In the dimly lit, velvet-draped room, our gothic trans girl, a vision in black lace and smoky makeup, lights up a cigarette. She takes a long, languid drag, her eyes closing in ecstasy as the smoke fills her lungs. She blows out a perfect smoke ring, her fingers tracing the curve of her full lips. Her hands caress her body, tracing the lines of her corset, her fingers dipping into the deep neckline. She smokes, she teases, she entices, her body writhing in a silent, smoky dance.