My name is Amy Wilkins. I am twenty-four years old, and I work as an
entertainment reporter for a large newspaper here in southern Florida.
My mother is from Puerto Rico, and my father is a Florida native. They
produced only one child, a beautiful, multi-racial young woman, who resembles
a younger version of Daisy Fuentes. (Ahem, that’s me!)
Two years ago, right out of college, I was at the right place at the right
time, and I landed the gig as an entertainment reporter. It’s one of the
easiest jobs in the world. I travel around southern Florida, and sometimes
more distant lands, and interview people in the entertainment world.
I started smoking in college, which was as big a shock to me as it was my
family. I’d never had any interest in smoking, and in fact, I’d never
smoked a cigarette a day in my life. I was always the athletic type.
Volleyball, cheering, tennis-smoking was always something that I frowned
upon. It drove my mother and me nuts when my father would go into the family
room and light one of his infamous after dinner cigars.
Towards the end of my first semester at college, midterms grew closer and
closer, and I was feeling more stress than I’d ever felt.
My best friend Danielle was known for being a little wild. We both knew that
we had to study our asses off in order to pass our final in Art History.
(Growing up in a very culturally diverse household, I was eager to take the
class as an elective, not realizing how challenging it would be.)
We decided to go to her dorm to study, which wasn’t something that I was
overly eager to do, because I knew that her room would smell of thick, stale
cigarette smoke, but I wanted someone to study with, so I figured that it
couldn’t be that bad, and with any luck, her roommate Marybeth wouldn’t be
there, which would mean only one person was smoking in the room.
As soon as we walked in the room, the smell hit my nose. It was awful.
Words can’t describe how smoky the room was. Apparently, I was out of luck,
as Marybeth was there, enjoying the day as she always did.
“Hey,” she said, taking her mouth from her small metal bowl. Are you guys
here to burn?”
I had to laugh. As if I was there to get high with her.
“We’ve got to study,” Danielle replied. “But I’ll take a few hits to
relax.”
I knew that Danielle would occasionally smoke weed at parties, but I’d never
actually seen her do it. I’d never seen anyone smoke marijuana, or take any
other drug for that matter.
She walked over to Marybeth and took the bowl from her. Raising it to her
lips, Danielle sucked the smoke deep into her lungs, then signaled for
Marybeth to hand her a lighter.
Taking the lighter in her hand, Danielle flicked the lighter and moved the
flame over the top of the bowl. I could see the marijuana glow brightly as
Danielle pulled the smoke inside her lungs.
Taking the bowl from her lips, she handed the bowl my direction. I was
petrified. I’d never been offered drugs before, and wasn’t sure if I’d
have the courage to say no.
“I’m all set,” I said, relieved that I’d avoided the pressure of trying
pot.
“Your loss,” Danielle said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the center of
the room.
I wondered what she meant, although I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to
try.
Relieved that I’d dodged the proverbial bullet, I headed to Danielle’s half
of the room, hoping to avoid that situation any more.
I was surprised at Danielle for getting high right before we were supposed to
study, but I wasn’t sure if I should say anything.
My curiosity overwhelmed me.
“How can you study when you’re stoned?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” Danielle laughed, lighting a Marlboro Light 100.
“It’s so much easier to study when you’re smoking!”
She inhaled a large amount of smoke into her lungs, and exhaled it towards
the ceiling.
“Really?” I asked.
“Amy, you have no idea,” she said.
I wasn’t sure what Danielle meant, but I knew that I didn’t want to know.
After two hours of some of the most intense studying in collegiate history,
my brain began to feel the effects of what I’d put it through. I felt like
I couldn’t possibly absorb any more information.
Apparently, Danielle felt the same way. As I began to suggest a break, I
heard the flick of a lighter, and I noticed she was lighting a new Marlboro
Light 100 for herself.
“Can I have one of those?” I nervously asked.
Danielle knew that I didn’t smoke, and she took every opportunity to tease
me about it.
“Yeah, sure,” she laughed. “Whatever.”
She exhaled the smoke directly at me. I made a conscious effort to not
flinch.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I still said nothing as I stared directly into her eyes.
“Okay,” she said, sliding a cigarette out of the pack. “I’ll teach you
to smoke.”
With that, she put the filter of the cigarette between her lips, and used her
lit cigarette to light the tip of what would soon be mine.
She inhaled the smoke and passed the cigarette my direction. My heart seemed
to be beating out of my chest as I reached out and for the first time in my
life, touched a cigarette.
I held it awkwardly in a pose similar to that of Danielle.
“Don’t be so afraid of it,” Danielle coached. “It’s just a cigarette.”
I tried my best to not look as uncomfortable as I was feeling.
“Let’s get your first puff over with,” she continued. “Just put it in
your mouth, and suck a little bit of smoke in. Then blow it out. Like
this.”
Danielle showed me how to take the smallest of puffs and then, without
inhaling, exhale the small cloud I’d breathed in.
Still nervous, I brought the filter to my lips. I couldn’t believe it, but
I was about to smoke a cigarette.
I wrapped my lips around the filter and began to suck just a tiny amount of
smoke into my mouth. I saw the tip glow as I smoked the cigarette, which, in
an odd sort of way, made me want to smoke it more and more.
“Good job,” Danielle said as I exhaled a tiny cloud of smoke.
“Thanks,” I said, sort of glad that I’d tried smoking.
“Try it that way a few more times, then we’ll move on to the good stuff,”
Danielle said, taking a huge triple puff, then opening her mouth and
performing an exceptional snap inhale.
It was apparent that I was going to learn how to smoke that day.
I did as instructed, and smoked half the cigarette without inhaling a single
puff.
“Now,” Danielle said. “It gets interesting.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tapping off the ash as Danielle had shown me
minutes earlier.
“You’re going to learn how to inhale,” Danielle said with a wicked smile.
“I don’t know if I want to,” I replied. “What if I get hooked?”
Danielle shrugged off my concern.
“It’s up to you,” she said. “You’re not going to get hooked from one
cigarette, first of all. And second, if you’re going to smoke, you might as
well do it the right way.”
I stared at my cigarette while I considered my options. The taste wasn’t as
bad as I had been expecting, and I thought that if I wanted to, it was
something that I probably could get used to.
“Okay,” I concluded aloud.
“There are lots of ways I could teach you to do this,” Danielle said.
“But I’ll show you the way I learned.”
“Alright,” I laughed, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
“This time, put the cigarette in your lips, like you have been doing,”
Danielle continued to teach. “Only instead of sucking the smoke in with
your cheeks, you like, suck it in directly with your chest.”
Danielle could tell by my expression that I was confused, so she
demonstrated.
She brought the cigarette close to her lips, but didn’t quite put it in
them, and parted her lips ever so slightly.
I could hear the wind rushing into her lungs and I saw her shoulders rise
slightly as she pulled the smoke in. The tip of her cigarette grew brightly
as she did so.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admitted.
“You may want to cough,” Danielle said as she exhaled the smoke she had
just inhaled. “But it’s important that you don’t. It will ruin the whole
experience.”
I cautiously brought the burning cigarette to my lips, being careful to not
put the filter in my mouth. I parted my lips just slightly, and began to
breathe in as deep and as hard as I could.
I was glad Danielle had prepared me for the feeling of wanting to cough,
because I felt the burning tension in my chest immediately. I tried my best
to not cough.
“Hold your breath,” Danielle said, and I did.
Within seconds, I felt my head, and the room, begin to spin. It was like
I’d drank a six pack of beer, only better.
“Now blow it out,” Danielle instructed.
I blew a small, tight stream of smoke out towards my friend, who was looking
on with approving eyes.
“You’re a natural,” she said, smiling.
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
“Now try it this way,” Danielle said, taking a more traditional style drag.
She opened her mouth and inhaled the smoke into her lungs.
I raised the cigarette once again, and took a slightly larger puff. I
removed the cigarette and inhaled the smoke as best I could.
Again, the tightness began to creep into my chest, and my head-spinning
increased.
I held the smoke in as long as I could before exhaling another slightly
larger stream of smoke.
“What do you think?” Danielle asked as she stubbed out her cigarette.
“It’s alright,” I answered, stubbing mine out as well.
“Now we’ll be able to study much easier,” Danielle said, picking up her
text book and continuing where we had left off.
To be honest, it made it so much easier to study. In fact, had it not been
for my brain constantly reminding me what I had just done, my mind would have
been completely free of all distractions. It was as if someone had come
along and magically added more room to my brain.
As much as I hated to admit it, I liked the way smoking that one cigarette
had made me feel.
That’s more or less the way I started smoking. I had never intended on
becoming a full time smoker. That part of it sort of just happened, as they
say.
I’d smoke with Danielle once in a while, and then I would smoke with
Danielle every day, and before I knew what hit me, I was addicted to
nicotine, and I was smoking half a pack of Marlboro Lights 100s every day.
Shortly after my first cigarette, however, things got interesting in my life.
I had not yet become completely addicted to nicotine when midterms were over.
Granted, I was smoking just about 3 cigarettes a day, but they were all
“borrowed”, and if I couldn’t smoke for one day, that didn’t phase me in
the least.
Midterms behind me, I returned home to our home in southern Florida to spend
Christmas with my parents. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to smoke there,
which was fine with me. At least, I thought it would be fine.
I arrived home to find the same routine in place as when I left. Mom and dad
would go to work, returning well after six o’clock. They’d eat dinner, and
my father would retire to the family room for “dessert” as he called it.
He loved his cigars.
The family room was always the place we would all go to watch television. My
parents saved the living room for more formal gatherings.
As we sat there, watching television together, I heard the now familiar flick
of a lighter. Glancing towards my father, I watched as he began to pull
smoke into his mouth repeatedly, until the fat round end of his cigar was
properly lit.
A sense of jealousy began to stir inside me. I wanted to smoke, and I
didn’t know why. I’d seen my father smoke a cigar hundreds, if not
thousands, of times. Why was this time any different, and how could I fix
it? I didn’t want to buy a pack of cigarettes, but I wanted to smoke
one-badly.
I decided that it the best thing I could probably do was go to sleep. I
politely explained to my parents that I was tired, and that I really needed
to sleep. They believed me, despite the fact that I was blatantly lying.
Confident that my lie had been believed, I went to my room, and fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning, and couldn’t believe how many times I’d dreamt
about smoking the night before. It seemed that every dream I had was somehow
related to smoking. They were so frequent and so realistic, that I could
almost taste the burnt tobacco on my tongue.
That’s when it hit me. My parents were gone. I could go buy a pack of
cigarettes and they’d never know. But today was Friday, and if I smoked one
now, I’d smoke two, then three-and tomorrow I would have had to face the
same ugly truth once again.
I couldn’t convince myself that the risk was worth taking. Television
seemed a much safer alternative, as much as it killed me.
I sat down in my favorite chair. I used to love sitting in that chair when I
was a kid, because it was also my father’s favorite chair, and he sat in it
while smoking his cigars. As much as the smell of the cigars bothered me, it
was a smell that reminded me of him. Just the smell of the smoke on the
chair made me smile.
It was while taking a deep breath in, savoring the smell of my father’s
cigar that I had an idea. He always kept cigars in the humidor on the table
next to the chair.
As if being driven by some inner force, I leaned over and opened the humidor,
revealing a full supply of cigars inside.
I had never smoked a cigar before, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I
really wanted to do. I decided that I should wait a little while, and
thoroughly weigh my options.
I pressed the power button on the remote, and the television turned on. As
luck would have it, the movie that appeared was featuring a scene where the
lead actress was smoking, and obviously loving every minute of it.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened the humidor once more, and took out
one of my dad’s cigars, and his cigar trimmer.
Before I knew what had happened, the cigar was in my mouth, and the lighter
was lit. I’d seen my father smoke enough to know that I needed to bring the
flame to the tip of the cigar, and puff on the tip.
My hands were shaking almost out of control as I brought the flame to the
tip. The thick paper wrapping the cigar began to crackle under the heat, and
I pulled the first mouthful of my first cigar into my mouth. The smoke was
much thicker than that of the cigarettes I’d smoked.
In an instant, the cigar was lit. I blew out a small stream of smoke towards
the television. Looking down at my fingers, I saw the cigar burning away
between them. I couldn’t believe that I was smoking a cigar.
After a few tentative puffs, I realized that the cigar wasn’t really
satisfying my cravings as well as I’d hoped. I immediately figured out that
it was because I wasn’t inhaling.
I apprehensively raised the tip of the cigar to my mouth, and set it between
my lips. I took a large puff, and opened my mouth, inhaling every last
particle of smoke.
It was the most intense feeling I’d ever felt I my life. I held my breath
and exhaled two fine streams from my nose.
Instantly, the head rush hit me like a train.
“Wow,” I said aloud, raising the cigar to my lips for another long drag. I
knew that you weren’t supposed to inhale the smoke from a cigar, now that I
had felt the effects that inhaling was creating within me, I wasn’t about to
stop.
This time, I took an even longer puff, pulling the thick smoke even deeper
into my lungs. Again, the dizziness returned, an obvious result of increased
nicotine in my bloodstream.
I exhaled this hit as a tight stream through pursed lips, equally as slowly
as the nose exhale I had tried earlier.
After just four puffs on the cigar, I felt satisfied that I had smoked
enough.
I carefully stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray next to the humidor, and sat
back in the chair, looking at the burnt cigar which I’d just smoked.
I couldn’t describe how I was feeling at that moment. What I didn’t
realize, was that those four drags from the cigar had pushed me over the
edge. I was now unknowingly addicted to nicotine.
Later in the afternoon, I experienced my first nicotine craving. At first, I
wasn’t sure what it was that I was feeling. I felt like I wanted to smoke,
but I didn’t realize that it was more than that-I needed to smoke.
Retrieving the partially smoked cigar from my bedroom, I returned to the
family room, sat in my father’s chair, and put the cigar between my lips.
I lit the tip of it as I had before, and pulled the thick smoke into my
lungs. After one large puff, and one even larger double pump, I had
satisfied the cravings I’d been having.
I again extinguished the cigar and hid it in my room.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was nearly four o’clock. The time was
perfect, as my parents wouldn’t return home for another two hours. I hoped
that the smell which lingered in the air of the family room would dissipate
before their prompt return.
I was relieved when my parents came home sharply at six o’clock, and didn’t
mention a word about any smell of smoke.
My mother announced that she was going to go out for a few drinks with some
of her friends, which meant that my father and I would be home alone for most
of the night.
We ate dinner together, and then my mom left for the evening. As expected,
my father retired to the family room for his cigar. I wanted so badly to
join him, but I knew that my parents would never allow me to smoke, so I
settled for sitting in the room with him, hoping to breathe in at least a
little of the smoke created as he puffed away on his cigar.
I tried my best to not get caught watching him light the cigar, but he must
have noticed.
“Amy,” he began as he lit the tip.
“Yeah dad?” I asked.
“Would you like to have a cigar with me?” he asked, setting his lighter on
the table.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
“Well,” he continued. “When I was eighteen years old, my father sat me
down and showed me how to enjoy a cigar with him, and that’s something that
I’d like to do with you, if you would like to.”
I didn’t know what to say. My father was offering me a cigar. He was going
to let me smoke.
Before I could answer, I looked at him and saw his hand, stretched out across
the room, holding a cigar for me.
“It’s up to you,” he said before taking another puff.
“Mom would kill me,” I said, unsure what else to say.
“She’s not here, and I’m not stupid enough to tell her,” he laughed.
“And we’re paying all this money for college, so I know that you’re not
either.”
Nervous, I reached across the room and took the cigar. He handed me his
clipper, and instructed me how to clip just the very tip off the bottom of
the brown cylinder.
“Now put it in your mouth,” my father coached.
I did as instructed.
He lit his lighter, and told me to how to puff in order to get the cigar lit.
In only seconds, I had taken a few small puffs, and it was lit. Smoke
escaped my mouth for what my father thought was the first time. I didn’t
have the heart to tell him that I smoked.
We sat in silence that was only broken by the occasional tip my father would
give me. I had to admit that it was more than nice, sitting there with him,
smoking.
Not inhaling though, made me crave nicotine even more.
“Can you inhale these?” I asked, hoping to not reveal my habit.
“You can, but it’s not a great idea,” my dad replied. “Do you want me to
show you how?”
“Sure,” I answered, though I knew that I didn’t need a lesson in this.
My father took a small drag on his cigar and inhaled the smoke. He exhaled a
small stream as he instructed me that it’s not something that should be done
all the time.
I tried my best to look like I didn’t know what I was doing, and it
apparently worked, yet my skill impressed my father tremendously.
With our cigars half smoked, my father confided in me.
“I know that your mother would kill me for this,” he started. “So this
has to stay between us, okay?”
I agreed.
“I wasn’t sure if you would want to smoke with me or not, but now that you
have, it’s important that you have good cigars, in case you ever feel like
having one.”
With that, he presented a box of cigars to me. I couldn’t believe it. I
missed my cigarettes more than anything, but at the same time, I knew that I
would only be able to smoke cigars while I was home. The gesture was very
sweet.
“Thanks, daddy,” I said with a smile.
As soon as I set them on the floor beside my chair, we both got the surprise
of our lives. Time had apparently passed a lot faster than either of us had
noticed, because my mother returned, obviously intoxicated. She was
accompanied by one of her closest friends, Holly.
“What in the hell are you doing, young lady?” she angrily asked.
I was petrified. It was obvious that I was smoking a cigar, but I couldn’t
very well just say that.
“Relax, Ana,” my father said. “The girl is eighteen years old. She’s
old enough to smoke a cigar once in a while if she wants to. This was my
idea, anyway. I asked her if she wanted to smoke one with me, and she very
politely accepted the offer.”
“But ladies don’t smoke cigars,” my mother snapped.
“Actually,” Holly interrupted. “I’ve been known to enjoy a good cigar
once in a while, Ana. They’re really nice.”
“You don’t smoke,” my mother replied, surprised.
“I used to smoke a lot,” Holly said. “But I quit smoking when I got
married. Now I have a cigar once in a while. It’s really no big deal.”
“I can’t believe you never told me you smoked,” my mother said sadly.
“It never came up,” Holly replied. “Then after I’d known you a while, I
was a little nervous to bring it up, because I knew you were very
anti-smoking.”
“Would you like a cigar with us, Holly?” my father invited.
“I’d love one,” Holly said graciously.
She took the cigar from my father’s hand, and clipped the end of expertly.
Placing it in her mouth, Holly leaned into the flame of my father’s lighter,
and puffed until satisfied that the cigar was lit.
“I can’t believe you guys are all smoking,” my mother said instinctively.
“Haven’t you ever been curious to try it?” Holly asked.
“No!” said my mother immediately.
“Come here,” said Holly. “Sit next to me for a second.”
My mother moved over to the sofa on which Holly sat. I don’t think anyone
but Holly was sure what she had planned.
“Open your mouth and closed your eyes,” Holly said.
“Don’t you dare put that nasty thing in my mouth,” my mom replied.
“I’m not going to put it in your mouth,” Holly laughed. “Just do it.”
My mother closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
Holly took a huge puff on the cigar and inhaled the smoke.
“You look nervous,” she said, smoke still inside her. “Take a deep breath
to relax.”
With her mouth still open, my mother took a big breath of air. As soon as
she did, Holly leaned forward so their mouths were almost touching and blew a
small stream of smoke directly into my mother’s mouth, down her throat, and
into her lungs.
“There,” Holly said. “Open your eyes and blow out.”
My mother opened her eyes and blew out the faintest stream of smoke. The
look on her face perfectly showed how she felt about the experience.
“What the hell did you do that for?” my mom asked. “I don’t want to
smoke.”
“Ana, stop,” my father said. “She’s just trying to show you something.”
As much as I didn’t want to think about it, I’m sure that my father was
enjoying the sight.
“Do you want to hold it?” Holly asked my mother.
“No,” my mom replied.
“Please?” Holly pleaded.
“Why?” asked my mom.
“I just want to see you hold it, that’s all,” Holly stated.
“Fine, give it to me,” said my mother. It was obvious that she was still a
little buzzed.
She took the cigar from Holly’s fingers and held it as if she was the one
smoking it. Without saying a word, my mother brought the cigar to her lips
and took a large puff, immediately letting the smoke escape her mouth.
I couldn’t believe what I was watching. My mother was smoking a cigar now.
It was all too much to handle.
Taking one last puff on my own cigar, I inhaled the smoke and excused myself
to go to bed.
Once in my room, I heard my parents talking about the proper way to smoke a
cigar, so it was apparent to me that my mother was taking a few more drags.
I laughed aloud.
My laugh was silenced by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Holly opened the door and entered my room, closing it behind her.
“Hey,” I said, unsure why she was in my room.
“I’ve got a huge favor to ask you,” she said.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I didn’t tell your mom this, because I know she’d freak out, but I’m
dying for a cigarette. Do you think I could hide in here and sneak one?”
Holly asked.
“You smoke?” I replied.
“Only when I’m drinking, really,” Holly admitted. “I used to smoke a
lot, but then I quit when I met my husband. Sometimes, though, when I drink,
I smoke a cigarette or two.”
“You can smoke in here on one condition,” I said slyly.
“I know, I’ll open the window,” Holly assumed, moving towards my window.
“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” I said. “I was going to ask if
I could have one, too.”
“What?” Holly asked. “You don’t smoke Amy.”
“Actually,” I admitted shyly. “I have started smoking, but like you, I
can’t tell my parents.”
Holly laughed at the irony.
“Of course you can have one,” she said. “Are reds okay?”
She produced a red and white pack of Marlboros. I’d never smoked anything
but Marlboro Lights before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.
“They’re fine,” I said, taking a cork-filtered cigarette from my mother’s
friend and putting it between my lips.
Holly lit her cigarette and held the lighter to me. The smoke was stronger
than that of my lights, but not as strong as the cigar. It felt and tasted
wonderful to be smoking a cigarette again.
“I can’t believe I’m smoking with you,” Holly said, exhaling a cloud out
the cracked window.
“I know, it’s kinda weird,” I admitted. I had known Holly most of my
life.
“So what else have you learned to do in this college of yours?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked naively.
“Oh come on, Amy,” Holly said to me sarcastically. “When I went to
school, I got the best education of my life, and these were only the
beginning.”
She held up the cigarette as she spoke.
“They’re wonderful, aren’t they?” she added.
“Yeah, they really are,” I admitted. “I think I’m hooked.”
Holly laughed. “It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking another puff.
“I’m going to finish my cigarette, and kind of hint that I’m a bit too
tired to drive all the way home,” Holly said. “Would you mind if I came in
and visited you?”
“Bring your cigarettes and you can do whatever you want,” I joked.
“Deal,” agreed my new friend.
She extinguished her cigarette in a cup of water she’d brought from the
bathroom and went downstairs to talk to my parents. They must have invited
her to stay the night, because she was back up relatively quickly, telling me
that my parents had agreed. Holly said that once they went to sleep, she’d
slip into my room and we could smoke a few more. Being bad was beginning to
feel so good!
An hour or so later, Holly cracked my door and snuck into my room. She had
her purse with her this time. I figured it was to conceal her cigarettes.
“Do I need to ask?” she laughed, handing the pack my way, with a cigarette
of her own dangling from her lips.
“Are you going to be okay smoking so much?” I asked, not wanting her
addiction to take hold of her again.
“Probably not,” she laughed, pulling the smoke into her lungs. “This is
the most I’ve ever smoked in a night since I quit. But I’ve got a feeling
the night is going to get more interesting.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Holly sighed as if she didn’t know what to say. Silently, she reached into
her purse, and pulled out a small metal pipe. It resembled the one that
Danielle had smoked in her room, only Holly’s was green.
“Do you?” Holly asked as she unscrewed the metal cap to the shiny bowl.
“No, never,” I said. “I can’t believe you do!”
“Well, it’s a recently re-discovered pleasure,” Holly said, packing
marijuana tightly into the pipe.
“Oh?” I asked.
“I smoked a lot in college, but then, like everything else, I gave it up
when I got married,” Holly explained. “I was at a club a few weeks ago,
and I ran into an old friend of mine, and I’d had a few too many, and she
was able to convince me to take a few hits. Before I knew what happened, I
was buying a bowl from her and a small bag.”
She passed me her cigarette as she raised the bowl to her lips, flicked her
lighter, and pulled the smoke into her lungs. Holding her breath, she took
the cigarette back.
“What’s it like?” I asked.
Still holding the smoke in her lungs, Holly silently passed the bowl my
direction.
I wondered if I should smoke it.
“Go ahead,” Holly said, continuing to hold the smoke in.
I nervously reached out and took the bowl from her. My hands were trembling
as I brought the tip of the bowl to my mouth, wrapped my lips around the
opening, and pulled the smoke into my lungs.
I passed the bowl back to Holly, who took another hit, and then took a double
drag from my Marlboro.
The combination of THC and nicotine in my system made me feel incredibly
good.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Holly said, passing the bowl back my way.
“It’s okay,” I said, taking another hit.
“You’ll see,” Holly said, taking the bowl back.
We smoked two bowls that night, the second of which made me incredibly
stoned. Holly taught me the importance of smoking a cigarette afterwards,
which increased my high even more. It was the most amazing feeling I’d ever
felt.
As Holly gathered her belongings, she stopped to say, “I’m going to give
you my cell phone number. Any time you’d like to hang out, let me know,
okay?”
I wrote down the number, and gave her my cell phone number as well. She
rolled a small joint and left it with me to enjoy whenever I wanted to, and
she also left me with about 8 cigarettes for me to smoke until I was able to
get some myself.
Although I was tempted to smoke the joint that Holly had left with me, but I
put it off as long as I possibly could. A few days before I was supposed to
return to school, my father announced that this would be his night to go out
with some friends, and the house would have to be a “ladies only” evening.
The idea sounded wonderful to me. It sounded even better as the wicked ideas
entered my head.
“Mom,” I began. “Why don’t you call Holly and see if she wants to come
over? That might be fun.”
I hoped my mother would take the bait.
“That’s a good idea,” she agreed.
She picked up the telephone and dialed Holly’s number. I concealed my
interest in the conversation as best I could. When my mom got off the phone,
she smiled and said that Holly would come over around six o’clock. This was
perfect. It was just in time for me to have a cigar with her. The timing
couldn’t have been more perfect, as I’d smoked my last cigarette at about
three o’clock that afternoon, and I was more than ready to smoke again.
“Mom,” I nervously started. “Would it be alright if, after dinner, I
smoked another cigar with Holly?”
“Amy,” my mother answered. “You know I don’t approve of you smoking
anything, let alone cigars. But you’re eighteen years old now, and there’s
not much I can say to stop you. If you’re going to smoke one though, I can
limit it to outside of this house. What you do outside is not my concern.
But know that I don’t approve.”
My mother’s mixed signals were somewhat confusing. She didn’t want me to
smoke, but she would let me smoke outside.
“I wish you understood,” I said disappointingly.
“Understood what?” my mother asked. “I understand that smoking is bad for
you. I understand that it makes everything stink, and I understand that
it’s not very attractive. What else is there?”
“But you’re wrong,” I said. “When I smoke a cigar, the smell isn’t that
bad, I don’t inhale the smoke, so it’s not that bad for me, and believe it
or not, it’s very attractive. Not to mention how wonderful it makes me
feel.”
“Ha!” laughed my mother. “You think smoking is attractive? You’ve got
to be kidding me!”
“Well,” I lied. “I haven’t smoked anywhere but here, but I’ve been told
by everyone I know who smokes that when they smoke, guys look at them
differently.”
“Right,” my mom said. “They’re looking at them like they’re idiots for
doing something so bad to themselves.”
“No, Mom,” I objected. “That’s not it.”
Before my mother could object to my statement, the doorbell rang. My mother
opened the door and greeted Holly.
“Hi Amy,” Holly said with a smile.
“Hi,” I said politely, hoping that my knowledge of Holly’s habits wasn’t
visible.
My mother served dinner, which was as delicious as always. Still seated at
the table, Holly spoke up.
“Dessert time?” she asked, implying that we smoke a cigar.
“I’ve asked Amy that if she’s going to smoke a cigar with you, she do it
outside,” my mom said.
“Ana,” Holly objected. “Don’t take this as disrespectful, because I mean
it with all due respect. I understand your concerns, but you let Amy’s
father smoke in the family room, what is the difference if we smoke in
there?”
I’d never thought to use that defense. It was brilliant. There was really
no way my mother could argue.
“Fine,” she said. “I suppose you’ll want me to sit in there with you
then, won’t you?”
“It’s up to you,” Holly said. “I’m sure Amy would like the company, and
I’m sure that I would.”
“Alright,” said my mother.
“We’ll meet you in there,” Holly said deviously.
While my mother cleaned up the dinner dishes, Holly and I entered the family
room. I sat in my favorite chair, and pulled two cigars out of the box my
father had given me.
“Here’s the deal,” Holly said as she took hers and began to light it.
“We’re going to get your mother to smoke.”
She exhaled a small cloud as she handed me the lighter.
“Right,” I said, lighting my own cigar. The smoke tasted wonderful.
“Seriously,” Holly said, taking another puff. “Here’s the plan.”
I listened cynically as Holly explained what she was going to do to my
mother. The idea sounded ludicrous, but part of me was excited at the idea
of doing what Holly had planned. Half-way through our cigars, the plan was
set into action, as my mother entered the smoke-filled family room and sat on
the sofa.
“Ana,” Holly said, setting her cigar in the ashtray and sitting next to my
mother on the sofa. “I’m sorry if I interfered with your parenting skills
earlier. It’s just that, Mike doesn’t let me smoke, and I can’t stand
that sort of oppression. If Amy would like to smoke, you’ve got to know
that you telling her that you don’t approve is absolutely eating her up
inside.”
“Is this true, Amy?” my mom asked, falling into the plan perfectly.
“Yeah,” I said, sounding as sad as I could.
“I’m sorry, Amy,” she replied. “I just don’t want to see anything
happen to you, that’s all.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I ensured.
Holly moved into position swiftly, a move my mother never suspected.
“And now,” Holly said. “You’re going to understand what this is like.”
Before my mother knew what hit her, Holly was on top of my mother, holding
her hands down as firmly as she could.
I knew that it was time.
Terrified at what I was doing, I felt like I was watching a scene in a movie.
I walked across the room, and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of Holly’s
purse.
“I’m not smoking,” she insisted.
“Oh, yes you are,” Holly said sternly. For a brief moment, I thought that
maybe this wasn’t something that I wanted to do, and I knew that it wasn’t
something I should be doing. The excitement outweighed any reservations I
was experiencing.
Realizing that I was about to smoke a cigarette in front of my mom for the
first time, my heart began to pound.
You could see the surprise in her eyes as she realized that I, not Holly, was
the one who was going to light the cigarette, but she said nothing as Holly
continued to hold her down.
I inhaled the smoke as deeply as I could, hoping that my mother would be able
to see how much I was enjoying it.
Leaning as close as I possibly could to my mother, without actually kissing
her, I exhaled a long stream of smoke directly into her mouth.
Don’t get me wrong, my mother is an absolutely beautiful woman, but the last
thing I want to do is to make out with her.
At first, she was reluctant. She began to realize, though, that Holly
wasn’t about to give up.
“Fine, fine,” she objected. “I’ll smoke one cigarette. But please, stop
doing this to me!”
Holly released the grip she had on my mother’s wrists, and sat next to her
on the sofa.
I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it with Holly’s lighter. I
handed it to my mother.
“I can’t believe you guys want me to do this,” she said.
It was obvious that she was nervous.
“You’ll want to, too,” Holly said. “As soon as you see how wonderful it
is.”
“We’ll see,” said my mother, bringing the cigarette to her mouth.
She wrapped her lips around the filter, and began to pull the smoke into her
mouth. In only a second or two, the cigarette was out of her mouth, and she
blew the smoke directly out, into the middle of the room.
“Good job,” Holly encouraged.
With the excitement of what had just happened, I felt like I needed to take a
puff on my own cigarette. I saw my mother watching me as now I wrapped my
own lips around my filter, pulled the largest puff of my life into my mouth,
and inhaled the smoke directly into my lungs.
I held the smoke inside for almost ten seconds before turning my head
slightly sideways and exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“You’ve got to inhale,” Holly said, continuing her role as the teacher.
“Show me again,” my mother surprisingly requested.
Holly took the cigarette from my mother’s nervous fingers and put it in her
own mouth. She took a huge triple drag, and without inhaling, leaned even
closer to my mom’s mouth than I had been.
With their mouths just millimeters apart, my mother opened her lips and
inhaled the smoke that Holly was offering.
What happened next was even more shocking than seeing my mother smoke.
Holly leaned forward even closer, eliminating any distance between her lips
and those of my mother, and began to kiss her.
My mother’s first reaction was to pull away, but Holly met that objection
with an increased forward lean, and my mother soon began to stop rejecting
the advance.
I couldn’t believe what I was watching. My mother was kissing Holly, and
they both seemed to be enjoying it. For some reason, the sight turned me on
incredibly.
“Alright you guys,” I interrupted. “There’s a kid in the room.”
They broke their embrace and looked at me. Feeling awkward, I took another
drag on my cigarette to relieve the tension I was feeling.
“You know,” started my mother. “These really aren’t bad.”
As she completed her sentence, she raised the cigarette to her lips once more
and took a slightly larger puff. She inhaled the smoke as best she could,
and to the astonishment of both Holly and I, she didn’t cough once.
She turned her head to the side and exhaled a perfect stream of smoke into
the air.
“Does this mean you’re going to start smoking?” Holly asked, lighting a
Marlboro for herself.
“I don’t know, Holly,” she began. “I don’t want to smoke, but it really
isn’t bad. Can I have some time to figure it out?”
“You can take all the time you’d like,” Holly said with a knowing smile.
“But in order for you to do that, I’m going to have to keep you supplied
with cigarettes, at least for tonight.”
“You can stay as long as you’d like,” my mother invited.
Holly agreed to spend one more night at our house. She promised to not
mention anything to my father about my mom’s smoking, or the kiss they
shared. My mother said that although it did feel nice, it sort of creeped
her out, and it wasn’t something she wanted to do again.
After my parents had gone to sleep, there was another knock on my door.
“Want to get high?” Holly asked, poking her head in my room.
“Sure!” I said eagerly, cracking the window of my room as Holly sat a few
feet from me on my bed.
She put the tip of the bowl to her lips and lit her lighter. She did
something I’ve still never seen someone do. She lit the bowl as if it was a
regular pipe, or even a cigar, taking multiple hits, inhaling each one.
It’s a trick I’ve yet to master.
Passing the bowl to me, I took a healthy sized hit of my own. I was
beginning to realize how wonderful being high really feels. Even if I never
smoked another cigarette, I knew that weed was something I would keep in my
life.
After a few minutes, the bowl had been thoroughly smoked.
“I can’t believe you kissed my mom,” I said to Holly, hoping to not sound
too critical. “Are you-like-you know?”
“Am I a lesbian?” Holly asked. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’d never
done anything like that before. But when I was so close to your mom’s lips,
and she was breathing in the smoke that I was exhaling from my own lungs,
something happened. It was unbelievable.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah,” admitted Holly, lighting a cigarette and handing me the pack.
“So you’d never kissed a girl before?” I asked, lighting up.
“No, never,” said Holly, laughing. “I like dick as much as the next
girl.”
We both found a lot of humor in the declaration, and laughed about it
heartily.
“What was it like?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“It was like kissing a guy, but there was something different,” Holly said.
“It was softer, more gentle.”
Stoned and brave, I leaned forward, closer to Holly. With the cigarette
safely between the fingers on my left hand, I brought my right hand to
Holly’s cheek, and gently stroked my fingers along her cheekbone, just below
her eye.
“Show me?” I asked, continuing to lean forward.
“Amy,” she said softly. “You’re stoned. You’ve known me your entire
life. Are you sure you want this?”
I answered by leaning closer still, until my lips gently danced across
Holly’s. She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue slide in and meet mine.
With our tongues wrestling with each other in a saliva frenzy, I felt
Holly’s hand slide down and squeeze my breast.
I couldn’t believe what I was doing, or who I was doing it with, but in the
heat of the proverbial moment, I didn’t care.
I slid my hand between Holly’s legs, and I could feel the heat roasting
inside her pants. Before I knew what happened, my pants were unzipped, and
Holly’s fingers began to rub at my clitoris.
“Wait,” I said, teasing Holly, who thought I was going to stop her.
I stood up from my seated position on the bed, and looked at Holly, who had
obviously fallen for my ruse.
Looking her directly in the eye, I slid my jeans and my panties down to the
floor, and returned to the bed. Rather than sitting, as I had done earlier,
I positioned myself on my back, with my feet flat and my knees bent.
“Now you can continue,” I said to Holly.
Holly smiled and repositioned herself so she was lying on her stomach, her
head between my knees. She returned her hand to my vagina, rubbing in a
circular motion.
Before I knew what happened, I felt Holly’s tongue begin to lick along my
clitoris. I’d had guys down there before, but never a woman. It felt
unbelievably wonderful.
Combining sex with marijuana led to a sequence of sensations unlike anything
I’d ever experienced. It didn’t take long for me to climax, but when I
did, it felt like the orgasm had spread over every inch of my body, and it
didn’t subside for what seemed like hours.
“Will you make me cum?” Holly asked as I regained control of my quivering
body.
“Of course,” I said as Holly rolled onto her back.
I nervously moved my face closer to Holly’s vagina. Spreading her lips as
wide as I could, I buried my tongue inside her waiting hole. Her juices
didn’t taste like I thought they would. Eating Holly’s pussy wasn’t
something I had ever thought of before, but now that I was doing it, I
couldn’t stop.
I slid my fingers furiously in and out of Holly’s wetness, finding her
“G-spot”. As soon as my fingers slid across the surface of that magical
place, Holly’s body began to tremble. She began to let out a little bit of
a squeal, which was muffled as she turned her head and buried it in the
pillow.
Holly arched her back, which pushed my tongue deeper inside her. In a few
seconds, her orgasm had stopped, and I’d finished making love to a woman for
the very first time.
“Oh my God,” Holly said, pulling a Marlboro Red out of her purse and
handing it to me.
“That was fucking awesome,” I said, putting the cork tip of the cigarette
between my lips.
Holly flicked the lighter and I leaned into the flame, pulling the smoke into
my lungs.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Scrambling to put our pants back on, we got dressed just seconds before the
door opened.
“Hi,” my mom said oblivious to what had been going on just seconds before
her entry. “I wasn’t sure if Holly would be in here or not, but I wanted
to say thank you for showing me how to smoke. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I
thought it would be.”
“Aww,” Holly began. “You’re welcome, Ana. In fact, Amy and I were just
enjoying a cigarette now, if you’d like to join us.”
I thought for sure that my mother would be angry as hell that I was smoking,
but to my surprise, she wasn’t. Instead, she smiled.
“I’d like that,” she said, moving closer to the bed.
Holly handed my mother a Marlboro, which she promptly put in her mouth.
Holly flicked her lighter once more, and my mom leaned into the flame,
cautiously lighting her cigarette.
She tried to inhale as best she could, and to everyone’s amazement, she
didn’t cough. She pursed her lips and exhaled a very tiny stream of smoke.
“You look so good smoking,” Holly said.
“Thanks,” answered my mother. “I think. Hey, what’s this thing?”
In an instant, my heart stopped beating. In our haste to make love to each
other, I’d left Holly’s bowl sitting on my nightstand, and my mother had
found it.
“Ana,” Holly said. “That’s my pipe. Do you want to smoke it?”
“Sure,” answered my mother.
“Are you sure?” Holly asked.
“Yeah, why not?” my mother confirmed.
I wondered if she knew that she was going to smoke weed. I decided it would
be best to not say anything.
Holly took the small bag out of her purse again, and set it on the bed.
“Oh my God!” my mother exclaimed. “Is that what I think it is?”
Holly laughed. “That depends. Do you think it’s marijuana?”
“Yeah,” said my mother.
“Then yes,” said Holly. “It is.”
“I can’t do that,” objected my mother.
“Why not?” asked Holly.
My mother said nothing. She just turned her head towards me as if to say
that I was the reason she could not get high.
Holly passed the bowl my direction. I didn’t know what to do. Should I
smoke it in front of my mother? Should I deny that I’ve ever even tried it?
My mother looked at me in shock. I could see clearly in her eyes that she
was realizing her little girl was growing up.
Without saying a word, I took the bowl from Holly and put the cold metal tip
in my lips. Holly flicked her lighter, and held it over the dried weed.
Not breaking my gaze into my mothers eyes, I began to inhale, sucking more of
the thick, creamy smoke from the bowl into my lungs. I carefully took the
bowl from my mouth, and held it out in my mother’s direction.
She silently took the shiny metal pipe and brought it to her lips. I watched
the contents of the bowl glow bright orange as my mother took her first ever
hit of marijuana.
I looked at Holly as I exhaled my hit. She was smiling.
Removing the bowl from her mouth, my mother inhaled as much of the smoke as
she could. Only a little escaped the corners of her mouth as she closed her
eyes and held the smoke inside her lungs.
Turning her head, she blew a larger stream of smoke out towards the ceiling.
It was obvious that my mother had begun to grasp the basic techniques of
smoking. She looked like a pro.
“That tastes great,” she declared as she blew out the last wisps of smoke.
“Just wait,” I said, taking the bowl back from her.
I took another hit, and offered the bowl to Holly, who smiled and politely
declined.
“This is a moment for you two,” she said as she took another puff on her
Marlboro.
I’d completely forgotten that I’d lit a cigarette, and took a huge double
puff as I passed the bowl to my mother.
Within fifteen minutes, our cigarettes were smoked, and the bowl again sat
atop my nightstand. I wasn’t sure about my mom, but I was stoned more than
I’d ever been in my brief experience with pot.
“So this is what it feels like?” she asked with a giggle.
“Yeah,” I said, lighting another cigarette.
“It’s nice,” said my mother, obviously feeling the effects. “How long
have you done this?”
“Honestly?” I replied. “I’d never tried it before I came home and hung
out with Holly.”
My mother looked at Holly, and at first I thought she was going to yell at
her for getting me to smoke weed. Instead, she laughed.
“So this is all your fault?” she said. “Thanks!”
We laughed at how ironic it was that my mother’s co-worker and friend was
the one who started her daughter on the path to so much.
I had no idea that the next time I returned home from school, it would be me
who was doing the teaching.
I returned to school the day before classes started, and immediately called
Danielle. There was so much to tell her.
“I think I’m hooked,” I told her. The news made her ecstatic.
“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “We can smoke together now!”
I laughed, but agreed.
“There’s more,” I said. “I got high, too.”
“No fucking way!” Danielle said. “You get your ass over here right now.
We’ve got some stuff to go over!”
I knew what she wanted, and to be honest, I didn’t care. I liked getting
high, and I wasn’t going to object to Danielle wanting me to smoke.
I hung up the phone and headed for Danielle’s room. As soon as I walked in
the door, I saw Danielle sitting on her bed with a good sized bong loaded and
ready for action. The smoke inside the chamber indicated that Danielle had
already begun smoking.
“Your turn,” she said, passing the bong to me.
I had never smoked from a bong before, so I wasn’t completely sure what to
do. Danielle instructed me to put my mouth over the opening, and she would
control the “carb”.
I put my lips inside the round opening on top of the bong, and began to pull
the smoke into my chest. It was noticeably stronger than the bowl I’d
smoked with Holly, but I didn’t mind, because after just two hits, I was
feeling invincible.
“I did some learning while I was on break too,” Danielle said
mischievously. “Wanna see?”
“Sure,” I said, holding the smoke in my lungs as long as I possibly could.
I had no idea what Danielle was getting me into.
She reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out a brown paper bag, like
the kind you carry your lunch in.
“Turn around,” she said, one hand in the bag.
Stoned and confused, I turned around, as requested. I heard Danielle fishing
around inside the bag.
“Okay, turn around,” Danielle said again.
When I returned to my original position, I saw Danielle sitting on the bed,
with both of her hands behind her back.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Pick a hand,” she said with an evil grin.
“Left,” I answered.
Danielle smiled, and brought her left hand around from behind her, revealing
a clenched fist.
“What’s that?” I asked nervously, unsure if I even wanted to know.
Danielle opened her fist, and displayed two small white pills.
“You’ve got to try this,” she said.
I couldn’t believe where my life was going. I was now a full-time smoker,
and I smoked pot every time I was offered. I’d also developed quite a taste
for good cigars.
Now I was being offered a mysterious tablet, most likely a drug of some sort,
and I, Amy Wilkins, was actually considering trying it, without even asking
what it was. I concluded that I’d more than likely try whatever it was I
was being offered, but for my own peace of mind, I had to ask what it was.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The name describes it perfectly,” Danielle said. “Ecstasy.”
I took the pill from Danielle’s palm, and put it in my mouth. Having always
been able to take pills without a drink, I closed my mouth and swallowed the
pill, then watched as Danielle put her own pill in her mouth and took a drink
of water.
“Once it hits,” Danielle said. “It’s fucking awesome.”
“Cool,” I said, still in shock over how much I’d changed. “So what if
I’d picked the other hand?”
“That’s a little different,” Danielle said. “I’m not sure if you can
handle this or not.”
I was offended at the implication that I couldn’t handle anything Danielle
might throw at me. Looking back, I’m sure that’s exactly what Danielle
wanted, and I walked right into her trap.
“I can handle whatever you’ve fucking got, baby!” I declared. “Now let
me see!”
Danielle brought her right hand around from behind her, and set a small
bottle on the bed between us.
“What is that?” I asked.
I watched intently as Danielle picked up the bottle, and unscrewed the top.
Protruding from the bottom of the cap was a small metal contraption,
resembling the tiniest of spoons. It was covered in a white powder.
“You’re doing coke now?” I asked in disbelief.
“No,” Danielle said as she brought the spoon to her left nostril. She
snorted the powder into her nose and returned the cap to the bottle. She
brought it to her right nostril and sniffed again.
“Could have fooled me,” I said laughing.
“But you’re wrong,” said Danielle, returning the cap to the bottle.
“I’m not doing cocaine. We’re going to do it.”
She again removed the top and held it out my direction.
I froze.
“I can’t do that, Danielle,” I said. “That’s a lot different than
cigarettes, weed, or even ecstasy. That’s fucking cocaine!”
“You’ve already done it,” Danielle said slyly.
“What do you-no I haven’t!” I objected.
“Yes, Amy,” she said. “You have. There’s cocaine in ecstasy, so you’ll
probably start to feel that soon, you smoked some when you smoked the bong.
There was some mixed in with the pot. It’s really not a major deal.”
I couldn’t believe that Danielle had tricked me the way she had, but now
that I knew what was causing the sensations that I was feeling, I wanted to
feel them more.
“You’re a bitch, you know that,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’ll be thanking this bitch if you stop being a pussy and try
it,” insisted Danielle.
Realizing that I wasn’t going to get out of the room without trying it, I
leaned forward and positioned my nose over the spoon.
“Just sniff,” Danielle said.
I did as instructed, and I felt the cocaine fly up and into my nostril and
slide gingerly down the back of my throat. It tasted bitter, but within
seconds, I felt the effects. It was incredible.
I voluntarily snorted a second time, this time into my other nostril.
Seconds later, the feelings were heightened even further.
“Wow,” I said with a smile, wiping my nose.
“So how did this all start?” Danielle asked, lighting a cigarette for
herself, and passing the pack to me.
I lit my cigarette and inhaled the smoke. It wasn’t as strong as the
Marlboro Reds I’d gotten used to, but it was still incredible.
Due to the fact that I was stoned, my inhibitions were again gone, and I
proceeded to tell Danielle everything about my experiences with Holly.
She couldn’t believe that I’d made love to another woman, especially one
that was a friend of my mother. I was more than a bit surprised when
Danielle asked me what it was like to kiss a girl.
I volunteered to show Danielle exactly what it was like, and to my amazement,
she accepted. We didn’t do anything other than a few very passionate
kisses, but it was still nice.
I secretly dated Danielle for the remainder of my freshman year, and although
we never made love, we did get extremely intimate. I still know that I
prefer men, but there’s something about the love and affection another woman
can show me that will always be special to me. (I’ve decided that I’m
bisexual, something that very few people know about me.)
At the end of our freshman year, Danielle and I said good-bye, and we went
our separate ways for the summer.
I didn’t tell my parents when I was coming home, primarily because I wanted
to surprise them. This would also mean that I’d be able to have Holly pick
me up and drive me home. I looked forward to the time I could spend alone
with her.
Climbing into her car at the airport, I looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” Holly asked, with a freshly lit Marlboro Red between her
lips.
“I want you to try something,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“You trust me, don’t you?” I asked.
“Of course, hun,” Holly said. “After the things we’ve done together, how
could I not trust you?”
“Then you’ve got to try this,” I urged.
I pulled my own small bottle out of my purse. Danielle had shown me a great
little shop downtown near school where I was able to buy just about anything
I wanted.
“What are you doing?” Holly asked.
I figured the best way to get Holly to do coke was to trick her in a way
similar to the way my mother had been tricked into smoking.
“Close your eyes, and I’ll show you,” I said, trying to sound as sexy as I
possibly could.
Holly closed her eyes, and I removed the top from my bottle. Moving the tip
of the wand close to Holly’s nose, I put my plan into action.
“Your nose is running,” I said.
Instinctively, Holly sniffed her nose, which snorted the cocaine into her
nose.
“What the fuck?” she said, opening her eyes. “What was that?”
“Cocaine,” I said, snorting a small amount myself.
“I can’t believe you gave me cocaine!” Holly demanded. “I don’t do
that shit!”
“You will,” I said. “In just a few seconds, you’ll realize how wonderful
it is, and you’ll want to do it. Then we’ll get my mom to do it. And
then, I’ll teach you guys about the most amazing drug of them all.”
Though she objected, the cocaine eventually dropped any inhibitions that
Holly was having, and we did just that.
That night, we somehow convinced my mother to snort two lines of cocaine, and
we all took some ecstasy. It felt so unbelievably good to be so fucking bad.
Words can not describe it.
That was a long time ago, though. I still smoke cigarettes, and love every
one of them. I currently smoke almost a pack a day of Marlboro Lights 100s,
though sometimes I’ll buy a pack of Marlboro 100s and think about Holly.
I don’t really do coke or e anymore, but sometimes if I’m at a party, I’ll
do a line or two, or I’ll “roll” as it’s called.
My mom also smokes a pack a day, but she’s switched to Marlboro Lights
Menthol 100s. I’ve had a few of hers, but I’m not a big fan of the menthol
at all. She was pissed at me for doing the other things, but once she tried
them, she didn’t mind quite so much.
Holly eventually divorced her husband, and is much happier on her own. She
smokes just as much as ever, and if I ever want anything, I can go to her
house and buy just about whatever I want. Coke, ecstasy, weed, acid,
“shrooms”, heroin-she’s done it all. She’s in remarkable shape, really.
She doesn’t look at all like what you’d expect. Because of that beauty,
more than once I’ve found myself on her doorstep, knocking on the door, not
for drugs, but for sex.
A few times, she has convinced me to try a few different drugs, but I don’t
want to become an addict, so I keep the experimentation to a minimum. All
I’ll say is that I’ve tried everything Holly has to offer-EVERYTHING.
I’m alright, but Holly can eat a pussy like you wouldn’t believe.