Your Voice, My Hand - Sex Stories

Your Voice, My Hand

... muscles. This kind of talk made me worried you'd do something reckless. "You might find you have zero physical attraction to me," I said mildly.

"That's bullshit and you know it." Your frustrated sigh was clearly audible. "Maybe I could come up with some excuse to fly out and visit you, even if it's only for a weekend."

"You cannot take that risk, Paul." I sank onto the couch to stop myself from pacing the floor. "Neither of us wants you to fuck up your life, okay? If you're having some kind of midlife crisis, go out and buy a new car or something, but stop thinking about coming here."

"Goddamn it, Justine!" Your anger caught me off guard; you'd never raised your voice before. I waited, my pulse racing with anxiety. Then you let out a bitter laugh. "Why do you have to be so fucking sensible all the time?"

I laughed, too, and the sound was just as bitter. I was sensible out of necessity, Paul; I was used to settling. You obviously were not. Whatever you decided you wanted, I figured you most always figured out a way to get it. Until you met me.

"Do you think it's possible to fall in love with someone you've never met in person? Someone you've never even touched?" you asked.

I drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. "I guess before I could answer that question, we'd have to get into a philosophical discussion about what love even is."

"Wow, that is... astonishingly unromantic of you, Justine."

"I'm a lot of things, but romantic isn't one of ...

... them." My deadpan tone hid my rising panic. If we started talking about love, and secret trips, and all the what-ifs that could never come to fruition, I knew the fragile world we'd created together might be crushed under the weight of so many expectations. "We have to face reality here," I went on. "You're a thousand miles away."

"A little more than that," you said, your voice full of regret.

"Geography was never my best subject. And even if you were closer, it wouldn't change the fact that you're married. You don't want to destroy the life you've built."

You were silent for a long moment before asking, "Don't you ever want more?"

"I can't have more, Paul. And when it comes to this, neither can you."

I knew you recoiled at those words, but you didn't argue with me. Meanwhile, I did everything I could to be what you needed, and to get our relationship back on more level ground. It was during this time, when I was gripped by anxiety and second-guessing every text, every phone call between us, that Ben asked me out.

I knew him through my job, though we didn't work together directly. He'd always been friendly, but I never sensed he was attracted to me. And in the years before I met you, Paul, I'd been struggling with cycles of severe depression, which didn't exactly make me girlfriend material. I had no clue what prompted Ben to approach me and ask if I'd like to have dinner with him. Maybe he sensed I was better, happier. Or maybe it was simply a matter of fate ...