When I started smoking at 15 I felt excitement …

I was being a bad girl, I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do, it was fun, it was dangerous. I would look for places to hide so I could smoke, then worry about my mom not smelling it on me.

My parents had just gotten divorced, my dad stayed in LA (he’s a doctor) while we moved across country. My mom, who’s French, smoked but told us never to do it, even though she smoked around us sometimes and seemed to really enjoy it. She doesn’t smoke as much now, but still enjoys it.

I remember our mailman smoked, I caught him doing it when I was arriving home with my mom one day, so when he came around I would casually be by the door (when mom wasn’t home) and I’d ask him for a cigarette, he would always give me one, sometimes two or three to keep. He would smile and tell me I shouldn’t be smoking, but somehow seemed to get a kick out of it, standing there, watching me light it, watching me smoke.

I learned to inhale very quickly and it was all very exciting back then. I remember being told I would get “hooked”, to be careful, and I didn’t understand it much then, but somehow the thought of giving in to this specific addiction excited me, I didn’t mind being “hooked“, I wanted to be “hooked“, so I kept going.

Soon I was smoking more and more, and wanted to smoke more and more. The need was growing in me.

My smoking friend’s older brother brought us each a pack of cigarettes one day and I remember being so happy! I finally had my own pack, how awesome!

From that point on I always had a pack of cigarettes somewhere and would sometimes horde them just to make sure I had a smoke when I wanted one, which was becoming more frequent as the months went by.

As soon as I started driving at 16 I spent some time trying to buy my own and I was denied time after time “you need to be 18 sweetheart, sorry.” Until I finally found a gas station near the house that sold them to me, so I got my cigarettes there pretty much until I was old enough to get them anywhere … finally free!

Today …

The smell of a lit cigarette

The taste

The hot need to have the smoke inside me

For the nicotine to satisfy my desire

My hunger – like a vampire hungers for blood

My need

My lungs begging for it and the cigarette delivering.

Every time.

I love it!

This is a master I’m very willing to serve.



3 thoughts on “A Master I’m Willing to Serve

  1. Outstanding start-smoking report and a fun read. Never heard of a young smoker being corrupted by the mailman before. I was actually a young mailman in 1998 and experienced the opposite….seeing young girls sitting in front of their house smoking. Did you live in California when you started at 15?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I started smoking in Florida. And I had already been smoking when I was asking the mailman for cigarettes. In the beginning it was hard getting cigarettes, but I always managed.


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