Full House - Part 1

This story begins about two weeks before the Shelly episode.
Charlotte has just morphed into Lilith, and she is out to cause some proper mischief.

I hope you'll like it.





“Welcome. I am The Tobacconist and this is my store. How may I assist you today?”
The guy behind the counter was a thin, prim chap with a pencil thin mustache. Conservatively dressed, he stood in with his hands resting on the top of the counter. He was staring me in the eye, and this was unusual: in the last three days, most men and quite a few women had been unable to take their eyes off my cleavage and my ass.
Smiling, I dipped two long-nailed fingers in between my tits and slipped out a notes page, folded in four.
“I’ve got a shopping list,” I said. “I hope my requests are not too unusual.”
The man delicately picked the paper from my fingers, unfolded it and scanned my list.
“No,” he said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “These are pretty usual. And number three is actually one of our bestsellers.”
He stopped and arched an eyebrow. “But the last,” he said slowly, “it’s an all time-first.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I am impressed.”
I straightened my back, giving him a better display of my boobs. “I tend to impress people,” I leered.
He ignored my come on. “I can fulfil the rest of your order immediately,” he said. “But the last item needs to be designed and prepared. You should come back,” he eyed the clock ticking by the door. “Later this afternoon. Say after five.”
I nodded. “I’ll pick up the whole order later, then.”
He nodded. “As you wish.”
“Do you need a deposit?”
His smile broadened. “Miss, that would not be polite. This establishment has the uttermost respect for its clients, and their choices and requests. I am sure you will come back for your smokers’ goods.”
“Wow,” I cooed.
“Five this afternoon,” he repeated.
“I’ll find a way to keep me busy till then,” I grinned, and walked out.

#

So there I was, trying to close the front gate with my hip while carrying a load of bags and boxes, a lit cigarette dangling from my lips, and standing in front of the mail boxes I caught Donna Cooper and her daughter Emma, looking at me like I was something spawned from hell.
Which was sort of flattering, I guess.
Miss Cooper was holding a sheaf of envelopes, and scowling openly. Her daughter was standing behind her, looking at me over her shoulder. I knew Emma. I used to babysit her and her sister, when I was fifteen and they were about eight or ten. Now Emma was eighteen, but she still looked like a child.
“Charlotte?” Donna said, arching her eyebrows. She was a fit, aggressive-looking fifty-something in a cream suit, a crocodile bag matching her shoes and the softest veil of makeup on her face. “Whatever happened to you?”
I shrugged, walking to my apartment door. I lifted the bags.. “I took advantage of the sales,” I said. Then I nodded to Emma. “Hi, Em!”
She was staring at me with eyes as big as dishes.
From beyond the door of my apartment, the pounding of a bass was all we could hear of some very hard rock record pumped up to eleven. It felt good.
“Care to come in for a drink?” I asked, enjoying their embarrassment and their tension. Was Emma licking wetting her lips?
Miss Cooper tapped her foot impatiently. “No, thank you,” she snapped.
“OK,” I said.
I put down the bags and rummaged in my pocket for the key. My red vinyl pants creaked as I twisted and wiggled my ass, trying to pull the key out.
“Fuck!” I said as it finally got it.
I took my cigarette between two fingers, and exhaled a big cloud of smoke.
My neighbors were still there.
“Now,” Donna Cooper said, taking a step forward, her daughter still cowering behind her. “I will not express my opinions on your new,” she hesitated, “style.”
I ran my hands up my sides, along my black corset and finally cupped my big boobs, hefting them. Donna’s eyes lingered on the inverted cross that hung between my tits, and at my black-painted nipples as they glanced over the shiny rim of the corset.
“You don’t like my new look?” I asked, pouting innocently my plump black-and-red lips.
Donna Cooper grimaced. “You look like a prostitute.”
“A lot of guys like me like this,” I said, still pouting. “And quite a lot of girls, too.”
Miss Cooper’s face turned red.
“You are shameless.”
“Fuck, yeah!” I leered. “That’s part of the fun, don’t you think?”
“How can you?!”
My grin widened. “The drugs make it easier,” I winked.
Finally, Donna Cooper was speechless. I stared into Emma’s eyes, and held her gaze. She blinked and looked at her feet.
“Anyway, your looks and your life choices are your own,” Donna lectured me, finding her voice again. “As for your language, I guess that’s another thing about which I have no right to complain.”
“Tough luck,” I smiled.
“But I can and I will remind you that smoking is forbidden in the common areas of the building, and that music is supposed to be kept low.”
I stared at her.
I took a long drag from my cigarette, dropped the butt on the floor and squashed it with the tip of my platform pump. “Or else?” I asked.
She just snorted, and started up the stairs, followed by her daughter, a sad thing in jeans and a pink blouse.
The fucking bitch, I thought.
The door opened behind me.
“Had a round with miss tight-ass upstairs?” Plenty asked. She was wearing zebra-striped tights, a blue bikini top matching her hair and lips, and platform flip-flops.
“What’s her problem?” I asked back, entering. Plenty helped me with the bags.
“Talked to her, too, this afternoon,” she said. “She had some headache with the Allman Brothers. I told her to go and get a sex life, if not in so many words. She’s just a fucking bitch, and not the fun kind I like.”
I kissed Plenty on her lips, our boobs squeezed against each other. “Babe, you just gave me a wonderful idea.”
I placed the bags by the door, and took out a carton of kretek Blacks.
“Got something new for us!” I said, taking Plenty by the hand and leading her to our couch. We plopped down side by side and I opened the carton, taking out a box. Plenty leaned closer and sniffed. “Smells like cloves.”
I pulled out my black zippo. “They are cloves cigarettes. And much more.”
She licked her lips, her eyes sparkling. “Gimme one,” she breathed.
I put two black cigarettes between my lips and lit them both. Then passed one to Plenty, that sucked on it with gusto.
“Weird taste,” she said, her eyes watering a bit.
“They are the hardest of the hard,” I said, exhaling through my nose. My head floated for the massive nicotine hit.
“Yeah, they are nasty,” Plenty grinned. "I love'em."
She double pumped on the black filter and then breathed the smoke out, aiming the stream at my face. “And what are they supposed to do to us?” she asked.
I leaned closer. “They are supposed to do something for us,” I whispered in her ear.
She gave me a questioning look, taking another drag.
“Look at the couch, honey.”
She looked down and then her head snapped up, looking at me. Our old tired brown couch was gone, replaced by a massive black leather sofa. Plenty ran her hand on the shiny leather, and wriggled her ass, her leather mini producing a rude noise.
Her face lit up. “We’ll need to hotbox the whole room,” she said.
I dropped some ash in the cut glass ashtray at the center of the black mahogany coffee box in front of us. I leaned over and gave her a long, wet smoky kiss. “The whole house,” I said.
She gave a deep belly laugh, and lit another, exhaling the first toke towards the ceiling.