By the time he was a sophomore in college, Gerald’s life was what he described as “more or less under control” (as if life-his life, anyway-were a bucking bronco he had been ordered to tame), but she knew his high school years had been a horror show that had left him with a deep legacy of contempt for himself and suspicion of others.

His success as a corporate lawyer (and marriage to her; she believed that had also played a part, perhaps even the crucial one) had further restored his confidence and self-respect, but she supposed that some nightmares never completely ended. In a deep part of his mind, the bullies were still giving Gerald wedgies in study-hall, still laughing at Gerald’s inability to do anything but girlie-pushups in phys ed, and there were words-stupid and ridiculous, for instance-that brought all that back as if high school had been yesterday… or so she suspected. Psychologists could be incredibly stupid about many things, almost wilfully stupid, it often seemed to her, but about the horrible persistence of some memories she thought they were bang-on. Some memories battened onto a person’s mind like evil leeches, and certain words stupid and ridiculous, for example-could bring them instantly back to squirming, feverish life.

She waited to feel a pang of shame at hitting below the belt like this and was pleased-or maybe it was relief she felt-when no pang came. I guess maybe I’m just tired of pretending, she thought, and this idea led to another: she might have her own sexual agenda, and if she did, this business with the handcuffs was definitely not on it. They made her feel demeaned. The whole idea made her feel demeaned. Oh, a certain uneasy excitement had accompanied the first few experiments-the ones with the scarves-and on a couple of occasions she’d had multiple orgasms, and that was a rarity for her.