Her new lover, she says, has these long, graceful fingers. They are so perfect that when they photographed their hands together, his threatened to steal the admiration despite the engagement ring on her finger.
She was glad she’d just had a manicure.
“Sexy hands,” I said.
Her voice droped an octave. “Definitely.”
So the other night my man and I were curled by the woodstove after dinner. Without any prompting from me, he looked down at his hands.
“It’s good to have my hands back,” he said as he flexed his fingers. “They were starting to get soft in Oregon.”
His hands have been busy reclaiming our life in Colorado: building outside in January; tinkering with our wind and solar systems; cutting and splitting firewood; and fixing everything that breaks at our two properties.
He turned them over under the light, showcasing blood- red gashes on his knuckles, dried scabs near his thumb and lots of torn cuticles.
And the feel of those calluses parting the soft flesh of my inner thighs?
My kind of sexy hands.
Tell me about your favorite pair of sexy hands.