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: club
Saw her again at a birthday in Shoreditch. Last time she was crying in a bathroom about him. This time she’s on his shoulders. I have the old voice notes. Tempting.
Everyone filed out. We didn’t. The sprinklers never came on. Anti-climax in every sense except the one that mattered.
Romantic is generous. Functional. His belt buckle kept hitting the dispenser. I still came. That’s the bit I’ll leave in.
Spent twenty minutes on the lips. He kissed it all off in a stairwell in Soho. Then put me against the wall. I redid the whole face in the Uber home. Priorities.
Until it didn’t. Door open, neighbour in a dressing gown, someone crying in the good chair. I took notes on my phone.
The night bus felt like a confession booth. I told a stranger what I’d just done. He said “safe”. Very London.
Meant for Mia. Landed in the flat chat. Full recap of who did what in the disabled loo at Fabric. Sophie reacted with a single thumbs-down. Silence after that.
Three girls in a cubicle at 4am swapping who they’d just left in the main room. Names, positions, who came, who didn’t. I wrote it down in Notes. Gold.
Four girls, one lock, someone’s boyfriend knocking like he pays rent. I gave her my concealer. She gave me the story. That’s how you leave a club with better gossip than a hangover.