One of my Flamingo Friends, ECD, sent me a fantasy of his. I enjoyed reading it and thought I would share.
Here would be the scenario of everything I like in a smoking woman:
She is young, with coppery red curls and does not look at all like a smoker. She sits down beside me on a bench outside some mall, that is marked no smoking. She lights up an all-white without asking me if I mind that she smokes. Every puff blows right in my face , thick and rich and spicy, thanks to her position and the angle of the gentle breeze and she knows it but doesn’t really care. If it bothers me, I could get up and leave, right?
That was the last cigarette in her pack, so she simply drops the pack on the ground, followed by the cigarette as she finishes it, after which she opens a fresh pack, letting the breeze catch the strip of cellophane. She’s got a Starbucks cup of coffee with her, too, which she casually leaves behind on the ground when she finally leaves. Although her makeup is light and girl-next-door, her lipstick is heavy enough to leave a clear impression on the snow-white filter tips of both her cigarettes.
She doesn’t bother to crush out her cigarettes, just drops them. What she does crush, purposefully but casually, is a small trail of ants that wended its way past the bench.
When she gets up to leave, I admire the perfect shifting curves of her perfect bottom in her tight white skirt as she saunters away. I also notice that I am actually speckled with ashes — she cared so little about my presence that she simply ashed her cigarette in the air near me as she raised it to her lips, ensuring that most of them drifted onto me.
Do you have a particular smoking fantasy?
I would love for you to leave them in the comments for us all to review!