Re : What Is Your ALL-TIME Most Memorable Smoking Fetish Moment? -- Don
Geez, mine is awfully simple compared to some of the others. In addition, mine doesn't even involve a lighted cigarette, which I suppose makes it weird.
Thirty-some years ago, I had the occasion to be in the company of a very good-looking, extraordinarily sexy woman who coached gymnastics. She was small, with not an ounce of fat, very well built, with lush dark hair and a face that was part ingenue, part seductress. (By the way, both of us were married, and although I was tempted, I did nothing about the temptation. From all I could tell, she was not the least bit tempted by me.)
For a few weeks, we were thrown together at various events. I suppose I saw her a total of five times. From the start, I was enchanted by her looks and her manner, and, of course, I wondered with all my might whether she was a smoker.
I was naive. I figured a gymnastics coach (and former gymnast) probably was not a smoker. After all, she was in perfect shape, plus she always had a bunch of young girls around her. I figured her for a workout fiend, and I figured that she probably couldn't smoke, as the girls would notice, tell their parents, and she'd get fired for being a bad example.
The fourth of the five times I saw her was at a performance of her students. It went on for a few hours, and I kept my eye on her as much as possible. At no time could she have sneaked away for a cigarette.
Finally, toward the end of the night, she asked for a few volunteers to help move some equipment. I was one of the volunteers.
As we moved stuff, I noticed her black (I can still see it) handbag, a big, bulky, shapeless thing plunked on a folding chair. With some difficulty, I angled close to it, and there I saw a magnificent, gleaming white and green pack of Salem 100 full flavors. (This was the era before lights were at all popular.)
God, right there in that small gym, I got a case of smoking-fetish stiffness. I couldn't believe my luck, I couldn't believe how the fetish seems to pay off when we're diligent enough.
With my new-found knowledge, I made one more effort. A few days later, I arranged to be at her office, and when the time seemed right, I knocked on her door and asked if she had a few minutes to chat. She was happy to.
Remember, those were the days when smoking in offices was completely normal, acceptable. And I was smoking in those days, so I had my cigarettes prominently in my chest pocket.
We talked for probably 20 minutes, and in that time, she let slip very, very casually that when she had been a gymnast in college, she would quit smoking during the season. Whoa.
But two terrible things happened. First, she never lit up. Second, she informed me she and her husband were moving away very soon. She had gotten a better job in a faraway state. I never saw her again.
Still, the thrill of spotting those Salems in that purse was beyond compare. I still can see that face, that body and that gorgeous pack of cigarettes.
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