The Trigger - Christine Whalen

David reached his hand up to Liz’s face. He left it there for a minute, cupping her cheek, the fingertips resting in the hollow under her eye. He looked at her intently, his face slightly inscrutable. She wondered if he wanted to ask her what she was thinking. He knew it annoyed her when he did. She’d told him that once. She didn’t like to go into her
thinking brain when she was in the midst of a feeling experience. But he wanted to know.

“What does it feel like when you shiver after?” he asked.

She paused, thinking of the best words to describe something that had nothing to do with words, that she liked to keep beyond words. But she tried, for him. “Like after shocks,” she said. “Little tremors.”

He leaned over and kissed her. His hand pressed against her breast, squeezing and then tracing little circles closer to her nipple. He lifted his hand away and then lowered it again, this time barely making contact, rubbing his palm back and forth, lightly grazing her nipple.

“Have you seen The Matrix?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Liz felt irritated now. She didn’t want to talk about movies. She didn’t want to talk at all.

“Yes. Why?” She knew she sounded curt, but she couldn’t help it.

“There’s a scene it in, the female robot, when her breast was touched it triggered an electrical current that flowed down between her legs.” He looked at her. “Is that what it’s like?”