As much as Shirlie would have loved to help her new neighbour moving in, heavy lifting was never one of her kind’s strengths, in a literal sense. Not that she didn’t watch the moving crew carry everything in, if only to stare at the two holstaurs among the movers. The rest were human, and the cow-girls might have passed for human as well, if not for the exposed horns and much larger chests. Shirlie knew they were stronger than the average human, and even though their endowments seemed to get in the way, they seemed to carry heavy things together with greater ease than the humans.
One of the cow-women stopped, stepping aside and taking a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. Shirlie moved away from the window, off of the couch she’d been kneeling on. Hopefully the lace curtains hadn’t made her staring too obvious. Her white fluffy hair would have blended in with the curtains, and her curled horns might have looked like something in the house. Was the new owner among the crew moving things in, or had they yet to arrive for good? The sheep-girl pondered what to do for her new neighbour, to welcome them to the neighbourhood — bake them something? Get a few other neighbours together to welcome them?
She returned to the window, just in time to see the smoking cow-woman exhale a cloud of smoke. Shirlie’s attention lingered on her from time-to-time, while the rest of the crew continued carrying furniture and boxes inside. One of the human women joined the holstaur for a smoke, chatting with the cow-woman in-between drags.
Just as the cow-woman finished, a red sportscar pulled into the driveway. That was probably the new owner’s ride. Though she couldn’t deny being a little nervous, Shirlie smiled as she headed for the door, heading out into the comfortable autumn air and making her way over.
The woman in the sportscar stepped out, and Shirlie said, “Hello! Are you our new neighbo…ur?”
Her voice trailed off as she took in the features of this woman, namely the tall ears and swishing tail that distinguished her from an ordinary human. A donkey-girl? What Shirlie knew about donkey-girls…
The woman turned, taking off her sunglasses — and the resemblance was immediate. “Wait a sec…” the donkey-girl said, a grin spreading over her face. “Shirlie? From Heatherford High School?”
A blush instantly overtaking her face, Shirlie said, “…yep. Es-Esmeralda?”
The donkey-girl laughed, brushing strands of her long grey-brown hair away from her face. “Huh, what a coincidence! Moving in next-door to an ex-girlfriend.”
Shirlie nodded. “Would…would you like to come visit my place, sit for a bit? While the movers are s-still bringing everything in?”
“You’re always so cute when you’re flustered,” Esme said. “Sure.”
Shirlie led Esme into her home, showing her ex around her own home. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” Esme said as their tour ended on the couch in Shirlie’s den. “Looks so cozy, just like a sheep-girl.”
The sheep-girl couldn’t help but to giggle. There were always certain stereotypes about the monster-girls who now lived among humans, and they were often true. Shirlie did love her fluffy blankets, plush pillows, and the like. And Esme…
Just as she thought about it, Esme asked, “Do you mind if I smoke in here?”
Terrified at the thought of her face turning red if she kept her answer in, Shirlie said, “Oh, no, not at all. Just let me open a window…”
The window was already open; Shirlie opened it a bit more as Esme lit her cigarette. The familiar smell of Esme’s cigarettes filled the living room, and when Shirlie looked back, the donkey-girl let out a thick cloud of smoke as she rested back into the couch. “So,” asked Esme, “what have you been up to lately?”
“N-not much,” Shirlie said, staying by the window. “Continuing my biology degree, planning on working in science or medicine. Y-you?”
“I think I’ve gotten over my rebellious phase,” Esme replied, taking a puff. “I’ve got a job at my aunt’s restaurant at the moment, and I’ll think of what I’ll do later in life.”
A “rebellious phase” was what most folks called donkey-girls’ teenage years. It was common for them to go through a punk-ish attitude, settling out of it as they matured, though donkey-girls were common in punk-rock bands. It was also the time in their lives when they usually started smoking — Shirlie had heard jokes that sixteen was when donkey-girls began to require nicotine to survive rather than oxygen, and when she was dating Esme, Esme was seventeen and already chain- smoking once school was over. That’d been…part of the reason they’d split after a few months…
Neither said much, and Shirlie simply watched Esme smoke her cigarette, watched the smoke dancing from the tip and flowing from the donkey-girl’s lips. Once she finished, she put the butt into a little cup she’d flicked her ashes into. “I’d better make sure the movers are putting everything in the right places,” Esme said, rising to her feet.
“Of course,” Shirlie replied. “It’s good to see you again, Esme.”
“Heheh, you too, Shirlie. Still as adorable as ever.”
Shirlie felt her cheeks warm a little — enough to turn red? She led Esme to the front door, and as the donkey-girl walked down the pathway, she lit herself another cigarette, smoke billowing from her lungs as she returned to her new home.
The scent of her cigarette lingered in Shirlie’s den as the sheep-girl returned, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh. Esme, living next-door? Shirlie glanced out the window once more, spotting Esme chatting with the human woman still on her smoke break, then forced herself to look away as she saw Esme put her cigarette to her lips.
She’d known Esme was a smoker when the donkey-girl first asked her out. Well…hadn’t “known,” but Esme was a donkey-girl, so it was a solid guess. It was just a thing of her people to be smokers, something to do with their views on hedonism and pleasure. Funny that things had never gotten to the point of “hedonism” when they’d dated, despite…
If Shirlie’s mum had known she was dating a smoker, her mum would have flipped, panicked that Shirlie was in with a bad crowd, that she’d end up starting the habit herself. The curiosity had crossed her mind a few times with Esme, but she’d maintained her willpower. Even if she wondered sometimes about the classic cliche of the post-sex smoke…
Her face had turned red now, Shirlie knew. And that was why she’d stopped dating Esme, why she’d called it quits with the donkey-girl. It was one thing for people to talk about her, just because she was dating a donkey-girl despite being known as an upstanding student and sweet girl.
But how embarrassed would she have been if they found out she was…kinda turned-on by watching girls smoke?
When she looked outside, the human woman had returned to work, and Esme was taking a drag as she walked to her front door. Shirlie couldn’t help but to picture the donkey-girl’s exhale, blowing the smoke away like she was in a porn shoot, with a playful look in her eyes as she drew her cigarette back to her lips…
Shirlie forced herself away from the window. Having Esme living next door might end up being a little…awkward.
Part 2
It was a week after Esme moved in that she invited Shirlie over for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time the sheep-girl had visited, to help her ex out with setting everything up.
Of course the donkey-girl was smoking every time she was over. Already Shirlie was accustomed to the smell of her smoke, and already it had begun to linger in Esme’s home. It had probably settled into her furniture long ago.
It’d been offered as nothing but a friendly dinner, a thanks for all of Shirlie’s help. Yet as she stared at her wardrobe, Shirlie trembled at the thought of what she’d wear. Something too nice, and Esme might rib her for it — if not think it was an attempt to hook up with Esme again.
…would she be willing? Would Shirlie herself want that? Esme had been fun, and Shirlie hadn’t really minded her frequent smoking while they’d been together. They’d probably end up going farther than they had in high school. Then again, if it didn’t work out, being neighbors would be even more awkward.
Not that it wasn’t already, or that it wouldn’t be even more so if Esme happened to glance towards Shirlie’s windows while she lounged out back, enjoying a cigarette. The donkey-girl sometimes laid out on one of the long chairs, a thick pillow beneath her as she smoked. Shirlie watched sometimes, wondering what Esme
would wear nowadays in the summer, picturing her on a sunny day while she blew smoke away and took long, slow drags from her cigarette…
…the tip glowing just as Shirlie’s cheeks were now.
Maybe she should have turned down the invitation. What if she ended up embarrassing herself? What if Esme realized her secret?
Shirlie’s focus returned on choosing her outfit, just to get those thoughts out of her mind.
*** “So, how was the filet?” Esme asked.
“It was really good,” Shirlie replied, smiling. “You have good choice in marinades.”
“Thanks. But I learned that from my aunt. The one who owns the restaurant downtown.”
Shirlie had never been there, for fairly obvious reasons. The Chez Donkee was one of the city’s most extravagant restaurants, and said to be excellent in quality and service. But being run by donkey-girls meant that it was a place that allowed smokers inside, and thus Shirlie’s family would have never wanted to visit even if it was the kind of place they’d eat at.
When her attention returned to Esme, the donkey-girl was lighting a cigarette. “How about we return to the den?” she asked, smoke wafting from her lips with each word.
“Um, sure!” Shirlie replied.
When they sat on the couch, Esme let out a deep puff. Shirlie sniffed the scent; she didn’t mind smoke, but it wasn’t the greatest fragrance ever. Though Esme had told Shirlie that the donkey-folk enjoyed much finer cigarettes than what humans and other monster-girls typically smoked. What about that cow-girl who’d helped Esme move in, the smoker?
“Something on your mind, Shirlie?”
“Nothing!” the sheep-girl quickly bleated. “I mean, just thinking about things.”
“Like the past?”
Shirlie almost managed to deny it, but Esme started taking a drag, and she had to force herself not to look fascinated.
A few moments later, as her exhale dissipated, Esme said, “Say, Shirlie, back when we dated, did you ever think about asking me for a cigarette?”
“Like…to smoke?”
“No, to use as a bookmark.” Esme rolled her eyes with a smile before taking a quick puff. “You weren’t ever interested in trying?”
“I…” Shirlie bowed her head. “Well, it’s an unhealthy habit, and I figured…” “Hanging out with a smoker wouldn’t be good for you, huh?”
Shirlie didn’t have a reply for that. “Once or twice, to be honest. But I didn’t want to start a habit.”
“And you didn’t mind me smoking?” “Not really, no…”
She looked back up to Esme, just as she blew a thick cloud of smoke into the sunlight, the grey-blue wisps dancing before the windows.
Esme glanced back in her direction before Shirlie could look away, and the sheep- girl spotted an odd smile creeping over the donkey-girl’s face. “What?” she asked, her face preemptively turning red.
Snickering, Esme said, “Nothing, Shirlie.”
Before Shirlie could say anything, Esme slowly brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a long, slow drag before exhaling the smoke in the same fashion. She leaned back against the armrest of her couch, taking another puff, letting the smoke out smoothly.
It dawned on Shirlie.
Not a word passed between the two until Esme finished her cigarette, ashing it in the tray next to her. “So, did you enjoy dinner?” she asked afterwards.
Shirlie could only nod. Her face was still glowing, like the tip of a cigarette.
“Well, you look like you’re still pretty hungry. Shall you be heading on home? Or staying for dessert?”
That last part of Esme’s words took on a distinctly husky tone, sending a twinge through Shirlie’s core — and a specific part of her anatomy. “Thanks for the offer,” she said, rising from the couch, “but I do have to get going. Thanks for dinner, too!”
“Then we’ll have to get together some other time,” Esme replied. They hadn’t even reached the door before Esme lit herself another cigarette. “See you again, Shirlie.”
“See you,” Shirlie said, watching as Esme took a tiny little puff.
Then Esme pecked her upon the lips, her smoke drifting into Shirlie’s nostrils. Judging from Esme’s smirk, Shirlie’s cheeks must have been glowing.
***
That evening, Shirlie fretted. The worst that could have happened was Esme thinking she was a weirdo for having a smoking kink. Yet Esme had seemed…quite the opposite, actually. She’d put on a display for Shirlie, a show.
Of course Esme wouldn’t be judgemental, being a donkey-girl. Smoking fetishes were probably common among her people. Maybe she pictured Shirlie smoking with her, maybe even got a rise out of the thought of getting the sheep-girl to start smoking.
Now Shirlie pictured such, imagined sharing cigarettes in secret with Esme. Imagined watching Esme, imagined smoking in the same seductive fashion as Esme had.
That night, when Shirlie went to bed, she still thought about such things. She imagined Esme over her, taking long drags and exhaling the smoke over Shirlie. The smoke smelled better in her imagination, of course. The scantily-clad donkey-
girl smiled as she brought the cigarette to Shirlie’s lips, letting her take a puff, letting her blow her smoke back at Esme with a giggle…
Such thoughts danced through her head like cigarette smoke through the air, and Shirlie succumbed to the temptation. Her night came to a climactic end, gasping as her fantasies came to fruition, sighing in her afterglow.
Her last drowsy thoughts for the day was a curiosity about that whole stereotype of having a cigarette after sex.
Part 3
The next morning, Shirlie couldn’t quite believe what she’d done the day before. Letting Esme figure out her kink, and even worse, masturbating to the thought of Esme smoking…
She’d woken a bit later than usual, and when she peeked out her bedroom window, she caught a glimpse of Esme lounging in her backyard. Of course the donkey-girl was smoking; Shirlie watched her take a few puffs before slipping away, praying Esme wouldn’t have noticed.
Esme had put on a display for Shirlie, the sheep-girl knew. How much further would she go? Dressing in something revealing, sitting in Shirlie’s lap as she smoked? Stripping in-between slow, sensual drags? Lighting up during foreplay, taking puffs before expecting Shirlie to do the same?
That’d been part of the fantasy too, hadn’t it. It hadn’t been just Esme smoking. The thought of taking pulls on Esme’s cigarette, of her blowing out the smoke just as prettily as Esme could…
What was it like, after all? There must have been something enjoyable about it, with how many people smoked. It was an addiction, sure, but why had they started? Why had they kept smoking? What was it that drove Esme to light a new cigarette, often mere minutes after her last?
Esme’s query from yesterday, about whether Shirlie had ever been curious, rang in Shirlie’s mind. If she was curious now, Esme would be willing to humor that curiosity.
But what if Esme really wanted to see that?
What if she made herself look weird by asking for a puff, or coughing after trying it? Would that turn Esme off?
And after saying all she’d said about smoking, wouldn’t it seem hypocritical to start herself? Especially now that Esme knew she was turned on by watching girls smoke? By the thought of her herself smoking?
The last thing she wanted was for Esme to know what she was thinking now. That she was actually contemplating it.
After an hour of pacing around the hour, Shirlie came to a conclusion. Thankfully, she didn’t run into Esme as she got in her car and drove off.
***
Shirlie made sure to visit a gas station on the other side of town, far from where she usually went for shopping or commuting. Sheep-girls were rare in the city, but she imagined at least one other stopped in for such purchases.
After all, she thought as she returned home, one model she’d watched in smoking vids was a sheep-girl, with long curly hair and a generous bosom for a sheep-girl. Shirlie didn’t remember the name, but vividly remembered videos of the sheep-girl enjoying cigarettes by the beach, while sitting in outdoor chairs, while lounging on the couch, or lying half-naked in bed…
Only once she got upstairs to her bedroom, closing the inner curtains to make sure no one would see in, did Shirlie remove the conspicuous package from the pocket of her blouse.
A pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Her plan was simple: to simply try. If she liked it, then she’d let herself smoke every once in a while. If she didn’t…then she deserved the money to go to waste.
Actually putting the cigarette between her lips…that was daunting. Shirlie held it like a smoker would, between her first two fingers, raising it to her lips and squeezing the filter between them.
She took the lighter with her shaky hands. It was like she’d instantly become a nicotine addict, that she’d have to keep smoking if she took even one puff.
That was all she needed for now. One puff.
Her fingers needed a few tries, but finally she produced a flame. She brought it to the tip of the cigarette, watching it take light.
Then she sucked on the filter.
To her surprise, the taste wasn’t actually bad. Smoke filled her mouth — enough to prompt her to cough, though more out of surprise. If she hadn’t held the cigarette, it would have left a mark on her bedroom carpet.
She sniffed the smoky air. Definitely not as fragrant as Esme’s cigarettes, but she still didn’t mind. Shirlie tried another puff, this time expecting the smoke in her mouth. She exhaled, figuring she’d done alright for a second attempt.
But she needed to truly inhale, didn’t she?
Putting her cigarette to her lips for a third time, she took a smaller puff, but let the smoke drift down into her lungs. The sensation was like a heat filling her, a not- entirely-pleasant feeling, but not as harsh as she’d expected.
Removing the cigarette from her lips, Shirlie blew out the smoke from between pursed lips. Already she felt…relaxed? Like a deep-breathing exercise, but faster. It wasn’t so bad, was it? And as long as she only took small drags, Shirlie didn’t have any trouble with it.
She smoked half the cigarette, using an empty pop can as her ashtray. Feeling a little weird, she knocked off the ash and let it rest smoldering atop the can. The scent of smoke continued to fill her bedroom, but the cigarette soon went out on its own.
Maybe it was monster-girl physiology that made smoking less rough on her. She’d heard that donkey-girls had essentially adapted to what heavy smokers their parents and grandparents had been, which probably explained why so many of them chain-smoked but didn’t look all that bad for it.
It didn’t mean that Shirlie was going to make it a habit. Or let Esme know about it yet.
When she returned to her bedroom at night, the cigarette still remained balanced atop the can. Shrugging to herself, Shirlie asked herself what the harm would be of finishing it before bed.
Her first puff caught her by surprise, and she did cough a bit. But the second went much smoother, and she was soon blowing out each drag, slowly, like she remembered from those videos she watched.
What if she was one of those smoking models? She laid back on her bed, picturing herself in some revealing outfit. Or maybe no outfit at all. Maybe she was just a naked sheepy, puffing away atop her sheets.
Maybe the video was of her and Esme, framing their shoot as Shirlie’s first cigarette. Esme bared her entire body as she took long deep pulls, while Shirlie continued her small puffs.
What if it was about Esme rewarding her pet for becoming a smoker? Teasing her, gently blowing smoke over her face, touching her down there…
Though Shirlie didn’t realize it, she’d begun to take longer and longer puffs, little by little. Her free hand danced between her legs, pretending it was Esme’s touch, that the two of them were blowing smoke playfully at the other, kissing in-between drags, touching each other…
Shirlie finished her cigarette before finishing her fun, but continued nonetheless, imagining that Esme was having her take puffs from Esme’s cigarette. Somehow that seemed so arousing, like her girlfriend was making her become a sexy smoker herself.
It wasn’t like after that thought that release came, her innermost self feeling as if it was the tip of a cigarette, glowing brightly as someone took a long pull from it.
Though she still wondered about the smoking-after-sex thing, Shirlie was too tired — and didn’t want to make a habit of what she was doing.
Tucking herself in, she drifted off to slumber, the scent of smoke still lingering in her bedroom.
Part 4
When Shirlie woke the next morning, her first thought was to have another cigarette. Something about smoking…maybe it was the bad-girl attitude Esme had always touted, but it felt so naughty and mischievous. As much as she didn’t want to make a habit out of it, she lit herself a cigarette, taking small puffs as she made her way downstairs.
She didn’t have an ashtray, so she picked out an old plain cup she never used anymore to serve as such. Shirlie smoked half the cigarette as she made herself pancakes, then extinguished the cigarette before eating. Once she’d finished breakfast, she finished her cigarette.
Returning to her bedroom, she glanced outside, spotting Esme having a smoke. What would Esme think to learn Shirlie had taken up the habit? Would she tease Shirlie about it, especially since she knew how fascinated Shirlie was to watch Esme smoke? Maybe…maybe they could hook up, now that smoking wasn’t a barrier between them.
Shirlie instinctively shook her head, telling herself she couldn’t make a habit out of smoking. Yet part of her thought of her fantasies, her desires. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live them out?
She sighed, then put her cigarettes away in her dresser. Maybe once in a while, but Shirlie decided she couldn’t let herself get addicted. Did she really want to be a chain-smoker like Esme?
***
A knock on her door just after noon made Shirlie hop on her couch. It wasn’t as if any hint of cigarette smoke remained by this time, yet she still worried whoever was at the door might find out somehow. Still, she couldn’t ignore a guest…
As it just so happened, the woman at her door let out a deep cloud of smoke just as Shirlie opened the door. The sheep-girl inhaled the smoke, which somehow smelled more pleasant than she’d remembered. Maybe the second-hand smoke was sating her nicotine craving. “Hey, Esme…”
The donkey-girl took another slow, playful puff before answering. “Shirlie, how are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m…fine.” Should she confess? Even now, it was obvious Esme was teasing her with the way she smoked her cigarette. “Did you…want to come in?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind my company. And the smoke.”
“Not at all!” Esme smirked, and followed Shirlie into the living room. She sat down on the couch, with Esme following suit, the donkey-girl glancing into the cup —
— the cup Shirlie had left on the coffee table.
The one that she’d used as an ashtray.
And given the look Esme had on her face, Shirlie’s must have been red as a beet.
“So,” Esme asked, taking a slow drag, “when did you start? Or have you been smoking all this time, and just didn’t want your new neighbour to know?”
Sighing, Shirlie said, “It was…just last night. I was curious, okay? I just wanted to try —”
“Did you like it?”
Shirle couldn’t bring herself to answer.
Snickering, Esme said, “When was your last smoke?” “This morning.”
Esme took another cigarette out of her pocket, extending it towards Shirlie. Though Shirlie wanted to turn it down, the cross between the pleasant fragrance of Esme’s cigarette and the stirring in her lower parts tempted Shirlie into taking the cigarette in her first two fingers.
She held it to her lips as Esme lit it, taking a puff and exhaling. Esme’s cigarettes were definitely better than the ones she’d bought — smoother, a better flavour.
After a few drags, she looked to Esme. The donkey-girl had loomed closer, and when the sheep-girl turned her attention to Esme, Esme responded by gently blowing smoke over Shirlie’s face.
It was…
“Esme,” asked Shirlie, “do you…are you turned on by me smoking?”
“A cute, innocent little sheepie like you being tempted into smoking by a naughty donkey-girl like myself?” asked Esme, leaning forward to blow more smoke into Shirlie’s face. “Whatever do you mean?”
When Esme put it like that… “Well,” Shirlie said, “why don’t you show me how naughty a donkey-girl you really are?”
Esme’s smile grew, and as she took a last drag from her cigarette, she crawled onto Shirlie’s body, locking her lips to the sheep-girl’s to exhale her smoke into Shirlie’s mouth and lungs. A smoke-filled kiss…it was just as hot as Shirlie had imagined…
With smoke wafting from her lips, Esme whispered, “We’ve waited a long enough time for this, haven’t we?”
All Shirlie could do was nod, then take a puff and give Esme a smoky kiss in turn. ***
Tucked beneath the sheets, Shirlie glanced over to Esme with a longing stare as the donkey-girl lit another cigarette. She’d smoked almost constantly during the past hour, while Shirlie had only one more cigarette.
Esme answered her look, and after taking a puff, handed her lit cigarette over to Shirlie. The smoke filling her lungs, billowing from her lips in a silvery stream into the sunlight, the nicotine hit soon bringing its soothing feeling…
The stereotype was true, wasn’t it? Smoking after sex was nice.
Lighting another cigarette, Esme leaned over. “Just so we’re making sure,” she said softly, “you don’t have to smoke with me. I don’t mind if you quit, even. As much as I love stroking myself to you on my lap, smoking like a porn-star…I think fucking you vanilla-style would be perfectly fine for me.”
Taking a drag, Shirlie said, “I doubt I’m going to smoke anywhere near as much as you. But I actually do enjoy it, even if I save it for…well, intimate time.” She probably wouldn’t, though; maybe it’d take her time to be brave enough to smoke in public, but she didn’t mind the habit.
As she took another drag, she heard the ruffling of sheets, the sound of skin against skin. Smiling, Shirlie lowered the blanket off of her chest, letting Esme have that much more to masturbate to while she enjoyed her cigarette.
To think that it was smoking that split them apart so long ago, and smoking that finally brought them together in bed, Shirlie mused with a giggle.