Life Decisions Laura 4 Years Later

Life Decisions- 4 Years Later

This is a continuation of the Life Decisions Laura's Mother Comforts- both versions 1 and 2 should work as a flow of the plot. Found here

Life Decisions- Laura's Route 01 - Fetish - Literotica.com

and

Life Decisions- Laura's Route 02 - Fetish - Literotica.com

Time has moved on...

I have experimented with this story. There are several different versions of the ending! They would have been hyperlinked, but Literotica does not allow it.

Friday

It was just after nine-thirty on Friday night. Laura sat there on her old tatty, sagging but comfortable burgundy pleather sofa. Her bare sockless feet, the soles blacken from the unvacuumed floor that was strewn with dust and tonnes of cigarette ash. They were tucked up under her equally bare and now overly large buttocks trying to give them both some warmth. She could have gone up and got some socks. But that required more effort. She was wearing her now rather tightly fitted extra-large red and black Dennis the Menace nightie. The ex-boyfriend Adam had bought for her as a joke birthday present a few years ago, a few months before they split up. She kept it because it was now one of the few things that she owned that still just about fitted her.

There was an almost empty white wine bottle on the edge of the second-hand charity shop dark wood occasional table beside her. Beside the rather empty bottle was her particularly full ashtray alongside her 3/4 empty pack of Marlboro Lights. All contrasted with a now full large glass of wine was in her right hand, and a freshly lit cigarette between the fingers in her left. She was 'balanced,' that is how she saw it at those moments. Lungs and head were happy and relaxed in equal measures. The television on the other side of the room was turned on. She was not really watching the popular chat show, she had drunk far too much wine since leaving work and as was far too gone to concentrate on it. Laura was very much lost in her own inebriated rabbit warren of interconnected thoughts.

It had been a hard day at work. Laura had dealt with two of her most difficult customers today and she was just glad to be at home.

They had both called at just at the wrong time. The first one called regarding a big contract just as she was about to get up and leave the office for her morning ciggy break, which delayed it by forty long minutes. Laura struggles most days to get through the working week with her regulated two hourly ciggy breaks. This had meant she had got rather crotchety with her customer before they had agreed to talk again next week. The customer finally hung up and she could get out of the office and light her needed cigarette.

It didn't help that her offices smoking policy was a sole bench about 5 minutes' walk across the yard. It was surrounded by the reeking dirty bins and was the windiest place on site. It was not pleasant to sit there. But Laura and the others had to. She did choose to be a little cheeky, as to smoke her first cigarette of the break as she strolled across to the yard. It was pleasant looking up at the cloudless sky reflecting in the windows above. Everyone from the office windows could also look down and see who was walking across and when. It was seen by the non-smokers in the office as the smokers walk of shame.

As she had missed the morning cup of tea and ciggy break with her colleagues, it meant she was alone on the bench, with just her thoughts and her cigarette, wishing she had remembered to make a cup of tea that goes so nicely with her cigarettes.

The frustration of the awkward customer and her need for nicotine, she chained her next ciggy using the last embers of her first one.

Laura sat and smoked the cigarette enjoying the sunshine for a few minutes and time away from the computer screen. It was pleasant to hear birds tweeting in the background. The bench was next to the large red industrial skip bins, so wasn't the most pleasant of smoking areas. She sighed as she extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the grey breeze block wall beside the bench. It would not be long before people started looking for her in the office. Huffing she started the slow ponderous walk back to her office. Laura classed this as her exercise for the day. She had measured it a few times with those fitbits that are all the rage. She did between 2500 and 3000 steps a day, not quite the 10,000 but three times a day going down two flights of stairs and walking to the bench for her ciggy breaks. She wasn't really that fat, at least that is what she said to herself. Laura was comfortable with her size an average UK of a 16, however more recently had grown closer to an 18, but still bought size 16 clothes in hope that with a bit of exercise she could fit in them again one day. The only exercise she got was going into town and taking them back. It would be mentioned by a few of the office bitches behind her back that she was in no way slim. She was definitely now a large girl.

She had sat there and had another cigarette as ensure she was calm enough to face the barrage of emails created stepping out of the office for '5' minutes. She very much needed the second one. One was now never enough, and lunch and the pleasure of her next cigarette were a long stress filled hour and half away.

The other annoyingly timed customer called at ten to five, just as the office was packing up. Laura knew that if she left about 5 minutes early she could firstly have her cigarette sooner, and secondly, she could get ahead of the traffic. There was always a queue at the entrance to the dual carriageway just outside her office estate. It wasn't a long commute, but it was made considerably longer if she didn't escape 'on time'.

Her problem was that this customer was stateside, in Seattle, and so for them it was the just beginning of the morning. They had all day to chat and discuss their project. It was a difficult project with several vested interests all wanting different things. The only thing Laura wanted now was her 'going home' cigarette. They had called yesterday for her at five to five, but she had strategically been halfway out the door as her colleague yelled at her. She pretended she didn't hear, as the cigarette was removed from her bag as went down the stairs. As soon as she was outside it was lit. And she was gone.

The call had not started well as they had been disappointed with her not talking to them yesterday. Laura knew the sale was important, as was her rather nice commission on it. So, whilst her eyes practically burnt a hole in the cigarette pack, she went through the motions of being very apologetic to explaining that she would work on getting the corrections to the contract dealt with as soon as possible. She was being good and as polite as she could, whilst watching the clock on the office wall tick round. All she could think of was her cigarettes.

Her colleagues had all drifted out of the office as it was Friday night. Only her manager remained at the other end of the office.

In preparation for the end of the conversation, she had retrieved her cigarette pack from her large brown bag in the floor and had put them on the desk. "Just shortening the time required later on" Laura had said to herself whilst the customer wittered on about something inconsequential to project. The discussions with the customer went on and on, the cigarette filter just got pulled further and further out of the pack until it was balancing halfway out.

Laura's manager then walked past on the way to toilets, with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head at Laura toying with her cigarette in the pack. Laura looked to the ceiling and guiltily pushed it back in.

After much chatting and continually toying with the pack, spinning it in circles on the desk. Laura finally got the customer to agree to her way of thinking. With great relief the end of the call was achieved. Laura scooped up her bag and jacket put her cigarette in her mouth got the lighter from a denim jacket pocket and made for the door.

The cigarette was hurriedly lit and smoke inside her waiting lungs by the time the office front door closed shut behind her. As the very much needed nicotine hit her bloodstream, her tense shoulders relaxed and dropped. With the cigarette almost glued to her lips she made for her car taking as many deep drags her desperate lungs would take. She really needed that cigarette.

As she reached her little Corsa, with yet another desperate lung filling drag she exhaled the plume of grey smoke she dropped the almost finished cigarette on the floor stubbed it out with her light green Newlook flats. She double checked it was out and whilst looking down on the ground of the carpark she could see the remainder of this week's end of workday cigarette stubs. 'I must cut down,' Laura again thought to herself, it was a repetitive thought, especially if had not been windy. They she then mused looking at the mess, 'it might be easier to move car parking space'. She was genuinely embarrassed seeing the now at least 5 orange stubs on the ground by the driver's side door with a dozen more from the previous weeks windblown and still in the corner of 'her' parking space. The dozens of brown stained small filters were definitely all Laura's cigarette butts.

The Friday night commute home was as bad as predicted, but the traffic queue gave Laura time for four smoked cigarettes and all of her bottle of water whilst her the iPod shuffle played loudly cheesy 2000s music. She was a happy singing, dancing, and smoking with the window down. She had to take her usual detour on the way home via little Tesco's at the end of the road to get her weekend cigarettes and also importantly a couple bottles of wine.

Some of her friends and colleagues were going out on the town they had WhatsApped each other at lunchtime, but Laura had ummed and ahhed before she finally declined. Saying she was tired and just wanted a night in. A night alone with her thoughts, her Friday night wine and importantly her cigarettes.

Laura got home, opened her door, walked down the hallway past the living room to put the wine in the fridge, grabbed a cigarette from the kitchen table and lit it. Leaned against the sink and smoked. She used the time to check Facebook and Twitter on her phone. As usual recently no one had messaged her anything useful. She did not move until she had extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table and finally went upstairs. She went to her bedroom, let her mousey brown hair down from its ponytail, untied and climbed out of her green wrap-around work dress. She soon had her non-matching blue bra undone and dropped to the floor. She had to wiggle her hips and dig her thumbs into the tight elastic to get comfy poker dot granny style knickers off. They were slightly damp. She never quite got over the enjoyment of Adam wrapping his arms around her waist and his fingers hunting around her crotch for wet knickers. She would stand at the front door and still hope he would return.

After letting them fall to the floor, she then ungracefully attempted to kick the ball of clothes the small distance into the washing basket beside her wardrobe, leaving the bra and panties balanced the edge of the extremely full basket. 'Close' she thought to herself with a smile.

With a twist and a cough, she grabbed her next cigarette out of the pack on the bed side unit and lit her first 'It's the freaking weekend cigarette' and turned with her exhale and looked at herself side on in the full-size mirror on the wardrobe door. She could see her thighs covered in various bruises even one on her small Eeyore tattoo she got for a dare one drunken Sunday afternoon a few years back, Zoe had the matching Winnie the Pooh on her upper thigh. Most of the bruises came from bumping into the kitchen table and chairs when drunk, she presumed to herself. She could never really remember.

Looked in the mirror and frowned as she stroked her now rather large over hanging muffin top belly that acted like a spongy jiggling cantilevered building hovering high above her pubes. She was also annoyed with the equally full and annoying spare tire that unhelpfully sat above her hips. Both of which lipped over what was now a clear panty line, when and if she bothered to wear them. She 'had to' this past week. "That hadn't been there 3 years ago," she mused again to herself as she inhaled her cigarette and subsequently exhaled towards the mirror, the smoke bouncing off in every direction.

Her fat had always been there; just less of it. Laura had never been a slim girl. But in her defence, her stomach had nowhere near as big. Since moving out of home. She has not really done any activity, other than eat almost daily takeaways, drink gallons of wine, and smoke thousands upon thousands of cigarettes.

Whilst looking intently in the mirror she had then gently lifted her sagging large right breast and let go leaving it slap back down again against her skin. She sighed her nipples hardened after being played with. So, with a smile she tweaked her large now erect nipples. Her breasts were her best asset she reminded herself, on the very rare occasions when dressed in a certain way- low cut little black dress, her post push up bra, then she can still get the guys to stare with appreciation. She brought her cigarette back to her lips and inhaled and then did some well-practiced snap inhales and smoke rings into the mirror.

Laura balanced the cigarette in the ashtray and with a groan retrieved her Denis nightie, dumped on the bedstead in her slightly hungover rush this morning, and put it on. Laura salvaged the cigarette from the ashtray and inhaled yet again. She then flumped out on to the bed, exhaled the cone of smoke and watched till it hit the bedroom ceiling directly above her head and dissipated. She repeated the large inhale and exhale watching the last bit of smoke bounce off the ceiling. She grabbed her phone, coughed and she lay there on the bed and smoked for a couple of minutes while she ordered her large pizza with extra pepperoni and wedges delivery on her phone app.

With her exhale still drifting from her nose she finally extinguished that cigarette. She lay there for a minute just slowly breathing in and out attempting to relax before a smile crept across her face. Her hand stretched out yet again and between her fingers slid a fresh cigarette from the pack and placed the filter between her lips. Her hand slowly and purposefully her chubby fingers stretched out once again to find the lighter. With it successfully retrieved she lit her second 'it's the freaking weekend cigarette' of the evening with a deep double drag. She exhaled a large cloud of smoke as she lay there out on her back. With yet another drag, and exhale, she gently shuffled herself off the bed she again gently coughed as she flicked the ash from her cigarette and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Once there she opened one of her several £6 bottles of chardonnay she had in the fridge. If she bought six at a time, she got 25% off, which was a win. She poured herself her first large glass of the evening and settled in on the sofa to wait for what she hopes was her usual rather gorgeous looking pizza delivery guy.

Saturday

Laura sniffed hard then woke up and as she rolled over pulling her duvet with her trying to continue hiding from the outside world. Soon after she rolled the predictable and usual hacking cough appeared. She hacked again then swallowed whilst she waited for her juddering body to calm down a little. She opened one of her green eyes, the clock determined it was just after nine thirty. Then slowly it scanned the slightly spinning room twice. Twice only because on the first scan, she thought it moved. In reality she was happy where she was. In bed- 'that's good' she thought 'could have been the sofa- again'. Her second thought was to debate falling back to sleep, or to look for her cigarettes. With both eyes open she was instantly relieved there were two sleeping filters protruding from the pack on the bedside unit. On the weekends, she could never really remember going to bed. Clumsily and she thought most likely still drunkenly her hand wavered knocking over the bed side lamp with a thud. She left it leaning artistically against the wall as she prioritised retrieving the all-important pack. She soon lit one of the cigarettes, inhaled. As she lay there in bed and dragged three times in quick succession her what were once angry nicotine starved lungs started to finally relax.

The two bottles of wine and, if she can remember properly, a couple or three gin night caps to herself had not done her head any good. the pack or so of cigarettes she had with the drink, had not done her throat and lungs much good either. She tried to enjoy the cigarette, but smoked it far too hurriedly, finishing it before she was ultimately ready. It however momentarily solving her throat and lungs problem. She still had on her list to deal with her twinging bladder.

Laura had arranged plans to meet up with Zoe and Karen her work colleagues and friends from work for lunch and spot of shopping at 12ish. She rolled to the edge of the bed, coughed, and slowly groaning and moaning sat up. And stayed put slumped on the edge of the bed as she finished her cigarette. She really needed to move as she more than urgently needed her morning piss.

She slowly padded round the bed onto the landing and to her bathroom, she tugged and eventually hoicked up her surprisingly damp nightie and sat on the toilet. 'Did I wet the bed again?' She mused to herself feeling the warm wet nightie that now stuck her back whilst contemplating stripping the bed of sheets again.

Laura had sat down almost falling on the toilet seat and then smiled as she lit the cigarette in her mouth using the pink Bic lighter conveniently left by the sink taps and relaxed again. As she recreated 'a thundering Niagara Falls' as her ex-boyfriend had cheekily mentioned once or twice, she started to get flashbacks to last night.

Sometime during the second half of the required second bottle of wine, a Brian Cox documentary on one of the random channels on telly had popped up. Laura could all of a sudden remember being far too drunk to concentrate or take in on the useful information he was famous for saying, however she could vaguely remember fingering herself to orgasm whilst sitting on the on the sofa. She fancied the pants off Prof Cox. Laura's nipples suddenly pinged erect against the nightie at that thought of Prof Cox and his purring calm voice. Laura momentarily stopped peeing and stretched her arm across to ash her cigarette in the white sink beside the toilet. She would find three more butts from last night. She picked them up and dropped them between her legs, they bounced off her thick thighs leaving a couple of ash marks before they fell into the bowl. She stood up too early enjoying the last bit of pee dribble and tickle down her thighs, gave her thighs a cursory wipe and then flushed. Then tugging her damp nighty back down over her thighs, she went downstairs to hunt for her morning coffee.

Once her coffee machine had whirred and her phone and fresh pack of cigarettes retrieved from the lounge, Laura was starting feel more human again.

She drank her coffee, as she powered her way through her third morning cigarette. She sat there not really worried that she was in her wet nightie as she focused on nibbling at the half of cold pizza slice remaining in the pizza box on the kitchen table and thought about making a plan for the morning.

She plugged her predictably dead phone into the charger and waited for it to come to life. She then checked for messages from the girls, so she assumed it was still on. She used to go out often with Zoe and Karen, they had actually been to school and college together before going their separate ways at university however somehow, they all ended up back together working at Tectron in the same building. 10-12 years ago, they would have gone out together on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights, easily drinking three or four bottles of Wetherspoons cheap wine between them and then dancing, drinking, and smoking the night away at the nightclub and still managed to up for college or work in the morning. Those were the days when there wasn't a smoking ban, and there was a convenient smoking section upstairs in spoons. The three girls would be sitting up there in an ever-increasing cloud of smoke.