“I doubt it.” I’m bright red now, of course.
“What’s your plan for tonight then?” asks Pam, the sixty-something woman in leather bondage gear, wearing glasses on a chain like my grandma used to do. With her steel-grey bob and her sweet, round, red-cheeked face, this woman wouldn’t look amiss in a library. Or darning Santa’s socks at the North Pole. Of course, here, she’s got her boobs hiked up almost to her chin and a leather collar around her neck, not to mention a life partner named Butch, who’s the perfect central casting motorcycle gang dude, complete with the handlebar ’stache and tats and leather vest.
“Um. I might just…take it easy. Hang out at the campsite.” Stay the hell out of the woods.
Butch gives me a kind look. “What is this for you? Day three?”
“Day four.”
Everyone at the table says, “Fourth day slump.”
“Gotta push through it,” says a Perkins.
“Definitely take it easy,” Max says from her spot beside me. “I want you to last all week.”
“Thinking about leaving early?”
I shrug. “I’ve kind of accomplished what I came here to do.”
Pam and Butch nod, as if they get it. The Perkins, however, eye me with bright curiosity. “D’you get beaten?” asks one with obvious relish.
“Wait, wait, wait. Um…” The other closes his eyes. “Gangbang.”
“No.” I shake my head, half-laughing, and spoon chocolate mousse into my mouth.
A Perkins leans back to eye my butt. “Not a pet.”
“Littles camp?”
I’m shaking my head, trying not to spit out my mousse, while they throw things out one after another.
“Fire?”
“Hooks!”
“Kidnapping?”
My heart sort of skips at that one, though I finally get the mousse down. “No!”
“Ropes! Wax? Whips?”
“No!” Max yells, getting into the fun. “Not even close! You guys aren’t even warm.”
“She’s a Domme. I’m sure of it.” The Perkins are both so into the game, they’re jumping up to yell out guesses.
“Way into impact play! Right? Right? Am I right? I am, aren’t I?”
I’m laughing so hard now I’m almost crying, which feels good. So, so good. Beside me, Max is doing the same. She slaps my leg with every wrong guess.
At some point, they’ll hit on it.
Maybe.
“A voyeur. Just a garden-variety voyeur.”
“Leather slut.”
“Come slut.”
