All characters in this story are eighteen years of age and older.
Hello, my name's Pippa, and I'm a 5ft 5' curvy brunette. I'm also a smoker. Before and after every school day I would stop off in the woods for a cigarette. My parents didn't know I smoked at this point. Nobody did. It was my guilty pleasure.
One Friday afternoon I was sat on an old fallen tree trunk, my usual smoking spot, when an older looking man appeared, walking through the woods in my direction.
"Good afternoon," he smiled, nodding his head. He was roughly five metres away from me.
"Good afternoon," I replied, flipping the lid on my green and white packet of Marlboro menthol cigarettes. I'd never seen the man before.
"You're a dying breed," he grinned, drawing almost level with me.
"I know." I shrugged and tutted at the habit as if I didn't care. "Cancer and heart disease, right?" I scoffed, taking out a cigarette.
The man stopped in-line with me and apologised. "Sorry, I meant it's rare to see such a wonderful sight these days."
Confused, I placed the unlit cigarette in my mouth and frowned. "What?" I mumbled with the cigarette bouncing between my lips.
"Why, a beautiful young lady smoking of course," he chuckled, watching me light the cigarette. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."
This stranger watched me light up and suck the ball of smoke into my mouth, before I inhaled it deeply. He then paused until I exhaled a thick steady stream of smoke.
The man was not threatening. He spoke politely and kept his distance. I didn't feel like he was about to do anything weird, but I thought what he said was strange.
"What are you on about?" I was bemused, smoking the cigarette as the man watched me inhale the smoke, smiling as if he found the situation amusing.
"I'm Denzel. I'm a professional photographer. I didn't mean to intrude on your smoke break. I happen to think the image of a young woman smoking and enjoying a cigarette is very photogenic."
"Really?" I exhaled, still confused. "Why?"
"Can I ask your name?" He stepped back to show he was no threat to me.
"Pippa," I replied, before sucking another long drag of smoke into my lungs.
"It appears you don't appreciate or understand how attractive a young woman smoking a cigarette is. Have you never seen the old cigarette advertisements?"
"No." I shook my head and exhaled at the ground, appearing not bothered, but the conversation had me curious.
"It's been a long time since I photographed a smoking model. It used to be sociably acceptable. Cigarette advertisements were everywhere. A lot of brands feminised smoking. All before your time of course," Denzel explained.
"Sounds interesting," I mused, taking a drag then flicking the ash to the ground when I swallowed the smoke.
"You'd have made the perfect smoking model for those brands, Pippa," Denzel smiled. "You're a natural. Anyway, I shall leave you in peace. Enjoy your weekend and the rest of your cigarette."
"I will, and same to you... Denzel!" I said, watching as he eventually carried on along the path.
That weekend I found myself bored online. Remembering my unusual encounter with Denzel, I typed 'smoking adverts' into my internet search engine. I instantly understood what he was talking about.
Lots and lots of images came up. The cigarette companies not only feminised smoking, but they also sexualised it, and they certainly tapped into the female psyche, claiming it kept them slim. I immediately felt an unknown relation to some of the poses of women looking beautiful and in need of a cigarette. I didn't fully understand the feelings but they came deep from within my gut.
I continued scrolling through the images and found one I really liked. It was of a man and a woman, dressed as if they were at a fancy cocktail party. The gentleman was offering the beauty queen a light. How sweet and romantic. I smiled at the image thinking how manipulative the advertisements really were. No wonder all advertisements were band with the way smoking was promoted back then.
All those images set my cravings off. I slipped a cigarette and a lighter into my pocket and told my parents I was going out for a walk. I think they knew what I was doing really, but they never said anything.
The following Monday morning I was sat on the tree trunk having my pre-school cigarette, hoping to see Denzel again. I wanted to tell him all about my internet search. I was taking a drag from my cigarette when he appeared carrying something in his hand.
"Good morning, Pippa!" he smiled. It was a camera.
"Morning, Denzel. I see you have a camera today."
"Yes, I like to take pictures of the woods and make calendars. There's lots of different trees in these woods, and plenty of wildlife."
"And I'm probably killing them by smoking here," I laughed.
Denzel grinned and watched me take a long drag. "I'm sure the trees and wildlife will be fine."
"Hey! I looked up those old smoking adverts you mentioned last week."
"Oh yeah?" What did you think of them?"
"They definitely made smoking look good for you," I giggled, before taking my last drag and stubbing out the cigarette on the tree trunk.
"I could just imagine you now, Pippa. The poster girl for Marlboro."
We both laughed. "Yeah right," I waved him off. "I don't think so in my school uniform!"
"They would have advertised schoolgirls if they could have gotten away with it. It's money after all!"
Denzel smiled, looking me up and down as if he were visualising me as a Marlboro schoolgirl. I blushed and tried to ignore it, because it made me feel tingly.
"Marlboro's sales would have gone through the roof with you on every packet. You're a natural born smoker. Anyway, have a great day at school, Pippa!"
"You have a great day, Denzel," I said, watching him walk off, taking pictures of the woods.
That day after school I went to my bedroom as normal and slung my school bag onto my bed. I then pulled my hair bobble out and stood in front of the mirror, running my hand through my chestnut locks before straightening them out.
Suddenly, I started giggling at my reflection, because I remembered Denzel's poster girl compliment. I dashed for my school bag and slipped a cigarette from the packet. I wasn't going to light it. My parents would have killed me.