"What's this?" His voice whispered across my neck as fingers lightly traced the skin

of my lower back, tickling the hairs upright.

"What?" I shivered in delight, not really paying attention to the context of the

conversation, but rather paying attention to the fact that we were having this

conversation at all. That I was naked. That he was naked. That we were both naked.

In a bed. Together. And I smiled in remembrance of just what had occurred several

hours ago (and at least two more times since then) to get us sans clothes in this bed.

"This scar on your lower back, near your left kidney." He continued the conversation.

"Oh." I shrugged, trying to get my mind back to the present and away from the

delicious memories of the last few hours. "Battle scar."

"From?"

"The war." I replied evasively, an evil grin flitting over my face. He lightly slapped

my butt in rebuke, then continued to trace his fingers over my back.

"Is this the mole?" He asked, finger on a spot just above the right cheek of my

bottom.

"Hmmm?" I was distracted again.

"You know, the mole. The one that no one knows the whereabouts of." His fingers

were tracing it lightly, round and round. I could feel the edge of the nail lightly

scraping my skin, sending yet more shivers down my back bone and making my skin

goose-bump in pleasure.

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose that must be it." Who cared about the damn mole? Just so

long as he kept up that little caress with his fingers. Let's get our priorities straight

here, shall we?

"Huh." He breathed into my neck. I managed to last all of two minutes before my

curiosity overtook my languor.

"Huh, what?" I peered over my shoulder to find him grinning back at me.

"Nothing." He said evasively. I turned over and mock-glared at him. He kept

grinning, ducking down to kiss my lips lightly. I bit his lip gently in punishment, but

from his reaction, I'd miscalculated somewhere. I pulled back quite a while later,

catching my breath and staring into his eyes with a small gentle smile on my face.

"So."

"So."

"Two weeks." He said cryptically. I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. He smiled

down at me. "It's been two weeks and one date since I retired." I counted back, and

realised he was right. Two weeks ago today, he'd retired. And last night, we'd gone

on our first 'date' date. He'd picked me up from my house, presenting me with a

gorgeous white tulip, and we'd gone out to eat at a small Italian restaurant. Good

food, good wine, and a companion who made my skin tingle and my mind stop – a

truly remarkable feat - made for the most idealic of dates. As can be attested to by the

result. Him. Me. Naked. In his bed, in his house.

"Wow." I whispered, stroking down his whiskered cheek gently.

"Yeah. If you're like this on our first date, you're gonna kill me on the third." He

chuckled, then rolled out of bed before I could retaliate. "One thing's for sure," he

continued, "if you do I'd die a happy man."

The door to the bathroom slid shut as he finished his comment, and I lay back with a

silly grin on my face, settling into the sheets with a small murmur of content. And

started plotting my strategy for our second date. The third would take care of itself.

-fin-