Night Shift

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here"

Florian, Flo to everybody who spoke more than two words to him, often thought that it would be a nice motto for the hospital he worked in. He was an orderly. Having left college without a degree, he had finally found this job at the hospital. It paid the rent and that was the best part of it. In his futile attempt to get a proper education he had squandered all the college money his parents had left him. With barely enough money to live on and a job that meant working on shifts his love life was not worth mentioning. None of the nurses he worked with were interested or even interesting enough to deserve an effort. As for doctors or other employees, they mostly saw in him more a piece of equipment then a human being. He wasn't good looking enough to attract attention even thou he had found that he could sort of talk women into finding him sexy. Whether his pheromones or his virile voice did the trick, he didn't know nor did he care. Then there was the darker side of him. He often brooded upon his sexual deviation, as he called it. He hated the label "fetish". Yet he had one. Recently he had found out it was if not common, then at least wide spread. Not that he was immune to the normal stimuli like breasts, hips or a nice face, but without the extra kick, he was near impotent.

In room 10 there was a new patient. She had just been moved there from intensive care. She still needed supervision, but the hospital was short on money, which meant also short of personal, so their policy was to move patients out of intensive care as soon as they were able to breathe on their own. The machinery was supposed to take care that nothing happened. His job in such cases was to see after the patients every hour. He took a tour thru all the rooms in his responsibility, leaving number ten as the last one. All other patients were sleeping peacefully or reading, so he finished quickly.

He entered room number ten. She was a young woman of maybe twenty-five. Under the blanket he couldn't make out much. If anything, he saw she had medium sized breasts. Her face was just a little puffy, but nice to look at, even thou she had a big bruise on her forehead and her skull was partly covered by a bandage. He inspected her medical file that was attached to the foot end of her bed.

Susan Borrows. Car accident. Brain surgery. Artificial coma. He skipped the rest of the medical gibberish. At least he could see that she was drugged to give her brain a chance to recover and otherwise doing nicely. A note from a doctor mentioned they would keep her under for at least another week. He grew bold and lifted the blanket. Yes, she was a little overweight. Not much, just enough to give her broader hips and bigger breasts. Well, he wasn't a fan of the skinny ones anyway, but then he called himself to order. Sizing her up like he wanted to flirt with her was about the biggest nonsense he could think of under the circumstances. From experience he knew that in such cases it could take weeks till the patient was fully aware of his surroundings. Yet his mind kept wondering.

He checked her file again, this time the personals. For all he could find, no relatives, no friends no nothing. From her file she must have been a very lonely person. Profession: Secretary. Screening: no drugs. Enzymatic scan: alcohol consumption above average but still in the green range. Yes, he could imagine that. A lonely girl, moderately attractive, spends her evenings in front of the TV, having a drink or two, enough to get her drowsy so she could sleep thru the night, but not enough to turn her into an alcoholic. Not yet at least. A lot of candies or sweets to keep her spirits up. No boyfriend, hopefully. Well, they had announced her employer, but nobody had enquired about her, so chances were she didn't even have a close friend. He felt a sort of sympathy for her. Except he hated sweets and tended to underweight, they had much in common.

Some wires were connected patches on her chest to the heart monitor and a bottle with an infusion was suspended from a steel rod attached to the bed. He read the prescription on her file. He would have to replace the bottle with a full one now and then. That stuff was her food for as long as she was under sedation. He checked blood pressure, heart beat and oxygen saturation, all on the green, so he left her to settle in his cubicle till it was time for the next round. At least he had a terminal at hand with Internet access, so he could surf a bit. He would stay away from the kinkier pages, as any access could be traced back to him, but the keyword smoking seemed to be quite harmless, so he clicked around some message boards on the topic of smoking and lovers of smokers. Like always, reading posts from smokers, mainly from females and from those who worshiped them, left him only half satisfied. He saw himself as an underdog with the soul of a pack leader. Not the kind who could have any woman by just looking her into the eyes, his appetite was ten fold bigger then his capabilities. He had no talent for voyeurism. He needed to get involved personally, but how?

Brooding over the keyboard, the only interruption being his hourly round, slowly a still hazy concept evolved from passing thoughts. He visited number ten again. This time he sniffed her breath carefully. She could use a teeth brush, but otherwise the clean breath of a non-smoker. No, definitely, if she had ever smoked, it must have been a long time ago. Not a trace there. Good. His palms started itching. Could it be done? He had read and heard enough about head surgery to know that selective amnesia was quite common in cases of brain damage. People would wake up with an altered personality, sometimes having forgotten only a small portion of their life or a certain aspect. Sometimes even a close person would have evaporated from their memory for ever, or a skill and he knew of a case a heavy smoker had woken up as a complete non smoker and had never again felt the need to smoke. His addiction had vanished with a minuscule part of his brain. Then why not try the opposite? She would be confused enough to accept almost anything when she woke up. Maybe he could convince her she had been a closet smoker. But even if he could make her try a cigarette, she wasn't accustomed, she wouldn't like it. Then he knew it. In the one week she would be his responsibility at night, he must get her addicted to nicotine. When she would then try a cigarette, she wouldn't get sick but enjoy it instead. Her lack of routine in lighting or inhaling could be explained by selective amnesia, as well the missing memories. Then another obstacle popped up on his mind. Where had she been smoking? Her apartment were hopefully she lived alone, just wouldn't smell of stale smoke, like it should if she had been smoking at home. Yes, a lot of details had to be taken care of. He would have to get hold of her keys soon and go there to smoke in the apartment. He would throw a few butts in her dustbin. He needed to get some ashtrays to spread them around. That called for a list. One wrong step and she might find out the fraud. This would be his masterpiece.

He had, back in college, supported girls who had been doubtful about their smoking, he had manipulated a girl who tried to quit and managed to make her give up the idea and he always tried to talk girls into dumping Lights and Ultra Lights in favor of Full Flavored ones, with some success. But this would go far beyond anything he had ever tried. Who knows, he might even succeed to become involved with her afterwards. A girlfriend whom he had turned into a smoker! It sounded almost too good to be true. But then one step after the other! The first problem to solve was how to get her hooked on nicotine. Patches could help, but he discarded it again. First, it was dangerous. Someone on another shift may discover them. Besides, a slow and constant level of nicotine wasn't the best method. He had read anything he could find on the topic of nicotine addiction and had found a thesis had sounded very reasonable. The strong addiction of cigarette smokers was partly due to the sudden absorption thru the lungs. The nicotine level swooped up with every inhale and it was that kick the brain got addicted on. Cigar or pipe smokers that didn't inhale never experienced that kick, so they wouldn't get addicted the same way cigarette smokers were. The perfusion! An intravenous afflux of nicotine should have a similar impact like an inhale! He would simply feed a succession of increasing doses of nicotine into her perfusion. That left no traces. He would have to tamper a bit with the monitors thou. Each shot of nicotine was bound to increase her heartbeat and blood pressure. It would take some experimenting. Yet, with a little luck, he might be able to simulate the steps a first time smoker would take. Every day an increasing amount of nicotine till her body got used to it. He would do this till she would wake up or even beyond. Then he would see if she had cravings. Well, first things first.

The problem he had to solve now was where to get nicotine in liquid form. Then it was the question of dosage. He had no idea how to correlate the concentration of liquid nicotine to the usual cigarette smoke. After hours of searching he found a table on the Internet. Still he needed to get nicotine base in liquid form. He very much doubted he could find it in a drugstore or pharmacy. After all nicotine was a strong poison. Then he decided to give it a try. He had once overheard a conversation between two doctors about nicotine substitution and thought he remembered that one of the guys had dug up a vial of nicotine base. Maybe he had left the bottle in the �poison chamber� that held the dangerous stuff, including morphine and coke. It was worth trying and he was indeed lucky. Hidden behind other weird stuff he found the bottle. It was too dangerous to take it away, so he simply poured the content into an empty prescription bottle and replaced the liquid with plain water. Should anybody find out it had no effect he would probably assume the nicotine had degenerated. Back to room ten he made a first run. He switched off the alarms of the monitor and injected her a small dose, the calculated equivalent of a tentative drag of a first time smoker. Immediately her heartbeat accelerated and the blood pressure looped up. He could see how her perspiration accelerated too. Fortunately he had calculated correctly. Her vitals didn't rise to a really dangerous level and after a few minutes the values normalized somewhat. Time for another shot. The same effect. Good. He repeated the procedure a couple of times till she had smoked an entire cigarette with small shallow inhales, so to speak. He judged that she really had never been smoking. Good. She had enough for her first time and his shift ended soon anyway. All had gone surprisingly well.

The next step now would be her apartment. The guy who took care of the belongings of patients worked on a nine to five schedule. Driven by an unusual foresight, Flo had managed to get hold of a master key. Security was lax anyway, with the chronic shortage. No problem to open the storage room, get hold of the wallet and keys of Susan and disappear without being seen.

He went home to get a couple of hours of sleep. He couldn't afford to sleep in his tracks the next nights. In the afternoon, he bought a box of Marlboro Reds 100. This was the cigarette that appealed most to him. He loved to see the long cork tip held between delicate fingers ending in painted fingernails.

He found the address easily. It was an old apartment house, not very well kept, meaning moderate rents, but not yet decayed. The building seemed almost deserted. It was too early for people working on a normal eight-hour schedule. He slipped in and went directly to her apartment on the second floor. A quick glance around and he sneaked in. The room smelled like it needed airing badly. Nobody had been here. No pets. Good. He sensed the faint smell of female sweat and some other indefinite odors, maybe from used clothes she hadn't have a chance to wash. No trace of cigarette smell. That had to be changed. He had brought a small rubber ball with him that would help him "smoke up" a couple of cigarettes. It wouldn't do to just let them burn, as he wanted the filter to turn brown. It was out of the question to smoke them himself. He had never even tried and had no intention to do so. He used the rubber ball meant for extracting battery liquid from a car battery to pump on the cigarettes, till the filter had just the right coloring. He had also brought a number of ashtrays. He �smoked� up ten cigarettes this way and as he didn't dare to open a window, his eyes were watering, yet he loved the smell, he had always loved the smell of cigarette smoke. He placed the dirty ashtray in the kitchen sink and threw the butts in the small bin below. He placed other ashtrays in her tiny bedroom, in the bathroom and even one on her small balcony. The broken in box of Marlboros found its place on top of a cardboard. Now her apartment looked and smelled like it had been inhabited by smoker. He left to change for work.

On his way home he had the idea to get duplicates of her keys. Maybe the smell of those ten cigarettes wasn't enough. It might wear out till she would be able to return home. Also he had forgotten an important aspect. Lighters! The one he had used to light up the cigarettes was still in his pocket. He ran to a key shop and got the duplicates.

The night was as quiet as the one before. He would now make her "smoke" a cigarette every two hours and increase the dose each time. His hands trembled with apprehension when he injected the first shot. Like the night before, her heartbeat and blood pressure rose, same as her breath. In intervals of around fifteen seconds he gave her the shots. Good. Nothing really bad happened. There still was one unsolved problem. Even if he could persuade her to try a real cigarette, her throat might hurt and she most probably just wouldn't know how the mechanics of smoking worked.

Towards the end of his shift, he had fed her six virtual cigarettes. He wasn't really sure, but the increase in blood pressure and heartbeat seemed a bit lower towards the end. Hopefully her system had already started to adjust. This could be sheer luck. He knew that some people for whatever reason took up smoking easily, being able to smoke regularly almost from the start, while others fought with nausea and dizziness for weeks on end, till they adjusted or gave up. On his way home, after he had returned her belongings to the storage, the idea hit him. He had at home two items that may prove to be the solution. He had once bought some specialized videos featuring women smoking cigarettes. They hadn�t particularly impressed him. But there was one disk that contained a unique chapter. It was filmed with a camera that had been somehow fixed on the forehead of a woman. The perspective was the one a smoker had when smoking. Even better, opposite the woman carrying the cam sat another one who smoked too. If somebody needed a demonstration of how smoking worked, this was the ideal tape. All the movements of dragging, inhaling, holding, exhaling were expertly demonstrated. The second item was a display helmet, in fact more like some protective spectacles. It contained two tiny displays, one for each eye and could be attached to a DVD player or TV-set. He would simply seat the helmet on her head and play that smoking movie. It would look to her like she was smoking herself. He knew that patients in an artificial coma would sometimes have faint memories of what they heard while unconscious. Maybe that worked with images too. He had seen her eyelids flutter sometimes under the effect of the nicotine. He had to try it. He all but emptied his account to buy a portable DVD player.

He decreased the interval between two virtual smokes to sixty minutes now and her body seemed to take it no worse then the day before. Good. He couldn't be sure, but he had the impression that showing her the images while he fed her the nicotine had some effect. Her fingers twitched slightly and her hands moved a little.

�

That she might still have problems inhaling real smoke when and if she would smoke a cigarette kept nagging on him. Then he remembered an add on one of the smoker sites he had been visiting in cyberspace. What if? Could it work? It would mean taking enormous chances and it would also mean he would have to stretch his credit at the bank. Then he decided to throw all his eggs in one basket. Ever since he had started his little experiment he had felt better than in ages. He had slept well and his usual depressive mood had evaporated. He searched the web till he found it. The add said it was the perfect air purifier. It would enable the customer to smoke in a smoke free environment without leaving a trace of smoke. The package consisted of a small purifier, some tubing and a transparent plastic tent big enough to cover the head and rump of the smoker. The purifier would absorb all the air and smoke from under the tent, clean it up and blow it out in the room odorless, while pumping fresh air under the tent to replace the absorbed smoke. The manufacturer guaranteed that no trace of smoke could be smelled outside the plastic hood. It would cost him a small fortune, but it seemed worth the effort.� With the help of this machine he would be able to make the woman breath in real cigarette smoke, without making her room smell of it. Without hesitation he ordered it. The manufacturer guaranteed 24h delivery, so he would have at least four days to get her used to real smoke. He still had to devise a way to feed her cigarette smoke, but that seemed easy. He needed an oxygen mask and a length of tube. A little valve might be helpful too.

His shift ended and he snatched an oxygen mask and other tidbits he hoped would be helpful from the supply room. At home he was too excited to sleep. He started to build the smoking mask. He chose a tube that could hold a cigarette. He always kept cigarettes at home in the vain hope he might be able to help out a visitor, preferably female, who ran out of cigarettes. Now they came very handy. He found a tube that had the right diameter. Then he took a little adjustable three-way valve and attached the tube to it. Its purpose was to allow for modifying the ratio between air and smoke. Without it, the undiluted smoke might choke her. Next came the one-way valves. One that would stop her from blowing into the cigarette instead of sucking the smoke out, the other to allow her to breath out but not in. With the help of adhesive compound he attached all these pieces to the mask. The last part was the most difficult one. He would have to break a principle of his and accept some very nasty side effects, yet he saw no other way. He had to test the mask on himself. Most of all he had to adjust the three-way valve for the optimum air/smoke ratio. The he remembered something and inserted a second three-way valve in the holder tube. It wouldn't do to make her inhale with every breath so the additional valve would bypass the cigarette entirely.

He gathered all his courage and after the fumes of the adhesive had evaporated, he decided it was time for the trial. He discarded the thought of using herbal cigarettes. It had to be Full Flavored ones, the same he had left at her apartment and the same he would use on her. He had only once puffed on a cigarette before, without inhaling. He had simply no idea what it would be like. Yet to feel what a smoker feels when smoking was enticing. He pushed the elastic strap over his head and placed the mask in position. He breathed a little, to see how it felt. Without a cigarette in the tube, he had no difficulty breathing. Then something occurred to him. He would have to somehow protect her nostrils. Breathing in smoke thru the nose didn't seem appropriate to him. For now it would have to do. He could consciously breathe thru the mouth only. With trembling hands he took a Marlboro Red from the package and fixed its cork end into the tube. The he took the lighter and fired it. He had enormous difficulties to place the flame at the end of the cigarette. Then with determination he inhaled. Nothing. Then he remembered the valves. He closed the one that was meant to bypass the cigarette entirely. Then he chose the middle position for the mixing valve. Inhale. He tasted the smoke. Bitter, but bearable. He had expected worse. Exhale. Smoke filled the mask and billowed out of the exhaust valve. It tickled down the throat but not much. He had expected to choke or gag or get sick, but he felt close to nothing. Holding his breath, he closed the mixing valve a bit more. Another inhale. This time he felt it. The blood rushed to his head. He felt dizzy. The sensation wasn't bad, thou. At most he grew uncomfortable, but just a little. He exhaled and he could see the smoke was denser. Then he opened the bypass to catch his breath. He counted four in out cycles then closed the bypass and inhaled, this time as deep as he could. He didn't gag, but he could feel the rasp on his throat. Somehow it felt pleasant. Maybe a bit like from a menthol candy, even thou the cigarettes had no menthol in them. The rush to his head was stronger now. He felt a touch of nausea. Still, he couldn't and wouldn't stop now. He would finish off the cigarette like a man! He had often felt less virile in front of girls for not being a smoker, like those muscle-ridden schoolmates of his that would smoke, drink, swear and get all the girls. Damn! He had to finish this. So he did. He grew dizzier and to room tended to slide to one side and he was sick like a dog, but he didn't have to puke. To his utter surprise he found that even with all the nausea, he had a hard one. He took off the mask and stubbed out the cigarette that had burnt down to the filter. The nausea passed quickly and he felt elated. He had survived and smoking his first cigarette had proved to be quite pleasant at times. He still had a hard one and he went to the bathroom and jerked off. The taste of the smoke in his mouth and his pounding heart inspired him. Now he knew how a girl who started smoking felt!

�As soon as the air purifier arrived, he would use the mask on Susan. She would smoke several cigarettes each night in her sleep. When she would wake up, she would be ready. He could only hope she would develop cravings strong enough to make her wonder what's amiss. With a bit of luck, he might get friendly with her and drop a hint or too. He rubbed his palms. The nausea had disappeared leaving behind a state of excitement. Now he understood the fascination of smoking much better. Maybe one day... But no! He wouldn't. Not him. He yearned to live on second hand smoke. That would have to be enough. Maybe share one after sex, or share smoke during kissing. That might be a pleasant experience. But he would never actively smoke himself. To his surprise the air purifier arrived that very day. He unpacked it to give it a try. He attached all the tubes and plugged the cord of the purifier into the wall. He spread the plastic bag over the table and propped it up in the inside with some books. He took a cigarette and lit it, carefully avoiding to inhale. Then he left it smoldering in an ashtray under the plastic bag. It worked. Even with his nose stuck into the exhaust of the purifier he could smell nothing. Good. Then something else struck him. The plastic bag was way too small. He couldn't squeeze in and operate the valves. Now what? Then it came to him! Yes, of course! An oxygen tent! They had lots of them. All he had to do was to attach the tubes of the purifier to it. He dismantled the original bag and stashed away the purifier and the tubes in his backpack. After a detour to Susan's apartment, to fetch two packs of cigarettes from the carton he had left there and to deposit some lighters, he arrived at the hospital to begin his shift. To his dismay there was some activity going on, obviously a crisis of one of the other patients that had sat in while he was away. He could just visit Susan and wait for things to calm down so he would remain alone and undisturbed.

He had to wait an hour till the doctors decided to move the critical patient to intensive care. He was alone again and could start! He fetched an oxygen tent from the supply room. The tubes from the air purifier fitted perfectly to the tent, so no problem there. He carried the equipment to room number ten. Then he spread the tent over her bed and attached the purifier. He switched it on and armed with his visor, the DVD player, smoking mask and the cigarettes he crawled under the tent. He fixed the mask on her face. Then he placed the visor over her eyes. He lit a cigarette and attached it to the mask. So far so good! He started the smoking clip and closed the bypass on the mask. Her breath was pretty shallow, as it was normal for her condition, but finally the cherry of the cigarette started to glow. She was taking in the smoke! Instantly he had a hard one. As best as he could he stretched to watch the monitor. He could barely make out the display beyond the transparent plastic sheet of the tent, but then he saw her values weren't rising not even to the level they had with the intravenous nicotine. So she could take a bit more. Good! He opened the bypass and adjusted the mixing valve to allow for a denser smoke. This did the trick. He could see how her heartbeat speeded up. He started the player to project the smoking images. While he watched the clip on the display of the player, he tried to synchronize the bypass with the movements of the woman in the clip. To his surprise Susan obviously did something similar. She would breathe in when the woman in the clip would inhale, exhale at the same time and even make sucking moves with her lips, like she tried to drag on a non-existent cigarette. This was beyond his expectations. So the optics had done it! Susan would most probably act like a long time smoker if he could talk her into lighting up a cigarette.

Happy about the success he decided he would be bold and make her smoke another cigarette. He restarted the clip and fed her a second cigarette. A look at the monitor reassured him. Her vitals were still OK. He would have loved to stay with her, but he had his duties. God forbid something happened to another patient! Reluctantly he removed the tent, just in case someone would drop in, but he hid it behind her bed, as he planned to use it about every hour. He left the purifier switched on, as the smoke under the tent hadn't been totally removed. He would have to wait a while after he had made her smoke next time. With all his technical helpers stashed out of sight, he started for his round.

That night he had managed to feed her twelve cigarettes and judging by her vitals, she had reacted just fine. Her body accepted the nicotine quite naturally. At home another idea popped up. He would build a double holder so he could make her smoke more in the same interval of time. His goal was to reach at least a pack of cigarettes each night. That, so he hoped, would leave her with serious cravings, strong enough to make her seek relief which he than would provide. He wondered if she wouldn't suffer from cravings already during the day, when nobody was giving her nicotine. Then he had another of his brilliant ideas. At the beginning of his shift he had always found a supply of perfusion bottles prepared for him. He always tried to be nice to his colleagues, so he replaced the bottles he had used up with fresh ones. Why not adding nicotine to the infusion? If he did it with great care nobody would notice the small puncture in the rubber plug of the bottle. This way she would get her nicotine during the day too. A bottle would empty in about two hours, so he would add the equivalent of four cigarettes to each bottle.

In the night he continued feeding her cigarettes, this time using the double holder, so he managed to feed her a whole pack. Additionally he added nicotine to all the bottles waiting to be fed to her veins.

Having achieved all he had proposed, he could sleep thru the day now. In the afternoon he decided to test the air in her apartment. When he entered her living room he immediately found he needed to add some more smoke. He wanted to start but to his dismay he found he had forgotten the rubber ball. What was there to do? Reluctantly he admitted he had no choice as to smoke himself. Well, what the heck, he thought. I did it once, I can do it again. And he lit a cigarette. To his total surprise he didn't feel any of the side effects of the first time. It occurred to him that he had gotten quite a load of second hand smoke under the tent while feeding Susan. So he enjoyed his cigarette and then decided to light another one. On second thoughts, he lit four cigarettes and left them to burn down on their own. He would throw the butts away. The second cigarette went a little to his head, but no nausea. Well, he had done it and could leave for work.

In her file he found a remark from her doctor:

Over all progress very good.

Heart beat and blood pressure slightly increased.

Cease of sedation.

Start of liquid nutrition.

He looked at her. Yes, she had a rosy complexion. She moved in her sleep.

Now what? Even if his treatment had been successful and she would wake up with strong cravings, it would be difficult if not impossible to make her smoke in bed. He could not go on feeding her nicotine thru the perfusion. The perfusion had been removed while he was away. The best thing he could hope for was that the cravings would last till he found a way to make her smoke cigarettes. He could use the tent and the air purifier, but how would she react. Let's wait and see, he said to himself.

When he came back after an hour, still not sure what his next move might be, he found her awake.

'Hello there. You've cared to join us? Welcome back among the living.' He tried to sound as friendly as he could. She cleared her throat and had some difficulty speaking at first.

'Hi. Where am I? What happened' Good! He was the first person she would talk to. That always had a strong impact on somebody who awoke from a coma, even thou it could backfire.

'Oh, you don't remember much, do you?'

'No, not really. Did I have an accident?'

'Yes.'

'Am I hurt badly?'

'Well, let me put it this way. It's been close, but you're much better now. You will be your old self again soon. No permanent damage.' Liar! If I'm lucky enough, you will at least have a new habit. He grinned inwardly.

'Ugh, my head is killing me.' She felt for the bandage on her head. 'I've been hurt here.'

'Yes, I'm afraid so, but you needn't worry. They have kept you under sedation for a while, so the wound would heal better. Everything's fine now. With luck you'll be jogging around this place in a couple of days.'

'For the moment I would be happy if I could use the restroom on my own.'

'Well, I can help you with that one, that's what I'm here for. I'm sorry that there is no female nurse here right now.'

'Oh! I thought you're a doctor.'

'No. It flatters me you took me for one, but no, I'm just the slob that does the dirty work at night.' she smiled.

'Well then, nurse, can you help me to the restroom?'

'I'm not sure you're supposed to walk on your own yet. Besides, after more than two weeks on tube feed you'll lack the strength.'

'Too bad. I'd hate to use a bedpan. I remember... Hey, I remember how I hated that when I had my appendicitis.' she looked puzzled. 'Funny, I guess I've lost my memory or a part of it...'

'Don't fret about your memory. It'll come to you. I cases like yours it's quite common to have a temporary amnesia.' he tried to sound reassuring. In fact he hoped she would never recover her memory completely. Else she might yet realize she never had been a smoker and his plan might fail.

�'Hey, I have an idea. I'll fetch you a wheel chair. That way we'll manage to get you to the toilet.'

'That would be nice.'

When he returned she had fallen asleep again. She didn't sleep well, thou. He waited patiently till half an hour again she woke up.

'Yellow cab at your service, ma�m.' she laughed and with joint forces they managed to get her to the bathroom and back.

'Thank you. It's good to know I can do that. You were right, I'm terribly week, but 'Ill fight that. I hate to stay helpless in bed.'

'I'm sure you'll make it. Is there anything else I can do for you?'

'I'm not sure. Now that I'm awake, I feel a strange need to do something, but I don't know what that would be. It's like being hungry or thirsty, but it's neither of them. My throat is sort of dry and my palms and soles are itching. Do you think that comes from the accident?'

'I wouldn't really know. I'm just a male nurse. It maybe connected to your injury but then it can also be something entirely different.' he knew or hoped he knew what it was. Cravings! 'And you really don't know what it is?'

' No. But then I don't seem to remember much anyway. It's all very hazy...' her voice trailed off like she already had something else on her mind. 'No, that can't be... Yet...' she kept murmuring to herself like she wasn't sure whether her memory was accurate or played tricks on her. Clouds of bafflement, then determination, again doubt and anger chased each other on her face. Then she raised her face towards him again.

'Forgive me, but I think I'm taking up too much of your time.'

'Oh no, not at all. I love the night shift because it�s always very quiet. I can stay here for at least another hour. My beeper here informs me of any emergency.'

She smiled at him.

'Oh thank you. It's very kind of you to stay with me.'

Then she fell into her former cycle of doubt fear and confidence again. Finally she raised her voice again

'I think I'm going crazy. There are two memories in my head that fight each other. On the one hand I'm sure I never picked up a certain habit. Yet I also recall having the habit. It's almost like I remember how it felt.' she fell silent again.

'Oh that? I've read it's not uncommon to feel that way in your condition. Can you tell we what it is? Maybe I can help.' it took him quite some self-control to keep his excitement out of his voice.

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe I have the habit and it�s not something I'd want others to know. It isn't something to be proud of.' she looked away, like she was a bit ashamed. 'I got to do something about this dry throat of mine. Can I have a drink?'

'I'll fetch you some tea. I must apologize. I haven't been prepared for you to wake up.'

'Oh, you don't have to excuse yourself. Yes, tea would be fine.'

He ran to the tiny kitchen and took a thermos flask and a cup. When he returned he found her asleep again. She fidgeted in her sleep and after about ten minutes she woke up again. He gave her a cup of tea. She gulped it down thirstily.

'Thank you. That was good.' a pensive look towards him. 'Still, I miss something else. If only I knew what. My throat still is kinda dry and now and then a heat wave passes over me. I'm unsettled and restless. You have any ideas?'

'From the way you describe it... I know what makes me feel that way, but I don't believe that applies to you. No that, can't be.' he felt he had to approach the subject very carefully.

'Then tell me, what is that?'

'Oh, err, I really shouldn't. I'm not proud of it.'

'Oh c'mon, please?'

'Very well then. I feel that way when I get cravings.'

'Cravings? What kind of cravings?'

'You know, for a fag.'

'A fag? Oh, you mean a cigarette? No you can't mean that!' she looked angry now. He couldn't help but to notice how lovely she looked, now that she was awake. The more he wanted his plan to work out. She had lost some weight and apart from a certain haggardness, she looked very sexy, as much as woman clad in a hospital smock can look like anything. He could make out her slightly erected nipples thru the thin fabric.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. I just how it feels when I, you know...'

'Oh, no, I'm not angry with you. I'm cross because I can't really get my memories in line. It�s almost like I'm schizophrenic and one of the characters I'm impersonating is a heavy smoking bad girl and the other the typical good girl.'

'You can't be serious. It would break my heart to find out there's two of you in one body' he said, teasing her. She laughed.

'You must be quite desperate to flirt with a sick girl like me.' she teased back

'Well, you shouldn�t be that modest. I can imagine that without that turban of yours you have to carry some anti-person device all the time to drive off all the admirers.'

She blushed.

'You're doing me more credit than I deserve. My last boyfriend left me for a little redheaded one and I swear she didn't look all that good. That means I must look even worse.'

'No way, Susan. Oh sorry. Hope you don't mind I call you that way. I'm Florian. Please call me Flo like everybody.'

'Oh no, please call me Susan, Flo.' she fell silent again. Then after a while she whispered:

'Could it really be that I was both a smoker and a non-smoker at the same time?'

'Well, you could have been a closet smoker. I have stumbled upon a message board on the web where quite a number of people talk about that topic. It's seems that even in some couples it happens that one of them smokes secretly and his or her partner doesn't even know about it.'

'So you think it is possible I smoked secretly and played the non-smoker for the rest of the world?'

'Yes, that may well be.'

'Weird...' she fell into a brooding mood. He decided to leave her alone for the rest of the nights. He wanted her to recover quickly. During the rest of his hourly rounds he found her sleeping.

He counted the hours till his next shift and even arrived half an hour early. The nurse from the day shift seemed eager to get home so he offered to take over earlier. This would give him some extra time to spend with Susan.

'Hi, how are you today?'

'Oh, thank God you don't use that stupid we and I'm fine thanks. I managed to make a few steps on my own and see here, no turban any more.' indeed she had a scarf on her head. The bandage had been removed. My hair looks pretty punkish, but it'll grow again.' then a cloud passed over her face. 'Yes, I'm fine, but I still have those cravings as you call them. I've asked the doctor, but he couldn't tell me more then you already did. I've asked him outright if it could be that I have been a smoker and forgotten about it and he said weirder things have happened to patients with brain damage. So I'm in the same fix like yesterday. Except when I sleep, half the time I dream that I'm smoking. And mostly I dream I'm with another girl who smokes too.' Bingo! He wanted to cry out. The video had worked. 'Wish there was a way I could find proof for whether I did smoke or not. Doctor says there's no blood test for it and as for the lungs, he said that even after thirty years of heavy smoking you couldn't really see that much on an X-ray. Such a shame!' she had chirped out happily at first, but towards the end she had more and more taken up an angry undertone. Time to offer help.

'Well, I might be able to think of some little tests. Nothing spectacular, but it may prove helpful.'

'But the doctor said...'

'Yeah I know, but I wasn�t thinking of the medical side.'

'Then what?'

'Oh, circumstantial evidence.'

'Like?'

'Like looking into the purse you had upon you when you had your accident, like when you get home you search the place you live in for cigarettes or butts or other evidence.'

'Mmh... I see. That's not stupid. Still... Well even if I find cigarettes in my purse or in my apartment, that's not absolute proof. It could be I was carrying them for somebody else, or maybe I had visitors who smoked, or ...'

'Yes, that's true. Still, there is of course an almost foolproof test, only I hardly dare to mention it....'

'Now don't play games with me. I want to know!'

'OK, the easiest way is to try and smoke a cigarette.' There! He had said it.

'Are you nuts! Here in a hospital?' she sounded real angry.

'Oh no wait, that�s not what I wanted to say. I just meant it hypothetically. Of course I didn't suggest to do it here.' she still sulked and looked away.

'You asked, I answered. I mean that still is the only way. If you never smoked, all that will happen is that after a few drags you will get sick and you can forget the whole thing. Smoking a single cigarette doesn't do you any harm. It takes weeks to start a nicotine addiction. You wouldn't take any chances by just trying. If you are smoker, you will know it immediately and you will simply enjoy your smoke.' he hoped he sounded convincing enough. She cocked her head and gave him an inquisitive look.

'Maybe you are right. But it will have to happen soon. I just don't want to wait any longer. Still, I'm not sure I want to do it. I'll think about that. But then tell me, do you smoke?' tough one. He had smoked only a couple of cigarettes so far. He thought he could pose as a smoker, but would it be advisable? Then on an impulse:

'Yes, I'm afraid I am.'

'Strange, I would have expected to smell it on you.'

'Oh, well, I don't really smoke that much.'

'Mmmh, so you're the kind of smoker I could tolerate.' she yawned. 'I'm afraid I'm still pretty weak. Our little talk has drained me. Sorry, but I could use a nap.'

'Oh, forgive me I've I have tired you.' this caused her to smile. She really had a nice smile.

'Oh, c'mon, I enjoyed talking to you. You're practically the only human being here. All the others treat me like a patient but not like a human. Yaiks! We'll do this, we'll do that, we'll go pee, we will eat. They don't even listen when you tell them something. But now I really need to sleep.'

He left her alone and went to his cubicle.

The hours passed painfully slow in between his rounds. At five in the morning he found her awake.

'Hey, I thought you needed some sleep?' he greeted her.

'Oh, well I guess I had enough so far. Remember, I've overslept two full weeks.'

'True enough. Can I do something for you?'

'Well I've done some thinking mostly about what you said before and I think you're right. Tell you what. Can you go fetch my purse?'

'Be back in a minute.' He ran at his top speed to the storage room and back to her bed. He had brought two packs of Reds 100 and some disposable lighters with him that day. Hastily he tore one pack open, extracted a couple of cigarettes and stuffed it into her purse together with a lighter. Good that he had thought of the cigarettes. Back to her room he handed her the purse. She opened the zipper and stared in disbelief at the pack of cigarettes.

'That can't be.' She shook her head. 'I still see myself as a determined anti-smoker... But then my fingers are itching and my throat longs for it...' she stared at the purse. 'You said you smoke yourself. Is there a place here where smokers go when they need a cigarette?'

'Oh, there's a balcony at the end of the hall. That's where I go.' Liar! That�s where you would if you were a smoker.

'You think we could sneak out and make the test? Those cravings you talk about torment me all the time. I need to find out. Will you help me?'

'You do try me, you know that. If anybody finds out I'll loose my job.'

'Oh please, I won't tell anybody. Please, please.' she begged folding her hands.

'OK. I must be crazy to do this, but all right. Can you get into that wheel chair?'

'Why? I can walk!'

'Yes, I know you can walk, but it's regulations. If anybody sees us, it's better that way.'

She gave in and he wheeled her to the balcony.

It was the ideal place for a nightly escapade. A high balustrade made of concrete surrounded it. Nobody would see anything from below.

He pushed her chair near a bench alongside the wall. There was an empty but stained ashtray there, proof that this was indeed someone's smoking place. She held the purse in her lap for a while, lacking the courage to do it. Then, with a sigh, she extracted a cigarette and placed it between her lips. Her hand shook slightly from suppressed emotion when she fired the lighter and held the flame to the tip of the cigarette. As if she had done this all her life she dragged on the cigarette and inhaled in one smooth move. She held down the smoke for a while like she expected something to happen. Then she released the smoke slowly thru her half opened lips. Flo sat there transfixed. She mastered it like a pro. She took another drag and without waiting to exhale she talked straight at him, engulfing him with the smoke:

'Gosh, it's true. It feels so damn good! You were right. I must be a smoker. I feel my cravings vanish.' She took another drag, longer this time.

'Mmmmh, that's delicious.' She exhaled a long and dense stream. The cherry of her cigarette grew longer from her thirsty drags. Flo felt a heat wave flow over his entire body. He had to double down to hide the bulge in his pants. It paid off! She took up smoking as naturally as she had been smoking all her life. But he had to do something against his excitement lest he would give himself away. Maybe he would tell her one day how he felt about women smoking, but it was a long way to that moment. Then it came to him naturally. He would smoke a cigarette alongside her.

'Oh, I'm sorry to ask, but could I have a cigarette? I forgot mine on my desk.'

She gave him a happy look.

'Yes, by all means, help yourself.' She extended the package. 'This way I won't feel so awkward.' He took the cigarette and accepted a light from her. It made him a little dizzy, but at the same time he could feel the knot in his stomach dissolve. With every drag he relaxed more, till he regained his self-control and could make his dick shrink. She had finished her cigarette in a very short time. Now she played a bit with the pack. Then with some resolution in her voice she said:

'What the heck! I can as well have another one. I won't have another opportunity like this till tonight. You are on duty tonight, aren't you?'

'Oh yes, certainly. I've made a deal with them. I do the night shift exclusively. Eight hours of night shift every day. It doesn't bother me. They're happy and I'm happy. Besides it pays.'

'What about your girlfriend or your friends?'

'Nada. I live alone. I have only moved here recently. All the friends I need I find in cyberspace. I have a terminal in the nurses room and in between my rounds I can chat and surf or watch movies. That's all I need.'

'Now you don't mean to tell me a handsome guy like you has no girlfriend?'

'No ma�m. I don't. It didn't work out for me. Not yet.'

'I hope you're not a freak.' She said laughing. The cigarettes loosened her up and she sounded cheerful.

'Nope, straight as a rope. I'm hetero all right. Not that it did me any good. Three month was the longest time I could hold on to a girl. And the last time was two years ago.' And that was the naked truth, he thought. He started to like the turn their conversation took.

'Poor guy. You deserve better.'

'Thank you, you're too kind. I hope you pardon me if I'm indiscrete, but what about you?'

'Oh, pretty much the same. I don't remember it exactly that way, but probably I feared someone might find out my little secret.' She pointed up her cigarette. 'Anyway, I've lived pretty much like a nun most of the time. And one night stands aren't on my wish list.'

'Know what you mean. I couldn't do that either.'

She finished off her second cigarette and yawned.

'Sorry. Guess I could use some more sleep.' She said

'It will do you good. Sleeping always helps the healing process.'

'Let's hope so. I want to get out of here as soon as I can. It's so boring.'

He thought of something. If he was cunning enough... He had a sizeable collection of DVDs at home and also he had bought a new computer recently. It would take one hell of an effort, but with luck he could do it... He had the visor and the Player, but all depended on whether she was a movie fan like him.

'I can imagine that. Tell me something, do you like to watch movies?'

She smiled.

'Do I like movies? I'm addicted. I never can get enough. Wish I could afford more channels. Before this all happened I was on the verge of buying a DVD player. My old VCR broke down and I thought of replacing it with a DVD player. I can as well rent disks instead of tapes.'

'Then I might be able to help. I love movies too and I even have a brand new portable player. The screen's too small to really enjoy a movie, but I have a visor. If you put that one on, it's like you're in the first row of a movie theater. You can have it tonight. Hope you'll like the movies I have.'

'That would be so sweet of you. Thank you so much. Don't worry about the movies. Anything except X and B-rated action movies will do. I love them all.'

'Well it's settled then. Wanna go back to your room?'

'Yes please.'

At home he started to work on a movie. He had the idea to insert single frames with smoking related pictures. The so-called subliminal perception. He had no idea if it would have any effect on her, but he wanted to try it. After sweating for two hours he managed to bring together a reasonable result. He watched the movie and he could see no difference, except he indeed felt like lighting a cigarette. Very good! The movie would help keeping her cravings up. He needed to get some sleep.

When he gave her the gear that night he got a peck from her. He almost got a hard one. He was getting involved faster then he wanted. What if would fall in love with her, but she wouldn't want him? All the effort for nothing! But there wasn't anything he could do about it. Either she liked him or not. Sexual attraction wasn't something one could achieve. It was there or not. That much he had learnt and the hard way too.

Once, in high school, he had dated the girls of his dreams. She was brilliant, beautiful and her body was the incarnation of the original sin. They were both very young and inexperienced. They dated, they started kissing and they almost made it into bed. Yet, while she really liked him, it seemed to him she never got really hot. She accepted his endearments, but she was somewhat passive. Then one day he saw her with another guy. She denied anything was going on, but then, two days later, he stumbled upon the two engaged in a hot embrace, lips glued two each other and hands in hidden places. It took him two years to recover. The pain was buried deep down, but he would never forget how it had felt.

Susan insisted on watching a movie right away, so he left her. After an hour or so he had just finished his second round of the night when she buzzed him.

She was already sitting in the wheelchair. Her face looked a bit hot. Obviously she really had enjoyed the movie, the part she had seen anyway.

'Now I know why I'd rather watch movies on tape or TV. They don't have smoking breaks in movie theaters.' She laughed. 'Now put the hammer down, cabbie, no time to waste.' again she broke into a cheerful laughter. He complied gladly, knowing where she was eager to go to. On the balcony, she immediately reached for her pack of cigarettes and smoked the cigarette with long thirsty drags.

'Gosh, how I needed that! I keep discovering new sides to my character. Obviously watching a movie makes want to smoke badly.' she smoked incessantly, hardly pausing to breath in between drags. The urge to kiss her, to crush her lips with his, to envelope her tongue with his, to suck on her smoke ridden breath was almost too much. Yet he had to play cool. A cigarette seemed the only possible remedy. This time he didn�t have to beg for a cigarette as he had brought his own pack.

'Hey cool, we smoke the same brand!' she exclaimed, seeing him take out his pack of Reds. Wouldn't you know baby! He laughed inwardly.

'Oh yeas, I've noticed that yesterday.'

To his surprise, it was for her to make the first move. She extended a hand and started to stroke his cheek lightly.

'God Flo, I wish I were healthy. You're the nicest guy I've ever met. Maybe, after I get out of here...' Flo blushed. He couldn't help it. He felt a warm sensation engulf him. It seemed an age ago since a girl had been nice to him. He couldn't bring out a word. Instead, he took her hand and kissed her. The answer was an amused and slightly naughty smile from her. With a voice hoarse from emotion she whispered:

'Is that the best you can do for a lonely girl?' then she leant over and with one hand behind his head she pushed him till their lips met. It was explosive! Her soft lips, her tongue moving expertly against his, so warm and moist, the smell of cigarette smoke and the hand flat on his cheek! He felt the soft pressure of the cork end of the cigarette against his cheek. His dick felt like bursting. They went on like that for a while. He could feel her excitement by the tremor of her shoulder. It was so rewarding to know he could make this woman get excited over him! Finally they separated, panting. She looked into his eyes with the intensity he had seen only when girls looked at their boyfriends. Never had any girl before looked like that at him.

'Time for the cigarette after!' she exclaimed happily. He had no option but to join her. They both lit up.

'Err, could it be that you've got something wrong here?'

'What you mean?'

'Oh, err, about the after stuff.'

'What after stuff?'

'Well, you just talked about the cigarette after, but we're still at the before.'

She burst into a laughing fit.

'The one after the before. That's good. I like that.'

'Well, not that I mind that you smoke before, after the before, during or after the after. Just thought I'd put things right.'

'So you think I don't know the difference between a kiss and a lay?' she said in mock rage. 'Let me tell you somth'n buster. I may have lived in celibacy the last two years, but I'm not a virgin. Don't tell ME about before and afters!'

'Oh pardon me, Madam.' I didn't know I'm dealing with a Kamasutra expert. He made a mock bow.

'Don't you smartass on me buster, I ain't nuthin' to do with no Carmer Sutter or whatever his name is. I'm just a plain old hooker.' they laughed again till they fought for air. Now he dared to kiss her again. She met him half the way and they kissed frantically.

'Wow, I never thought I'd start a romance in a hospital!' she exclaimed cheerfully.

'Neither did I. Does it bother you?'

'I wouldn't mind to start a romance on a dump if it were Mr. Right.' She lit another cigarette.

'I'm sorry to tell you Mr. Right is on a sabbatical. He sent me to keep his stool warm.' He tried to look as sober as he could.

'Too bad! You'll have to work hard to stand up to my standards, Mister!' she chuckled.

'Madam, I will go out of my way.' This was fun. He felt better and better in her company.

'Now let's drop the nonsense.' she said, sobering up. 'Promise me one thing.'

'Anything.'

'Don't joke on me stupid! I mean it! Just promise me you won't forget me the day they kick me out of here.'

He kissed her once more, trying to put as much passion as he could bring up into the kiss.

'My silly Darling. Do you think I'm gonna simply let you walk away? You will have to sue me for stalking if you ever want to get rid of me.' She laughed, but her eyes swam. When she spoke, her voice was weak with emotion.

'You're making fun of me.'

He decided to go dramatic and knelt before her. Then he took her hands in his, careful not to disturb her burning cigarette she held between her fingers. He dug for his most sincere voice.

'Look Susan. I love you. Sometimes I find it easier to joke around something serious, but I do mean it. Already I feel like I've known you all my life. This is the first time I've met a girl like you and I'd rather shoot myself than let you go. Maybe it won't work out, but we have to give it a try.'

No she was really crying. Between sobs, she gasped out:

'Oh my God, you're too good to be true. I had given up all hope prince charming would ever show up and now you come along. I'm so afraid I'll be disappointing you. What if I prove to be a miserable lover? What if you'll hate my smoking? What if I snore in my sleep? Why you haven't even seen my hair.'

He took her in his arms.

'Hush, darling, don't cry. You don't have to worry. If your hair turns me off, you can always dye it. About love making, I guess I'm the one to worry more. Still I believe if we really love each other we will find a way. I doubt you snore. Don�t forget I had enough time to watch you sleeping. And last but not least, don't forget I smoke too, so you don't have to fret about that one.' And I'd rather become a smoker too, rather then loose you, he added in his mind. He kissed her tears away.

'God, am I stupid! Man I'm a complete moron!'

She jolted from his unexpected outburst.

'Why, what's wrong?'

'Why the heck are you staying in that freaking wheelchair? You don't have to. Why don't you sit here with me.' She broke into laughter.

'I�m at least as stupid as you.' She jumped up and threw herself directly on his lap. Instead of answering, he started to kiss her and his hands explored her body. God, how good that was. He fondled her wonderful breasts, big and firm, with hard nipples, he caressed her hips and her back. He felt how she grew excited and he thought to feel the tiniest spot of wetness under her buttocks. Yet he didn't want to go all the way. It just didn't seem appropriate. Like she had the same thoughts, she drew away and groped for another cigarette. Still in his arms, she smoked in silence for a while, carefully blowing the smoke away from him. On an impulse, he gently took her face in his hands and turned it while she exhaled, so he got all the smoke in his face. After she finished her exhale he gave her a peck on her lips. She raised her brows in confusion.

'Look, before this goes any further, you must know something. I like it when you blow the smoke in my face. In fact I like it when you smoke. It kinda turns me on. If you wanna stay with me, you'll have to live with that too.'

A wrinkle appeared between her brows. She looked away and smoked in silence for a while. Then she took an enormous drag and pressed her lips against his. She kissed him hard while blowing smoke into his mouth. After a while she withdrew and blew the rest of the smoke into the air.

'Does that turn you on?' she asked giving him a stern look.

'Yes' he could only whisper. Suddenly she exploded in laughter. She could hardly calm down.

'You little fool you! I was dieing to do that from the start. I think I'm prepared to do almost anything that pleases you. For a moment you scared me. I had a horrid vision of chains, rubber clothes and whips. If all I have to do is smoke to turn you on, I warn you, you'll run around with your flagpole up all the time.' She gave him another smoky kiss, this time a real passionate and tender one.

'Look honey, you don't have to do this all the time. I love it but I don't want you to force yourself to do it. You make me hot even when you don't smoke. I guess I fell for you the first time I saw you. You looked so innocent and frail, I couldn't but like you from the start and that was long before I had any idea you smoke'

She gave him a shy smile

'Whatever you say, Master. Jeannie will obey.' Her face turned radiant. He laughed.

'That's my Jeannie. She knows I'm gonna send her back into her bottle, if she doesn't obey.' Then he looked at his watch.

'Oups, time for my round. Do you want me to take you back?'

'No I'd rather stay here, where I can smoke some more. Now that you've confessed, I don't have to abstain.' Then, looking into her pack:

' Shucks, I don�t have anything left to smoke. Can you help out?'

'Sure. Keep these. I'll get some more tomorrow.'

'But what about you?'

'Oh, I thought maybe you can help me out for the rest of the night.'

'Cute. First you give me your cigarettes, and then you want them back. All right, you can have one or two.' She laughed again.

That night she stayed with him on the balcony, smoking, chatting and kissing. Several times he needed to smoke a cigarette to cool down.

He went home feeling in seventh heaven. Incredible. It had worked out. Not only did she smoke like a chimney now and loved it. The best part of it was that he had confessed his passion for smoking women and she had taken it lightly. God! It was almost too good to be true.

At home, when he woke up, he just had to smoke a cigarette. He hadn't planned it this way, but then, if he were to live with a smoker, it seemed more appropriate if he'd smoke too. He knew that at least part of the reason why it had gone that smooth with Susan was that at least in her eyes they had also the smoking habit in common. He went down to fetch his mail.� Not that he ever got anything other than bills and adds, but an unpaid bill could be a pain in the ass. To his surprise he found a letter from an attorney. Apparently an uncle of his had died and had left him something in his last will. He called the attorney and found out he not only had been gifted with a huge load of cash, but also with some real estate in the south of France, a house in the country side. He had to sit down and gather his thoughts. France! Some time ago he had read a book by a British author named Peter Mayle about his life in southern France. Back then it had seemed as remote to him like a journey to the moon, but suddenly he would be in the position to actually see for himself what the guy in the book had so enthusiastically described. He had, after reading the book, attended some French classes and while his average had been a C, still he thought it wouldn't be impossible... Then he remembered all the bits and piece he had heard about France over the years. Mainly that unlike at home, in France smoking was still socially acceptable. He even remembered something about an unsuccessful smoking ban. Seemingly the law had been dropped after the police had refused to enforce the law. A smoker�s paradise! All that he needed now was to persuade Susan to join him. With this unexpected fortune on his hands he could pay for a modest yet reasonably comfortable life style for both of them. Would Susan, after knowing him for only a couple of days, be ready to join him in such a daring adventure? There was only one way to find out....

That night, on the balcony, he decided to put all his eggs in one basket.

'Hey Susan, what would you say if someone would offer you to live with him in France?'

'France?' she stared at him in disbelief, speechless for a while. He already regretted to have brought up the subject.

'Did you say France?'

'Oh, it's just a hypothetic question.'

'How did you know?'

'Know what?'

'That going to France is the one thing I could kill for. To live in France? I would do almost anything for that. I've read all of Peter Mayle's books ten times over.'

'You're kidding. I'm a fan of Mayle too.'

'No, I'm dead serious. Common ca va? You see, I have even taken French courses. Oh my God, I'd give an arm for a year in the Provence.'

He had to clear his throat several time and drag on his cigarette to steady his nerves. This would decide everything.

'Well, you don't have to cut anything off for that. Just marry me and we can live in France.'

'Oh, cut it out. Don't play with me.'

Again he could hardly speak of emotion. Another cigarette helped.

'Look. I'm dead serious. I have just gotten a letter from an attorney. My uncle died. I had no idea he was rich, but he has left me a small fortune and a house in the Provence, near Avignon. Marry me and we can move there together.'

Suddenly she broke into tears. Between sobs she exclaimed:

'But you don't even know me. What if you find it impossible to live with me?'

'Look Susan, I told you I've fallen in love with you from the first day. I want to make you happy. Please, will you marry me?'

Her sobs subsided and slowly a smile spread on her face. She took him by the ears and pressed her lips against his. Leaning her forehead against his, she whispered:

'Yes, stupid, I will. It's crazy, but I can't help it. I have been a coward all my life, but this is too much. Yes, I'll marry you.'

They celebrated their engagement with a kiss and somehow, despite the odd place, they wound up making love. It just came naturally, to celebrate it all.

'Look out, France, we're coming!'

THE END