My doctor had advised me to get myself a masseur for my aching shoulders. I had no real problem with them, I was just simply a bit overstrained he said. First, I didn't really like the idea. Some big guy kneading my shoulders and my back so I would probably not be able to walk properly for one or two days after. I had one or two beers at the pub in the evening with a friend, who really cheered me up - "why not get yourself a masseuse rather than a masseur"? I can't understand why it hadn't crossed my mind before!

My doctor had of course recommended a few masseurs to contact, but from what I could understand from reading his list, no masseuses. I started to study the yellow pages phone catalog. There were several females, and just when I had made up my mind, I thought I saw the word "smoky" in the corner of my eye. What the...?? "Smoky Massage" it said and a phone number. Nothing else. I picked up the receiver and called without any hesitation.

- Yes? Her voice was raspy and smoky. I explained that I was curious about what it was, and I said I really needed a proper masseuse for my shoulders.
She cleared her throat by coughing twice, right in the receiver which made me jump because of the loudness, and explained that all of their masseuses were professional ones.
- What's the smoke got to do with it, then, I asked.
- They smoke while they're massaging you. Some guys tend to like it. Now, do you want to make a reservation or not?
- Well, eh, yes, I do, I mumbled.
- Right, but you can also just drop in but then you might have to wait.
I still really wasn't sure, so I said I'll come over and I got the address.

Behind the door, I found the woman I had been talking to. She was around 45-50, long, blonde hair, big lips with thick pink lipstick. Her dress and make-up made me associate to some other business than pure massage. She was smoking a cigarette and nose exhaled just as I came in. She gave me a suspicious glance and looked at me from top to bottom.
I explained I had called earlier the same day and wanted to have some massage. She finished her cigarette and put the butt in a ash-tray already filled with probably more than twenty of them. She got a coughing fit and coughed with deep, hard rattlings, just turning her head to the side.

- Sit down, and we'll see what suits you best, she said. Her voice sounded like she would need some more coughing, she must have got some mucus up half the way only. She took some list from her desk, then she suddenly looked up at me and smiled a little.

- Now, do you know what you want or do you want some help finding out?
I had no idea what she was talking about but she had a certain teasing glance in her eye that I liked, so I gave her the same glance and told her to help me finding out. She smiled, and got the feeling she enjoyed the situation.
- Right, sit close to my desk, she said, andd I moved closer.
- To start with, do you like what I do now, or do you not, she said. Then, she took a deep breath and exhaled right in my face. Her breathe was so smoky so I thought my face would get brown.
- I like it, I said, which was true.
- Mmm, glad to hear that, she said, before llighting a new cigarette. She pulled the smoke down into her lungs after a double pump, before doing what I had started to expect. She opened her mouth wide open and breathed the smoke out, from her rattling lungs, up through her throat, between her painted lips and in my face.
- I don't have to ask you if you liked that or not, she said in a low voice. - You want some smoke all over you during thhe massage, don't you, she smiled.
Suddenly, her smile was gone. She had noticed I could hardly control myself anymore and that I had started to lean forward even further. She gave me a hard and almost angry glance for a short moment before smiling up again and let me get the most smoky kiss I had ever had before. She then quickly turned her head away and coughed deeply. After a few seconds, it sounded deeper and deeper and I thought she would get a lung up. She sounded like she was going to whoop before it ended.
- I like that too, I said and she looked up at me before smiling.
- Hmmm, never heard that one before, she said. - Do you want one with a smoker's cough? The more the better, or?
- I certainly do, I said and smiled.
- Age? Does it matter?, she asked quickly and started to browse through the list, following the rows in it with her finger.
- Amy, she's 43, a bit like me. We look more like 50 from our hard lives, cough our lungs up, but she's a good masseuse. OK? She laughed a little and coughed again.
- Perfect, I said. I wanted to chat a little bit more, ask her about the other masseuses and get to know herself a bit more, but she pressed a button and soon Amy appeared.

Amy and the receptionist exchanged a few words, whispering and smoking. Amy was really nice, she looked older than she was, as I'd been told, and she seemed to be a genuine chain smoker. She was wearing jeans shorts and a white T-shirt. Well, it was meant to be white but it wasn't any longer. The whole woman smelled of cigarette smoke, her clothes, her hair, her breathe and probably her fingers too. About once per minute, she coughed with two quick hacks, both followed by real, deep rattlings. And, about once per three minutes, she got a longer coughing fit. Sometimes, they would start with a long rattling, sometimes with a sequence of wet, deep hacks. Those frequent short ones were coughed out in the air, while she often caught the longer ones in one hand cupped over her mouth or, occassionally, in both hands cupped over her very long, a bit pointed nose. The nose's form made her nostrils look like they were deliberately wide open, like if the nose was holding them open. I paid special interest to this, since she often nose exhaled, or let a nose exhale follow the first, "primary", mouth exhale. She was in the middle of a coughing fit when we came into the room. She closed the door behind us with one hand, coughing in the other hand. Her chest was rattling so it sounded like if it had been full of foam or something.
- Just take that shirt off and lie down, shee said. She went over to a hand-basin to clean her hands.
- You don't have to... I started because I lliked the thought of her massaging me with her smoky hands.
- Hey, I just almost coughed up a lung in myy hands, so I think this is better, she smiled. She lit a cigarette and put it in an ash-tray on a table near the "bed" or what I should call it. She started to massage my shoulders. - Yeah, we need to do some work up here, shee said in her smoky voice, coughed twice, dragged on her cigarette.
- Want to really feel my exhales, she asked in a professional tone.
- Yes, please, I replied and felt the smoke from her lungs around my face.
She coughed again before taking her next drag. I could feel that she really knew what she was doing; her fingers were feeling so professional. I tried to chat with her while she was massaging, but she wasn't really keen on talking, so after a while I gave up and let her work. She kneaded, smoked and coughed. She exhaled over my body time after time, sometimes only using her great nostrils. I noticed she didn't get any of those real coughing fits after a while, and first I thought her cough simply had calmed down. However, after a while, I heard that those short coughings of hers weren't actually sufficient, she was sort of holding her real cough back.
- Cough if you like, I said.
- I try not to while I'm working, she said aand coughed three times, shortly. Her rattlings sounded so deep and hot.
- I like your cough, I tried.
- Brenda told me so. I know, I'm so used to holding my smoker's cough back while I'm ... working... I...
She gave up her fight and started to cough. She was still massaging me with her both hands, so she was coughing right over my back, deeper and deeper. Finally, she put a hand over her mouth and coughed deeply until it ended. She first was on her way to the hand-basin, the she changed her mind.
- OK, then she said and laughed a little witth a deep rattling and that hand she had been coughing in was massaging my shoulders again.
- Sometimes, if I can't resist a coughing fiit while massaging, I always clean my hands before going on.
- You're really professional, I said. She gaave me a sign that the massage was finished and I sat up.
- I'm a professional masseuse - not a hookerr, she said. - I blow the cigarette smoke from my lungs in their faces, but that's another thing. It's our little speciality - but it's what we do here - nothing else. Brenda's job is to sort out what the customer is really after, you know. (I wondered why Brenda has approved of me, the way I had looked at her and even kissed her...)

- Now, have you heard about face massage, she suddenly asked. I had heard about it, but never tried it. Then it started... She explained what it was, but that this was the smoky version.
She took a long double drag and nose exhaled into her both cupped hands. Then again, and again, and finished her cigarette in less than a minute. She then coughed, really deeply, in those two hands before massaging my cheeks, my forehead and my lips with them... Her fingers were so smoky, so warm, and maybe a little bit humid. After no more than a minute, she smoked another cigarette the same way. The smoke were flowing over her fingers and palms, time after time. She then massaged my lips with her cigarette-smelling fingers. Every time she coughed, she put her fingers over her lips, then directly massaged my face again. Sometimes after her coughings, her fingers were apparently slightly humid.

Suddenly, she took a chewing gum from a pack and started to chew. She told me to lie down again and got back to the usual massage. After five minutes, she took the chewing gum about, put it on the table and picked a cigarette from the pack. I now completely lost my control, so I grabbed that still wet chewing gum and put it in my mouth. The taste of her warm, smoky saliva made me reach my climax, and between my moanings I heard a quiet, warm, raspy laughter.