Doing Charlotte, day 6 - part 1

Saturday Morning

Charlotte woke up cursing the alarm clock, and some twenty minutes later she crawled out of her room like a zombie. She no longer looked like the sweet blonde that would cheerfully wish her mother good morning. She limped along the corridor, scratching a buttock, and locked herself up in the bathroom for a good half an hour.
While I waited for her to come out of the bathroom, I did my gum and cigarette trick, and then set myself at the breakfast table, in all my sexy librarian glory.
When she dragged herself into the kitchen, wearing faded jeans and a dirty T-shirt, I gave her an upbeat good morning. “Do you want a biscuit, dear?”
She glared at me some more and put on some coffee, then she sat with a heavy sigh.
She glared at me through bloodshot eyes. “What have you done with your hair?” she asked.
I passed a hand through my short salt and pepper hair. “Oh, you know. I got a little makeover, before I went out last night.” I pushed my chest out as I smiled at her. “Do you like it?”
“It was a last minute call, eh?” she spat. “That sort of work took what? Two hours?”
“Three, actually. I also got a facial and a hands and feet thing.”
“Shit. Last minute my ass.”
I sighed impatiently. “Ok, I was late calling you because I had such a wonderful time at the salon, you simply slipped out of my mind completely. But I do look good, don’t I?”
She took it in stride, darting me a poisonous glance.The hatred in her eyes made my nipples stiffen. She was almost there.
“You came home late,” she said.
The little bitch. “Not so late, actually. You know how it is when you are having fun…”

I smiled remembering Lolita’s wicked tongue between my thighs.
“Nice dinner?” Charlotte asked like she actually couldn’t give a damn.
“It was absolutely wonderful!” I enthused. And indeed, I had had a lot of fun, but Charlotte was not yet ready for the details. My butt still hurt. “I also met some friends of Jeanine.”
She grunted. “How exciting,” she smirked.
I felt my nipples stiffen at her rebellious tone.
“What is this, you don’t approve?”
She just shrugged, and massaged her temples.
“And how was your evening?”
She grunted. “I ordered a pizza and watched some shit on TV. Boring.”
“Pizza will go straight to your ass, you know.”
“As if I cared!” she snapped. “Who knows, maybe a big ass would make my life more exciting.”
The stupid girl didn’t need pizza to improve her ass. The magic was working, and the effects were by now plain to see. Her tits had grown, and her ass was more toned and muscular. Her hair was showing a dark regrowth, and was definitely longer and wilder, falling well below her shoulders. Her nails were longer too, and showed a hint of sharpness. She was pale, and had dark circles under her eyes, and a brooding expression. But the greatest transformation was Charlotte’s new moody attitude and her growing cynicism, and I drank in her dissatisfaction and hostility, enjoying every minute the knowledge that I had made her so. Then, when she rose to pour herself a black coffee, I took out a fresh pack of cigarettes and slowly unwrapped it. The plastic wrap’s crackle echoed in the silent kitchen.
Charlotte sat in front of me, steaming cup forgotten in her hand, following every move. Very slowly I slipped a cigarette out with my well-manicured nails, and leaned into the flame to light it. She wet her lips. I took a cheek-hollowing drag and held it in, counting to ten. I knew that, with my aggressive MILF looks, I was hot as fuck with a cigarette in my hand. I closed my eyes, slowly threw my head back and exhaled, directing most of the smoke towards her.
When I reopened my eyes, Charlotte was staring at me, a cloud of smoke slowly dissipating around her like a halo. A mixture of emotions played on her face, none of them healthy or decent. My heart sang. It was time to push a little harder. Time to tip the balance.
I offered her the packet. “Would you like to try?” I asked.
Her eyes flared. “Mom! You know I hate that stuff!”
I shrugged, putting the packet down. “No need to get angry,” I smiled.
“I’m not angry!”
“You do sound angry, dear.”
“Shit, I said I’m not angry!”
“Ok, as you say. I just thought you looked so interested, maybe you would like to try, that’s all. No problem, my bad, sorry. Enjoy your coffee.”
And I took another long drag, staring her in the eye.
Her breathing rhythm was matching mine, and she held her breath as long as I held the smoke in my lungs.
I exhaled through my nose with a deep satisfied sigh, and double-pumped the cigarette again, quickly, filling my lungs again.
Charlotte kept watching me. There was a lot of stuff going on behind her dark eyes, and it was all working for me. She sipped her black coffee, frowning. I brought the cigarette again to my lips, real slow. Another long cheek-hollowing pull.
Charlotte put her cup down and took a deep breath. “Ok, let me try.”
I hoped my malignant delight did not show as I smiled at her. “Are you sure, dear?” I asked, exhaling another white cloud.
“Yes,” she snapped.
“You always said it’s a bad habit…”
Her eyes darted to the packet by my side. “I said I want to try!”
“But all the talk about your body being your temple, dear…”
She snorted with impatience. “Shit, mom, give me a fucking cigarette!”
I offered her the packet again. “Since you ask so nicely…”
She whispered a “Fuck you!” under her breath as she fumbled with the lid and clumsily took out a cigarette. “Here,” I said, leaning forward across the table. “Let me light you up, dear.”
“Stop calling me dear! I hate it!”
“As you wish.” I took her hand, helping her keep the cigarette steady. Her hand was as cold as ice. “Here, lean closer, and suck a little. Get it going. Right, like this. You’re good.”
Charlotte coughed and spat out a little smoke.
“They are pretty strong,” she said, trying to look cool. She quickly took another short drag, and stifled a new coughing fit.
“Yes, Newport Slims are quite strong. And they really are bad for your health, you know. Jeanine calls them her cancer sticks.”
She took a third tentative drag. Her eyes watered a little, but she did not cough. “Is that why she quit?” she smirked, “She’s afraid of cancer?”
Smoke came out of her mouth as she spoke.
I smiled and tapped the ash off my cigarette in my empty cup, then pushed the cup towards her. She imitated my gesture, tapping the filter with her thumb nail. She brightened up a little when she succeeded without incident.
“Her quitting did not last long,” I chuckled. “Jeanine seems to like her cancer sticks more than she did before.”
Charlotte grinned and did the ash trick again. She was beginning to relax. “Cancer sticks. Like these are the only stuff that gives you cancer…”
“We only have one life, right?” I said, seeing an opening to start my indoctrination again.
“Yeah,” she said. “And it sucks big time.”
“It’s up to us to enjoy what we have, don’t you think?”
We started talking about how everything was, in Charlotte’s words, ‘pretty fucked up’. The discussion soon turned to her social life, that had been apparently taking a turn for the worst in the last months. Or, I mused cruelly, more likely in the last two days. This of course led to her wayward ex. She broached the subject.
“I was a fool to waste my time with Brad,” she said, and angrily pulled on her cigarette, holding the smoke in. “What a fool I was.”
I shrugged. “Brad had been probably screwing other girls, well before he dumped you. I mean, there’s so many sluts out there, you couldn’t expect anything else.”
“Sluts get all the fun, and stupid girls take the fall,” she agreed, stubbing her cigarette out.
“Not that you did much to keep your man,” I added.
“Yeah. Virginity’s overrated.”
“Well, you could at least have given him a blow job,” I said, matter-of-factly. “A blow job’s pretty fun, and it does not really count as losing one’s virginity, right?”
Charlotte stared at me. I could see she was both shocked and excited. And she was so caught up in the conversation that she did not even notice when I offered the packet again, and she took a second cigarette.
“Have you ever…?” she asked, as I lit her up.
“What? Sucked cock?” I laughed in my most condescending way, and sucked suggestively on my cig. “C’mon, honey, who hasn’t?!”
Then I blew smoke in her face and gasped theatrically. “Goodness, dear, don’t tell me that you never…!”
I pumped my hand in front of my mouth, pushing my tongue in my cheek. Charlotte's eyes widened. I gave a shrill laugh, tossing my head back. "Poor dear!"
“Fuck you,” she said again, this time louder.
“This is not the Victorian era anymore, dear,” I said. “And it’s really a waste, if you ask me, for a nice healthy young woman, to keep her sweet plump twat out of the market.”
Charlotte was nodding, her eyes dark. “It’s really just a market, isn’t it?”
“Oh, dear, don’t get my words wrong. It’s a market, yes, but that’s part of the fun. You can see it as a straightforward exchange of services. Very pleasant services. You give pleasure to me,” I took a long pull on my cigarette and stubbed it out, holding her gaze, “and I give pleasure to you.”
“It’ s been like this, for you?” she asked, a hint of nastiness in her tone.
“As soon as I learned to enjoy the ride.”
I stood and poured more coffee for the both of us. We sipped the brew in silence. Five minutes later, Charlotte spontaneously put the third cig between her plump lips. I handed her the lighter, so that she could fire it up herself.
“Feels good?” I asked her as she took her first real deep drag. She surprised me by double pumping and holding it in real long. I could see the head rush was making her dizzy. Her new smile, loaded with darkness and bitterness, painted a devilish expression on her angry face.
“Good?” she exhaled through her nostrils. “Oh, no, mom,” she purred, her eyes sparkling. “Actually, it makes me feel so marvelously nasty. And I think I really like it.”
She took another double drag. “And you know what? Knowing this is really bad for my health only makes it better,” she said as she exhaled slowly. “The idea that I am self-destructing actually makes it better, more enjoyable. My lungs feel like they are full of water and my head is so wonderfully light and I can’t wait to become fully addicted. My body is my fucking temple and I want to set fire to it and then piss on the remains.”
“There’s a lot of ways to self-destruct,” I observed. “Lots of things to get addicted to.”
Charlotte was by now surfing on a caffeine and nicotine buzz. “If they all feel this good I’ll have to try some more,” she said.
We were again silent as she made love to her cigarette.
“So eager to catch up on lost time?” I chuckled.
Charlotte gave me a strange look, sucking on her cigarette, nodding in agreement. “Life is meaningless anyway, so why not have fun while it lasts?” she observed cynically, lighting up her fourth cigarette. “I was such a fool not to play the field when I had the opportunity. But no, I had to keep pure and concentrate on higher matters. My body was my fucking temple. Shit, I should have started screwing around at fifteen, like most of my girlfriends did. But I was such a cunt! A good energetic fuck is just the thing. Rough and dirty fun, scratches and bruises, without stupid attachments.”
The devilish expression was now her normal face. Anger, bitterness, and cynical glee. I just flooded my panties. The balance had been tipped all right. I could not suppress a grin of pure malice as I watched Charlotte deny every value she had built her former life upon and slowly, steadily embrace her darkest self.
She stood, stretching and shaking her hair out of her eyes, the cigarette dangling from her lips.
“I don’t feel like doing shit today,” she announced, going back to her room. I called her and when she turned, I put my lighter in the open Slims packet and tossed it to her. “Enjoy yourself.”
She gave me a lopsided grin. “Why not?”
I gave her fifteen minutes, while I started the stereo and put up some music. Then I opened Charlotte’s door and looked at her laying on her bed, smoking and staring at the ceiling, one hand tucked in her pants. I noticed there was a nice wet patch on her jeans, just below the zipper. The magazines were laying on the floor, and she had stubbed her smokes on the nightstand, leaving black burns on the polished wood.
“Is the music too loud, dear?” I asked.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, her cigarette bobbing, the hand in her pants moving slowly. “Leave the door open, I like this song.”
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was half past ten, no-longer-sweet Charlotte was smoking her eight cigarette and enjoying Siouxie and the Banshees, while she rubbed herself off. I loved the rubbing off part the most. After all, I was totally a masturbation enthusiast.
I left the girl to her brooding and self-abuse. It was time to go and ride my darling egg for a while, and let her ponder her next move. Me, I had mine already planned.
As I laid on my bed, grunting moans coming from the next room, I unwrapped my magic lollipop.