The hair on her arm stood up from the electric charge the cool breeze created. She rubbed the area softly, as he would, caressing it, massaging it beneath his rough hands.
She loved a hard-working man and her type was a laborer, construction worker, or electrician. Their hands were scarred and rough, though their touch always gentle; a thing that always amazed her and left her craving more. It didn’t matter where on her body his hands were, every place felt good, if touched the right way. A subtle touch, an almost non-touch, just enough to do what the breeze was doing right now in gliding an electric current across her skin.