Readers: This is a continuation of Chapter 1, so it might help if you read that one first. Your feedback inspires me, so please rate 5 if you really like this -- my goal is to get into the Hall of Fame for the first time. Thank you for all the encouragement!
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The first ray of dawn slipped through the crack in the heavy curtains, casting a gossamer thread of golden light across the room. It danced over the crumpled, silken sheets and the discarded clothes strewn haphazardly across the honey oak wooden floor. The room itself was a symphony of muted tones; modern furniture, pale cream paint, and the ivory rug that added a touch of softness underfoot.
Karen Reed laid in the heart of this tableau of tranquility lay a woman, her blonde hair splayed across the plush pillow in a wild, untamed cascade. Her body was curled up in the sheets, the soft fabric caressing her bare skin. The evidence of last night's passion was etched across her body; tiny love bites hidden in the curve of her neck; her lips still swollen from the fervor of their kisses.
The early morning rays of the sun gently filtered through the sheer, gauzy curtains, bathing the room in an ethereal, soft glow. The room was a tableau of unmade sheets, strewn clothes, and the intoxicating scent of a night well spent. The scent was an amalgam of her citrusy perfume mingling with his earthy musk, a hint of the expensive wine they'd shared, and the faint but unmistakable aroma of sex.
Karen lay sprawled across the bed, a soft, satisfied smile curving her lips as she slowly blinked open her sleep-heavy eyes. Her chestnut hair splayed out in wild tendrils against the stark white of the pillowcase, her skin still flushed from the passionate dance they had shared last night. She stretched languidly, her body tingling with the delicious afterglow, an echo of the pleasure that had coursed through her veins a few hours ago. She glanced at the other side of the bed, expecting to find Dan's rumpled form, but found it empty. The sight was a stark contrast to the warmth and entanglement of limbs that had been their reality last night. For a moment, a pang of disappointment tugged at her heart, but then her eyes fell on a small piece of paper resting on the nightstand.
It was a simple white notecard, folded in half. Lena reached over, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the paper. With a curiosity-laced anticipation, she opened it. The note was written in rushed but neat handwriting, the ink of the blue pen fresh against the white backdrop.
"Good morning, beautiful," it read. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful, so utterly breathtaking. I wanted to etch that image in my memory forever. Last night was... well, words fail me. I hope to see you again soon. Until then, keep this night as a memento of our shared passion. - J"
A soft chuckle escaped her, warmth spreading through her at his words. She fingered the note, tracing the loops and lines of his handwriting, tangible proof of the incredible night they had shared. She felt a sweet sadness, a longing mixed with satisfaction. Her mind raced back to the start of the evening and the thought brought back the taste in her mouth of her first cigarette. Did I really start our evening smoking and sucking him off, she wondered.
She vividly recalled him talking about his interest in seeing women smoke during sex and her intrigue at the idea, both from the concept of fulfilling his fantasy but also finding herself intrigued by the feeling of power and influence. My God, she thought, I actually enjoyed it, even though it tasted like shit. She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, completing her business, and stopping to brush her teeth. As she scrubbed the nicotine and tar taste from her mouth, she still couldn't believe she actually smoked and even started to inhale her first cigarette.
Karen threw on a fluffy white robe and walked into the kitchen, a testament to modern design, all sleek lines, polished surfaces, and state-of-the-art appliances. The walls were a pristine white, the sort that was almost blinding in its purity, contrasting sharply with the gleaming black marble countertops. A large island sat in the middle of the room, its surface unmarred by a single scratch or stain. The cabinets, a blend of cool steel and warm oak, were meticulously organized, a place for everything and everything in its place.
Karen moved with fluid grace, her bare feet silent against the cool tile floor as she opened a cabinet, pulled out a Starbucks pod, placed it in the black Keurig, and hit the button. She placed her usual coffee cup under the dispenser, then walked into the living room to part her curtains. Glancing down the couch and coffee table, she saw they had left their wine glasses from the previous night. She moved to retrieve them, and her eye caught the box of Capri cigarettes and lighter on the couch. She paused.
Tentatively reaching down, Karen picked the pack up and studied it, her hazel eyes scanning the small print on the back. There were warnings, of course, bold and unapologetic in their declaration. She read them, the words seeping into her consciousness, but they seemed distant, abstract, like a problem for a future version of herself.
She ran her thumb over the box top opening and suddenly popped it back. The sound of the pack opening was almost anti-climactic, a soft, barely-there whisper of cardboard against cardboard. Ava opened it, revealing a neat row of cigarettes except for one opening, all lined up like soldiers standing at attention. There was a certain uniformity to them, an industrial precision that was oddly comforting.
Karen picked one up, her fingers closing around the slim cylinder. It was lighter than she expected, almost weightless in her hand. She brought it up to her face, her eyes studying the detail. The paper was smooth, almost silky to the touch, the end tightly packed with finely chopped tobacco. She sniffed it, the scent was earthy and slightly sweet. It was a strange aroma, one that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. It reminded her of autumn leaves, of wood smoke, of a time when she was young, and the world seemed a simpler place.
Karen placed the cigarette between her lips, feeling the slightly rough texture against her skin. She didn't light it, not yet, but just the act of placing it there, of mimicking the action, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She could almost taste it, the bitter tang of the smoke, the heat of the burning end, the comforting warmth spreading through her chest.
She looked at the pack again, at the neat row of cigarettes, all waiting for their turn. She closed the pack, the cardboard whispering against itself, and placed it back on the table. Her mind was filled with a strange, almost giddy sense of excitement, a feeling of stepping into the unknown, of exploring new, forbidden territory. She looked at the pack again, at the neat row of cigarettes, all waiting for their turn. She closed the pack, the cardboard whispering against itself, and placed it back on the counter. Her mind was filled with a strange, almost giddy sense of excitement, a feeling of stepping into the unknown, of exploring new, forbidden territory.
Karen picked up the lighter that lay next to the pack, its metal surface cool against her skin. She flicked it, the flame springing to life with a soft hiss. She held it up to the cigarette, watching as the flame danced closer and closer. And then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she touched the flame to the end of the cigarette. The paper caught, the flame burning brightly for a moment before settling down into a steady, glowing ember. She inhaled tentatively, the smoke just barely filling her lungs, the heat spreading through her chest. And as she exhaled, watching the smoke curl and twist in the air, she knew that she glimpsed the vision Dan had, better understanding his desire.
She stared at the cylinder between her two well-manicured fingers, feeling a bizarre kinship and comfort to the motion. She raised the cigarette to her lips again, cheeks hollowing to cause the end to glow cherry red, and drew more smoke into her lungs. The taste was exactly as she remembered, a blend of bitterness and an underlying sweetness. She held the smoke in for a moment before exhaling, the gray plumes twisting and turning in the air.
Karen sat on the couch, stretching out one leg along the length of the seat, partially reclining, as she continued to stare at the cigarette, its smoke wafting lazily in the morning sunlight. She found herself moving her smoking hand into various positions, thinking about which appeared more sexy or appealing. As her hand rested on her thigh, she thought back to Dan's arousal and how much her smoking turned him on.
She watched the smoke curl upwards from the cigarette's tip, noticing the length of the ash. She clumsily tapped it out into a crystal bowl on the table, realizing her decorative bowl was certainly not meant for such use. I'll have to work on that technique, she thought, raising the filter to her lips, and taking another, deeper drag. This time, she allowed the smoke to fill her lungs more, and she found herself better able to resist the coughing urge. Pursing her lips, she executed a smooth exhale, thrusting a cone of gray smoke into the air.