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I started posting these over a year ago in a different subreddit. They are pretty niche, so I never posted the final chapters. However, Ive received several PM requests asking to see the rest of the story, so here it is.... (See comments for links to parts 1 thru 6.)
BRIANNA
As the months pass, I abandon my efforts to quit smoking. I just love it too much to ever stop. And you reward me lavishly for my failing. You have our pool converted to saltwater, send me to Paris for three weeks, and buy me a red Mercedes convertible. I am the envy of all of my friends, even if they do speak in hushed tones about my unbecoming 2.5 pack a day habit.
You also bring over several men who share your enthusiasm for women who smoke. They compliment me on my deep drags and ask to see my lipstick ringed butts. When I cough, they hand me my cigarettes and tell me the menthol will help. And the more I smoke, the more they flatter me. You buy me many different brands, including hand rolled cigarettes, and even a few cigars. And you and your friends watch with merriment as I try out each one.
I am still running, but I usually call it quits after three or four miles. It has nothing to do with my smoking…or at least that is what I tell myself. We are into summer now, and it’s just too hot to run any more than that. Plus, I’ve had awful allergies this year – dry eyes, congestion, coughing. But I’m sure it will all go away, and I will be back up to seven miles in the fall…
I wake up one night with a terrible cough and a stuffy nose. By morning, I am hot, headachy, and running a slight fever.
"Looks like you are sick, my dear," you casually comment as you read the thermometer.
I respond by lurching up from the bed and clutching my chest as I am hit by a coughing fit. My small frame and dainty features are completely overwhelmed by the violent attack. You can hear that my lungs are downing in phlegm. I gasp and wheeze as the cough subsides. You watch my breasts heave under my silk nightshirt with each struggled breath.
"It’s in your lungs," you continue, "I’ll call Dr. Nason…"
"No…" I pant, "I’m sure…it’s just a…cold. I’ll feel better…in a day or two."
But I don’t feel better in a day or two. My chest aches from all the coughing and labored breathing. My throat is scratchy, and my nose is raw from being wiped so much. I have barely been able to smoke, which has left me irritable and depressed. I also haven’t been able to sleep.
"Miss Brie, I have called Dr. Nason. He will come this afternoon," Mrs. Jeong tells me.
I nod. "Did you bring my cigarettes?" I ask, feebly.
"Of course, Miss Brie," she replies, handing me a fresh pack.
You watch from your study as I open the pack with trembling fingers. Just as the filter touches my lips, I cough weakly. I continue lighting the cigarette, taking a slight inhale because I know that is all my sickly lungs will allow. I exhale unsteadily, tap the ashes, and then return the cylinder to my lips. This time the smoke evokes a violent cough. I grab my bosom with one hand and hold the cigarette to the side with the other. As soon as the cough passes, I inhale again.
ALEC
Before Dr. Nason arrives, you resolve to clean up a bit. You open windows, empty ash trays, and so on. But I have tricked you, I set the appointment for an hour earlier than you were told. He finds you in the middle of cleaning.
What are you doing?
Dr. Nason! I– I was just… your voice catches in your throat, and you let out a wet, crackled cough.
Does your husband smoke in your room? he asks with a concerned look.
No. I mean yes he has smoked, but no he…
You seem confused. Shall we begin?
Mrs. Jeong helps you on with the examination robe. As always it makes you feel exposed and small. He begins the examinations, asking you to take several slow, deep breaths. Dr. Nason makes various expressions of disapproval as he notes the popping and wheezing of your lungs.
Meanwhile, I am watching you from my study. Your twin is between my legs. Ember has dressed her in a parody of a nurses uniform for this afternoons festivities. I watch you for every sign of embarrassment and nicotine hunger.
The Doctors voice is incredulous, Mrs. Knight, after examining you, I find that I must ask… is it possible that you have begun a smoking habit?
What? No! I mean… you denial is childish.
Dr. Nason looks at you sharply. Mrs. Knight?
Well, I… you look down, Yes. Yes, I have.
How could this be? Dr. Nason asks, astonished. He remembers you as a pure, timid child. He never would have imagined you to take up such a dangerous and impious habit.
You dont understand! Things have been so… he…
Your husband?
Yes, he–
Has he been pressuring you? Dr. Nason’s voice leaps with anger.
Well, not exactly, but yes, kind of like that. you stammer, not wanting the doctor to think poorly of your husband.
I will have a word with him! In the meantime, we must get you into the hospital for X-rays.
No please! Its just a cold. You grab his lapel.
I must insist. I will set up an appointment with you for the week afterwards.
As he packs up, you begin an extended coughing spell and your twin finally lets me come.
Two weeks later, you are in Dr. Nasons office. Mrs. Jeong is with you in the waiting room and listens at the door. Through her, I receive a full report.
I spoke with your husband.
Oh..? you ask.
I am a bit puzzled. He denies pressuring you. In fact he says that he doesnt smoke at all.
What? How could he? He was the one– Your heart races with embarrassment and anger. I have betrayed you again.
Now Mrs. Knight let me be candid. He allowed me to examine him and as far as I can tell, he is smoke free. He proposes that you are using him, how shall I say it, to justify an untoward habit?
How could he say that! Do you know what–
MRS. KNIGHT SIT DOWN!
You sit, crushed.
The evidence of your habit is ample and your denials do not become you. He moves toward the light board.
You X-rays show clear evidence of a smoking habit and its deleterious effects. These white patches show where your lungs have become scarred and inflamed. And these cloudy areas are where tar is starting to cover your lung tissue. These are clear signs that if you continue you risk serious harm."
Dr. Nason clicks off the light, and continues his lecture, "Further, your sputum culture showed that you had an infection in your lungs. These will become more and more common if you continue to smoke and can cause permanent tissue damage. Do you have anything to say?
You are cowed, No sir.
Then I will be direct. You are an adult, not a little girl. You cannot continue in this way. Your lungs are being corroded by poisonous tar. Your body is heavily dependent on an addictive drug. This must cease, and quickly. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
You respond with a coughing fit which dissolves into tears. You have never felt more small and helpless. As sobs and coughs wrack your body you again grab at his lapels. There must be some way out of this. In desperation, you recall the clerk who gave you the cigarettes.
Maybe we can work something out…
Mrs. Knight whatever do you mean?
Maybe there is some way to…?
BRIANNA
I know Dr. Nason will tell my father, also a physician, that I have gone against doctors orders by continuing to smoke. I am terrified of my father’s wrath, but also doubtful of my ability to quit. Besides, even if I could, I know that you would never allow it. My mind races as I try to determine how to silence Dr. Nason without letting him know my true fear.
I look longingly into his steely eyes and slowly undo the tie on my exam gown. As it parts, exposing my supple breasts, I coo, "Surely my condition is not as bad as you say. Perhaps we need to run the tests again…" I pout my lips and wait for his reply.
Dr. Nason admires my radiant skin, but he has not forgotten the rot and decay that lies behind my perky breasts. His tone softens, but the message remains the same. "Mrs. Knight," he sighs, "If you continue to smoke, your lungs will continue to worsen. You have already had one lung infection. This is just the tip of the iceberg." Dr. Nason frowns and shakes his head.
Ignoring his disapproval, I shimmy my shoulders, causing the gown to fall into my lap. With my top half completely exposed, I lift my hand to caress the doctor’s stethoscope…
"Mrs. Knight," Dr. Nason scoffs, "please get dressed. I will see you in two weeks to discuss your progress toward quitting." Dr. Nason turns to leave, but stops. "…And Mrs. Knight, I could never be tempted by a woman with such a vile habit."
I hurriedly dress and leave the office without scheduling my next appointment. I am a teary mess of nerves and embarrassment. I am angry at Dr. Nason for treating me so horribly. In the car, I immediately start hunting for my cigarettes. Just one, I tell myself. I just need to calm down. I anxiously light the cigarette and begin filling the car with exhaled smoke. As I round the corner, I am already fishing for a second smoke. It’s not as bad as Dr. Nason says. It can’t be. I’ve only been smoking for a year.
I reach our front gate and sigh impatiently as it opens. I light another cigarette before driving through. As I come into the living room, I am surprised to see you sitting at the piano. "I didn’t know you would be home," I start, taking a careless drag from my cigarette. You stand and come quickly toward me. I can see that you are upset. "What is –"
"I’ve spoken to Dr. Nason. He says you are killing yourself with those," you say, snatching the lit cigarette from my hand.
"Alec –"
"No, Brie. And he told me what you tried to do – dropping your dress like that. He wouldn’t have you would he? Didn’t want to kiss on an ashtray?"
I don’t answer. I am too shocked to speak. Wasn’t it you who forced me to smoke on that beach in Maratea? You who gave me a new car as a reward for smoking more? You who nodded when Quinn Morgan said my smoker’s cough was sexy?
"You’re an embarrassment. You’ll do anything for a cigarette. Drop an exam gown…or flip up a sports bra in the middle of a race."
You watch with satisfaction as my eyes grow wide. "How did you –"
"How did I know?" You take a luxurious drag off my stolen cigarette. You pull the smoke in deep, hold it…and slowly exhale. "I see why you like menthols," you calmly comment, ignoring my question.
ALEC
You seem conflicted, I continue, Unsure whether you are a smoker, unsure whether you want to be. Trying to quit, girls hot sex trying not to. I think I will help you make up your mind.
I calmly pick you up. You struggle, I call Mrs. Jeong to assist and we deposit you in the bedroom. Another round of fights and then the ankle chain you are familiar with is firmly in place once again. You are chained to the bed with barely enough slack to reach the bathroom.
Dont you dare leave me like this! you scream as I do just that. I wait several hours for you to calm down before returning.
Now, as I said before, you seem conflicted about smoking and there is one sure way to clear up any misconceptions you have on that score. Mrs. Jeong will bring you food, but you will be allowed no cigarettes. This will educate you as to whether you can do without them or not.
Panic seizes you. Cigarettes have become such a natural part of your life that it is hard to imagine being without them. And after the race, you have seen first hand what the loss of nicotine can do. How, how long…?
As long as it takes.
You are begging now, Please no, Ill be good, I–
But its too late, I am gone.
It takes two days for you to smoke all the cigarettes you can find stashed in various places about the bedroom. You try to ration them, but you are so bored and it seems like you are just finished with one when you are craving the sweet feel of the nicotine hitting your bloodstream again. Mrs. Jeong brings you excellent treats from the kitchen, but you have lost your appetite contemplating what is to come.
And then you are out. You spend a long sleepless night ransacking the bedroom, but there are no more to be had. And the cravings begin.
It is worse than being hungry, worse than anything. You have to have a cigarette. You plead with Mrs. Jeong, offer anything you can think of, but she might as well not speak your language. Finally you grab her and the two of you struggle. When she finally gets free she goes panting down the hall and you wonder what will happen.
not-the-real-me
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