Agent with a History

  *****

  I had the best evening of my life. He took me to a swanky restaurant that I don’t think I’d have ever had the nerve to go to alone, much less be able to get a reservation to.

  We walked right in and were seated at one of the best tables in the place, without a reservation. Apparently Flint was something of a regular here and one well liked by the owner.

  We ate, but most of all we talked. I don't exactly remember what we had talked about now, other than it had been a little bit about everything and nothing in particular.

  It had been great, and sometime during the laughing and aimless talking I had fallen in love with him. I hadn't wanted it to end, but he hadn’t disappointed me any when we had gotten back to the house, after our dinner had stretched past three hours in length.

  He had taken me up to my room, pressed me back up against the door and kissed me into passionate oblivion. At some point he had stopped, opened the door and gently pushed me inside, before closing the door and walking away.

  I had slipped the night dress on that he had been thoughtful enough to buy me and crawled into the super comfortable bed, my mind and heart awash with all things Flint.