He passed the small blue pipe to her, and she took it, making sure to brush her fingers against his in a lingering touch. She wanted his eyes on her, focused on the way her lips closed lightly around the base, how the fire from the lighter danced in her eyes, adding even more heat as she stared deep into his own.
But she was never one to inhale, choosing instead to have the smoke swirl around in her mouth, waiting to exhale the breath that would never cloud in front of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the high, but rather a different one, a high that lasted longer and wouldn’t damage her voice. After all, it was one of the the features that drew him to her. (more…)
A Feathered Letter 