We sat at the bar talking. It was going unbelievably well. First meetings can be filled with awkward silences, and if there had been any, it wouldn't have been unexpected. But there were none. Conversation flowed smoothly, with one story, quip, and anecdote leading into another. He had me laughing to the point of aching cheeks. He complimented me, telling me how pretty I looked, and I blushed. The attraction was growing. I felt flushed and giddy. I could feel my eyes sparkling.
And then, right in the middle of me speaking, he kissed me. Quickly. Sweetly. No tongue. Just a peck, and then he resumed listening to me. But I had lost my train of thought. I blushed again with my eyes downcast; a smile spreading across my face despite myself.
I cannot remember the last time I was kissed with such innocent sexiness. It didn't stay innocent for long, happily, and he has proven to have a sexually aggressive side that I will continue to encourage. But that first tender kiss showed such consideration and promise as to make this cynical and jaded creature begin to believe in possibilities again.