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20 white sticks of pleasure resting on the arm of my chair.

Taking one out as you answer the call to you, I lift it to my lips.

As I greet you you can clearly hear there is something obstructing my speech, and your pulse begins to race. 

You hear the audible click of my lighter and the intake of that first puff.

Imagine it sliding down my throat, filling my lungs momentarily before being thrown out in to the air around me.

Can you smell that unmistakable smell of tobacco?

Think of me right now, taking in long lingering drags, my head is spinning, let me make yours spin too.