All persons in this story are eighteen years of age or over.
"Forget the latest dress, shoes or handbag, the most desirable accessory you need, Pippa, is a cigarette," Jess said. "You're the only one in our group who doesn't smoke!"
I loved Jess to bits. She was more like my sister than my best friend, and she was usually right about most things. I had been curious to try a cigarette for some time now. I'd asked a few of our friends, including my mother, why they smoked and what convinced them to try it in the first place. It felt like I was missing out on something.
There was also another desire eating away at me. I wanted to shake off the innocent girl next door image, the little Miss goody two shoes and express my resistance to those perceptions that people had of me.
Jess was the first person I actually asked why she started. She told me, "I fancied an older guy who smoked. I thought it would make me look older. I felt sexy. It worked," she laughed. "Now I'm just addicted to it."
When I asked Nicola, one of our social smoking friends, she answered, "I couldn't be a regular smoker, but when I'm drinking, I have to have one. I don't really know why, Pippa. I like how it feels and looks when I'm mixing with other smokers enjoying a cigarette, and it's very satisfying."
When I asked my mum one day why she started smoking, she said, "Everybody smoked when I was your age, Pippa. Cigarettes were cheap and sociable. The worst thing you can do is start!"
In school, the girls and boys who smoked were seen as rebellious, sexy, tough, confident, the 'in' crowd, the fun and exciting people. Being a non-smoker, and a straight A student, I was seen as one of the more sensible girls. Never one to take a risk.
Whenever I was drinking with my friends the urge to ask to try a few drags was always bubbling away inside of me. But I never quite managed to say the words.
Inside my bedroom did in fact live an unlit Lambert and Butler, cork filtered cigarette. They were the brand my mother smoked. I had stolen it, or rather borrowed it for role playing purposes. It was actually the third one I'd taken. The first one I carelessly damaged putting it back inside my mother's packet. The second, I foolishly stained the cork filter with my lipstick, so both ended up in the bin.
Childish for a young eighteen-year-old woman, yes, but it felt exciting for some strange reason. I would pretend to smoke while I did my hair and make-up, wondering if I could handle the smoldering smoke if I lit it and let it dangle from my mouth.
What I enjoyed the most though was flaunting in front of my bedroom mirror, dressed to impress, ready to go out, trying out many poses with the cigarette before hiding it in my drawer again.
My long brown hair would be fixed into one of many of my experimental styles. I didn't have a favourite. I would be wearing a dress, usually short and low cut. At 5ft 5inches I hated skirts. Having large breasts for my age I also hated tops. Like my hairstyles, my make up varied, but my nails were always immaculately manicured. I'm obsessed with long, fake nails. I would then prance and pose in front of my bedroom mirror, smiling, frowning, and laughing before practicing my most seductive, sultry look with the unlit cigarette between my fingers.
I believed I had the whole inhale and exhaling thing down to a tee. I'd practiced enough times, although I knew inhaling real smoke would be a considerably different experience.
Now, inside Jess's bedroom, feeling as if she could read my thoughts, Jess convinced me that smoking would suit me. It was an accessory I agreed I needed. I could be a social smoker, no problem.
"Are you ready to try your first cigarette, Pippa?" she grinned mischievously.
I giggled nervously. "Yes."
Jess opened her school bag and pulled out a packet of Marlboro Menthol cigarettes and a black lighter. I read the 'Smoking Kills' warning on the front of the packet and smiled. It was a pointless warning from the tobacco company, forced upon them by the government.
"One for you," Jess giggled, handing me an all-white Marlboro. "And one for me," she giggled again, dropping her school bag onto her bedroom floor, and the packet of Marlboro onto her bed.
I held the cigarette in my hand like a child holding a small mouse. It was if I'd never seen a cigarette before.
"Ok, now watch me and do everything I say." Jess was so excited, shifting on the bed. Her blonde ponytail swung from side to side as she moved closer towards me.
"I got it," I giggled, holding the cigarette between the tips of my index and middle fingers, just as Jess had done, and I had done with the cork filtered cigarette in my bedroom.
Watching Jess light her cigarette, her cheeks hollowing as the end of the cigarette burned bright orange, sizzling, I waited excitedly for my turn. Handing me her red lighter, I smiled when she sucked a thick ball of smoke into her mouth.
I took the lighter from her grasp as she inhaled deeply. Jess then held the smoke inside her lungs and smiled at me before exhaling up at her bedroom ceiling.
Like I had done many times in the privacy of my own bedroom, I excitedly placed the filter between my soft lips. For the first time, however, the filter was white, and I was pressing down on the lighter for real. I swallowed nervously, hoping I could do this as Jess watched me, grinning mischievously.
The naked flame instantly appeared with the click, and then I positioned it at the end of my cigarette.
"Because it's your first cigarette only pull a small amount of smoke into your mouth. You'll cough your guts up if you take in too much," Jess coached me. I did as she advised. "Now hold the smoke for a second inside your mouth. Let it cool down. You won't feel it cool, but you need to let your mouth get used to it. It'll taste warm and minty."
I followed her every instruction, adjusting to the warm, minty, smoky taste consuming my senses.
"As you remove the cigarette from your mouth inhale the smoke into your lungs with a deep breath. This will hopefully stop you coughing violently."
Her final instruction failed miserably. I coughed and hated the taste. But I was determined to smoke at least one drag correctly.
Jess laughed at me before taking a drag from her cigarette. "It takes practice, but you look hot with a cigarette!"
I put the cigarette between my lips again and pulled a smaller amount of smoke into my mouth this time. I held it there for a few seconds longer before I was forced to cough it out. Never in my life had I been so determined to succeed at something so awful. I tried again, and again until eventually I inhaled the smoke. I grinned triumphantly before I exhaled like a real smoker. Jess beamed and nodded her approval. I had succeeded.
I took another drag and felt excited exhaling for a second time. My head immediately started buzzing. I had all but one drag left as the cigarette reached the Marlboro logo. I took that final drag, slowly like the others, before sucking the minty smoke into my mouth and inhaling it into my young, vibrant lungs.
I exhaled and smiled at my best friend as she stubbed out her cigarette. That was the only part of smoking I found off putting. Crushing out the cigarette butt with one's own fingers, especially with perfectly manicured fingernails like mine.
But when I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, I realised it wasn't as bad as I anticipated, but I did feel the need to immediately wash my hands afterwards. The smell remained on my fingers, another reminder of why I shouldn't start smoking, but I was super excited and pleased with myself.
"So, what do you think?" Jess asked, when I returned from the bathroom.
"I don't really know!" I blushed, feeling wickedly guilty. We both set about laughing our heads off.
