The evening had been a wash. Work drinks went okay, but one at a time my coworkers had left, back to their perfectly trimmed little lives and leaving me to my own devious devices. I can’t remember how much I’d had, I was out to get fucked up and had been necking pints of beer, then wine, and had moved onto shots.
One by one the bars closed, and like a sheep I drifted along with the other scregs of the night into the last open club, a divey little basement just one step short of a strip club.
I bumped into a wild looking couple I’d shared a smoke with earlier. We got talking and laughing, and as things tend to do at that time of night, conversation quickly fell in the gutter. They told me about some niche club they’d joined for kicks, a “consensual rape club” and gave me a bracelet, which I thought was pretty funny at the time. I slipped it on as a joke and I guess I forgot about it.