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I was hitch hiking from the beach on a lovely hot day. Aah to be to be young and on holidays in the summer. It had been a long day at the beach and I was burned in more way than one. The sun was almost setting and the earth radiated a deep warm glow.

I climbed into the Mercedes in my t-shirt and my loose denim shorts, salty and fraying at the cut off legs. The older man, East Indian I think, with greying hair, offered me a cigarette. And I put his offering between my lips.

The cigarette had very sweet taste. It was new to me. I looked at the pack. I had never seen them before - Love Cigarettes. I smiled. There was a picture of a woman on the box too, a dark woman in a very short skirt.

‘You like them' - he asked.

‘What?'

‘The smokes, you like them' - he purred in a low resonant baritone that seemed to play on my flared nostrils like a flute, sending strange shivers down my back. I did like the taste. I took a long pull and answered him

‘Ya, they real good man, real good.' As I exhaled the smoke seemed to ...

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