The woman on the phone was interested in buying a house. The woman at the door was, presumably the lady from the Yellow Pages. I came to this conclusion because it was about three o’clock, and in addition to a brief case, she was also holding a phone book. To my thirteen-year-old eyes she looked like a model. She was tall, blonde and gorgeous. She was wearing a cream-colored button up satin blouse and a short black skirt. She looked just like one of the models from the Virginia Slims ads. She also looked like Amanda. If you’re wondering who Amanda is, she’s one of the ladies on the Southern Charms web site.
She had a look of amused doubt on her face. The amusement seemed to be with a boy on the phone smoking a cigarette. The doubt was probably her thinking she was at the wrong place.
My heart was racing as I tried to remain calm; acting like smoking was the most natural thing in the world. For some reason, smoking in front of this woman made me more nervous (as well as more excited and aroused) than it had been in front of Linda earlier in the day. Maybe it was because she was younger and more glamorous than Linda.
“May I place you on hold for just one second?” I asked the woman on the phone after exhaling the puff I had just taken.
She said of course and I placed her on hold. I then took another drag and turned my attention to the Yellow Pages lady.
“You must be Miss Blackburn,” I said, hoping I got her name right.
The doubtful look she first had was gone. She still seemed amused, however.
“Call me Melinda,” she said with a smile as she watched me exhale.
Whereas Linda didn’t seem to notice (or pretended not to notice) my smoking earlier, this woman seemed entertained by it. That was fine with me. My one fear was that an adult would get angry with my smoking.
“I’m sorry to ask,” I said while proudly holding my cigarette next to my face, “but would you mind waiting while I take care of this woman. We’re just starting out here and I’m afraid if I don’t help her now she’ll just call another realtor.”
“Not at all,” she smiled, looking around a bit, as to see if this was some kind of joke.
“You can have a seat there,” I said, indicating our little waiting room, “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
I took a puff and got out a form for buyers from my desk as she went to sit down.
“I suppose its okay for me to smoke?” she asked whimsically as I was about to get back on the phone.
Since she seemed to find this whole thing amusing, I decided to say something amusing;
“I’d prefer that you didn’t,” I said, pausing for a drag from my Virginia Slim, “The smell really bothers me.”
She let out a laugh. Probably one she’d been holding in since she first entered the office.
“Of course you can,” I smiled while exhaling, “There’s an ashtray there on the table.”
As I got back on the phone and started taking the lady’s information I continued to smoke away. I was taking bigger exhales than usual. I also watched the woman through the corner of my eye.
Whenever I found out that a woman smoked without actually seeing her smoke first, I was always fascinated to see what her brand was.
After she had settled her things and sat down, Melinda pulled a black leather cigarette pouch from her purse. The cigarette she extracted from it was all-white and seemed to be a 100. She lit up the cigarette and set the pouch on the coffee table. She had a wonderful smoking style. She’d bring the cigarette to her lips and spread her fingers in a perfect “V” while taking a cheek-hollowing drag. When she was done with her drag she’d snap her fingers shut and remove the cigarette and make a little puckering sound, as if kissing the cigarette good-bye. She then would lick her lips with the tip of her tongue as she held the smoke in, then position her lips as if she were about to whistle and exhale a thin, endless stream of smoke through her lips. It was just the way I’d imagined those ladies in the Virginia Slims ads smoked.
The woman on the phone gave very long answers to the questions I asked. I used the times while she was talking to take puffs from my cigarette. Once, after putting out my Virginia Slim and lighting another, I looked at Melinda and raised my eyebrows, indicating that the woman on the phone sure liked to a lot. Melinda gave me a nod and a smile, letting me know she understood.
I was still on the phone when Melinda finished her cigarette. She didn’t seem amused now as much as she seemed bored. When she picked up her cigarette pouch I thought she was getting ready to leave. Instead, she took out another cigarette and lit up.
I had put out my cigarette and she was halfway through with hers when I finally got off the phone.
“I’m sorry that took so long,” I said as I grabbed my cigarettes and lighter and stood up.
“That’s alright,” she said, seeming amused again, “Is Staci here?”
“Unfortunately,” I said as I walked around my desk and set the cigarettes and lighter on the coffee table, “She had something come up and asked me to take care of this. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you the…” I think she almost said ‘Lady”, “Are you the person I talked to on the phone yesterday?”
“Yes,” I said, then held my hand out to her, “I’m sorry. I’m Joey.”
She switched her cigarette to her left hand and shook mine with her right.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, “Are you, like…”
“Am I like…?” I wasn’t sure what she was asking.
“Are you, like, the secretary here?”
“Yes,” I said proudly.
“I’m sorry, but,” she hesitated, then asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“And your mother lets you smoke?”
“Well,” I said, searching for the words, “She doesn’t really know I smoke, so she hasn’t had the chance to let me smoke or not.”
That made her smile.
“I like the way you phrased that,” she said, then had another question, “Aren’t you afraid she’ll notice you’ve been smoking when she gets back?”
“Oh,” I said, realizing her false assumption, “Staci’s not my mom. She’s just my boss.”
“You’re not her son?” she said after taking a drag. She seemed confused again.
“No,” I said, “But she’s friends with my mom. They used to work together.”
“Okay,” she said, stubbing out her cigarette, “And Staci lets you smoke behind your mother’s back?”
“Well…,” I hedged, “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” she grinned, “Then when?”
“Excuse me?”
“When will she let you smoke?”
“Oh,” I understood, “Hopefully when I tell her. I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“I see,” she said, trying to make sense of the situation, “Aren’t you afraid that if you smoke so openly in front of grown-ups, like, say me for example, that they might not be so understanding. And that they might tell Staci you’ve been smoking.”
I didn’t get the impression that she was threatening me.
“Before we go on,” I said, remembering the wine.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything,” she said, thinking I was about to protest, “I’m sorry for all the questions. I didn’t mean to imply I was going to tell on you. I’m just nosy.”
“No,” I didn’t think that at all. It’s actually nice to have someone to talk about this with. I was just going to say before we go on could I offer you some wine.”
“That actually sound good,” she laughed, “Don’t tell me you drink too?”
“Well not really. But Staci’s given me a couple of sips,” I said as I headed towards Staci’s office, “We have the pink kind. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” she must have thought that was cute, “I love the pink kind.”
I grabbed one of the extra mugs and went to Staci’s office to fill it with the wine.
“I hope you don’t mind drinking it from a coffee cup,” I said as I handed her the mug.
“No,” she assured me, “I drink it that way occasionally.”
I sat in the chair next to hers while she took a sip.
“You know,” she said as she picked up her pouch, “We have something in common.”
“We do,” I said, wondering what that could be.
“We smoke the same brand,” she said as she pulled a pack of Virginia Slims halfway from her pouch to show me, “You have good taste for...”
She stopped herself because she thought she was going to hurt my feelings, but I finished her thought.
“For a kid,” I smiled, letting her know I was okay with that.
“Well yes,” she smiled back while shaking a cigarette from the pack, “And even without the smoking, you seem pretty mature for a kid too.”
“Thank you,” I said as I reached for my pack, “You have good taste too. These are actually Staci’s, but I like them a lot.”
“Have you tried other brands?” she asked.
“A lady this morning gave me some Saratoga’s. They were okay, but I like the Virginia Slims better.”
She lit her cigarette and had some more wine. I got a cigarette from my pack and reached for my lighter, but she surprised me by holding the flame of her lighter out to me. I leaned in and realized it was the first time a lady, or anyone for that matter, had lit my cigarette. I thought about touching the back of her hand with mine, like Staci did when I lit a cigarette for her. I didn’t though.
“Thank you again,” I said after I got my cigarette lit.
“You’re welcome,” she said as she exhaled and had another sip of wine, “So I’m not the only adult you’ve smoked with?”
“No,” I said, getting braver by the minute, “But you’re the prettiest.”
“Oh- and he’s a flirt too!” she laughed, “What did she think of your smoking.”
“Nothing, really,” I said, “She just acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. She didn’t ask me about it at all.”
“She wasn’t as nosy as me, huh?”
“I really don’t mind the questions,” I said after taking a puff and flicking my ash.
She looked like she was going to say something, but just stared at me with a strange smile on her face instead.
“Yes?” I finally asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “It’s just kinda strange sitting here and smoking with a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, moving to put the cigarette out.
“Don’t do that,” she said, moving the ashtray out from under my cigarette as I was about to put it out, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just kind of different, but not bad.”
She gave me a little smile then took a puff from her cigarette.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Smoke away.”
I then took a puff too.
“So you really don’t mind the questions?” she asked, then took a sip of wine.
“Not at all,” I assured her, “What were you asking me before I offered you the wine?”
She thought for a second, then asked, “Weren’t you afraid that I, or the Saratoga lady from this morning, would rat you out to Staci?”
“Can I be honest with you?” I asked.
“Sure. But first why don’t you get me some more wine.”
I set my cigarette in the ashtray and took her surprisingly empty mug from her. As I went to get the wine I decided I would be as I honest as I could, to a point, with this lady.
“This meeting is not going anywhere near the way I thought it would,” she shouted to me from the waiting room.
“Yeah?” I said as I entered the room and handed her the wine.
“I mean that in a good way,” she said as I sat down and took my cigarette from the ashtray, “Okay. You can start being honest.”
“Well,” I said, trying to decide where to start, “As far as being worried about someone telling Staci I was smoking; I’m not that concerned. I’m pretty sure she’d let me smoke with her if I asked.”
“The why don’t you?”
“There are two reasons, I guess,” I tried to explain, “First, I wanna make sure I’m doing it right.”
“Doing what right?” she stopped me before I could go on.
“Smoking,” I said.
“You seem to be doing it right to me,” she said, then added, “Wait a minute. Just how long have you been smoking?”
I thought about lying. Maybe she wouldn’t be so okay with my smoking if she knew I just started.
“Since yesterday,” I said, opting for the truth.
“Really?” she was truly surprised, “but you tried it before that, right?”
“No. Yesterday was the first time.”
“And it’s not making you sick?” she said, not seeming to believe me, “And you like it already? Enough to like one brand better than another?”
“I got sick yesterday. I thought I was going to throw up, as a matter of fact,” I confessed, “But I’ve been taking smaller puffs, and so far, so good.”
I punctuated that with an inhale, then stubbed out the spent Virginia Slim.
“And even though it made you sick,” she asked, “You still wanted to do it?”
“Once I figured out how to inhale without choking or coughing I liked the feeling it gave me. I don’t mean the effects of the cigarette, but just that fact that I was smoking.”
“I understand,” she smiled, then took a final puff from her cigarette and put it out too, “You were doing an adult thing. Every teenager, even a thirteen-year-old, wants to feel grown up.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Okay,” she then said, “So you said there were two reasons you haven’t asked Staci to let you smoke. You want to be able to do it right first, which you seem to be doing, I might add. What’s the other reason?”
“This will sound weird,” I said.
“Don’t worry. Believe me; I’ve heard some weird stuff. I won’t judge you.”
“Okay,” I said, a little reassured, “I kind of want her to catch me.”
“That’s not weird,” she said sincerely, “Part of the excitement in doing something forbidden is that you might get caught.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “That makes sense. Can I tell you another reason I don’t want to ask her.”
“There are three reasons now?” she smirked, “Sure. What’s the other reason?”
“Well…” I was trying to put my thoughts into words.
“Go on,” she said, leaning towards me.
“I think it would be, I don’t know… cool, I guess, if she was the one to suggest that I smoke with her.”
“You mean if she were to, just say, offer you a cigarette? Or even a puff, like when she let you sip wine?”
“Yeah,” I said, happy she understood.
“That would kind of excite you, right?” she said with a sly smile, then took a sip from her mug.
I didn’t respond right away. I was hoping she didn’t mean that in a sexual way. It would excite me sexually, but I didn’t want to let this lady know that. Maybe she wouldn’t smoke in front of me again (or maybe she’d leave,) if she thought anything about smoking excited me that way.
“Well…” I stammered. I could feel my face getting red.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said with a hint of concern in her voice, “It could be very exciting to do what is regarded as a grown-up thing with, what I presume, is an attractive woman.”
She really had me pegged. I hope she didn’t know the extent of my “excitement,” but she seemed to understand.
“Why, I even know a lot of grown men who find women who smoke to be very sexy?”
“Really?” I thought, as well as said out loud.
Were there really other guys out there that thought smoking was sexy? Did they feel about it the same way I did? The thought that other guys got aroused by smoking women never occurred to me. I had just assumed that I was the only one. That’s a little arrogant, I thought. That of all the people in the world I was the only one with these feelings. It started to make sense that I wasn’t alone.
“Really,” she answered as I played that all out in my head. She seemed to notice I had just had this realization, but didn’t say anything about it.
Instead she reached for her cigarette pouch and took out a Virginia Slim.
“Are you going to join me?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, getting a cigarette from my pack and getting my lighter before she could get hers.
I held the flame to the tip of her cigarette. Just like Staci, she steadied the back of my slightly shaking hand with hers. Did women always do this when men lit their cigarettes, or was it just because my shaking was obvious? I thought about asking her as I lit my Virginia Slim, but she asked me something first.
“So tell me, honestly; do you really like the taste of those?”
“I think so. But part of me thinks it might just be the…” I searched for another word, but settled on, “the ‘excitement’ of smoking.”
“But you said you like Virginia Slims better than Saratoga’s, right?”
“Right,” I said, understanding what she was getting at, “Maybe because the Virginia Slims were the first ones I tried.”
“Do you still have them?”
“The Saratoga’s?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Huh-huh,” I answered.
“Go get them?”
I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I went to my desk and got the pack of 120s while she drank some more wine.
“Those are those long ones,” she said when she saw the pack.
“They’re 120s,” I said as I handed her the pack, “Are you ready for some more wine?”
“I shouldn’t…” she said unconvincingly, “…but what the hell.”
I let her finish off the wine in the mug and just went to get the bottle from Staci’s office.
When I returned from Staci’s office with the wine, Melinda was holding a freshly-lit Saratoga in one hand and a freshly-lit Virginia Slim in the other. Our two half-smoked cigarettes were extinguished in the ashtray. I’d never seen a woman holding two lit cigarettes at once. Especially such a sexy woman. I filled her mug and set the bottle down on the table.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” she said, “Just sit back down.”
I did as I was told.
“Now close your eyes,” she said.
I gave her a weird look.
“You can trust me,” she assured me.
I closed my eyes.
“Keep them closed,” she commanded, “No peeking. Now, I’m gonna put one cigarette in your mouth and you take a puff.”
“Why?” I asked, still with my eyes closed, and now becoming very aroused.
“I wanna see if you can tell one from the other.”
“Ohhh,” I said, finally getting it.
“Don’t peek, now.”
“I won’t.”
She then placed one of the cigarettes in my mouth and held it there.
“Okay,” she said, “Puff.”
I could feel her fingers against my lips. It was wonderful. I took one of my medium-sized inhales. I really had no idea which one it was.
After I exhaled, she waited a few seconds and put the next one in my mouth. I tried to make sure the inhale was the same. I exhaled that puff and tried to see if I noticed a difference. I couldn’t tell.
“Okay,” she instructed, “Open your eyes. Which one was the first?”
“I couldn’t tell,” I confessed, “They both tasted like the Saratoga.”
She laughed.
“What?” I asked, feeling self-conscience.
“They both were the Saratoga,” she said, still giggling, “I was trying to trick you. Okay; close your eyes again and I’ll be good this time.”
We repeated the exercise again, and this time I noticed a difference.
“The first one was the Virginia Slim,” I said confidently, not even waiting for her to ask.
“Are you sure?” she teased.
“Yes,” I said.
“And you liked that one better?”
“Yeah,” I said, “A little.”
She gave me a smile.
“So,” I asked, “Was I right?”
“You were right,” she admitted, “Which one do you want?”
She held both cigarettes out to me and I took the Virginia Slim.
“Stinker,” she said.
“We can swap,” I said, holding the Virginia Slim out to her.
“That’s okay,” she said after taking a puff off the Saratoga, “These aren’t too bad. Just really long. It’s like smoking a totem pole.”
I laughed at her joke.
“So,” she said after another puff and sip, “I suppose we better get to business.”
“That’s right,” I said, starting to forget why she was here in the first place.
“I have one more question about your smoking, though.”
“That’s fine,” I told her.
“Did you plan on smoking in front of me,” she said, “or did I just happen to catch you when I came in.”
I wondered if I should be truthful with my answer, or rather, just how truthful.
“I planned it, I guess,” I eventually said, “I mean, it wasn’t really a plan or anything. I had just decided that I would smoke in front of you when you got here.”
“Did you already know that I smoked?”
“No,” I told her.
“Didn’t you want to wait to see if I was a smoker first?”
“With the Saratoga lady this morning, I waited until she lit up before I did,” I said, deciding how much I’d tell her as I went on, “I can be honest with you, right?”
“Of course,” she said, giving a reassuring smile.
“Well,” I continued, “It made me really…”
I thought about saying “Horny” or “Aroused”, but she helped finish my sentence by saying the word we had used earlier.
“Excited,” she said, then took a sip and puff.
“Yeah,” I said, “Excited. Like you said earlier, it’s the thrill of doing something ‘grown up’ in front of a grown-up.”
“Would it have been that thrilling if it had been in front of a man?” she asked.
“God no,” I said a little too quickly as I stubbed out my cigarette.
She laughed at that, and I must have turned a little red.
“I’m not laughing at what you said,” she assured me, “Just the way you said it. How come not in front of a man?”
“I don’t know,” I lied, “I guess I’d just feel weird smoking in front of a man.”
“That’s cool,” she said, taking a final puff from the Saratoga and putting it out.
I was glad she didn’t seem to want to explore that subject any more.
“Anyway,” I said, “Before you got here I had just told myself that I would be smoking when you came at three.”
“And did it make you,” she paused a little, “excited when I came in?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, “And nervous.”
“Really,” she said as she picked up her cigarette pouch, “Because you didn’t seem nervous at all. It sort of caught me off guard, walking in and seeing this kid smoking a cigarette like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“Believe me,” I said, “I was trying to look like it was no big deal, but my heart was racing.”
She took two cigarettes from her pack and put them both in her mouth. Did she know what she was doing to me? She looked so sexy as she lit them both up. She kept one in her mouth and handed me the other. She took a huge inhale before removing her Virginia Slims from her lips.
“Are you excited now to smoke in front of me?”
“Yeah,” I said, pausing a little too long, “but not the same as before, when you were a stranger. I guess it was just the anticipation of letting a woman see me smoking for the first time. Now it’s just kinda cool sitting here and smoking with you.”
“This is bringing back so many memories,” she said as she finished off the last of her wine. She seemed to be somewhere else.
“What do you mean?” I asked, then grabbed the bottle and refilled her mug without asking. If she had any objections, she didn’t express them.
“What?” she asked, coming back to me from wherever she’d just been in her mind.
“You said this was bringing back memories,” I reminded her, “What did you mean?”
“I was just remembering when I started smoking,” she said, “How much time do we have until your boss comes back?”
“She said she be back by five,” I answered, then remembered that Staci had asked me to call my mom and let her know I might be home late. I thought about excusing myself to call Mom from Staci’s office, but decided to wait.”
“How ‘bout I tell you how I started smoking, and then we’ll get down to getting you an ad in the Yellow Pages?” she said before taking a sip of her wine.
“Sure,” I said, relishing the thought of learning how this beautiful woman became a smoker. I was glad I hadn’t stopped her to go call my mother.
“But first you have to pour yourself a little wine,” she smiled, “I hate drinking alone. Besides, you’ll love it with a cigarette.”
“Okay,” I said, not mentioning that I had tried that before she had arrived.
“Cool,” she smiled, then lowered her voice, “Actually, before I start my story, could I use the ladies room?”
She seemed a little silly, and that made her sexier. I pointed to the bathroom and she set her wine and cigarette down, then excused herself.
I used the opportunity to call my mom and work and let her know I might be late. She said that was fine, as she might be going out for drinks after work. We drink at my work, I thought to myself.
I went and got my mug, filled it half-way, then sat back down with my cigarette and wine in hand and waited for Melinda to come out of the restroom and tell me how she started smoking.
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