The fingers on my left-hand twitched when I curled the fingers on my right hand. I had always known this, but it had never been so apparent except for when I had my left hand on my lover’s throat.
I was in the middle of gripping her thigh with my right hand when the fingers around her neck started to become jittery like caffeinated spiders.
She asked if I was shaking.
I said no.
I started to pull down her skirt.
She laughed. The fingers on my left hand were tickling her neck, right below the ears.
I cursed, pulled my pants up, and went into the bathroom.
With nothing but the yellow light and the droning fan, I unzipped my pants and did the work myself.
I used my left hand, even though my right was the dominant one. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want to be defective.
I stroked until I came. I then cleaned up and went back to my bed where she was curled up on her side.
I curled up on her left side, so that my was back to her.
She twitched and started snoring.
A couple of minutes later, I joined her.