A tobacconist's shop that turns casual visitors, passers-by and delivery men into loyal pipe and cigar smoking customers and employees?
I've heard of this place. It's that old rundown shop on the bad side of town. It looks rather unassuming, situated in the center of a long deserted storefront. Few people pass by, but the ones who do always find the smoke...
Griffin couldn't be more proud of himself as he jogged nearby. He'd just turned fifty and had never felt healthier. Years of the same diet and exercise had kept him in fantastic shape. He still got looks from women; he knew they wanted him. He also got stares from men, who he imagined were jealous. Either way, Griffin was happy to be seen as the epitome of fitness. This was just who he was meant to be.
That's why he woke up an hour early. He wanted to run an extra mile before starting his day, so he added a detour to his normal path. He turned down a street he'd never seen before.
Something about this empty road seemed to call out to him when he saw it.
"Ignore the smell."
Griffin paused, "Hello?"
When only silence answered, he laughed at himself and picked up his pace. Before long, he caught a whiff of smoke. He ignored it, but the stench only got stronger. He was even starting to see clouds forming around him!
"Keep going!"
"What?" he looked around the deserted street, but there was no one to pin the voice to.
Griffin groaned in frustration and covered his nose with an arm. He needed to keep going and get on with his day. He wasn't going to let some smoke get in the way of him and his goals. He didn't care if the street stank. He didn't care if he was hearing things. He only cared about finishing his run.
"Stop and breathe it in!"
Griffin's legs suddenly came to a halt, and his arm instinctively dropped to his side. Before he knew it, he was doing what that voice said.
"What's happening to me?" he gasped, coughing as the smoke filled his throat.
"Turn around."
His legs obeyed the voice, spinning Griffin around. He found himself staring at an old abandoned smoke shop in between wheezes. He had no idea what was going on, but his heart was pounding with fear. Griffin hated anything unhealthy, and every breath of smoke made him feel like he was dying.
"You like the smoke!"
"What? No..." but even as he said it, something began to change inside of him. His throat stopped itching and a warmth spread from his lungs. He started to feel relaxed inside that cloud of smoke. Griffin might have even admitted that he liked it.
"Go inside."
Griffin didn't hesitate. His body marched inside that old cigar shop. That place had plans for him. After all, every store needs an employee. It also needed it's clientele, and that's what it's next plan was.
Tyler was idling in boredom later that day. He was right outside that same shop, but the cloud of smoke had disappeared. Tyler had arrived an hour later with his construction crew. They were demolishing one of the dilapidated buildings nearby, but it wasn't anywhere near as fun as he'd thought it'd be.
Being the new guy, the only tool he got was a broom, and Tyler had already spent the entire morning pushing it up and down the street. He wondered what his girlfriend would think if she knew this is what he did all day. Would she be disappointed that her big, strong, construction working boyfriend was nothing but a glorified janitor; because he sure was.
"Walk down the street."
"The hell?" Tyler sneered, looking around for the source of the voice, "Who's there? Is this a prank?"
Tyler doubted it was a prank. His coworkers were all old, lazy, assholes he didn't vibe with. All those farts wanted to do was smoke and whine about work. He couldn't imagine one of them taking the time to play a joke on him.
"Take a break."
Tyler sighed, "No need to tell me twice," and tossed the broom aside. The rubble could wait a few minutes longer to be swept up. He wanted to take a walk down the street and check out all the old buildings. They all seemed like they could come tumbling down at any second, but one caught his eye.
"That's weird," he muttered, noticing the storefront of the tobacconist shop "I thought this whole street was closed."
"Go inside."
Tyler was genuinely curious about the one occupied building in a row of vacancies, but his feet acted before he could. It wasn't until he found his hand pulling the door open that he realized he was on his way inside. He would've been rather scared by his lack of control if it weren't for the distraction of what he found inside the shop.
"Oh...uh...hello there," Tyler immediately said, realizing he wasn't alone in the shop
The man he was staring at looked like he'd been through some shit. His leather jacket and faded jeans looked about as old as the store, and he sucked on that cigar like it was water in the middle of a desert. A dense cloud of smoke lingered around the guy, and Tyler could practically taste the smell of tobacco in the air.
"Offer him your cigar."
"You want a smoke, boy?" the older man suddenly blurted around, staring Tyler in the eye.
"No, I'm good, man. I should be getting back to work anyway," the young construction worker answered, turning to leave.
"Take the cigar, boy," Tyler heard the man's voice deepen. He grappled with the doorknob, wishing he hadn't ever left his stupid worksite.
"Take the cigar."
Tyler let go of the door, and it swung shut. His body was acting impulsively again, but he was going the opposite way he wanted. Tyler turned back and found the leathery face of the old man inches away from his own. Before he knew it, that guy was pushing a cigar in his mouth, and his lips just opened to take it!
Tyler couldn't believe he was listening to this guy! He didn't even do what his father told him!
"Inhale it, boy," the man growled, cracking a tiny smile as he watched.
Tyler took a shaky breath in, smoking for the first time in his life. Immediately, he felt the urge to cough. His throat couldn't take it, but his body wouldn't let him. It was like his mouth just rejected the idea of relieving the itchiness of his lungs. He was left inhaling the smoke breath after painful breath until, eventually, it wasn't painful anymore.
"That's it, boy," the old guy said, pulling the new smoker into a rough embrace, "You're a smoker now. You buy from me. Remember that! You don't go to anyone else for your smokes except Griff. Got it?"
Tyler was still adjusting to his new addiction.
"Answer him."
"What? Yeah. I got it," Tyler mumbled. He didn't understand what he was agreeing to, but he didn't mind. Already, all he could think about was his next smoke break. A couple more hours of pushing that broom and he could pull out a pack of cigarettes. Tyler couldn't wait.
As Tyler strolled back to the construction site, he sucked the rest of that cigar dry. Luckily, he'd had enough change on him to buy the pack of cigarettes. Griff had suggested he smoke a pack a day, and Tyler had a feeling he was going to do as the man said.
"Sir?" a stern voice called, pulling Tyler out of his thoughts.
"Are you Tyler?" the cop asked, "You know your crew asked me to find you."
Tyler rolled his eyes and broke out his new pack of cigarettes open, "What they couldn't get off their asses to do it?"
"They were just worried. This isn't the best area to be wandering around in," the officer's tone hardened, "You know how bad that is for you, right?"
For a second Tyler paused. He hadn't thought about how nasty this habit actually was. Maybe he should quit while it was still new.
"Smoke in the pig's face."
The cop was confused by the sudden appearance of a disembodied voice, "Did you hear someth-"
Tyler blew out a long sigh of cigarette smoke in the policeman's face. He knew by now that he was supposed to obey that voice.
For the next few seconds, the cop cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. He hadn't expected that twerp to actually smoke in his face! When he cleared his vision, he noticed that the kid was gone.
"Investigate,"
That voice again puzzled him. There wasn't anyone nearby, and yet it sounded like a whisper. Nevertheless, it was right. He probably should investigate. That was his job after all.
It didn't take long for the cop to find the mysterious cigar shop. He was almost positive that whoever was inside wasn't supposed to be there. As far as he knew, this whole block was condemned.
"Hello! Police coming in." he announced as he pushed the door open, grimacing at the thick smell in the store "God it reeks in here."
"Explore the store."
The voice again appeared, telling him what to do. Officer Nichols figured the voice was right. He did need this godforsaken place. There was no way this place could be here legally.
As the cop passed a case with an array of cigars, his nose twitched. Something about them caught his attention. He wanted to find whoever was behind this business, but he figured he might as well explore the merchandise while he's here. It smelled expensive. It wasn't long before, he'd pulled one of the cigars and drug it under his nose to fully appreciate it's aroma.
"Like what you see?" a gravelly voice made the officer jump. Nichols turned and found Griff, propped against the wall behind the counter.
"Yeah, I..."
"You love it."
"...I love it," the cop finishes, surprised by his own words. He hadn't meant to say that. He was here to arrest whoever was behind this scheme. They were running an undocumented business out of an abandoned building!
"Actually, I'm here to...
"You're here to buy from him."
"...buy from you," Officer Nichols shakes his head. That's not what he meant to say. He needs to bring this guy in. Something in the air is clouding his judgement.
"I'm going to have to..."
"You have to keep the law away."
"...keep the law away." He couldn't believe he'd just said that. He'd just offered to aid a suspected criminal! He didn't mean that, right? The more Officer Nichols thought about it, the more he realized that he did mean it. This place needed to be free of pigs like him. Something was just telling him that this has to happen, and he was ready to lay down his career to do it.
"Yeah, I'm going to keep the precinct away from this place," the cop said confidently.
"Sounds good, man," Griff's increasingly raspy voice answered numbly, "Take a cigar for your trouble."
Officer Nichols left the shop feeling very different than when he entered. Before, he'd been straight-laced and by the book, but now he had a new urge to get a little dirty. The cigar and leather jacket Griff had bribed him with, made him want to do something bad. Maybe he could find someone to abuse his power on. That sounded fun.
The cop sauntered down the street, ready to embrace his new personality, and the street was once again left empty and deserted.
That is until, Randy came strolling down the way. Randy was a college student, on his way home from a library date with a girl from his biology class. It'd gone well, and he was still running off the high of geeking out about comic books with a super hot chick. He couldn't believe he'd found such an awesome girl, and she seemed totally into him!
He was planning on texting the number shed given him as soon as he got back to his apartment. That was why he was taking a shortcut. He couldn't wait!
"No need to rush."
Randy slowed his pace, slightly unnerved by the voice he'd just thought he'd heard. Looking around, he noticed that he was in the middle of a seemingly empty block: a ghost town in the middle of the city. The clouds of smoke he was approaching made the scene all the more unsettling.
"Since when is this here?" he wondered aloud. That's when the smell hit him.
"Gross," he muttered, trying his best to ignore the strong scent of secondhand smoke.
"Follow it."
Ryan found himself stepping off the sidewalk. For some reason, he was crossing the street and heading into even denser fog. His nose led the way, taking him the exact opposite direction it wanted to go. He was forced to put up with the smell, following it's trail all the way into the little store that was its source.
"This is where you want to be."
"What? No I want to go home and call that girl," Randy objected, but already she seemed a lot less exciting to him now.
"You'd rather stay here and smoke."
Randy shook his head, "I can't stand smoke. Why would I do that!"
"You don't care if you don't like it."
The young man thought for a moment. He couldn't really refute this new statement. Randy realized that he actually didn't care that he found smoke disgusting. He'd followed it here even though he hated it. It just made sense that he would start smoking it even though he hated it.
He picked up a cigar from the counter. It was already lit, waiting for someone to take it. Randy knew he wasn't going to like it, but that didn't stop him from sucking on the thing for several seconds. He was grateful when he pulled it off his lips, but he knew he was just going to have to keep taking hits.
"That's mine," a voice cut firmly through the silence.
"Oh, sorry," Randy dropped the cigar, embarrassed to be called out by this construction worker. Immediately, he found himself disliking the guy. He was close to his age, but looked like a lowlife laborer.
"Don't let it happen again," Tyler sneered, selfishly snatching the cigar away. In his mind, Randy was just another preppy snob.
"You two like each other."
Instantly, the two guys' opinions changed. It didn't make sense, but they realized they could see each other as friends.
"You two love each other."
"Come here," Tyler barked, feeling himself get hard under his dirty work pants. For some reason, this random college kid was making him feel hornier than his girlfriend had ever been able to.
Randy let the construction worker pull him close. Somehow, he was more excited now than he'd been a few moments earlier with his library date. He eagerly accepted the new cigar, Tyler was pushing into his mouth.
It wasn't long before the new couple were making out in between puffs of their cigars. They'd completely forgotten about the girls they'd once adored, now obsessed with how masculine they each looked smoking their cigars in the middle of the dirty old tobacco shop.
Griff watched from a distance, organizing the merchandise according to the store's instructions. That disembodied voice was constantly whispering in his ear, ordering him around like a puppet with a long string of orders. Griff's principles were long since abandoned.
His only thoughts were the thoughts the voice put in there.
"Finish unloading the cigarettes, and then go upstairs. Pull out the mattresses, but don't bother cleaning anything. The construction worker and college student can be made comfortable in the dust and grime. Pull out another mattress for yourself. If the policeman comes back you will be servicing him all night as to thank him for protecting us..."
The instructions droned on and on in Griff's head, as he mindlessly followed its whim. A cigar hung from his lips, although he needed a regular reminder to smoke it.
Randy and Tyler were getting more aggressive near the counter. Their lust for the smoke and each other was only growing stronger each second.
Meanwhile, several blocks away, Officer Nichols was on his way back to the shop. The man was determined to unleash his new dark side on someone, and something told him that the clerk at the tobacconist shop would be perfect.
