I am stunned at the intimacy. My hands! Oh, stop. It’s too much. I’m whimpering inside, maybe outside, too. She makes tiny circles in my palms. He... fingers stroke mine, one at a time—base to tip—pulling me away from my self. Stop! No. No, don’t. Don’t stop—ever. I’ve never been touched in this way. I’m exposed. It’s frightening—and liberating. I ache when I think of all the beauty I’ve allowed to pass me by. A single tear drips onto the floor, and with it goes my fear. All the resistance, all. Then suddenly I see the look, a bit to much wine and a few to many strokes against the back of her tongue. I pull out and let go of her hair and she immediately runs for the toilet. I put my stuff away and start chatting with my friend not sure if I should apologize or keep it where it is. A bit later we check on her and find her completely drunk singing to the toilet and I say goodnight as I head to the couch.I wake up early as usual and sit out on the step with a cup of coffee and a smoke. More

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