After a school day that seemed to last forever, Nicki
showed up for track practice with a Benson and Hedges
full-flavored menthol dangling from her lips. The rest of
the Filter Queens were already there. There were eight
lovely, smoking, athletic women, including Nicki, who
called themselves the Filter Queens. Sarah’s mother, Lori,
had suggested the name for the girls’ track team after
their amazing transformation from a group of athletic,
apparently militant, anti-smokers to a group of heavily
addicted smokers who happened to run track and who could no
longer run an entire race without a cigarette.
Nicki saw Sarah sitting in her usual spot, near the top of
the bleachers, chain-smoking Marlboro 100s. Nicki climbed
the bleachers and sat down next to Sarah. Nicki, slightly
out of breath and panting, took a long drag from her
cigarette, inhaled deeply, and said, “Hi, Sarah! Guess
what!”
“Let me guess,” said Sarah. “Smoking causes lung cancer? I
know. I’ve heard. Isn’t it wonderful?” Sarah had become
more and more obsessed with the damage that she was doing
to her lungs. She found that she became aroused just
thinking about it. With a devilish grin on her face Sarah
took a long drag from her cigarette and inhaled the smoke
deep into her dark and brittle lungs. There was a
noticeable wheeze as wheeze inhaled. She could hear popping
sounds coming from her expanding lung tissue, now devoid of
any trace its original elasticity, as it attempted to
stretch to make room for Sarah’s smoke.
“Sarah, you are just too fucking weird,” said Nicki,
shaking her head. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.
Actually, I’ve got some good news. I met a guy, Sarah, just
like you said I would. He’s wonderful!” Nicki’s cheeks
caved in around the filter of her cigarette as she sucked
fresh tar into her still heaving chest.
“That’s great, Nicki! What’s his name?” Sarah double-pumped
her Marlboro 100 and inhaled deeply. She held the smoke
deep in her lungs, without exhaling.
“His name is David,” said Nicki. “He works at a convenience
store I run past every morning.” Without exhaling her
previous drag, Nicki took another long drag and inhaled all
of the smoke deep into her enormous lungs.
Sarah coughed deeply, cleared her throat, and coughed
again. Her entire body shook as her hacking cough
continued. It was a deep, gurgly cough, as Sarah’s lungs
struggled valiantly in their gradually losing effort to
keep Sarah breathing. Their job was to flush out the daily
onslaught of tar and filth pumped in by Sarah’s incessant
smoking and to infuse fresh oxygen into Sarah’s
bloodstream. Sarah’s goal was to pump her lungs so full of
tar that the mere presence of oxygen would be a virtual
impossibility. Only then would Sarah feel she had smoked
enough. Only then would she feel she had fulfilled her
rightful destiny. With watering eyes, she placed the dark
brown filter of her cigarette between her lips and sucked
powerfully. She inhaled quickly and deeply and then
repeated the process with a second, more deeply inhaled
drag. Sarah’s demoralized lungs seemed to give up as they
shrugged their shoulders in passive submission. Sarah could
almost feel the loosened tar particles settling back into
place inside her ashtray-like chest. “Ahhhh…that’s
better,” she said with a satisfied smile on her face. “And
how does David feel about your smoking?”
“That’s the best part! He loves it! He said he worships
women who smoke and that he would encourage me to smoke
more. He would never ask me to quit. You wouldn’t believe
how turned on he got as I smoked. Well…maybe you would,”
said Nicki, grinning.
“I would, and I’m really happy for you, Nicki,” said Sarah
as she finished off her Marlboro 100 with a deeply inhaled
triple-pump. With smoke pouring from her nostrils, she
placed a fresh cigarette between her lips and lit it from
the still-glowing cigarette butt in her hand. She
double-pumped her fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply, even
as the smoke from her previous cigarette was still coming
out of her nostrils.
“It’s amazing, but I think, maybe, I’m in love, Sarah,”
said Nicki, blushing. She dragged deeply from her cigarette
and felt the warm smoke fill her lungs.
“Wow! That was fast,” said Sarah. “I hope you’re not
rushing into anything.” Smoke from her previous drag
continued to come out of Sarah’s mouth with each word she
spoke.
“I don’t think so,” said Nicki. “There’s something special
about David. I’m going to meet him after practice today.”
Nicki exhaled a long, white plume of smoke skyward before
finishing off her cigarette with a deeply inhaled
double-pump. “I want you to meet him, Sarah.” Nicki reached
into the pocket of her running shorts and pulled out her
hard pack of Benson and Hedges Menthols. With a fresh
cigarette dangling from her lips, she leaned toward Sarah
and got a light from the cigarette dangling from Sarah’s
lips.
“I’d like to meet him, Nicki,” said Sarah as she, once
again, pumped her lungs full of her beloved, tar-enriched,
Marlboro 100 smoke.
“Good. I’ve got to go run, now,” said Nicki as she climbed
down the bleachers with her freshly lit cigarette dangling
from her lips.
“Run your ass off, Nicki,” said Sarah. “Give those lungs a
workout.” She clasped her hands behind her head, leaned
back, stretched out her legs, and, with her cigarette
dangling from her lips, inhaled smoke deep into the darkest
regions of her poorly maintained lungs. “I can really get
into this track thing,” thought Sarah to herself as she
closed her eyes and took another long, cheek-hollowing,
dangling drag.
The Queens’ practice sessions had become something of a
sensation as news of the girls’ smoking exploits spread
across the state. They smoked extra heavily during each
practice session, much more heavily than during actual
competitions. The relay races were especially fun to watch.
Instead of passing a baton from runner to runner, the
Queens would pass a lighted cigarette to each other and
smoke it while running at full speed. They could almost
finish off an entire 100 millimeter cigarette during a 400
yard relay race.
Sarah had become the team’s official cheerleader. She would
lead the fans in cheers while dangling her usual Marlboro
100 from her lips, waving a carton of cigarettes in each
hand. She would encourage the crowd to light up and smoke
along with the Filter Queens. The slight physical exertion
involved in her cheerleading would usually be enough to
send Sarah into a coughing fit, much to the delight of the
crowd. She would then have to go down on one knee for a few
moments and take a few deeply inhaled drags from her
cigarette, until she felt the calming effect of the
nicotine coursing through her veins.
At first there was always a large faction of anti-smokers
in the crowd. They would chant protests and try to lecture
the girls on the evils of smoking. But, gradually, the
smokers began to outnumber the non-smokers. Before long,
the feeble protests of the few remaining diehard
anti-smokers in the crowd were completely drowned out by
the wildly enthusiastic cheers of the smokers, especially
the men. The Queens had acquired a large following of male
groupies. Their legions seemed to grow with each passing
track meet. They were easy to spot at a Queens event. They
were the ones with the drool coming out of the corners of
their mouths and the large bulges in their pants.
Nicki St. James was, unquestionably, the star of the team
and the darling of the fans. She would always put on an
extra special smoking performance at each practice. She
would chain-smoke continuously while on the sidelines,
double – and triple-pumping each deeply inhaled drag,
sometimes smoking two cigarettes at a time. She would light
up a fresh cigarette while positioning herself in the
starting blocks for each race. She would run each race with
her cigarette dangling from her lips, dragging, inhaling,
and exhaling throughout the race. At the finish line, while
hunched over and hyperventilating, she would fill her
enormous lungs with a deeply inhaled triple-pump and exhale
a long plume of smoke to the wildly enthusiastic crowd. She
loved to mingle with her fans and would frequently
autograph cartons of cigarettes for them.
Although Nicki was the team captain, and the most popular
of the Filter Queens, each of the girls had her own group
of admirers. They would frequently receive gifts from the
fans after each event. Usually they would receive packs, or
entire cartons, of their own brand of cigarettes. The
cartons would usually be wrapped in bright ribbons and have
little love notes attached. Sometimes they would receive
lighters or other smoking accessories as gifts. Thanks to
their legions of fans, including the exceptionally generous
Mark Polmoni, none of the Filter Queens ever had to spend
one cent on cigarettes. In fact, they had such a surplus of
cigarettes that they had to figure out some way to
distribute all the cigarettes before they went stale.
Sarah came up with the idea of raffling the cigarettes off
to fellow students. For a fifty cent raffle ticket a
student could win a carton of cigarettes. All money taken
in would be given to the student council to be used for
student field trips and other activities. The idea proved
to be so successful that the student council canceled their
annual bake sale and car wash days to concentrate solely on
the cigarette raffles. After the first two raffles the
student council had already taken in more money than in all
previous fundraising events combined. More students than
ever were smoking and the student smoking lounge became the
center of all student activities.
Mark and Lori could not have been prouder. This whole
smoking revolution could be traced back to their
nicotine-addicted daughter, their pride and joy, Sarah. It
was all because of Sarah that Nicki had started smoking.
And once Nicki had started smoking openly, her teammates
had followed suit. Nicki’s teammates had all, apparently,
been non-smokers when they had first joined the track team.
But, as it turned out, most of them had actually
experimented with smoking at one time or another in secret.
Several were actually closet smokers who had been smoking
for years. Each of the girls had maintained, publicly, the
appearance of a non-smoker. This was primarily because of
the fact that their captain, Nicki, was the most militant
anti-smoker in the entire school. Nicki used to give
anti-smoking speeches at student rallies. Nicki and her
teammates would often chastise other students who smoked.
If any one of the girls on the track team had openly
admitted being a smoker, she would have been immediately
ostracized by the rest of the team.
When Nicki’s smoking became public, most of her teammates
were actually relieved, at least the ones who had already
been smoking secretly. They were only too glad to go public
along with Nicki. The two members of the track team who had
not previously tried smoking were so enthralled by Nicki’s
smoking prowess, and by that of their other smoking
teammates, that they quickly succumbed to peer pressure and
became smokers themselves. Never for an instant did any one
of the girls regret her decision to start smoking.
We already know about Nicki St. James. Now, let’s meet the
other members of the Filter Queens…
First of all, there was Michelle. She was short, and
somewhat stocky, and had long, red hair. She smoked Winston
100s. She had first tried smoking in the fourth grade and
had been smoking, secretly, ever since. She was ecstatic
about finally going public with her smoking and was now up
to a pack-and-a-half per day.
Next was Ellie. Ellie was tall and thin, with green eyes
and short blonde hair. Her breasts were small and firm. The
best way to envision her is to imagine Ally McBeal with
platinum blonde hair. Ellie first tried smoking at the age
of twelve, when she began stealing her mother’s Kools. She
had been smoking, off-and-on, ever since, and was now up to
two packs per day of Kool Super Longs.
Darla had short, dark brown, spiked hair and bore a strong
resemblance to Fairuza Balk in “The Craft.” She had large
breasts and sported several tattoos. She smoked
two-and-a-half packs of Marlboro Reds per day. She had been
smoking since the age of ten, when her older sister had
gotten her started.
Kathy had never tried smoking before being urged on by her
teammates. She was a tiny, petite girl, with small breasts
and long, blonde hair. She had always been fascinated by
the sight of women smoking, but had never had the courage
to try it. She was secretly thrilled when she found out her
teammates had started smoking, and was more than willing to
show her team spirit. In a little less than a month she had
developed a pack-a-day habit for full-flavored Virginia
Slims Menthols.
Maria had been smoking longer than any of the Filter
Queens. She had started smoking Newport 100s at the age of
nine and had never stopped. Maria was a Puerto Rican girl
with short, black hair and petite breasts. She was tall and
thin and had supermodel looks. She was also an unwed mother
with a one-year old daughter. During her pregnancy, Maria
had increased her smoking from one to two packs per day.
Now, with the stress of being a mother and a high school
student at the same time, she was smoking close to three
packs of Newport 100s per day.
Joanie smoked Salem 100s and had been secretly smoking
since the age of twelve. She was of medium height, with
rather large breasts, and had long, light brown hair. She,
like the other girls, was ecstatic to be able to finally
smoke openly, and had increased from a pack per day to
nearly two packs of Salem 100s per day.
Lisa, like Kathy, had never tried smoking before. She had
dark brown, shoulder-length hair. She was short and had
full, round breasts. She was somewhat tentative about
smoking, but felt a definite urge to give it a try when she
saw Nicki smoking. She decided on Marlboro Light 100s and
quickly worked her way up to nearly a pack per day, all the
while wondering why she had ever thought smoking was a
horrible habit.
Smoking had brought the girls closer together, closer than
most teammates. They reveled in their smoking and loved
thumbing their noses at the anti-smoking zealots who
presumed to tell the girls how they should treat their own
bodies. The Filter Queens’ athletic performances had
started to decline, especially in the long distance events,
but no one, least of all the girls themselves, seemed to
care. They had discovered something more important than
winning. They had discovered the true essence of athletic
competition, something rarely achieved by the best
professional athletes. The Filter Queens had discovered how
to have fun and thoroughly enjoy themselves while competing
in their favorite sport.
The Filter Queens truly enjoyed each other’s company, and
they showed it on the track. While on the sidelines,
between events, they would hold impromptu smoking contests.
These contests would always drive the fans wild. Standing
side by side, the girls would see who could exhale the
longest stream of smoke, or who could generate the most
smoke rings from one drag. Sometimes they would see who
could hold smoke in her lungs the longest, or who could
take the most drags without taking a breath. Sarah would
frequently join the Queens in these smoking contests. This
wasn’t really fair, since Sarah could win any smoking
contest without even trying. One of Sarah’s favorites was
the talking exhale contest. This is where each girl, in
turn, takes a deep drag from her cigarette and starts
reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. The object is to see,
first, how far you can get before smoke starts coming out
of your mouth. Then, once the smoke starts coming, you see
how far you can get before smoke stops coming out of your
mouth. If you can make it to the end, with smoke still
flowing from your mouth, you start over. Sarah could always
recite the pledge three, and sometimes four times, with
tight bursts of smoke still shooting from her mouth and
plenty of excess smoke still held deep in her dirty lungs.
Mark’s secretary, Bonnie, was in the stands on this
particular day. Bonnie and her Winstons were sitting next
to Sarah, watching the Filter Queens smoke their way
through another practice session. Bonnie, who had always
been handy with a needle and thread, had done her part in
supporting the Queens by making specially customized track
outfits for the girls. The shirts were white with the words
“Filter Queens” emblazoned across the front. On the back of
each shirt was a girl’s name, her number, and, below the
number, the brand of cigarettes she smoked. The running
shorts were a sort of brownish orange with little white
specks. They were designed to look like a cork filter from
a cigarette. On the right hip was a little pouch-pocket,
with a velcro flap, just the right size for a pack of 100
millimeter cigarettes. On the left hip was a little elastic
loop, just right for holding a butane lighter firmly in
place. Bonnie had delivered the outfits before practice
today and was now watching them in use for the first time.
The girls loved their new outfits. It brought them an even
greater sense of camaraderie. Nicki put on an extra special
smoking performance, inhaling drag after drag, non-stop,
while running each of her practice races. By the end of the
practice her chest was heaving. She had smoked an entire
pack of cigarettes during the ninety-minute session.
After practice, Nicki climbed up the bleachers, with a
freshly lit Benson and Hedges Menthol dangling from her
lips, and sat down next to Bonnie. She was panting heavily
and could barely catch her breath. As Bonnie took a long
drag from her king-sized Winston, Nicki said, “Thank you so
much for these uniforms, Bonnie. They are simply
wonderful.”
“It was my pleasure, Nicki,” said Bonnie, exhaling Winston
smoke as she spoke. “I’m happy to support the team in any
way I can. I just wish I could be out there with you. It
looks like so much fun.”
Sarah, sitting on the other side of Bonnie, coughed deeply
and said, “Not me! Cheerleading is strenuous enough, thank
you.” She continued her deep, hoarse coughing as she pulled
a fresh pack of Marlboro 100s from her purse and started
removing the cellophane strip.
Bonnie laughed and turned to Nicki. “Nicki,” she said,
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Go ahead,” said Nicki, her chest still heaving, as she
exhaled a long stream of smoke.
“Well, your last name rang a bell with me when I first
heard it,” said Bonnie. “But I couldn’t quite place it.
Then, last night, I remembered something. Nicki, what is
your mother’s name?”
“Connie,” said Nicki, with a puzzled look.
“Ah ha!” said Bonnie. “And her maiden name?”
“Reynolds,” said Nicki. “Connie Reynolds.”
“I thought so,” said Bonnie as she dragged deeply on her
Winston. “Your mother and I were best friends in high
school. We did everything together. Then, in our senior
year, she started seeing a boy named St. James. I didn’t
know him. He was from a different school. All of a sudden,
one day, just a couple of months before graduation, she
didn’t show up for school. I never saw her again after
that. A few weeks later, I received a brief note from her
in the mail. She said she had run off and gotten married
and that she had quit school and had moved to another town.
That was the last I heard of her.”
“That’s amazing,” said Nicki as she took a long drag from
her cigarette. “My mother never told me anything like
that.”
“It must be her, though,” said Bonnie. “How old is your
mother?”
“Forty-six,” said Nicki.
“So am I,” said Bonnie.
“My mother did go to school here,” said Nicki. “We lived in
another town when I was little, but we moved back here when
I was nine. I can’t believe she wouldn’t have looked you up
if you had been best friends in school.”
“Well, people change,” said Bonnie, as she finished off her
Winston with a cheek-hollowing drag and dropped the glowing
butt through the bleachers to the ground below. “Is she
still smoking Salems?”
“Now I know you’re talking about a different person,” said
Nicki. “My mother is the biggest anti I know. I’m sure she
has never smoked.”
“Hmmm,” said Bonnie. “The Connie I knew was deeply devoted
to her springtime-fresh Salems. We used to smoke together
everywhere. In the girls’ restroom. On the school bus.
Everywhere. We were a team. Other kids would refer to us as
Bonnie and Connie, the Winston-Salem girls.”
“I just can’t believe it,” said Nicki as she finished off
her Benson and Hedges Menthol with a double-pump. “It must
be just an amazing coincidence. You can’t be talking about
my mother.”
“Maybe,” said Bonnie. “Let’s see. The Connie I knew had a
younger sister named Louise. She smoked Winstons, just as I
did.”
“Oh, my God! That’s my aunt Louise,” said Nicki, now
stunned.
“In fact, I remember one time, when I was at Connie’s
house, I secretly slipped a few of my Winstons to Louise,
who was not yet allowed to smoke. Connie had been given
permission to smoke by her parents because she was sixteen.
But Louise had to wait. I remember the look of delight in
her eyes as I gave her my cigarettes. How is she?” asked
Bonnie.
“Aunt Louise died of lung cancer when I was seven,” said
Nicki. “She smoked Winston 100s when I knew her. She loved
her cigarettes. She smoked them right to the very end. As
far as I knew, she was my only relative who smoked.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Bonnie. “Louise
seemed like such a fun loving person.”
“She was,” said Nicki. “I loved staying with her. I can
still remember the smell of her house. As soon as I walked
in the door I could smell her Winstons. I always loved that
smell. I used to look forward to it. The sad thing is, my
mother was not on good terms with my aunt. She always told
me that smoking was evil. She used to say, ‘One of these
days, Louise is going to end up with lung cancer. Then
she’ll be sorry. Just you wait and see.’ Well, it finally
happened.”
“It’s a heavy price we pay for our pleasure,” said Bonnie.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her pack of
Winstons. She gazed at her cigarettes for a moment, then
said, “But it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” She placed a
fresh Winston between her lips. With her unlit cigarette
dangling, she said, “I’ve never regretted my decision to
smoke. I can’t imagine life without my Winstons.” She lit
up, inhaled deeply, and said, “They’ve been my constant
companion. They’ve kept me company on many a lonely night.
They’re a part of me.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” said Nicki, tears welling up
in her eyes. “But I still can’t believe this news about my
mother. I wonder why she never told me she was a smoker.
I’ll have a talk with her when I see her tonight.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons for keeping it from you,
Nicki,” said Bonnie. “You know what they say. The most
militant anti-smokers are always ex-smokers themselves.
Well, say hello to your mother for me. Maybe I’ll try to
get in touch with her. I hope she remembers me after all
these years.”
“I’m sure she will, Bonnie. I’ll tell her I met you. I’ve
got to go now. I have a date. Thanks again for the
uniforms.”
“It was my pleasure,” said Bonnie. “Have fun on your date.”
“I’m sure I will,” said Nicki, smiling, as she placed a
fresh cigarette between her lips.
Sarah started coughing again as she sat up and watched
Bonnie carefully work her way down the bleachers.
“That’s a nasty hack, Sarah,” said Nicki as she lit her
cigarette and filled her athletic lungs with rich tar. “Is
that what I have to look forward to?”
“If you’re lucky,” said Sarah. The filter of Sarah’s
cigarette flattened out from the force of her collapsing
cheeks, as she sucked desperately on her Marlboro 100,
trying to entice every last molecule of tar into her
heavily damaged lungs. “Do you feel lucky…punk?” A thick
burst of smoke came out of Sarah with the word “punk” as
she laughed at her poor Clint Eastwood impression.
“I feel unusually lucky today, Sarah,” said Nicki, beaming.
“I have a date with a guy who drools over my smoke-filled
lungs and I just found out my mother may not be the anti I
always thought she was. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nicki took
a cheek-hollowing drag as she started jogging towards the
locker room. “And try to do something about that cough.”
“I will,” said Sarah, as she lit another Marlboro 100 and
inhaled deeply. As the toxic smoke soaked into Sarah’s
dark, tar-stained lung tissue, her lungs, once again, saw
fit to go to battle. The now familiar sound of Sarah’s
coughing could be heard in the distance as Nicki reached
the locker room.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was after midnight when Nicki returned home. She had
enjoyed a wonderful evening of passionate, smoke-filled sex
with David. She had never felt so happy in her life. She
couldn’t wait to see him again. She was singing to herself
as she dragged on her cigarette and turned up her driveway.
There, in the driveway, she saw a car she did not
recognize. From her house she could hear laughter.
Nicki opened her front door and walked inside. As she
walked into the living room, she saw a sight that nearly
made her jaw hit the floor. On the sofa, sitting next to
each other and laughing, were Bonnie and Nicki’s mother. On
the coffee table was an ashtray overflowing with cigarette
butts. The butts seemed to be an even mix of cork filters
and whites. On the table in front of Bonnie was the usual
pack of Winstons. Bonnie was just reaching into the pack
for a fresh cigarette. On the table in front of Nicki’s
mother was a pack of king-sized Salems. From the flattened
look of the pack, it was nearly empty. And, most shocking
of all, between the fingers of Nicki’s mother, was a
freshly lit white cigarette, a Salem, Nicki presumed.
Nicki’s mother was exhaling short bursts of white smoke as
she laughed at something Bonnie had just said.
Nicki stood in the doorway, took a drag from her cigarette,
and cleared her throat. Nicki’s mother, startled, turned
her head and said, “Oh, hi, Honey, I didn’t hear you come
in.” With wide eyes and an embarrassed look on her face,
she stared at Nicki and grinned sheepishly. Slowly, she
lifted her cigarette to her lips and took a long,
cheek-hollowing drag. She closed her eyes and smiled as she
felt the cool menthol hit the back of her throat.
“Oh, Mommy!” said Nicki, in a Ricky Ricardo impression
every bit as lame as Sarah’s Clint Eastwood, “You got some
splainin’ to do!”