Later came several more druggings, as he held Gatorade up to my limp lips with who-knows-what mixed in. 'I said G.' He meant GHB, gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, commonly known as the date-rape drug. So I drank it and it was a bit sharp but really delicious, like tart watermelon. Then he pouted, comically and even adorably: 'But I made it just for us.' 'Gin!' I thought he said, more excitedly than he should have. I laughed and, holding the towel around my waist in one hand and the shot glass in the other, I looked at it. I felt sore and had just taken a shower to rid the bus experience from my skin.
It was already 9:45 p.m on a Friday last summer. I had been on a long, gruelling bus ride up from Washington, D.C., to his apartment in New York.
