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Description
Focusing on her fresh pack of Lucky's, her body began to cramp. Like the unveiling of a statue, she slowly unwrapped the pack of cigarettes from its tacky plastic cover and stuffed it into the trash. Clumsily opening the top of the pack, she slid out the first of many Cancer Sticks and closed it quickly shut. Absently shoving it into her butt pocket, she smirked at the man watching her from across the street. Slipping her right hand into her shirt (her left was still holding the cig), she cupped her breast, feeling its warmth. She pulled out the cheap, plastic lighter she’d bought the other day and raised the cig to her lips.
She let it hang there, while she used one hand to flick the lighter on, the other hand cupping around it to save the flame from the wind. Leaning her weight against the brick apartment complex, she took the first drag and slipped the lighter back down her shirt. Dropping her jaw, she slowly let her breath out. The smoke poured from her lips, curling and dancing its way down with the breeze. It quickly fading slowly to nothing, as it always did. She had sat in front of the mirror with dozens of packs, practicing what her friends called the Fuck Me.
The man, she could see, was obviously attracted to her. Not once had he moved his eyes from her. He rose from his place and strode over to her. She watched him, her guard going up. She wanted to enjoy her simply pleasure without trouble, and this guy look so very far from sober.

Description
Focusing on her fresh pack of Lucky's, her body began to cramp. Like the unveiling of a statue, she slowly unwrapped the pack of cigarettes from its tacky plastic cover and stuffed it into the trash. Clumsily opening the top of the pack, she slid out the first of many Cancer Sticks and closed it quickly shut. Absently shoving it into her butt pocket, she smirked at the man watching her from across the street. Slipping her right hand into her shirt (her left was still holding the cig), she cupped her breast, feeling its warmth. She pulled out the cheap, plastic lighter she’d bought the other day and raised the cig to her lips.
She let it hang there, while she used one hand to flick the lighter on, the other hand cupping around it to save the flame from the wind. Leaning her weight against the brick apartment complex, she took the first drag and slipped the lighter back down her shirt. Dropping her jaw, she slowly let her breath out. The smoke poured from her lips, curling and dancing its way down with the breeze. It quickly fading slowly to nothing, as it always did. She had sat in front of the mirror with dozens of packs, practicing what her friends called the Fuck Me.
The man, she could see, was obviously attracted to her. Not once had he moved his eyes from her. He rose from his place and strode over to her. She watched him, her guard going up. She wanted to enjoy her simply pleasure without trouble, and this guy look so very far from sober.