RICK
Christine lives on the forty-sixth floor of a high-rise apartment. She unlocks the door and enters dropping her bag on the table in the entrance hall as she turns to hold the door open for me. I step in and she closes and locks the door behind me. Before I can wander further into the apartment, she catches my hand and pulls me back to where she is now leaning against the door.
She pulls me close and our lips meet as my hands settle on her hips. Our kisses are brief, teasing, exploring, wanting more. Then I take her face in my hands and fix my lips to hers. My tongue pushes forward and her lips part willingly inviting entry. Our tongues collide and writhe like lovers, exploring and sharing our desire and passion.