Last time they were together, they fought about sweet tea, this time, they fought about nothing &

Last time they were together, they fought about sweet tea, this time, they fought about nothing – or more accurately, because they wanted to. And though they would never admit it, to each other, or anyone else, they have found that something about fighting with the other turns them on. The feeling of denim sliding against denim; the way the other whimpers softly when struck; the smell of their perfumes and hair products mixing as they wrestle body against body; the sound of the other’s heavy breathing as she tries to escape from a well-applied hold; the way that battles are their dirty little secret; and the thought of what their husbands would do if they ever came to know.

It is for all of those reasons that they have met on the stair to their apartments, and for all those reasons that they fought, dragging each other up, until as they reached the top, they suddenly separated, fixed their hair, and as they walked into to greet their husbands, pretended like nothing ever happened – each counting the seconds until the next time they find themselves alone.