"Does everybody else get that feeling..?"-Tism

She presses the softness into my palm. I watch her lips form the words "Squeeze."

I do.

I'm lying back, prone. I'll do whatever she asks.

Leaning over, she begins massaging my arm. Flesh on flesh, fingers gliding over inner elbow, caressing small delicate circles. I look to her, she smiles. "You don't need to flex."

"I'm not." I lie.

Laughing, the girl pulls away. Sunlight radiates through the window: a runway of light ready for her return. When she does, she moistens my arm and slides the needle under the skin. The blood had no trouble choosing who it likes best; it flows into her container without ever asking why. Obedient, I continue squeezing the red stress ball. Well, it was actually more stress heart than stress ball.

Ahhh…a woman's touch. I've missed this. Once I'm divorced, is this what It's going to take to get a fleeting moment of companionship? Does this make me a blood donor whore? Girls will start talking in the back room "Yeah, I've drawn his blood before. He's a little weird but he's harmless. Just smile like he's joking when he asks you to pinch him. He will finish quicker though if you tickle him with a feather."

After she's taken my lifeblood I return home. Sitting at my computer I began my work in the quiet dark.

***

When MyWife arrived home, we stood in the kitchen and talked. Pressing the chicken breast into the pan with a spatula, she said, "So what weekend do you have off in August." I heard the breast scream as it's juices touched hot oil.

Leaning against the sink I said, "None yet, I have to request it." She crossed towards the sink with a pitcher. After I move towards the microwave, MyWife filled the pitcher with water. I continued, "Tell me when you want to move, and I'll ask for it off."

She set the pitcher to the side, pulled two potatoes out of the basin, and shook them off like she was going into holy convulsions. Any moment now she'd speak in tongues. "It's nice that they flex your weekends like that."

Careful with the sarcasm my love, it'll eat away the potatoes. "Yeah." I lie just to play along.

Dropping the potatoes into baggies, she moves toward the microwave. I cross to the table and she sets the timer. The potatoes cry out in anguish. Back to the water, MyWife fills her coffee pot, then drips the remainder into the cat dish.

"I'll let you know when I know I need you off then."

I squeeze the table lip like a stress ball. "That'd be great."

We eat and then it's out to the living room to watch a little TV. Sitting on opposite sides of the couch, the great rift of middle cushion separates us like the Mason-Dixon. I pour through A Heartbreaking Work… while she channels the power of the remote, stopping on a Scrubs rerun.

Satisfied, she lays down the remote and scoops up a passing cat, "You look like you need a squeeze! Yes you do! Yes you do!" Fur flies in all directions then relaxes as it drifts lazily to the floor. The cat tries to look like he'd gouge her eyes out if only he had claws. But he wouldn't, he's a slut for the attention. I know, cuz I've tried to sell him black market kitty claws. He refuses; he's just a big pussy.

Then again the two cats are getting far more touch than I am I'm in my "time-out" corner of the couch feeling only the cold smooth dead cow flesh.

"Are you flexing, you lazy cat? Yes you are! Yes you are!"

Alive, purring and getting just what he needs the cat looks to me, his eyes a haughty squint, "Sucks to be you, dude."

Your telling me...