What I learned from fingertips under the table

So Brian says as if he's surprised, as if he's bemused amused and shocked, that it's "funny" how sexual this whole thing has been. Yes, "thing" because we haven't got a word for it.

But listen how it started - we work together. We're out for drinks and our hands meet under the table. A surprise! Casually, subtly, we explore palms and fingertips and forearms as it gets later and people start to bow out, push back their chairs, leave.

They're little diplomatic parties, these sensitive fingertipped apparati. They greeted, they treatied, they explored and made agreements, while heads and mouths talked about system security and karate. Our hands already knew, before the tip was calculated, that we'd walk home holding hands in a row: me, Brian, and his bike.

We kissed that night and tried out each others' scent. I sent him home, but it was only a matter of time. It is surprising that we, who both like to listen and respond, fell together so easily, over and over? What else does he expect?

Some things are too easy. I'm waiting for the fall.

 

 

1. She has smooth fingernails on 9 of her fingers, but

not the 10th.   Her index finger has a chip.   Unsure if this is accidental. 

 

2.  She has two rings on her right hand  (thumb, middle).    One of them has the sign of infinity.   

I hope this means optimism.  

 

3.  She has a callous on the inside or her left thumb,  which confirms my guess that she is left handed.

Probably. 

 

4.  She warms up my hand without making it sweaty.    This is trickier than you might imagine.

 

5.   Sometimes she squeezes my hand tightly.   She is stronger than she looks.  

She looks very strong.