Rebecca A. Foster

This is me, my Chinese host mom (I lived with a host family my first two months in China) and the 15 year-old daughter of a family friend. It was quite common for us to be introduced to family friends so the kids could practice their English. I just met her that evening, but it's tradition in China for girls to hold hands, so she held my hand. I thought it was very sweet. You'll notice I'm not holding Mama's hand (the Chinese word for mom is 'Mama' so that's what I called her), but instead linking my arm. I always felt there was a social protocol for holding hands vs. linking arms; hands meant you were more friendly, while holding arms was a sign of respect. Friends can also link arms, but I would never have held Mama's hand. I have no idea if this is actually true in Chinese culture, it's just what I picked up and felt comfortable with. This was a very hot and humid August night; looking at that photo, I can feel all over again the sweat dripping...

It feels good to have someone with you whose hand you can hold, someone you trust to be good to you. I love holding hands while walking, on the subway, watching a movie, and especially in the car. It's very sweet to silently hold hands on the way home from anywhere. I also love it when little kids reach up and hold your hand. It makes me feel needed. It's the perfect compliment from a child: "I trust you to take care of me."

I have a serious thing for men's hands. Nicely shaped fingers, big palms, skin a bit roughened with use, there's just something about strong, masculine hands that catches my eye and makes me drool inside. And some men know just how to touch a woman in non-sexual ways that makes her want to explore exactly those things. I don't know if they learn it somewhere or just inherent, but knowing one is a gift. Knowing one with beautiful hands is a treasure. A man's hand in the small of my back? Melts me. Lightly guiding me through a crowd or doorway, helping me avoid an obstacle I don't quite see, a reassuring touch when I feel uncertain about what's going on around me. The tactile equivalent of Lloyd Dobler pointing out the glass. A small caress of the thumb and I might feel it up my spine. Tingly all the way. Such a small gesture. Such a lasting impression. A woman doesn't forget a man who knows how to touch. And she doesn't overlook the small, first hints th...