When a Hand Touches Another Hand, It’s Electric

Naturally I felt sad to be leaving her. Wanted to see her again.

She placed her bowler hat on her head and leaned closer to the taxi door and said, ‘How much?’

To be honest, I was in a daze. I didn’t dare look at the clock: it felt wrong to charge her anything because I hadn’t really taken her anywhere, and besides, I was in a kind of spell which I didn’t want to break.

So I just made up a figure off the top of my head.

‘Four pounds eighty,’ I said, hesitatingly, trying to sound all authoritative. Yes, I know it sounded stupid, but look at it from my point of view. I was besotted with her.

Didn’t want to do anything to offend her, if you know what I mean. She was special.

She glanced at me, and I could tell she knew I was making it up.

But she just reached into her slim jacket pocket and handed me a ten pound note and said, ‘Keep the change.’

I was so glad to be able to move my hand next to hers as she handed me the money. Wanted the warmth of her flesh against mine.

Hand to hand. It might sound corny, but I love holding hands. I love holding hands with a woman.

– The Lady Loves to Strip