Greer
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 2: I Might’ve Asked
I walked beside him with my fingers laced together. My jacket sleeves were long enough to partially cover everything, but you could still see the metal connecting my wrists. Unless someone was looking directly at my hands, though, it wasn’t noticeable.
At least the people we rode down in the elevator with—I don’t think they realized I was cuffed.
As we entered the restaurant, we moved to the side to let three women pass. They were gathered near the entrance, finishing up a conversation, seemingly unaware that they were blocking the doorway.
“Sorry,” one of them said as we walked in.
“Sure, no problem,” John replied, holding the door open as they passed.
As they went by, one of the women glanced down and noticed the cuffs. She smiled at me, then looked at John and smiled again.
“Two, please,” John said, and the hostess led us toward a table in the back. A busboy was just finishing up, wiping the table down.
John pulled my chair out, and I sat.
“Tony will be your waitress,” the hostess said. She wished us a nice meal and started to walk away.
“Oh—no, wait.” She stopped. “Winnie is. I think Tony’s shift ended.”
We nodded, and I reached for the menu, not realizing my sleeves had shifted and were no longer covering the cuffs.
“Hi,” a woman said as she came up to the table. She sounded a little winded.
“Hi.”
“I’m Winnie. I’ll be your server.” She pulled out her pad and immediately started searching for a pen in her apron. “Sorry. I just got here. It wasn’t even my shift, but Tony had to leave because of a family emergency.”
She finally found the pen.
“Sorry. You don’t care about any of that. Do you want me to bring you some waters while you look over the menu?”
“Yeah,” John said.
“Same,” I said.
“Okay.” She nodded, glancing down at her pad. “And tonight’s special is the chicken marsala with mashed potatoes and green beans. It’s actually really good. I had it yesterday.”
She paused, then looked up, but her eyes dropped to my hands. I instinctively lowered them beneath the table.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she said quickly. “Tony mentioned you.”
She stopped.
“No, sorry. That sounded weird. He mentioned he had a table—a couple wearing those.”
She pointed vaguely at my hands.
Then she looked toward the chair beside us.
“At least you got out of the waist chain.
I looked at her.
She laughed.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t say that. It’s just—this happens here. More than you’d think.”
John glanced at me.
“We get couples in all the time where the girlfriend is completely restrained. Can’t use her hands, can’t eat, and then the guy tries to feed her.”
She shook her head, already laughing.
“And it sounds sexy when you say it like that, right? Romantic. Very intimate.”
She made a face.
“It’s not. It’s a disaster.”
I smiled.
“She takes a bite and half of it is still on the fork, and he pulls it away too soon. Or he puts too much on there. Or she misses the fork. And then she’s got food all over her.”
She laughed again.
“I mean, I’m sure they think it’s romantic. I’m just standing there thinking, okay, I guess I need to bring them some more napkins.”
As John smiled, I glanced down at the empty chair.
That was when I noticed the metal box. Cuffs. A padlock. And a lot of chain.
John followed my gaze.
Winnie noticed us looking and glanced over at the chair.
“Oh.”
She looked back at us.
“Sorry.”
She gestured toward the restraints.
“This is probably your first time out in those, and I’m just making it weird for you.”
She gave us an apologetic smile.
“It really is normal here. Honestly.”
She glanced at the cuffs again.
“So don’t worry. If you were worried about wearing those in here, nobody’s going to say anything.”
She paused.
“I mean, people will look.”
Another little shrug.
“But nobody’s going to care.”
She gave us another apologetic smile, then seemed to realize she was still standing there talking.
“Okay—the waters.”
She turned and walked away, only glancing back once before disappearing toward the kitchen.
We watched her go.
After a moment, John reached over and picked up a handful of the chain from the pile.
“She thinks these are ours.”
I looked down at the chair.
“Maybe they belonged to the people before us.”
He looked at me.
“You think they left their restraints?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe.”
He looked back at the pile.
“Just left them sitting on the chair?”
“You heard her. Apparently, people do this here.”
John shook his head.
“The receptionist said basically the same thing.”
He looked at me.
“Earlier. She asked if I was okay. Asked if I was being held against my will.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Then she asked if I’d escaped from one of the prisons.”
I could see the disbelief on his face.
“I’m serious,” I said, laughing. “She said it’s something she has to ask whenever someone shows up in restraints.”
John looked back at the pile of metal.
“So, this is actually normal here?”
“I guess.”
He set the chain back down, then looked toward the kitchen.
“She’s nice,” I said. “Just ... a lot.”
He laughed.
“Very much a lot.”
As we both looked toward the kitchen, Winnie appeared again, carrying two glasses of water.
“Your waters,” she said, setting them down. “Did you decide what you want, or do you need another minute?”
“Salad,” I said. “With some grilled chicken on top. Honey mustard on the side.”
“Dinner size?”
I nodded.
“And you?” she asked John.
He glanced down at the menu.
“Smoked hickory burger. Medium.”
“Fries okay? They’re steak fries. They’re pretty good.”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” She nodded, taking his menu as he handed it to her.
I picked mine up and held it out to her.
“Restroom?” John asked.
“Uh...” Winnie glanced toward the hallway. “It’s not in service right now. You have to go out into the lobby, past the elevators and the reception desk. They’re right before the convention space.”
“Okay.” He nodded and stood. “You okay here?”
He glanced at me.
“Fine,” I said, smiling.
John headed toward the lobby. Winnie watched him go, then looked back at me.
“You two been together long?”
“Married two years.”
She smiled.
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You guys are cute.”
I laughed. “Thanks.”
“No, seriously, you are. I love the whole flight-attendant-and-pilot thing.”
I looked at her.
“Really, it’s cute. Most couples come here wearing restraints when the museum has one of their events. But every so often, we get couples doing stuff like this.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Yeah. Mostly the FBI thing, though.”
I smiled at her. “FBI thing?”
“Uh-huh. You know. He’s the broody agent; she’s the one being transported for being naughty.” She smiled, trying to keep a straight face. “And of course they fall in love during it all.”
I bit back a smile.
“Right,” I said, drawing the word out slowly.
She laughed.
I glanced down at my uniform.
“We thought the flight-attendant thing was more romantic.”
“And sexy,” I added.
She looked me over again.
“Yeah, you guys are definitely committed to it. Those uniforms look pretty convincing.”
“You think so?”
She glanced toward the lobby.
“Definitely. Especially him. He looks like a pilot.”
I laughed.
“Anyway,” she said, glancing down at the chair, “it’s nice that you’re willing to wear those for him.”
I nodded as she then went over our order.
“I’ll get that in.”
She turned to leave, but I called after her.
“Winnie.”
She turned around.
I pointed toward the chair with my cuffed hands.
“Today was kind of the first time I’ve worn these, and, well...” I smiled awkwardly. “It was clumsy. Don’t even know if they were on right. It wasn’t exactly the sexy experience I had in my head.”
She just smiled.
“We’re pretty new to all of this.”
She nodded.
“Do you—” I hesitated. “Do you actually know how those go on?”
She slipped her pad into her apron pocket and tucked the pen in after it. Then she walked over to the chair and sorted through the restraints.
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “The usual stuff you see with a transport setup.”
She nodded toward the pile.
“Box, waist chain, lead chain, leg cuffs...” Her eyes flicked back to my wrists. “Hinged cuffs.”
I smiled.
“I know this sounds a little odd, but...” I glanced toward the lobby, then back at her. “Would you be willing to show me how all of it works? How it goes on correctly?”
She looked at me.
“I mean, maybe help me get into it?” I shrugged. “I could surprise him. And, honestly, I’d kind of like to know what I’m doing.”
“Uh...” She glanced around the room, then back at me. “Sure.”
“Let me call the front desk. See if they can keep your hubby busy for a few minutes while I show you. He’s probably heading back by now.”
She pulled out her phone.
“Not exactly sexy, coming back and finding the waitress chaining up your wife.”
She rolled her eyes at herself, as if reconsidering what she’d just said.
I smiled.
“Sherrie?” she said when the call connected. “Tall, broody pilot coming through the lobby toward the restaurant. Can you keep him entertained for five, ten minutes? I’ll explain later.”
She listened for a moment, then nodded.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
She hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
“She’ll keep him busy. Probably make him verify the credit card or something.”
“Okay. Stand up for me.”
I put my hands on the table and carefully stood, then walked over to her.
The waitress picked up the lockbox and turned it over in her hands.
“Lockbox. Security box. Something like that.”
She shrugged.
“Anyway, this goes on first. Right over the cuffs.”
She slid it into place, then reached for the waist chain.
“Waist chain. Lift your hands.”
I raised them, and she threaded the chain around my waist, underneath my jacket.
“I’ve seen people wear it over, too. I think underneath looks sexier.”
She fastened it, pulling the bar at the end through one of the links, then gave it a quick check.
“You want it snug, but not tight.”
Then she picked up the other chain.
“Uh, lead chain, I think? Maybe a connecting chain.”
She threaded the ring at one end over the bar, then guided my hands until the bar fit through the slot in the box. She pulled the loose end of the waist chain through the slit in the bar, explaining it all as she went.
“Good so far?”
“Yeah.”
“You can feed the chain back down the other side through the ring, or take it over the top. You can let it drape, or keep the chain tight when you lock it in place.”
She smiled.
“I think down the back and through the ring looks more secure. Especially if you let the chain drape over your hip. Looks sexier that way, too. Especially with that suit. Kind of a little tease.”
I nodded as I watched her finish it.
She turned me around and picked up the padlock.
“And you know what this does. Just make sure it’s centered so you can’t reach it.”
“Okay.”
The padlock snapped shut, and she turned me back around.
She picked up the leg cuffs.
“And these...”
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