Making Martine -a preview

I promised you a preview of my new story "Making Martine", and here it is.

For those that have nor read "Hooking Harriet" (but why?!) here is what you need to know: Harriet used to be a vocal anti-smoker, but her friends helped her change her mind. Now she's hell bent on turning her healt & fitness freak sister Martine into a smoker too, and her mother agrees...

Enjoy!


"God forgive me, but I've come to detest the sanctimonious little bitch!"
Harriet's mother took a deep angry drag on her Chesterfield and pushed the smoke down, shaking her head.
"You bet I want to see her hooked," she went on, taking a second hit on top of the first, her eyes blazing with furey. "I want to see her throw away all her stuck-up health crap and start chaining two packets a day. I want to hear her voice get low and rough for the smoke, I want to smell smoke in her hair, on her skin, in her clothes."
She exhaled a colossal cloud of smoke in the already saturated air of her parlor. "I want her with brown stained fingers, dropping ashes everywhere around the house and not caring. Shit, I want her to recant everything she ever said to me and my husband, I want her to become the poster girl for addiction. I want her to get all of her friends smoking, too. I want her to bum cigarettes from strangers. I want to see her so addicted to nicotine she will beg and crawl for a cigarette."
She snorted the last of the smoke and took a refill.
She looked at us, rage still simmering.
"You must think I am a horrible old woman for saying things like these about my own daughter."
I grinned at her. "You are not an old woman."
She chuckled.
"And begging and crawling is good," Tracy said, leaning forward in her chair. "I'm sure Martine would look great begging and crawling." Her voice dropped one octave, turning into a sensual purr. "I like begging and crawling. Begging and crawling is so sexy."
Her eyes were into the older woman's, a heavy-lidded, almost drugged stare.
"Would you like me to beg and crawl for you?" she said.
Harriet's mother was staring at her as hypnotized.
"I'd be happy to crawl and beg you," Tracy said.
Her hair fell down her shoulder and onto her breasts as she slid down from her chair and knelt on the carpet.
Harriet leaned against me. "Come, let's leave them alone," she whispered.

Tracy was on all fours and crawling on the coffee table as we left the parlor.