I called maintenance and they send you. When you crawl under my sink, your shirt hikes over your taunt stomach. Hovering over you, the smell of your sweet sweat intoxicates me. I know you move beside me…letting your arm brush mine….on purpose.
Our clothes pile on the kitchen floor. The counter digs into my back. My fingernails leave my mark on your skin. Your sweat is all I can smell and taste.
Tomorrow, I think my toilet will break. Again.