A Curious Reaction to Clicking
A somewhat fictionalized experience from long, long ago. The core of the story is true, helped form me into who I am. Names, dates and places have been changed to protect - well, not the innocent. No one involved was innocent.
"You can be a real asshole, you know that?"
"I know. But I really enjoyed your reaction."
Gwen was way out of my league. Smarter, beautiful, more accomplished. I got to know her acting and as time went on, we became friends. She'd never shown any interest in me, which wasn't surprising.
I was hyper back then, legs bouncing, fiddling incessantly with anything lying around. I didn't know how to dress, not a lot of confidence, wasn't neat. She was straightlaced, successful, good at everything she tried. Mostly went out with pretty frat boys who never seemed to last.
And yet here she was, on a Friday night, with a thin, nerdy punk. I hoped I knew why - but lacked the confidence to be sure.
A few weeks earlier, folks from the play were at my place since I was the only one with an actual job, could afford to live alone. There were maybe 10 or 12 of us, drinking, eating pizza - you know, usual 20 something stuff back in the '80's. I was trying to keep the place from becoming a total disaster, unconsciously picked my handcuffs, fiddling with them.
The cuffs were the real thing - police issued, hardened steel -not the cheap ones you'd buy at the mall. I click them, one ratchet at a time. They felt good in my hand, made a satisfying sound.
Out of the corner of my eye, I seemed to notice something odd. I could have been wrong, probably was. Gwen seemed to lose her balance, almost fell over. Must have been the 6-inch heels. Maybe I just imagined it. She kept talking, as if nothing had happened.
After everyone left, I couldn't stop thinking - had I imagined it? Was it a coincidence, or did the ratcheting sound do something to Gwen? I liked that thought, but no way.
Something had always seemed different about Gwen and over the next few days, no matter how I tried, I couldn't get an image out of my head.
The next time everyone hung out, I casually walked behind Gwen, slowly squeezed the cuffs. Click. Click. Click. And, oh my god, her eyes fluttered, almost dropped her drink, looked around. She couldn't tell where the sound came from, didn't know it was me. But she reacted. The way I'd hoped for. Fantasized about.
I was so happy.
I started carrying the cuffs everywhere. I'd surreptitiously open and close when only Gwen could hear. One time she nearly fell over, knees buckling in a kind of Pavlovian response. I was having a lot of fun, didn't expect anything more to come of it.
Like most boys I was an idiot, so it didn't occur to me to hide the cuffs. I wish leaving them out had been on purpose, that I wanted her to notice. But it really was just stupidity.
"So, it was you the whole time?" she said, drink in one hand, cuffs dangling from the other. "I should've known." Took another sip. "I thought I was losing my fucking mind."
She looked at me, hard. "How'd you know?"
"Accident. I was clicking 'em, thought I saw you twitch. So I experimented. Once I was sure I wasn't imagining things, I couldn't stop."
She looked at me a little threateningly, took a sip.
"You haven't told anyone, have you?"
"I wasn't even planning on telling you. I was just enjoying myself - admittedly, at your expense."
She looked at me again, leaned in. "You weren't going to let me in on the joke?"
I wasn't sure I had enough confidence to answer, so I took a sip.
"What difference would it make? I'd be admitting to being a kinky little geek with handcuffs. Who'd believe me anyway? You'd deny it - I could also have been wrong."
I took a drink, got up my courage.
"Am I wrong?"
She looked at me, inscrutably. Just the way I like my women - wonder if this was when that particular kink started.
"You're not totally wrong - though I'll deny, deny, deny if you tell anyone."
"Fair enough. But tell me."
