Jane St. James (selain) wrote,
Jane St. James

The Past Comes Back to Hold My Hand

I've been in a sort of open relationship (I know, if it's sort of, it is pretty open) for about 6 months. It's nice. It's easy. And it's slow. And things are speeding up. Not much, but the hand-on-knee base is getting further and further above the knee, and it's starting to stir our hormones. We are comfortable with just sitting by each other and touching in some way. Hands next to each other, with one finger just barely grazing, or, as stated earlier, hand-on-knee... Stroking has been occurring. Thumbs going back and forth across the leg or the hand or the arm or whatever. Or up the arm and back down.

Up the arm and back down caught me off guard today. His hand came up above the elbow and under my sleeve and lingered on a secret. "Scratch," he said, and realized it was raised. "Or scar." Yeah. "And another." His hand trailed back down to my hand.

"Lots of scars," I replied quietly without looking. And like never before, his hand squeezed mine. Like he wished he could have saved me. Or like he wanted me to know he's here if ever another scar arises. He's not just a guy in an open relationship. He really cares about me and my inner workings. And he'll listen.

I felt very warm.
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