**Hey y’all! This was written in POV, as it’s a fond memory with a close friend. Put yourself in her place, and enjoy the ride. Xoxo**
It had been a really rough few months on every front. A rough time at work, family issues, and breakup left you feeling drained and alone. You needed some company, someone to confide in and exist with without pressure. You knew you could call me, and that I’d be there. And so you did, and so I was.
We ended up in your bed, laying beside one another. You were unloading about the clusterfuck of life, and I was quietly listening and occasionally offering commentary. You looked over and smiled at me, told me how much you appreciated me and slipped your hand into mine. I returned the sentiment with a smile to match.
You continued, with both of us acutely aware of our bodies touching while we talked. Eventually, it came up. I don’t remember how, and I doubt you do either. You mentioned how long it had been since you had been touched by a man, and joked that the hand holding was really getting you going. I looked at you with seductive humor and began tracing my fingers down your wrist. “How about now?” You giggled, but also sighed. That little forced exhalation told me all I needed to know about how it made you feel.