That first long kiss tasted good

Better than the head of a creamy stout

She looked like an angel or atleast her image was frosted by the cigarette smoke

She slid on to my lap, pressing my back into the ancient iron radiator in the bar

Despite the twinge I paused long enough to allow her red locks to dangle and curtain our moment

Delaying the touch of lips was achingly pleasurable

Her warm breath pulled me to the edge and right over

Her index finger curled and seeking, found my sweetspot near my neck

No distinguishable music

No eye contact

But I drank her kiss

Until her glass emptied and I sipped each drop as it was my last.

A satisfied sigh