Intoxicating

It's time for my cigarette. i put on lip gloss - it looks so elegant in this lovely light when i am smoking. i flick my zippo, my cigarette roars to life. the zippos has such a strong, metal, mechanical sound. a tool, not just a piece of plastic. the flame is mesmerizing, like a dancer. i insert the cork filter into my plump pink glistening lips. after a visit to my warm mouth, the filter shines like glass. i inhale and now it is everything i have ever loved about smoking: it's satisfying. addictive. necessary. irresistible. intoxicating. i want to blow all my smoke in your face. i love to do that. you love when i do that. i know that my smoke is intoxicating. i like to get nice and close to you, so you can smell me - not just my smoke. smell *me.* the smell of a smoking girl who has smoked so long she cannot imagine a life without smoke. now look deep into my amazing brown eyes as i exhale slowly, the smoke quivering then evaporating in the cold air. i sigh mmmmmm with satisfaction as the first drag hits the back of my throat and the nicotine enters my bloodstream. you like what you are seeing and smelling, don't you? oh, yes. yes, you do. i can ... tell. of course you do. my lips form a perfect round o. you can't take your eyes off that; don't even try. i reach the end of the cigarette, really just filter and ash at this point, squeezing every drop of pleasure from the white tube to my lips to my lungs. so good. i deserve this. you deserve this. we deserve this.