“You’re sending me to Fuck Camp?” accused Kathy Wainwright.

“Language, Katherine,” chided her mother.

“NO WAY! I’m not going,” insisted Kathy, shaking her head and stamping a foot.

“It’s called Camp Fun, and you are going.”

Kathy stared in disbelief at her mother. Her oh-so-proper, social-climbing, charity-work-junkie of a mother was sending her own daughter to Fuck Camp. “Bronnie’s told me what it’s like. Didn’t you learn your lesson with her?”

Julia Wainwright sighed with a pained expression. “That was rather unfortunate. I would never have sent Bronwyn if I’d known she was gay. Still, it turned out okay. She found some friends there to play with.”

“Do you know what it’s like? They ban everything – so there’s nothing to do but have sex. Mobile phones are banned, the internet and TV are banned, nothing like swimming or hiking to do. They ban checkers, for God’s sake! There’s nothing there except beds!”

A wistful look flashed across Julia’s face, some long-forgotten moment of bliss, “That’s not quite true, Kathy. They have tables and chairs, and shower cubicles for when you start getting creative,” she corrected in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, and a bit of a smirk. “I know precisely what it’s like there. Have you ever noticed the silver canoe and golden raft in the sitting-room trophy cabinet? I won those there. Runner-up for Best Newcomer in my first year and winner of the All-Comers the next.”

Kathy was stunned – and appalled. Her mother – HER MOTHER – went to Fuck Camp. And she was a star performer. TWICE! ... Kathy regained her composure enough to ask in the most sarcastic tone she could muster, “What did you do to win those? Fuck the most boys?”

“There was more to it than that, dear.” Once again, that deliberate, matter-of-fact voice. “Number of times per boy, duration, and quality all came into it too. But yes. I got into the spirit of the occasion while I was there. I hope you will do the same.”

“What’s with the canoe and the raft? It hasn’t even got a river or lake.”

“They’re metaphors. You’ll figure them out easily enough.”

“ ... EWW!”

“You had better sit down, dear.”

Kathy sat down across from her mother with an impressive display of skepticism.

“They won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Julia waited until her daughter indicated she’d understood. “If you want, you can spend your entire time there without ever seeing a boy. I hear the library has a wide selection of books on religion.”

“You mean, I can hang out with the lezzos?”

“Yes. Nobody will tell you to do anything. In fact, the organizers promise absolutely no supervision. They never come out of the main building unless there’s some emergency. The campers can do whatever they want.”

“So it ends up like an X-rated version of The Lord of the Flies?”

“Hopefully not,” said Julia, who smiled, deciding it was best to treat that one as a joke. “The girls decide all the ... activities, and the rules. Many come back so the games get handed down over the years and become traditions.”

“Like Hide and Seek? Bronnie told me about that ... It’s disgusting.”

“Ah, yes. What a wonderful little icebreaker that is.” Julia paused for a moment, another wistful look in her eye and a deep sigh. “Girls who play Hide and Seek are all given a roll-out mattress and a whistle. They go off to hide somewhere in the forest. They wear a dress, but no panties. Boys who find them may start making love without asking. When girls are ready to play again, they just blow on their whistle for ... reinforcements.”

“Yuck! Why would any girl do that? ... Have sex with boys they might never have even met before.”

“That is kind of the point of the game. There can be a sense of freedom from having no choice, especially for girls. Society indoctrinates them to be the moral guardians: girls’ choices are always moral choices. Hide and Seek eliminates that. They become free to just relax and enjoy whatever happens. It can be a lot of fun. Really.”

“But that just makes her a complete slut, doesn’t it?”

“She may behave like one, for a limited period. She doesn’t become one. I don’t regret my times at Camp Fun. But, apart from those times, I’ve never been with a boy who wasn’t my current boyfriend and I thought of as a potential husband. I haven’t been with anyone else since I met your father. This is just something a girl does, for short time, to further her education.”

“Further her EDUCATION? In fucking?”

“Yes! That is what young ladies in high society need nowadays. Think of it as a modern-day finishing school. Deportment and etiquette won’t land a girl a good husband and keep him on the straight and narrow. She must be able to bonk his brains out and enjoy herself while doing it.”

“Oh, gross!”

“Consider this. What if you find the perfect husband in every other way, but he’s bad in bed? Men never know. They just assume they’re good at it. Girls won’t tell them they’re no good. If you want to keep your man satisfied, you might need to teach him about sex. You should start practicing now.”