The first touch is like a whisper. At first I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is real. My mind is going so fast, maybe I imagined it. Slowly, unbel...evably slowly, the touch hardens and I can feel a slender finger resting on my naked shoulder. It remains motionless as if asking for permission to continue. A few moments go by; my lack of reaction acts as the trigger to continue and slowly other fingers join the first and a gentle, warm hand is laid against my skin. I can’t believe it’s happening.. In that class, when we were in the back of the theater?"Of course he remembered. He had been reliving it all evening. They'd had a class together -- introduction to dramatic arts or something like that. They had put on a Shakespeare play. What was it? He strained to recall. Yes -- All's Well That Ends Well. He was ... Bertram and she was ... he couldn't remember. They'd had to pretend to kiss at the end. Rehearsal after rehearsal, he'd held her in his arms, and they'd pretended to kiss. At. More

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