She told me she was a modern woman and that long hair wasn’t fashionable.She didn’t want to go to the townhouse. She said there was too many memories there. We spent several days at a downtown hotel. We went to movies and a play. She wanted to visit some clubs in the East Village. We avoided politics and I thought that the reunion was special.We continued to meet this way for the next several years. Her senior year, she told me she was seeing a guy. We had made love and where sharing a cigarette. She put it out in the ashtray. She told me she was in love with this guy. He was smart and wonderful. He had a very promising future. He knew about her past, just not all of it.She said she needed to stop seeing me. It wasn’t fair to him.I became angry. I still felt possessive of her. I told her she wasn’t cut out to be an American wife. I asked her if he really knew what she needed?She became angry. “What? I am supposed to be someone’s mistress or be owned by a man all my life?Maybe that is. "Give me a second," said Andrew, grinning. He left the room. A few moments later, the rattling of metal chains could be heard from upstairs. The sound grew louder until he finally reappeared, holding a leash in his hand.Walking timidly behind him was a woman in her late twenties who was wearing nothing but steel cuffs around each limb and a matching collar, all joined together by chains that had started to lose their shine. She must have worn them often, and for at least a good year or two, realised Becky.When Andrew stopped walking, the woman obediently knelt down at his side. Andrew grabbed a chain and pair of padlocks from behind the couch Becky was sitting on before unfastening the woman's leash from her collar. He replaced it with the chain, padlocking one end onto her collar and the other onto a floor hook discretely hidden beneath the couch."This is my slave," he said proudly.Becky was surprised when the tethered woman looked straight at her. Although there was slight pleading.
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