The Touch of.....

The anticipation reeks heavily through the room... It's voice coming through the surprised, shocked and grossed out students.  We sit with our eyes closed, our blind folds tied tightly on our faces , almost as if it were a shield, to block  out the cringing anxiety that this "touch" portrays. The heels come clicking a bit closer now, stopping momentarily to give more classmates a shock.  Something no one was expecting.  Finally the wave of anticipation drowns our table , our eyes ripping out our sockets and our hands barely strong enough to sustain them. A light touch grabs my hand ,in which now my heart is pounding, my breath shortning and eyes clenching, like I was riding a rollercoaster with the full intent to come out surprised.Lifting into a container of mystery and guesses. Soft, liquid gellaton meets the pads of my finger tips.  Greeting them with its cold ambiguous welcoming and a quick goodbye.  My hand is swiftly pulled from the goop and the container and is again reunited with the chilled classroom air...Its substance dripping from my hand, swimming in my palms and relaxing on my knuckles. Slowly retiring from my warm flesh and onto the table.