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.
Tag: lipstick
Cloakroom Sex At Fabric Again
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.
The Shared Bathroom Queue
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.
Toilet Stall At The Standard
Queue outside, his hand over my mouth, my back against the cistern. Lipstick everywhere. Walked out like nothing happened and ordered another dirty martini.
I Went Back For Keys
Left them in his jacket on purpose. Went back at noon looking wrecked on purpose. He made coffee. I took the keys and a photo of his bookshelf for the blog. Efficient.
Lipstick On A Hotel Glass
Not my shade. Not my booking. I still took the photo because the lighting was filthy in the best way.
House Party Ended At Breakfast
Someone put porridge on. Someone else was still naked. I wrote half the piece on my notes app between bites.
Club Bathroom Mirror Confession
I told my own reflection I was going home with him. She agreed. She also needed more gloss. Priorities.
I Kissed The Barman First
He was fit, bored, and already looking at me like I’d started it. So I did. The drinks came quicker after that. Not a strategy. Just good manners.
He Finished In The Uber
Look, the meter was still running and I wasn’t getting out in Peckham at 3am with unfinished business. He tipped the driver. I kept the story.