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

   A homage to the great Alfred Hitchcock

   Greg sat on the bench near the grave.  He lit a cigarette and placed it
into the holder that was attached to the gravestone.  Then he took another
cigarette for himself.  He had done this almost every day of the past year,
ever since Rita had died.  It was like he would try to conjure the times
she would smoke for him.  A tear escaped from his eye.  He dragged heavily
on his cigarette trying to imagine what she had felt when smoking.  He had
taken up smoking after the funeral.  It was like he wanted to smoke as her
substitute.  He missed her so badly!  They had just one short year.  After
his divorce he had made a vow never to get involved with a woman again. 
Serena had all but broken his heart but then he had gotten over it somehow.
For many years he had avoided to get close to any of the countless women he
dated, sometimes even two at a time.  Then Rita had come his way.  They had
bumped into each other in the food court of the local mall, ruining each
other's meal.  She had started to laugh and he had joined in.  That was the
moment he had fallen in love with her.  They had left the mall together and
she had become his lover the same day.  It had never been that way with
Serena, not even in the beginning when he thought he was in love with her.
With Rita it had been like he had known her all his life.  From the first
day each could finish the others sentences like they could read each
other's minds.  Sex with Rita had been unique in many ways.  Unlike with
any other woman, one sniff at her skin would instantly turn him on.  When
he talked to her over the phone he often had a hard one.  Even the way she
moved had something sensual.  What had surprised him was that she felt the
same about him.  One kiss and she was wet. But that was over now.  He felt
dead inside.  The only thing that he had left were the cigarettes he now
smoked in her place.  As a symbolic act he always left a cigarette to burn
down in the holder on her grave.  Not that she had been a heavy smoker. 
No, on the contrary, she smoked only occasionally.  Sometimes she wouldn't
touch a cigarette for days and then again she would use smoking as in
instrument to...  God, he grew hard just thinking about it.  How she had
know to turn him on by playing the vamp.  The cute unsophisticated country
girl out of a sudden looked like a man-eater.  He would go home and smoking
a cigarette to remember the taste she had left on his mouth on such
occasions and he would jerk off and cry while doing it.  He did that every
time after he had been to her grave. His reverie was interrupted out of a
sudden.  He heard a voice before his vision got into focus again. 'Excuse
me, but I've seen you smoke.  Could you please give me a light?  My lighter
has ran out of gas.' It was a warm low voice belonging to a woman standing
near his bench.  He looked up.  She had an elegant coat that looked quite
expensive.  A scarf covered her dark hair and she wore big sunglasses
hiding most of her face.  All he could see was a high forehead, a thin
straight nose, slightly upturned at the end and a heart shaped mouth with
rich lips discreetly painted in a shade of dark red.  Something in her
poise struck him as vaguely familiar but he dismissed it as unimportant. 
She held a long cork tipped cigarette between her fingers.  He stood up and
produced his disposable and after lighting it tentatively to see whether
the flame wasn't too small or too big her offered her the light.  She took
the cigarette to her lips and after a small puff to get it going she took a
long drag that made her already hollow cheeks cave in more.  She had an
interesting way of clenching the cigarette with her full lips so that it
pointed slightly upwards and to one side.  She even parted her fingers
slightly while dragging so that the cigarette was held only by her lips. 
Her inhale was short but thorough.  He could see her chest expand while she
sucked in all the smoke.  After a few seconds two thin streams escaped her
nose.  Then she pouched her lips and blew out an endless stream of rich
creamy smoke joined by two thinner ones from her nose creating little
turbulences.  An absolutely stunning performance!  Against his will Greg
was impressed.  One would rarely see such an exquisite display of smoking
style.  A long forgotten feeling rose in him.  He was ashamed of himself
that here on the grave of Rita he would feel something like that for
another woman, the more so as he had never felt such a deep frizzling
arousal with her.  In fact he hadn't really felt this kind hot excitement
for a very long time.  Serena had had that effect on him but only at the
beginning of their relationship.  It had been one of the reasons he had
married her in the first place.  All thru three years of frustration he had
hoped to find that again but in vain.  Only Rita had showed him that the
soul mattered as much in a relationship as the body.  He realized that he
was still standing in front of her without saying a word.  He asked her if
she wanted sit there with him on the bench.  She nodded and they sat down.
In the past year he had grown quite sloppy with his clothes.  He had no
mind for shopping and without Rita who had always helped him with his
wardrobe he it was no fun at all.  He kept clean of course as he hated
dirty clothes but he didn't care what he was wearing.  Mostly, like today,
he would were some battered jeans and an old bleached out t-shirt with a
simple black windcheater made of plastic.  His sneakers had cracks and the
sole was beginning to come off on one side.  In a word he looked almost
like a hobo except he didn't smell.  As it was becoming a little awkward to
sit there without a word, he decided it was time for a conversation. 
Something drove him not to let the woman leave that had popped out of the
blue. 'Are you visiting someone here?  A relative?' 'Not a relative, just
an old friend.  Was she your wife?' she asked in an even emotionless voice.
'You were a friend of Rita's then.  No we weren't married.  We should have
but I was cautious after one failed marriage and then it was too late.' He
was surprised to find out Rita had a friend.  To him she had always said
that she had no close friends of either gender and that he, Greg, made up
for it.  She had often flattered him by telling him that he had sensitivity
almost like a woman.  She sometimes said that was what had tied her most to
him.  That he could far better understand her feelings than any other man
she had known before. 'I'm sorry to hear that.' The woman said.  'I haven't
seen her she met you.  I've been away and now I found out what happened. 
I'm so sorry.  Let me give you my deepest sympathy.' She extended one hand
and then she leant over and gave him a very light peck on his cheek more
like a breeze.  For a brief moment he could smell her exquisite perfume
mixed with the smoke from her cigarette, a divine fragrance.  She had a
fantastic taste for perfumes, he thought.  This one was very exotic ad
heavy.  Under other circumstances this perfume alone would have made him
give it a try.  Rita had also had a taste for exquisite perfumes.  When it
came to clothes she had the kind of silhouette anything would look good on
her.  So she didn't need to by expensive clothes but she spent a lot of
money on imported perfumes.  She would change them often but she always
smelled wonderful.  Yet this lady here used one he had never smelt on Rita.
The lady interrupted his line of thoughts again. 'You must have loved her
very much.' 'Yes' was all he could say before the pain closed his throat.
To get himself together he lit another cigarette.  From the corner of his
eye he could see how she smoked, each drag deep and thorough.  He heard the
sigh of her inhale and the slight hiss she made when exhaling.  That woman
sure did impress him.  Then she turned to him and said: 'Excuse me, but I
forgot to introduce myself.  I'm Madeleine Barton.  You must be Greg
Palmer, I suppose.' She extended her hand.  'Yes, I am.  Or used to be. 
Now there's not much left of Greg Palmer any more.' He said while taking
her hand in his.  She had a very light touch.  Again her perfume combined
with the cigarette smoke she emanated while talking hit him.  So there was
still life within his dead shell.  But it didn't matter.  'I'm truly sorry.
It has been a blow for all of us but I can see now that no one can measure
your pain.  One may be inclined to doubt that people are still capable of
such intense feelings these days.  Most of the time they mistake sex for
love.' He heard true compassion on her voice.  She seemed to really grasp
his pain somehow.  Or maybe she knew from her own experience... 'Pardon me
for asking but I get the feeling you are also familiar...' he left it open,
not sure how she would react.  Her answer was preceded by a much longer
drag on her cigarette and when she spoke she kept puffing smoke. 'Yes, you
may say so.  Just about the same time she passed away I too have suffered a
great loss.  But let's not talk about it.  I was thinking about something.'
She paused to squash out her cigarette with one of her stiletto heels.  She
had very expensive and elegant shoes on, more fit for a night at the opera
or a ball than for a visit to a graveyard.  It struck him that she looked
like out of an old movie from the sixties where women always dressed like
that.  She took another cigarette out of her purse and he offered her a
light again.  Then she went on talking: 'I wonder if you could bring up
some time to tell me more about Rita.  Of course only if it doesn't hurt
you too much.  Maybe we can go to a more comfortable place.  I know a new
Italian coffee shop that has a backroom were you can still smoke.' He
pondered the idea for a while.  It would be painful but against his will
this strange woman that seemed to have come from another time fascinated
him.  So almost against his will he agreed. 'Yes I would like to.  Truth is
I have never met a friend of hers before.  Only I'm afraid I'm not dressed
for a public place.  Would you mind if me meet in an hour there?  I want to
go home and change.' She raised her head in surprise and started to talk
but whatever it was she wanted to say she changed her mind. 'All right
then. In an hour.  Do you know where the shop is?  I'll meet you there.'
Was what she said instead. 'Yes I know the one.  It's called "Tutto Caffee"
or something.' 'Tutto il Caffee, yes.  So then I'll be seeing you.'

   He ran home to his little apartment not far from the cemetery.  Soon
after Rita was gone he had lost his job.  In fact he had given it up but he
had just outran his boss on it.  He would have been fired anyway as he
wasn't fit for work any more.  So he sold the house and moved into a cheap
little apartment.  He had gotten some money from the life insurance and if
he kept living at a low level the revenue from the money ha had put aside
and the insurance money would just be enough to provide him with bare
necessities.  He had no need for a car any more and except for the
cigarettes he only spent money on the rent and food.  The only person he
had really enjoyed talking to was gone.  Home again, if he could call that
place home, after a quick shower and a shave, he changed into some trousers
from a better time and a polo.  He had one jacket left he thought halfways
suited for the occasion.  He knew the polo didn't favor him with his slight
stoop but he had taken to wearing only drip-dry stuff so real shirts were
out.  He had to search for a while to find his only pair of leather shoes.
He wore only sneakers normally and in the summer slippers.  Most of his
better stuff had gone to the Salvation Army together with her things. He
arrived at the shop two minutes late.  She was already there tapping
nervously on the counter. 'I'm terribly sorry I got late.' She turned
around and he saw a tiny smile on her lips.  She still wore the same scarf
and glasses so he could not see her eyes. 'Oh, no you're not.  I wasn't
even expecting you so...  Never mind.  I'm glad you're here.  Shall we go
to the backroom?' He followed her to a door somewhere between kitchen and
restrooms.  It had a sign "Private" on it.  As she opened the door he could
smell the stale smoke inside.  There were four tables, one in every corner
of the room.  She chose a table away from the single window and sat with
her back to it.  The owner of the shop came in and asked for their order.
'I'll take a double espresso and a grappa to go with it.' 'And you?' he
asked Greg with a heavy Italian accent ' 'I'll have a cappuccino, thank
you.' The owner left them alone.  The woman took out a pack of Newport
menthols and offered Greg one.  He declined taking out his own Marlboro
lights.  After lighting her cigarette she said: 'You can call me
Madeleine.' Greg offered his first name too of course.  He watched her
smoke.  Both were a little shy.  Her exquisite smoking style really touched
something in him.  To his own surprise he found himself at the old game of
imagining how she might look under her coat and how it would be to kiss
her. He hadn't felt like that for two years.  In the first year of the two,
Rita had attracted upon her all his sexual energy.  He lost all interest in
any woman he might see.  Then, after her death, he had turned to stone
emotionally.  But this woman, Madeleine, had touched something in him that
hadn't been really as dead as he had thought.  And there was another thing.
Her sexy attitude when smoking wasn't the only thing he found attractive on
her.  There was something else.  He hadn't even seen all of her face but
somehow he was sure she was really beautiful.  'Why don't you take off your
glasses?  It's pretty dark in here' he asked her.  'It's, well because...
Oh, what the heck.  You may as well see it.' She answered with
determination.  She took off her glasses and tossed them on the table.  As
she was sitting with her back to the window at first he couldn't see much.
'I'm afraid I can't see nothing except a pair of beautiful eyes.' He said
truthfully. 'Yes, they have been beautiful once, so I've been told, but
look at them now with all those scars.  I feel so ugly with them.' He took
a closer look and could indeed make out two little lines starting from her
left eye to her temple but they were hardly visible.  He found they didn't
really impair the beauty of her face, as she was indeed exceptionally
beautiful.  But the he looked closer at her eyes.  It was almost...  But
no, that wasn't possible.  A mere coincidence, no more. 'Look Madeleine,
don't get me wrong.  I don't want to flatter you.  I can hardly see those
scars and you do not in any way look ugly.' She actually blushed.  It
didn't show much under her tan but he had seen the expression on her face
change.  With a tiny smile she said: 'Thank you Greg.  It sounds nice from
you.  But I didn't come here to fish for compliments from you.  I would
like you to tell me more about Rita.' She took a nervous drag on her
cigarette making the cherry of her cigarette extend to at least of a third
of an inch.  'If it isn't too painful that is.' She added, puffing smoke
while she talked.  Looking at this beautiful woman smoking like that and
talking with that low husky voice had started to work on him.  He felt a
little guilty because he was betraying Rita.  But then she was no more. 
This sobered him up.  He tried to concentrate a little on their
conversation.  As the owner brought them the coffee and Madeleine's drink
he was given a little time to gather his thoughts.  Greg added some sugar
to his coffee from the dispenser on the table.  Madeleine had already taken
a sip from her cup obviously needing no sugar.  'You like your coffee
strong and black as I can see.' He said in an attempt to delay the moment
he would have to speak about Rita. 'Yes.  In fact I love other things pure
and strong too.  Reminds me of something.  These menthols don't go well
with real coffee.' While saying this she stubbed her half smoked cigarette
out and took a blue box out of her purse.  Only after she opened it and
took out a filterless cigarette did Greg realize it was a cigarette box. 
Something foreign he thought.  Like reading his mind she said: 'These are
French cigarettes, Gitanes.  I took a liking to them some time ago even if
it's pretty hard to get them.  Sometimes I try to substitute them with some
more common brands.  Today I tried Newports.  But I always fall back on
these.  They are a perfect match to Italian coffee.  The European Union in
a nutshell.' She laughed but without pleasure.  He could hear those little
gargling sounds typical for heavy smokers when she laughed.  Her smoking
style changed now.  The drags were shorter and her cheeks didn't cave in
but the smoke she released was denser.  The smell was strong but to Greg it
wasn't unpleasant. 'Now then, tell me how you met Rita.' There was no way
to avoid it now.  For one year he had turned away any attempt by colleagues
or friends to talk about Rita.  Not that he had many friends; in fact he
had no one.  Not any more.  He had refused any invitation till the contact
to others had faded away.  Besides all their friends had been couples too.
Now that he was alone it would have been awkward to spend an evening among
happy couples.  Also he didn't want them to find out that he now smoked. 
It was no big deal but he felt shy about it.  Before, it had been Rita who
had smoked.  Not very much but she liked to have a cigarette after a good
meal or along a cup of coffee.  Nothing like this Madeleine character.  Yet
he had to admit her heavy smoking played havoc with his hormones.  His mind
stayed cool, but he felt the rising warmth in his crotch.  She had been
patiently waiting for him to speak up.  He had to go on lest the silence
would grow awkward. 'Two years ago we bumped into each other in a food
court at the mall.  We both ruined our meals but I all but forgot about it
the moment she started laughing.  We were in bed together the same day so I
think she felt the same about me too.  Till today I keep wondering how a
cutie like her took to a slob like me.' Madeleine blew a cloud of smoke
almost into his face and interrupted him: 'Now don't play modest.  You're
as a handsome man as any.  I can understand she fell for you.' She took a
last sip of her coffee and squashed out the short stub left from her
cigarette.  'You're too kind.  Maybe you are right at least what concerns
the Greg Palmer from a year ago.  But that really isn't important now.  It
must have been love at first sight.  Rita was my alter ego.  Till the last
day it warmed my heart even to hear her voice over the phone.  As far as it
concerns me we could have had phone sex without a single explicit word. 
She could have read me the phone directory and I would still have, you
know. That's the way I felt about her.  But that wasn't all.  Sometimes we
would just talk for hours just like brother and sister.  She was a bright
girl and I loved the way she thought about life and politics and all that.
By all her kindness she also had a touch of temper.  What shall I say?  Oh,
but forgive me.  She has been your friend so you sure know what a wonderful
person she was.' Madeleine turned to her grappa now and lit another one of
her French cigarettes.  She looked straight into his eyes.  It was like an
electrical shock for him.  She had Rita's eyes.  Apart from a small
deformation in the corner of her left eye were the scars were, she had the
same intense blue eyes.  The shock passed and he told himself he was a
fool. Maybe he made up things.  This woman was totally different from Rita.
Madeleine was taller and stronger, as far as he could make out under her
overcoat.  Rita had been blonde while Madeleine had auburn hair.  No, what
a stupid thought.  Although, her voice had a familiar ring to it.  Rita had
spoken in a higher pitch but the melody of her speech was the same.  He
pushed those stupid thoughts aside.  It was only natural his subconscious
would search for Rita in every woman but he didn't have to give in to such
an impulse. 'So you two have been madly in love.  I am so sorry for you.'
She stroked his hand gently.  'But I can hear in your voice it is hard for
you.  Please forgive me.  Maybe we should talk some other time.  I'll stay
at the Marriott for another week.  I haven't decided yet if I want to take
an apartment or move off.  You can call me up if you want to.  I have to
leave in half an hour as I have an appointment but if you want you can keep
me company till then.' Her voice had a strain on it like she had to talk
about unpleasant things.  Probably she had some difficult affairs to
untangle.  It was no concern of his.  She had not shown the slightest sign
of inclination towards him.  He wanted to leave and lick his wounds in the
isolation of his cubicle of an apartment but it would have been impolite.
Then there was another thing.  She had strung a cord in him.  It was stupid
bit he could not kill a vague hope to get closer to this woman. The half an
hour passed surprisingly quickly.  She smoked more of her cigarettes and
drank another Grappa.  Most of the time they just sat there in silence. 
When they left Madeleine gave him a slight peck on his cheek.  The strong
smell of her cigarettes mixed with her perfume and made him want to kiss
her lips.  She walked away and he couldn't but note that her walk reminded
him of Rita too.  Because of her high heels she moved differently but still
there was something very familiar in her balance. Two days later Greg could
not fight the desire to see her again anymore.  He just had to call her up.
He had to try several times to reach her.  Finally, it was almost nine pm
he heard her voice over the phone.  'Hi, this is Greg.' She didn't answer
immediately so he added.  'Palmer.  We have met two days ago at the
cemetery.' 'Yes I know.  I have recognized your voice immediately.  How
nice of you to call.' Her voice sounded different, almost happy.  She had a
slight slur in her speech like she was a bit tipsy.  He was a bit
disappointed, as he had hoped to see her.  Now he would probably have to
wait till the next day. 'Sorry I call so late.  I tried earlier but you
weren't there.' 'You don't have to apologize.  It's still early.  I tell
you what.  Why don't you come over?  You can help me finish off this bottle
of Champagne.  I was celebrating on my own but it would be much more fun
with you.' He was surprised.  Should he accept?  Maybe she had something in
mind, heated by the alcohol she had obviously consumed and if he were
to...? She would probably regret it in the morning and that was too
embarrassing.  Unlike most men he couldn't do that.  But he was stupid to
let his mind wonder like that.  She had been a friend of Rita's and had
accidentally met him, Rita's last lover.  He couldn't decline.  He knew he
was lying on himself.  He simply wanted to see her again.  She had spelled
him with her smoking and her low voice, her blue eyes. 'Give me fifteen
minutes.' She started to say something but stopped.  'I'll be waiting for
you.  Just ask for room number 345.' He rummaged in his closet.  All he
could find were the same trousers he had worn at the coffee shop and the
same jacket.  At least he could take on another polo. He showered in
express speed and off he went.  He had to walk but it wasn't far.  After
Rita's death he had given up driving and sold his car.  There seemed to be
no point in keeping it. He knocked at her door.  She opened and seemed
genuinely glad he had come.  He had not seen her smile before, not with her
entire face.  She had a dress on, a tight flimsy thing that went only from
the onset of her breasts to a palm over her knees.  He couldn't but compare
her with Rita.  She was indeed fuller.  Rita had been rather slim. 
Madeleine looked like a Rita that had taken up twenty pounds and in the
right places too.  Her breasts were ample were Rita's had been very
beautifully shaped but rather small.  Madeleine had also the rich hips to
harmonize with her breasts and her round shoulders.  In fact she also had
two things in common with Rita.  Her round soft shoulders and the thin
waist.  Were Rita had looked very nice in a more virtuous way, Madeleine
could model for the incarnation of the original sin. Madeleine approached
him and gave him a peck on his lips.  Like before he found the combination
of her perfume with the strong fragrance of her cigarettes incredibly sexy.
She still smoked her French filterless ones as he could see but this time
she used a holder about ten inches long.  She gave him a glass of Champagne
and toasted with her half empty glass in his direction. 'I'm so glad you
came.  You make a lonely girl feel better.' She took a drag from her holder
and he could see her cheeks cave in.  The drag extended for quite a while,
as she had to overcome the length of the holder to get to the smoke.  After
she inhaled she held her breath and gulped down the rest of the Champagne
in her glass.  Only then did she release the smoke, like always blowing a
big cone of dense white smoke.  He was getting hot already.  That was no
good sign.  What if she had no intention of starting anything?  He had to
keep his discipline.  After all what right had he to assume he had left any
impression at all on her?  A chaste kiss on his lips?  She was just in a
good mood and a little tipsy too.  It hadn't meant anything.  'So you
celebrate?  May I enquire as to the occasion?' He knew he sounded pompous
but it had escaped him like that. 'Oh, I just had some good news today.  I
had some health troubles and today my doctor declared I'm fit as a fiddle
again.  God, I'm so relieved.' She beamed at him like he had been the one
who had given her the good news.  'But why don't you sit her at my side? 
It's easier to reach your glass if you're not so far away.  I hope you help
me thru this bottle.  It's my second one and if I drink it all by myself it
might not end well.' Whatever the outcome would be he would at least feel
her close.  A brief streak of guilt passed his mind.  He was on the point
to forget Rita at least for a moment.  But it passed.  He joined her on the
sofa and now he could smell her much better.  She had sweated lightly and
he could smell her body under the blanket of smoke and perfume.  God what
an alluring smell it was!  Her body emanated a cinnamon like scent.  Rita
had smelled a bit like that too but not exactly.  Also she hadn't smoked
that much so most of the time all he would smell on her was her perfume. 
But this here was Madeleine.  She clinked her glass against his and said:
'C'mon don't be a spoilsport.  Drink up.' He did as he asked.  He felt the
mild warmth of the Champagne spread in his stomach.  He wasn't much of a
drinker and he knew that if he drank another glass he might forget his
manners.  So what?  He said to himself.  Even if it was only for one night,
Madeleine was worth it.  She really looked gorgeous.  The way she held the
cigarette holder and dragged from it was fantastic.  He dared to touch her
cheek with his finger lightly.  That triggered something in her.  She took
another long drag from her cigarette and pressed her lips against his.  He
hadn't expected this and was overwhelmed by the sensation.  Madeleine was
an expert kisser.  She kept her lips close and pressed her tongue against
his.  They kissed frantically for a while then she opened her lips a bit
more and blew a little smoke in his mouth.  He took it in eagerly and like
she had been waiting for it she gave him the benefit of all the smoke she
had been holding back.  Finally she withdrew letting him exhale. 'God, how
good this feels!' She exclaimed.  'It's been a while.' Wow, he thought.  He
had exchanged some smoky kisses with Rita but not like this.  He hadn't
been a smoker back then and he never dared tell Rita how exciting he found
this way of kissing.  He was afraid she would take him for a freak.  She
had known he found her smoking sexy but they had never talked about it and
he had never tried to make her do something special for him.  Madeleine
however had done that on her own account.  Maybe it gave her a kick too,
who knows, he thought.  He felt confident enough now to lay his arm around
her and she nestled into his side.  He could feel her heavy breasts touch
his ribs.  She poured some more Champagne for both of them and made him
drink up again.  He didn't mind any more.  He would need the reinforcement.
They kissed again and again she gifted him with smoke.  When she unbuttoned
his trousers and lifted her dress it came quite natural.  She took just the
time to fit another cigarette in her holder and then she was on top of him.
When he slid into her she was all wet, almost dripping and before she even
finished her cigarette they both reached cloud nine.  It had been quick and
hot.  She slumped against his chest and he could feel her nipples pinch
thru the fabric of her dress.  She kissed him lightly on his lips and
asked: 'Have you ever done something like this before?  Didn't you mind I
smoked?' 'No, two times no.  I've never had such a gorgeous woman before
and I didn't mind your smoking.  I found it very sexy.' Something in his
words had hit the wrong chord.  A touch of sadness fell over her face.  She
sucked on her holder for a while till she spoke up in low voice, almost
whispering. 'You had told me how much you loved Rita's body.' leaving the
rest unspoken. What an odd thing to say in such a moment, he thought.  She
stood up and ran to the bathroom.  He heard her splash around and then she
said thru the half opened door: 'Please go away.' He couldn't understand.
From the height of an adventure that was as tantalizing as it was
unexpected, she had thrown him into a dark pit crushing the tiny scion of
hope.  Without cleansing he just readjusted his trousers and went.

   Something kept nagging on his mind without really surfacing.  In the
eruption of feelings during their short but extremely intense sexual
contact he had no time to think of it but at home, with nothing else to do
he unrolled the events of that night in an endless loop.  He could still
feel the taste of her cigarettes on his tongue.  It had been much stronger
than he had been used to.  None of the women he had kissed before had ever
smoked more then the usual filter cigarettes and like Rita most had been
smoking Lights or Ultra Lights.  Tasting the strong unfiltered tar had been
a new experience that turned out to be different but highly arousing too.
But to what end?  She had given way to an impulse, probably under the
influence of too much alcohol and had instantly felt sorry.  After all such
a gorgeous woman could pick any man she wanted.  She sure could do better
than a slob like him.  Even at his best he hadn't been an overly attractive
male.  Now, haggard and with sunken in chest and slouching shoulders his
outside reflected his state of mind.  Then again he tried to remember what
reeled around in his subconscious.  He had just turned on his old TV set
when it hit him, probably triggered by something he had seen on screen.  It
was a feeling when he had penetrated her.  It was so familiar.  It couldn't
be but slowly the similarities with Rita were adding up to a level were
coincidence became less and less improbable.  He thought briefly about her
being a sister of Rita.  That would explain it at least partly.  Rita had
once told him she was single child, but maybe she had for whatever reason
lied to him.  Yet he could not believe it.  And even if, why should
Madeleine lie about it also?  It just didn't make sense.  What he had felt
when they made love was way too personal to be hereditary.  He was quite
perceptive and he knew from experience that every woman was special in that
respect.  He couldn't possibly be mistaken.  He tried to call her up.  Even
if the chances were small she might be inclined to see him again, he just
had to try.  To his disappointment she had checked out without a forwarding
address.  As he hardly could think of anything else, he thought he should
try to analyze the whole situation from a more objective point of view.  It
was almost beyond his powers but with the help of a chain of cigarettes and
gallons of coffee he managed to reach the cold and distant state of mind
that had once been his trademark in his job. What then were the facts about
Madeleine?  Leaving aside the fact that Rita was dead, what did he know of
Madeleine that made it impossible for her to be Rita? He started from head
down and took notes.

   Her height.  Madeleine had appeared taller but then she had worn high
heels most of the time were as Rita had always worn sneakers or slippers.
That could account for the difference. Not conclusive. The hair.  Rita had
been blonde but she was dying her hair.  She had told him she was just a
bit darker in color but liked to give her hair a more golden tint.  Could
have her natural color been auburn?  Madeleine's hair had seemed quite
natural up to a tiny streak of gray hair but one never could tell.  Not
conclusive.  The complexion.  Rita had been quite pale but not white. 
Madeleine had a darker complexion and skin even on her legs but that could
have been achieved by the means of a sunlamp.  Not conclusive. The eyes. 
Almost identical.  Pro The nose.  Slightly different.  Madeleine's nose was
a bit smaller and upturned.  Nothing that couldn't be explained by modern
surgery. Not conclusive. The mouth.  Madeleine's lips were a bit bigger and
were more heart shaped.  Differences could be achieved by make up.  Also
with such a thing as permanent make up a woman could extend her lips beyond
their natural limits.  Without photo of Madeleine it was impossible to
tell. Not conclusive. The voice.  Different but also slightly familiar. 
Not conclusive. The shoulders.  Madeleine's had been fuller but she might
have been a Rita who had gained weight. Not conclusive. The breasts.  Same
as shoulders. Not conclusive. The hips.  The same. Not conclusive. The
smoking habit.  Rita had never shown signs of being more than a social
smoker.  Madeleine acted like a very heavy smoker, most likely highly
addicted.  Yet, as far as he could tell, it wasn't impossible to become a
chain smoker within one year. Not conclusive.

   Then finally he remembered what had really struck him when he had made
love to her.  It was not alone the way she had felt and acted when he had
penetrated her.  That too had raised a familiar memory.  But there had been
one thing that he really had seen.  The feet.  Like her eyes Madeleine had
the tiny feet of Rita. Absolutely pro.

   So what could he tell so far?  Cons: 0 NC: 9 Pro: 2

   "If any other possibility has been excluded, the remaining one, however
improbable, must be the truth" This line he had heard or read somewhere and
it seemed to fit the situation.  Now he had to deal with the How.  Again he
had to dissect the circumstances of Madeleine's death.  Could there be the
slightest doubt she was dead?  He tried to suppress the pain he felt when
thinking of those days.  What first hand evidence did he have? The day had
started just like any other day.  Rita had been drinking her coffee along
with the single cigarette she would smoke till after dinner when he left.
She had told him she had to drive to a customer some sixty miles away. In
the afternoon when he came home the police was waiting for him.  They had
found her car burnt down after it had crashed into a tree near the road she
had been traveling on, apparently on her way back.  Her body had been so
severely scorched a positive identification had been impossible.  As
however there was no reason to suspect anything out of common, everybody,
including Greg, had assumed it was her body they had found.  Yet however
improbable there was no direct proof it had been her.  There had been no
attempt to make sure of her identity.  No DNA test, not even a dental
examination.  He now turned to the problem of what had happened to Rita if
it wasn't her they had found.  Why hadn't she given any sign of life?  Why
had she appeared at her own grave without revealing her true identity? 
There was no point in piling up questions.  He had always had the right
instinct for the moment when he needed more facts.  But were to get them
from?  Maybe he should form a theory of why Madeleine had survived but
hadn't gotten in touch.  He thought of the scars Madeleine had hidden
behind her sunglasses.  So what if she had been the victim of a robbery or
carjacking?  The woman who had assaulted her had hurt her and left her
unconscious, dumped somewhere near the road or on a side road.  Then she
had crashed the car and been buried instead of Rita.  Maybe Rita had had so
bad injuries that she had been unconscious for quite a while.  On the other
hand Madeleine had shown no signs of recent illness so if this was to be
true she certainly had been well for quite a while.  As to her changed
behavior, he would have to deal with that later.  First, as he had no
computer of his own, he would have to go to the library and check the
newspapers of that period on a piece of news about the finding of a badly
hurt woman somewhere between the city she had been on business and here. It
took him two hours to find the paragraph he had been looking for in a
newspaper from the city she had been to.  That explained why nobody in his
own hometown had suspected anything.  Besides the news had been five days
old when printed and it hadn't made the front page either.  If the woman
found in a creek at a hundred yards from the road had indeed been Rita, the
event hadn't been important enough to make the headlines.  An unknown
victim of an unsolved crime was too a commonplace event to be really
important.  He tried to find more information on Jane Doe but he failed. 
He doubted he could get that info out of the police.  Whatever hospital had
taken care of her, they were even less probable to give away any kind of
information.  The only one who knew the truth was Madeleine.  There had
been many moments when he felt she wanted to say something.  Then he
remembered that on two occasions she had been surprised that he had given
such short times for his arrivals at the coffee shop and the hotel.  Yes,
of course, the house he had lived in with Rita had been on the other side
of the city.  So if she had assumed that he still lived in their house it
would seem unnatural to her that he could arrive that fast on both
occasions.  A nice theory but wasn't he bending facts in a desperate
attempt to turn a complete stranger into the resurrected Rita?  No, he
decided, even if it were complete nonsense, he still could rely on his
analytic capacities.  It could be true.  He raced to the Marriott in the
hope he could bribe the receptionist to tell him a forwarding address of
Madeleine's in case she had left one, or some sort of ID or a home address.
He would find no peace till he could check his theory.  Alas he failed. 
Even a hundred bucks couldn't tempt the guy on the reception desk to help
him.  After an excruciating wait of twelve hours he tried again with
another receptionist but it was like he was bumping into a wall of
concrete. No help from there.  He grew desperate.  For days he would walk
the streets in the absurd hope he would meet her but nothing happened. 
Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of her in a distance.  Even at
the cemetery were he now went more often to see if she wasn't there, he
thought he saw her leave but either that she was too far away and he had no
chance to catch up or he would find a complete stranger who had looked
remotely like her.  After two weeks in which he had grown even more haggard
as he had dwelled mostly on cigarettes and coffee, rarely taking the time
to eat properly, he was near exhaustion and ended up too weak to get up
from bed.  Now he had to mourn the loss of two women instead of one, or one
for the second time.  Already he couldn't think straight.  With his last
powers he dialed the emergency.  It occurred to him that this would put an
end to his eremitic life as the money he would spend for hospitalization
would diminish his resources to the point were he had to either get a job
or become a hobo.  That was his last clear thought for a week.  His
recovery was slow and painful.  His mind was clear again but the dark
thoughts sat in once more.  His stomach was a knot and refused to accept
nourishment.  If it hadn't been for the angelic patience of an older
matronly nurse he might have relapsed.  The cravings for a smoke tormented
him but bearable as he hadn't been that much of a smoker.  Yet every time
he thought to smell a whiff of tobacco smoke he got restless.  It reminded
him that he needed to smoke and also it rattled the memories of Rita and
Madeleine or Madeleine who was Rita or the other way round...  The nurse
wiped his face with a moist cloth and his mind cleared up once more.  How
long would it take till he would loose his mind completely? At night he
would dream of Madeleine.  Sometimes her face would melt into Rita's and
back to Madeleine's.  Then he relapsed into high fever as his weakened body
had caught an infection of sorts.  In his feverish hallucinations he
sometimes confused a nurse for Madeleine.  Sometimes he even thought he
could smell the typical fragrance of smoke over perfume but the picture
never lasted.  In the end it took him a whole month till he could walk
unassisted.  He felt a little better.  The dreams were still there but at
least in daytime he was clear again.  The hurricane that had raced inside
his feverish brain had calmed down and he could start to clean up the
ruins. Then one day when he was just starting to explore the hospital on
his own feet, he saw the back of a woman that moved like Madeleine.  She
had a dress on and her high heels were the same.  But she entered the
elevator and till another one arrived and he was in the hallway of the
ground floor she was nowhere to see.  His racing heart calmed down slowly.
At least he hadn't freaked out.  Gretie, the old nurse saw on his face that
something had happened.  She had chatted sometimes with him.  He hadn't
told her about Madeleine and Rita or...  He had to stop this.  Now he
decided to give away at least part of his troubles.  He told her about his
love for Madeleine and how he dreamt of her every night and dreamt even of
her smell.  'But there was a woman here quite often.' Gretie exclaimed. 
His eyes almost popped out of their socket.  'What did she look like?'
Gretie gave him quite an accurate description of Madeleine.  He started to
shake.  He hadn't dreamt it all up!  But why didn't she want meet him?  Why
this secrecy?  Whether she was Rita or someone else, she must feel
something for him.  Why than this odd behavior?  Gretie felt the
approaching crisis and called the doctor who gave him a shot that made him
drift away into a dreamless darkness.  When he came around again he heard
voices.  A doctor debating with another one whether they should transfer
him to the psychiatric ward.  He woke up with a start.  He begged the
doctors to give him one last chance.  The doctors granted him one more day.
He lent back and thought that he had only this night. If Madeleine would
show up again he would be waiting for her.  He did his best to look
presentable and when his medication came along with is dinner he threw away
all the pills rightfully assuming there were tranquillizers among them. 
Luckily Gertie was still around and she agreed to get him some caffeine
pills to make sure he wouldn't fall asleep.  After all the turmoil he had
lived thru he was now surprisingly calm.  A single thought nagged at him.
What if she wouldn't show up?  The hours dragged on endlessly.  Then after
midnight, an hour when he was supposed to sleep with the help of the pills,
the door of his room creaked a little.  He had chosen to hide under the
blanket and wait for what was to come.  He felt a hand tuck slightly at his
blanket.  His face came free.  He opened his eyes.  There stood Rita!  A
heavier body, dark hair and a changed nose but it was Rita and Madeleine in
one person!  She gave a muffled scream and wanted to turn away.  He caught
her hand. 'Please, don't leave me.  Not again.' She sighed sending her
tar-scented breath towards him.  Rita hadn't smelled like that back then
but he liked that on her now.  She collapsed on the side of his bed and
lowered her head.  He heard a light sob.  She needed comfort.  He sat up
and took her in his arms.  The now familiar perfume smoke mix greeted his
nose.  Even her hair smelled like that.  He rocked her gently and kissed
her hair.  Finally she turned her head and kissed him feverishly.  'Rita.'
he kept saying.  'Rita, where have you been?' She sighed, still hesitating
and then whispered. 'Dead.  Rita hasn't lived for a year.  Now she's back
and claims her place inside Madeleine.  I don't even know any more who I
am.' She fell silent again. He thought he understood or at least felt that
it was in a way the truth.  He rocked her gently in his arms like she was a
little girl.  She was trembling under his embrace while she clang to him.
Slowly her inner storm subsided.

   'God, I need a smoke badly.  We have so much to talk about but I can't
get my senses together without my little white friends.' she said a little
bit calmer. It was an odd thing to say but it warmed Greg's heart.  She
hadn't denied being Rita, yet the wonderful sexy smoker Madeleine was still
there. 'I know a place were the personnel goes to smoke.  We have to be
quiet.' He stud up, took his robe and taking her by the hand he led her to
a narrow staircase that ended at a door to the roof.  The moment they were
outside she was already dragging heavily on her filterless Gitane.  He felt
his arousal run like an electric shock thru his body.  He had never dared
to admit he had a smoking fetish but now he had to face it.  As much as he
loved Rita and had adored her and enjoyed their love life, the heights of
arousal Madeleine drove him up to were beyond all he had ever felt for a
woman and her smoking was an important part of it.  They found a bench
hidden behind one of the superstructures of the building.  He gave her time
to reach the nicotine level she had craved for admiring her double and
triple pumps.  His dick was showing clearly but it didn't matter.  When she
had her second cigarette going and smoked at a slower pace he dared ask her
the question that obsessed him: 'Why, Rita?  Why haven't you come back? 
Why this hide and seek game?' 'God, where do I start?  You've buried the
wrong person, but you know that now' Despite his burning need to find out
all he couldn't resist kissing her.  He caught her with smoke filled lungs
and indulged on the bittersweet tarry taste of her mouth, sucking on her
till she released the harsh smoke into his lungs.  Immediately his head
swam as he hadn't smoked for over a month but it was so wonderful he almost
spurted out wetting his pants. She smiled with all her face.  This was more
Rita than Madeleine. 'I had forgotten how good your kisses are.  This trick
with the smoke sharing makes it even better.' She gave him a short closed
lips smooch and then went on with her story. 'You must understand one
thing. What happened that day turned me into another woman.  I have had a
major brain injury and in cases like mine even the personality of people
can change.  Only part of me is Rita and even that part was buried for over
a year.  I guess that after watching over you all these nights what is left
of Rita came to life completely.  Other things will not change back.  I
love to clothe differently, my taste in food has changed and as you can see
I have lost all shyness in my smoking.  That maybe also because if you are
almost dead already and come back to life like I did, you want to enjoy
everything without remorse.  A remote fear of health damage does not matter
any more.' They kissed again.  He thought he could now dump smoking
entirely if she would agree to live with him again.  He could get all the
smoke he needed from smoky kisses.  IF she wanted to.' 'Oh God Rita,
there's so much I want to ask you.  Now that I have you back I want to get
out of here as soon as I can.' Greg stopped here because he realized he had
nothing to offer her.  They couldn't possibly stay in his dreary apartment
and with the hospital bill awaiting he wouldn't even have enough to pay the
rent.  Besides she had grown a taste for elegant clothes and other
expensive things.  The cigarettes she consumed weren't entirely for free
either.  Whatever she felt for him now, how was he to support her?  She
felt his sudden sadness. 'What's the matter, are you sick?' she had an
almost desperate and guilty look on her face.  She knew she had a part in
his breakdown even thou her supposed death hadn't been of her planning. 
But her stupid reaction after they had made love again for the first time
after a year had driven him over the edge. 'No, it's nothing.  Only that I
just realized I'm totally broke now and I can't even pay for my own living,
much less for yours.' As an answer she started to laugh.  Her laugh was
different from the almost bell like sounds of the old Rita, as he now
thought of her.  Deeper, throaty and mixed with little gargling sounds from
the phlegm that lined her throat.  Yet it had a familiar ring in it too. 
And it sounded really sexy, he thought.  All in all Rita had gained much
sex appeal in many respects.  But that didn't solve his problems.  Instead
Rita did.  She was beaming now. 'Oh you silly.  Is that all?  I was afraid
you wouldn't want me any more.  You don't have to fret about money.  For
starters I have enough for both of us and I have an idea how you could help
me earn a lot more.  That way you won't even live on my money.  I have
earned a little fortune in the last six month.  I have a modeling job.' He
looked at her amazed.  Yes, she had a perfect figure now, but not for the
usual fashion presentation shows.  She wasn't tall enough and a bit too
heavy.  What then? 'Wow, he exclaimed.  Is it permitted to ask what kind of
modeling?' 'Will you be mad at me?  Promise me not.  I've been a little
naughty.  I did things Rita wouldn't have done.' That didn't sound good. 
Had she...?  But what she said next would have removed any doubt it was
indeed Rita who sat there beside him.  She showed her talent of
anticipating his questions once again, just like in the old days. 'No,
don't worry, I haven't changed that much, you know, not that way.  I'm
still a little prudish.  I'm not into porn.  I may show a little more of my
body sometimes but always alone.  Even my cameraman is a camerawoman.  I do
smoke modeling.' 'Is that why you smoke so much now?' a suitable question
as she had chained her filterless ones while talking to him. 'Do you mind?'
'How can you ask?  You know what it does to me.  The same as to the guys
who buy the stuff you make.  Unless you really overdo it and get sick from
it I wouldn't dream of objecting it.  I enjoy the way you smoke now very
much.  As long as I can share it with you any time I want...' and he meant
it. 'Naughty boy!  Want my cigarette?' teasing. 'No, just the smoke.' They
both laughed and then kissed heavily.  How wonderful her mouth tasted!
'Back to your question.  No, I don't smoke more because of my work.  It's
the other way round.  It started while I was recovering from the brain
surgery.' 'Poor Rita, you had your share.  But please tell me more about
what happened.' 'All right.' She lit another cigarette from the short butt
of the last one, as she had done all the time. 'You see I had been
unconscious for quite a while.  Slowly I came back to life but it was an
awful process.  I was totally disoriented as I could neither speak nor
understand what I heard.  Just like a new born.  My mind was totally blank.
Then, in little steps, things came back.  I had to learn to walk again, to
talk, to read and write and all that.  The first month was the worst. 
Then, the more I learned, the more things snapped into place.  As I had
been in a coma for weeks, my muscles had receded and the physical therapy
was cruelly painful at first.  Then I started to like it and I guess I
overdid it a little.  My calves are much stronger then they used to be.' He
interrupted her with a smooch.  'And they look terrific too.' 'Hey, don't
hack on Rita again.  You told her many times she was the sexiest girl in
the world.  Then Madeleine comes your way and Rita's history.' she
complained but her smile told him she was only teasing. 'Anyway I grew
fatter also.  Hush, don't say anything.  I know I look much better that
way. You men just love big fat titts and bulging hips.  Well, suits me
fine. I remember I used to be almost a vegetarian and never ate much but
ever since my rebirth I have a very healthy appetite.  I just love big
juicy steaks and fries and all that, not to forget ice cream and chocolate.
To hell with cholesterofobia.' 'Wow!' he exclaimed.  'Remember that the
only times we disagreed were when it came to your eating?  I always feared
you were too thin and you complained you were too fat.  That's something I
won't miss.  Besides it will be much more fun to eat a steak together now.
You always made me feel guilty about eating all that meet while you hardly
finished a baked potato.' Like to check if this was for real he caressed
her hips and her sides.  This did not fail on her and they wound up kissing
and squeezing each other once more.  Reluctantly Greg drew back a little
and said to her: 'Look, Rita, err, Madeleine, oh God this is confusing. 
How am I supposed to call you now?' 'I guess I like Madeleine better. 
Sounds more elegant.  Yes, let's dump Rita once and for all, shall we?  But
what was it you wanted to say?' 'Well, it's just that I'm still longing to
hear more about what you did within the last year.  I mean if we go on like
that, you know what's gonna happen and if someone comes up here...' She
laughed and gave him a peck. 'Would you care?' 'Who me?  I was thinking of
you.  Remember how prudish you were as Rita?' 'Hey buster, forget Rita.  I
have her memories and some of her feelings in here,' She pointed at her
heart ' but I dumped most of her personality.  You know what I feared most?
That you wouldn't like Madeleine.' 'I loved Rita and I fell in love with
Madeleine.  What else do you want?  So please go on or the morning shift
will find us when they come here for their first smoking break.' He said
somewhat solemnly. OK, were was I?  Yes, exercise.  After some six weeks I
felt halfways human again, except I had no idea who I was or even what my
name was.  Nothing from before my coma.  The pains were almost gone and my
hair had grown again after I had been shaved for surgery.  However a
strange sort of hunger kept nagging at me.  It wasn't hunger for food nor
was it thirst but it sure felt like something to take in somehow. 
Periodically my throat felt dry and I got the shakes.  My soles would
tickle and I got slight cramps all over my body too.  I had no idea what it
was till one day my nurse took me out to fetch some fresh air.  She could
hardly wait to light up a cigarette as soon as we were far enough out in
the park.  The moment I saw her smoke and the smell reached my nose I knew
it.  What I was missing was smoking.  I had cravings for nicotine.  Don't
ask me how or what.  I had been sort of immune to nicotine before.  I had
never felt that kind of cravings as Rita.  Not that I can remember.  Well,
I didn't have to beg her for a smoke as she offered whole pack but she
warned me she only had filterless cigarettes, the Gitanes I now smoke
myself.  And those, she added, were not for children.  I didn't care.  I
took one and almost failed to light it, so much were my hands trembling,
and inhaled.  God, what a divine feeling.  I had forgotten all about
smoking.  All I knew back then was that I wouldn't want to miss that
feeling ever again.  The rush was so strong it made my eyes water, but it
matched the need I had.  It felt like water to someone who has thirsted for
days.  My whole body was electrified.  As Rita even at the worst I had been
smoking maybe five or six cigarettes each day and sometimes none at all. 
Now it's at lest two packs of Gitanes or four packs of Marlboros or B&H,
full flavor of course.  I even wake up at night and chain a couple.  Those
are the moments I would need a guy most.  Dizzy with sleep I get so damn
horny no dildo can provide enough pleasure.  Speaking of getting horny, you
think...?' Greg knew what she craved for and he felt the same.  He didn't
care any more.  They both needed it badly.  Rita jumped up in his lap and
away they went.  He was afraid to finish early, but somehow he managed to
hold back till he felt Rita, no, Madeleine giving signs of an insetting
orgasm.  Her sharp nails dug into the flesh of his thighs and she puffed
and moaned with an intensity Rita had never shown.  He pushed his hands
under her armpits and cupped her big breasts.  He felt her shudder under
his touch and then he forgot all around him and floated away on the peak of
his own orgasm... Madeleine didn't even have the power to reach for a
cigarette.  They lent back on the bench slumped into each other, fighting
for air.  After endless minutes Madeleine reached for her purse to get a
cigarette. 'Want one too?' she asked Greg, not really meaning it as she
knew the answer and suspected what the consequences would be. 'You know
better, love.  Just use me as air purifier.  That'll do.' Madeleine
deliberately took a triple pump and blew it into Greg's mouth.  She was
sitting sideways on his lap now and felt his chest expand while he sucked
in the smoke she exhaled.  The rush was gigantic.  For a moment the world
turned around him.  Then, as his body remembered the wonderful poison, he
felt well again, elated and just a little dizzy.  She had not touched his
lips but now she crushed them and after two more drags he was ready once
again and as she felt it too they started all over.  This time Madeleine
wasn't as frantic as before and she could enjoy the sensation without
having to neglect her smoking.  They floated away on a wave of intense
affection towards each other, the pleasure filling up not only their bodies
but also their souls.

   Epilogue

   If you ever stumble upon a specialty producer of smoking fetish films
named M&G productions, take a look at it.  They sell DVDs with all sorts of
smoking clips from the lady smoking alone in all sorts of dresses, from
casual to very fancy, up to some really hardcore stuff.  Some find it a bit
boring as the characters never change but they have a very special quality
on them.  You can see the true passion between Madeleine and Greg.