Trapper and Emmeline

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Authors: Lindsey Flinch Bedder
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conversation back to me, and my stupid rules, al the time.”
    I knew an opportunity when I heard it. “Then here’s another rule for you: Once a week, you must go out with someone who invites you on a date. Your choice of guy.”
    “No,” she said, shocked.
    “Yes.”
    “Okay!” She said, and laughed at herself. “It’s like a dream. A great boyfriend, and I stil get to date.”
    We started walking again.
    “And the next rule—get at least one guy a day to touch you. And I don’t mean shake your hand. They have to have a hand on your arm, or your body, or legs.”
    “Now how do I do that? ”
    “Emmy, if I had the answer to that, girls would be touching me al the time. What if you talk about your morning workouts? Have them feel a bicep. Or hug them when you meet. Stand close to them and elbow them when they say something funny. Be physical. Men love that. And when they see that you’re fine with it, they wil make excuses to handle you.”
    “ Handle me,” she drawled. “They’l start touching me every day, don’t you think? That’s... slutty. Not a bad slutty.
    Besides, I guess men are always touching girls.”
    “Real y?”
    “In my mind, I’m counting the number of times today someone touched me. It’s more than I thought, I just usual y don’t think notice it. And my dad’s friends kiss me on the cheek. They like to pretend they’re Old World.”
    “No more of that, Emmeline.”
    “No more kisses?”
    “No more kisses on the cheek. You’re an adult now. From now on, you kiss on the lips.”
    “You’re on crack.”
    But since she wasn’t teasing me or redirecting the conversation with a joke, I knew she was considering the kissing.
    Her sudden blush confirmed it. And, like it often happened when she was on the verge of agreeing to something, her eyes rose to the side, as if looking for a little angel who would nod to her.
    “You mean it?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” I said. “We need you showy, touchy, and kissy. For a while you’l need to train guys to kiss you when they see you. Remember, we men are chickenshits. We need to learn that you are friendly and welcoming to al men, that no one

    ever gets rejected—or else we won’t have the nerve to get close. And we have to know you’l kiss us on the lips, so we can opt in or opt out depending on how much nerve we have.”
    “Oh,” she said. Her gait was uneven, she was breathing heavily and thinking hard. “I see you’ve thought this through.”
    “Imagine this new rule in action,” I said.
    “I total y am,” she murmured. “Every guy?”
    “Make it part of your ritual. Make the kissing part of you .”
    “I can do that,” she said, though she sounded uncertain. “What if they kiss me with an open mouth?”
    “So open your mouth too, what’s the big deal?”
    I tried to sound natural but I was massively turned on just talking about it. Did I mention Emmeline was a power trip for me? By this point in our relationship, I knew that whatever idiotic thing I said, she could very wel take it seriously—and try to do it.I had to be sure I was saying what I real y wanted, and that I wasn’t getting swept away by the mood. Our pil ow talk and our real-life talk sometimes got mixed up.
    And I was worried about the unflagging touch of jealousy inside me. I could feel it even through my arousal.
    So to be a little cautious about things, I added, “Kiss them back with an open mouth, but cut it off after a while. Keep it as something you can do in front of your friends, and they would only be slightly scandalized.”
    We entered the library. Halfway to the elevators, I stopped her.
    “Last rule, Emmy. In the library, no underwear if you’re wearing a skirt.”
    She rol ed her eyes at this, but then shrugged. “To tel the truth, I don’t think I wil notice the difference anymore. Panties or no panties, it’s al the same.”
    “How do you know that? ”
    “A few times, I cheated and left my panties in Queens.”
    “Oh,” I

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