I don't do things like this. I'm a single Indian girl, and I don't hook up with guys. I especially don't hook up with married American white guys. I'm still trying to figure out what happened.
Lenny and I worked together. He was always funny and nice. He made really great eye contact, which was something I like. It was like he could see into my soul. I know, it's weird.
I went to happy hour with him and a bunch of other people from work. I didn't even drink! Neither did Lenny. He said he quit drinking because he was doing stupid stuff.
When I got there, he hugged me, and then he squeezed tighter. And I started to pull back, but then I just relaxed in his grip. It's not easy being single in your 30s, never getting touched. We hugged long enough that people started to notice. We sat down to eat, and he sat right at my elbow. He made a point of looking at me very intently while we were talking. He brushed some lint off my shoulder; he used his finger to retrieve an eyelash from my face. I was feeling warm all over.
When it was time to go, the group of us were walking to our cars. Lenny turned to me and said, "can I read your palm?" I nodded and he took my hand.
He spread my palm open. "Did you know I can tell everything about a person from their palm?" He started tracing the lines on my hands. Now, while I am a serious person, but I believe in astrology and I believe in palm reading.
He took his little finger and ran it from my index finger towards my pinky. "Now," he said, "This is your love line. Do you see how it's so straight and narrow and by itself?" I smiled and looked away from him.
"See what happens when you get to the middle of your hand. Look at this cross. This is where you take a lover. And look at mine!" He held up his hand. "Mine has a cross here where I got married, and then another cross the same place as yours, where we start our affair."
