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The last man I'd danced with was my husband, whose hands longed for me to
hold him like a mother. The last woman I'd danced with wanted me to follow, but
her hands weren't strong enough to hold me. You know that when you hold me, ...
Later, in my bed, I hold your hands over your head. The muscles in your forearms
are taut as I hold against your strength, as we both struggle briefly with a woman
forced to submit. Desire is a tangled knot, the past pulled and strained in us by ...
I told myself to be strong, be ready to fight back, the films were fantasy, male
fantasy. But I had wanted to sit tousled in nothing but a pajama top and have your
adoring hand slide underneath to touch my breasts. Now you hold me in your
What people are saying - Write a review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - ehough75 - LibraryThing
Amazing. Loved every aspect of this book. She shows how her thoughts and process have developed and changed over the years with both conversaitons, debates, and encounters with the people she has met ... Read full review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - dancingwaves - LibraryThing
An amazing book of vignettes that explore the ideas and intersections of love, sexuality, gender, and identity. A beautiful love letter to her partner, Leslie Feinberg. Read full review