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Coffee-drinking girl sexily NEEDING her early morning all-white cigarette.

Posted by John Peters , Jul 19,2001,06:38

I was in a cafe at eight o'clock a few mornings ago. I decided to sit in one of the smoking areas to see if there would be any sitings to perk me up at that early hour of the morning. A woman of around thirty years of age came in and quickly sat at the table in front of me with her back turned. A soft pack of Newports (a rare brand in this country) appeared almost immediately on the marble table top. That caught my attention. She quickly extracted a cigarette and deftly lit it, speed being of the essence. I'm sure she wasn't thinking about how elegantly she performed this task but it had an unconscious poise in it all the same. I reckon she'd hardly been able to wait for this treat between her journey to work and the long smokeless day ahead. I struggled to watch her exhales but couldn't see them too clearly.

The next day, I saw her walking rapidly to the cafe, no doubt looking foward to her light-up. The third day this woman, whom I'll call Miss Newport, came in to the cafe and again immediately lit up. She sat not too many tables from me. After a while I turned to look at her cigarette, her face and her figure. She was sitting sexily side on, her slim not-too-delicately-feminine body, clad in a black thin woollen top, black thin trousers and plain black boot-type shoes with an elegant heel. Her long hair was tied at the back. I thought she was quite plain in face the first time I saw her, but this time I thought she looked good. She is bound to have seen me in her peripheral vision and, though I feasted my eyes for at least ten seconds, she didn't offer a quick look of rebuke, but continued rather to write something on a piece of paper while drinking coffee.

She smoked two cigarettes, Berkeleys this time. At the start of her second, I heard her lighter click and I immediately looked over without thinking what I was doing; my senses were razor sharp and the sound of a lighter is delightful. I was in time to see the fresh king-sized all-white held firmly and purposely between her lips, projecting horizontally. It was ready to impart its rich satisfaction to its owner. She left shortly after she had reduced it to a stub and I was so pleased that she left her empty pack behind. I admired its green colour and classy design. It was a firm box, unlike the soft green and white Newport pack she was using a few days ago. I wondered if I would be able to retrieve the empty box. I was able to, and placed it in my jacket pocket. I could feel its rectangular shape as I went about my day's work. When I got home, I placed it on a ledge. When I look at it, it reminds me the pleasure her smoking gave me. The box is empty but it still smells of the fresh tobacco she was so recently smoking. Maybe when I see her again, I'll be able to get a better idea of her overall style. I look forward to that.