She closed her eyes again. In her mind she pushed away the memory of the accident and concentrated on his hands. He had large soft hands. They were male hands. Gentle.. tender and hers. She loved his hands. She loved how he used his hands. His hands had gently squeezed her shoulder when she needed a little encouragement and there was not time for words. His hands also caressed her body… challenging her…. urging her… to join him in the wonderful bliss of an orgasm. It was his hands that attracted her at first.

She had been in a coffee shop needing an escape. She stumbled and almost fell. It was his hands… his soft large masculine hands, that prevented the fall. His hands pulled her to his body and held her… until she once again was stable. She was unwilling to leave the protection she felt in that one moment, and stood there for several long seconds savoring the warmth… his hard body and the feel of his hands on her back. She stepped back embarrassed. She was embarrassed by her delay. She was embarrassed that she was not more than her small dismal self. She lacked all that most women had. She felt like a timid mouse nibbling at the edges of life, never getting to the center were real people existed. Always on the sidelines watching… waiting.

Gradually she raised her eyes meeting his… she waited for a reproach that never came. He had big brown soft bear eyes. They exhibited both strength and tenderness. A tenderness so deep that she felt like she was swimming in the wombs of life. He held her in his gaze, not letting her go… not even for a moment. Then the magic shattered. Someone spoke. Another patron was concerned. An old ugly women that was witch than human. Her crackled voice broke into the magic, dispensing it on the wings of before…

She mumbled her thanks. She looked around almost lost. The moment held her so tight in its magical folds that the ice cold embrace of reality devoured her… She moaned… she wanted to cry. The moment had been the one she had been waiting for all her life…