So I apologise now, this is my first attempt at writing for nearly 20 years. It's smoking fetish themed, with some peeing. Stay with it...
If you enjoy great, if not, I'm sorry!
Baz
Friday
It was nine-thirty on Friday night. Laura sat there on her old tatty but comfortable burgundy pleather sofa, her sockless feet tucked up under her bum. She was wearing her extra-large red and black Dennis the Menace nightie, the comic nerdy ex-boyfriend had bought for her as a joke birthday present a couple of years ago, just before he dumped her.
There was an almost empty white wine bottle on the occasional table beside her, along with her full ashtray and ¾ empty pack of Marlboro lights. A full large glass of wine was in her right hand, and a freshly lit cigarette in her left. She was ‘balanced’, that is how she saw it at those moments. The television was on with a popular chat show, but she wasn’t concentrating on it. Laura was lost in her own thoughts. It had been a hard day at work. Laura had dealt with two of her most difficult customers today and she was just glad to be at home.
They had both called at just at the wrong time. The first one called regarding a big contract just as she was about to get up and leave the office for her morning ciggy break, which delayed it by 40 minutes. Laura struggles most days to get through the working week with her two hourly ciggy breaks. This had meant she had got rather crotchety with her customer before they had agreed to talk again next week. The customer finally hung up and she could get out of the office and light her needed cigarette.
It didn’t help that her offices smoking policy was a sole bench about 5 minutes walk across the yard. Laura however smoked her cigarette as she strolled across to the yard, looking up at the cloudless sky reflecting in the windows above. Everyone from the office windows could also look down and see who was walking across and when. It was seen by the non-smokers in the office as the smokers walk of shame.
As she had missed the morning cup of tea and ciggy break with her colleagues, it meant she was alone on the bench, with just her thoughts and her cigarette, wishing she had remembered to make a cup of tea.
The frustration of the awkward customer and her need for nicotine, she chained her next ciggy using the last embers of her first one.
Laura sat and smoked the cigarette enjoying the sunshine for a few minutes and time away from the computer screen. It was pleasant to hear birds tweeting in the background. The bench was next to the large red industrial skip bins, so wasn't the most pleasant of smoking areas.
She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the grey breeze block wall beside the bench and before people started looking for her in the office, she started the walk back to her office. Laura classed this as her exercise for the day. She had measured it a few times with those fitbits that are all the rage.She did between 2500 and 3000 steps a day, not quite the 10,000 but three times a day going down two flights of stairs and walking to the bench for her ciggy breaks. She wasn’t really that fat, at least that is what she said to herself, Laura was comfortable with her size an average UK of a 16, however more recently an 18, but still bought size 16 clothes in hope. It would be mentioned by a few of the office bitches behind her back that she was in no way slim.
She almost had another cigarette as ensure she was calm enough to face the barrage of emails created stepping out of the office for 20 minutes , but thought better of it. Lunch and her next cigarette were only an hour and half away.
The other annoyingly timed customer called at ten to five, just as the office was packing up. Laura knew that if she left about 5 minutes early she could firstly have her cigarette sooner, and secondly she could get ahead of the traffic at the entrance to the dual carriageway just outside her office estate. It wasn’t a long commute, but it was made considerably longer if she didn’t escape ‘on time’.
Her problem was that this customer was stateside, in Seattle, and so for them it was the just beginning of the morning. They had all day to chat and discuss their project. It was a difficult project with several vested interests all wanting different things. The only thing Laura wanted now was her ‘going home’ cigarette. They had called yesterday for her at five to five, but she had strategically been halfway out the door as her colleague yelled at her. She pretended she didn’t hear, as the cigarette was removed from her bag as went down the stairs. As soon as she was outside it was lit. And she was gone.
So the call hadn’t started well as they had been disappointed with her not talking to them yesterday. To Laura the sale was important, as was her commission on it, so she went through the motions of being very apologetic to explaining that she would work on getting the corrections to the contract dealt with as soon as possible, being as polite as she could, whilst watching the clock on the office wall tick round.
Her colleagues had all drifted out of the office as it was Friday night. Only her manager remained at the other end of the office.
In preparation for the end of the conversation, she had retrieved her cigarette pack from her large brown bag in the floor and had put them on the desk, “just shortening the time required later on Laura said to herself whilst the customer wittered on about something inconsequential to project, the discussions with the customer went on and on, the cigarette just got pulled further and further out of the pack.
Laura’s manager then walked past, on the way to toilets, with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head at Laura toying with her cigarette in the pack, Laura pushed it back in with a moment of guilt.
Laura finally got the customer to agree to her way of thinking, and the end of the call was achieved. Laura scooped up her bag and jacket put her cigarette in her mouth got the lighter from a denim jacket pocket and made for the door.
The cigarette was lit by the time the office front door closed behind her as she inhaled deeply, exhaled upwards to the sky as her shoulders dropped and Laura relaxed and made for her car. As she reached her blue Corsa, she dropped the cigarette on the floor stubbed it out with her light green Newlook flats, looking down on the ground of the carpark she could see the remainder of this week’s end of work day cigarette stubs. “I must cut down” Laura thought to herself “or move car parking space” seeing the now 5 orange stubs on the ground by the driver’s side door with several more from the previous weeks still in the corner of her parking space.
The Friday night commute was as bad as predicted, but with four smoked cigarettes and her IPod shuffle of cheesy 2000s music she was a happy singing, dancing and smoking with the window down. She had to take a detour on the way home via little Tesco’s at the end of the road to get her weekend cigarettes and a couple bottles of wine.
Some of her friends and colleagues were going out on the town they had Whatsapped each other at lunchtime, but Laura had declined to go out saying she just wanted a night in.
Laura got home, opened her door, walked down the hallway past the living room to put the wine in the fridge, grabbed a cigarette from the kitchen table and lit it. Leaned against the sink and smoked. She used the time to check Facebook and Twitter on her phone. As usual recently no one had messaged her anything useful. She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table and went upstairs. She went to her bedroom, let her mousey brown hair down from its pony tail, untied and climbed out of her green wrap-around work dress and her non-matching blue bra and comfy poker dot granny style knickers, letting them fall to the floor, she then ungracefully attempted to kick the ball of clothe the small distance in to the washing basket beside her wardrobe, leaving the bra and panties balanced the edge of the extremely full basket. ‘Close’ she thought to herself with a smile.
She grabbed her cigarette out of the pack on the bed side unit and lit her first ‘It’s the freaking weekend cigarette’ and turned with her exhale and looked at herself side on in the full size mirror on the wardrobe door. She could see her thighs covered in various bruises even one on her small Eeyore tattoo she got for a dare one drunken Sunday afternoon a few years back, Zoe had the matching Winnie the Pooh on her upper thigh. Most of the bruises came from bumping in to the kitchen table and chairs when drunk she presumed to herself.
She stroked her muffin top belly which lipped over what is now a clear panty line even without clothes on. “That hadn’t been there 3 years ago” she thought to herself as she inhaled her cigarette and subsequently exhaled towards the mirror, then she gently lifted her slightly sagging large breasts and tweaked her large now erect nipples, her breasts were her best asset she reminded herself, when dressed in a certain way- low cut little black dress, push up bra, then she can get the guys to stare with appreciation. She inhaled and then did some well-practiced snap inhales and smoke rings in to the mirror.
Laura balanced the cigarette in the ashtray and retrieved her Denis nightie, dumped on the bedstead in her slightly hungover rush this morning, and put it on. Laura retrieved the cigarette and inhaled, and flumped on to the bed, exhaled the cone of smoke and watched till it hit the bedroom ceiling directly above her head and dissipated, she repeated the large inhale and exhale watching the last bit of smoke bounce off the ceiling. She grabbed her phone, coughed and she sat there on the bed and smoked for a couple of minutes while she ordered her large pizza with extra pepperoni and wedges delivery on her phone app.
She extinguished that cigarette, grabbed and lit her second ‘its the freaking weekend cigarette’ of the evening took a double drag, exhaled, coughed gently, shuffled off the bed, ashed her cigarette and headed downstairs to the kitchen where she dangled the cigarette, opened one of her £6 bottles of chardonnay, poured herself her first large glass of the evening and settled in on the sofa to wait for the pizza delivery guy.
If you enjoy great, if not, I'm sorry!
Baz
Friday
It was nine-thirty on Friday night. Laura sat there on her old tatty but comfortable burgundy pleather sofa, her sockless feet tucked up under her bum. She was wearing her extra-large red and black Dennis the Menace nightie, the comic nerdy ex-boyfriend had bought for her as a joke birthday present a couple of years ago, just before he dumped her.
There was an almost empty white wine bottle on the occasional table beside her, along with her full ashtray and ¾ empty pack of Marlboro lights. A full large glass of wine was in her right hand, and a freshly lit cigarette in her left. She was ‘balanced’, that is how she saw it at those moments. The television was on with a popular chat show, but she wasn’t concentrating on it. Laura was lost in her own thoughts. It had been a hard day at work. Laura had dealt with two of her most difficult customers today and she was just glad to be at home.
They had both called at just at the wrong time. The first one called regarding a big contract just as she was about to get up and leave the office for her morning ciggy break, which delayed it by 40 minutes. Laura struggles most days to get through the working week with her two hourly ciggy breaks. This had meant she had got rather crotchety with her customer before they had agreed to talk again next week. The customer finally hung up and she could get out of the office and light her needed cigarette.
It didn’t help that her offices smoking policy was a sole bench about 5 minutes walk across the yard. Laura however smoked her cigarette as she strolled across to the yard, looking up at the cloudless sky reflecting in the windows above. Everyone from the office windows could also look down and see who was walking across and when. It was seen by the non-smokers in the office as the smokers walk of shame.
As she had missed the morning cup of tea and ciggy break with her colleagues, it meant she was alone on the bench, with just her thoughts and her cigarette, wishing she had remembered to make a cup of tea.
The frustration of the awkward customer and her need for nicotine, she chained her next ciggy using the last embers of her first one.
Laura sat and smoked the cigarette enjoying the sunshine for a few minutes and time away from the computer screen. It was pleasant to hear birds tweeting in the background. The bench was next to the large red industrial skip bins, so wasn't the most pleasant of smoking areas.
She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the grey breeze block wall beside the bench and before people started looking for her in the office, she started the walk back to her office. Laura classed this as her exercise for the day. She had measured it a few times with those fitbits that are all the rage.She did between 2500 and 3000 steps a day, not quite the 10,000 but three times a day going down two flights of stairs and walking to the bench for her ciggy breaks. She wasn’t really that fat, at least that is what she said to herself, Laura was comfortable with her size an average UK of a 16, however more recently an 18, but still bought size 16 clothes in hope. It would be mentioned by a few of the office bitches behind her back that she was in no way slim.
She almost had another cigarette as ensure she was calm enough to face the barrage of emails created stepping out of the office for 20 minutes , but thought better of it. Lunch and her next cigarette were only an hour and half away.
The other annoyingly timed customer called at ten to five, just as the office was packing up. Laura knew that if she left about 5 minutes early she could firstly have her cigarette sooner, and secondly she could get ahead of the traffic at the entrance to the dual carriageway just outside her office estate. It wasn’t a long commute, but it was made considerably longer if she didn’t escape ‘on time’.
Her problem was that this customer was stateside, in Seattle, and so for them it was the just beginning of the morning. They had all day to chat and discuss their project. It was a difficult project with several vested interests all wanting different things. The only thing Laura wanted now was her ‘going home’ cigarette. They had called yesterday for her at five to five, but she had strategically been halfway out the door as her colleague yelled at her. She pretended she didn’t hear, as the cigarette was removed from her bag as went down the stairs. As soon as she was outside it was lit. And she was gone.
So the call hadn’t started well as they had been disappointed with her not talking to them yesterday. To Laura the sale was important, as was her commission on it, so she went through the motions of being very apologetic to explaining that she would work on getting the corrections to the contract dealt with as soon as possible, being as polite as she could, whilst watching the clock on the office wall tick round.
Her colleagues had all drifted out of the office as it was Friday night. Only her manager remained at the other end of the office.
In preparation for the end of the conversation, she had retrieved her cigarette pack from her large brown bag in the floor and had put them on the desk, “just shortening the time required later on Laura said to herself whilst the customer wittered on about something inconsequential to project, the discussions with the customer went on and on, the cigarette just got pulled further and further out of the pack.
Laura’s manager then walked past, on the way to toilets, with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head at Laura toying with her cigarette in the pack, Laura pushed it back in with a moment of guilt.
Laura finally got the customer to agree to her way of thinking, and the end of the call was achieved. Laura scooped up her bag and jacket put her cigarette in her mouth got the lighter from a denim jacket pocket and made for the door.
The cigarette was lit by the time the office front door closed behind her as she inhaled deeply, exhaled upwards to the sky as her shoulders dropped and Laura relaxed and made for her car. As she reached her blue Corsa, she dropped the cigarette on the floor stubbed it out with her light green Newlook flats, looking down on the ground of the carpark she could see the remainder of this week’s end of work day cigarette stubs. “I must cut down” Laura thought to herself “or move car parking space” seeing the now 5 orange stubs on the ground by the driver’s side door with several more from the previous weeks still in the corner of her parking space.
The Friday night commute was as bad as predicted, but with four smoked cigarettes and her IPod shuffle of cheesy 2000s music she was a happy singing, dancing and smoking with the window down. She had to take a detour on the way home via little Tesco’s at the end of the road to get her weekend cigarettes and a couple bottles of wine.
Some of her friends and colleagues were going out on the town they had Whatsapped each other at lunchtime, but Laura had declined to go out saying she just wanted a night in.
Laura got home, opened her door, walked down the hallway past the living room to put the wine in the fridge, grabbed a cigarette from the kitchen table and lit it. Leaned against the sink and smoked. She used the time to check Facebook and Twitter on her phone. As usual recently no one had messaged her anything useful. She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table and went upstairs. She went to her bedroom, let her mousey brown hair down from its pony tail, untied and climbed out of her green wrap-around work dress and her non-matching blue bra and comfy poker dot granny style knickers, letting them fall to the floor, she then ungracefully attempted to kick the ball of clothe the small distance in to the washing basket beside her wardrobe, leaving the bra and panties balanced the edge of the extremely full basket. ‘Close’ she thought to herself with a smile.
She grabbed her cigarette out of the pack on the bed side unit and lit her first ‘It’s the freaking weekend cigarette’ and turned with her exhale and looked at herself side on in the full size mirror on the wardrobe door. She could see her thighs covered in various bruises even one on her small Eeyore tattoo she got for a dare one drunken Sunday afternoon a few years back, Zoe had the matching Winnie the Pooh on her upper thigh. Most of the bruises came from bumping in to the kitchen table and chairs when drunk she presumed to herself.
She stroked her muffin top belly which lipped over what is now a clear panty line even without clothes on. “That hadn’t been there 3 years ago” she thought to herself as she inhaled her cigarette and subsequently exhaled towards the mirror, then she gently lifted her slightly sagging large breasts and tweaked her large now erect nipples, her breasts were her best asset she reminded herself, when dressed in a certain way- low cut little black dress, push up bra, then she can get the guys to stare with appreciation. She inhaled and then did some well-practiced snap inhales and smoke rings in to the mirror.
Laura balanced the cigarette in the ashtray and retrieved her Denis nightie, dumped on the bedstead in her slightly hungover rush this morning, and put it on. Laura retrieved the cigarette and inhaled, and flumped on to the bed, exhaled the cone of smoke and watched till it hit the bedroom ceiling directly above her head and dissipated, she repeated the large inhale and exhale watching the last bit of smoke bounce off the ceiling. She grabbed her phone, coughed and she sat there on the bed and smoked for a couple of minutes while she ordered her large pizza with extra pepperoni and wedges delivery on her phone app.
She extinguished that cigarette, grabbed and lit her second ‘its the freaking weekend cigarette’ of the evening took a double drag, exhaled, coughed gently, shuffled off the bed, ashed her cigarette and headed downstairs to the kitchen where she dangled the cigarette, opened one of her £6 bottles of chardonnay, poured herself her first large glass of the evening and settled in on the sofa to wait for the pizza delivery guy.
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