His place in Dalston. Door wasn’t locked. Mate stood there for a second, laughed, then asked if we wanted a beer. We kept going. I came looking at the ceiling.
Tag: lipstick
Footballer From Friday’s Afterparty
Not naming him. You’d know the face. Took me to the hotel next door, barely spoke, fucked like he had a match in the morning. Left a shirt. I kept it.
Sophie Made A Chore Chart
It now includes “remove strange men before 9am” and “buy more loo roll after weekends”. I initialled it in lip gloss.
Bathroom Stall Was Unexpectedly Romantic
Romantic is generous. Functional. His belt buckle kept hitting the dispenser. I still came. That’s the bit I’ll leave in.
Makeup Wiped Off By His Mouth
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.
Two Boys After The Wrap
Fashion party, free champagne, bad decisions. Ended up in a suite with both of them. They took turns. I directed. Makeup was ruined. Best content I’ll never post.
Shoreditch Rain Ruined The Dress
The white one. Of course the white one. He offered his jacket. I offered nothing back except a very wet anecdote.
Peckham Roof Was A Mistake
Beautiful at midnight. Tragic at 4am. Someone’s cousin DJ’d, the wine was warm, and I snogged a man whose name I still cannot spell. Classic, really.
Banker Choked Me Too Hard
Nice suit, worse manners. Hand on my throat in his City flat and I liked it more than I should admit. Bruises next morning. Told Sophie it was a necklace.
Voice Note Hit The Group
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.