every time the same

I walk down the stairs as he comes through the front door.

We clash lips on the 3rd step up, me rubbing my face into his hair and neck to absorb his scent, his hands cupping me from rear and front in urgent succession. My skirt hem is around my hips, his shoes kicked to the hall floor, his feet now slipping on the silk lining of his suit trousers as they descent to his ankles. We hold on to each other as support becomes more necessary than heat, laugh and head for more stable ground but the haste is still upon us and it is good.