The Alley of No Return Ch. 18byfursmoke11©
This chapter is the result of several requests from some people following the story. "The Alley of No Return" is a story about refusal to acknowledge illicit temptations, gradually giving in to them, and how powerful they become in a culture of denial, and oppression, of obvious glamour. Specifically in this chapter, if the notions of sexual chemistry between mother and son, cross dressing, smoking, and fur upset you in any way do not read on. Simply, "If thine eyes offend thee pluck them out."
A similar message can be said of the whole story. The history of female sexuality in the twentieth century revolved around the subtle and gentle art of seduction. The tools of that Art and the canvas on which they developed, revolved around smoking cigarettes and wearing of furs. If you detest either, then deny yourself the knowledge of the unwritten language of them; one which you are entitled to ignore and refuse to acknowledge. But if you were ever tempted by the allure, ever struggled and wished to understand why...then read on. Join us as we celebrate the culture which others seek to destroy. You may find it an intensely liberating experience. If you are one who seeks to crush it, then be not surprised when it grows into something which will shock you to the core. For this is human nature: to oppose the dictatorial and celebrate resistance through absolute indulgence. I will leave you with some Mark Twain quotes to contemplate while you follow the story:
"As an example to others, and not that I care for moderation myself, it has always been my rule never to smoke when asleep, and never to refrain from smoking when awake."
"Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company."
"What marriage is to morality, a properly conducted licensed liquor traffic is to sobriety. In fact, the more things are forbidden, the more popular they become."
"It is the prohibition that makes anything precious."
- Mark Twain's Notebook
For those of you who do understand, I hope you enjoy.
Jane Matthews; author and character.
CHAPTER 18: The Flower of Narcissus
Stephen walked at the side of the stunning looking girl he had just met not half an hour before. She said nothing, just kept looking at him and smiling, her face just glowing a little with flush of nerves, then looking down coyly and giggling. Stephen squeezed her hand and she squeezed back through her soft tan glove.
His heart was pounding. She must have been at last ten years older than him and clearly sophisticated and stylish. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful; let alone be walking hand in hand with her.
Breaking off the hand hold, she placed her hand in the pocket of her full length crystal fox fur and pulled out something that made his heart skip a beat. He knew what it was going to be.
She studied his face for reaction.
"Not going to go cold on me now are you Steve?" she whispered, stopping in her tracks. He said nothing, and placed his arm around her inside the warm fur. Her body was svelte , as he had expected from her graceful walk, and she was a million miles from any girl he had ever been with. She didn't object to his caress of her hips, and pulled him into the doorway of the designer boutique on Sloane Street. It hard started to snow, and it was now quite a heavy flurry. It was 9.34pm and apart from a huddle of people at the bus stop across the street, and the constant procession of cars grinding the frozen slush, it was quiet.
As Steve looked around, the intimacy of the dark doorway lit only by faint lights from the window display, he shivered part in cold and part in anticipation of the situation , and he smiled. There was only one thing however, that he was here for and he knew it. He was nervous yes, but excited beyond his wildest dreams: he was committed, trance like, to following through.
A rasping sounded between the two and the beautiful visage of the girl he was with was illuminated with orange and blue light.
"Oh my god..." the murmur from Steve began "I just can't believe you smoke....oh my...why....oh my....you are so beautiful...you can't be a smoker...." Tears welled in his eyes.
She just smiled. Wickedly. It was a desperate last cry of resistance from him, and she played it.
He watched as the thick cloud emerged from her glossy red lips and his raging hard on jerked against her. He imagined she couldn't feel it through the thick crystal fox, but he was mistaken.
Smiling, and illuminating the glow at the end of the white tube so close to his face once more, she said nothing. He watched as she turned slightly to look both up and down the street from their sanctuary. He watched as snowflakes landed on the thick iridescent fur around her neck, and gently thrust his fingers through the soft fur toward the back of her neck . He gulped at the severity of her dark bob. He touched the back of her sleek hair. "It's beautiful" he said.
"Aww thankyou Steve..." she said, turning back to him and smoke billowing from her smile toward his face. It smelt poison but it engulfed him and fascinated him. He had never been this close to some smoking before, and all his resistance was evaporating. It reminded him of the smoke and scent mix of his own mother's sable coat as he placed his arm around her waist and pressed himself against her, revelling in the closeness of soft, sparkling crystal fox. And he felt not just arousal but comfort in the embrace.
Taking one more cheek hollowing inhale, the girl...woman...held it in within her. She then held the long white stick to his lips. He was frozen, and she held him close to her in the consuming fur. Martina caught sight of herself and the embrace in the reflection in the mirror and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
"Do it Steve....you know you want to....do it for Martina...these are just menthol...mmm..." she whispered seductively as she held the tube of temptation to his cautious lips forcefully. Her eyes lit up with the power she now held over him as he tilted his head and took from her cigarette. He knew he had to inhale it, and he did. Now Martina exhaled over his head, as he collapsed giddy into the embrace of the plush fur. He coughed a little but lifted his head back up to exhale.
"Sssshh..." Martina said "...the next one will be easier. And then you will know why smoking is so... wonderful." His mouth immediately gestured for more, and she fed him giggling.
Martina didn't actually like boys, but she liked what she could do to them she decided, as the vehement anti smoker and first year medical student Stephen Rendell at last succumbed to the charms of a dark coven and began to understand....
"S'nice...he said , in genuine surprise as he savoured the menthol vapour as his lips moved close to hers, "...kind of fresh..."
Martina didn't hesitate. She made the end of her cigarette glow with a venom that lit up the evil glint in her eye, and hollowed her cheeks like Natasha P's stunningly wicked skull like contenance. Then she emptied, like there was no end to it.... the full force of its corruption deep inside him. Her lips played with his, biting delicately. She held her lips over his completely, blocking any attempt he could make to expel the beast....but he wasn't going to anyway.....he was now at one with the monster from his id and Martina knew it. Her tongue for the first time in her life probed that of a boy; just to make sure he had consumed it.
Leaving the whimpering slave in the doorway gawping, Martina flicked the cigarette at her side, and strode off down the street. The promise of Death came packaged in such beauty it was worth it, she thought, and to give someone else that gift...especially one so fearful of it... thrilled her.
"Mmmmmmmm..." she purred as she fed her addicted body through the glowing tube again, more of the attentive ethereal lover that caressed her all over...as she felt the sensuality of plush fox pelts licking at her thighs as she walked...
Stephen watched transfixed for a moment at the sight of the terrifying but beautiful creature. Her cloak of fur billowing out behind her like a cape, The bob haired vixen turned to glance over her shoulder to see if he would follow, her smile beckoning him a billowing exhale in the frosty night. As the little red light glowing at her side between her fingers danced with her flick, held in elegant angle away from the fur, it called to him. The orange light that he would now forever follow....
Two hours earlier Martina had sat at the faux flame lit covered patio of the "Rangers" wine bar restaurant and club in the exclusive side streets of Sloane Street, with "her" mother Jennifer. Sheltered from the light snow, they huddled in their furs and smiled at each other as champagne arrived. They had barely spoken a word to each other, as adrenaline nicotine and alcohol held them entranced. A couple of lines of Colombian marching powder before they had left the hotel had further added potency to the heady cocktail. But their wits were about them, They had to be.
"You sure you are happy with Martina?" Jennifer asked passing the crystal fox clad stunning brunette opposite her a glass of champagne.
"Sure mum....seems natural..." came the reply in husky tones.
"Then Martina it is" Jennifer replied clinking glasses.
As Martina looked around at the other Sloane beautiful ones around the patio , Jennifer surveyed the miraculous transformation, who three hours before had been her son. She was delighted with her choice of shoes for Martina, and was quite stunned how easily he had adapted the elegant walk he'd always had to five inch heels. And he had taken to smoking like he had done it all his life. She was incredible: beautiful and striking.
Martina offered her mother a cigarette and she accepted. The attentive waiter sparked his lighter into action and winked at the gloved ladies as he lit them.
"Very elegant" he said in his Portuguese gravelled purr and was delighted such ladies were present on his patio. That often happened this week, as so many fashion shows brought out such glamour.
"You are fashion journalistas yes? Maybe models?" He asked inquisitively and honestly.
"You could charm the birds out of the trees... thankyou for the compliment..." Jennifer smiled, watching as her "daughter" narrowed her smouldering cat like eyes and targeted her exhale at him.
He sighed, muttered something like "Pieles de Venus", and said if there was anything they needed just to call him.
"I thought you didn't like men?" Jennifer asked Martin/Martina with a raised eyebrow.
Martina responded with a new confidence "I like knowing what I can do to them..." she winked.
Jennifer smiled and winked back.
"Yes....me too. But you are going to have to be careful. Some men may not like what they find out...."
she said, a little concerned though in no way adding any moral lesson.
"Don't worry mum" Martina said , pulling the huge crystal fox collar around her and taking another cheek hollowing puff of the Marlboro light, flicking it nonchalantly in her gloved hand afterward before she spoke again "...I would never let a guy get that close."
Martina's cock throbbed and purred beneath her coat. She was so excited by herself she was not far off coming. Luckily her mother had tucked her upwards in an ingenious girdle affair she had also secured from Harrods, that held it in place. She could have stood up, pulled back the coat and nobody would have suspected a thing.
Jennifer narrowed her yes at her "daughter" in admiration. She watched her cat like countenance, the sleek bob they had fashioned in just 15 minutes from Martin's unruly mop. The cheekbones highlighted with classic rouge drama rather than the fashion for Aunt Sally dollops that most girls seemed to wear these days. The elongated eyeliner and highlighted lids, that gave such evil femininity. The sleek short black Gucci dress they had bought on the way back to the hotel clung to her figure; the figure that had been filled out with Harrods silicone pads discretely placed in her bra.
She was, simply... stunning. For a moment she wondered about Martin's future; whether he would want to develop this ; whether it meant never having grandchildren, the usual mother stuff. But she dismissed it. Jennifer Coombes was no normal mother: she was happy Martin was as happy as she had ever seen him, she had always wanted a daughter, and right now such things that had crossed her mind were not welcome. She ushered them away, and writhed in her fur at being the object of attention for every man on the patio. Flashed smiles and stares of admiration had been coming their way since they had sat down. This was glamour, and they both relished in the spotlight.
"Do you mind if we join you?" fifty four year old Patricia Rendell asked as she placed her glass down on the table. Jennifer surveyed the glamorous older lady , also in furs. Hers was a thick loose fitting sable that flopped from her shoulder as she placed the glass and pulled around her bag to sit, as Jennifer had gestured an invitation with a smile.
"yes we are fur friendly here..." Martina smiled too "...as long as you don't mind us smoking"
"Oh far from it..." she said waving her gloved hand, and opening her bag to pull out a pack of Cartier 100s all whites, and placing them on the table too as she fumbled in the bag for her lighter. Martina picked up her from the table and sparked it. The woman was just his type, and he was eager to see her smoke. Jennifer smiled knowing exactly what her son/daughter was thinking. Eyes turned at the spark of the lighter at what was now looking like a very glamorous table. Patricia made an "mmm" sound as she tossed back her platinum blonde pony tail held by ...yes...it was a sable scrunchy...and leaned towards Martina for the light.
She turned around before speaking again and gestured to someone who lurked in the shadow of the canopy, watching.
"Mum do we have to sit out here?" the young voice said with a tremble.
"On Stephen behave...come and sit down!" Patricia turned back to her new acquaintances, and leaned over to them giggling smoke out of a husky laugh. Martina eagerly breathed it in, and discreetly removed her glove as the woman spoke, seeing the opportunity to bury her hand in the thick buttery sable.
"My son doesn't like me smoking,...." she said turning round and teasing him with a long exaggerated puff. Martina smiled, and stared at the boy with narrowed eyes and a smile and repeated the teas. Oh I will bet he does...Martina thought.
"What are you going to do if you end up going out with a girl who smokes?" the mother asked her red faced son. "Now come and sit down with us ..." she surveyed the patio "every man here would like to be sat with these gorgeous ladies I am sure..."
"Come and join us..." Martina said seductively, and the boy did as he was asked. Sitting red faced and silent, Stephen lifted his glass of beer.
"How... how could I have raised a son with so little appreciation of style!" Patricia muttered to herself.
Patricia Rendell was a former fashion model herself and now a fashion writer. Her partying St John's Wood lifestyle had always left her quiet son uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because the constant parade of glamour when he was growing up had made him close his eyes to it. He particularly detested smoking. He was a quiet academic boy and was now at Medical college. He had seen the dangers of smoking first hand, and couldn't understand why people did it. Despite this, he nursed a secret attraction for it. And Martina spotted that the instant she saw him.
"Oh I am sure he will change as he grows up..." Martina said in the most patronising manner she could manage for a boy actually around the same age. Martina looked thirty, and acted thirty.
"Here we go..." Jennifer said under her smoky breath and smiled at the tease.
"Oh he is a constant nag. Wants to be a doctor. Hates smoking. Always going on about fur being cruel too.... just nag nag nag all the time..." his mother said scornfully.
Stephen looked steadfast. But he wasn't. Beneath the table he was trembling with excitement at being sat with three women he didn't understand, the type he secretly fantasised about. His mother blew smoke directly at him and laughed her husky voice. He gritted his teeth but his cock jerked violently at such seductive provocation by his own mother.
Martina bent forward to diffuse the tension.
"Oh I am sure he will chill out...just a little pent frustrations to iron out...I was the same at his age." She squeezed his hand and Stephen's heart melted. He looked up and the serene dark pools of sympathy that she flashed him, and a smile came to his lips, and a blush.
"I suppose it is okay out here...it isn't the same as in a confined space. I just get uncomfortable when it's in the car and stuff mum..." Stephen contributed, a little more comfortably.
Jennifer nudged Martina under the table and nodded in the direction of Patricia, whose eyes were on the tall good looking Jamaican that was smiling at her in an Armani suit opposite.
"Don't suppose you want to come and warm me up" he called over. "Maybe later" Patricia laughed.
Again Stephen's cock jerked at the thought of his beautiful mother with such a man...him caressing the coat. The coat that when his mother was away, he secretly slept with between his legs. Oh yes; he did like his mother smoking; he liked everything about these women...but he could never, ever admit it to himself.
So he had developed an alter ego born of frustration and denial: a mask.
A mask, Martina had already decided, she would have off and reveal his true identity; just as she had seen Catwoman do to the caped crusader in her...his...youth. She knew that Stephen Rendell's cock was a stiff as they get. And so was hers. She just needed a few moments alone with him.....
As Martina's attentiveness began to bring Stephen out of his shell, Jennifer listened to Patricia's run down on one of the catwalk shows held at an unusual Kensington venue. The waiter brought another bottle of champagne, and poured it as the party talked.
Martina's conversation was more easy talk.
Have you a girlfriend...yes she is away at the moment hiking in Scotland...what music do you listen to...Cold Play how about you? Conversation developed between the two as their mothers raised eyebrows and smiled.
All the time Martina wondered how she could take Stephen and have a few moments with him alone.
Just then an opportunity presented itself. Stephen's mother rose instinctively at the sudden screech of a Daimler stopping, and pulled her digital camera from her bag. Two heavily built men at the entrance to the patio garden stopped the four paparazzi flashing their cameras aloft, from entering after the creatures that had just stepped in. Anika Searle and...yes...Natasha P ...the supermodels.
Martina did not want Natasha P recognising her like this for the first time. Though they had only met the night before, it was someone who could recognise him as Martin.
Martina stood. "Oh I can't stand this commotion..." she said stubbing her cigarette out. I am just going for a little walk mum...." and she turned towards Stephen "would you like to join me?" she asked coyly, smoke drifting from her lips and meandering like a snake toward his.
"Careful..." Jennifer gripped her hand sternly.
Shrugging it off gently, she hooked her thick crystal fox arm beneath Stephen's and he spoke.
"Don't worry ...I will look after her...." Stephen said clearing his throat. "It isn't wise for ladies to be walking around this late at night unaccompanied..." he confirmed; but it wasn't what Jennifer had meant.