Posted by Mark on July 19, 2007, 12:11:02 In other words, I was distracted as I approached the courthouse, so much so that two petite and Barbie-doll cute teenage girls with long manes of blonde hair only barely registered on my radar as they walked from the courthouse to their cars about 50 yards in front of me. They certainly looked like sisters, with one looking 16 and the other looking 13-14. Cute stuff, I was thinking to myself as the girls got into the car. Now mind you the smoking fetish consumed my every thought in the summer of 1999, but I still didn't even consider the possibility here until a sudden flicker of light from inside the girls' car beckoned my instant attention. The 16-ish driver was lighting up her cigaratte. "Didn't see that one coming" I thought to myself as I felt a rush of excitement overwhelm by body. And I had only about two seconds to process that thought when another flicker of light from the passenger seat redirects my attention to the younger girl lighting up her own cigarette. My heart was racing as I sped up my walking pace to get as close of look as possible at these beauty queens before they pulled out. They were so cute it was unbelievable. Girls like this really smoke, I thought to myself as the car backed out and drove off. I watched as the driver held her cigarette hand out the window the traditional way while the adorable younger girl propped her hand up Audrey Hepburn-style, exuding the ideal image that most of us fetishers find so beautiful about early teen smokers. Needless to say, finding the right room in the courthouse to run my errand suddenly became the furthest thing from my mind. But it wasn't until later that I realized the truly astounding context of this sighting. The car was parked in an area of courthouse parking designated for people taking their driving test. This girl had just passed her behind-the-wheel drivers license exam and was having her victory cigarette with her kid sister while making her first legal solo drive. Hotter yet, the court employee who conducts behind-the-wheel tests in my county is a hard-nosed old bird nicknamed "Sarge". The thought crossed my mind of this beautiful blonde driver lighting up as she took her drivers' test with Sarge in the passenger seat....or at the very least, forcing Sarge to sit in this car that reeks of stale cigarette smoke. It's hard to imagine a much hotter sighting than this when you peel away all the layers of what I witnessed. #3--I still remember the specific day--January 24, 2006--only the second day of my new job in central Iowa. On my lunch break, I decided to take a little walk in the chilly Midwestern winter air to see if there were any sightings hotspots in close proximity. I was walking down a sidewalk alongside the major street where my workplace is located, and look to my right to see a large building with a circus of people congregated on the front steps. This was interesting, I thought to myself, immediately reversing course and crossing the street. As I got closer to the huddle, I could see that nearly everyone in the cluster was a young college-age female....and as I got closer still, about three-quarters of these girls were smoking. What the heck was going here, I thought to myself as I approached the building's front entrance to see scores of youthful girls exhaling clouds of cigarette smoke into the winter air. It wasn't until I got right in front of them that I noticed some of the girls were wearing smocks for a cosmetology school. And I'm sure you don't need to be informed that cosmetology is a profession that seems to be dominated by female smokers. The stereotype was clearly panning out here as the nonsmokers in this group were the definite exception. "Could I possibly be so lucky as to work across the street from a cosmetology school and share a lunch hour every day with these girls", I thought to myself with near-breathless giddyness. I paced the sidewalk in front of this building and made a second swing the opposite direction, amazed by the quantity of female smokers, but not necessarily blown away by the specific beauty of any single one of them. Still, nothing to sneeze at here. I kept walking to the side entrance of the building and see three more college-age girls exiting. Two of them were mediocre, but the third girl dominated by attention. She was a slender and beautiful dirty blonde with her long hair running well past her shoulders and resting upon a black leather jacket that was an absolute perfect fit for her. A stunning beauty with an awesome body. The three girls observed the no smoking sign near this entrance of the building and all crossed the street, where packs of cigarettes were produced from all of their purses. The first to light up her Marlboro Light was my leather-draped nicoteen girl who then proceeded to light up her friends amidst the fierce and cold wind. There was no good place to spy on them in the parking lot, but I watched for a minute or so from the inhospitable location where I was forced to stand, watching with delight as the blonde beauty generated a steady stream of exhaust along with her below-the-radar friends. Suffice it to say I found that elusive "hot chick" of this bunch that I didn't catch on the first tour. I walked away expecting a daily allowance of sightings from these girls from that day forward, but this sighting has an unhappy ending. I discovered the next day when I walked to that building that it's a state building and there was no cosmetology school inside. My only conclusion is that the class took a field trip to this state building. It doesn't make much sense for a cosmetology school to send its students on field trips to the random state buildings, but perhaps they had their reasons. But for that one day in January 2006, I saw a virtually limitless parade of college girl smokers who stood to be courted by a gainfully employed young male....preferably one from Minnesota who worked acros the street. And it will always be that feeling that warms my heart whenever I recall that smoky day.
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#4--Another epic sighting made specifically delicious because of the context. It was the summer of 1999, only a couple of months after I had discovered the smoking fetish boards and was out of the closet as a fetisher. I was working at the same rural electric co-op I had worked at two summers earlier and was actively pursuing smoker sightings every chance I got much like I continue to do today. This particularly dreary July day, I had instructions to pick something up at the courthouse for the co-op. I had parked my car and approaching the courthouse's side entry, a bit concerned because this particular courthouse was something of a labyrinth before it's recent reconstruction, and the room I was directed towards for my errand did not sound easy to find.
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