Silk Cut. It definitely had a glamorous sound to it. “I smoke Silk Cut,” she whispered to herself. She opened the pack – it was almost full, with an orange plastic lighter in there along with 16 of the cigarettes. She breathed in the scent, wondering if ‘the redhead’ smoked the same brand. She took a cigarette from the pack, placing it between her fingertips. In the hallway, she caught sight of herself, barely recognisable from how she had looked on return from work. She walked slowly up the stairs, feeling her boobs and bum quiver, the cigarette poised between her fingers. In the bedroom mirror she posed and preened, vaguely aware that she was behaving like a teenage girl in her mother’s heels and makeup, although such behaviour was never considered by her as a girl, and she would never have found such frivolous items in mum’s wardrobe.
She sat on the chair at the dressing table with her legs crossed, and sipped her wine with the cigarette between her fingertips. She wondered what the others in the office would think of her like this; her heart started to pound when she realised she would be going out in the little dress very soon. She was actually terrified but excited at the thought.
She put the cigarette between her lips and just let it hang there for a minute. When she was confident it wasn’t going to fall out she loosened her lips slightly. It occurred to her that the lipstick helped with this, and applied another coat. She stood up and observed herself some more. She wasn’t blonde or beautiful but was definitely attractive, with pretty blue eyes and a button nose. She placed the filter in her mouth once again and understood how smoking drew attention to a woman, made her look available even.
She arranged a few items in the bedroom and plumped the pillows with her cigarette dangling, enjoying how it felt, imagining being a warm, sensual woman with a history featuring many lovers. Imagine how the ladies would feel about that!
Her heart started to flutter once again because she knew she was about to light and smoke her first cigarette ever, at the age of 37. She took out the lighter – a couple of clicks and she had a flame, which she tentatively held to the tip of the Silk Cut. It appeared to be lit so she sucked lightly, but when this failed to produce any smoke she applied the flame more deliberately, and this time when she sucked she was rewarded by the tip glowing orange, and her mouth filling with a small quantity of cool smoke. She opened her mouth to expel it with a little puff.
It wasn’t quite how she expected. She never liked to smell smoke when it was allowed in bars and restaurants, but it felt so cool and smooth in her mouth. She repeated the little suck, this time holding the smoke in her mouth a short while and letting it out more slowly, as she had observed a couple of the office girls doing. It didn’t, of course, clear her mouth completely using this method, so when she took a breath she inadvertently inhaled some causing her to cough instantly. Slow down, Laura. She let it hang from her lips again and leaned on her palms into the mirror, exposing her cleavage. The smoke stung her eyes and she plucked the cigarette from her mouth, giggling.
She remembered that she would be wearing the dress soon and didn’t want it to smell of smoke, so she stubbed out the the cigarette in a small dish in the bathroom – there was no ashtray in the house – and flushed it down the toilet. She unzipped and stepped out of the dress, putting it on a hanger in the wardrobe. She wasn’t finished with the underwear or heels, though. She felt very sexy and was ready to abandon herself to her arousal, although she knew guilt feelings would follow. She reached under the bed for the shoe box.
Laura knew exactly which magazine she needed to see, although she still didn’t know what a ‘gloryhole’ was, beyond once hearing an understair cupboard being called that. Maybe the hole on the cover was for looking through? Once again she looked into the eyes of the girl, but this time the name of her friend’s daughter was on her lips. “Millie.” She almost breathed the name, and she felt her cheeks blush as her fingers touched herself through the flimsy material of the knickers. She was alarmingly wet and swollen and she looked down, enjoying the definition of her labia beneath the leopard print fabric.
She lit another cigarette. This time she consciously inhaled a small quantity of the smoke and suppressed the urge to cough as she held it for a second, enjoying the visible stream in the light from the bedside lamp as she exhaled. She felt a buzz and stroked her breasts through the bra. She left the cigarette burning in the dish; the smoke curling up from the tip gave the tableau a wonderful, seedy atmosphere as she opened the cover of the magazine and learned at last what a gloryhole was.