Boston
One of the major criteria I use to decide who I'm going to visit is smoking status. Unlike many (most?) guys nowadays, I seek out ladies who smoke - this is my fetish. Guess I bought into the elegant picture the tobacco companies portrayed when I was young, and it stuck. Cigarette smokers are OK - I have a nice assortment of holders to play with - but I really look for the lady who enjoys a good cigar. The entire "femme fatale" scenario cums 
into focus. I found several ladies who love to indulge in a nice Cuban - met up with one a while ago down south. Because of gents who don't like the odor (I call it the aroma myself), I got the room. She came in, dressed down but cute, excused herself to the bathroom, and came out several minutes later wearing a crotchless black leather corset and a bright red lipstick. She went to the dresser, chose the biggest cigar there, and asked for a light. She played the end of the cigar through the flame as she played with my hardening cock. She slowly swirled her tongue around the end of the cigar, occasionally taking it deep through her moist, shapely lips. With a smile, and without a word, she kneeled in front of me, ditched my laundry, and started a nice, slow handjob while taking deep drags on her cigar. She teased me with her tongue - a couple of gentle touches on my tip - and looked up at me with mischief in her eyes. I'd had enough - I gently grabbed the back of her head and eased my cock into her mouth. She would suck, and lick, and suck, while giving the cigar to the same treatment. She drifted down to my balls, tongueing and sucking, occasionally letting the fragrant smoke drift up, while she stroked the shaft with her free hand. She was into it now, swallowing me whole, working it with her tongue inside her mouth. We were where we wanted to be, in our own little bubble. We were so into it at this point that neither of us noticed the cigar getting closer and closer to my groin until...HOLY SHIT!!!! I shot, and the lit cigar hit my skin, at exactly the same moment! Didn't know whether to shit or wind my watch. I came off the floor with a yelp - she jumped back, mortified, and started apologizing profusely. I was laughing hysterically at the sequence of events - she was looking at the red spot with a pile of guilt. I sat her on the couch, calmed her down, and we resumed - I asked her to gently season the cigar for me (MMMM!), and we went back to our session with no ill effects, renewed vigor, and the cigar! I still have the mark, but it's not nearly as deep as the visual etched in my mind. Now THAT'S a session with a Femme Fatale! I now have a GREAT connection for fresh Cubans - anyone interested?