She gasps as he fastens the ribbon behind her head, careful not to tangle her hair. Then he wraps her wrist and secures them to the back of the chair....The ribbons are tight but smooth, not constricting and even though she is secure, she could wiggle out of them if she wanted. “I like what you are wearing”, he whispers. He runs his hand along the hem of her short black dress, the material almost as soft as the ribbons that bind her, black heels. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out. We walked into the backyard, where a flood of memories came back to me. I remembered the tree I had the fort in, the sprinkler I stubbed my toe on ... so many wonderful moments. I felt a tug on my arm bringing me back.“Are we married, or just a couple - and how do we know anybody here?” my beautiful and lovely sister asked.“We are married for two years, and friends of the groom, on his mother’s side,” I said.“Boy, you sure are good at lying, like all of the stuff you told me when we were. More

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