The Smoker: Rebecca Is Becca, #9

By D.D. Grey

You know the old saying, "A goddess on your arm, a maid around the house, a gourmet in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom?" That's what I got with Rebecca, just not all at the same time. Rebecca was the perfect demure girlfriend. When her other personality, Becky, took charge of her body, she became a clean freak, while Becs could cook a fabulous meal from any mix of ingredients. Becca, though, Becca was trouble, especially as she rarely stayed confined to the bedroom.

 

Rebecca doesn't smoke, and her other personalities hate coffin nails too. Except one. Becca will smoke occasionally. Attending a neighbor's party where the smokers are corralled and banished to the garage, seeing Becca bum a cigarette off someone was a big red flag. Too late, it appeared the garage was going to be a very popular smoking room this evening.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223836452

Book preview

The Smoker

Rebecca does not like smoking, while Becky detests it, mainly for the smell and the inevitable mess around the ashtrays. It ignites her neat freak passions like no other subject does. Becs hates it for an entirely different reason. She swears it dulls the taste buds, and if she is going to spend ages in the kitchen, she wants everyone to taste her food.

I guess it’s, therefore, a bit of a surprise, or maybe not, that Becca will smoke. Not all the time, not even often, and she’s not hooked. Rebecca can go a month without becoming Becca, and I doubt Becca smokes more than one incarnation out of five, so, no, she’s not addicted. She just likes a smoke now and again, a social one. When she does smoke, though, she’s aware that men watch as she makes a production out of the action.

A case in point occurred last weekend. After the incident with the roadies and the tour bus, I was quite happy that Becca hadn’t reappeared for several weeks, but I guess the signs were there. This particular Saturday, Becky had made an appearance during the morning. She’d looked around our immaculate, perfectly tidy flat and announced, This place is a fucking tip. Disappearing into the bedroom, she emerged in an old t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans shorts. She started to tear into what appeared to me to be unnecessary cleaning and tidying. I kept my mouth shut. Interrupting Becky in this kind of frenzy was best avoided. I guess that makes me a coward. I should have checked she’d took her medication and then slowly subdued Becky by seducing her. Given how tight those shorts were and how enticing her perfectly shaped butt was inside them, there was a sure-fire way to distract her. I didn’t—I let her get on with it.

At least by mid-afternoon, she was done. The apartment shone, I mean literally shone. If the sun had been any brighter, you’d have needed sunglasses. Becky retired to the bathroom, and for the next hour and a half, proceeded to pamper herself silly. I never did find out what it would be like to slide her out of those tight shorts, not that day, anyway. Still, when Rebecca emerged from the bathroom, all sweetness and light, and in a good mood as well as clean, it didn’t take long to work her out of the toweling robe she’d wrapped