Part 1 – The Assessment
Tom had been sitting in the waiting area for well past two hours now, and found himself constantly clockwatching, however, knew his turn was soon as the number on the board directly opposite him now read 34. Tom was number 32, and when he arrived the board was at 14. He knew his time was soon.
Tom had been in Amsterdam for only two days before he visited The Fetish Clinic. He was there for business for three months, which also allowed for extended weekends so it allowed him plenty of spare time. He figured that he may as well try to satisfy his fetish once and for all, as he was now in his early thirties; and despite one of his long-term ex-girlfriends and his ex-wife both being smokers, he still hadn’t had it catered to, and had to rely mainly on online material until this point. It wasn’t ideal for him, but he coped. He separated from his wife over two years prior to him sitting in the waiting room at the clinic, and since the split found his fetish growing stronger. He came across the clinic when searching the internet a long time before, and remembering this when he learnt of his assignment to Amsterdam, he promptly booked himself in. When filling out the form on the website, there were no specific criteria that he (or other clients) could fill in. Only their required date, and the maximum amount they were willing to pay per session. Everything else, as the website said, would be determined on the day of arrival; they couldn’t even list their preferred type of woman or their fetish. This was deemed as “an unnecessary part of the initial process”.
“33”, he heard from the monotonous tannoy. “Not long now”, he thought as he looked at the names engraved on the doors of the rooms of the consultants. There were eight in total. Katrina, Stefanni, Denise, Martina, Joanna and Eleanor. He didn’t even want to start to try and pronounce their surnames. The only one he could pronounce was the surname of Anja. De Boer it was, and the only reason he could pronounce that is because of his fondness of football and his memories of the famous Dutch footballing brothers Ronald and Frank de Boer. Then there was a slightly misplaced name engraved on one of the doors. “Jayne Cooper” it read. Given the location and the names of the other girls, this was somewhat of a surprise to Tom.
Knowing that his time was getting closer, Tom took another close look around the room. He was now the first in line for the next appointment, and there was a developing queue forming that sat at ten. A couple of seats to the left of him was an old guy who was quite large to say the least and further down the line there was an heavy metal fan who appeared to have his whole face pierced or tatood. Although Tom had tattoos on both of his arms, each of which was of significant size, with his dress, age, size (he was slightly chubby – but by no means overweight or obese) and general demeanour, one could say he was significantly more normal than the rest of the clientèle seemingly were. One of the slightly less strange signs in the whole waiting room, much to his bemusement, was a “No Smoking” sign. As was sitting there waiting for another ten minutes, he noticed that one of the room’s door’s opened, and out come a stunning brunette. She was roughly six foot tall, had shiny and wavey brown hair, piercing blue eyes and was wearing what only could be described as a dress-to-kill business woman outfit, with rather standard three-inch heels. Eleanor it appeared to be. It looked as though she was walking towards the rear exit of the building that was labelled “Staff Only”. Roughly five meters before she reached the door, her arm reached for her shirt pocket and she drew out a cigarette and placed it between her perfectly-formed pouting lips unlit before exiting the building, for what looked like a quick smoke break. Tom couldn’t believe his eyes. He was very much a brunette type of man, and he knew that a meeting with Eleanor was imminent as soon as she finished her break.
Only 30 seconds after that door slammed behind Eleanor, “34” was bellowed from the broadcast. Tom was disappointed, as he thought his dream woman was going to be the one who screened him and satisfied his fetish needs. A door creaked open, and out come a petite blonde lady. “Number thirty-four”, she said in a posh English accent. Tom looked around, and saw this woman, and as he expected, “Jayne Cooper” was the sign that appeared above her slight figure. He wasn’t a big fan of blondes. Certainly, he found them attractive, but if he had to pay for his fantasy to be fulfilled, he would certainly choose a brunette over a blonde, and given what he had just seen in Eleanor, he was a little disappointed with what was now on offer. Tom stood up and made his approached towards Jayne, and as he did, she offered him a warm smile and said, “come on in”.
“Tom right?”, she said as she sat down and approached her chair to sit down. “Yes ma’am”, he replied. “Well Tom, as you can see from my name tag, I’m Jayne. If you can hang your coat up and sit down on the spare chair when you’re ready, then we can begin”. He walked over the rack of hangers, and placed his coat nervously on one of the hooks, then turned around and made his approach to the seat opposite Jayne. As he was walking towards the chair, he noticed a sign, much like in the waiting area, “No Smoking”. Things didn’t look good for him, so it seemed.
As Tom sat down, Jayne was sieving through the paperwork that had been presented to her for Tom’s appointment. As she was doing this, he was observing her closely. She was wearing a white blouse, almost like that you’d see in a clinical profession, which was buttoned to insufficiently cover up her large but firm breasts, but so not much that enough was left to the imagination. Her lips shone in a subtle red, and her hair was tied back loosely in a casual-cum-professional manner. Also, he could see from the way she was sitting that she was wearing a mid-cut black skirt, with black stockings. He could also smell a sweet scent from across the table. Chanel, although he wasn’t quite sure which flavour. She also had very pouty lips, which seemed destined to have a cigarette placed in-between them. Despite Tom’s initial thoughts, he was soon realising that Jayne was a very attractive woman with a great sense of style and a subtle elegance about her, all qualities that he revelled.
“So Tom, we’ll get the small-talk out the way first, shall we?”, she said assertively whilst browsing up at him above the papers. “Firstly, I’d like to know your age and where you’re from.” “I’m 31 and from Manchester.” “So, a northern boy I see?”, she replied in her more sophisticated accent. “For my sins, yes”, he replied with a smile on his face. “It’s okay, I like you lot, you’re a lot more friendly than most southerners I know”. Tom took this as a compliment, and agreed, but pointed out that southerners weren’t bad themselves either. “Secondly, can I ask how long are you in Amsterdam for? This is so I can get an idea of how many sessions we can arrange or fit in if need be”. “I’m here for three months give or take”, he said whilst undoing the top button of his shirt that had been annoying him for quite some time now. “Lucky you”, she said, “business or pleasure?”. “A bit of both really, I’m here on business but I’ve got enough time off to fit in a bit of time for myself”. “Not bad”, she said, leaning back on her chair and putting her legs up on the table. She was wearing shiny black high heels which must have been 5-inches, which was possibly the least conventional thing she was wearing in her whole outfit, and gave her petite figure a boost.
“We best get to the real stuff then”, she exclaimed. Tom was visibly starting to become a little bit more nervous. “Why are you here today?” “Well”, he gulped, “I have a fetish”. She looked up at him, knowing very well that he had stated the obvious. “And?”, she questioned. “I like to watch women smoke”. Jayne readjusted her self and sat back in the position she was before. She had never heard of this before. In fact, she had only been working in the industry for a few months, so was fairly new to the fetish industry herself and was only doing it to pay for her university fees. “Okay”, she muffled, quite baffled by this, “and what is it that you find so alluring about this?” “It’s hard to say really”, he reluctantly muttered after a long pause. “I just think it’s a pleasure to watch. The lighting, the exhaling, the empowerment, things like that”. He knew he could have answered this question better, he just didn’t know how to. “Interesting”, was the next word to come out of Jayne’s mouth.
“Well, Tom, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t smoke. I never have, and I never will entertain the idea”. Tom was upset, but, his thoughts began to divert back to Eleanor. “Besides, I’m currently studying Chemistry and Biology for my PhD, and I know what that shit can do to your body, it isn’t nice”. Tom appreciated what Jayne was saying, but it wasn’t helping his situation. “How many do you smoke a day, out of interest?”, she asked curiously. “None”, he replied. She looked confused, and sharply responded, “I think our meeting is almost over here Tom. I’m sorry. I think your fetish is disgusting, and I also find it somewhat disturbing, especially because you don’t smoke yourself”, almost angrily. “I know a couple of girls who do smoke here though, so I’ll give them a call and see if they can help you with your fantasy. I think Eleanor is free, I’ll give her a call”. Tom felt ridiculed due to what Jayne had just said, but he was relishing the prospect of having his dreams fulfilled by Eleanor. Every cloud has a silver lining, he thought to himself. Jayne picked up the phone, and began to dial Eleanor’s extension. The phone line began to ring. After twenty-or-so seconds, there was still no answer. She put the phone down. “Okay, Tom. I can’t get through right now, but if you go back in the waiting area, I’ll pop in to Eleanor’s office and get her to see to you when she’s free again to save you going to the back of the queue”.
He promptly stood up and began to make his way to the door, and picked his coat off the hook as he made his approach. He had to walk another ten or so meters before he reached the door. Whilst he was doing this, Jayne was pondering. Being a non-smoker, she could not understand this fetish at all, but when she said she’d never entertained the idea of smoking, she wasn’t being completely truthful. When she was in college, she smoked one cigarette after having a few drinks and didn’t find it pleasant or unpleasant at the time. She had also considered trying it a couple of times again since, however, she had always been too sidetracked to try, and also due to her full-time profession as a chemist who was also studying for a PhD for the next stage of her career, she knew exactly what the effects of smoking were. On the other side of the equation, she was now 28 and most of her friends had tried smoking at various stages of their teens or twenties, some being full-time smokers and others only casual. Maybe she should try? Besides, Jayne knew from the online form exactly how much Tom was willing to pay for each session. 2000 Euros. This is money that she could do with. Afterall, she usually only charged between 300 and 500 Euros per session, and this was good money and could wipe off her university debt in no time. Irrespective of this, she also found Tom oddly cute, which helped her justify her new thought process in her own way. The only thing that was deterring her was the inherent dangers that she was more than aware of involved in smoking, and its addictive properties. But given the short time frame she would be expected to smoke, she convinced herself that the chance of getting addicted were slim, and also the negative health aspects would also be minimal. She even thought even if she did start to become addicted in this time, she would be able to quit again easily. By the time she had collected her thoughts, Tom had already left the room. She got up, and made her way towards the waiting room. When the door opened, Tom looked up and saw Jayne. Brilliant, he thought, she is going to speak to Eleanor. Instead, Jayne approached Tom, and leant towards him, and whispered, “can you come back in to my office, I have a surprise for you”.
Tom wondered whether Eleanor was waiting in Jayne’s office for him. A wry grin began to appear on his face.
Jayne led the way back in to her office, with Tom trailing in her wake. Once they entered, Tom was a little surprised not to see Eleanor in their like initially anticipated, which naturally made him wonder what his surprise actually was.
“Sit down northern boy”, she said in an authoritative but playful manner. Before she sat down on her chair, she walked over to the window of her office that was overlooking one of Amsterdam’s busy high streets, and closed the blinds. “I’ve had a think, and I’ve changed my mind. I will explore your fetish with you”. Tom was taken aback. Astonished.
“But firstly, I want to know to know a few more specifics”. “What like?”, Tom enquired. “Well, there must be certain aspects of the fetish that you like more than others, types of cigarettes that you want me to smoke, style, things like that”, she replied in a casual way. By this time, she had picked up a nail-file and was filing her nails, awaiting to observe Tom’s response. “Where do I start really?”, Tom began, stratching the back of his head. “Well firstly, I prefer to see women smoking cork-filtered cigarettes. I’m really not sure why, I just always have. I’m not into this supposed allure of women smoking all-whites or slim cigarettes”. Tom was about to continue, but Jayne interrupted, “what brands then?”. “Well, I generally don’t mind any cork cigarette, but if I’m honest, I prefer the more stronger brands. You know, Marlboro Reds and brands like that, but my favourite has got to be Benson & Hedges superkings”. Although Jayne wasn’t a smoker and initially had her reservations about this assignment, and did find this hard to take in, she took this aboard and was okay with what was being said. Previously in the job, despite her limited experience, she had been requested to do much stranger things, and this was relatively normal compared to these. “Okay, so carry on…”, she said. “As far as style is concerned, I can say that I like a few things. I prefer it when a lighter is used over matches. I like to see cigarettes being smoked in a powerful manner, seeing double and triple-pumps. I also like to see the smoke being exhaled through the nose. I’m a fan of dangles too”, he said. “You know your fetish well Tom, I’ll give you that”, she said looking up at him, giving him a cheeky smile. “But I have one question, what is a double or triple-pump?” “Well, it’s where you take two or three drags of the cigarette before releasing it and exhaling the smoke”, he replied. “Got ya”.
“Okay, I think I know enough for now. Obviously I’ll have to try smoking first, otherwise I’m wasting both of our times”. “I assume that whether or not you knew you were going to get me today, that you bought some cigarettes for the whole experience?” “Yeah”, Tom said, holding up a posh-looking plastic bag. “Show me what you’ve got then”, she said. Tom opened the bag, and placed the packets on the table. There were 20 Marlboro Lights (the European kind), 80 Marlboro reds and 100 Benson & Hedges superkings. Jayne began to laugh. “Oh my god. You’re not expecting me to smoke all of those before our first proper session are you?” “Well no, but I didn’t expect I’d be meeting a non-smoker today”. She was still laughing. “It’s okay, I’m joking. I get it, I’ll start off on the lighter ones and work my way up”. “And how am I going to light these bad boys?”, she said inquisitively. Tom pulled out a zippo-styled lighter and handed it over to Jayne. “We’re done for now. Next Saturday, 1000. Now bugger off”.
Within seconds of those words being uttered, Tom got up and left the office for a second time, but this time leaving on a positive note. Jayne was left sitting there, staring purposefully and the unopened packs of cigarettes that were in front of her. It was time to begin.
Part 2 – The First Cigarette
Jayne continued to stare at the cigarette packs for a while. The shiny wrapping that they were enclosed in glistened due to the lighting in the room. After a few minutes of deliberating, she finally decided she was going to try. She knew she wasn’t meant to smoke in her office, and knew that it was fitted with a smoke detector. With this in mind, she stood up on the top of her desk and reached up to remove the battery from the smoke detector. She also went over to her door and placed a top that she wasn’t wearing between the gap at the bottom of the door to stop the smell of the smoke going elsewhere. Just before she went to sit back down, she ensured that the latch on the door was secured.
Once reseated, Jayne reached over and picked up the singular pack of Marlboro Lights, and began carefully unwrapping the cellophane. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and were painted with bright-red nail varnish. She placed the open wrapping on her desk, and then began to lift the top of the packet, eventually exposing the top of the prestinely-formed cork-tipped sticks. She placed her fingers in a pincer-like formation, and began to pull one of the cigarettes out of the packet. Once out, she placed the pleasure-stick horizontally below her nose and began to sniff. To Jayne, this was a strange smell. One that she didn’t find particularly nice, nor did she find it off-putting. After observing the scent for a good ten seconds, she then placed the cylinder-shaped object between her lips. It looked like it was meant to be, the sight looked divine. As the cigarette dangled from her lips, she reached over for the lighter on the table, picked it up, then clicked it open. Click. She began to bring the flame of the lighter towards the unlit tip of the cigarette. Almost there.
Jayne then heard a loud knock on her door. Oh shit, she thought, dropping the lighter and cigarette on the floor straight away. The door handle then started to go, but luckily the fact that she had locked it saved her. “Two seconds”, she bellowed. She picked the loose Light and the lighter up of the floor, and placed them in her pocket, and then scrambled to scoop up the rest of the contraband, and shoved it in a spare cupboard.
She unlocked and opened the door. It was her boss, Erika. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You look flustered”, Erika said. “No, no, I’m good”, Jayne replied. “Okay, you do realise that there’s a queue outside, don’t you?”, Erika continued. “Yes, I’m really sorry, I’m just not feeling too good”, Jayne convincingly lied to Erika. “Well, if you want, you can clock off for the rest of the day”, she reluctantly proclaimed. There was little over an hour left of the working day anyway. “If you wouldn’t mind”, Jayne smiled, knowing that the only thing she actually wanted to do is to try smoking for her new project. “Okay, then go”, Erika sympathetically echoed.
Jayne was back at her flat. Her job at the Clinic, despite not being her dream profession, at least allowed her to live in a modern flat in an in-fashion area of Amsterdam, all the while helping her pay for her student fees. It was just on the edges of the city centre, only a 10 minute walk from both her place of work on one side, and the university a 15 minute walk on the other. She was laying on the sofa, still in her work clothes. She kicked off her heels. Time to try again she thought to herself. She reached to the pocket that she had put the cigarette and lighter in before, with her near-miss with Erika, and pulled them out. Rather casually, as if she’d done it on a regular basis, she once again placed the cigarette inbetween her lips, fired up the lighter and brought it towards the cigarette. The lighter reached the tip, and the tobacco illuminated. Jayne sucked on the cigarette, taking a rather generous draw considering she had not even been near a cigarette for almost ten years. The tobacco crackled. Within seconds though, Jayne began to cough aggressively, causing her to prematurely exhale the smoke. She held the cigarette vertically and looked at it in a disgusted manner. She wasn’t impressed. Immediately thoughts began running in her head, thinking she would not be able to handle this assignment afterall. She paused for twenty seconds, before she began to attempt a second drag of the cigarette. This time, she was a little more conservative, taking a smaller drag. Once again, Jayne had a little fit of coughs, but not quite to the extent as before. Still, it was enough to deter her having another.
She got up, and got an ashtray out of her cupboard and placed it on the coffee-table that was next to her sofa. The reason why she had an ashtray is because she was used to having friends who were smokers at the flat, and didn’t mind them smoking inside, uncommon by the modern-day attitude. She placed the cigarette in the ashtray, still burning away. The smoke raised up and tickled Jayne’s nose. This sin-stick had just caused her to cough uncontrollably, but the smell to her was of a pleasant aroma. She picked up the cigarette again, and took another drag. This time, she didn’t begin to cough straight away. She inhaled a small amount of smoke, let it stay inside of her lungs for a short-while, then began to exhale. Half-way through the exhale though, she spurted and began to cough again. Maybe this really wasn’t for her? She thought. She was contemplating stubbing the cigarette out at this stage, but instead she once again placed it in the ashtray again. She left it in there for a while, whilst she thought how she would take her next drag, maybe she was doing it wrong? She seemed to have the inhaling part nailed, as she knew that some new-starters fell short at the inhaling stage, and therefore knew that this wasn’t the part that was wrong. She picked up the cigarette again, and took two quick but powerful drags, holding the smoke inside for five seconds, before exhaling in a hurried fashion. This time, she looked as though she was going to cough, but didn’t. This was a first.
By this time, the cigarette was almost two-thirds down, and Jayne’s head was beginning to rush a little, and she felt a little sick. One more drag, she thought, and she would call it quits for the day. She pulled on the cigarette for one last time, taking a drag that seemed to last forever. When exhaling, once again she began to cough sporadically, causing smoke to go everywhere. Not the start she wanted, she mulled, but despite the coughing, she did begin to enjoy the cigarette more as she went on. At this point the cigarette was still lit, and there was roughly fives millimetres of white still there. Maybe I can take one more drag? This was a rhetorical question, as she knew the answer. She placed the cigarette to the side of her mouth, and took another strong drag. She held the smoke inside her lungs as long as she could. Ten seconds. Then she exhaled, with huge relief, placing her hand over her chest whilst sighing. At least she didn’t cough this time. The cigarette was almost completely burnt down now, with less than one millimetre of white above the corked-filter. She stubbed the butt out in the ashtray, stood up and made her way towards her bedroom, switching the light of the lounge area off just before she opened the door. That was enough for today.
Story by nottoosure