I'm an Innocence Thief

Chapter 1

Looking back several years to when Stacey Slater had just turned sixteen.

Oh, back then she was young, bookish, but extremely impressionable. She was so wanting to fit in with the crowd. She was not particularly sporty or arty, and tried to float between everyone. Attempting and often failing to please all. Stacey tried her best at everything. Her achievement in most was particularly average. She was also neither fat nor slim, pretty, or ugly. Pretty average.

Today thirteen years later she is not really very different, of course she has matured and has moments of being sensible, when she can be. She works hard and of course plays hard. Back then everything hinged around her class peers.

Within her class dynamic she was actually scared of "Juicy Lucy." She was the larger-than-life girl whose family had recently moved from London. She was the one with the two older twin sisters who smoked to be cool. So, it turned out she smoked to be cool too. She sat two rows back with the other guys and girls that circulated near her to be cool too.

Lucy was as equally loud as she was large. With her voluminous twisting curly mop of brown hair matching her equally large breasts and thighs and buttocks, she was also tall so very much looked down on her peers. The way she acted she produced a gravitational pull to peoples whose heads could be turned. Lucy Westlake was a loud formidable character. You heard her booming voice before you saw her.

For Stacey I already knew I easily found out her head could be turned. It was her watching the sparkling flame that flashed between their cupped hands making them briefly orange and almost transparent. That fascinated her as they left school every evening that actually intrigued her. The inner pyrotechnic deep within herself. The excitement over the brief flash of warm heat, the flicker of the flame dancing that swirled between hands. The obvious orange glows it produced. It was almost magical. She could also see the excitement her classmates got as a grey cloud swirled above their heads.

But that was the other group in her class. The ones that during the day and between lessons sloped off "to the lane," the short distance across the field to the back road that led to the cricket club, they did it every break and lunchtime. Rather than her friends who went to the library every time. Not to read, but it was dry when raining and somewhere warm to sit. It was no fun with the librarian shouting "Decorum" every five minutes as the giggling and gossiping got louder and louder. They would all shush each other, whisper for a few minutes and then break out in the loud cackling shrieking giggle. Only for decorum to be shouted once again.

But at least she was not late to every lesson as the five or six quickly walked in head bowed apologetically two minutes after everyone had settled. It was bleeding obvious why they were late. It was a long walk to and from the lane back to the school. They only had fifteen minutes to get there, smoke and then hurriedly get back. They almost never made it back in time. Unless it was raining...then they were super quick.

She would sit in history class with her best friend Sally and smell the intoxicating and overpowering sweet, and from Ben, the sour flavour of their recently applied body spray and Lynx Africa deodorant which soon mixed in the air. It combined with the mint chewing gum and failed to overpower the potent acrid smell of their smoke wafting off their clothing and down between the tables. Everyone knew they smoked. It was impossible not to know. Out of the side of her eyes, it was not hard to see the five of them sat there as they tried to focus on the teacher as they loudly open-mouthed chewed away on gum for the first 10 minutes of the lesson. A few minutes later, Lucy would lead the way as Claire, Lucina, Jake, and Ben would all take turns to spit the chewing gum out in the bin at the teacher's direction. It was their obvious punishment. Everyone knew, but nothing was said. It was predictable. It happened every day of every week. It was even more hilarious when then traipsed back soaking wet from going out in the rain.

At least once the chewing stopped there was then silence, and everyone could focus on the teacher.

But I had already got my hook into Stacey with the fascination and interest. Her head had been turned towards me. I just knew I had to be patient. My time would come.

Once my nails had a hold, her inquisitive eyes following the other crowd around the room with interest, it did not take long for thoughts to swirl in an impressionable head.

I just needed time for Stacey to pluck up courage to talk to Lucy...about what the others were up to, what going down the lane, and if she could join in. The sparkle of the lighter, the plumes of smoke, and pleasure on the faces of others was now her newfound interest.

But that was the next stage.

First, I needed her to hold a cigarette. That was key. A simple task but she had never been close to one in her life. Unfortunately, no one in the family smokes. It made my life more difficult. But not impossible.

Lucy was going to give her first cigarette, just at this moment in time neither of them knew that yet. Stacey just needed some gentle persuasion.

Today every time Stacey lights up it's instinctive, it's a flow, she does not think about how the cigarette gets from her bag to her lip, but she does, it's a fluid motion. She can do it blindfolded. Almost like driving, it happens without thought, but with an aim. There is little focus taken getting the flame from the lighter aligned. It just happens before she breathes in the much-needed nicotine rich smoke deep into her lungs for me.

Chapter 2

Back then it was very different. She was so innocent; she had not got a clue. This worked in my favour.

It was a hot spring lunchtime; the whole week had been far too warm and for hormonal teenagers far too sweaty and smelly to be stuck in the stuffy library. However supposedly "cool" it was to be in there pretending to read highbrow books whilst gossiping about the weekend and shopping.

It was the talk of the school and the weekend. One of the others had gone out at the weekend, and between dancing and smoking, had gotten drunk and then had sex with a much older guy in the main car park of town.

The rumours had spread through school of just how much grit had got impressed on her buttocks and to how much grazing from the exciting action, so much so that her bottom hurt so much she could only wear thongs. There had been some pressure from both boys and girls on her to lift her skirt and show everyone the grazed cuts.

To impressionable Stacey this bizarrely sounded exciting and different from her world of being in wearing her boring pyjamas and sitting on the sofa watching television with her parents on a Saturday night. The others were having so much more fun.

By Wednesday Stacey had given up, the gossip around Lucinda had gotten wild and exciting. She told her friends that wanted to go for a walk, get some sun on her face and legs. She told Sally that she did not mind doing it alone. She exclaimed that she was far too white compared to those who used sunbeds or fake tan. It also meant that she could do another mission. Just for herself.

As on Tuesday she had watched from the corridor window as the others, traipsed across the field almost in single file to the gap in the hedge. Today it was her moment after the lunchtime bell, a train of people filed out the door splitting off at the junction with the tennis courts and heading to the playing field.

This of course was my moment. Her need after checking the area for prying eyes of the teachers, she quickly jogged to keep up with the last of them. With a glance back to check the coast was still clear, she followed them down the well eroded path of decades of teens walking the same route. They had been taught by me the years above the need to "sneak" across the corner of the football field and nip through a gap in the hedge. No one would know. I have to laugh, everyone knows. Relief crossed her brow as she was now in the shaded lane off the school boundary. She was safe.

Which she was. My fingers were now holding her, steering her direction towards my goal. We had now got past the inquisitive stage. The watching and listening, almost dreaming.

We now had action.

Stacey got through the "Oh your here?" questioning as the towering Lucy loomed over her as she shared out the cigarettes, with a shrug of the shoulders. Lucy was the oldest looking girl, and the least likely to be ID when buying. No one would contemplate her being underage.

Stacey nodded quietly looking up and forcing a smile to the question "do you want one?" Instantly a bolt of regret flowed through her body after the nod. Did she want one here and now?

I wanted her to have a single cigarette. She was going to have one.

Just the one to start the journey towards me.

Today Stacey will quietly on an off moment regret this day. That all too innocent nod of wanting something she had no idea of what would happen. Other than that, she knew that the others looked cool. Stacey wanted to be like the cool kids. I would not argue with that statement. They do look cool. However, this moment in time would be a catalyst. It would set off a chain reaction in her life.

A new battle between her and the others.

Today Stacey is good, she has to please me. She marches to my tune now. Day after day, drag after drag, cigarette after cigarette. Throughout the day her lungs are repetitively full of smoke for me. The others now have to suffer waiting for her to finish her cigarette before getting out of bed, leaving the house, or going into the store or cinema or whatever. Pleasing me comes first, I am in control of her now.

So back then that one lunchtime smile and nod changed the direction of her life forever.

Standing there in the tree covered dappled light of the quiet road, with a dozen others. A lightweight paper cigarette stuffed with dark bright dried tobacco between her fingers. It all felt wrong. She knew she was being was bad. But succession of the flick of the lighters around her, the building plume of smoke, a couple of coughs as the acrid smoke hit the lungs.

It was her time.

Except it wasn't really. It was a little premature.

As expected, that cigarette was not truly her first. It was a very good attempt. But we all know it takes time to get acquainted with the delights of burning tobacco.

So, for Stacey that Wednesday afternoon there was nothing that I could write home about as being a proper smoked cigarette.

Trying to run back to the sanctuary of the library and her drinks bottle whilst coughing and spluttering and looking green was not her idea of looking cool.

But for me it was a start. She will be cool one day. Just not yet.

Chapter 3

Today, as with every day for the last few years Stacey will start the day with a cigarette. Yes, she finished the previous evening with one too, but after a good night's sleep she knows she can't function properly until she has this one. I don't have to remind her. As we've had plenty of time. I've already programmed her. It's the first thing on her mind when she wakes up. That and to visit the bathroom. But her bladder is not my domain.

It's also not really my fault that she has to cough in the morning. Okay maybe, slightly. But as she is now twenty-nine, we have had a good relationship for almost fifteen years. We get on, especially when finally, the cigarette is lit. It's when she is stressed or busy at work. Then life between us gets a little fractured. She will blame me and anyone else around her for everything. Once a cigarette is lit, I can soothe out the issues, but not too many, as I will want her to light a second. I have to keep her hungry for me. I need to time things right for her, and others. Yes, her boyfriend is in the same boat. I have a similar relationship with him too. I spread myself thin. I'm extremely poly. One of her ex-boyfriends tried to persuade her to quit smoking. I eventually persuaded her to quit him. It was far easier for me. Things were getting far too stressful for her. However much she enjoyed his fit athletic body, it was too much competition for my attention.

As I said Stacey coughing is now part of the accepted daily routine, it happens. All those years ago it was very much part of a prohibitive scary downside to keep trying. The hacking cough created a fear, I had to work hard to minimise that, and push the "looking cool" positives, to keep her curiosity and the potential of me- up.

My luck fell in my favour the following Saturday when Stacey was walking back from clothes shopping in town. She was dawdling through the park. Enjoying the respite from the heat under the trees, they were giving welcome shade on the hot sun. It was there that she found Lucinda sitting on a bench. The sun flickering through the leaves throwing in the breeze a moving shade on her blonde hair, and short summery dress, showing off her slim legs. In the air the acrid smoke was streaming off the tip of her cigarette, twisting in the gentle breeze filling and overpowering the space where the sweet aroma of roses from the nearby flower beds had filled.

Stacey had never really spoken to Lucinda, as she hung out with the others. This was my moment. It was time for a change. A moment to bond.

Looking back, you have to laugh at the simplicity of curiosity.

The two girls laughed and waved at each other. They had been in the same class for the last four years. Lucinda attempted to wave some of the polluting smoke hanging in the air away and to wash her throat took a gulp of her diet coke and shuffled up the bench to make space.

You see, this was my in. For Stacey Lucinda was not scary Lucy. Within minutes she was determined as normal.

Lucinda was sitting there smoking, because unfortunately she was not allowed to smoke at home. Plus, since that other Saturday night was now not allowed in town. That was a relief for Stacey. They had found a common ground. She was not alone.

They sat there and talked about school, the teachers, the weather, everything but the burning remains of the cigarette between Lucinda's fingers. Stacey was good. She didn't talk about what happened in the carpark the other night. As they sat there the smoke was gently bathing them both in the sooty particulates.

It was only as the last of the cigarette fizzled between her lips as she tilted her head back a little, opening her windpipe and pulled the smoke into lungs. She exhaled and stubbed it out on the weathered wooden bench. Leaving the sad twisted butt there, with the good intention of putting it in the bin afterwards she drank a gulp of her coke, turned and asked Stacey if she also wanted a cigarette.

It was difficult for Stacey to say no, it was equally difficult to say yes.

Lucinda was also my friend; we had got to know each other well in those last few months. It was great to see both of them getting on. If in all honesty it was probably a bit quick for her to light a second cigarette.

But with Stacey being hesitantly positive. Why would I complain?

Lucinda acted like a sympathetic coach. She did a sterling job for me. She quietly and slowly explained everything to Stacey. Preparing her for the disgust but telling her happily to work through it. The coughing would disappear and won't happen again. The pleasure would soon be there. You just had to keep trying. Each inhaled drag would provide it, and you would be cool too.

The bottle of diet coke was shared once the cigarette was alight. The smoke was predictably harsh and disgusting initially on Stacey's throat. She grimaced and coughed a little. It was better than the attempt at school. The drink helped wash it down.

Inhaling the smoke was fierce on the lungs, but by the third drag she had just about mastered it.

Thankfully for all concerned Stacey didn't question if Lucinda was so cool, why she was alone hiding in the far corner of the park smoking.

But at that moment Stacey was glad that she was sitting down on the bench, it saved her from falling down as the nicotine hit her bloodstream. It was a good few minutes before she had the confidence to ask to borrow the body spray, dousing herself in Lucinda's defencive fragrance and a piece of chewing gum before she carried on her way home.

She did still briefly stop a little further on in the park to take a deep lungful of recuperative fresh air and bend over to smell the sweet smell of the roses.

But as time now proves, for me I had won. From that Monday morning the others were now in the library. Stacey had joined those outside, unfortunately in the pouring rain. The hot weather had properly broken. She had promised on the Saturday afternoon to go out down the lane at lunchtime with Lucinda. Stacey kept her word. So, there she was standing there under the trees wishing she had a coat carefully smoking most of a cigarette.

There was no going back. I am not always so lucky.

Gratefully for me, she has not. I am a realist; I know many will experiment and then with a strong will ignore me and their internal strength overpower me and go their own sad way.

However, Stacey, as I expected, was willing to go for the thrilling ride. Even to this day as she is nearing thirty, still enjoys her cigarettes, she is really close to me, she has her smoke-filled nicotine addiction.

Yes, even today there are moments when she has to sit on her own on the park bench in the far corner and smoke her cigarettes, but she gets enjoyment. Her moment of smoke-filled pleasure is keeping me happy.

Like others where I was successful, I have taken her innocence and kept it. For Stacey, like all the others there was no going back.

The End.