The chairs in the restaurant were mismatched. Some of them had broken legs, and wobbled; others were sponge-painted vermilion. Leon sat her down on the one he had been using, made of simple teak, with a cushion on the seat. Naomi felt grateful that he was telling her what to do; she let herself sink down into position and closed her eyes. Behind her was a refrigerator holding soft drinks, and she heard it hum. The room smelled like hot oil and lemon.

Leon stood in front of her, his legs slightly spread. She was aware of the weight of them, although he was careful not to let his knees touch hers. She peeked through her eyelids and saw that his were closed, and that he was breathing rhythmically; his chest rose and fell, his ribs suddenly visible and then intangible beneath the folds of his loose t-shirt.
Leon held his hands against his chest, palms together. He was breathing audibly. Naomi closed her eyes again, and tried to feel something. She felt the weight of the chair beneath her, slightly uncomfortable because the back slats dug into the small of her back. She heard the whir of traffic from outside the window and the refrigerator and the sizzle of hot oil from the station where Leon fried falafels. Naomi’s stomach gave a sudden lurch, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.
He brought his hands, palms forward, in front of her chest, as though about to cup one breast in each hand. Naomi felt the warmth from them. Sudden tendrils of electricity seized her, ricocheting from the lines of his palms onto the pores of her skin. She held still, afraid to breathe. Leon didn’t touch her, but kept his palms perfectly still. Outside, a horn blared and someone cursed loudly. A clock continued to chart time in rhythmic seconds.

His hands began to move, drawing patterns in the air. He affected her heart, her shoulders, and her neck, before moving down to her stomach, her legs. She felt shivery and weightless. She felt the tips of her fingers tremble. Occasionally outside sound distracted her- music from a passing car, or laughter- and then her mind began to race. She thought about Leon’s face and about her own nervousness, curled like a living thing in the empty pit of her stomach.