We were on our way up to the lake for the summer, the summer of my 15th year. I was not thrilled about spending a whole week cooped up at a cabin with my parents and my little sister. But none of my attempts to weasel out of the trip had had any effect.

I stared outside at the scenery -- miles and miles of boring trees. Nobody out here but us. Nobody but us would hang out a whole week at this bug-infested swamp of a lake. That's why my dad liked the place: solitude.

We hadn't seen a car for miles. Then suddenly, we did -- coming up fast behind us. Really fast. It blasted around us on the two lane dirt road and I heard dad mutter a curse. Especially when it slowed way down, as its driver hit a really rough pothole and thought better, apparently, of trying to win the race.

My fifteen year old senses suddenly quickened when I saw the toss of a long, blonde ponytail and realized it wasn't some crazy old backwoods coot at the wheel, but a girl. And there were three others in there, too.

A pretty hand extended from the back window, and with a flourish, flung a bag of fast food trash onto the shoulder of the road. My dad cursed again and I saw my mom jab him in the ribs.

"Hope the little brats aren't going to be anywhere near us," he growled.

Those certainly weren't my thoughts.

The car stayed ahead of us and my dad stayed madder and madder, especially as two pop cans soon came flying out the windows and one nearly hit our windshield.

"Get their damn license," said my sister.

"Stacy!" said my mother, genuinely shocked but giving my dad the dirty look.

Ah, this was going to be a great week.

My heart beat faster as the rude beauties ahead of us proceeded to take all the same rights and lefts up the mountain, until there was no doubt: we were going to be neighbors.

At last, our cabin came into view. The car in front zoomed on and disappeared around the corner, but we knew these woods well enough to know that its destination was the last cabin on the lake, not a half-mile away from ours.

Dad pulled our car to a stop in front of the cabin. I leaped out.

"We need your help unloading -- don't go anywhere yet," Dad said.

"We can handle it," my mom countered. "Let him go."

"What -- to go flirt with those brat-girls?" he said, giving me a knowing look. I felt my face flush. I had been planning to make up some excuse about seeing how the lake had changed.

"Maybe they need help unloading their stuff," I said.

He snorted. "They dumped it all out along the road."

"Let him go," my mother said. "Let him be fifteen."

He gave in, grudgingly. He usually did, around mom.

I sprinted the whole way, which was stupid, because I reached their cabin as sweaty and out of breath as a kid.

"Well, hello, boy," said the first one to see me, a beautiful, freckled redhead who looked about my age.

"We're down the lake," I said. "Thought you all might need a hand with your luggage."

The other three were gathered around now. They looked at each other and giggled.

"Thanks," said the redhead. "You can carry mine." And she smiled. I hefted her suitcase, which probably weighed about sixty pounds, and struggled up the path to their cabin.

She held the door open and smiled at me again. Damn, she was gorgeous -- in that tight halter top and cut-off jeans. It wasn't the weight of her suitcase that was making me weak.

I tossed it onto a cot with what I hoped was a manly heave. Then I stumbled outside to help unload the rest.

"Have a Coke," said the redhead, after I had finished and the other girls were busy unloading their stuff and not paying me much mind. She tossed it to me and I gratefully gulped the cool liquid down.

"I need a shower, Lisa," said the oldest girl, suddenly. "Send your boyfriend away."

"Kelly!" said the redhead, Lisa -- what a name for a goddess! "He just carried all your crap in. Let him rest."

"I'm okay," I said. "I'll head on back."

"No, you won't," she said. "Let's just go outside until Kelly fru-fru finishes her beauty bath."

So we went out together, exploring the area around their cabin. I couldn't believe I felt this comfortable around such a gorgeous girl.

She plunked herself down all of a sudden onto a moss-covered rock near the edge of the lake. And from her fanny pack, she took out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. My heart skipped a beat.

"You smoke?" she asked. I nodded. It wasn't really a lie. I knew how to smoke, just wasn't much for it. But I knew she would make it look beautiful and I watched eagerly as she extricated a long, white cigarette and set it in her lips. She touched her lighter to it and inhaled expertly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. I could see her luminous green eyes through the curtain of smoke that now escaped her lips.

She handed me the cigarette and I took it carefully and put it to my lips, feeling the fresh, warm dampness of her mouth on the filter. I inhaled, feeling the rush of nicotine soon smacking my brain as I handed it back to her. She took another drag, opening her mouth to reveal beautiful, white teeth like pearls, shining in the creamy smoke. Her eyes met mine and I felt the warm rush of her exhale wash over me.

Now, she leaned back, stretching like a cat. Her fine, pert breasts stood in delicious profile, twin peaks of loveliness hardly concealed by the thin fabric of her top. She put the cigarette to her lips again and this time, inhaled without hands, leaning her head back in exultation to blow the smoke in a straight-up-in-the air stream.

I was quivering, shaken by absolute adoration of this goddess. She handed me back the cigarette and I took another puff, though my head was already spinning and I shouldn't have.

She reached in her fanny pack again and took out a hairbrush. She handed it to me, then tossed her flaming curls and leaned close to me. I took that soft, silky, surprisingly heavy mane in my shaking hands and began to brush. Lord, I was in absolute heaven.

The cigarette glowed in her lips and I could see her cheeks cave in, sucking the smoke in deeply. It didn't occur to me then that such an inhale was a girl's instinctive way of calming her own nerves around a boy. A half-ring of smoke escaped her lips and rose slowly above her nose. Playfully I leaned over and inhaled -- surprising myself by capturing it in my mouth like some kind of smoke-swallowing goldfish or something.

She giggled, which caused her to cough up the rest of her smoke, which made me giggle, and we both couldn't stop for at least a minute. Then I remembered I still had her beautiful hair in my hands. I applied myself to brushing it, amazed at how it sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, entranced by its warmth and its sweet, girlish fragrance.

She took another puff and exhaled an incredibly long stream -- sighed it out, really, an amazing amount of smoke. Clearly, she was no novice. Then another, and this one she exhaled through her nostrils, steaming out in sexy twin streams that I wanted to drink up like water.

I could have brushed that soft hair of hers until my arms fell off. And she was luxuriating in the sensation like a cat being stroked. I felt like such a man -- like a big, protective bear who would kill anything that dared threatened her.

"I love smoking," she said. "I'm never gonna quit."

"When did you start?" I asked.

"When I was twelve,"she said. "I knew I was gonna love it the first time I actually held a cigarette in my hand. I smoke every day now. It's tough to get through school, though."

And she inhaled again, her lips trembling as she crushed the cigarette between them, dragging in another copious lungful. I leaned over, hoping to catch another escaping ring. But I was too late. At least for that. Suddenly those green eyes were looking into mine. Her lips were invitingly close, achingly close. Something surged within me, wanting to taste them. And she was leaning up towards me. And she exhaled her smoke, in a full, heady rush, as if to hurry it out of the way -- but I was in the way and caught it, hot and sweet.

Our lips met then -- in the middle of her smoke stream. We melted together like candy on a hot stove. Yes, my very first kiss tasted of mint gum and Marlboro cigarette smoke -- and I wouldn't have had it any other way.