sometimes... with some of them... as I hand them their change our flesh meets. My fingers might skim their palm or brush across the pads of theirs. And I can feel them. Some men have soft hands, some rough and dry, some calloused. And I momentarily imagine their fingers sliding over my body. I wonder if they notice the contact. I wonder if it gives them the same secret thoughts it gives me.
And then I go back to wondering what their hands would feel like on my skin.
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