I was afraid to take her out in case I should lose her to some passing Lothario who would slip her his telephone number scribbled on the back of a $20 bill when I had my back turned or to some smooth talker who would sidle up to her in the restaurant while I had gone to the toilet or to some film producer who just happened to see us passing by and recognised that beauty such as hers was worth its weight in gold and was there for the taking.
Months of what I thought was understanding and contentment passed by and then one day, out of the blue, she said, ” We can’t go on like this. “
” Like what? ” I asked with assumed insousiance though my heart was hammering against my ribs.
” Like this, ” she said, lifting her arm up so quickly that the handcuff bit into my wrist.