The perfect hand

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Even though you are only meeting him for the first time, within the first few minutes, he makes you feel like you two have known each other forever.

When your Uber pulls to a stop at a restaurant in Gigiri, you find him waiting for you. He gives you a moment to pay for the ride, then opens the door for you.

Yeah. It is the smile. Must be.

Or is it the way he hugs you gently, that make you feel like you two are the perfect fit?

As the hug break, he holds your hand. His is compact. Warm. The perfect hand to hold you on this chilly evening.

He leads you into the restaurant after noting how amazing you look.

Maybe it is the way he looks at you from across the table as you talk. How he laughs when he thinks you have said something funny, even though you don’t think it was that funny.

You met on Facebook. You commented on a funny meme by a mutual friend and he gave an immediate haha reaction. He slid into your inbox with, “Hey, you are a racket!”

“A racket?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“You crack me up all the time.”

And now at the date, two months later, two months of almost everyday chatting that led to calls, that led to this date, you know, you just know… this is happening. So when he later says, “I want you to come home with me tonight,” you don’t hesitate. You even feel like too much time has been wasted already.

“Yes,” you agree. “Of course.” The sex is just as you imagined it would be. Mind-blowing. You like how his fingers wash down your skin as his shaft fills you with warmth. Lying on his bed in the middle of the night, you feel yourself blossoming out for him like a flower.

He knows how to balance between his needs and your needs and when it is over, he lies on his back beside you, chuckling. “That was insane,” you say, trying to keep your thighs from trembling so noticeably. When he asks that you spend the following weekend at his place – “just the two of us indoors with music, wine, a movie or two” – you say yes and spend the entire week looking forward to it.

Maybe it is the feeling you get when he is looking at you. You feel naked, vulnerable… and yet when he smiles at you, you swear you are the most special woman in his world. And he makes the darkest jokes. Saturday night, you are under the covers in a post coital pose.

Your head on his chest, his arm at the back of his head, as he stares at the ceiling. You came over about two hours ago after having spent the entire day at the salon, getting your hair and nails done. You wanted, no, you needed to look good for him. And now after multiple orgasms and a pool of sweat, you are thinking maybe you should have just postponed the salon until the following day. “What do you want from me?” you find yourself asking and immediately bite your tongue. ‘Too soon,’ you reprimand yourself. Too soon.

“Are we having the ‘where is this going?’ conversation already?” He asks and your first thought is defend yourself. You go with your second thought.

“What if we are?” He chuckles.

“Well,” he says. “I have a body under the bed that I could use some help getting rid of.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. You hate that he has interrupted your serious moment with a joke, but you appreciate it at the same time.

“I’m serious,” you push. “What do you want from me?”

“So, I will be getting rid of the body alone?”

“Ah, aki si you be serious for a minute.”

“OK, OK. Sorry. Tell you what, we have only be hanging out…”

“…hanging out?”

“You know what I mean.”

You feel bad. Maybe you are pushing too hard. You decide to keep quiet and let him talk.

“Spend another weekend with me. We could skip town for a bit. Maybe go bungee jumping in Sagana or something. And then, we can have the talk.”

“Sounds good,” you say. And you mean it. But because you still feel a little bad for pushing it so soon, you circle back to his earlier joke.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Who is who?”

“The body you need help moving. Whose is it?”

“Oh, just some girl’s over there.”

“Yeah? What did she do?”

“Well, for starters, she didn’t like movies. I mean, who doesn’t like movies?” You laugh. He laughs.

“You know what would be funny though?” You sweep a tuft of rogue hair off your face. “You having an actual body under the bed and me lying here, all clueless, having a laugh about it.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That would be funny.”

You go bungee jumping in Sagana the following weekend. It is as horrifying as you thought it would be, but having him beside you makes it all worthwhile.

Months pass. The sex gets even better as you two get to know each other even more. You have a few stuff at his place now. A dress here, a coat there, a pair of shoes here, your toothbrush and a few earrings here and there…

You really feel at home with him.

Just the other morning as you were leaving for work after spending the entire weekend with him, you locked lips with him at the door. He was holding a coffee mug and his lips were warm and sweet.

The kiss engulfed you like a warm blanket. And the words “I love you” came tumbling out.

You froze when you said them. You hadn’t even given it a real thought. You slapped a palm over your lips, your eyes scouring his face for thoughts.

“I know,” he said. “You have loved me for a long time now. Maybe that is why I love you a little bit more.” You wanted him.

You wanted him right there at the door. “Can I take you out tonight?” you asked instead and he said, “I have just the clothes for the occasion.”

And now this Sunday evening as you lie in another post coital pose in his bed, you start toying with the idea of moving in with him. Or, you two moving into a place you can call your own.

He enters the bedroom from the kitchen, naked, a tall glass of fresh juice in hand.

“Something to give you your energy back.” he smiles, handing over the glass.

You roll over on your stomach, pressing your breasts into his pillow. You take the glass. It is cold, the juice therein, being the most welcoming liquid you have seen in a while.

He smiles – oh, that smile!!! That smile!! – “You are beautiful, you know?” he says, his eyes narrowing with the warmth of his smile.

Yeah. Moving in together would be a good idea.

You sip the juice. “Babe…” you start and then shut your eyes. Mmmmmh. That juice is hitting a spot. “Oh God, this is so good.” You Take another sip as he says his thanks. “Babe, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” he prompts, smiling encouragingly.

“Well, you know I love spending time with you, right?”


“And we love each other so much and we make such a great team…”

“Yeah.” He cuts in. “Whatever you want, the answer is yes.”

“Wait. Wait. What? But you haven’t even heard what I want to say.”

“Then say it.”


“Come on. Say it.”


Deep breath. Another sip of the juice. “I want us to move in together. I think we are ready for that.”

“We shall start house hunting tomorrow.”

Sometimes he is too sure about things. Like he has been to the future, seen how great it is, and then come back to the present, confident in each and every one of his steps.

It can be a bit anticlimactic sometimes. But no-one is perfect.

And then as usual, he butts into the moment with another one of his dark jokes. “What if I told you the juice is poisoned?”

Your first instinct is to laugh, but you have a mouthful of juice right now. Struggling not to laugh, you swallow it. It is a small miracle that you don’t choke.

“That is not funny!” you say, still laughing and he laughs with you. “What would you do without me in your life?”

“Probably go on Facebook and find another girl.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

You want to get up. Seal the ‘moving in together’ deal with a kiss and a hug. Maybe another shag.

But your head feels woozy. You blink. You stroke the bridge of your nose.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, handing him the glass as you feel your hear slowing down. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

He takes the glass. “Maybe it’s the poison,” he says.

“Now is not the time.”

“I’m being serious. Poison does weird things to the body. It kills too.”

“Babe, come on…” you freeze. You are looking right into his eyes. You have always loved how vulnerable and naked they make you feel. You have sometimes found it unnerving how he looks at you, but that has always been part of the charm. But now, you just feel cold. “What did you do?”

“Nothing you couldn’t have seen coming if your eyes weren’t so tightly shut.”

“I trusted you.”

“Yeah. I’m really good at this, aren’t I?”

You can’t move. You can barely breathe. Your eyes are failing you. And you hate just how scared you feel.

Thirty minutes before the girl he has been seeing behind your back rings his doorbell, he pushes your naked body under the bed. Soon, she will be on this bed, moaning to the tune of his mind-blowing charm.

Later, he will tell her about your body under the bed. Ask if she can help him move it.

And she will laugh.


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