–
I looked into making a website and was surprised how easy it had become. I set up a video poll. Viewers would see short clips of females smoking cigarettes and rate how much they liked them. They needed to enter generic data about themselves, their gender, age, and if they smoked or not. I put up videos of forty girls smoking and paid a company to advertise the site.
Unsurprisingly, most female viewers who didn’t smoke were unimpressed or repelled by other ladies smoking. The few that stayed on the site long enough to rate any gave most of them one to three out of ten. Females who smoked were only a little more generous, with ratings of two to seven.
Most males who didn’t smoke were less harsh and gave ratings of three to eight. Of the men who smoked, the ratings were anywhere from six to ten. Their average rating for Cassie was 9.3, but I thought she deserved at least a 9.9
I had paid a few thousand to setup the site and have a web designer make it more appealing and functional, but I had no plans to make money off it. It was part of my research, and a good excuse for me to record Cassie more often.
I thought I could get more information from the price men would pay to download videos of the ladies smoking. Out of around 10,000 repeat viewers, six hundred paid 99 cents each to download 15-minute videos. I raised it to $1.99, and 200 were willing to pay. At $4.99 forty of them did, equal to twenty bucks an hour just to see a girl smoke.
I put up an ad for a new one from Cassie and about twenty paid $9.99 to see her smoke two cigarettes while fully clothed! I added another short video with a college girl smoking in a one-piece swimsuit. It was only fifteen minutes and I charged $19.99. I thought surely nobody would pay that much. Astoundingly, fifteen men did!
I tried again and set a ridiculous price of $199.99 for 30 minutes of Cassie smoking in shorts and a t-shirt. At the time some call girls charged the same for intercourse and most street hookers were cheaper. Four men were willing to pay two hundred bucks, just to watch her smoke!
I thought a little and realized that I would too. I decided I should give her a raise.
–
Later I called Cassie and asked, “Would you like to do another video soon? I’ll pay a hundred for a half hour.”
“Cool, but I’m kind of busy. I have a job now. How about Monday afternoon?”
“Sure. See you then.”
I did a few interviews with other girls, while I eagerly waited for Monday to arrive.
On Monday she wore sandals, jean shorts, and a short-sleeved purple top with glitter around the collar. She had on a black necklace with ten or so small purple stones on individual pendants. I could see a slight bit of her white bra.
“It’s chilly out, but I thought you’d like shorts again.” She smiled.
I told her, “Nice! I set up a website for videos of the ladies I interview. No nudity or anything weird. I’ll need more videos with you wearing different clothes. Next time can you wear a skirt or a dress with high heels? Maybe next week?”
“Two weeks, on Monday again. I’m busy with work and some things, but okay.” She smiled and said, “You got better pillows for the couch. Cool.” She laid on her back on the sofa and lit up. I felt a slight movement in my boxers as I viewed her smooth legs and watched her smoke.
I told a little too much of the truth. “I got two new cameras with better resolution, too, so the smoke and your beautiful hair will show more clearly. And a polarized filter, so the shine on your pretty lips …”
She interrupted, “So you enjoy how I look? Do you think I’m sexy?”
I blushed and admitted, “Very.”
“I asked if you wanted a date before. On a date you could talk to me, watch me smoke, even kiss me. Maybe more than kiss me. You won’t take me on a date, but you’re paying a hundred bucks just to record me smoking?”
“Um … yes.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head a little. “That is TOO messed up!” I watched her smoke two more cigarettes as she reclined on the couch. She asked, “Why do you have to be like that?”
“What?”
“You don’t want to be with me but you look like you’re starving and I’m a candy bar. Could you just leave the cameras on, and go do something else?”
“Sorry. I … you’re just so very beautiful. You really are.”
She blushed and smiled as she smoked one more before she left.
–
She returned Monday afternoon with tight curls in her blonde hair and wonderfully applied cosmetics on her face. Her long fake lashes and bright red lipstick drew my attention like magnets. She was wearing a red prom dress and red high heels. The plunging neckline showed so much cleavage I rapidly had a hardon. She asked, “Do you like it?”
I whistled. “Whew! Very nice!”
She blushed and smiled as she slowly turned around. “Thanks. I hope my boyfriend will like it. The Winter Formal dance is Friday night.”
The word ‘boyfriend’ hit me like a slap. I was disappointed but pushed myself to be nice. “If he has eyes and likes girls, I’m sure he’ll love it. Have a seat. Would you like orange juice again?”
She looked at the wine rack behind the bar. “Mom let me have a glass of white wine last weekend. I like it and I haven’t tried red. Please?”
“Uh …” She had only recently turned 19, but I wasn’t sure how I should say ‘no’.
“I live next door. Just one glass? I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Um … I guess.”
I poured the wine and said, “I got a new camera that’s good for low-light. I’d like you to do something different for this video. I’ll turn most of the lights off and light a bunch of candles. It should give a subdued and romantic effect. Would you light your cigarettes from a candle?”
“Okay.”
I thought she looked very mature and seductive, as she held the wine glass delicately and smoked in the dimmed light. I got a few close-ups of her holding cigarettes between her lips and leaning down to light them from the tip of the candle flame. For a moment I could see part of an areola as she leaned forward.
She had her legs crossed in a ladylike way. I took a few steps back and sat on the carpet, to get a good shot of her bottom resting on the stool and her high heels dangling just off the floor. As she set the empty glass on the bar and licked her lips, I sighed and involuntarily said, “My gawd! Those legs! Those lips! You’re GORGEOUS!”
She said, “You’re making this WAY too weird! Bye.” I stared at her butt as she walked up the stairs and left.
I called her the next day and the day after, but she didn’t answer. I figured I should give her some time. Two weeks later she answered when I called. “Cassie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or scare you.”
“It’s not that. You don’t know what you want and I kind of like you. But I have a boyfriend now.”
“I’m sorry. Can we just go back to being friends, like the first few times you came over? I got a pool table and a dart board. Would you like to just play darts or pool like friends?”
“I’m pretty busy.”
“I’ll pay you. How about a hundred to just hang out and play for a few hours? No touching and no staring at you.” I must have sounded desperate, but I missed her so much that I didn’t care.
I heard her sigh. “I could use the money. I guess.”
“Great! Friday night?”
“I have a date. Wednesday?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
When she walked down the stairs the next Wednesday afternoon, I saw she was wearing sneakers, jeans, and one of her black tops that didn’t show much. She had minimal makeup on, only pink lipstick. I said, “No touching and no staring, I promise.”
I turned on the cameras and recorded her as we played four or five games of pool. Several times, they recorded her nice breasts hanging down in her shirt as she leaned forward. Her nipples were covered by her bra, but I could see most of the rest of them. She often had a cigarette dangling from her lips as she played. I loved to see her inhale with her hands away from her face, then exhale through her nose.
I paid her and asked, “When can we do another interview. Soon, I hope?”
“I’ll be very busy until graduation, then I’ll be at my Grandma’s house over the summer. Give me a call around Halloween.”
“That’s eight months!”
“Sorry, but life gets in the way sometimes.”
I had no idea, but she gave birth four months later. I called in September and arranged another interview for the start of October.
–
The day before Cassie’s next interview, I discovered her mother was cheating on me. Correction, cheating on me and her husband. I had some things I wanted to do that day instead of meeting Felicia for a fling, so I had made an excuse that I had to be at a meeting in another state. When I woke in the morning, I saw a beat-up white car pull into her driveway. A short and chubby blonde guy climbed out, and she KISSED HIM! I realized he might be a relative greeting her, then learned better when she STUCK HER HAND IN HIS POCKET and he SQUEEZED HER BREAST before they walked inside.
I went down to the basement and opened a bottle of wine. When I finished crying and drinking, I made a call. “Ray? Hey, buddy, it’s me. I’m really sorry to tell you this…”
–
When Cassie arrived the next afternoon, I saw her makeup was smeared and she was crying. “My Mom and Dad are getting divorced! Can you give me a hug? Just hold me, please?”
“Sure, come here.” I held my arms out and hugged her. We sat on the sofa and cuddled for a while. I forced myself to keep my hands away from her bottom and her chest. It was very difficult, but I looked away most of the time as she smoked.
“Dad’s still working on the oil rig, so I can’t live with him. Mom is moving two states away! I’ll miss all my friends and have to get a new job. This is going to suck!”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” I gently patted her back.
She asked, “You like me, and you think I’m beautiful, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you have a house and pay lots of people for interviews. You must have lots of money or a good job?”
“More money than I need. Much more. Why?”
“I know you want to kiss me and make love to me. Would you marry me? I’ll break up with my boyfriend. Please?”
I was terribly torn. There had never been anyone I wanted half as much. Nobody else had ever set off my arousal to such a degree. We got along well too, and usually had a good time just talking. I’d only done about a third of my thesis but wanted to finish it. If I were involved with her, a lot of what I had done would go out the window. She was legally and socially an adult, but I felt it would be wrong of me to marry a lady ten years younger. None of that was the biggest factor in my decision.
It was selfish and quite wrong of me, but I was worried that if I married her and made love to her, she might get pregnant and QUIT SMOKING! I didn’t think I could SURVIVE that!
I asked, “Why don’t you marry your boyfriend?”
“I’m 19 but he’s only 18. He said he might marry me when he’s 21 but I can’t wait. Mom moves next month!”
“I … Cassie … Nothing would make me happier, but I can’t. I’m so sorry, Cassie.”
She bawled loudly as she jumped up and ran out and I started to cry too. I didn’t know she had a daughter at the time, but that wouldn’t have mattered to me. I like kids. Now that I know, I forgive her for not telling me. I forgive her for everything.
–
I had several sad months, but life continued. I started interviewing men who liked to watch women smoke. Over the next three years, I gathered most of the information I needed, but felt I was missing one final piece to my thesis puzzle.
Cassie.
I searched the internet but couldn’t find anything about her. After several frustrating hours, I did a search for her mother. On my first attempt, I found her new address and phone number. When I called, she told me that Cassie had moved back and was living with her old boyfriend. They were engaged and had an apartment only ten miles from me.
I said I needed to ask Cassie a few more questions to finish my research, and she gave me her new phone number. I wrote it down and read it back to be sure I had it right. I entered it in my phone as a new contact and held the paper in my hand, staring at it a very long time. I desperately wanted to call but didn’t know what to say.
Finally, I dialed. “Hello, Cassie? I hope you don’t mind but I got your new number from your mom.”
“What do you want, Mr. Townsend?” She sounded wary and a little angry.
“I wanted to apologize again and find out how you’re doing.”
“Tim and I are getting married in three weeks.”
I said the opposite of what I felt. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Would you be willing to do another interview?”
“I asked you to marry me, and you turned me down! Do you understand how MUCH that HURT? I was sick of your interviews three years ago, and …”
I interrupted, “Two hundred for half an hour?”
“Um … uh … I guess. But no creepy stuff! Ask me questions, but no staring at me like a hungry lion.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
–
Cassie wore jeans and a black blouse. I was pleased to see she was a fully mature and sexy woman, with an even more shapely body than before. I wasn’t happy to see a black eye mostly concealed by makeup, or the upset look on her face. I felt queasy and depressed when I saw an engagement ring on her finger.
“Cassie, I’m so sorry about the past. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but …”
“But you did. Let’s get to the questions.”
“Sure. Please have a seat. Once I adjust the cameras, I’ll turn away from you.”
“Okay.”
She held an unlit cigarette in her hand and waited for me to get everything ready. I lived up to my word and sat with my back to her as I asked, “You said you were 13 when you started smoking?”
“Yes.”
“How long did it take before you liked it?”
“I liked it right away, maybe on the third puff. I only coughed a couple times.”
“What made you start?”
She tapped the long ash off her cig and said, “I guess the appeal of it. I wanted to look grown up, and know what smoking felt like.”
“Did you like the smell at first?”
“I did, I really did. It smelled like home.”
“Did you grow up around a lot of smokers?”
“My Mom, my Dad, my Grandma, my aunts and uncles, all their friends. Everybody I knew smoked.”
“When you started, did you inhale right away?”
She smiled and said, “Yes, a lot. I love to smoke.”
“Can you smoke where you work?”
“We have smoke breaks, yes.”
I asked, “What do you do?”
“I’m a waitress.”
“Do you like your job?”
“I love it, most of the time. Most people are nice and give tips. One old guy always leaves me a fifty with his phone number written on it. I never call, but he still leaves me fifty a couple times a week.” I could hear a smile in her voice.
I was tempted to offer her money for what I really wanted but behaved myself. I asked, “Can you smoke indoors at work?”
“Not at this place, we go outside.”
“Do a lot of people there smoke?”
“Yes, almost everybody.”
“Any problems with your job?”
“There was a sleazy guy once. He was bald with a scraggly beard. He pinched my butt when I walked past him. He did it again later, and the manager kicked him out.”
I thought if I wasn’t careful, I might end up like that ‘sleazy guy’.
“How much do you smoke?”
“When I work, around 15 cigarettes a day. More on my days off, maybe a pack or 25.”
“Would it surprise you to know a lot of men like watching women smoke?”
“Well DUH! Why are you paying me again?”
I laughed. “Touché! My research is actually about smoking fetishes, when people enjoy watching others smoke so much it becomes a problem.”
“Turn around. You can watch me smoke. Just get it through your head that I’m never going to do more than talk to you. Maybe I’ll be a friend again if you try hard. I’m not going to kiss you or sleep with you, or anything like that.”
“I know. I’m glad you’ll still talk to me.”
“Good. And no flirting with me or saying I’m pretty. When you did that and then hurt me … that was terrible!”
“I’m sorry, so very sorry!”
“Good. Get your sorry butt over here and shut up while I smoke.”
I sat across from her and stared. She did a lot of French inhales and double-pumps, which she knew I liked. On her third cigarette, she blew dozens and dozens of smoke rings.
As she was about to leave I handed her four hundred instead of the two we agreed on before. “Thank you, Cassie. I really appreciate it.”
She only took half of it, saying, “We have a deal, and stick to it. That way we know what to expect.”
“Right. Thanks. When can you come over again?”
“I’ll be busy until after our wedding on the 5th, then I’ll need to ask my husband.” She put the money in her purse.
I said, “I noticed your eye. If somebody is hurting you, that’s not love. You …”
She cut me off. “Do you love me enough to marry me next month?”
“I … I …” I desperately wanted to say ‘yes’ but couldn’t.
“Then shut up.” She walked out.
The next morning I had a message from Cassie. “I’m sorry, Craig, but Tim doesn’t want me to see you or talk to you. I’m marrying him, but you’re just a friend, not really even that. Please don’t call. Bye.”
I was sad but continued my work. A new class of girls had moved to town for college and needed to be interviewed. Many of them were cute or flirty while they smoked, but none could compare to Cassie.
–
Three years later, I got a call from her one night. “Craig, I hope you can help us. We need a place to stay for a little while, and maybe some money. Can we come talk to you?”
“Sure …”
“Good. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” She hung up before I could say I was busy at the moment. I told the girl I was interviewing I had an emergency and she needed to leave.
I was surprised when a cab dropped off three people. Cassie had meant ‘we’ as in her and her four and six-year-old daughters, not Cassie and her husband. I didn’t even know she had any kids. I met them in the driveway and carried her suitcase inside. I saw she had a large bruise on her left forearm, a smaller one on her left cheek, and a brace on her right wrist. “What happened, Cassie? I was worried.”
“Let’s get Carrie and Sherry something to eat and put them to bed. Then we can talk.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Girls, this is Craig. He’s my friend and we’re going to stay with him a little while, okay?” They nodded.
I made a pizza and the little girls happily devoured two pieces each. I led them down the hall. “The kids can stay in the guest room over here.”
She got the girls into their pajamas, and I lifted them into bed. She told them, “We’re going downstairs to talk. You go to sleep, and I’ll check on you in a little while.”
“Good night.” “Nite nite, Mom.”
“Goodnight.” She leaned down and kissed their foreheads.
I followed her downstairs, then sat on the basement sofa with her as she lit a cigarette. I asked, “So what happened? Are you okay?”
She was teary-eyed as she began her story. “Tim and I were having money trouble a long time. Our car got repossessed yesterday and we had a big argument about it. I thought he sent in the payments! This morning a deputy came to evict us from our house! I had no idea what was going on! I asked Tim and he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.
I got upset and called him a few things, then he grabbed my arm and slapped me. I decided I had enough and hit him back. I punched him right in the nose, so hard I sprained my wrist. He ran, screaming and trailing blood, like a little girl surprised by her first period. I’m done with that BITCH of a BOY!” Her face showed an angry smile. I didn’t know an angry smile was even possible.
“The deputy saw the whole thing and grabbed him. He’s in jail until at least court on Monday but we don’t have a place to live now. They changed the locks and they’re going to throw all our things away tomorrow! What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to rent a moving van and bring your stuff here tomorrow. Next, we get you a good divorce lawyer.”
“Thank you!” She gave me a smokey kiss, inspiring my heart to melt and my groin to swell. “I appreciate it a lot. Really, thank you so much.” I didn’t like the smell or taste of cigarette smoke, but her kiss fulfilled the dream I’d had for half a decade.
She kissed me again and enticingly said, “I don’t really want sex tonight, but I guess I could smoke your sausage.” She licked her lips and rested a hand on my upper thigh. She looked into my eyes as she smiled seductively.
The scientist in me stupidly took charge as I made an important discovery. I committed a terrible error by admitting, “Cassie, I just noticed something. The whole time we were down here, I didn’t stare at your mouth or follow your cigarette with my eyes. Tonight, your safety and happiness are more important to me than the smoking. I really care about you now.”
“WHAT?”
“Until tonight, I was so obsessed with you smoking that I didn’t really think about your feelings much. Before, I was desperate to see you smoke again, or to record it so I could watch you smoking later. I think I love you now!”
She paused a moment with a shocked look on her face. “I’ve known you TEN YEARS, and you started caring about me RIGHT NOW?”
“Uh …”
She got up and crisply said, “I’m going to bed! With my kids!”
“Um … goodnight?”
–
After I picked up their belongings the next afternoon, I drove Cassie and her girls across nearly two whole states on the way to her mother’s house. We listened to the radio and barely talked the whole 300 mile trip.
On the way back I realized I was making major progress. I finally cared about her more than I cared about the smoking. But what was I supposed to do next?
–