Sexatorium, because of course there was. Kavinsky passed a couple of bungalows, but they looked rather conspicuously occupied, and after a while, he sort of sighed and gave up on that whole idea.

He could always, he knew, tuck them somewhere and dream up some lube and a condom or two and maybe even a nice blanket that would repel sand at all. But that sounded like such a lot of effort just to get some dick. But he could also tuck them somewhere and just get off. There was no shame in that, either.

There was an outcropping of rocks that would block some of the beach if they were in there.

"Consider," he said as he headed toward the rocks, "we've got our own sexatorium right here."