And she's right. The first hour drags so slowly I consider choking myself with my own binocular strap. Then with my binoculars, I catch two members, Mark and Sarah, tangled together in the underbrush half-naked.
The next time I see Mark, I blurt out and tell him that I saw everything. Instead of shame, he shows me exactly how exciting this club can be. One by one, the others get drawn in, until our club becomes a wild, sweaty free-for-alls-every gasp and cry hidden under the professor's nose.
But one slip-up nearly exposes us. Now I have to wonder: will our freeuse bird-watching club stay our dirty little secret... or will we all get caught with our pants down?
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