The way a stranger's touch can steal your breath

I still think about that night sometimes. The press of a crowd, music shaking the floor, and then that brief contact—accidental or maybe not. The way it sent shivers up my spine. There’s something electric about being touched when you’re not expecting it.

The thrill of hands sliding along places they shouldn’t, the heat rising in your chest while you pretend not to react. It’s not just the act—it’s the anticipation, the boldness, the tension between fear and desire. I crave that again, more than I care to admit.