"Same," he said. "Fuck, I miss you."
"What are you doing now?" I asked, squirming a little because hearing his voice had caused an ache between my thighs.
"Pretty sure I'm about to put my hand on my dick and ask you to tell me a story," he said.
Well, that sounded like a fine time to me, too. I could curse the buffering wheel of doom and poor Wi-Fi, but there was something to be said for just hearing him talk to me that way.
Now, my body was all buzzing with energy, and I had that vision of him with his hand on himself and his face going slack and?—
"I mean, since sleep isn't likely," he said, uncertain.
"And we're married. Alone. And I'd love to help you…uh…get a handle on things?" I agreed. "I think right now, we have to do whatever we can do to get through this separation."
There was more rustling on his end, and I'd never actually done this before, like this, so I didn't have any experience to go on.
"How…uh…how does this work?" I asked.
Obviously, I understood the logistics, but did we lay ground rules or expectations? Should I get the salt and pepper?
"Well, gorgeous, I suppose you put your hand between your legs and do whatever you do to get yourself there. And I'd do my thing on this end."
Okay, sure, well, I got that part.
"Sloan," I said, a little uncertain that I'd even be good at this.
"Maya," he said my name in a way that gave me a total hit of confidence.
It'll work! It'll work!
"You think an…um…a…release…will help you sleep?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, simply. "It almost always works for me."
Oh.
I said nothing because what was I supposed to say?
"Do you, uh, do it a lot?" I asked. I mean, I was his wife, so it was fine for me to ask the question.
"Handle things while you're away?" He chuckled, low and deep. "Only if I want to sleep."
I made a garbled noise, because now I had to think about the fact that when he texted me g'night, and we weren't able to connect, I'd be going on stage or something like that, and he'd be "handling" things.
"Maya?" he asked.
"Hmmm?"
"You want to do this?"
"Sure." That came out way too perky and not so enthusiastic. Shit. "I mean"—I took a deep breath—"yes, I want to do this with you."
"Move your hand under your pajamas, Maya. Between your legs," he said, and the command in his voice? Oh, yes, please!
"Tell me what you feel," he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.
Damn, damn, damn. I slipped under the blankets because I couldn't just do this right on top of them.
"Maya," he said my name as a command. "Hand between your legs, baby."
