Play Fuck, Marry, Kill with Emma!

‘You know the rules, I assume?’ you ask politely. Emma rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

‘What, to Fuck, Marry, Kill? No, do enlighten me, won’t you?’ She shakes her head, looking apprehensive. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. I’m so going to feminist hell.’

You elect to ignore this, scrolling through the Gentleman Boners subreddit. ‘Just checking to see if Bonnie’s made an appearance. And, also, fuck off, these are classy photographs, Emma. Not in the least bit pornographic.’ Then you spot a very familiar face, and laugh out loud. ‘See? There’s you!’

‘Oh, my God,’ Emma complains, but leans over to peer at the screen. You shift it so she can see better.

‘Oh. Okay.’ Emma looks simultaneously confused and flattered. ‘Really? That’s what people are posting? Pictures of me in nice dresses?’

You chuckle. ‘Yeah, on this page, anyway. I could show you some other places where people are posting –’

Emma holds up a finger, and you cut yourself off. ‘Yes, thank you. I can just imagine what they’re posting in other places. Me with fake boobs, or fake legs, or that godawful upskirt photo.’

You concede that with a shrug. ‘No accounting for taste.’

Emma narrows her eyes, but lets it drop. ‘There’s got to be a catch,’ she says instead, reaching for the laptop and scrolling down the page. ‘Ten nice, tasteful pictures, then a – then a – I don’t know, a cum-covered slut, or something.’

You let her scroll down, grinning. ‘Do you see any cum-covered sluts here? No catch, I swear. It’s literally just ladies looking hot with their clothes on. Gentleman boners, y’see?’

A funny expression flickers across Emma’s face; she’s definitely flattered, but also… surprised, maybe?

She looks pleased, you decide, watching her closely. Like she thinks it’s endearing. ‘This is actually very sweet,’ Emma says finally, slowly, as she continues to scroll. ‘Bless them. I had no idea boys could be so… respectful.’

You’re not sure whether to resent that. ‘Bit sexist,’ you tell her, tongue-in-cheek.

Emma blushes. ‘Oh, you know what I mean! Boys on the internet, anyway.’

You let her have that one. ‘So… ready to play?’

‘Hmm?’ Emma appears to be distracted by a particularly lavish photo of Christina Hendricks. ‘Oh! I… yes, all right. I suppose, if they’re actually clothed, we might not be going to the deepest circle of hell for this.’

‘The one above it, probably,’ you agree, sliding the laptop onto your chest and beginning to type. ‘So. First round… who’s it gonna be?’