So we didn’t wait. Coat still on. His hand over my mouth because the attendant was two feet away pretending not to exist.
Tag: cloakroom
Wedding afterparty in Chelsea, open bar, I was only meant to be content. Best man had a fiancée on table nine. She found me in the cloakroom redoing lipstick. Awkward doesn’t cover it.
I dragged him in during the drop, skirt already round my waist. Security nearly caught us. He finished first. I didn’t. Classic Friday. Still thinking about his hands.
Soho, Saturday, one toilet cubicle with a lock that actually worked. We still managed. I lost an earring and gained a story. The attendant definitely knew. I tipped her anyway.
Thought we’d been clever. We hadn’t. Some girl from Putney was already in there crying into a coat. I still finished the story. She can write her own.