RFotD:
The earliest recorded case of a man giving up smoking was on April 5, 1679, when Johan Katsu, Sheriff of Turku, Finland, wrote in his diary "I quit smoking tobacco." He died one month later.

Aimless Ramblings:
I cant stop thinking about his hands.

I’ll be sitting beside him in a conference room at the office, and find myself starting at his hands moving across the page as he takes notes. Or even just resting on the table.

I don’t even know whether or not I want to be with him, but there’s just something about his hands.

Looking at them, I think about the evening at Hy’s, when he came back from the bar and sat down beside me and gave me a hand massage before cupping my cheek in his hand and leaning into our first kiss.
I think about the afternoon in the parkette, when we climbed up to the top of the architectural structure and made out, his hands all over me.
I think about the various times I’d sit perched on his desk, with one foot in his lap as he read, with his hands stroking my calf.
I think about the way he would run his hands up my leg, and under my skirt, and how dangerous we felt in the stairwells.
I think about the evening at the office, on our way back from Pravda, and the fantasies about the conference room.
I think about the night in the park.. his hands in me… me licking his fingers clean.
I think about the evening on the bus, when I absentmindedly stroked the back of his hand and he commented on how soothing he found it. That’s what I think about the most. Stroking his hand..

I'm still oddly jealous when he turns on the charm around other girls. I cant really explain it. I dont know that I want to.

Mood Tracker:
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