“Right?” She smiles and plants her elbows on the bar. “You having fun so far?”
I shrug and immediately her eyes sharpen. “Need a drink?”
“Please,” I moan.
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m fine,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced it’s true. “I could use something strong.”
“Of the human or alcoholic variety?” she asks with a toothy grin and a head tilt toward the massively muscular human to my left.
“Booze…for now,” I breathe, smiling. This is good. This person’s familiar. A bar is a place I know how to negotiate. I can do this. “Surprise me.”
“What do you like? Soda? Juice?”
“Something frilly.”
“You’re speaking my language.”
I hold up my wrist and she scans the barcode on one of the bracelets, charging the drink straight to my account.
I watch her expert movements, mesmerized as she adds booze and mixers into a shaker with easy, fluid motions. “Tada!” When she finally puts the glass in front of me, dripping with fruit, topped with an umbrella, and finished off with a stirrer shaped like a penis, I burst out laughing.
“This is amazing. What is it?”
“It’s called a Glory. In honor of tonight’s activity.”
“Oh yeah?” I lean forward and take a big sip through my mask’s mouth-hole. It’s a weird feeling. “Ohhhhhh.” My eyes close of their own volition, taste buds absolutely screaming from the tart, fruity citrus, with berries and gin.
“You like?”
I nod, my mouth still full. After a couple more sips, I sink back, my shoulders finally relaxing. “It’s delicious.”
“Good. Okay. You are aware of the two-drink max, right?”
“Oh, yes. Right.” I read that in the brochure, along with the other camp rules, like the safe words and various details about consent and behavior and what it would take to be asked to leave. I take another sip under the bartender’s benevolent eye, and sigh.
“Want to be added to the list?”
“The list?”
Max points at a door to one side of the bar. “Old Glory. The Gloryhole.” She leans forward and puts both elbows on the bar, cradling her chin in her cupped hands. “Or, as I like to call it, Seven Minutes in Heaven, adult-style.”
“What, um…” I clear a surge of excitement from my throat. “What happens in there?”
Max’s eyes are sharp behind those glasses. “Whatever you’d like. Literally, anything.”
“Oh.” I grab my glass and suck back a whole lot more of my delicious cocktail—barely tasting it. “How…how do you tell the person what you want?”
“Here.” She pushes a clipboard at me. I scan the page and look up.
“This is like signing up to sing at karaoke.”
Max throws her head back and cackles. “Oh my friend, it really is. Except it’s so much more fun.”
My vision’s a little blurred when I look down again, although I’m not sure if it’s the buzz from the alcohol or from the options I’m being presented with.
There’s a blank for my camp name, then a line of text stating that by checking the options below, I’m giving consent, which I may withdraw at any time simply by stating the camp safe word, which is followed by a space where I’m supposed to write the safe word, and sign.
