Smoking Addiction in Seven Lessons

Karen could see the advantage of this approach, but also recognized a drawback. "Ms. Knowles?" she said as she raised her hand. "Isn't there also the danger of bias in such an approach? After all, my experience at the zoo may be that the animals look happy; but other, more nuanced research may indicate they are miserable."

"Excellent point," the teacher replied in a praiseworthy tone.

"Kiss ass," Christine whispered behind her.

"This is why you are going to choose a topic that requires both primary/secondary research AND something that you can experience first-hand. The key to Experiential Learning is that you embrace this as more than just a hands-on project.You need to reflect on it. For this reason, you'll be keeping a daily journal to record your experiences and whatever impressions you have. You aren't going to submit the journal, but youare going to find your notes very helpful when writing up your final report." She then handed out to each student the specific guidelines of the assignment. "I'm giving you plenty of time to do this project, so don't wait until the last week to start it (as I know most of you will, she thought to herself). In addition to a written report, you'll also be doing an oral presentation."

The class gave out another groan.

"I know, I know. But you can handle it. You're the Nerd Squad!"

++++++++++++++++

Ari sat outside at a picnic table enjoying the beautiful spring weather. She had another ten minutes before her Literature class started - just enough time to enjoy a cigarette. She pulled her pack out of her purse, along with her lighter, and proceeded to light one of the long 120s freehanded. She opened her lips a crack to inhale the initial puff, and then exhaled through her nose as she continued to puff before delicately pulling the cigarette out from her lips with her long, thin fingers.

This exhibitionist didn't care that she was one of the only students smoking in the quad. In fact, she loved the attention. Nor did she care that her sister had gotten the brains in the family, for she knew instinctively that in the end it didn't matter how hard a person worked in life, but rather how rich the person was that they were sleeping with. An education in the seduction of smoking was the only degree she needed to get ahead in life. With a VS120 between her fingers, she was assured a happy ending.

Of course, she wasn't likely to find someone of any great importance at a community college in the next town over, but patience was a virtue. This was her second year as a part-time student. In another year or so, she would move on to a four year institution; maybe the college in her own town. In the meantime, she would enjoy herself before making more serious life plans; and she did enjoy herself, while at the same time being cautious. One doesn't get ahead in life by being known as the town slut. She chose her boy-toys wisely, preferring the younger freshmen on campus; the quiet, shy type. The ones whom she could easily control.

"Good morning, Ari," a 19 year old white male said as he sat down next to her. "Did you miss me?"

"Brad," Ari said in a smooth tone as she stroked his face, "I spend my waking hours thinking only of you."

The teenager pulled out a pack of Marlboro Lights and proceeded to light a cigarette, puffing on it heartily.

"Brad," Ari said in an icy tone, "did I say that you could smoke in front of me?"

The teenager looked at her with a fearful expression on his face. "No, Mistress," he answered softly.

"Then put it out," she said calmly but in a stern tone.

"But I..." Brad began to plead with a whimper.

"Put...it...out."

The young man hesitated for several seconds before complying. "Yes, Mistress." He dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his shoe.

"Good boy," Ari said with a wide smile as she again stroked his face. "And what did I say about those Marlboro Lights? Do I need to tell you again that I'm only going to date a committed smoker, someone who understands the power of a rich, full flavored cigarette?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress, but I was just waiting until I finished the carton."

"Oh," Ari said as she shook her head slowly back and forth. "Too bad. Well, I guess we'll just have to wait until you're all done with them before we," she paused and took a cheek hollowed puff, "can feed your addiction," she added with smoke pouring out of her mouth. Her nipples hardened when she saw the expression of disappointment on his face.

"I'll smoke them quickly," he promised.

"Every last one," she said with the touch of his nose.

He desperately wanted a cigarette. The addiction in him was strong. She had, after all, instilled it within him, one of the evil joys she had in dating only non-smokers. There were still five minutes to go before they had to walk into class; in other words, there was plenty of time for him to enjoy a quick smoke. Should she take pity on him?

"Mistress, may I have a cigarette?"

Ari smiled sweetly at him. "No," she replied. She took one last long puff, French inhaled the white creamy ball to ensure that Brad had a big and strong hard-on as he walked into the classroom, and exhaled a cone of smoke into his face.

"Time for class, my pet," she said as she dropped her cigarette on the ground and stood up from the table. She offered him her hand, which the teenager gently took into his own as he stood up with a wide grin. He still couldn't believe that the most beautiful Asian woman in the school - no, the most beautiful woman in the wholeworld - was his girlfriend.

++++++++++++++++

Myung sat in her office at her computer terminal reviewing a long string of code. She hadn't yet figured out why the campus email system was not blocking spam, but she was confident she would. If only she didn't have to go outside so often just for a nicotine fix. How she missed the early days of her job when she could smoke at her desk; back when it seemed like the whole world smoked - or at least everyone in this Midwestern town.

Myung tried nicotine gum, but it only made her sick to her stomach by chewing it non-stop throughout the work day. Instead, she requested a different office near the exit door to the back parking lot so that she could slip out every 20 minutes or so. Being a supervisor gave her the freedom to do this. It also allowed her to socialize with other smokers in the building who congregated throughout the day in that same lot. As a gorgeous smoker, and a self-confident one at that, Myung was used to being hit on by the men. She didn't mind, as long as they understood that no meantno when they asked her out on a date.

After her divorce, Myung had come out of the closet - at least to her girls. She told them that she had always been bisexual. Her love of Korean lesbian dramas was because they reminded her of her own sexual exploits with female classmates back in high school. There was no question in her mind that she liked the feel of a big cock between her legs (though she explained that in more delicate language to her daughters), but she had only ever experienced emotional tenderness - that is, love - with another woman.

Though honest with herself and her daughters, living in a small town in Middle America complicated her wish to live the life she truly desired. She was already an Asian minority, and being labeled the town's "Asian lesbian" was not something she aspired to. Besides, she was used to hiding her sexuality in public. She had done that all of her life back in South Korea. But she had dreams; of falling in love and settling down with another woman once her kids moved out. She knew, though, that it was just a dream.

Myung suddenly realized that the problem with the code was with an extra backslash. She would have a talk with staff responsible later. For now, time to celebrate with a Virginia Slims. She picked up her pack and headed towards the parking lot exit. Before she had even stepped outside, she had a long cigarette in the corner of her mouth and was pulling out her lighter. She opened the door, immediately brought forth the flame with the cup of her hand, and lit the tip with her head slightly down at an angle. She puffed hard, a cheek-hollowed draw that got that baby fired up. She lifted her head as she removed the 120 with her fingers, opened her mouth wide, and snapped back the thick ball of smoke. She wanted that first puff to completely engulf her lungs. She was a life-long smoker. She didn't have time for baby puffs.

"How you doin', Myung?"

Myung immediately turned to where she heard the sound of the voice and exhaled a creamy cone. She was so focused on getting the nicotine into her body that she had not even noticed the Asian American man already outside sitting on a bench along the wall. "Oh, hi Irwin," she said unenthusiastically as she brought the 120 up for another hard draw and turned her head to look at nothing in particular.

"It's a real pain, isn't it?"

She turned again towards him. "What's that?"

"These new state restrictions that all indoor workplaces be smoke-free," the Assistant Dean said. "I mean, one day you can smoke wherever you want; and then suddenly the next day you're herded outside like cattle."

"Hmmm," she replied with a puff and a nod. Myung couldn't disagree. She was devastated when the policy was recently implemented. She thought that America was the land of the free, yet there was more freedom to smoke in a place like North Korea than there was now in the United States!

She was, however, uninterested in having that conversation with Irwin Park whom she often went out of her way to avoid. For years now he had been hitting on her for a date but refused to take "no" for an answer. "I'm Korean; you're Korean," he once told her. "Fate brought us together in this two-bit town." As an immigrant, she had no idea what "two-bit" meant in American vernacular, but she assumed it was a put-down of the community she had come to feel a part of despite her minority status. After all, she had grown up in a similar town in South Korea. Not too rural; not too urban. There was even a Christian liberal arts college in the vicinity. In contrast, Irwin had come to this college for employment from Chicago. He just didn't understand the rhythm and flow of small town life like she did.

Of course, if she wanted to, she could put up with his urban arrogance. She knew that they were the same age at 39, and he was certainly handsome as most Korean men are. But, as she had told him once before, she had had her fill of men.

"So when are you going to let me take you out?" he asked her for the umpteenth time as he tapped some ash off of his all white 100 cigarette.

"Never," she replied, deadpan, staring at the cars in the parking lot so that she didn't have to engage him face to face. Her right arm crossed her chest with its hand under her left elbow, supporting the left arm holding the cigarette which she kept perpendicular to her face in a pose that sheknew made her look sophisticated. She took a puff every 15-20 seconds or so, held the smoke in her lungs, and then slowly let a waterfall of smoke cascade down from her nostrils, pursing her lips to blow out the excess smoke.

Irwin was enchanted. He loved the poise and style of this smoker. He was never going to give up until she surrendered - which he believed was inevitable since he had so much confidence in himself.

"I know," he said, "that you aren't interested in dating anymore. I understand you had a rough marriage."

Myung slightly shook her head in disdain.You have no idea, she thought to herself.

"You may not be aware that my parents were immigrants."

Myung continued to stare towards the parking lot. She didn't know and she didn't care.

"They came over in the wave in the late 1970s, during the military dictatorship." He took a puff on his cigarette and snapped back the smoke. "You know my father was a doctor? A pediatrician in Seoul before they settled in Los Angeles."

Myung was thinking about the security upgrade she needed to start working on, only half listening to what Irwin was saying; but when he mentioned Los Angeles, which she knew had the largest Korean population in the world outside of Seoul, she was intrigued and turned towards him.

"I thought you were from Chicago."

"I went to school in Chicago," he said reflectively, "but I grew up in Los Angeles." Irwin could see he now had her attention. "My father could neither speak nor read English well enough to pass the medical board exams. So, like many professionals from South Korea back then, he and my mother opened up a liquor store in South Central Los Angeles." He shook his head in disbelief as smoke drifted down through his nostrils after another snap inhale. "And then the riots of '92 came."

"Sa-I-Gu," Myung whispered softly as she took a seat next to him on the bench.

Irwin looked up at her in surprise. "Yes. 4-29. You've heard of it?"

"What Korean our age hasn't?" she asked sympathetically. "The Riots economically devastated the Korean community." She was silent for a moment. "What happened to your father?"

"He lost everything. The store burned to the ground and he was beaten unconscious by an angry mob. He had to completely start over." He took one last puff and threw the butt into the ashtray near the bench. "So you see, I understand the immigrant experience. I know how difficult it was for my parents."

Myung put her hand on top of his.

"But also remember," Irwin continued, "that I'm KoreanAmerican. I know that Korean men from the old country can be...difficult. But as an American, I have much more progressive views about women."

Myung looked into his eyes, then looked down and realized her hand was still on top of his. Embarrassed, she pulled it back. She was touched by his family's story, and she was unwilling to completely dismiss out of hand his argument that a KoreanAmerican could be more progressive than one born and raised in South Korea. She was very proud of her Korean cultural heritage, but she detested its male dominated paternalism. Would growing up in America, where women had far more rights and respect, make a difference for this particular Korean man?

It had been a long time since she had had a dick between her legs. She missed the sensation of a real ejaculation into her vaginal canal, something that even the most sophisticated dildos just couldn't simulate. She watched him light a fresh cigarette.He is a handsome smoker. Myung looked at her cigarette and saw a long ash. She was so engrossed listening to his story that she had only smoked half of that Virginia Slims.

"I should get back to work," she said awkwardly. She flicked off the ash, took one last massive puff and dropped the cigarette into the ashtray next to the bench as she performed a perfect snap. "You've given me something to think about," she said with smoke pouring out of her mouth and nose.

"Really?" Irwin said with genuine surprise. "Well, how about next Friday?"

"Don't push your luck," she replied as she opened the door and walked back into the building.

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Back in her office, Myung clicked on an icon on her computer screen. She needed to finish updating the Music Department's web page. So why couldn't she remember what it was exactly that needed to be done? She pulled a sucker out of her desk, unwrapped it, and stuck it in her mouth. The long white stem was not as good as a 120 in keeping her mind concentrated, but it would have to do. She decided instead to review the security upgrades for the college email system. She reached behind her desk for a manila folder and began reading her notes, yet she could not get focused even on that. "Fuck," she said as she threw aside the folder.I can't believe I'm going to do this, she thought to herself. Am I ready to make this leap after swearing off men? Am I really THAT horny?

She threw the sucker in the waste basket, picked up her pack of Virginia Slims, and proceeded to pull one out and place it between her lips as she walked towards the exit door. Upon reaching the parking lot, she immediately lit it. She turned to Irwin who was still sitting on the bench finishing up his 100 and had a look of surprise at seeing her again so soon.

"So what are you doing tomorrow tonight?" she asked in a smoky exhale.

A wide grin formed on Irwin's face.

PART 3 - CHOOSING A TOPIC

Karen walked into the house lost in thought. What on earth would she do her research topic on? She had many interests which she found impossible to narrow down. How could she choose just one? This was, in fact, a recurring problem for her. Faced with any important decision, she would struggle for days weighing the pros and cons before finally making a choice which she would then obsessively focus on with the passion of a fanatic. The school counselor had given her tips to deal with her obsessive behavior which she was told bordered on clinical OCD, but she largely ignored the advice. She was fine taking daily walks (when she had the time) to clear her head; but breathing exercises? Creative arts therapy? She didn't have time for such nonsense. It was the stress of a deadline that kept her going. She wasn't going to graduate Valedictorian through horticulture therapy.

She plopped down on the couch, her head swimming with ideas. She suddenly realized how tired she was, and decided that an afternoon nap before starting her homework was not a bad idea. "Interests, interests, interests" she murmured to herself as her eyes grew heavy.Well, she thought to herself with a chuckle as she remembered her dream from that morning,I am interested in smoking. Within a few seconds, she was asleep.

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"Karen," Ms. Knowles said sitting at her desk in a corner near the chalkboard, "you're next."

Karen walked to the front of the classroom. Her mind was blank. What did she write her paper on? What was her topic? Her heart raced as the eyes of all of her classmates focused intently on her. "I, um..." she stammered as she placed her hands in her coat pocket and felt her fingers grasp on to a long rectangular package. Of course! Now she remembered her topic. Confidence surged through her body as she pulled out that package and showed it to the class: the shimmering white base and green striped pack of Virginia Slims 120's Menthols. "My topic is on smoking," she said with a smile as she pulled out a long a Virginia Slims and placed it between her lips. In her other pocket, she found a lighter which she used to bring forth a flame to the tip of that cigarette freehanded.

"Smoking," she said after inhaling the initial puff, "is an amazing activity that everyone should experience." She took a deep puff, inhaled, and blew a voluminous amount of smoke at the first row of students. "It looks sexy. Smoking is cool." The students in the first row each lit their own cigarettes, puffing contentedly as they watched the tips glow.

"At some point in their life, every teenager is curious about smoking. Even the 'antis' wonder what the attraction is. And you know who you are," she said to the class with a wink. Karen held the cigarette perpendicular to her face, knowing that the look oozed sensuality. "So why hold back?" She took a luscious puff and slowly French inhaled the contents as she had watched her sister do many times. Her classmates smiled. All were impressed with the level of confidence she had holding that long cigarette. They wanted to experience this pleasure for themselves.

"Of course," Karen continued, smoke pouring down from her nostrils as she walked along a row between the desks, "we all know that smoking causes cancer and other health problems." She took another deep puff, snapped it back, and blew a creamy, unending flow of smoke from one side of the room to the next, smoke gushing out of her mouth like a firehose. "But when something looks and feels this good..." More students began lighting fresh cigarettes. "...then we just can't concern ourselves about health risks!"