Please don't call me on the phone,
it's really hard when he's at home.
I have to say, "Oh yes, Oh quite,"
when I just long to hold you tight.
I say, "Goodbye," he asks, "who's that?"
How I'd love to say, "It's Pussycat."
Instead I turn, give him a smile,
"Just Sue, she called to chat awhile."
He gives a stare, a great big sigh;
Oh God, I think I'm going to die.
My face is flushed, my heart a-flutter,
all I can hear is subdued mutter.
I'm sure he's seeing right through me,
Oh please I pray, go watch TV.
He shuffles, grunts, then turns away
and I live to fight another day.

I breath again in deep relief,
steal from the room just like a thief.
How much I need my lover's touch,
just one more second seems to much.
Then inspiration comes to me,
there's my escape! We're out of tea.
I grab my keys, throw on my coat,
say "won't be long, I must pop out."
I count the minutes, count the miles,
just moments 'til I see his smile.
A final corner, then I'm there,
screech to a halt and brush my hair.
Run up the drive and press the bell,
the door swings wide and I am well.
Drowned in the look upon his face,
the sweetness of his strong embrace.

Then to the couch in frantic haste,
we disrobe quickly, bare, unchaste.
He strains, I gasp out in delight,
wish I could stay the whole of night.
Enclosed, entwined, in lover's song,
I want it to go on and on.
But all to soon he gives a cry,
and I hold him to me with a sigh.
Feel all the love he has inside
wash through me like the ocean tide.
We kiss; I gasp; I see the time,
We've spent to long in tangled rhyme.
I sweep my clothes up from the floor,
dress frantically, head for the door.
Get in my car, wave him goodbye.
Hold back the tears, try not to cry.

"I'm home," I trill, "I've got the tea,"
My alibi, my lie, you see.
He doesn't get up from the chair,
just turns and gives a nasty stare.
"You took your time," he snarls at me,
"a ruddy hour to get some tea?"
"I'm sorry," is my faint reply,
"I browsed and time just passed me by."
He frowns, then looks me in the eye,
Oh God, I think I'm going to die.
"I'm off," he says, "down to the pub.
I'm bloody starved, I've had no grub."
I watch him leave, he slams the door,
I remember clothing on the floor.
A sweet embrace that held me tight.
Next time I know I'll stay the night.