Rhys squeezes my arm. “I know.”
He puts his things in his locker. I put my things in my locker. Zelda, the other housekeeper, joins us, and we trade pleasantgood mornings before I head out to start on my list for the day with Rhys behind me.
We climb the staff stairs, then slip out the door onto the main floor between the dining room and the reception area.
Three men are in the lobby, all of them buck naked, taking videos, phones held over their heads, I assume for maximum video coverage of their visible hard-ons.
“Promised you a treat, my pets,” one of them says, “and you’re getting triple-dicked!”
“If you’re not following my buddies, you’re missing out on triple the fun,” another says.
“Link in bio to my besties’ channels so you can subscribe there too,” the third says.
All three of them thrust their pelvises and stick their tongues out.
Rhys sighs quietly next to me.
I tuck in a smile.
It’s going to be quite the week.
“Wrap the video and cover your junk, gentlemen,” Rhys says to them. “No signs, no nudity.”
That’s the rule this week.
The creators are free to make content here in whatever level of undress they prefer, so long as they mark the area with signs for general awareness so that the staff doesn’t unexpectedly encounter—well, exactly what Rhys and I have just encountered.
Drawing a line between creativity and full nudist colony, I suspect.
Once a place gets a reputation, it’s hard to change it back.
I’ve seen a workshop schedule too, with business topics taking as much space on the agenda as creative topics, plus lots of free time for developing content.
The three naked men look Rhys up and down.
“You real security, or is that your bit?” the tallest of the group asks him.
He taps his name tag and gives them his growliest stare.
“Are you hairy?” the shortest asks. “My followers love hairy.”
“Mine are into muscles,” the third and most built of the three says.
“You look like you have both. We could make you a star.”
“Seriously, you wouldn’t believe how much people will pay for five minutes of video a day. And you can do it without showing your full dick too.”
“Big feet are mad popular.”
All three of them look at Rhys’s feet.
“Get to work, Margie,” Rhys mutters. “I need to handle this.”
I stifle a snort at his wording. “See you at lunch. Good luck.”
My morning is relatively uneventful, ifuneventfulis only running into three or four more naked people.
But as I’m headed back to the lodge for lunch, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
