Sliding Down the Bank

This was written by the suggestion to me of James1445.

As he is very much located in the darkest corner of 'darkside' smoking fetish spectrum as that is where he gets the enjoyment in fiction. As such by taking his lead this story migrates well beyond where I am normally comfortable with.

But it was a worthy request dealing with things that I tend to write about- heavy smoking and drinking. So, I wrote it.

Please enjoy if you can? I totally understand if you don't!

Sliding Down the Bank

Lauren Zeehan screwed her faceup yet again she knew it was coming the movement from the bed was too quick. She soon hacked a loud wet cough, then, with her face still twisted in an almost painful grimace, she swallowed as she rubbed her lips together. She sighed as everything calmed down and with relief spreading through her. She over enthusiastically plonked her sagging soft bottom down on the fraying maroon leather poof in front of the large pine dressing table. It was as if the world was on her shoulders. She wiggled her hips as she tugged at the hem of her black silk slip a little further down her black tights covered thighs. She was just trying to get comfortable with minimal effort. The surface of the dressing table was scattered with years of half used make up, perfumes, moisturisers and rather messily cigarette ash. She was convinced one day she would find the time to clean it. She slid her next cigarette from her pack in front of her and placed it between her lips with a flick of the lighter, she double pumped the smoke into the recess of her lungs.

There was a large glass ashtray to her left, full of squished extinguished butts. The once white filters were dark brown stained, the outside orange paper covered in bright red lipstick. Whilst at home her lips at had almost ever-present dangled cigarette between them. Most breaths contained tobacco smoke. As such the growing ash did not always reach the ashtray before it fell off. Occasionally she noticed and stretched her arm to flick and discard the spent ash, before returning the cigarette firmly to her lips.

The forgetting the ashtray especially happened in the evenings when she had more than a glass or two of wine. The white and black ash tumbled either over her, the floor, or the table. The finished cigarettes with a cough reached the ashtrays.

She had constantly reminded herself several times over the years that she should only smoke downstairs in the large south facing conservatory. It was there she could have the windows open for a modicum of fresh air. In principle it was far cleaner down there. This idea of only smoking downstairs was very much easier said rather than actually done. Smoke followed Lauren everywhere. There was now no one to complain about her constant smoking.

Lauren in her head she liked to call her cigarettes Craig. She thought it nicer than calling them her cigarettes. Her Craig's. As for her the names like fags, ciggies, cancer sticks, all sounded derogatory and degrading for something that provided utter delightful pleasure. She felt she got pure pleasure from every single of her forty or more smoked cigarettes a day. Having a 'fag' just sounded wrong. Lauren Zeehan was above that. Having Craig was a delight.

Craig Sainsbury had been her first proper lover over thirty years ago. The one before she had got with her husband. He was the one who had firstly taken her virginity and then soon after given the young and impressionable young Lauren her first cigarette.

As she stood there and smiled and told her she looked utterly divine with it. After hacking a cough and feeling sick and wanting to kill him. He persuaded her to keep going and by the third one she looked back in the mirror and soon agreed. Lauren Zeehan looked fucking hot with a cigarette.

There was no looking back regarding cigarettes. She just had to have one between her fingers at all costs. It did not matter that the Craig and her split up shortly afterwards after he slept with another women.

With a lit cigarette between her fingers or even better between her lips, she felt amazing and even after all these years thought she still looked hot. Even now she still fondly looked back to her short but amazing smoky sexy times with Craig.

Every morning sitting at her dressing table, she practically scared herself as her tired bloodshot eyes stared back in the mirror, as her now old and dishevelled tired face smiled back. She determined that she needed her morning cigarettes just to deal with it.

She could not wait to get downstairs to her smoking area. With a deep cough she soon set about her morning routine, layering her face with makeup to make herself look and feel presentable.

Up to her divorce a ten years ago she was a highly paid sales executive. She still was a well-paid sales executive. But the younger, men and sexier girls were coming up behind her steeling her glory and the all-important top end bonuses that Lauren used to revel in.

Lauren loved clothes, she loved buying clothes. Expensive clothes. Those bonuses kept her wardrobe filled with luxury items. It used to.

The young crowd seemed to have better ideas, be quicker on their feet and could out manoeuvre her most days. That also hurt. Lauren paused rubbing the foundation in and pulled hard on her cigarette. Letting the exhale drift from her nose instantly masking her blood shot eyes in the mirror.

She had spent some of the evening before redoing her long red nails. She would go the nail bar next weekend. The young Polish girl would do them soberly whilst she sat there with a class of wine. The girl was far better that her. But for this week they would just about do. She used to be proud of her bright red nails that lead her elegant hands. She had been proud of her smooth skin in her twenties', and thirties'.

With her mid forties well behind her, the hands were now blotchy, and her blue veins stood proud like a motorway on map.

She still had two hours to get ready, and she would need them. Getting older meant she almost needed less sleep. It meant she could be up late watching those brilliant funny repeats on television, and the two am pee was also a necessity now. There was one positivity, it meant she could have a quick cigarette or two before getting back into bed to try and get to sleep. She was then awake coughing before her alarm ready for that important first cigarette of the day. She found that useful. Then she would spend an hour doing her makeup and hair, then have a slice of buttery toast as she headed out for the ridiculously long commute. The family home was chosen for her awful ex-husband, it was close to his work, not hers.

Lauren straightened her now obviously wrinkled neck in an attempt to hide the small but noticeable double chin, running her hands across her face. Her skin was no longer firmly attached to her frame. It sagged and drooped. If she had the cash, she would have had a face lift by now. She thought her neck was now similar to a cockerels wattles. With a sigh out the corner of her eye she saw her bare shoulders. She then pulled up both her black lace slip and bra straps that had slid down her sloping shoulders back so that they were back in line and focused on the mirror. The dangled cigarette bounced and shone brightly in the mirror as she breathed in, taking the smoke into the far recesses of her old lungs before letting the smoke slowly drift out her nose.

With her foundation covering her face, her cheeks now pinkened, her lips ruby red and her eyes lined light blue, she was ready to face the world. She stood in front of the mirror in her fitted black dress. Yes, it was tight against her stomach. If you looked not particularly closely you could easily see the outline of both her tights and her large leopard print knickers. The larger cut knickers were a necessity now. She still chose the style. However, there were not pink lace thongs or barely there skimpy sexy items. She had yet again put on the large pants to try and hold in her soft sagging stomach. They were still expensive, pretty, yet functional. The elasticated hems of her tights and knickers were clearly imprinted across her abdomen, above and below her belly button. All obvious through the overly tight fabric of the stylish above the knee dress. She had still properly fitted in her size 10 dresses perfectly with an inch to spare a few years ago. She was desperate that she was not going to start wearing the urgently required size 12 or more likely 14 just yet. She had competition. The young girls with their perfect skin in their size 8's looked far too pretty as they quickly flitted with ease about the office. Lauren could get somewhere with purpose, but slowly. She was not as quick as she used to be. She believed that she did not need to be.

She straightened her back once more as her hands fought the arm holes and with a cough, pulled on her blazer and sucking in did the single button up at the front. She stood in front of the mirror and twisting her body at the knees. She smiled her brown teeth contrasting with her red lips, yes, she still thought she looked impressive.

Lauren always made sure she had time for at least one more cigarette whilst eating her toast in the conservatory. It had her comfortable chair and ashtray. The bifold windows opened up on to her large garden. Peter the overly scruffy, but useful gardener came in once a month to look after it. As for Lauren it was now just too much like hard work. There was a time where she would be on her hands and knees dealing with the weeds in her rose bed. Now she couldn't dream of getting on her hands and knees and pull out the weeds. The effort to get up again would be too much.

Sitting on garden chair and taking in the beauty was something she could easily do. Especially on a warm sunny Sunday afternoon with a cold glass of white wine and her endless cigarettes.

Every morning without fail winced at growing collection of wine bottles on the kitchen counter. It was recycling tomorrow. She would promise herself yet again not to open the second one that evening.

She had it in her head to downsize the house sooner or later. With the husband and child gone it was far too big for little old her rattling around in it on her own. Her twenty-year-old son had moved to Australia. He had met his girlfriend in a bar in London whilst at university, once he graduated, they quickly got married and he very much disappeared from her life.

Lauren had really hoped that he would be back for Christmas. She would have loved to have met his girlfriend, but somehow the opportunity never arose. But he had promised last year to come back during the summer, and that never happened either. She was hoping for grandchildren soon. But there was no chance of her getting on plane for 12 hours. Not one. The free drinks all flight did sound as one positive idea though.

Lauren sniffed hard and again coughed as she picked up last night's wine glass from beside the ashtray. As she walked to the kitchen, she gulped down the last third she had accidentally left behind last night, before staggering to bed. She triumphantly licking her lips of the enjoyable taste. She did not want to waste it. At the sink she rinsed it out. Opening the fridge, she got the butter and juice out, pouring her orange juice into the still red lipstick peppered but vaguely clean glass, and then with a couple misaligned attempts she got the slice of bread in the toaster.

She knew she had to focus this morning. Today was a big day. Her and Danielle her assistant were in the final stages of negotiating for a big contract. Far too many little details that needed to be right. Young Danielle was brilliant and did a lot of the donkey work for her. Lauren used to be great at it, the minute details of contracts hours and hours of trawling through paperwork, but now liked to focus on the big ideas. She could just about focus and manage on them. The small details danced and bounced across the page, even with her reading glasses on. If she could remember where she put them.

With the toaster clicked and with the white bread nicely browned as toast as it popped, she soon lathered it thick in creamy butter and took a bite. Whilst chewing she then carried her glass and plate to her comfortable chair in the conservatory. The sun was starting to rise, and through the condensation she smiled as she watched a grey bunny that appeared from the hedge, looked around and then jumped across her garden. She settled down and briefly quickly chewed on the bread, the crumbs scattering everywhere. With the final corner eaten, whilst licking her red lips with yet another hacking throat clearing cough, she reached across and pulled out a fresh cigarette. Potential penultimate one before the one she definitely had before she gracefully made her way to get on the train. Lauren Zeehan does not rush. If she missed the train, so be it. It meant time for another cigarette. She caught them on her terms.

Squinting her eyes, wishing she knew where her reading glasses were, she had not seen them for days. She attempted to check her delicate small gold watch on her arm. The graceful hands were far too small. She shrugged her shoulders and guessed she had 20 minutes until she had to catch the train. It's one thing that annoyed her, cars, she could drive but was much happier with her son and husband around to drive her about. Without them around it meant unless work demanded her the BMW sat in the garage, and it meant her commute was at the beck and call of the train company. She hated it. They were for ever running later than she was. The station was a shorter walk to the front of her office compared to walking all the way around the building from the carpark on the other side. She always made sure there was enough time for a cigarette or two from the platform to the office. Her legs could cope with that short walk.

With her face prematurely aged with deep wrinkles fully back in the compact mirror and focused on as she reapplied her lipstick. With a flick of the wrists the crumbs brushed off her jacket, and then holding on to the wall for support whilst her tights covered toes slid and docked in her 3" black heels she was soon ready to face the world and go to work. She promised herself that she would leave as soon as she had finished her next cigarette.

The first port of call on the way to the train station was the corner shop. She always needed at least a minimum three packs of 'Craigs' in her bag. Her current open one, and two spares. As soon as she opened her spare, she just had to buy another two, just in case. She would be all of flutter until she had that extra in the bag. It often meant buying a pack or two on the way to and then one or two on the way back from work.

***

Lauren took a deep wheezing breath to desperately get some oxygen in her lungs as after the long walk she actually needed some. She winced as her heavy congested lungs practically rattled as she went up in the lift up to her second-floor office. Her recently sprayed overly strong perfume filling the space as such she had to cough and cough hard. Before chewing on her mints. The stairs were far too steep for her in her heels. She could have done them in pumps. When she first started working for EcoTerra she could fly up and down the stairs. Not so much now. To anyone who would listen, she just blamed it on her arthritis in her knee joints as she was not so young anymore. It was easier to stand and wait for the lift to do the hard work. She held the side of the lift as she paused to compose herself just to get her breath back as she waited for the door to open.

"Morning Lauren!" Her rather young pretty brunette assistant cum secretary, Danielle, happily beamed as Lauren waved back, as with her head held high, she confidently marched in her 3" heels across the office at least twenty minutes late. She then settled down in her office and relaxed as the pneumatic spindle squeaking loudly as it took her weight.

Once past Danielle sank into her chair and winced waiting.

"Sorry again, Dan, train was delayed again, so what do you need from this morning?" Lauren asked from across the office with her voice deep and gravelly.

"Well..."

Danielle went on in great detail, purposing confusing the already behind the curve Lauren. It was not difficult. She did this most days. Explaining when roughly the meetings were and the topics.

Lauren made appreciative and agreeable grunts and noises and tried to use the pen to make notes. It was difficult to focus with the noise in the office, but she did her best.

After forty or so minutes later, having tried and as time went on failed to focus on her notes. With a deep rattling cough Lauren got up and retrieving her open pack, gold lighter and phone. Made her regular excuse that she really needed to take a personal call outside. She seems to have to make these calls every hour on the hour. She hated that time stood still as she waited for the lift. It felt like it took forever to get downstairs. Conversely it was far too quick on the return.

She was eventually downstairs powering through two quickly smoked cigarettes. It was her five minutes of pleasure. Her time with Craig. She genuinely looked forwards to filling her lungs with smoke. She knew they would support her for the next hour. Even if it was raining, it was her time to make life momentarily better for a bit. A few minutes to think of Craig.

Danielle would always joke as Lauren returned to her desk doused in body spray and chewing on mints; she would ask if everything was okay at home. Lauren would nod. Danielle would nod back, full well knowing no phone call ever took place as there was no one was at home.

As lunchtime approached, Danielle got slightly anxious. They had a lunch meeting with the important customer. She had told Lauren several times, in a roundabout way, highlighting the booking of the meeting room and that food was ordered. There was a small thing, she told her in such a way that it would ensure she had other priorities.

Danielle knew she could carry it easily. She had planned for this moment for months.

At 1230 Lauren announced that she had to go and find her lunch, as she again forgotten, as did not have time to make her sandwiches this morning. Danielle was going to interrupt and suggest that she really did not have to go anywhere. Lauren could stay for the meeting; she had booked food the lunch for everyone.

Danielle rose on her haunches ready to say don't go, but as Lauren hacked another cough and shook head as she shuffled in her heels away to the lifts, Danielle sat back down and let her leave. This was her moment to shine.

***

With her ever present loud hacking cough brought on as she sat down at her usual wooden bench in the 'hidden' beer garden of the Fox and Hounds just over the road from the office. As Lauren reached for her first of several cigarettes, she lit it using her trusty gold lighter. It was given to her by her husband a lifetime ago as a thirtieth birthday present. It was the only useful thing he ever gave her. She exhaled a cloud of smoke and grabbed her large glasses of white wine that was beside her two packs of Marlboro Red cigarettes. Her other spare was still securely in the bag. She needed to wash her throat of smoke. She would wait for her extra-large bowl of cheesy chips to be bought out.

Back over the road Danielle had just stood up and gave the presentation she had been busily rehearsing for weeks. Lauren should have done it; it was almost expected. But unfortunately for her it was strategically far down on the list amongst the small details that she would have overlooked the requirement.

As Lauren alternated deep drags on her cigarette between chewing on her ketchup covered fried potatoes, Danielle sat down as the neatly prepared sandwiches were shared out and the coffees were poured. Lauren felt comfortable. She still believed she had time as she lit another cigarette and ordered another glass of wine. Danielle felt triumphant. Everyone had listened positively, and the outcomes were looking good. Lauren was in the best place. Out of the way.