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into another until it fil ed her whole day?”
    “How the heck would I know that, Emmy?”
    “That’s going to be my story, if someone cal s me out on these.”
    She judiciously chopped the rest of the ass of her jeans. The gash turned into a lose-lipped, thready, distressed hole that ranged between four and six inches wide. Then she flipped the jeans over and cut out the front pockets. She even cut out the denim backing at the top, so the soft skin of her inner hips would always be on display through the wide gaps.
    Then she attacked the belt-line, which also entailed cutting off the top button of the fly. Jeans are tough to cut, so she eventual y delegated that part to me. She went back into the apartment, stil in bra and panties, to recover her blouse. My roommates locked her down for a half hour, asking her about herself and showing her various banal features of the apartment. Anything to keep her near and mostly naked. Final y they found the blouse wadded up under the sofa. It looked miserable, and was missing its top three buttons.
    She returned to the room just as I finished cutting out the knees of the jeans.
    “This shirt is going to show a lot of bra,” she declared. “And my bra is a ‘wear under’ sort of bra, not a ‘display’ sort of bra.”
    “You want one of my shirts?”
    “No,” she said. “I’m going to soldier through. I want you to be prepared, though. Let’s give this outfit a road test.”
    “Are you nervous?”
    “Does a bear shit in the woods?” She held her hand out. “Give me the jeans, and don’t tel me if it looks horrible. I don’t have any choice except to wear them.”
    She pul ed them on careful y, needing to make sure her feet didn’t come out of any of the gaping new holes. These weren’t tight jeans, but they weren’t baggy-fit either. Though the top button of the fly was gone, they were stil effective as hip-huggers and didn’t slide down her ass. Her inner hips were visible through the missing front pockets. Very provocative.
    The mainstay of the outfit was her ass. She strained around, trying to see it from above. That didn’t work, so she had to rely on my feedback—and I was drooling so much that I sprayed saliva when I tried to talk.
    There was enough of the ass missing that, if she weren’t wearing panties, I could have bent her over my bed and fucked her. Even when she was standing up, you could see the bulge of her sex from behind, between her taut thighs.
    I ran my hand over her ass, relishing how the soft fabric turned to warm ass-skin. There was no hiding her perfect, high ass, or her panties. The cut-out front pockets had the added effect of al owing light down her jeans. From the back, her pussy mound was edge-lit and highly defined.
    When she felt my hand move across her ass, she realized just how much was on display.
    “Noooo! Crap. You should have stopped me!”
    “I tried, if you remember,” I said.
    “If I had any choice, we would throw these jeans out in the trash and try again.” She tried to see herself in the reflection off my window. She was physical y shaking. “This is the only pair of jeans we have. I have no choice but to go out like this. I have absolutely no choice— do I?”
    I started to tel her that we had a variety of female clothes in a “Lost and Found” box. The box was for when women visited at night, and then fled the next morning without looking back. In their hurry to escape they left clothes, keepsakes, and even cel phones.
    But when she added, “Do I?” I realized I wasn’t supposed to point that out.
    Emmeline needed a bit of fiction. She had walked into my apartment with these jeans, she had fucked them up by cutting them to shreds, and now she would walk out with these jeans.
    “Yes, you do, Emmy. I’m sorry.”
    She buttoned up her shirt. She tried to look nervous and self-conscious but she was breathing quickly and her fingers shook.
    “On the other hand,” I said, “no one wil look at your ass with