Rusty Handcuffs

“I have handcuffs,” she said.

He stopped kissing her neck and rolled onto his elbow.

“Maybe that will help.”

“This has never happened to me,” he said.

“You’re tense.”

They lay quietly and caressed each other’s arms. The sun was coming up. They slept for four hours, and then she made eggs.

In the following week, he thought about her handcuffed to the bed. The daydreams distracted him at work. He started jogging again.

He called her Friday morning and stayed in Friday night. She called him back on Sunday. They talked about the Grammys. On Monday, the daydreams stopped.

***
Title by: Claire Waters
Story by: Evan Greenspoon

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