Une femme fatale' smokes as she should smoke: elegantly, detached and showing a certain allure of superiority. I feel amazing and stylish wearing a leather dress, unbuttoned so my tits are bare and visible, a pair of torn stockings, glasses and, of course, my long blond hair which makes me look like a mermaid. As I sit on the floor, I look into your eyes and light a cigarette. I use matches, they are more classy than an ordinary lighter. I play with the long matches a bit, I light one, I blow it out, light another one... you get the idea. I smoke Marlboro Red 100's, they have this harsh, masculine touch which completes my entire attitude and appearance. I inhale the smoke, the I exhale all of it in a long tulle directly into your face. Because I can! My cigarette is good, nothing could ever replace this unique taste, it's like burnt wood and mead, exquisitely combined on my tongue. It's a shame that they only last a couple of minutes, I wish I'd have an endless cigarette, I'd exhale breathe it's smoke all the time, instead of air. I smoke so much that I imagine my lungs are black, coated with tar... my lungs are goth. After I smoke it, I extinguish it in my metal shell ashtray (it reminds me that I'm a goth mermaid