She entered the house after a long day at work.
Throwing her raincoat to the floor, imagining it was that customer who'd ticked her off.
She walked to the kitchen, looking for asprin, paracetamol, anything to get rid of the headache.
Not able to find any, she goes for the next best thing.
As she begins to pour herself a large vodka, she hears it!
A faint thud, upstairs.
She places the bottle down gently and slips off her shoes.
Quietly tip-toeing to the stairs and peering up, her hair tumbling to one side.
She takes one soft step after another, avoiding that creeky 5th step.
As she reaches the top of the stairs her heart begins to race, getting faster.
She hears silence, but knows she heard something.
She looks at the doors, her bedroom door is ajar revealing a darkened room.
Being the strong willed woman that she is, she steps closer.
Still unable to hear anything, she moves closer still.
As she reaches for the door handle, she hesitates, thinks a little and goes for it.
Unarmed, helpless, tired and frustrated, she's not got 2 feet through the door when she feels his presence behind her.
In a split second, a multitude of thoughts run through her mind and her heart races.
She feels one hand on her arm, then darkness falls.
His other hand placed over her eyes.
She begins to struggle but stops almost as quickly.
She knows this is wrong, yet it feels so right.
His touch, the touch of a stranger but still, familliar, yet rough.
The door shuts, forced by a swift kick with his foot.
He walks her round, his back facing the curtains.
His identity hidden by the darkness.
He removes his hand from her eyes.
She turns to face him.
Unable to recognise him she looks at his form with her eyes wide open.
She lifts her hand slowly to his to his face.
He presses his cheek in to her palm.
Her touch, soft and gentle.
His face beaten, worn and rough.
He raises his right hand slowly to her waist.
His left, to the back of her neck.
He pulls her to him, not too quickly.
He takes another deep breath and finally says "I've missed you".
"Tom?" she cries.
Her husband, back on leave.
Savagely, she tears his jacket off, catching his beaten skin with her nails.
Feverishly, but savouring every second of his touch she pushes herself away a little.
Enough to grab him, walk him round and push him on to the bed.
She tugs at his belt, then his trousers.
Wanting him like the sex starved woman that she is, she straddles him.
Grinding her moist, wet lips against his now growing member.
She rips his shirt open.
She pulls the collar down his back a little, restricting his arm movements a little.
She starts to gently scratch at his chest, scarred from battle.
All the more wanting him deep inside her.
Unable to contain herself, she hoists her skirt up, pulls her panties to one side and gasps in delight as she takes him whole.
He struggles to free his arms from his shirt but manages it.
He places his hands on her hips, grabbing, trying to gain some control.
Her breathing getting heavier, she starts to tear at her own blouse.
Buttons flying in every direction.
He reaches up to her heaving chest, knowing he is unable to gain control.
He grabs her breasts, her breathing now getting shallow.
Her bra ripped off, he raises his head, kissing, sucking, nibbling at her hard nipples.
Groaning with delight and pleasure, she bucks her hips, digging her nails in to his chest harder than before.
He feels the pain, the excitment, the passion but is helpless to do anything.
Helpless, he does all that he can, nothing.
Her groans turning to screams.
Her hands reaching down, gently rubbing herself as she rides her soldier to attention.
Her back arched, she shudders knowing that she has to let go completely.
He too, no longer able to contain himself begins to tremble and groan.
His toes begining to curl.
Together they climax.
She collapses in his arms.
Her head resting on his chest, they lay there, quietly.
Drifting away to sleep, both smiling, they cuddle.
A soldiers safe return to the woman he loves.
