ISF #61. Imagining A Cigarette Into The Hand of a Brunette Beauty in White Shorts

I was on quite a roll during the period just before and after dusk on my Wednesday half-day visit of the 2012 Iowa State Fair, and the final sighting in this stretch of greatness took place on the fairgrounds’ south side.  I found myself walking to the rear and just parallel to two young couples in their early 20s.  The one girl in the group of four stood out, a perfectly wholesome-looking brunette with shoulder-length hair wearing a blue tanktop and white cutoffs that were frayed at the bottom.  It was one insanely sexy image and she had a perfect body.  She was beautiful too….not in the “most gorgeous girl at the fair” sense, but in the “girl-next-door who you’re always looking out the window as she walks by as a teenage boy” sense.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could see a girl like that smoking a cigarette tonight, I thought to myself as I studied her awesome feminine profile from the diagonal rear.  No sooner did that thought cross my mind when I saw her up-to-that-point obstructed right hand approach her mouth with a half-smoked cigarette and take a drag.  It was one of those moments that make your knees buckle, seeing her make that cherry of her cigarette glow bright red in the night sky as she wrapped her mouth around that filter and breathed in the cancerous chemicals.

I quickened my pace so I could get a frontal view of her and the rest of her group.  She was a solid 9 beauty-wise, with that incredible presentation with the blue tanktop and frayed white cutoffs making her positively irresistible as she walked hand in hand with yet another nonsmoking boyfriend who is perfectly content with enduring the incessant stench of a smoking girlfriend as any sane male would do for a girl of her caliber.  Indeed the other nondescript couple was also nonsmokers, so my girl was the only one of the four stinking up the fairgrounds.  I got to see three more drags, all nice but none particularly distinctive in a style sense before she dropped the cigarette to the ground and made a halfhearted effort to stomp it out, but not even succeeding in squishing the cherry.  I had no problem identifying it as a cork filter Camel Blue.

I followed them briefly towards an obscure stage where live music of some sort was playing.  The sighting had played out, however, so I ventured on, obviously walking on cloud nine and texting a friend bragging about what a great night I was having even though the night stopped being great at that exact moment.

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