Smoking Addiction in Seven Lessons

EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING:

Smoking Addiction in Seven Lessons

By uciboy

Author's note: For the sake of simplicity, this story takes place before 2019 at which time Congress mandated that states raise the age for purchase of tobacco to 21. The setting is an unnamed small Midwestern college town.

PART 1 - CURIOSITIES AND INTERESTS

Dense smoke, fed by a number of burning candles around the room, slowly floated through the airspace as the three women sat comfortably in the parlor of their three bedroom home. They appeared to be engaged in conversation, yet no one was actually talking. Light beams from the setting sun pouring in through the windows gave the room a warm, comfortable feeling as thin ribbons of white smoke from the candles scattered around the parlor continued to feed the opaque cloud that slowly moved through the airspace like a transparent mist.

As she sat across from her mother and older sister, Karen suddenly realized that the ribbon of smoke rising from beside her sister was not from a candle at all, but rather a long cigarette between her fingers. Her sister brought the 120 up to her lips and took a gentle puff. Within a few seconds after a slight upward movement in her chest, she slowly exhaled a creamy stream that shimmered in the sunlight's reflection. Karen was amazed at how natural her sister looked with a cigarette, as if she were absolutely born to smoke. Her mother's Asian eyes smiled with pride as she casually inserted a VS120 into her own lips and lit it freehanded with the slight tilt of her head downwards. The tip glowed a beautiful orange in the room's dim light, followed by two thick columns of smoke that gently cascaded down through the woman's nostrils.

The teenager was filled with a euphoric jubilation at seeing this, and she had an overwhelming desire to join them. Whatever doubts she had about the health consequences to smoking completely melted away as she watched her mother and sister continue to silently puff on their cigarettes. She wanted to be like them. Shehad to be like them. She looked to her left, and what she thought had been a candle on the side table she now realized was actually a freshly lit 120 smoldering in an ashtray. Karen knew what she wanted to do. She gently picked up the cigarette and brought it to her lips, not hesitating a second to take a long, slow burning puff on the white filter. When she inhaled, she had the most extraordinary sensation - as if she were weightless. It felt wonderful, and she held the smoke in her body before turning to her sister and mother and exhaling a long, thin stream in their direction. Both women smiled at her.

"I'm smoking," Karen whispered as she brought the cigarette again to her lips for another puff. Her pussy began pulsating, as if there were a human heart between her legs pumping jolts of joyous energy throughout her body. Another puff and a snap inhale, and the heart began to beat faster. Her mother and sister didn't say a word, but the expression on their faces told her to keep going; that a great prize of some sort waited for her at the end of this smoking journey. She brought the smooth white filter up to her lips and puffed. Her sister and mother smiled. Karen continued to puff, and the smiles on the two women's faces grew wider.

"She's going to be one of us," her mother said softly.

"Oh, I can't wait," the sister whispered in anticipation.

A rising excitement was growing inside of Karen. Higher and higher it was taking her. When she could no longer hold back the intense yearning to inhale that immense white cloud which had formed inside of her mouth from the 120 between her fingers, she paused, opened her lips, and snapped back the smoke. Immediately she felt as if the heart between her legs had burst into a thousand pieces in a joyous explosion of pure pleasure."Yes," she groaned repeatedly as her body quivered uncontrollably for several seconds. "Oh, how I love it," she whispered.

And then, very suddenly, Karen saw herself sitting between her mother and sister at the kitchen table, each of them slowly puffing on a freshly lit 120. She had an expression of total contentment on her face. She had become one of them. She closed her eyes and inhaled the creamy contents in her mouth.

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When Karen Kwon opened her eyes, she pursed her lips and blew a stream of air towards the ceiling. She smiled. Another smoking dream. This 18 year old Korean American had many dreams throughout her life about smoking, but only within the last few months had they become more frequent and...intense. Karen brought her arms out from under the covers and placed her hands behind her head. She had always been fascinated with dreams, and these smoking dreams in particular were not difficult to decipher. She was erotically turned on by smoking, though she honestly did not know why. She reached down to her crotch and gently stroked her pussy. It was a bit moist, but no nocturnal emission - not this time, at least.

As a future psychology major, Karen was intrigued by the progression of her desire to smoke over her lifetime. When she was a child, she was mesmerized by the way her mother, a confident and beautiful Korean smoker, would methodically bring a long cigarette up to her lips, slowly make the tip turn orange with a leisurely puff, and then inhale it in any number of ways. But it was the exhale that Karen found so exciting to watch - the way that smoke would gently cascade down from her mother's nose in a milky stream, or flow out of her mouth like a white fluffy cloud. It was magical. As she entered her teen years, she grew more curious. What was it like to inhale a creamy ball of smoke into one's body? Obviously it was pleasurable, as she could see from her Mom's expression when she smoked, but in what way? Was it the same as breathing helium from a balloon? Or the bubbly ice cream with dry ice she tried at the Mall that made her exhale a cone of steam? Was it like that? Karen had always wondered.

But now the teenager had noticed another change in her desire. She wasn't just curious about smoking; she was interested in trying it. The reasons, she understood, were complex. Her love of Korean dramas and the female lead characters in them who smoked made the habit look sophisticated and/or sexy. The cool kids who she would see smoking at Rosie's Drive-In not far from school made smoking look...well, cool, as well as fun.

But of all the reasons for her increased interest in smoking, she could think of none more important than the fact that her older sister, Ari, had taken up the habit recently. She wasn't surprised that her sister had made the leap. Even when Ari was just a young teen, Karen had watched her openly smoke a VS-120 cigarette on occasion without even a look of disapproval from her Mom. After high school, when Ari began attending the local community college part time, she would light up more frequently at home when socializing with friends who were smokers. And so when their Mom asked her oldest what she wanted for her 20th birthday, the young woman didn't even hesitate in her answer: a carton of Virginia Slims 120's. Since that celebration six months ago when she lit a cigarette on one of the candles of her birthday cake, a day had not passed that Ari had not continued to feed her growing addiction. Karen figured that she was at least a pack a day smoker now, coming close to her Mom's pack and a half.

Addiction. That was another human trait that fascinated the future psychologist. What compels a person to continue doing an activity that they know is harmful to their health? Like her mother and sister, Karen knew that she, too, had the personality that was fertile soil for addiction. She could be meticulous in everything she did; even obsessively compulsive. She wanted to try smoking. What had kept her from doing so was not just the knowledge of the health consequences to smoking, but the fear that she might not want to stopregardless of those consequences. If smoking was as pleasurable and fun as it obviously appeared to be, was it worth taking the risk of becoming addicted herself? Since third grade when she saw an anti-smoking film in class, she told herself it was not.Now if only my subconscious would listen to reason! Every dream she had about smoking was a weakening of her defensive walls around her rationality. Just how long could she resist with two smokers in the house?

Karen sat up in bed and reached for her wire rimmed glasses. She walked over to the dresser mirror and looked at herself. She was well aware of the fact that she was not a beauty queen. Her older sister was the beautiful daughter, while Karen was the intelligent one (as a promised scholarship to UCLA proved). But Karen figured that she was at least pretty. Her small face and small eyes, well framed by her wire-rimmed glasses, gave her the look of a seductive librarian. She picked up a brush and ran it through her medium-length black hair which reached down an inch above her shoulders. She smoothed the bangs hiding her forehead. Her medium height and slim figure was perfect for a 120 cigarette.

Karen picked up a long, white pen on the top of her dresser and held it between her fingers. As a child, she had colored the tip of the pen with an orange marker so that it looked like a cigarette. She slowly brought the pen up to her lips, gazing at her reflection as she gently inserted it into her mouth and pretended to take a puff. "Sooo cool," she whispered.

Karen put the pen down and proceeded to get dressed for school.

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When the teenager walked into the kitchen, the air was already heavy with second hand smoke as her mother and sister both sat at the small table, each with a freshly lit 120 between their fingers as they scrolled through their electronic devices after finishing breakfast. Karen saw in the ashtray two crushed cigarettes. Were these both her mother's, or was Ari already on her second cigarette at 7:45 in the morning?Addiction can take hold quickly, Karen thought to herself. As a young girl, Karen detested the odor of her mother's habit; but as she grew older, she came to like the smell of a Virginia Slims. It was the smell of home and safety and comfort.

"There's rice porridge in the hot pot," her mother, Myung Kwon, said with a barely noticeable soft foreign accent that still remained even after living for 21 years in America. She took a puff on her 120, never taking her eyes away from the IPad playing her latest Korean romantic drama.

"Coffee is fine," Karen said as she walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup from the coffee maker. She leaned against the counter taking a sip every few seconds. This was one addiction she had no problem embracing.

"Your lunch is in the fridge," her mom said after another slow puff.

"How come you don't make me a lunch?" Ari teased with the tap of her cigarette over the ashtray.

Myung ignored the question and continued to watch the small screen.

Ari moved her head to take a look at the IPad, bringing her 120 up to the side of her mouth for a luscious puff. "Lesbian lovers again?" she said with smoke punctuating her words as she went back to scrolling through her cell phone.

Karen smiled. Her mother was, to say the least, an unconventional Korean woman from the old country. She had never been shy with her daughters about her bisexuality, and Karen admired her honesty in embracing a sexual identity that she was comfortable with. After all, her mom didn't have much luck with men - at least not with the man she married right out of high school so that the she could accompany him to the U.S. when he received a scholarship to study at the local college. She had postponed her own higher education ambitions upon getting pregnant twice. Determined as she was to attend the college herself after Karen was born, her husband announced that they were moving back to Korea where he expected her to be a mother full time. Within days, Myung filed for divorce. She wasn't surprised that her ex moved back to Korea alone with no interest in shared custody of the kids since to him, they were only daughters, after all.

Karen remembered nothing of her father. All she knew was what Ari had told her from her own foggy recollections that he was a hard and stern man. Karen had no longing to see him. If the bastard wasn't interested in her, why should she be interested in him?Fuck 'im.

Life was tough those first few years raising two girls alone on student loans and what little monetary help she could get from family back in Korea. It did, however, bring them all closer together, particularly since there were so few Asians (and hardly any Koreans) in this small college town. But her mom made it through, working now as a supervisor in Tech Support for the same college she had gotten her degree from. She was a shining example of the hopes and possibilities of the American Dream.

As Karen leaned against the counter, she pretended to stare into space, but in fact she was intently scrutinizing her mother and sister with a psychoanalyst's eye. Both had long, black hair with the type of V-shaped face so desired in Korean culture as a standard of beauty; nor had years of smoking appeared to have damaged the pearl white skin of her mother's complexion. Both women were tall and slender. Her sister could easily be mistaken for a K-Pop idol. Ari's beauty, in fact, fueled a confidence within her that no matter what, her life would have a happy ending. For the moment, she was content to mark time, going to school and working part-time as a receptionist at the VFW Hall downtown so that she could afford to buy her cigarettes and pay for auto expenses.

Karen also observed their smoking styles with great interest. Her mother was an incredibly classy smoker, rhythmically bringing the 120 up to her lips for a 2-3 second slow burn puff. She would open her mouth, allowing a ball of smoke to emerge just to the edge of her lips, and then snap it back deep into her body. Within a few seconds, smoke would magically pour out of her nostrils. Ari's style, however, was not as polished, but Karen had noticed improvement over the last six months. Where before her sister's puffs were short and shallow with a quick exhale, Ari had now mastered the beauty of the French inhale which she held much deeper and longer in her chest than before. Karen wondered if her sister's lungs had initially fought back in a futile effort to resist. Clearly those lungs had lost the battle, not just being forced to submit, but transformed into the willing servant of the pure white smoke. Ari, too, was obedient to the smoke in mind, body, and soul. The thought of being a slave to that beautiful white cylinder between her sister's fingers made Karen's pussy just a bit moist.

She then thought about her dream of the three of them smoking together at the kitchen table. It would be so easy to join them right now. After all, she was 18. She didn't need her Mom's permission. She could drive down to the local smoke shop owned by her best friend's uncle and buy herself a pack if she wanted to - that is, if she had the money.

Or she could simply walk over to the kitchen table, pick up her Mom's pack like Ari used to do, and pull out a cigarette. She imagined herself lighting it and the smiles that would form on her Mom and sister's faces.

"She's one of us now," she imagined her Mom would say in an echoing voice.

"You go girl," she could hear Ari urging her on.

And even if she did by chance like it, she knew that addiction was not really an option since in four months she was off to California where the anti-smoking Nazis ran the state. She then heard a voice in the back of her mind say, "Then why not do it? What's the harm? Enjoy it for a few months, and then quit." Karen felt as if her legs were about to take a step toward the table.

Then she shook her head to force herself out of that fantasy. She looked at her watch. "Gotta go," she said as she reached into the fridge for her lunch and headed towards the front door.

"Have a good day," her mother hollered while her eyes remained glued to the IPad screen.

"I gotta go, too," Ari said as she stubbed out her cigarette while looking up at the clock. "And so do you. Don't be late for work."

"Mmm," Myung hummed with a puff and the nod of her head. "In a minute."

Ari looked over at the screen again where two teenage lesbian lovers were in a locker room sharing a smoky kiss. "You need sex, Mom," she said with a kiss on the side of her head.

"Mmm," Myung hummed in agreement.

PART 2 - EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING

Karen's house was a twenty minute walk from the high school. On the way, she would meet her best friend Christine Chung, the only other Asian American student in her class, as well as a few other Nerd Squad members (as the Advanced Placement students were known). They weren't exactly outcasts, but they knew that they weren't the coolest students in school, either; not by a long shot. For this reason, they tended to stick together throughout the school day since they also took the same AP classes. And this class schedule was staggered from day to day in order to give these high school students a feeling of what a college course schedule would be like. Karen was particularly happy that this was a three day week for AP Psychology, her favorite course, and as she and her friends filed into the classroom, Karen was greeted by a bashful Caucasian boy named Ryan who was already seated.

"Hey, Karen," he said with a smile.

The Korean American politely smiled back. "Hey, Ryan."

As she and Christine walked to their seats near the back of the room, her friend snickered, "Don't you want to sit next to your boyfriend?"

"Shut up," Karen whispered quickly.

Karen actually felt sorry for Ryan. She had met him in fifth grade and knew that since then, he had always had a crush on her. The feeling was not mutual on her end, at least not throughout elementary and junior high school; but she did believe that he had grown into a handsome young man after puberty. On more than a few occasions, she imagined him holding an all-white 100 cigarette between his fingers, and then she'd wonder why she would even have such a thought.

Through the grapevine she had heard that he wanted to invite her to the Winter Formal. She even would have said yes had he followed through. She waited, but the shy teenager never had the balls to ask her. When she went to the dance anyway with her friends, she found out that he was home alone that night. She again was hearing that he wanted to ask her to the Prom coming up in a little over a month. She was not holding her breath for an invite, instead assuming that she would once again hang out with her friends at the celebration in a ballroom at the local Holiday Inn.

Over the din of seats scraping the floor and chit-chat throughout the room, Karen heard the booming voice of her teacher, Ms. Knowles. "Let's get started now," she said, and the class quickly fell silent. This was not because people feared Ms. Knowles, but because they were eager to hear whatever she had to say. She was, in fact, the most popular teacher on the campus. Karen loved the poise and self-confidence of this beautiful thirty-something, white-single female. She was the kind of strong woman that Karen so admired, just like her mother. She often wondered if she was a closet smoker since Ms. Knowles always held a piece of chalk between her index and middle finger as if she were ready to take a puff on it.

This morning, Ms. Knowles took that piece of chalk and wrote the following words on the board: EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING

"Let's talk about your Final Exam project," she said as the class groaned. She smiled as she leaned against the chalk board. "Over the next month, you are going to be working on a different kind of research project; one that helps you to gain knowledge through experience rather than just Internet research. After all, which is more helpful in learning about, oh, say the zoo? Reading about the zoo and its animals? Or visiting the zoo and seeing the animals for yourself?"