Keep Rehearsing and Keep Performing

Rachel extracted one of them, moved it to her lips and leaned forward to accept the light Grant was offering. She took a modest drag and inhaled. "Thank you" she said while holding the smoke in her lungs.

Grant lit his own and took a long, deep, deliberated drag. He was ecstatic that he had convinced Rachel to have yet another cigarette and was sure it was another small victory. This wasn't a training cigarette, this was a cigarette she smoked with him, and he decided just to watch, and not to make any comments on style or technique, but to let her smoke it as she wanted.

But he didn't need to worry, because Rachel smoked the full-flavored Marlboro with the same audacity as the previous cigarette, the glass of wine had clearly provided a helping hand for her to relax. She was unaware of the high load of nicotine that was currently hitting her blood steam and the milligrams of tar that she was gently depositing in her lungs. She seemed to love inhaling deeply, as she continued to take each prolonged drag seriously and intently.

Grant could tell she wanted to smoke for herself; she was no longer doing it just for him. The rhythm was all for her. The view of her smoking opposite him was far more intoxicating than the beers and wine. Rachel was just so stunning, so elegant, holding with grace her cigarette and when it was between her sexy lips, she smoked it with perfected style. She was so sexy.

Sadly, there was one downside for Grant, thanks to the rehearsed and almost routine powerful long drags that Rachel now expertly performing inhale after inhale, the cigarette was fizzing and burning quicker. It now did not take her that long to actually finish a cigarette. As he watched her take the last deep inhale, the tip of the cigarette as the air flowed through into her lungs sizzled brightly, and the grey ash quickly grew as the white paper and brown tobacco burnt down within half an inch of her slim fingers. She finally exhaled what to Grant was a gorgeous grey cloud of smoke from her pink lips. Then all too soon for Grant watched as a plume of smoke danced from the ashtray as she almost triumphantly crushed the spent cigarette out alongside the other two butts. She had managed to finish her cigarette well before than him.

Grant wasn't really a wine drinker. Over the years of living on his own he had learned to appreciate whiskey and had built up a nice assortment of bottles. Having smoked a cigarette, he now badly wanted a glass of liquor instead of wine, so he shuffled up on the couch and pointing at the bottle of wine on the coffee table and smiled at Rachel.

He rubbed his smoky lips together. "I think I'll leave that to you. I want a whiskey. Or could I offer a glass to you too?"

She shook her head practically with horror. "Oh, no thanks Grant. I usually don't drink spirits. They go straight to my head, and I don't think my stomach can mix a third drink..." she giggled and held her slim belly. "If it's okay, I will stick to the wine!"

Grant agreed and got up and headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass and returned to the couch. She had shuffled a little closer to him. Her bare knee within arm's reach. For the next half an hour or so they chatted, drank, and laughed. Laughed at lot. Rachel was slowly shuffling, getting closer to him and being extremely drunk. She was loud, getting louder, her laughs more raucous, her upper body wavering around. Her hands were getting more tactile as she was continuously patting Grant's knee at every opportunity.

But as it often happens when you have an open bottle of wine, you are having fun and empty glass, you topped it up. To keep the conversation going. Grant loved the whiskey he was sipping, but as always happened with him, the tarry flavour just made him want to smoke again, so he reached for the pack of Marlboros again and shook two cigarettes out. Holding them up towards Rachel, her eyes clocked them as he asked with a warm smile "I need another one. Do you care to join me?" He asked putting a filter between his lips.

As he hoped, with her mind clearly liberated by the alcohol, Rachel's resistance was so brief it was not noticeable to either him or her. To his delight she quickly leaned forward to accepted yet another of his Marlboro Red 100s. Grant got the perfect look down the vee of her pretty top at her amazing breasts and the lace scallop edging of her black bra. Had Rachel been more sober, she would have noticed the evil grin on pleasure on Grant's face as he flicked the lighter and watched her again as he held the flame out to her, while she leaned again leaned forward into it. Again, he got to watch.

As Grant was equally drunk, and enjoying the moment far too much, no sooner had he finished his cigarette, he offered Rachel one too. As drinks flowed and the cigarettes that went with them were smoked, they had both started yawning. Rachel was sitting back comfortable in the chair beside Grant. Her lady like posture had gone out the window. Her legs were splayed out trying to stay upright as the wine had gone to her head. It was gone one in the morning. Neither of them could remember the football score or who was playing. Neither of them cared. Rachel had over the evening drunk the whole bottle of Chardonnay to herself and actually smoked more cigarettes than she had even thought about.

As Grant had amazing company for the first time in years and a Rachel who was extremely tipsy. He found that there was no battle from her with the suggestion to smoke more, as such he just couldn't resist the temptation to continue to offer ever more cigarettes to her.

She would with her beaming smile giggle nod and accept the cigarette and the line her face up to the flame. This almost continuous smoking came with a couple of costs for Grant. He had to sit there drunk, and very horny with a permanent hard on, and then actually having to smoke himself. However, both were enjoyable, and it was a small price he was more than willing to pay for the pure pleasure that both of them were getting.

Grant watched as Rachel fell tipsily and giggly fell back in the chair after stubbing out yet another cigarette. Her top yawned up flashing her small flat stomach. Her legs were wide apart flashing her orange knickers. He admired the view for a few seconds before she closed her legs a little as he stretched a yawn. Rachel was aware enough to take that as a hint to go to the bathroom once more and then suggested that she leave for her own bed.

It was not Grant's intentions for her to go as he was having way too much fun. Yes, the wine bottle was empty but the atmosphere between them was electric.

"Oh my God! The room's spinning!" Rachel exclaimed as she tried standing up and she felt the full effect of the alcohol hit her. "I really shouldn't have finished the wine..." She giggled as she grabbed the back of the chair for support before staggering across the room grabbing Grant's chair for stability.

"It's okay, let me help you!" Grant jumped up, and equally regretted doing so. He was as full of whiskey as she was wine. They both staggered around for a second or two giggling at each other.

"I'm fine!" Rachel snappily declared as Grant put a supportive arm around her slim waist as he walked to the downstairs toilet. He opened and closed the door and politely waited for to come back out. As he waited, he went back and picked up her cigarettes and lighter off the table, assuming she would need them in the morning and put them in her coat pocket. Once she was out of the bathroom, he staggered in. Eventually after getting their coats on, giggling that their arms would not go through the holes, they then then arm in arm they made their way out his front door, and the dozen paces to her front door. Helping her by steadying her steps and making sure she didn't fall over.

Rachel focused a little and managed to get the key in the door with surprising ease and opened it. Then with a bit of time swishing her hand up and down the wall eventually found the light switch on the wall before turning to face him.

"Will you be ok, Rachel? Do you need help with anything?" he asked with a little apprehension as her hand went inside her pockets and found her cigarette pack and lighter. Her eyes lit up as she had clearly forgotten about them.

She drunkenly smiled at Grant, "I'm needing help with a kiss night-night!" She tipsily declared as she nervously giggled swaying as she was holding on to the doorframe.

Grant looked at her to ask if, she was sure. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

He calmly stepped forward wrapped his arms around her waist and they both smiled at each other. Their lips touched, it broke apart, they looked at each other once again, smiled and then passionately kissed, locking tongues together as they head each other tight on the doorstep.

The kiss broke and Rachel stroked Grant's face. "Thank you for most amazing night tonight. It was such amazing fun; I really can't wait to do it again!" Rachel said slurring and purring with a sweet smile that made Grant's knees feel weak before she kissed him again.

They then took a step backwards there was a nervous pause, either of them could have made the next move, but they did not. She turned around and let go the door frame and wobbled towards the kitchen noisily dropping her pack of cigarettes and lighter that the clattered down bouncing on the counter. She then staggered towards the stairs. With a giggle of surprise, she caught the banister on the second attempt. Grant waved, and then waited to see if she was coming back to close her front door. He was waiting there hoping desperately to be invited in. The kiss had been amazing.

He stood there like a lemon for a few more moments, but she was gone. He took a couple of steps inside the house to check. She had begun loudly stomping and staggering up the stairs without thinking of shutting or locking it herself. The poor girl was rather drunk.

He then closed the door for her, and returned to his place alone, feeling extremely turned on which had to be delt with, and very happy, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.

***

As the very late night rolled into equally late morning, Rachel woke up feeling awful. She had to cough to clear her lungs. Her head and chest felt equally terrible. She glanced at her alarm it just after ten, she was confused as why she was just wearing just her bra, alone on the bed. She was not sure if Grant had followed her into the house, she knew he was there at the door.

There was suddenly a flashback, she then remembered the kiss. Her hand touched her lips. She sighed loudly.

Her bladder was tingling from all wine, her chest felt heavy and congested and her mouth and throat were as dry as sand. Her head throbbed. All she could smell on her hair and bed clothes was cigarette smoke.

She looked down at the end of bed last nights discarded skirt, knickers. socks and top that were all still on top of the duvet. With a groan Rachel stretched for them and brought them to her nose and urged, they reeked. She grimaced she could not wear them again that day. Spending the whole evening smoking in them meant they had a one-way trip to the washing machine. She staggered out of bed, shoved the clothes and her underwear in the wicker wash basket, triumphantly closing the lid firmly shut. Hiding the smell for now. Out of sight out of mind. She will deal with it later.

Then plodded gingerly into the bathroom and practically collapsing on the toilet seat, she groaned and held her hungover head in her hands. Gingerly once finished, she then climbed in had a very long hot refreshing shower, trying wash away the acrid feel of cigarette smoke that completely covered her body and hair. It was also an attempt to sober herself up. Hoping that by feeling clean and relatively refreshed that she could function better.

As she soaped her body, her brain kept coming back to the kiss. Her whole body felt tingly and excited by the flashes of memories about it.

Back in the bedroom she dressed in her oversized t-shirt and her elasticated baggy cotton lounge ware trousers. Then she checked her tired face out in the mirror, practically scaring herself before putting her wet hair up out the way before heading to the kitchen.

Rachel determined with her throat and tongue feeling as if she has been licking a horse's backside all night. She needed large mug of coffee, and lots of it! As she groaned and coughed as heaved and shuffled her body up on one of the barstools, the first thing she noticed was her open pack of Camels on the counter, a filter teasingly shuffled to the front. She looked inside the pack and could see that a couple of cigarettes were missing.

Memories started to dance and skip through her wine induced memory maze. She remembered that she only smoked a couple of HER own cigarettes before the match with beers, then afterwards a glass of wine, Grant kindly offered her cigarette from HIS pack of Marlboro Red 100s...but...he then offered her more. Trying to remember the details made her headache return with a vengeance and her stomach churn. She then remembered the kiss again. His body close to hers. The passion.

She took a sip of coffee and looked at the pack again. How many did she smoke last night? Rachel had literally no idea. She was having so much fun with Grant, that she almost did not care.

There was something that Rachel did care about. That was that she usually smoked two cigarettes in the morning with her coffee, but that morning she was having serious doubts. She wasn't feeling very good. She was particularly hungover, and she knew her chest was very aware that she smoked more than usual. She had coughed when waking up. She had coughed getting on the seat. The first time since trying to smoke she had coughed. The genuine thought of smoking at that moment in time seemed like the worst thing she could ever do. She would have to speak to Imogen later about this.

Rachel took a deep breath, sighed, and then attempted to ignore the pack, as such she picked up her phone, browsed through the Instagram and the news and sipped absentmindedly on her coffee. But, against her own judgement, her eyes kept swivelling away from the screen and returning on the open pack sitting in front of her. The orange filter poking out the pack. Rachel thought that she had no real interest in smoking, she did not feel as if she should.

But there it was, making itself rather present at that moment in time. It was the nagging voice deep down telling her she really needed to reach for a cigarette. It seemed like her body was trying to tell her something. Head over heart. She went back to the percolator, refilled the cup with more black coffee and tried to read a meme post on Instagram that seemed funny. But instead of concentrating on the picture, her attention and eyes were now locked on the open pack of cigarettes.

Finally, after what was all of ten minutes her mental elastic snapped after trying to justify her own actions to herself, she tutted to herself as she gently put down the phone and reached across and grabbed the pack and lighter.

She sighed loudly "I do need to smoke two anyway. It's part of my rehearsal practice, right. Let's keep Grant happy?" Rachel said out loud staring at the wall that separated their houses trying to convince herself it was the right thing to do.

She gently pulled the escapee filter out between her fingers and with a deep breath of almost excited anticipation she pincered it with the tip of her fingers before triumphantly sliding the filter out before placing it between her waiting lips. She took another preparatorily deep breath and before she could think any more about it and potentially question her actions. Rachel picked up and then flicked the lighter. Grant's training kicked in, and she began with a long first drag, firstly because she was rehearsed and used to it. Secondly, her body now actually needed the smoke in her lungs.

The pungent yet now for Rachel rather delightful smoke from the full-flavored Camel flooded her lungs but Rachel didn't flinch. Her fingers made a wide "Vee" around the filter letting the cigarette rise slightly as she heaved the smoke into her lungs before she clamped her digits tightly around the cigarette and pulled it away from her mouth. She didn't intend to, but the dense smoke packed inside her mouth tried momentarily to escape and formed a creamy ball in front of her lips, only to be sucked back in and down her windpipe, towards the depth of her chest. Without knowing it, Rachel had performed a nice snap inhale, but she focused instead on the pleasant jolt that she felt as the strong smoke hammered her lungs with gusto. Her lungs were now trained to cope with the full force of the of the particulates, so she just let it sit there, wanting it there, needing it there as the nicotine soaked into her bloodstream from the deepest recesses of her lungs until after the beat of three, she began to exhale it.

Grant was now anxiously wanting to again witness this gorgeous, delicate young woman lighting up with intent her first morning cigarette and inhaling a pretty large drag with pure excitement and exhaling a perfect cone through beautiful pink lips with a cute little smile. A sexy young woman feeding and pushing along her budding nicotine addiction.

Rachel was however in her head just trying to go through the motions, it was not meant to be stylish, she was just attempting to quieten that voice that was asking her to get as much smoke into lungs as possible. After a couple more drags, Rachel was surprised to feel a little more relaxed, that her chest was feeling less congested and that her head was both clearer and wasn't aching as badly. She wondered if the cigarette that she was smoking, was at least partially responsible. The thought crossed her mind that whilst having the feeling of being forced to keep up with the repetitive nature of smoking all as looking the part at the auditions, that at least that there were some positive effects.

Rachel forced the final exhale out the side of her lips and watched the smoke bounce across the ceiling before finally dispersing. Rachel was feeling better and more awake, but she had nothing planned for the day, she was still feeling worse for wear for drinking all night long, so she hung around in the kitchen drinking yet another coffee.

As a treat for her wine churned stomach, she got a yoghurt from the fridge and sprinkled a little granola and continued reading and poured a glass of orange juice. As her pallet was washed with the sweet acidic juice, her gaze crept from her phone once more the very open pack of Camel 100s, the pure white tips of the filters and her lighter.

She chuckled studying the pack 'This poor camel is really ugly!' she observed as she casually and almost instinctively slipped one more of the cork filtered cigarettes out and rested it dangling from her lips. She fumbled with the lighter and lit up yet again. As the smoke left her lungs, she had to admit that it smoking that morning wasn't as unpleasant. The whole experience of pulling the smoke into lungs was at least now easily tolerable. She couldn't say she liked the taste or the smell, as the smoke reeked, but certainly it wasn't so bad to have it between her fingers. As she brought her hand back to her lips. She pulled hard yet again.

"Since I have to do this anyway, I can at least I can properly act that I am enjoying these!" She stated to the kitchen sink as she forced yet another exhale from deep within her lungs.

Act 1 Scene 7

"The actor does not live, he plays. He remains cold toward the object of his acting, but his art must be perfection."

Rachel spent the rest of the Sunday morning devouring orange juice trying to sober up. The sun was out, and it looked warm out there. She made herself a simple packed lunch of ham sandwiches and a bottle of water, got her headphones on, and headed out into the sunshine.