“Back when he was pulling my jeans off, this is what happened: He kneeled behind me, reached around the waistband to the fly, and pulled until all the buttons popped open. (He’d already tied my hands behind my back.) Then he crawled back a few feet and began to pull the jeans off from the ankles—a stupid way to try to take someone else’s pants off, but I didn’t say anything.
He was having a little trouble because the pants weren’t slipping off as, obviously, he’d envisioned they would. He tugged, and then began yanking. “Stop fighting!” he growled at me. Ooh, that pissed me off! “I’m not fighting!” I sassed back at him. And I wasn’t. How dare he! Accuse me, I mean. Of fighting.”
Explains things. Good use of Virginia Woolf. Link to full text at source, author Debra Anne Davis.