Smoke and Silence by Satur s

Smoke and Silence by Satur s

Published on Sun, Sep 01 2013 by webmaster
I have always felt fortunate that as a man with a smoking fetish, my desires can be realized in public. I am always on the lookout for beautiful smoking women and for as long as I can remember I have been drawn to this erotic image. It often fills my fantasies and I am thankful that I have had the good fortune of exploring this powerful fetish with past girlfriends. With the seemingly endless stream of smoking fetish content, I have also been able to fulfill my desires in private. However, nothing prepared me for what took place about six weeks ago.
 
After finishing up a lunch meeting at a local restaurant, I stopped at a nearby café for a quick cup of coffee before heading back to the office. Grabbing a large Americano and a newspaper, I strolled outside, found an open table in the far corner of the patio and sat down.
 
Glancing around, the crowd was made up of predominantly business people on their lunch breaks; I noticed a table about 25 feet away with two attractive young women in their mid-twenties, one short-haired blonde and one long-haired brunette, holding a very loud and animated conversation. They seemed to be relishing in the attention they were receiving which is my signal to make sure to avoid giving them any more. Subtlety is what I find attractive. This changed quickly however, as I looked up from my paper just in time to see the brunette, a long, cork-tip held between her teeth, lean over to give her friend a light.
 
The blonde leaned into the lighter and cupped her friend's hands to block the non-existent wind. A strong, cheek-hollowing drag followed by a no-hands inhale as she leaned back into her chair. I actually thought I saw her shudder from the pleasure coursing through her. She struck me as a committed smoker who hadn't had a cigarette for way too long. She started laughing and mouthed something to her friend. In trying to read her lips I think she said, "Fuck, that felt good."
 
The brunette was a relatively new smoker, still a bit awkward on the light up. I have always found this especially attractive as there is certain earnestness in newer smokers. They tried smoking, they liked it and they want to look as if they are experienced. They are the ones you will see giggling with their friends, practicing French inhales and smoke rings. Once lit, she took a relatively small drag yet held the smoke in her mouth, as if to do a snap inhale. She tried but didn't quite have the timing down. Her friend noticed her attempt and very deliberately executed a perfect snap, letting the smoke linger longer than usual in her open mouth and then aggressively sucking it deep into her lungs. She looked pleased with herself and motioned for her friend to mimic her. The brunette did, and with a purposeful look, pulled off a very nice snap of her own.
 
Of course, all of this is going on while I am pretending to read my paper. I could have had it upside down for all I knew. I continued my sidelong glances, especially towards the short-haired blonde woman. If she didn't have the fetish, then she knew someone who did. Certain women enjoy their smoking in a way that goes way beyond just getting some nicotine into their bodies. This woman understood. Soon, they were down to the last drag and they quickly became uninteresting to me again. I can look past a lot of things if a woman smokes well.
 
I went back to enjoying my paper and coffee. The outside patio was now full as people came and went on the warm, California afternoon. As I was reading about yet another corrupt politician, I had the sense that someone was standing close by. I looked over the top of my paper to see the back of a petite woman, dressed in a nicely tailored suit. She had straight, black hair that fell well past her shoulders. She had a latte in one hand, a shopping bag in the other and a black briefcase on a leather strap draped over her shoulder. I could see that she was looking for somewhere to sit. As I was involved in the article I was reading and wouldn't feel the need to make small talk, as well as the fact that there was an extra chair close by, I half-stood and asked her if she needed a seat. She quickly turned to me with a thankful yet exasperated smile simply said, "Thank you."
 
She looked like she was in her early 30's. She was Asian and my immediate assumption was she was Japanese. She was petite, maybe 5'2" and slim. Her suit was a tailored, a dark grey, pinstripe number with a white shirt opened so the collar spread out over the lapel. She was a business woman no doubt, but with a creative flair. Maybe marketing or advertising. Cool, not stodgy. And very, very pretty.
 
I asked her if she needed a hand. She gave a short laugh and said she was OK. I gave a polite smile and went back to my paper. I am not the kind of guy to start hitting on a woman just because circumstances brought us together. She needed a place to sit...there was an extra chair. No big deal. But still...
 
She rustled around getting situated, carefully setting the shopping bag on the ground while letting her briefcase drop without much care. She started rummaging through the case and giving a quick glance her way, I saw her pulling out a paper as well. I then heard an audible sigh as she settled in to enjoy a little "downtime."
 
So we sat in silence together, reading our papers, sipping our coffees. Actually, there was something very nice about have her there. I had been married and had numerous long-term relationships and one of the things I most enjoyed sharing with my partners, was sitting in a café and relaxing. Being alone, together.
 
"You're FUCKING kidding me!" screeched the blonde at the nearby table, shattering our quiet and causing both my table guest and I to look up from our reading. The brunette responded with an equally loud and equally obnoxious, "Swear to fucking God!" And they both laughed that kind of laugh that was a little too loud and lasted a little too long. You know the kind. The laugh that says, "Look at me!" Well I'll tell you what. ..I will look at you as soon as you light up another smoke. In the meantime, settle down, huh?
 
My tablemate looked at me almost as apologizing for the behavior of girls who are in need of attention. It wasn't really judgmental but I could tell she had a certain opinion about how to behave in public. I gave a little laugh and said something benign like, "Too much coffee." She chuckled and said, "Good thing they're not drinking tea." Great response. She's quick with a sense of humor. She had a sweet voice too. Not girly and not curt. Just nice.
 
"Well..." I said, trying to think of something witty and charming when all I could concentrate on was how ridiculously attractive she was to me. "I've already had six martinis today and they're obnoxious even by my standards." OK, maybe not the best but she laughed.
 
We started chatting in a very relaxed, casual way. I found out she worked in creative development for a large company, moved to town about six months prior after living in Seattle. She asked me a few question about myself and we continued on in an unhurried and very relaxed way.
 
"Hey, you got a light," the blonde bellowed to the table next to her made up of a man, his wife and their 8 year old daughter, dressed as if they were from a European city on vacation and trying to enjoy the American café experience.
 
"Does anybody have a light," she yelled even louder, causing her brunette friend to break into laughter. I took this as my two-fold opportunity. I politely excused myself from my tablemate and reaching into my pocket for my lighter, walked to the girls table. Without saying a word, I flicked my lighter and held if in front of her, silently, looking directly into her eyes. Like something out of a Bogart film. I think my stillness affected her somehow as she immediately demurred and slowly moved into the flame while cupping my hand with hers. She took a very long and deep drag, not letting the smoke billow out of her mouth as she puffed, but rather aggressively sucking the smoke deep into her lungs. A deep inhale followed with an alluring, "Thank you," before she slowly executed the smoke above her head in a cloud.
 
"What about you," I said to the brunette. "Are you smoking?" She instantly reached for the pack of Marlboro Reds sitting on the table and quickly put one in her mouth. I gave a little sense that she needed to hurry up, (girls that demand attention always respond to this) and she did so, pulling hard on the cigarette like her friend until she too, blew out a rich cloud of smoke, some of which found its way toward my face. She too said, "Thank you."
 
"See, "I said. "Isn't it nice to be polite?" With that parting line, I gave each a smile and slowly turned back toward my table.
 
"That'll keep 'em quiet for a while," I said to my new friend. She laughed and told me that was a very nice gesture even though she knew that I really just wanted to shut them up. We laughed about that as I sat back down.
 
The girls were speaking to each other in much quieter tones. I think they needed to be reminded that there are still places that people frequent because of a tranquil and communal feeling. Even their smoking became more mature, more sensual. The brunette especially seemed to really focus on the techniques her friend had been teaching her lately. She took great care in dragging on the cigarette in a controlled and powerful manner before letting the smoke pop out of her mouth before inhaling it strongly back in. After letting the smoke fill her lungs deeply, she let out languid exhales, trying to appear nonchalant but still enjoying seeing the smoke move away from her mouth.
 
I must have been staring. My friend suddenly says to me, "Looks like they are really enjoying themselves aren't they?" I was shaken back to reality and hoped she didn't think I was some sort of freak who she caught staring at two young smoking women. "Uh,yeah." I stammered, trying to throw a little laugh in there to ease my embarrassment. She was quiet for a moment when I noticed her looking at them as well, almost with a king of longing. She then said, "Kind of makes me want one too."
 
That little "ping" in my stomach triggered a stirring in my loins as even the thought of this woman smoking was enough to allow my mind to drift into fantasy mode; despite the reality. I think that many with a certain proclivity towards more non-mainstream desires can probably relate.
 
Thankfully, I was still cognizant enough to understand that if I were to lunge at my pack of cigarettes, rip one of the pack, shove it in her mouth, light it with shaking hands and then ask her to exhale in my face, I could just say "Goodnight Everyone. Drive Safely and don't forget to tip your waiter." I'd be toast.
 
"You don't really look like a smoker,"
 
"Oh really," she replied. "What exactly does a smoker look like?"
 
"Good point," I admitted. "I guess everyone has their vices, huh?"
 
"Yeah," she said almost whimsically. A silence fell between us. Not awkward. Just quiet. It was nice. I watched her sip her coffee and casually flip through the pages of an interior architecture magazine.
 
Sensing the timing was right, I casually reached down towards my briefcase, discreetly opened it and pulled out a pack of Camel Lights. There were two left.
 
With an over-the top, Humphrey Bogart impression I asked, "Cigarette?"
 
Thank God she laughed. Good. I was being a nice, fun goofball but also a bit of the adventurous bad boy. Have to stay balanced.
 
"Now there's a surprise," she said. "Looking at you, I wouldn't have thought that you were a smoker either," she said.
 
"Oh really," I teased, "And what exactly does a smoker look like?"
 
She laughed again. I'm on a roll.
 
In all truth, I'm glad she didn't look like a "smoker." The most erotic smokers to me are those nice girls that look like they would never touch a cigarette. And when you see them take a hard, cheek-hollowing drag, a delicate snap and a smooth exhale, their purity becomes tinged with a hint of the rebel. I like that. I guess the Madonna/Whore Syndrome comes in many shades.
 
I took the remaining two cigarettes out of the pack and handed her one. She took it gingerly and actually gave a quick glance around to see if anyone she knew was nearby. Ah, she's also a closet smoker. Perfect. I find it most attractive when a woman views smoking as a special treat, not just as an addiction. I fished around in my pocket for my lighter and after taking a subtle deep breath to calm my excitement, I flicked on the lighter.
 
She lifted the cigarette to the full lips of her small mouth, set it in place and reached up to touch my hand as the flame moved closer. So classy. She took a hard pull on the cigarette and ever so slowly drew the smoke into her lungs. I tried not to stare as I too lit my cigarette, put my lighter back in my pocket and leaned back into the chair.
 
The sun was positioned behind her in such a way that the smoke curling off her cigarette took on a bluish glow. I could see every wisp of smoke dancing in the soft breeze. It was mesmerizing.
 
As it seemed that smoking had kind of drawn us together, I had to ask the logical question.
 
"So, how long have you been smoking," Not particularly profound I admit. But I still felt the jolt that comes from asking a stranger a personal question.
 
"I've only been smoking for about a year, actually," she said, slowly putting the cigarette back into her perfect mouth and giving it a relatively hard drag, hard enough to create a that soft, cheek-hollowing effect that I find so inexplicably erotic. She held her lips together as the smoke danced in her mouth, gave a short yet deep inhale and after holding the smoke in her lungs for a short time, deliberately exhaled it in a tight stream to the side so as not to blow it in my face. I could tell she was being polite. I sure wish she wasn't as I would have loved to see that stream heading right at my face.
 
"Really," I said. "You took it up this late in life? What made you start?
 
"Well," she said, "I don't really know." I think she wanted to tell me but may have felt a little awkward sharing such details with a stranger.
 
"Oh, come on," I joked. "I promise I won't tell anyone and if I see your Mom, I'll tell her you were just holding it for me."
 
She laughed. "OK, OK, I'll tell you." She took another drag and this time held the smoke a bit longer in her lungs as she contemplated her response. She hadn't yet exhaled as she began talking which allowed some of the smoke to be forced out with her words. She paused before powerfully exhaling the rest. "A lot of my friends smoke. I work in a pretty high-pressure work environment and I always thought it just came with the territory. I never started because I have always tried to take care of my body and I knew it was bad for me. But there was always something about it that I found..." she hesitated as she searched for the right word, "...interesting."
 
"Really," I replied. "I know what you mean."
 
"You do?"
 
"I do." I wanted to come out and tell her what I really thought about a beautiful woman smoking. I wanted to tell her that the image has fueled a certain part of my sexuality since I was a boy and that I often masturbate while viewing images of hot smoking women. I held my tongue. Needless to say I was surprised when she leaned in a bit and said, "To tell you the truth, I find smoking very sexy."
 
When she said it, her face expressed both shyness and the childlike joy that comes with being "naughty." She instantly dropped her eyes, shocked I believe in her uttering these words to a stranger. I sensed her feelings and in a playful, confidential way I asked, "Can I tell you something?"
 
"Yes," she said.
 
I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed about what I was going to say. I am not sure why as she had just admitted to me that she found smoking sexy. I guess it was from years of keeping my fetish to myself, except with lovers that I knew and trusted.
 
"Well, I really find smoking sexy too. It's something that has always kind of, well, you know..." I let the sentence trail off, unable to come out and say what I really wanted to say which is very unusual for me.
 
While she was listening to me and looking me right in the eye, she brought the cigarette to her lips and placing it in the far corner, took another beautiful cheek-hollowing drag followed by a very deep inhale and this time, she held the smoke for a very long time, seeming to make me wait for what turned out to be a perfect, slow exhale, this time aimed just to the side of my face.
 
"Are you trying to say it turns you on?" she asked in very kind, understanding way without a touch of embarrassment or guardedness as if she needed to protect herself with me. I gave a kind of bashful smile and a nod of my head.
 
"Oh good," she said with relief. "I guess I am not the only one after all. I have to be honest with you. Watching those girls smoke was really exciting for me. I was watching them do their smoking tricks and it really did something to me. When I saw you get up to light their cigarettes, I have to admit, it was kind of exciting."
 
"Where the hell did you come from!" I questioned in a joking manner. Half jokingly I said, "You are the woman of my dreams." Believe me, I was only half joking. We both laughed.
 
She had stubbed her cigarette out in the unused ashtray on the table and I did the same. There was almost a look of disappointment in her eyes as she did so, knowing that I didn't have anymore cigarettes. And she has a casual smoker, obviously wasn't carrying any herself. Just then the blonde and brunette light yet another round of smokes, continuing their smoking session with both snap and French inhales.
 
"I wish I could do that," she said to me, now completely comfortable with the idea of talking about smoking.
 
"Do what," I asked.
 
"You know, where the smoke kind of comes out of your mouth like a little ball and pops right back in. I think that looks so great. I actually tried in the mirror a few nights ago and I just couldn't get it,"
 
"Stick with it," I said. "It just takes a little practice and I agree with you, it is a very sexy smoking style." I then proceeded to casually let her know a bit of what I find sexy about smoking, my history with it. I mentioned that there was a large smoking fetish presence on the web and some sites even gave "lessons" to help new smokers learn. Just as casually she asked which one I would recommend. She was very cool.
 
"So how bad would I be if I admitted I wanted another one?" she asked with a smile.
 
"Bad," I said. "You would be very, very bad. Actually, you'd probably lose your drivers license and your right to vote." I kept teasing her, "So I guess the real question is, would it feel good or bad to smoke right now?"
 
Our eyes met. It was nice. Quietly she said, "It would feel good."
 
"So let me get this straight," I said. "You know have the choice of feeling good or bad. Seems pretty logical to me."
 
"Me too," she said with conviction. "I want to feel good being bad."
 
That cracked me up and was music to my ears. "Well," I said. "I am here to encourage your badness. I don't have anymore on me but I think there may be a few in my car which is right around the corner." I stood up from the table. "Want to take a walk"
 
"Let me see. I am about to walk to a total strangers car so we can have another cigarette, huh? Can I trust you?"
 
"I'd say the odds are 2 to 1," I said grinning.
 
There was only one problem amidst this unfolding fantasy. I wasn't sure if I actually had any cigarettes in the car. Not good. Kind of like bringing a girl home in high school and having your Mom barge in turn on the TV when you're getting ready to enjoy one of those mind blowing, teen-aged dry-humps. Lustus Interruptus. Can't really play that one off.
 
My car was parked about a block and a half away from the café. It was a warm, late afternoon and we chatted as we walked into the setting sun. I even liked the way she walked. Shoulders back with a little spring in her gait. We made small talk as we walked. She said her office was close by and she had left work a little early to pick up a gift for a friends birthday. I told her I had stopped for a coffee after a meeting and intended to head back to the office but was now thinking I might call it a day as well. While we chatted, we both knew of the unstated purpose for our stroll. We both found smoking erotic....and we were going to smoke together.
 
As we approached the intersection to make a left down the side street to my car, I thought again my lack of smoking essentials. Maybe there was a pack stuck away for a rainy day but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that if I didn't have any my fantasy come true was about to come to an abrupt halt. We made the left and I just about yelled when I saw what was in front of me.
 
All of a sudden, an oasis in the desert appeared. The dull, red light flickering "Liquor" created a big "Yes!" in my head.
 
"You know what," I casually said. "I am going to pick up a pack here, OK?" "Here" was a liquor store and it's bright, red neon sign looked like an oasis in the desert to me. I was on a roll.
 
"Do you need anything," I asked.
 
"I'm OK," she replied, "But I'll come in with you."
 
"I'll tell you what," I said. "I think you should pick out the cigarettes for your smoking lesson."
 
She laughed. "Why do I feel like I am buying drugs?"
 
"Well, you are," I said. "And the best thing about them is that they are legal."
 
We walked into the small liquor store and went to the front counter. She took a moment to survey the rows of cigarettes facing us. I could tell she was looking for something other that her usual brand. I guess she was looking at this as a special occasion as well.
 
As we were standing there, she leaned into me and grabbed my elbow to pull me closer to her. I was quite a bit taller and this movement had a certain feeling of a familiar relationship. It felt nice.
 
She whispered to me, "What are the brown ones called?"
 
"More's" I secretively whispered back at her, as if the name was a government secret. She gave me a playful slap on the arm, turned to the man behind the counter and said, "A pack of More's please."
 
"I'll get these," I said, reaching for my wallet.
 
"No, No," she insisted. "The teacher doesn't pay." Man, this woman was something else.
 
She set her money on the counter, grabbed the pack of extra long cigarettes, quickly put them in her purse, said thank you (I love polite women) and we headed out of the store to my nearby car.
 
I had recently purchased a relatively expensive SUV so I was kind of feeling like a big shot as opened the passenger side door for her. She climbed in and I shut the door behind her. I then opened the back door and put her shopping bag and my briefcase in the back seat. I walked around the other side, quickly catching my reflection in the back window for a quick hair check, took a deep breath to calm my excitement, opened my door and got in.
 
As I sat down we were each quiet for a second and then started to laugh.
 
"Do you feel like your 16, too," I asked.
 
"That's exactly how I feel," she said. "I think I need a smoke."
 
"Well, do you have any," I queried.
 
"Shit, I don't think so," she said while chuckling. "What do you know," she exclaimed. "It just so happens I have a pack right here," and she pulled the More's from her purse.
 
"Oh good, the brown ones," I replied. "My favorites."
 
She laughed as she started to unwrap the cellophane. "Oh wait," she said and then proceeded to pack them down on the back of her hand. "I always love doing that, even if I don't know why," she giggled.
 
After tearing back the piece of foil on the top of the cigarette pack, she reached her small fingers into the pack and carefully pulled one out, which she handed to me. She then took one for herself and stuck it in her lips.
 
"How do I look," she asked, obviously aware of the different width, length and color of the cigarette.
 
"The truth? Sexy as hell. I hope you don't mind me saying that." I suddenly became aware that this very beautiful Asian-American princess was sitting in the car with a complete stranger and the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.
 
"Good," she replied. "I was hoping you would say that."
 
I put the cigarette in my mouth. "How do I look?"
 
She took a second. "Like a drag queen without makeup." She cracked herself up on that one.
 
I laughed too. "Thanks a lot. You sure know how to make a man feel like a man. Are you ready," I asked as I pulled out my lighter.
 
"Absolutely," she replied. "Class is in session."
 
The air was charged with electricity. Two people brought together by chance, sharing a secret that can only be whispered to strangers. Looking into her eyes, I lit the flame and held it inches away from the cigarette placed between her strong, elegant fingers. She gave a little "hair flip" and slowly leaned forward, the long cigarette pursed between her full lips, her small mouth preparing to drag deep. As she did, she reached up and cupped my hand, pulling me toward her. Our hands touching sent an almost palpable shock through my body. As she started to softly caress my hand, it made it clear the feeling was mutual.
 
The flame caught the end of her cigarette and she pulled the fire in. She gave one small puff and exhaled the smoke out the side of her mouth, a bit like it was a cigar. She then clamped her mouth tighter around the tip and took one very long, very deliberate drag. Her cheeks were hollowed just slightly as her eyes focused at the end of her very long, brown cigarette.
 
Her inhale was deeply felt as well, immediately setting a tone for our encounter. It was indulgent. She had made up her mind that she was going down this road with me and that first drag was like a starter's gun going off.
 
She inhaled relatively deeply, turned to me with a very serious look on her face and after a brief moment staring into each others eyes... we both laughed hysterically. The only problem was that she had a lung full of smoke and as she started to laugh, I saw her face go from one of sheer joy to one that consisted of two very wide-eyeballs preparing for a really bad cough.
 
AAAAAHAAACKK!!! The smoke billowed out of her mouth. I felt terrible. I put my hand on her back. I kind of wanted to laugh.
 
"Shit!" she screamed just a second later after she caught her breath. "I suck."
 
"No, No," I protested. "It was very elegant. I really liked it when the little spit ball flew out of your mouth."
 
She laughed at that. I liked her.
 
She grabbed the lighter out of my hand and lit it. With a smile she said, "All right Mr. Smokey Pants," and then lowering her voice in her best Lauren Bacall, "Smoke for me."
 
As I put the cigarette to my lips, I noticed her watching my mouth. I lit the cigarette, gave a little extra "show" and exhaled in a tight stream past her face. She had a look of innocent fascination about the process and I could tell this was a deep seeded fetish of hers, probably one she never really acknowledged. That she chose to share it with me, a complete stranger made me feel very special and I wanted to make the experience one that was safe, fun and would provide her with a nice memory.
 
"OK, "she stated. "Now, I am really going to start smoking,"
 
"At least you know there's nothing in your lungs to cough up." I had to. She laughed again. We were doing a lot of laughing. Always a good sign.
 
She leaned back into the chair and calmly took a nice drag. She held the smoke with her lips closed for a quick second, opened her mouth slightly and inhaled quickly, with a noticeable heave to her chest. She didn't hold the smoke in very long and turned almost completely away from me to exhale toward the window I had opened a bit. She tried very hard to blow all the smoke to the opened window; even leaning towards it for the "multiple exhale" She was being polite.
 
"Now that's not going to work," I said.
 
"What?"
 
"Well, if you turn away from me like that it kind of defeats the purpose, huh?" I spoke to her in a polite and inviting manner.
 
Without a word she turned back towards me, gave a sweet, conciliatory grin and looked me right in the eye. She moved the cigarette close to her mouth and dragged slowly, the tip just to the right of the center. While pulling her lips off the cigarette, she inhaled, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. I was transfixed. After a brief moment, she again came eye to eye and with a slight purse to her lips, blew the rich smoke past the left side of my face, tantalizing close to my mouth.
 
I flashed a half-smile, "Thanks."
 
She smiled back, "Your welcome." She was quiet for a second. I was screaming inside. And then, "Can I do it again?"
 
She didn't wait for an answer but instead kept her eyes on mine, taking a soft, cheek-hollowing drag and exhaling toward me, still just missing my face. I could tell she was really enjoying the spell she was casting over me and I wasn't about to hide the fact that I was spellbound. The opportunity to share this special fetish with someone, especially a woman like her, was something I was going to fully enjoy. I think we had what is known as a symbiotic relationship.
 
The sexual energy in the car was becoming very obvious. I thought it best to kind of slow things down a bit and start in on some fun "smoking lessons." Something was telling me we were going to be spending a little time together. "Good things come to he who waits."
 
With my best radio announcer voice I turned to her and said, "Welcome Ladies and Gentleman to another edition of "You Too Can Smoke Sexy! Are you ready to play the game?"
 
She started laughing out loud, her perfect white teeth contrasting against her golden skin." Her laugh is easy and warm. "I'm ready Johnny!" she exclaimed.
 
"All Righty then, let's play the game. You have three categories in which to choose from. The first category is..."
 
Now I need to think. Do I ask her to work on things that I would like to see or do I start with the basics of holding and dragging? I quickly thought that I would include one trick that I really wanted to see and go with the basics on the other two.
 
"Dragging,"
 
"Yeah," she gleefully responded.
 
"The second category is, lighting."
 
"Woo, Woo!" She was really playing along.
 
"And finally, we have snap inhales. Or as the French like to call it 'le snap inhale'. You have 5 seconds." (Man, was I pulling for the French inhale.)
 
I hummed the theme to Jeopardy. She dramatically "felt" the pressure.
 
"OK, I've made my choice. And it was an easy one. I want to learn how to do a snap inhale."
 
"You say your answer is snap inhale? Is that your final answer?"
 
"Final answer Johnny."
 
"Any you are...right! The correct answer was C. Snap inhale. Congratulations..." I suddenly realized I didn't know her name! I had felt more intimacy with this woman in 30 minutes than I had felt in relationships with women for months. There was no way around it. Maintaining the radio voice I said, "What the hell is your name, anyway?"
 
While also maintaining her game show contestant persona she shouted back, "Kamiko!"
 
"And I'm Drew. Are you ready for your prize?"
 
Before she could answer, I took the still smoldering cigarette she was holding, opened my ashtray and snubbed it out.
 
"My prize is I don't smoke anymore?"
 
"That was just the warm-up smoke. This is the actual contest smoke," I said as I pulled out a fresh More. I held it out to here, the long brown cigarette almost looking like a wand. She took it with a smile and placed it to her lips. I brought the lighter to her and she took a nice, sharp drag while looking me right in the eye. There was no question the sexual tension was going to be looming no matter what kind of an idiot I made of myself.
 
"OK. Let's look at the steps of a snap inhale. You first need to hold the smoke in your mouth after you drag. It needs to billow in your mouth for a while. So take a drag, hold it with your mouth closed for a second and then inhale.
 
She brought the cigarette to her lips with the same determination as if she were learning how to drive. She drew on the cigarette and then held it in her mouth, her cheeks puffing out a little bit as she turned and looked towards me for some feedback.
 
"Now inhale slowly."
 
She did so, definitely enjoying the feeling of the smoke going deep in her lungs. She forcefully blew out the smoke and anxiously turned back toward me. "Perfect," I said with encouragement. "Now while you are holding the smoke, I want you to open your mouth just a little bit and think about "feeling" the smoke start to escape. When it does, or when you actually see some smoke coming out, inhale."
 
She purposefully puffed on the cigarette, held the smoke in her mouth and opened her lips very slowly, allowing me to see the rich, white smoke curling on top of her tongue. As the smoke started to escape, she leaned her head back as if to try and catch it. Realizing it was impossibility; she inhaled sharply and quickly exhaled out the open window.
 
"Nice," I said with admiration. "Tell me you haven't practiced in front of the mirror."
 
She laughed and said, "Well, to be honest, I did about a week ago. Its strange how quickly the idea of smoking took hold of me and I just got curious one night to see how I looked when I smoked. It was kind of late and I had just had a second glass of wine
 
My mind was racing with images.
 
"And...?"
 
"It was fun,"
 
She said it in a way that told me she masturbated. I was sure of it. Maybe.
 
"How fun was it?" No holding back now.
 
She answered my question with an open smile and one word, "Fun."
 
She brought the cigarette to her lips, looked me in the eye, dragged long and hard, held the smoke in her mouth, spread her lips slightly which attracted my eyes like a laser, and as the smoke started to spill out of her small, full lips, she quickly pulled it back in, creating a very passable snap on her first attempt.
 
She must have seen the look of astonishment on my face. "Not bad for a beginner, huh?"
 
"You are almost ready to turn pro," I said. "You're like some kind of child prodigy."
 
She took another drag. Again, the results were similar. A little larger amount of smoke made up the ball this time. She seemed to understand how this worked. "It's funny," she said after exhaling the smoke towards the window. "I think I just needed someone to tell me exactly how to do it. You were right. I can kind of "feel" the smoke." She took another drag and started to experiment with the smoke. I could tell she was concentrating on how much smoke to take, how long to hold it and how best to control it.
 
I silently watched her and then said, "Do you want to see something really cool?
 
"OK," she said with a willing voice.
 
I reached past her and pulled down the visor on the passenger side, exposing a mirror with a light. "Take a look," I said.
 
She caught her image in the mirror and instantly recognized its purpose. She again dragged hard and long on the cigarette only this time see stared intently at her own image, concentrating on nothing more than her mouth that was now filling with the thick smoke. She held her lips together tightly and then slowly opened them to reveal a thick, ball of smoke start to grow in her mouth. Now she could see how long to keep the ball of smoke alive and as it got to the point where it started to rise away, she powerfully inhaled it into her lungs, causing the smoke to disappear instantly only to reappear moments later in the shape of a soft, slowly exhaled cone directed right towards the mirror.
 
She looked at me with a satisfied smile on her face. She looked back to the mirror and repeated the process with equally successful results. As I was watching her and offering soft encouragement, I felt my cock start to grow, beginning to strain against my pants. As she continued on with her "lesson," I acted as if I was moving in my seat to get more comfortable and deftly slipped my hands into my pants and slid my growing cock upwards so it was not laying flat against my body. It was a relief.
 
She had just executed another snap, gaining confidence with each drag. Without moving her eyes away from the mirror she suddenly said, "Did you just do what I think you did?"
 
Busted.
 
"Nooo, "I said like a petulant child whose Mommy caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.
 
"You did. I saw you." She then turned to me and in a very quiet, soothing way said, "Does my smoking turn you on?"
 
I didn't even hesitate. "Yes,"
 
She turned her body completely towards mine.
 
"You like watching me smoke, don't you?" She was becoming a bit more bold and confident.
 
"Yes. I love watching you smoke." I decided to spill my guts. "I think you are incredibly beautiful and I am blown away right now."
 
She put the now short cigarette to her lips, pulled very slowly but with strength, her cheeks hollowing and took what would have to be the hardest drag of her life. She held the smoke in her mouth for an extra long time, letting it swirl around and then upon parting her lips, executed a perfect snap, letting the thick ball out of her mouth and while it still retained its form, pulled it sensually into her lungs.
 
While the smoke nestled in her lungs she leaned toward me, her face just inches from mine and quietly said, "Blown away?" With that she slowly began exhaling the smoke right into my face. A perfect cone directed towards my nose and mouth, surrounding me with the beautiful smell of exhaled smoke delivered by a sensuous, gorgeous woman. I was in ecstasy as my cock swelled to its full size, flat against my belly as I involuntarily moved my hips up to create some friction between my throbbing dick and my pants.
 
"I'm a little blown away myself," she whispered as she began to suck the last remaining smoke out of the almost extinguished cigarette. She again gave a perfect snap before blowing the smoke at me again, this time slower and more directed at my mouth. I inhaled what she gave me and as she kept her mouth close to mine, blew my exhale into her mouth as well.
 
We stayed like that for a few seconds before we slowly came together is a soft, slow, sensual kiss. There was no sense of urgency from either of us. It was as if we both new that this was going to be our first, "first kiss."
 
As we pulled away from each other, I felt like a boy in the 6th grade, sneaking a kiss with the pretty blonde girl in the third row. She looked a little shocked as well. And then a great thing happened. We both starting chuckling to ourselves as a way of acknowledging the power of the moment. Her cigarette was now almost gone as mine was as well. Instead of throwing it out the slightly open window and littering, something I hate as much as anything, she deftly opened the ashtray in my car and stubbed out the skinny brown cigarette, holding her index finger down on what was left and quickly turning it into the metal appendage. She even did this with style.
 
She broke the tension with, "I've decided. That is now my favorite café in the whole world."
 
I responded with, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. I am in a coma."
 
We leaned in for another kiss. This was more passionate, sexual in nature but with feeling. This was a special woman.
 
Suddenly she pulled away from me as if there was something wrong.
 
"Are you OK?" I asked.
 
"I want you to know something," she replied. "It is very important to me that you understand that I have never done anything like this in my life. I usually don't kiss a man until the fourth date and very few men have even gotten that far."
 
I felt honored and told her so.
 
"I don't know what you're doing to me," she said.
 
I thought about this for a second and said, "You trust me. And you should. You picked the right man to go down this road with. I promise." I picked up her hand and lightly kissed her palm.
 
"I know I did," she said. "Then let's get going down that road, OK."
 
"OK."
 
We sat in silence for a moment. Each caught up in our own thoughts as we lingered in the feeling of trust we had created. I knew that I wanted her. I wanted to take her home and make love to her. I wanted to wake up in the morning with her sleeping next to me. And for this very reason I decided to let her lead the way. I would try and keep my own desires in check. This had to be about her. I wanted it to be about her.
 
"What can I do for you, right now?" I quietly asked. "Anything you want. What would you like me to do?"
 
As I said this I kind of leaned into her, catching a whiff of her beautiful scent as my face brushed against her shoulder. As I did this, she slowly reached out and scratched the underside of my forearm with her nails. With her eyes focused on the rhythmic movement of her strong yet delicate hand against the muscles of my arm, she said in almost hypnotic tones, "I want to smoke."
 
Moving my face next to hers, our cheeks touching lightly, I reached behind me and grabbed for the cigarettes. As I did, I hoped they were where I left them, within easy reach. If they had fallen on the floor it would have meant me pulling away from her, something I didn't want to do. Luckily, I felt them immediately. The Gods were on my side. Perhaps they recognized a perfect moment.
 
I carefully removed a long cigarette from the pack and brought it to her lips, my face still flush against hers, each of us feeling that wonderful closeness you feel with someone for the first time. Her lips wrapped around the smoke, almost like a baby suckling a nipple. I reached into the console for the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. She didn't move her hand up to hold the cigarette, rather she drew deeply, hollowing her cheeks and when it was fully lit, let a plume of uninhaled smoke out the side of her mouth. She took another drag, inhaled strongly with an audible breath and held the cigarette between her teeth as she drew the smoke deep in her lungs. I thought I heard her moan and I could almost feel the white smoke entering her body. With my proximity to her face it was as if I too were smoking that cigarette. She then exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift from her mouth. I was right there. It was beautiful. It was sensual. It was sexual.
 
I reached up and pulled the cigarette from her mouth, holding it just inches away from her. I leaned further in and brushed my mouth against her neck. She sighed softly as she pushed her neck against my mouth. I could feel her shiver. I then moved the cigarette back to her mouth, moving away from her neck so I could watch and held it as she dragged again. This time it was as if she attacked the cigarette. She forcefully pulled on it, making the tip burn red hot. As she finished her drag and inhaled deeply I started to move it away. She quickly brought her hand to mine and pushed the cigarette back into her mouth. This time her drag was lengthy as she fought to get as much smoke into her lungs as possible. As her lips came off the filter she held them together. She then slowly and methodically opened her mouth, the smoke billowing between her lips. Just as it was beginning to escape, she began a perfect, slow snap inhale, adding this enormous quantity of smoke to her already filled lungs before slowly turning her head towards mine.
 
I was mesmerized. As she looked directly into my eyes, she leaned into me and softly blew her smoke into my face, bathing me, filling me with that incredibly enticing smell of freshly exhaled smoke. I reflexively opened my mouth as her residual exhale found its mark. I inhaled her gift. It felt good.
 
I was almost frozen as I stared at her and she at me. She reached for my hand again to bring the cigarette to her lips. With her other hand she reached out and softly cupped the side of my face. She drew hard, inhaled harder and once again leaned into me, pulling me towards her with her hand. This time, she leaned in as if to kiss me and instead, stopped just short and once positioned over my waiting mouth, let loose with a long, stream of smoke which I inhaled greedily. This was turning me on so much I couldn't stand it. My cock was hard against my belly and this was obviously getting to her as well. She began squirming in her seat as she reached out again for the cigarette I was holding and repeated her actions. This time she exhaled more forcefully into my mouth and I inhaled just as aggressively. She was hot now and was obviously making a strong connection between smoking and sex. It was as if we had progressed from our sexual foreplay and our lovemaking was getting more intense. She continued sucking down the smoke and blowing it into my mouth, each time faster than before with more force. It was if we were getting close to orgasm, to cumming together in a melding of bodies. Just when it couldn't get anymore intense, something quite unexpected happened.
 
It was so sudden it was as if someone pulled the plug from the wall. With a physical quaking of her body and an almost anguished, frustrated yell, she stopped what she was doing. It was like she had stretched her rope as far as it would go and it recoiled on her...and me.
 
"What's wrong?" I said with a startled voice. The look in her eyes was almost fearful of what she had just done. She put her head down. I could tell she was struggling.
 
"I don't know...I just...I don't know...this is not what I normally do...I don't..." She was stammering trying to make sense of everything. I immediately felt such protection over her, over her emotions and I felt terrible that I helped create this situation that was causing her so much distress.
 
"Hey, hey. It's OK." I said with a friendly voice. "Please don't worry about it. OK?" I really wanted her to feel better. I grabbed her hand. "Let's just take it easy for a while. Everything's fine."
 
I tried to catch her eye with my smile but I could tell she was really having a hard time with the way she just let herself go. And with a stranger no less! To be honest, her reaction was about the most endearing thing I could have imagined. I wanted to be with her more than ever. This was a woman of substance.
 
"Look," she finally said to me, raising her head a bit. I think I saw a tear in her eye. "I think it's best if I go." She dropped her head again. "I'm sorry."
 
Turning away from me she quickly opened the door and before I could stop her, she got out and began walking quickly down the street, back towards the café where we met. Back to her car.
 
I couldn't believe it. How could she just walk away like that? What did I do wrong" One thing I knew. I had never felt that kind of connection with a woman in my life. There wasn't a chance in hell she was getting away from me.
 
"Hey! HEY!" I yelled after her as she quickly walked, almost jogged up the now darkened street. I moved after her, imploring her with as soothing a tone as I could muster to stop and talk. I felt terrible that this incredible woman was upset and I wanted nothing more than to make her feel better.
 
Catching up to her I gently took her elbow and as I did, she became stiff and stood motionless. I could hear her softly sobbing. She turned to me and with a tear in her eye said the two words that instantly turned my confusion into understanding.
 
"I'm married."
 
While the disappointment hit me like a punch in the stomach it was short-lived as I took her into my arms with the most consoling hug I could muster. I knew our time together this night was unique departure for her and all I felt was a sense of protectiveness over her feelings.
 
Whispering in her ear I told her that I understood and I would never do anything to disrupt her marriage. She responded with a crooked smile and said, "You already have you fucker." We both laughed at that but probably for different reasons. I felt I needed to let her know that I wasn't the kind of guy to pursue a married a woman and her response served as both a tonic and a period on our all too short time together. "I know," she said softly. "Why do you think I'm crying?"
 
It wasn't quite Bogart and Bacall but with a quick kiss on my cheek she turned and walked away leaving me with a memory that I'm sure will last a lifetime.
 
I'd like to have been able to end this story with a description of the torrid love affair we shared, filled with open-minded explorations and a desire to pleasure each other in every way. But sometimes life doesn't work out that way. One thing I learned from this unforgettable experience is that you never know what's around the corner. So take a look. You might just find you like the view.

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