A Hands-On Approach

Well, what was the harm in pressing one little button? Just one?

Slowly, as if in a trance, Nathan raised the remote. His finger hovered over it, darting from button to button.

Should he blow up Emily's shirt? Dump cold water on her? Drop her down a trapdoor? Throw a custard pie in her face?

Or... do something even worse?

There was still time. Sweat dripped down Nathan's face. There was still time to take it back. He didn't have to press any buttons at all. Or he could only press nice buttons. He could help Emily out, or leave her in peace.

But she was so pretty.

And so cute when she was nervous.

And she didn't have any pants on.

And, after all, she had made fun of his red nose.

Here was a pretty girl who'd made fun of him, honked his nose and said he looked like a clown. And she was trapped, at his mercy, minus her pants. And the merest touch of a button would make her regret it.

Nathan knew he wasn't a pervert, and this definitely wasn't the moment he'd dreamed of his entire life. But somehow, for some reason, he pushed the button anyway.