Digital Manipulation
I wanted him from the moment I saw his hands resting on the counter that rainy Friday afternoon at the pharmacy. They were neither callused, like a construction worker's, nor effete. His nails showed no signs of the dirt or grease that would evince a farmer or mechanic. They were trimmed to the quick, but the beds were long—a perfect end to the shapely fingers they capped. He waited patiently for his purchases to be rung, tapping his fingertips in time to the inoffensively boring music that...
Masturbation