The Smoking Experiment

This is a tale of a perfectionist, career-focused mother and wife whose life takes an unexpected turn. It's main theme is a character-driven descent into un unknown world, laced with elements of a smoking fetish. A slow burn (no pun intended, or is it?), but with lots of action in the second half. I hope you like it and, as always, feedback is welcome.

The first rays of morning light poured through the windows, painting the spacious bedroom in a warm, golden hue. Julie stood before the full-length mirror, observing her beauty in the sun's glow. She wasn't a particularly vane woman, but she took care about her looks.

Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft, lustrous waves, catching the sunlight and reflecting it back like strands of precious metal. The blue of her large eyes sparkled like gemstones, clear and bright as the summer sky. In her gaze shone the determination and strength of a woman ready to take on the world, and some tiny wrinkles spoke of the stress she must have endured so far achieving her goals. Her face radiated a unique blend of classical beauty and modern allure, the latter accentuated mostly by her full, juicy lips, perfected by the help of subtle fillers, which she considered her only vice.

"Looking good, Jules," she whispered to her reflection, her soft lips curving into a faint smile that belied the fatigue nipping at her consciousness. She turned slightly, admiring the curve of her waist and the toned lines of her body—a testament to the countless hours dedicated to maintaining her fitness. She missed the full glory of her old boobs - breastfeeding two insatiable babies sure had toll on their firmness - but all in all, she still rocked a smoking hot body for a 32 years old mother of two.

Julie's commitment to her health was more than a hobby; it was a declaration of discipline. A pair of well-worn running shoes lay discarded by the door, remnants of the early morning jog that had kick-started her day, their soles bearing the stories of asphalt trails and dew-kissed grass. Her yoga mat, neatly rolled in the corner, awaited the evening's session of stretches and poses that would realign her spirit with her flesh. And then there was her gym bag nearby, always prepared to be picked up when her daily schedule allowed HIIT workout at the local gym.

The piercing shrill of her daughter's voice shattered the fragile calmness she had finally found. "Mommy, are you going to do your stupid exercise thingy again tonight?" The innocent question morphed into a playful taunt. Her daughter, Lily, stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bear with an eerily knowing expression on its face.

"Yes, sweetheart, mommy needs to stay strong and healthy," Julie replied, scooping up her little girl in a smooth motion that showcased the lean muscles rippling under her skin. "It keeps me ready to chase after you and your brother."

"Yay!" her daughter beamed.

As she set her child down, Julie caught her own gaze in the mirror again, steeling herself with a nod. Fitness wasn't just about appearance; it was her fortress against stress, her armor in a ceaseless battle for balance. But even as she admired the results of her dedication, a part of her longed for an hour stolen from the regimented schedule, a moment of respite where the only weight she felt was the comfort of her bedcovers.

"Strong and unstoppable," she murmured, the mantra bolstering her willpower. Yet, somewhere beneath the surface, doubts fluttered like dark moths against a windowpane, seeking escape from the confines of her psyche.

"Unstoppable," she repeated, more firmly this time, her interior monologue a shield against the creeping tendrils of exhaustion.

---

The office buzzed with a serene atmosphere of productivity, the sound of clicking keyboards and low conversations creating a melodic background to Julie's workday. From her comfortable position in the middle-manager's chair, she observed the open-plan space where her team worked together like a finely-tuned engine, their effectiveness a tribute to her guidance. The shining glass award on her desk, proudly displaying her title of 'Manager of the Quarter,' gleamed in the morning sun, casting rainbow reflections on her neatly arranged documents.

"Julie, the Henderson account is all set," her assistant chimed from across the room, his voice cutting through the ambient noise.

"Excellent," Julie responded, her tone crisp and professional as she swiveled in her chair to face him. "Make sure we go over the final figures at the end of the day. Precision is key."

"Will do," he said with a nod, already turning back to his computer.

She let out a silent breath, feeling the familiar surge of satisfaction that came with every small victory. This job, with its relentless demands and intricate challenges, provided more than just a paycheck; it offered stability for her family and affirmed her capability beyond the confines of home.

As lunch hour approached, a group of her colleagues began discussing their afternoon plans, voices carrying over the cubicle walls. "Hey, Julie, you should come with us tonight!" one of them called out, a friendly invitation hanging in the air.

She smiled politely, shaking her head as she gathered documents from her printer. "Thanks, but I'll have to pass. Got to finish the Henderson case."

"Come on, one drink won't kill you," another coaxed, "It's been ages since you let loose with us!"

"Appreciate the offer," Julie maintained, her smile unwavering even as her stomach knotted at the thought. had never held any allure for her, the very idea at odds with the life she carefully curated—a life of discipline and control.

"Maybe next time," she lied smoothly, returning to her sanctuary behind the monitor, where numbers and spreadsheets awaited her undivided attention.

Their eyes bore into her back, silently judging her for abstaining. But Julie knew the consequences of indulgence and the slippery slope it led to. Her parents, despite their love for each other and their only daughter, never quite made it in life - they preferred a simple existence filled with cheap thrills, like indulging in cigarettes and . It was something she could never understand, as the smell of tobacco still made her gag to this day.

Her gaze flicked involuntarily to the window, where the city pulsed with life beyond the safety of her office. She watched as people walked by, some lighting cigarettes, their faces shrouded in smoke. Disgust curled within her at the sight, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her mind, smoking was a toxic weakness that numbed the senses and hindered ambition, a reliance on substances for those who couldn't face the challenges of life on their own.

Just as she was about to steer her attention back to the Henderson account, her phone chimed, jolting her from her reverie.

"George?" Julie answered, attempting to keep her voice steady despite the knot of worry unfurling inside her. Her never called during her working hours.

"It's Tim," he said without preamble, his voice heavy with concern.

"What about Tim?" she asked, her hand clutching the phone tighter, knuckles whitening.

"He's not feeling well," he explained. "School nurse called me a while ago. Fever and vomiting."

An icy chill of fear swept over Julie, too stark against the otherwise warm ambiance of her office. The laughter and chatter of her colleagues felt like a distant echo as she processed the news.

"I'm at a meeting with the publisher, but I can pick him up," her husband continued, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "Doctor's appointment after that."

"No," Julie found herself saying, her tone surprisingly firm. "I'll do it." She ignored the protesting voices in her head reminding her about client meetings and deadlines looming overhead.

"But you've got—"

"I know what I have," she cut him off more abruptly than intended, but she didn't apologize for it. For Julie, family came first—always had—even over her career.

"All right," he agreed after a pause that seemed prolonged by tension and surprise. "Take care."

Just as she hung up with a sigh, her boss barged into her office and gave her a stack of papers, "Julie, uhm, sorry, I know you're busy with the Henderson case, but here are two clients you should urgently check. They may not be eligible for a loan, but we cannot afford to lose their business. Can you take a look at it and find something that works in their favor by tomorrow?"

Julie sighed as she thought, "Another night of work? This is going to be tough."

She a smile and replied, "I'll do my best."

Her boss smiled back and said, "I appreciate it, Julie. I know I can rely on you."

---

The alarm shattered the stillness of predawn, and Julie's sapphire eyes fluttered open with practiced readiness. She rolled from the warmth of the bed, her feet finding the plush comfort of the rug as she slipped into her morning ritual. The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic breathing of her husband George, still ensconced in sleep's embrace.

After working on the two cases her boss had assigned her the day before for an entire evening and well into the night, she awoke after only four hours of sleep to start a new day. She could have slept in and taken it easy, but that just wasn't her way.

"Just a five-mile run, you know how great you'll feel afterwards," she whispered a silent promise to herself. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, a few rebellious strands framing her pretty face. With each stride through the neighborhood, her mind cleared, her fit body moving with the grace of a gazelle.

"Morning, love," George greeted her upon return, his voice rich with affection as he handed her a towel and a freshly prepared smoothie—his part in supporting her tightly scheduled day. She accepted it gratefully, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she saw the blend of her favorite fruits and protein mix swirling in the glass. George always knew how to take care of her in small, loving ways.

Physically, George was very handsome. He had a disarmingly charming smile that softened his rugged features and deep-set eyes that mirrored the calming hue of a tranquil sea. His hair was an unruly mop of curls, which Julie teasingly nicknamed it as his 'writer's mane'. He was tall and well-built - an athletic physique combined with a bit of dad bod - maintained by casual sports rather than a gym regimen.

But it was his personality that truly made him attractive to Julie. George was a man of words and ideas, at once thoughtful and spontaneous, possessing a unique confident calmness that often put others immediately at ease. He was the only person in the world that could calm Julie's panic attacks; she jokingly referred to him as an antidote for her hysteria. As a writer, he earned a bit less than Julie and had a much more flexible schedule, so he did the most of housework.

Their relationship was an unusual symbiosis of two contrasting worlds. Julie, with her meticulous routines and endless lists; George, with his creative chaos and unstructured inspiration. Yet somehow, they found a semi-stable harmony within their differences.

His gaze lingered on her figure, appreciation evident, though shadowed by a hint of concern.

"Thanks, hon," Julie said, pecking him on the cheek. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. But at least Tim is getting enough sleep, which is great news. He'll be fine soon, I think." George said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You've been working late again, did you? Preparing for the quarterly review, or?"

"Shit, the quarterly review," she sighed, her tone light despite the weight of responsibility. "That's still on my to-do list. No, my boss gave some other mess to solve. But yeah, I still have to work on that report."

"Jesus Jules, you'll burn up again if you continue like that," he said worryingly, watching as she gulped down the smoothie before ushering their children to the breakfast table.

"Mommy, will you be at my recital tonight?" their daughter, Lily, asked, hope brightening her features.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart," Julie assured her, the conviction in her voice masking the logistical puzzle she'd already solved in her head.

"Julie..." George began, trailing off as he caught her attention, "Are you sure you can make everything work? You don't have to be superwoman every day."

"George, I've got this," she replied, her tone firm yet warm. "We've been through this; I need to do these things—for me, for us."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken toll her determination took. "Just remember to breathe, okay?"

---

After a long and hectic day at the office, she hurriedly drove back to catch her daughter's school performance. "Hey," George greeted her at the door. "Ready for the recital?"

"Sure," she affirmed, slipping into the role of supportive mother with ease.

In the dimmed auditorium, Julie watched Lily twirl on stage, her heart swelling with pride. Yet within her chest, alongside love, a quiet strain hummed—a melody of exertion only she could hear, its tempo set by the relentless rhythm of her life.

---

"Let's celebrate with some ice cream," George suggested, his words an attempt to inject lightness into the end of a long day.

Julie a smile, nodding. "Ice cream sounds wonderful," she said, though the thought of another task—even one as simple as sitting down for dessert—felt like adding another weight to her already overburdened shoulders.

In the ice cream parlor, while Lily recounted each pirouette with giddy enthusiasm, Julie's mind drifted. She ran through checklists, deadlines, and the evening’s remaining chores. The soft serve in her hand began to melt, unnoticed.

"Julie? You there?" George asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Sorry, just thinking about tomorrow's schedule," she confessed. Her spoon clinked against the glass bowl, a metronome ticking off the seconds of respite before life would once again demand her full attention.

The words slipped out of his mouth like venom, dripping with a twisted sort of admiration. "Always planning, always perfect," he responded with a mixture of resentment and grudging respect.

"George, you know I have to plan my time to perfection," Julie responded to his sarcasm. "There's no room for slip-ups." But deep down, where doubt liked to whisper, she wondered if the price of such meticulous control was too high.

---

On their drive home, they stopped at the red light and a passerby exhaled a cloud of smoke that snaked through their car window, causing Julie to crinkle her nose in distaste.

"George, shut your window. I can't stand that stench," she muttered.

"Oh, you're exaggerating. It's barely there," George retorted, obligingly sealing the window.

Julie released a loud sigh, the residue of the tobacco lingering in the air. Breaking the quiet, George said, "You know, Jules, you don't have to be so rigidly ingrained in your effort to make only the perfect choices. A bit of experimenting can add a dash of excitement to life. Keeps things interesting."

She shot him a dubious look. "Excitement? I've worked too hard for stability, for a life without unnecessary complications. The last thing I need is that stinking shit in my life."

"What? No, I'm not talking about you picking up smoking, silly. But it got me thinking. Look, you can't deny, stepping out of your comfort zone does add some flavor. Like a bit of spice in an otherwise bland dish."

Her gaze softened, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "Well, I'll stick to my gym comfort zone, thank you very much. It's all the spice I need."

George chuckled, steering the car smoothly through the quiet streets. "You're a creature of discipline, Jules. But imagine, just for a moment, if you allowed yourself a little break from the routine. Maybe try something unexpected."

Julie tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. "Like what?"

He shrugged playfully. "Maybe a dance class, or, I don't know, an art class. Something out of the ordinary."

Her eyes sparkled with the prospect. "Dance, maybe. But art? I can't even draw a straight line."

"That's the point! It's about breaking the mold, trying things you never thought you could do," he said, a grin spreading across his face.

She laughed, a lightness in the sound. "I'll think about it. But no promises on the art front."

"Deal," George said, squeezing her hand. "Just remember, life's not all about schedules and perfection. Sometimes, it's the unplanned moments that bring the most joy."

As they pulled into their driveway, the night draped around them like a familiar shroud, the house standing as a testament to the order Julie fervently maintained. Watching Lily dance ahead, Julie mulled over George's words. Maybe a bit of change wouldn't be that bad after all.