well
enough I'm just a big fat cow, smelly from my beloved cigars and often
enough reeking of booze, but it's good to hear a merciful lie once in a
while.'

   Now this was tricky.  I could go on telling her she was wrong, but that
might backfire and the more I would insist, the more she would feel
insulted.  If I stopped there, she would take my silence for a
confirmation, so I tried the middle way.  I prepared the way by drawing a
line down her cheek with the tip of my finger.  My hand then found its rest
on her knee.

   'Sweet Lucia.  I know we live in times when a lot of things are suddenly
considered bad, like smoking or drinking or even being a little bigger. 
Let me assure you, though, that there still are exceptions.  I don't know
about others, but me, I don't mind smoking or drinking, even if I don't do
much of either myself.  And believe me, I was absolutely sincere when I
told you are beautiful.  Believe it or not, I meant it.'

   Was it a shiver I felt under my hand?  Did my speech induce a bodily
reaction in her?  Nah, wishful thinking, I tried to cam myself down. 
Afraid I had overdone it I anxiously awaited her response.  The band that
plaid somewhere switched from the Charleston it had been playing to a
classical waltz.

   The silence between us grew awkward.  I felt that I had blown it.  Like
to confirm my impression, she turned away from me, but then I saw she had
just reached for the box of cigars on the counter.  With a sardonic smile
she turned to me, cigar between her lips and pushed a box of oversized
matches towards me.  I could almost read her thoughts.  'Let's see buster,
if you can cope with this.  You still hot on me when I light up a big fat
stinky cigar in your face?' Yes, even though she didn't say a word, it was
written all over her face in capitals.  Well, I'll teach you better than
that, I said to myself.  Without a word I took the matches, careful to
caress her hand slightly while doing so.  I took out too of them, knowing
that for a Torpedo like the one she sucked on, you needed a lot of flame to
light it properly.

   My dick felt like bursting.  Transfixed I watched her suck forcefully on
the cigar till it had a uniform glow.  Still staring into her eyes I blew
out the matches and dropped them into the ashtray.  She now sucked
forcefully in the cigar, breathing in through the nose at the same time. 
Then she removed it and inhaled the rest of the drag through her mouth. 
Still thinking she mocked on me, she blew a tiny kiss towards me and then
exhaled full force into my face.

   Without thinking, I leant over and touched her lips lightly with mine.
Her eyes widened.  Whatever reaction she had expected, it wasn't anything
like my kiss.  The band seemed to play a medley of Johann Strauss's waltzes
and had just started into The Blue Danube.  I had always had a secret
passion for the classical waltz, about the only dance I mastered reasonably
well.  Yes, I said to myself, this was it.  Not words, but a dance would
save the situation!  Let's hope she would want to.

   'Would the lady care for a dance?' I said, my question making her almost
choke on her drag.

   'Whohow, so you want to venture into a waltz with a walrus?' she said,
talking the strong flavor of the Havana into my face.  'I'd love to teach
you that lesson, but I've just lit this beauty here.'

   'Oh, well,' I said, 'I wouldn't want to stay in the way of your love
affair with that cigar, but I certainly wouldn't mind if you'd still give
me the honor.  It doesn't bother me at all if you smoke while dancing.'

   'Hah!' she exclaimed laughing.  'You bet I love this pleasure stick. 
But OK, I'll give you the doubtful pleasure if you insist.  You're lucky I
love to waltz.'

   So I took her elbow and we went to the dancing ring.  In the most
natural manner she took my hand in hers and we swayed away.  Under the palm
of my right hand I felt the surprisingly firm flesh of her waist.  With
every step I felt her thigh softly brushing mine.  My skin crawled and I
felt the goose pimples of emotion all over my body.  The wonderful rhythm
of the Viennese music carried me away while on and off I felt a hard nipple
brushing my chest when she inhaled the smoke of her cigar.

   I must admit that as eager I had been to dance with her, I had feared a
bit she would be heavy and clumsy at it, but it turned out she was as
light-footed as a woman half her size and weight.  Rarely had I found such
a perfect partner for a Waltz.

   The band played the last notes of the tune and then changed into a slow
one, a popular tear jerker from a movie, the twentyoddth one on the Titanic
disaster.  Even though I rarely admitted it, I had soft spot for this kind
of music.  Lucia seemed to like it too and forgetting her defiant attitude
of minutes ago, simply pressed against me, taking my leg between hers and
pressing my arms against her sides.  I felt both her palms on my shoulders,
wondering briefly where she had left the cigar.  I found the answer to it
when I felt her cheek against mine.  She had simply taken the cigar into
her mouth.

   My right hand now rested on the small of her back and the other on
between her shoulder blades.  How wonderful my hand sank into the softness
of her back!  I couldn't do anything against the rock hard swell in my
pants that pressed against her hip, nor did I want to.  Let it show my
arousal was genuine and not an attempt to make fun of her.

   Her huge breast almost drove the air out of lung each time she inhaled.
Never before did I enjoy a dance like this.  Only making love to her could
be better.  Carried away by the atmosphere I began to nibble at her ear.  I
felt her shudder with pleasure in my arms.  I made a plan to work my lips
up her cheek and reach her the corner of her mouth.  What would it be like
to squeeze my tongue in beside her cigar?  How could I make her suck on it
while I shared the feeling with her?

   But I had no luck.  The band stopped.  She did not let me go, but took
the cigar out and kissed me hard on my lips.  Although the kiss was
overwhelming, I sensed she wasn't exactly enjoying it.  My impression was
she wanted to prove what a bad idea it was to kiss her with the mouth full
of drivel from the cigar.  How could she know that I didn't mind, that I
actually found the taste and smell ravishingly sexy?

   'There, now you know what you'd be into.  Go find yourself a nice
slender girl and don't fuck around with my feelings.' she whispered and I
saw tears glitter in her eyes.  Then, pushing me slightly away, she walked
away quickly.  My feet seemed to be nailed to the floor.  I had believed
myself so near to success!

   With slouched shoulders I shuffled to the bar and for maybe the third
time in my life I got thoroughly drunk.  The rest of the night passed in a
blur.  Somebody brought me to bed in a guestroom of sorts.  On Eugene's
estate there were many little guesthouses.  It was early afternoon when the
throbbing in my head woke me up.  I drank the spiced tomato juice a caring
soul had prepared for me and without looking for Eugene I made my way
through the workers that were about to restore the initial state of the big
hall.

   Although I still had probably twice as much as alcohol in my veins than
the law allowed, I drove home with my own car.  I was lucky to arrive home
without any incident and passed the rest of the day swallowing Aspirin and
brooding over my bad luck.

   The idea came to me next morning.  As Eugene held his parties at least
twice a month, I would simply ask him to invite exactly the same guests
next time.  I didn't feel like describing Lucia to him.  Friends as we
were, we hadn't talked often about girls.  In fact I couldn't actually
recall having ever talked about girls at all.  I had no idea what his
tastes were.  He did a good job in keeping whatever private life he had out
of the papers and newsreels.  For all I knew he could be gay.

   As next morning he wanted me to check the one installation in his house
that hadn't yet been reworked by me, I took the opportunity to ask him
about his plans for the next party.

   'Well, I've been thinking about a transvestite party for quite a while.'
he said

   'Great!  The guests from the last time would simply switch clothes and
everybody would be happy.  Would save you a lot of money too.' I said, not
thinking of course of the practical side.  My idea was that the woman of my
dreams, Lucia, could use the same clothes she had worn the last time.  I
had no idea how she would look in a dress, but I knew she had looked
breathtakingly sexy in her tux.

   'Hey, men, you know you're right.  Screw the money, but the time factor
is crucial.  This way I won't have to wait for the completion of new
costumes.  And think how funny the girls would look in oversized suites,
while the dresses would burst open on the men.  Boy, you sure have a streak
of genius sometimes.  Good old Joe.'

   He was about to call for his secretary when I stopped him.

   'May I ask you something?'

   'You know you can, Joe, as long as you don't want all my money.' he said
laughing.

   'Well, I wondered if you could use the exact guest list from last time.'


   'Yeah sure, no problem.  The only one that really misbehaved was you, so
I still have to figure out if I'm gonna let you in.' this of course was
meant as joke.  His strict rule of never inviting somebody again if she or
he misbehaved didn't apply to me.  Besides, on the rare occasions I got
drunk I simply fell silent.  I wasn't the kind to make an ass out of me.

   'Right'o.' I said, happy he had taken it up so easily.  'And do me a
favor, please.  don't forget the use the same list.'

   'Yeah, yeah, I haven't forgotten.  Keen on someone, aren't we?  Well,
that's no problem of mine, but as far as I'm concerned, I'll be more than
happy to play cupid, as long as you don't ask me to hold the candle...  '

   And so it was settled.  The next days passed horribly slow.  I fell from
happy expectation into desperate longing then again into a gloomy
depression.  What if she wouldn't come?  What if she had a lover?  Or
worse, a husband and a bunch of kids?  What if she was gay?

   For days I buried in my lab.  Grace to Eugene's generosity, it was now
equipped with the best gear money could by.  I wanted to talk to Eugene
about turning it into a real business.  There weren't so many manufacturers
of really good sound equipment and I fancied myself to be able to rig
together amps better than anything on the market.  Even if only few men
really had the ear to hear the difference, still there were others like
Eugene, prepared to spend a lot of money if offered something really
special.  Well, it would have to wait.  Till the party, all I saw on the
screens of my computers or scopes was Lucia.

   I would daydream for hours, picturing myself in various poses with her
and I tried to imagine how her body would really look like naked.  With all
my desire for oversized beauties, I wasn't really a fan of big hunks of
flesh flopping all around a woman's sides and belly, but a few folds here
and there could look delicious.  As much as I had been able to feel in the
shortness of our dance, Lucia hadn't had and an exceedingly protruding
belly.  Another thing about her that drove me rabid with desire.  She
seemed to have the kind of round rump with just a soft slope down to her
pubic area and up under her breasts.  Maybe with age...  but I would have
to find her first, before making any kind of plans, even for the nearer
future.

   The last three days I spent alternating between quick rub-offs and
attempts of feverish work on the computer.

   I had long ago found out a very interesting fact about my "alternate
love life", meaning my masturbatory orgies in the times I had no lover,
times that unfortunately prevailed lately.  When I had fallen for a girl
but had not yet reached the point to share her bed, I could never use her
image when I jerked off.  I would think of unknown beauties from the
street, inventing smoking habits for them, or of a foggy future wife,
sometimes movie stars, but it didn't work with the image of a girl I cared
for.  Never!

   That this now happened with Lucia, told me one thing.  I wasn't just hot
on her.  Whether or not she would prove to be the person I saw in her, I
couldn't say, but I fancied myself to have seen a shade of a personality
behind her impressive outside.  A sense of humor, modesty, but also warmth
and a bit of a smug attitude, paired with a robust personality.

   The party came and passed and I was crushed.  She hadn't shown up.  What
else was there to do than get drunk again?  I sat there at the bar in the
fancy dress Eugene had chosen for me, feeling stupid and ridiculous. 
Everybody else had a partner, except me and maybe Eugene of whom I wasn't
sure.  At least this time I preserved enough of my consciousness to find my
way alone to the room Eugene had assigned to me.  The nausea that followed
my drunken state, and the hangover that started even before I fall into a
pain filled slumber, made me swear I wouldn't do this again, no matter what
would happen.

   I didn't see Eugene till two weeks later.

   'Hey, Joe, what's up?  Did you lock in with your mysterious beauty the
past two weeks?  You disappeared pretty soon from the party.'

   'I wish you were right, but dammit, she didn't show up.  No, I've just
been busy with my new project, the Superboomer.'

   'Whoah!  How can that be?  I've been pretty certain she must have been
there.  All the cards have been returned, so nobody was missing.'

   'Well, I don't know, but she sure as hell wasn't there.  Maybe she saw
me and fled.  What do I know?' the thought had come to me that minute. 
What if she really didn't want to meet me again?

   True, I had tried to find her and I doubt a woman of her figure could
have escaped me easily, but on the other hand given the mere size of the
place it couldn't have been too difficult to deliberately avoid me.  Damn!

   'That must be it.  If you say everybody came, then she didn't want to
meet me again.  Karma!' I said.

   And that was that.  At least within the week I had Superboomer ready to
become reality.  If it would prove to be only half as good as the
simulation claimed, I would for the first time have a design not only
excellent but also suited for a larger scale manufacturing.  All my
previous designs had suffered from the fact that they needed intricate
trimming.  Yet, the satisfaction of having my first really good design on
hands was shadowed by my longing for Lucia.  I had grown an obsession with
her.  I grew haggard and bitter.

   Eugene called me up to see the progress of "Super" as he called it.  He
loved to see my products in the early stage, scraped up on a sheet of
aluminum with wires hanging all around.  His knowledge of electronics was
rather limited, but he had learned a lot from me and as much as I loved to
lecture him, as much did he love to listen.

   For an hour or so we both sat there rejoicing on the immaculate behavior
of the prototype.  It was too early for a real test with genuine speakers,
but the measurements with the dummy looked spectacular.  Yet, to me it was
a bitter success.  How would I ever find Lucia?  It was Eugene who in the
end delivered the clue and for an instant I felt like clubbing him, as he
had known it all along, although it was my fault too, as I had been too
reluctant to give him details.

   'So no trace of your adored one?' he asked with a tone that should have
warned me.

   'No, how could she.  I didn't give her even my full name, much less my
number and neither did she.  I must have scared her off somehow.'

   'Yeah, maybe, but how?  You never gave me the impression of being the
kind of dumb womanizer.' he asked and I should have noticed by now, he
already knew a bit more than I thought.

   'Maybe, but I have to make a confession to you.  I don't like to admit
it easily, as I've been laughed at often enough.  Err, well, my secret is
that I love the big ones, you know, BBW as they are called in the scene.'

   Eugene started to laugh.  I grew sad.  He didn't understand.  But then
he gave me a hug.

   'Men, Joe, if I were gay, I would love you for your innocence.  Don't
worry I'm not laughing at you for your BBW thing.  Heaven forbid, my
love-life isn't that straight either, so I'm in no position to mock on
others.  No, I laughed because if you had told me that in the first place,
I could have spared you of a lot of grief.  But then I would have waited a
long time for Mr.  Super here.'

   I stared at him in disbelief.  Could it be he knew Lucia?  Who was she
then?  How long did he know the answer?  The bastard had left me to boil in
my own juices.

   'Hey, don't look at me like you wanna stab me.  I only have a hunch.  It
came to me yesterday when I talked to my cousin.'

   'I didn't even know you had a cousin.  Who's he?'

   'You wouldn't know about my cousin, 'cause SHE's been away most of the
last year.  Poor Lucy.  You see it never occurred to me you were interested
in her.  And she's the only one who doesn't need an invitation to my
parties.  She just comes or not as it pleases her.  I mean she's part of
the family so I had completely forgotten about her' my heart stopped.  Lucy
- Lucia?

   'Why, what's the matter with her?' I asked, scared I might hear
something that would ruin any chance of meeting her again.

   'Oh well, I think you know her a little.  She's really complex-ridden
for her weight problem.  She's been a bit oversized all her life.  She's
quite healthy, except for her passion for tobacco and she never ate
exceedingly much.  Something with her glands, the doctors say, more like
she's been designed to grow bigger and stronger.  Still she has her fits of
trying to skim down a little.  Till a few weeks ago she's been on a beauty
farm of sorts, but apparently all it did to her was gain a few pounds even
if mostly muscles.  Everybody tells her she would find a man in time who
will love her the way she is, but she won't listen.'

   All of the sudden my heart raced.  I wanted to shout out loud LUCIA! 
But it wouldn't do.  As best as I could, I controlled myself.

   'Eugene, my best friend, do you think you could...' was the best I could
squeeze out between my shaking teeth.

   'Woah!  Men it's a hitten you hard!  All right, all right, I'll see what
I can do, but it might be a bit difficult.  I know her well enough.  Know
what?  I guess the best thing would be to set up a surprise date.  I'll
call her up and ask her to visit me.' he clapped his knee like in sudden
revelation.  'Hey, I know the bait!  She's an audio-fan herself and she
sure will want to see the "Whisperer".  I almost forgot she doesn't even
know about all that miraculous gear you sat up for me.  I'll simply say the
engineer who built it drops by too.  That'll make her come for sure.'

   ****

   How I managed to put my clothes on the right way, I don't know.  My hair
was a mess as I didn't care to dry it after the shower and I cut myself
twice while shaving, luckily close to my beard so it didn't show.

   With no conscious memory as how I arrived there and half an hour early
too, I entered the "little" library, where Eugene had made me install my
first creation for him.  Half of one wall was covered by a huge rack
containing an oversized record player, a prototype he had managed to obtain
from a company that had never turned it into a real product.  It was a
turntable of unique design.  Instead of a needle it used a laser-beam to
read the vinyl-disks.  Thus the disks wouldn't wear out, maintaining their
crystal-clear quality till the vinyl material itself degraded, no matter
how often one played the record.  Huge speakers were built into the walls
using concrete instead of wood or plastic for the enclosure.  This had been
my contribution together with the amp, the first one I had built for him.

   The door opened and Eugene stepped in.

   'Hi man,' he said, 'She'll be here any minute now.'

   He shuffled through the pile of records on a shelf under the turntable
and decided for some piano music, sort of a bar music compilation,
classical stuff mixed with evergreens, played by a guy more popular in
Europe, Richard Clayderman.  He wasn't a real piano virtuoso, but he had a
nice way of playing, sort of removing the edge from classical parts to make
them more fluid in a way, more pleasant to the untrained ear.

   The transfixed expression on Eugene's face told me that he once more
absorbed the wonderful sound quality of the gear, more than the music as
such.  He had his eyes closed and I could see him silently hum the tune.

   A faint smell of perfume mixed with a trace of smoke passed my nose. 
Before I had time to realize what it meant, I heard a loud voice, deep and
slightly raspy with a very familiar ring to it directly over my head.

   'Isn't a nice girl worth a drink in this house?  Hi everybody by the
way.'

   Eugene sprang to his feet and I rose slowly with shaking knees.  Slowly
I turned around.  With a bustier that could hardly hold here devastatingly
sexy cleavage and some tight knee-length pants, she looked so
breathtakingly sweet and sexy, I could hardly look into her eyes.  I
realized, though, that her hair was dark red rather then black as it had
seemed in the dim light of that party.  Even her eyes looked different,
more green than blue.  With her hair loosely around her face she looked
even better and without heavy make-up, much younger.

   I would have taken her into my arms and kissed her till she would faint
for lack of air, but the expression on her face stopped me.

   'YOU!' she exclaimed.  Then, addressing Eugene: 'What is this, some kind
of a joke?'

   'Oh c'mon, Lucy, this is Joe, the genius that has wired the whole house
single handed.  I told you about him'

   'Is that true?' She asked, a little softer now.  'All right, I guess I
owe you an apology.  But keep your hands off me, buster.  No sweet talk,
OK? You're lucky I can't think low of a guy who has such magical fingers
and the brain to use them right.  From what Eugene told me, you're sort of
an Edison with audio-stuff.'

   Torn apart between my desire for her and the disappointment about her
reaction, I managed to mumble:

   'Wish I were a second Edison.  Except for Eugene here, not many seem to
appreciate my work.  I couldn't even find an investor to make something of
it.  Most people can't here the difference anyway.'

   'Well, Lucy, I guess a demonstration will tell if he's a genius or not.
What shall it be?' Eugene interrupted my speech.

   'Is this rig better for rock or classic?' Lucy asked, showing she did
know a bit about the matter.  While most speakers and amps do show better
performance with one or the other type of music, the "rig" as she had
called it, had a switch to change the characteristic, the best solution I
had been able to find at that time.

   'Whatever you want.  It's switchable.' Eugene said.

   'No kidding?  Do you have two stages in there?'

   She meant of course two separate amps, each for one type of music.

   'No.  It's the output stage itself that can be switched.' I answered
instead of Eugene.  I hoped to engage her in a conversation, a thing she
had obviously been reluctant to do.

   While she seemed to ponder my answer, she groped around in the small bag
she had with her and her hand appeared with a cigar, a smaller one and a
short holder designed for that kind of cigars.  She bit off the end of it,
without caring for a knife or puncher.  While this would seem quite a gross
way of cutting the end of a cigar, I found it cute in a way.  As she would
confess later on, it wasn't her way of doing it.  She had just decided to
shock me a little.

   With the lit cigar she pointed her words, talking the smoke towards me.

   'And is it a secret how you do it?  Do you simply change the amount of
feedback?  Or the quiescent current?'

   I couldn't tell if she used just terms she had heard of or really knew
what she was talking about.  I decided to take her for face value.

   'Well, it's a bit trickier than that.  What I actually do is include or
exclude the final stage from the feedback loop of the driver.  I've tried
to use a potentiometer to make it adjustable, but the stability problems
were more than I could handle, so I gave it up.  Even in the simulation I
couldn't get it right.'

   Now I could see I had raised her interest.  She began her sentence with
a drag on her cigar.  God, did she look cute!  And I wasn't allowed to
touch her!  But I had to make the best of it.  Maybe the detour through the
mystical humdrum of fine electronic art could do what sweet talk couldn't.

   'Wow, the first guy who knows what he's talking about.  I've met some of
the top notch Hi-Fi gurus, but compared to you they talked gibberish most
of the time.  Like I was a dumb rich broad that couldn't hold apart a valve
from a transistor.  A simulation!  When I asked the guy from Nelson's labs
about what simulation he used, he looked at me like I had called him
shithead.' Yes, now I actually saw a smile on her lips.  Her eyes had
softened up too.

   'Hey Eugene, why don't you play some Jazz?  Let's see if this rig can
drive your ribbons the right way.  How about "Take Five"?'

   She referred to the ribbon speakers Eugene used.  He had bought them
before we met, but he kept repeating that without the drivers from me they
had never sounded good enough for their price.

   Now I love that piece of Dave Brubeck dearly, so it made me happy that
Lucia liked it too.  The marvelous piano syncope with it's slight crescendo
filled the room.  Eugene had turned the volume up just enough to make it
sound like the combo was playing right under our nose.  When the sax sat
in, I always imagined how it would be to have on orgasm right then.  Not
that I had ever met a girl who would even tolerate this kind of music.  I
watched Lucia how she enjoyed the music.  She had tilted her head back on
the rim of the couch she was sitting on and every time she took a drag from
her cigar holding it up in the air and then, when her big chest expanded,
dangerously stretching the seams of her bodice, her breasts about to pop
out of it, the pain in my throbbing, bursting dick grew almost unbearable.
It didn't help that I could see the rims of her nipples show above the cups
of the bodice.

   'Wow, wow, wow.  You almost deserve a kiss from me, for the delicacy of
the trebles.  God, I could count the hairs on the brush.  Phew!  That was
fantastic.  No question.  She can do the Jazz.  Why the fuck don't my
ribbons sound like that!'

   Well, close, but not yet close enough I said to myself.

   As if Eugene had read my thoughts, he said:

   'Wait till you hear some classic, Lucy!'

   He swapped the disk for another one.  As my eyes were glued to the
wonderful face of Lucy, I hadn't looked at the cover of the record.  Too
alluring was the sight of her savoring the cigar.  Even the smell was
surprisingly mellow.  But of course my perception of it was biased by my
arousal.  Then as I heard the first measures of what turned out to be the
very waltz I had danced with Lucia, my heart raced.  My palms itched and
the urge to hold her once again in my arms grew almost unbearable.

   Slowly she became aware of the music.  The way she now double-pumped on
her cigar blowing huge clouds of thick smoke across the table towards me,
made me realize that she wasn't indifferent to it.  Her eyes swam and I saw
something in them that couldn't be but love.

   The awakening came with a blow.  With a muted curse towards Eugene she
rose and fled the room.

   'Wham!' was Eugene's reaction.  'There she goes.  Sorry, Joe, didn't
work out.  I had hopes for you too and when you started into tech-talk I
thought you two were getting somewhere, but playing that music sure was a
mistake.'

   'Thanks anyway, pal.' I said, 'you did your best.  After all you
couldn't know that was what danced to.'

   'Well, not much to do about it now, I fear.  I will have to see what I
can do the next days.  I know her.  There's still hope.'

   I could see he felt guilty, but I couldn't blame him.

   After a sleepless night filled with a mixture of bitter regrets and
utopistic dreams of Lucia and me united as a couple, the morning brought me
a tiny hope.  Lucia called me on the phone.  Her voice sounded rather stern
and far from any kind of tenderness, but still she wanted me to pay her a
visit, to talk about her own sound equipment and maybe about venture
capital she might want to invest in my little business and turn it into a
real one.

   On a hunch I called Eugene and he agreed to come over.  I just wanted to
prepare for my visit.  I needed to know as much as possible about Lucia and
why she reacted that way.

   'Oh well,' Eugene said after hearing my question.  'My beloved cousin
Lucy sure is a difficult case.  The one thing she fears most is that some
bastard takes advantage of her.  She had one traumatic experience a few
years back.  There was a guy who made a hit on her.  She was pretty
cautious but in the end she fell for him.  Now the guy kept telling her how
much he loved her and how sexy she was and poor Lucy started to believe it.


   Then one day she overheard a conversation between the guy and a friend
of his.  To make along story short, the guy made fun of her in the ugliest
way.  He called her a fat ugly cow and said that he had to watch a porn
each time he wanted to fuck her, else he wouldn't get a hard on.  He also
complained about her stinky breath.  She wasn't smoking cigars back then,
just plain Camels non-filter, but a lot.  The last thing she heard was that
the guy was only after her money.  That was too much and she stomped in and
with one hit of her fist she broke the guy's jaw.  Well, he got money out
of it, to silence him and keep Lucy's record clean, but he also lost some
teeth, so he got his share.  Anyway she had a shock and for a while she
really suffered.  That's when she started on cigars.  She said that if she
had a stinky breath, she would at least smoke what she liked best.  She had
never touched alcohol before, but I've seen her drunk often in that time.
At least somehow she escaped alcoholism and she doesn't drink that much
these days, but still, she loves to load heavy now and then.  '

   'I wish I had known that before I met her.  Although, I'm not that good
at acting and if she won't have me the way I am, there's not much I can do
about it.' I said, on the point of resignation.

   I understood her much better now.  As unfair as it was to earn the
benefit of some other guy's stupidity, what could I do?

   'Now, hold on, man.  Things aren't over yet.  Be assured she fell for
you too.  I've haven't seen her like that ever since the incident with that
jerk.  I think by now she has figured you out enough to know you're of a
totally different caliber.  It's more of a reflex that makes her recoil.'

   That sounded almost too good to be true.

   'You think so?  And what am I supposed to do?'

   'Be nice and friendly, but careful!  Let her feel that you care for her,
but without an attempt to break into her defense.  Brute force won't help
with her.'

   Minding his words, but without a clue on how to follow them, I packed my
gear and drove to the address she had given me.  Following her directions I
drove up to the gate leading to an underground parking below an old block
on top of which she had her "town house".  The guard checked my driving
license and opened the gate.  I drove to the slots reserved for her guests
and took the private elevator using the card the guard had handed me out.

   Lucia wore a simple red t-shirt and a hot mini-skirt.  Whatever her
attitude towards me, she had dressed in the most sexy way.  Except maybe
for the tuxedo she had worn when I had first met her.  Under the shirt her
breasts outlined almost as if the shirt was wet.  Once more I couldn't but
admire the beauty of them.  Her knees, though strong as befitted a body
like hers, were nicely shaped, screaming for a hand, my hand, to caress
them.  Her calves were strong but beautiful too.

   'Seen enough?' she said sarcastically, warning me she hadn't changed her
mind.  'Maybe you can pack out your gear then and start your hocus-pocus.'

   Luckily I had managed to keep the lid on my feelings somewhat.  That I
was there for work helped.  I started to unpack and placed the mikes all
over the huge living room.  The computer was up by the time, so after I
plugged a cable into her stereo I started the measuring sequence.  With a
wave of my hand I signaled we should leave the room.

   It was a nice day and so she led me to a terrace with a fantastic view
on the skyline of the city.  The dent where the twin towers had been only
month earlier, still made me twitch each time I looked that way and
realized they were gone.

   Inevitably she lit a cigar of hers and for a while we sat there in
silence.

   'How long will it take?' she asked, referring to the measurement.

   'Twenty minutes.'

   She laughed and said:

   'Just right for the length of one of my cigars.' and then, after a hefty
drag: 'How come you don't mind my smoking?  I mean my breath must smell
something awful and the smoke isn't better.  I mean you don't even smoke
yourself.  Still, at the party you seemed not to mind.  Or have you lost
your sense of smell?'

   Now she had me cornered.  What was I supposed to tell her?  To her ears
it must sound crazy, but any other answer except the truth would turn me
into a liar, a pretender in her eyes.  I swallowed hard and cursing me and
my fetish, as I feared she would kick me out immediately, I said simply:

   'I fear I have a bit of a fetish for cigar smoking women.  That makes me
like the smell.'

   The stare I earned seemed to confirm my worst fears.  But then she did a
strange thing.  She offered me the cigar, saying:

   'Is this what you're after?  Is this the object of your worship?  What
you need to have an orgasm?  Then take it and leave me alone.'

   I could tell that her question was meant in earnest.  She really seemed
to believe I was that kind of fetishist.  Well, true enough, love with a
nonsmoker wasn't the same to me than with a smoker, but I had spent nights
with nonsmokers and the sex had been almost as good as with smokers.  But
how to make it clear to her?

   'Please keep it.  I'm sorry I even mentioned it.  You see, I'm not the
kind of fetisher like in the books.  What made me chose this epithet for me
is that my arousal multiplies if I watch a woman smoke.  She HAS to appeal
to me in the first place and I can find a non-smoking woman equally
attractive, or to be more precise, almost equally attractive.' I said in an
effort to explain it as best as I could.

   Lucia surprised me by showing a little smile.

   'Good,' she said, 'I feared you were after my cigars and not after me. I
can live with that, only I warn you, there are times when I'm in the mood
for other kinds of smoking than cigars.  I have quite an assortment of
pipes and now and then I still smoke cigarettes, you know.'

   'As if that mattered.  As long as what comes from your lips is tobacco
smoke, I don't mind and a bit of Mary-Jane won't hurt no one either'

   In a way I liked the turn our conversation had taken.  We were talking
like we were about to become lovers, like she was about to establish the
rules of our relationship.

   'And there's one other thing I must warn you about.' she continued,
puffing smoke with every word.  'Don't complain if I choke you when I roll
over you in my sleep.  If you wanna sleep in the same bed with me, fine,
but it'll be at your own risk.'

   'Well, that's the chance a guy has to take if he really loves
full-bodied women.' I replied before I had time to ponder her words.  I
didn't know what to make of it.  Now she talked of sleeping over and we
hadn't even kissed.  Then I saw the corner of her mouth twitch and it came
to me out of the blue.  She was making fun of me!  It was her way of
saying: 'hey, you got me, take me.  I'm not afraid any more that you're a
fraud.' What she actually said was:

   'Well, that's settled then.  Will you sit there forever?  Move your ass
over here and prove it!  You want money for a little enterprise?  Earn it!'
and she ruined our kiss with her laughing fit, but I didn't mind.  There
was enough of her to kiss beside her lips.

   The End