Bing.
A caller far below me,
Standing in the cold outside,
Unaware that I am bathing,
Unaware I'm comfy there.

Bong.
They know me, why else pause there?
Maybe I should leave my bath.
Here's much warmer, though, than outside -
They can leave a note for me.

Bing.
Bong bing bong bing bong bing bong.
Bugger. Now I know they know me.
Heave, drip, towel, wrap, leave the warmth,
Splat wet footprints down the stairs.

Bing.
Alright, I'm there. And freezing.
Pause in wonder, reach for door,
Switch the light on, turn to see
You! Shit! What have I done wrong?

Bong.
I gulp. You smile. I gesture.
In you come. I close the door.
"What's the minimal attire for?"
As we climb, each of us staring.

Seconds after we arrive at
My relieving, cosy hall,
You remove and drop on my floor
First your hat then coat then, quite sure

Of just what you think you're doing
My towel too. I turn bright red,
Almost missing, as my head falls,
Your strip too. Next thing, we're sat

In my deep, alluring sofa,
Arms entwined and tongues exploring,
Hearts competing, everything said
Through our flaming flesh. You fling

Fingers where I've never felt them,
Breaths in places long forgotten.
On my skin, I feel no ring!
Gasp! We fall from sighing sofa

For the blazing floor and sheepskin,
Drawing one another higher,
Stretching in a kind of prayer when
Your flower hides my swaying stem.

Pounding breasts; new self-esteem;
Burning carpet; screaming sax;
Sizzling passion; cackling fire;
Prize once lost that now I win;

Faster; slower; selfish; share;
In complete control, then raving;
Soon converging into climax.
Goodbye, sleep.
Good morning, dream.