Your Voice, My Hand - Sex Stories

Your Voice, My Hand

... shadow.

You were characteristically modest in your reply:Many thanks, but you're far too kind with your praise! Art's simply a hobby I enjoy, a way of relieving the stress of my job.

I was shocked. I couldn't believe you didn't at some point in your life entertain dreams of being famous. I continued asking you questions about certain techniques, and while our conversation remained friendly, I sensed your caution. You were so careful to be appropriate, almost formal, with me. I found I liked that about you; it made me trust you more. I knew that if the two of us were to have some kind of disagreement or falling out for whatever reason, you wouldn't be vicious and try to make trouble for me in the group.

I kept peeling back your layers, however, eager to learn more about the man who created such powerful art. I was plenty guarded myself, so I stuck with safe topics like favorite artists, as well as novels and films you enjoyed. Little by little, you revealed more of yourself. I learned that, unlike me, you had a career, not just a job that (barely) paid the bills. You mentioned your wife, though of course not by name, early on in our chats. You told me you were forty-eight and had a son who was a sophomore in college. When I responded that I was thirty-one, I wondered if you realized, as I did then, that I was closer in age to your son than to you.

Several weeks after we first began chatting, you told me you were often too busy to devote much time to the online ...

... group, and you suggested we communicate via email to keep in better touch. I readily agreed, feeling a rush of pleasure that you were interested in continuing our conversations. All the while, you asked me questions in your own careful way. I let you know I was single and had no children. I described my job as boring clerical work, and you didn't press for details. With my wry sense of humor, I was able to amuse you, and soon we were emailing each other several times a day. I was two time zones ahead of you, so I would often wait till my morning break at work to wish you good morning. You were always quick to respond, and I grinned whenever I received a new email from you.

I think you simply enjoyed having someone to share the details of your day with. It was almost July when you finally told me your first name, though I hadn't asked for it:I'm Paul, by the way. It felt like a huge step for us. I let you know my name as well.Justine, you wrote.That's beautiful.

Even if you hadn't been married, I understood we could never get involved. The physical distance was a primary reason, but I was also slowly accepting the fact that I wasn't cut out for a serious relationship. When you casually mentioned that your wife had dragged you out shopping, or that you'd tried to cook dinner when she had to work late (you ended up burning the chicken and setting off the smoke detector), I found myself wondering, as I had so many times before, how people made such an arrangement work. I ...