Monk and Agnes at Home

This is the first in a series of short vignettes to support the new book in the Monk Buttman series, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God.

She had me cornered. Trapped.

“I need my kisses, Sunshine,” she said, pressing herself against me.

“Kisses?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Buttman, you know the rules regarding kisses.” Agnes’ lips were perilously close to mine.

“I don’t know that I do, beautiful. Perhaps you should refresh my memory.” I kissed her just because.

“Nice try.” She kissed me back. “And why didn’t you pick me up? I had to ask one of the boys to do it!” Agnes worked about two miles away, for Johnny D, a financier both legitimate and otherwise.

I feigned surprise. “The goons brought you home?”

Agnes frowned. “Johnny doesn’t hire goons, Monk.”

“My apologies.” I kissed her again along her neck. “I was finishing up here at your house—”

“Our house,” she corrected me while tilting her head. It was easier to continue kissing her neck that way.

“Sorry, our house. As I was saying,” while kissing, “I was finishing up with the landscape guys. You did notice the work they did, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” she lied.

“So you like what they did with the grass?”

“Sure; very nice.”

I decided to wait till later to mention all the grass had been removed. I didn’t care for grass, or I should say lawn; there were ornamental grasses here and there throughout the yard.

“I also reorganized the kitchen and closets. You don’t mind, do you?” I asked as I reached her collarbone.

“Why would I mind?”

“It’s your house,” I said.

“Our house…”

“Sorry, our house. Do you like what I’ve done?” I returned to her delightful lips.

“Sure; very nice,” she said between kisses.

“You didn’t look.”

“I did.”

“Your eyes are closed, beautiful.” I was smiling as I continued.

Agnes pulled away slightly, opened her eyes, quickly looked from side to side before returning to yours truly. “Very nice. Happy now?”

“I’m not unhappy,” I assured her.

“Good,” she said as she closed the closet door, “and no more interruptions, Sunshine.”

“Yes dear.”

Apparently, home is where the kisses are.

©2019 David WIlliam Pearce