PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

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It was a dark room he laid in. The window casting barely enough light for her to see what he was feeling. Were his words matching the tremor in his voice? Or once again was he pulling from his satchel of spy novel tactics, words to appease her. 
"I tried to write this to you in an email, but it kept coming back as error, recipient not known."
His computer ineptness was endearing at most, so she it let slide. His knowledge of the informants back ground would be invaluable. 
So she cuddled closer to him, their relationship unresolved. Seriously, did he not have grandchildren that could have helped him send a simple email? 
She sat up in a bolt, " You never tried to send an email. You totally forgot!"
"I didn't, I didn't, I swear," and he grab her waist as she tried to exit the bed. Pulling her back down gently but with purpose, she was on her back and he in her face kissing her protest back to submission. 
"I don't have security clearance to get past your firewall. You need to change that."
Was he taking emails now or had he gained some knowledge she was anxious to learn from him. 
He had new intelligence and her firewall fell.