We were lying on the bed together, only our fingers touching. Earlier in the evening he had placed our hands together, each fingertip touching the other's corresponding fingertip. We had sat quietly like that until he asked if I could feel his heartbeat through his fingertips. I could. It was a particularly beautiful moment. Lying there on the bed I thought back to that moment. It caused me to wonder if he'd ever done these things with another girl, and if the way we touch each other was singular to our relationship. It is for me. I've never felt the way I do with him with anyone else. Ever. I looked over at him, our bodies still glistening with sweat. He smiled at me and drew me close to him so that my head rested on his chest. Again, I could hear his heart beating.

Me: Can I ask you something personal?

Him: Anything.

Me: I know you've slept with a lot of other women, does having sex with me feel different because we're in love?

Him: Having sex with you is different than anyone I've ever been with. I don't know if it is because I love you or if it is because we're just compatible. I do know that I don't think I've ever been really in love with anyone but you. Whatever I was before, it wasn't anything like this.

He tilted my face towards his and kissed me. Which of course only led to us having sex again. It was only the middle of what is now known in my mind as SexFest 2004. That was Saturday night and I have muscle groups that still feel like they got a pretty spiffy workout.