Schoolgirl, Smoker, Model, Scorned

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.

Instead, I stood holding the filter between my fingers and imagined myself modelling for Marlboro. Would they really have used schoolgirls if they could have gotten away with it? I wondered, whilst looking my reflection up and down.

My school uniform consisted of a long-sleeved white blouse, a knee-length navy-blue pleated skirt, with my school badge over the left thigh, and a pair of knee-length navy-blue socks with black shoes. It was hardly sexy, but I guess it would have been another way to entice schoolgirls into smoking.

For the next few minutes I posed like the women in the old smoking adverts. I giggled childishly before trying to take myself seriously. Eventually, I stopped fooling around and got changed to go outside and actually smoke the cigarette.

For the next couple of weeks, smoking on the tree trunk became a regular meeting place for Denzel and me. Not everyday, but most days. He didn't always have his camera either, but I was always smoking a cigarette in my school uniform.

I actually began to look forward to our brief chats, which had evolved into Denzel telling me all about his photography business, and me sharing my future plans for when I left school. He said he used to work in the advertisement industry, before he semi-retired and began making calendars and postcards.

Denzel was tall, thin and very polite. He had thick, curly, grey hair with a clean-shaven face, and he carried himself in a way that I found attractive. Not sexually, but handsome and trustworthy, particularly for an older guy. I reckoned he was in his early sixties.

After eight or nine brief meetings, Denzel was no longer complimenting me or commenting on my smoking. He only asked about my day before sharing his weekend photography plans, but his eyes did wander while I smoked. I also didn't tell anybody about him.

Two weeks of talking to Denzel passed when he said he'd love to show me his work sometime. He said he lived close by and he'd even show me how to take a good picture, worthy of going into a calendar.

I had told him during our conversations that I loved birds, butterflies and squirrels. Anything that lived in the woods really. Watching and listening to the wildlife around me when I smoked a cigarette always added to the calm, relaxing feeling the nicotine fix was already providing.

Instead of becoming wary, my senses had me smiling and keen to see his work. I loved art and photography. So I agreed to follow him back to his house one Friday afternoon. I felt I had nothing to fear.

Denzel lived by himself in a modest detached property on the other side of the woods. He led me into his home and into a large study, where he had piles of digital photos ready to be distributed as postcards. It was geeky but also quite fascinating.

I stayed for close to an hour then Denzel insisted I go home before my parents started wondering where I was. I told him I was eighteen, but he still insisted, telling me I was more than welcome to visit him again. He even offered to show me around the woods, taking my own photos if I had a camera other than my smart phone camera.

I didn't, so that idea was quickly quashed. But I was so interested in creating a calendar, Denzel offered to let me look through all the photos on his computer and pick out twelve I liked. He said I could develop, create and print my very own wildlife calendar.

Accepting his generous offer, I returned the next day, on Saturday, to begin looking at all the photos of animals he'd taken over the years. I was so excited and interested... and very naïve.

I arrived at Denzel's at 10am wearing a white, stretchy skirt that hugged my hips and thighs. A light-pink, sleeveless blouse with the top two buttons undone, showing cleavage. A pair of trainers, and big loop ear rings with my hair curled up in a bun at the back of my head.

It was a very warm day in late spring, so it didn't occur to me that it might have been inappropriate to visit a man I barely knew with my eighteen-year-old body on show. I wasn't trying to tease or flirt with him. I would have worn the blouse and skirt no matter where I went that day.

Denzel greeted me with his usual friendly smile, but his gaze was drawn to my cleavage and bare legs. I blushed a little, realising he'd only ever seen me in my school uniform. But neither of us made a big deal out of it.

Half an hour into searching Denzel's vast photo collection on his laptop, he asked if I needed a cigarette. I didn't, until his suggestion put the idea in my head. I'd literally finished smoking one before I arrived.

"Feel free to smoke in the back garden. Don't mind the neighbours."

Standing up, I fished inside my bag and took out my cigarettes and lighter. Denzel was standing close to me, watching and smiling.

"Do your parents know you smoke?" he inquired.

"No, not yet" I replied with a guilty smile.

Denzel grinned. "So it's your naughty little secret then?"

"Pretty much," I replied walking out of the study towards the back garden. Denzel followed.

"We all have our secrets, Pippa. Do your parents know where you are?"

"No. I mean, I couldn't exactly say I met a man in the woods and I'm going to his house to create a wildlife calendar." I laughed and Denzel grinned as I missed the potential risk in my own statement.

"It must be expensive for a school girl to smoke nowadays."

"Yeah, it does eat into my monthly allowance," I moaned, taking out a cigarette.

Denzel chuckled. "Next time you visit I'll have a packet of Marlboro Menthol waiting for you. A full carton in fact."

"That's very kind of you, Denzel, but you really don't need to do that." I came over shy and placed the filter between my lips.

"I insist!" he smiled, then watched me intently. He looked like he enjoyed watching me light up as much as I actually enjoyed doing it.

While I smoked I could have sworn Denzel was undressing me with his eyes, but his polite, gentlemanly presence told me I was being silly. He watched my mouth when I sucked on the cigarette, then glanced at my cleavage when I inhaled, and then studied my face when I exhaled. All whilst discussing making a wildlife calendar.

When we returned to the study I sat down on the chair in front of the laptop and started choosing the photos I wanted for each day of the month. Denzel stood over me to my right, making me squirm and blush when I realised he could see down my pink blouse into my bra.

Finally selecting twelve photos, Denzel said it was time to stop for lunch. I went into the back garden for another cigarette while he went into the kitchen to make some sandwiches.

I pretended not to notice as he stood in the window watching and smiling at me, while I smoked and he prepared lunch. It felt different to how other guys looked at me. Denzel was much older. I found out he was sixty-five, but he was far more polite and friendly. I hadn't experienced this sort of flirting before, so I didn't consider it flirting.

Besides, Denzel was the first guy I'd ever met who didn't complain about me smoking. He didn't lecture me on the dangers or the harm it would do to me. It was the complete opposite.

During lunch we sat in the lounge, with me on the sofa and Denzel in the chair. He was explaining how we would next create the wildlife calendar, but then his phone rang.

"Excuse me, Pippa, I need to take this call."

"Sure, no worries," I shrugged.

He put his plate down and left the room, closing the lounge door behind him. I looked around the lounge and noticed the décor was very dated. It reminded me of my grandmas house. She hadn't decorated since the 1980's.

Then, something caught my eye on the coffee table. It was a magazine of some kind, and it was poking considerably out amongst the photography magazines on top of it. It caught my attention because it showed a woman's bare leg.

Curious, I put my plate down and pulled it out from the other magazines. I then gasped. On the front cover was a beautiful, thin, leggy blonde, posing on a gold, antique looking sofa. The background was completely black, and the model lit up the front cover in a stunning red cocktail dress.

I opened the magazine and turned page after page. The woman looked to be in her early twenties. In none of the pictures was she nude or wearing skimpy lingerie etc. The blonde was wearing red, green, blue and yellow dresses, all with a black background.

"Oh, sorry, Pippa, I didn't mean for you to find that." Denzel returned, looking sheepish.

"They're beautiful. Did you take these photographs?"

"I did. The model you're looking at is Christina. She was one of my favourite models to work with."

"She is beautiful. How old is she?"

"Christina is nineteen in those photos, but that was some years ago. She must be... thirty, thirty-one by now."

"Was she a professional model?"

"I only created her portfolio. I never really got involved in producing models, but I do believe she went on to feature in catalogues and magazines. Modelling women's clothing."

"I can't get over how great she looks. These photos are amazing," I gasped at the images.

Denzel smiled. "Imagining yourself in Christina's position there, Pippa?"

"I'm nowhere near Christina's league. She's a real model. I'm just... well... Pippa." I laughed.

"Without sounding inappropriate, you do have the looks and figure to be a model. On top of that, all a would-be model requires, in addition to beautiful looks, is confidence and a willingness to take direction."

"But how do you know if a model has those qualities? How would the model know?"

"Firstly, it's important a friendly, trusting relationship has been established between the model and the photographer," Denzel explained, glancing over my shoulder, down at the portfolio in my hands.

"A bit like us in a funny kind of way?" I pondered.

Denzel appeared to ponder with me. "Yes, yes I guess you could say that. "Is it something you'd like to try, or are you just curious as you flick through Christina's photos?"

"I've never seen myself as a would-be model before. The thought has never even occurred to me," I then giggled and started blushing. "Well..." I paused then burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just... well... the other day in my bedroom I was thinking about those old smoking adverts you mentioned..." I started laughing and blushing again.

"And?"

"I was childishly pretending I was modelling for Marlboro." We both laughed.

"What were you wearing?"

"My school uniform!" I laughed once more.

Denzel grinned as if he was visualising me in my bedroom. It was that obvious, but I didn't mind.

"How about we try some poses now? Just as you are?"

"Really?"

"Sure. Nothing too fancy or provocative obviously. I'd be happy to prove you wrong. You're far prettier and more photogenic than you realise," he told me, slipping Christina's portfolio from my hands. "Why don't you see for yourself? We can do a very short photoshoot, exactly as you are, then you can make up your own mind."

Denzel said it so nonchalantly it was if he wasn't bothered either way. The ball was firmly in my court. I wanted to say yes but I definitely lacked the confidence to pose for a professional, even if it was just for personal trial purposes. It wasn't as if I suddenly wanted a portfolio of my own, or like I was going to start contacting modelling agencies.

"Ok," I bounced, a little too excitedly on the sofa. "Let's do it."

Denzel grinned again. "I'll just go and grab my camera.

Moments later I was standing in the lounge feeling nervous all of a sudden, watching Denzel de-clutter the room before he fluffed the cushions.

"Are you ready?"

"I guess so," I murmured.

"Just relax and I'll direct you. You have nothing to fear. We can stop at anytime."

"I know." I then took my seat in the middle of the sofa.

"Ok, just relax and start by putting your hands behind you on the sofa. That's it. Now cross your left leg over your right and lean your body ever so slightly to the right as well, but keep your eyes on the camera. Very good."

Following Denzel's instruction, I began to relax and smile. He wasn't bossy and he didn't moan when I didn't precisely make the pose. He simply encouraged and helped me. He made it fun and very relaxed. It felt like we were just messing about to be honest.

"Very good, Pippa. Now let's try it with you smoking a cigarette. You'll feel at ease and appear more natural."

"Urm, ok!"

"I don't normally allow guests to smoke inside the house, but we don't want the neighbours ruining the shoot by looking over the fence. You can smoke right here on the sofa."

I quickly returned to the study to get my cigarettes and lighter, while Denzel fetched an ashtray from the kitchen. Then once again I was sat on the sofa.

"Light up when you're ready and smoke as you would normally, ok?"

"Got it," I smiled and put the cigarette in my mouth.

"This is just another trial. Just a bit of fun to see how you feel."

I brought the lighter to the tip of the cigarette and then Denzel immediately started taking pictures of me. As I drew a deep drag and inhaled, I noticed it felt different to being photographed without the cigarette, but I wasn't able to put my finger on why. I then held the smoke inside my lungs, not sure where I should look, before I eventually exhaled and took another drag.

"You're doing great, Pippa!" Denzel praised me.

I took a few more drags, relaxing into it, and began to feel a little sexy in myself. Not aroused, but I had a sexy-feel-good-buzz going on inside my body. A confidence booster I guess you could call it.